#ghostober

[blanchebees]

Day 27 - Boot worship

Tip jar

Prompt by @kroas-adtam

[michiororr]

HELLO HELLO, I LOST THE GHOSTOBER FOR THIS, I started this drawing on day nine (revenge) and I didn't want to start another one without finish this draw

Hey, I'm so sorry for my bad English, Sometimes I don't even remember how to write in my native language. ✌️😆 (😭)

[her-satanic-wiles]

Kinktober Day 7 - Magical Fleshlight

Mountain x Reader

Fuck… why does this feel so real? It’s so… wet. Holy shit.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 6k.

Reading Time: 24 min.

Warnings: elements of crack!fic, masturbation, multiple orgasms, noncon, non-discussed sexual activity, public, PIV sex, unprotected sex, vaginal sex

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @copiasslut @cosmixxdust @da-rulah @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @hauntedharmonic-ghoulishhaunter @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sister-of-sin-claudia @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Mountain slumped onto the bed, sighing heavily as he bounced softly on the plush springs. The day had dragged on endlessly, each hour dragging him further into a storm of stress and fatigue. He could feel the tension in his muscles, the tight knots in his back that throbbed with every movement, and the cramping beginning to form in his legs, a testament to the physically demanding tasks he’d faced. All he wanted was to escape into the soothing embrace of sleep.

Curling up onto his side, he nestled into the cool sheets, the soft fabric a welcome contrast to the roughness of his day. As he logged onto Instagram, the flickering glow of his phone illuminated the dim room, casting playful shadows against the walls. It was a moment of solace, a brief respite from the chaos of the outside world.

Then, your most recent picture appeared on his timeline, and a jolt of electricity surged through him. You were stunning, radiating a captivating allure that pulled him in like a moth to a flame. The memory of the dress you wore last night flickered in his mind—a form-fitting creation that hugged your curves perfectly, its delicate fabric accentuating every feature that drove him wild. He could almost see it bunched up around your waist, his imagination running riot as he pictured the scene.

His heart raced at the thought, and he cursed under his breath, shaking his head as he tried to dispel the imagery. No. He couldn’t think like that. Not now, not when he was exhausted and vulnerable. But the temptation lingered, clawing at the edges of his mind like an unquenchable fire. He longed to reach out, to hold you close, to forget the weight of the world for just a moment.

He swiped through your photos, each one more intoxicating than the last—your smile, your laughter, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief. Each image only deepened his frustration and desire, intertwining with the stress of the day, creating a tangled web of emotions he found hard to unravel. The solitude of his room felt stifling, an echo of his longing that was now amplified by your presence on his screen.

Mountain’s thoughts drifted, his body still heavy with weariness yet somehow ignited by an unshakeable yearning. The contrast of his physical exhaustion and the vivid allure of you made his chest tighten. He wanted to rest, to forget his troubles, but he also craved something more—something electric, passionate, and intoxicating.

With a deep breath, he set his phone down, staring at the ceiling as he tried to clear his head. The images of you still danced in his mind, teasing him mercilessly. Perhaps a little distraction would help? A warm shower, a drink, or maybe… just maybe, a little bit of magic to soothe his aching body and restless thoughts. He could picture you there beside him, laughter filling the air, and a shiver of anticipation raced down his spine.

He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to scrub the image of you beneath him from his mind, but it was too late. The fantasy had taken root, blossoming into something far too vivid to ignore. His body was already responding, a heat rising in him that seemed to defy his efforts to suppress it.

With a frustrated sigh, he sat up, his heart pounding as he fought to regain control. The bed felt too soft, too inviting, and his thoughts were spiralling into tantalising possibilities. The way you had looked in that dress—the way it had clung to your body, accentuating your curves—sent a rush of heat coursing through him. He could almost feel your skin beneath his fingertips, the way your body would yield to his touch, inviting him in, urging him to explore.

Mountain clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms as if to ground himself. He was all too aware of the growing tension in his lower abdomen, a primal response that stirred within him, demanding attention. It was maddening. No, he thought firmly, pushing back against the wave of desire. He needed to focus on anything else—work, the tasks ahead, the mess he’d need to clean—but his mind was relentless, cycling back to you.

He stood abruptly, pacing the room as he tried to shake off the intrusive thoughts. Each step seemed to echo with the memory of your laughter, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief, and the intoxicating scent of your perfume. It wrapped around him like a fog, clouding his judgment and amplifying his longing.

“Get a grip,” he muttered to himself, the words barely making it past clenched teeth. But as he turned, his gaze fell upon the fleshlight sitting innocently on the bedside table—a recent acquisition, born of desperation and curiosity. The relic hummed softly, as if it sensed his turmoil, and suddenly, he felt a magnetic pull toward it.

Could it really help him escape the throbbing desire that gripped him so tightly? With a tentative hand, he reached for the enchanted device, the cool surface grounding him momentarily as he contemplated his options. It had been whispered among friends that this magical relic could bring fantasies to life, enabling a connection that was both intimate and otherworldly.

Magic? As if. That sounded like the plot of a shitty smutty novel. There was no magic in the real world.

He glanced back at his phone, at your radiant smile, and felt a surge of determination wash over him. Why not give it a try? Perhaps, just this once, he could indulge in a fantasy—a fleeting moment of pleasure that could distract him from the gnawing stress of the day.

With a deep breath, Mountain took a seat on the edge of the bed, the tension still simmering within him as he examined the magical fleshlight in his hands. If there was ever a time to explore the boundary between reality and fantasy, it was now. He was ready to surrender, if only for a little while.

He ran his finger over the fleshlight’s clitoris, the smooth surface cool against his heated skin. The mere touch sent a shiver down his spine, igniting a flicker of anticipation in his belly. The magical device seemed to hum with energy, almost as if it were alive, responding to his touch and urging him to let go of his inhibitions. As his imagination began to weave vivid images of you, he closed his eyes, allowing the fantasy to envelop him.

*

Meanwhile, you were sitting in the library, surrounded by towering shelves filled with dusty tomes and parchment scrolls. The warm, golden light from the lamps cast a comforting glow, but it did little to dispel the exhaustion that clung to you like a second skin. Traveling for the Ministry had worn you out, leaving a mountain of work to tackle. You felt as if you were drowning beneath the weight of it all, buried under reports and briefings that demanded your attention.

Determined to catch up, you hunched over your desk, your quill scratching furiously against the parchment. The words began to blur together as your mind wandered, drawn back to thoughts of Mountain. You couldn’t shake the image of him, powerful and stoic, but with an undeniable softness lurking beneath the surface. That intense gaze of his always made your heart race, igniting a warmth that spread through you.

It was maddening, really, how one thought of him could send your concentration spiraling. You shifted in your chair, the tension in your back protesting the long hours spent hunched over your work. A sigh escaped your lips as you glanced at the clock, realising how late it had grown. The library felt even quieter now, the stillness pressing in around you, amplifying your restlessness.

But that was when you felt it. A sudden, electrifying swipe over your clitoris, sending shockwaves of sensation coursing through your body. You froze, your pen hovering above the notebook, heart racing as confusion and curiosity battled within you. What on earth was happening?

You glanced around the library, half-expecting to see someone teasing you, but the room remained empty, the silence thick with the weight of ancient knowledge. The sensation pulsed again, rhythmic and insistent, as if someone—something—was touching you beneath your clothes. Your breath caught in your throat, the combination of surprise and intrigue igniting a warmth deep within. You stood up and moved seats, thinking that was the problem, but when the swipe came a second time, you almost screamed. It felt so good, somehow?

With every pulse, the sensation felt more intense and quicker, drawing you deeper into an exhilarating haze. You clenched your thighs together, instinctively searching for relief as you fought to maintain your composure. The rhythmic touches seemed to dance along your most sensitive areas, teasing and inviting with each electric caress.

Your breath hitched as you pressed your legs together, seeking some form of control, but the warmth pooled low in your belly, a heated pressure that was becoming increasingly impossible to ignore. You bit your lip, trying to focus on the paper in front of you, but the words swam before your eyes, fading into the background as your entire being concentrated on the sensation that was almost overwhelming.

What if it was Mountain? The thought sent a shiver through you. You had shared so many lingering glances, those moments charged with unspoken desire. Your brain kept showing you images of him next to you, hands beneath your habit and flicking over your clit so expertly, you were getting closer and closer to the precipice by the second.

Another pulse shot through you, sharper and more insistent than before. You gasped, gripping the edge of the desk for support. Your mind raced, torn between the fantasy of Mountain orchestrating this and the reality of being in the library, surrounded by centuries of knowledge and solitude.

The teasing sensation flickered again, and you could feel it mirroring the rhythm of your heartbeat, tugging at your very core. You could hardly contain yourself; a soft moan escaped your lips, echoing against the high ceilings of the library. The sound startled you, and you quickly glanced around, but there was still no one in sight.

Swallowing hard, you weighed your options. You could leave the library, escape this unexpected spell, or you could embrace it, surrender to the sensations that were taking over your body. The tension in your back seemed to dissipate, replaced by a throbbing warmth that surged through you with every pulse.

You took a deep breath, heart pounding in anticipation. What would happen if you let yourself explore this strange new sensation? What if this was a glimpse into something deeper, something shared with Mountain that had yet to be spoken?

Finally, you settled back into your seat, heart racing as you surrendered to the unknown. With each wave of pleasure, you began to ride the rhythm, feeling the magic course through you. The lines of reality blurred as you imagined Mountain’s hands—strong yet gentle—working their magic on you. The fantasies you had buried deep within began to surface, filling your mind with images of him, of you, lost in a world of desire.

As you surrendered to the sensations, a part of you still wondered how long you could remain in this secret world, caught between the throes of pleasure and the reality of your surroundings. But for now, all that mattered was the intoxicating feeling of the unknown, and the powerful connection that pulsed between you and Mountain, drawing you ever closer.

The sensations grew stronger, more insistent, every pulse of pleasure pushing you closer to the edge. Your grip tightened on the edge of the desk, knuckles white as you fought to keep silent, your breath coming in shallow, shaky gasps. The magical teasing seemed to know exactly where to touch, how to drive you wild without mercy, each wave of pleasure more intense than the last. You could barely focus on anything but the pressure building inside you, hot and unbearable.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you tried to stifle the moans threatening to escape your lips. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to walk in and find you like this, overwhelmed by invisible hands, pleasure coursing through you in the middle of the quiet library. But the thought of being caught only seemed to heighten the thrill, a dangerous mix of arousal and anticipation that made the heat within you coil tighter.

The rhythm became more relentless, the electric pulses caressing your clitoris and sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body. You pressed your thighs together again, trying to ease the tension, but it only made the feeling more intense, more impossible to resist. Your body was trembling, your heart pounding in your chest, your breaths coming in quick, ragged bursts as the wave of ecstasy swelled higher and higher.

Your mind was a blur, filled with images of Mountain—his hands on you, his body pressed against yours. You could almost feel him there, his touch, his breath on your skin. The fantasy had completely taken over, and you no longer cared about anything but the release that was building inside you, stronger and stronger with each passing second.

And then, it hit.

A final pulse, stronger and more intense than before, surged through you, and suddenly, you were there, on the edge of oblivion. You gasped, your back arching as your entire body tensed, the pleasure overwhelming, almost too much to bear. The climax washed over you in powerful waves, each one more intense than the last, leaving you trembling, breathless, your mind utterly consumed by the moment.

Your hands clutched the desk, your thighs clamped together as the pleasure coursed through you, your heart pounding in your ears as you rode the waves of ecstasy. You couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped your lips, your body shaking as you finally surrendered to the release you’d been fighting.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Everything was still, your mind lost in the afterglow, your body limp and sated. The heat slowly began to ebb away, leaving a warm, languid feeling in its wake. You slumped in your chair, chest heaving, your skin flushed and your limbs heavy. The library was silent once again, save for the sound of your ragged breathing as you came down from the high.

You opened your eyes, still dazed, your body tingling with the remnants of pleasure. The magic had faded, leaving you alone once more. You glanced around, half-expecting someone to have noticed, but the library remained as quiet and still as ever. No one had witnessed your moment of ecstasy, and for that, you were grateful.

*

Mountain felt the fleshlight twitch in his hands, the silicone pulsing rhythmically under his touch. It was strange, almost unnerving, how lifelike it felt—warm and supple, as though it had a mind of its own. He reasoned it must have been designed that way, engineered to feel as close to the real thing as possible. After all, the material had to have some give; otherwise, it would be difficult to fuck.

But this… this felt different. Too real.

Curiosity burned within him, and without thinking, he removed his thumb from the fleshlight’s clit and slid a finger into the vaginal hole. He half-expected to feel nothing but cold silicone or mechanical resistance, but the moment his fingertip pressed inside, he froze.

“Fuck…” he muttered, his breath catching in his throat.

The interior was silky smooth, impossibly warm, and slick with wetness, as though it had already been perfectly lubricated just for him. His finger sank deeper, and he swore he felt the walls subtly pulse around him, hugging his digit with a grip that sent a jolt of arousal straight through his core. It felt as though he had slipped his finger inside a real pussy—alive, warm, and so damn wet.

It was too much.

The thought hit him like a lightning bolt, sending a rush of blood straight to his length, which was already half-hard, now straining against his trousers. He glanced down, feeling the growing pressure, but his mind couldn’t tear away from the fleshlight and its surreal sensations. His pulse quickened as he slowly curled his finger inside the toy, feeling the textured inner walls respond to his every movement, as if the toy were reacting, pulling him in.

“Holy shit…” he whispered under his breath, barely able to believe what he was experiencing.

The slickness inside only made his cock throb with more need, the pressure building rapidly in his groin. His mind wandered back to the vivid images of you that had plagued him all night. He imagined it wasn’t just his finger inside this magical device, but his cock, sinking deep into that same warmth, feeling your body move beneath him, wrapped around him. He could almost hear the sound of your breath hitching in pleasure, see the way your body would react to every thrust.

His arousal was becoming impossible to ignore, his length now fully hard, aching to be touched. The wetness coating his finger made him desperate to feel more, to know what it would be like to sink himself completely into the impossible magic of this fleshlight.

But something nagged at him in the back of his mind. Why did this feel so different? So personal? It wasn’t just a toy; it was something more, something… connected.

Mountain exhaled sharply, pulling his finger out and wiping it on his trousers as he debated whether to continue. His cock twitched in anticipation, and the need for release was undeniable. He had to know just how far this could go.

His hand drifted to the waistband of his trousers, the decision already made.

*

You had felt the initial intrusion, the unexpected presence inside you, no thicker than a finger. It wasn’t moving with any intent to please, merely exploring your most intimate space, as if testing the waters, feeling out your warmth. A breath caught in your throat, and you slumped over the desk, your hand flying to your mouth, desperate to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. Your body shivered in response, torn between confusion and the undeniable arousal that was building deep within you.

The slow, teasing movements left you trembling, and while it wasn’t enough to satisfy the aching need between your legs, the anticipation was maddening. You squeezed your thighs together, trying to create some friction, something to ease the growing heat. But the moment you began to settle into the sensation, it stopped. The presence withdrew, and you were left empty, unsatisfied, your slick, needy cunt clenching around nothing.

A soft whimper escaped your lips, muffled by the back of your hand. A part of you was disappointed, frustrated even, that it had left. Your body was throbbing, aching for more—more of whatever that was, more of what it had been building toward. Your pulse was racing, and the quiet library around you suddenly felt too confining, too stifling. You couldn’t stay here, not like this.

Your legs felt weak as you stood, the lingering heat between your thighs making every movement feel laboured. You glanced around the empty room, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks as if someone might have seen your inner turmoil, but the library remained silent and still. The quiet was too much now, the weight of your arousal pressing down on you, urging you to seek relief. You needed more than just that teasing touch; you needed release. And you needed it now.

Quickly, you began packing up your things, your fingers fumbling as you tried to gather your quill and parchment. Your mind was already somewhere else, picturing what awaited you once you could find privacy. The thought of it—of taking care of yourself, of chasing the release that had been cruelly denied in the library—sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

With your belongings hastily stuffed into your bag, you headed toward the door, your breath uneven as you made your way out of the library. The cool air of the hallway did little to calm the fire raging inside you. You had to find somewhere—anywhere—you could be alone and finish what had been started.

Your legs moved quickly beneath you, instinct driving you toward the nearest private space, your heart pounding with anticipation as the memory of that teasing touch replayed in your mind.

You left the library in a hurry, taking a sharp left down the corridor toward your room, your mind laser-focused on finding relief. Each step was torture, your knees weak and trembling, barely able to support your body as the weight of your arousal pressed down on you. The cool air of the hallway did nothing to ease the growing heat between your thighs, and you quickened your pace, desperate to reach the privacy of your room.

But just as you rounded the corner, a new sensation hit you.

Dread pooled in your stomach as you felt your folds part, something heavy and hard sliding between them. You gasped, eyes widening in shock, feeling a thick pressure press against your clit. It wasn’t the slow, teasing touch from before—it was urgent, insistent, and so overwhelmingly real that you couldn’t hold back the shaky moan that escaped your lips. The sensation was distracting, too distracting, and in your attempt to keep moving, you stumbled.

Your legs gave out beneath you, and with a gasp, you fell to the ground, your belongings scattering across the wooden floor. Pens, paper and books slipped from your grasp, your bag tumbling open as you struggled to regain control of your body. The thick presence between your legs remained, rubbing insistently against your clit with every movement, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you as you lay there, heart racing and breath ragged.

Your hands shot down instinctively, as though to push whatever it was away, but there was nothing tangible, nothing you could grasp. It was as if some invisible force was teasing you, pressing into you with an unrelenting rhythm that made it impossible to think straight.

You tried to stand, pushing yourself up with trembling arms, but the pleasure was so intense that you collapsed again, your knees refusing to support your weight. Another shudder ran through you, your body betraying you as the rubbing against your clit continued, the sensation almost unbearable. You squeezed your thighs together, but it only seemed to make it worse, the pressure building with every second.

“Fuck…” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breathless gasp. You had no control over your body anymore. The sensation between your legs had taken over, and all you could do was grip the floor beneath you, helpless against the mounting pleasure.

The hallway was empty, but you were still exposed, vulnerable. You needed to get up, needed to reach your room where you could finally give in to what your body craved. But as another pulse of pleasure shot through you, you weren’t sure you’d even make it.

A stroke of luck emerged, catching your eye in the midst of your frantic struggle—the door to a cleaning closet, left slightly ajar. Relief mixed with desperation as you quickly gathered your scattered belongings, your hands shaking as you scrambled to your feet. You couldn’t make it much further; your knees were barely holding you upright as it was, and the relentless pressure between your thighs was making it impossible to think straight.

Without a second thought, you rushed toward the open door, heart pounding in your chest. As soon as you stumbled inside, you slammed it shut behind you, pressing your back against the wood. There was no lock, but if you could just stay quiet—if you could hold out here for a few moments—you might make it through this without being caught. The small space was dimly lit, filled with shelves of cleaning supplies, and the air smelled faintly of soap and lavender.

You barely had time to catch your breath before it happened.

A sharp, overwhelming sensation took hold of you as you felt something push into you—deep, filling your already throbbing, aching hole. The intrusion was sudden, and you gasped, your hand flying to your mouth to muffle the cry of pleasure that threatened to burst out. It was thick, stretching you in a way that was both shocking and satisfying, as though whatever it was had been waiting for this moment, waiting for you to be alone, vulnerable, and desperate.

It was definitely a cock - but it was fucking huge.

*

Mountain sank into the fleshlight, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips as the tightness enveloped him. He was a big man in every sense of the word, and his length was no exception—thick, heavy, and aching for relief. As he pressed deeper, the silicone walls yielded, but only just enough, hugging him in a way that felt almost too real. The sensation was overwhelming, warm and snug, gripping him with the perfect balance of resistance and give, as though the toy had been made just for him.

His breath hitched as he sank further, the heat surrounding him sending shivers down his spine. Every inch of him was enveloped in that wet, warm tightness, and it felt like nothing he’d ever experienced before. His hips rolled instinctively, testing the limits of the toy’s grip, and the way it clung to him made his cock throb with need. It was almost maddening how good it felt—too good, in fact. The slickness inside, combined with the soft, textured ridges, made every movement feel as though he was buried deep inside something alive.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his hands tightening around the base of the fleshlight as his hips moved again, slower this time, savouring the way it squeezed him with every thrust.

The heat, the wetness, the way it pulsed around him—it was almost too much to bear. He couldn’t help but picture you, the way your body would feel wrapped around him like this, clenching down on him, pulling him in. The thought of you, mixed with the intensity of the sensation, made his control slip. His pace quickened, driven by the growing pressure building in his groin, his need for release clawing at him.

Each thrust into the toy felt more urgent, the friction deliciously overwhelming. He could feel the tension building, his length throbbing inside the slick, tight tunnel. Every stroke was bringing him closer to the edge, the pleasure so intense it made his vision blur. The way the fleshlight clung to him was impossibly real, and the thought of sinking into your warmth instead made his pulse race even faster.

He was too far gone to stop now, completely lost in the sensation, the need for release overtaking him as his hips bucked into the toy with reckless abandon.

*

Your legs gave out entirely, and you collapsed against the shelves, your body trembling as the force inside you began to move. Slow, deliberate strokes, in and out, dragging along your sensitive walls and making you shudder with each thrust. You bit down on your hand, trying to stay quiet, but the sensation was so intense, so perfectly maddening, that small, helpless whimpers slipped past your lips despite your best efforts.

The sensation wasn’t just physical; it was connected. Every movement inside you felt purposeful, like whoever—or whatever—was controlling this was in sync with your body, knowing exactly how to make you fall apart. Your pussy clenched around it, soaking wet, the slickness only making the thrusts more fluid, more relentless.

Your breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, the rhythm of your body matching the relentless thrusts that were driving you closer and closer to the edge. Each stroke pushed deeper, dragging against your most sensitive spots, and the heat building inside you was becoming unbearable. Your mind was spinning, the world around you fading into a blur as the pressure inside you mounted, thick and heavy.

You could feel yourself trembling, your body taut with anticipation, the pleasure coiling tighter with every thrust. Your nails dug into your palms, a desperate attempt to ground yourself, to hold on just a little longer—but it was no use.

It felt so good.

Too good.

You sat up a little and spread your legs, pulling your panties off from beneath your habit and throwing them somewhere in the dark, your middle finger immediately moving to your swollen and sensitive clit. Rubbing furiously at it, you let out a loud gasp, the feeling of the cock fucking into you, now at a violent pace. You grasped onto the shelf behind you with your free hard, trying to find something to ground you as much as possible, but nothing was working. Something invisible was pounding relentlessly into your cunt, using your body for their own pleasure and you were so wound up tight - you liked it.

Your body was already betraying you, your pussy tightening around the force inside you as the tension built to a breaking point. It was hitting all the right spots, fucking into you like no one else had managed to before. You bit on your bottom lip trying to remain quiet, but at this point your moans and pants were coming out so loudly, you were sure passers by could hear you.

*

Mountain’s breath was ragged as he thrust into the fleshlight, his large hands gripping it tightly, the soft silicone giving way under his force but clinging to him in the most maddening way. His head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut as the slickness inside seemed to pulse in time with his movements. Every stroke felt too real, too perfect—as if it were more than just a toy, something alive and responding to him.

His cock was fully buried now, his hips rolling slowly at first, but the tightness had him on edge, making it impossible to hold back. His groans grew louder, deep and rough, as he set a more urgent pace. The fleshlight gripped him harder, the wet warmth inside making every stroke smoother, more fluid, but also more intense. It felt better than it should have, the sensation almost too much for him to handle.

“Fuck…” he hissed under his breath, his length throbbing with need. Each thrust sent a pulse of pleasure through his body, his mind clouded with desire as he imagined you beneath him instead. The way you would look, your body writhing in pleasure as he buried himself inside you, the soft sounds of your moans filling the air. The thought made his cock twitch inside the toy, his pace quickening as he lost himself in the fantasy.

But then, something strange happened.

The fleshlight pulsed. It wasn’t just responding to his thrusts anymore—it was as if it had a life of its own, squeezing him, rippling around his length in a way that was too real, too connected. His eyes flew open, a gasp escaping him as he stilled for a moment, looking down at the toy in his hands.

“What the…?”

He felt it again, the sensation tightening, as if the fleshlight was reacting not to his body, but to something else entirely. The pulsing grew stronger, almost rhythmic, and it sent a jolt of pleasure through him so intense he nearly doubled over. He could feel the slick walls inside moving, as though mimicking the contractions of an actual body—your body.

Mountain’s heart raced, his mind spinning. There was no way this was just a toy anymore. He could feel it—feel you—somehow, in some way. It was impossible, but there was no denying the connection. The more he moved, the more the fleshlight reacted, tightening around him with each thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to his core.

His hips bucked involuntarily, the sensations overtaking him, his mind now filled with images of you. He imagined you trembling, the way your body would shake as he pushed into you, the look of desperation in your eyes as you tried to hold back your release. His pace became frantic, thrusting into the toy with abandon, the tight, wet warmth driving him to the edge.

He was so close. He could feel his orgasm building, his entire body tensing with the need for release. The pulsing around his cock grew more intense, as though it were pulling him deeper, milking him for everything he had.

“Fuck…” he groaned your name, unable to stop himself now. He was lost in the sensation, lost in the thought of you, the connection between you both tightening with every second.

*

You could feel the climax rushing toward you, unstoppable, consuming every part of you. And as the force inside you thrust again, harder this time, it finally sent you over the edge.

A wave of pure ecstasy crashed over you, the intensity of your orgasm ripping through you in shuddering waves. Your walls clenched down around the presence inside you, your body convulsing as pleasure coursed through you, lighting up every nerve. The release was overwhelming, and you bit down harder on your hand, stifling the moan that tore from your throat as your climax consumed you.

But the relentless pounding didn’t stop. Whoever was fucking you wasn’t done with you just yet.

*

Mountain felt you reach your peak, the pulsing sensation inside the fleshlight intensifying to a point that left him breathless. The way your body clenched around him, as if you were riding the wave of ecstasy, sent a jolt of raw pleasure straight to his core. He could almost hear your moans, soft and desperate, echoing in his mind as he envisioned you lost in your climax, your body trembling beneath him.

With every thrust, he was drawn closer to the edge, the need for release building within him like a tidal wave, crashing and surging. The connection felt electric, transcending the physical boundaries of your separate spaces, and it was almost overwhelming. As you shuddered in pleasure, he could feel the warmth radiating from the fleshlight, as if it were feeding off your climax, drawing him in.

“Fuck!” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. The fleshlight tightened around him, almost as if it was responding to your release, and the sensation drove him wild. He could feel the heat pooling in his stomach, a primal urge that had him gasping for air.

As you soared through your orgasm, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He thrust deeper, faster, losing himself completely in the moment. The world around him faded away, the only thing that mattered was the relentless pleasure coursing through him, the sensation of the silicone hugging him so tightly that it felt almost like a second skin.

With one final, powerful thrust, he reached his own peak. A wave of ecstasy crashed over him, his body convulsing as he spilled himself into the fleshlight. A deep, guttural groan escaped his lips as he rode out the intense waves of pleasure, feeling as if he were floating in a sea of bliss.

His hips stuttered as he felt the last tremors of his release, each pulse sending shockwaves of satisfaction through him. The connection, the overwhelming sensations—it was all too much, and he reveled in it, letting it consume him entirely.

Panting, he collapsed back against the bed, still reeling from the intensity of it all. The fleshlight lay discarded beside him, the warmth and slickness inside a reminder of the wild connection they had just shared. He could still feel the lingering echoes of your climax intertwining with his own, leaving him breathless and yearning for more.

What had just happened? It felt like more than just a fantasy—it felt like something deeper, something that blurred the lines of reality and desire. He found himself staring at the ceiling, a mix of confusion and exhilaration coursing through him. The next time he saw you, everything would change.

Prev./Next

[piaart]

It’s Dracopia Season 🧛‍♂️🩸

Day 1: Dracopia’s Bite

from @hystericmuse ‘s Ghostober challenge

Version 2 under the cut

[lyeofhell]

Vintage Papal Playgirl Centerfolds: Papa I ╰┈ Papa II 𖥔 Papa III 𖥔 The Cardinal

[foxybouquet]

𝓖𝓗𝓞𝓢𝓣𝓞𝓑𝓔𝓡 𝓓𝓐𝓨 1 - 𝓓𝓡𝓐𝓒𝓞𝓟𝓘𝓐’𝓢 𝓑𝓘𝓣𝓔

Hystericmuse prompt list.

Graphite, colored pencil, alcohol markers, white gel pen.

I based the pose and expression on a screenshot from Coppola’s BRAM STOKER’S #DRACULA (1992), a very emotional and tense scene, and I know this is a film very close to a lot of Ghost fans’ hearts, and indeed to that of its bandleader. Hope you like it!

[haunted-girlyy]

Dewdrop, grabbing Phantom from behind the corner and taking away his sweets: Trick or treat, bug.

Phantom, crying and screaming: THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS!

[claudia-letonja]

Finished! My only entry for Ghostober, "Marionette" (that's Agnetha Fälstskog, of ABBA)

[forlorn-crows]

𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒂𝒚 8: 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔-𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒔𝒎

pairing(s): sunshine/mountain words: 1536

notes: T4T—transfemme sunshine and transfemme mountain; cock/dick/balls for both of their anatomy

“Just relax, baby—doin’ so good,” Sunshine praises. Her voice is smooth and soothing, despite the activity they’re currently engaged in. “Such a sweet sapling for me—that’s it, all you have to do is let go.” She keeps her measured pace, rolling her hips each time she bottoms out so the head of her cock grazes in all the right spots. Mountain’s flushed down to her freckled chest, lip swollen where she keeps sucking it between her teeth. 

“Just—mmpf—don’t know how,” she pants. “Feels good, but I’ve . . . fuck, I’ve never—” Mountain had moaned about how good Sunny felt inside of her, how hard it was making her to have Sunny taking control, taking her. Could make me cum like this, she had gasped. Just fucking me.

But now, after Sunshine’s face lit up like the actual sun at the thought and she purred at the chance to make her climax without touching, and despite how sensitive she is down there, Mountain’s not actually sure she can.  

Sunny kisses away the worry budding in her chest. Hands gripping lovingly on her hips as she stays deep to grind, pulling Mountain out of her thoughts. Her lips are soft, eager.

“You know when you wake up sticky?” she whispers against the earth ghoulette’s mouth. “Shoving your face in the pillow ‘cause it feels too good?” Mountain groans at that, knowing all too well. The multi ghoulette continues: “‘S like that. That rush that snaps you right out of whatever you were dreamin’ about.”

“Oh,” Mountain breathes. She fists her hands into the blankets and arches into Sunny’s belly, thick cock pressing into its softness. Precum wells at the slit and catches on her happy trail, stretching when Mountain sags back down to the mattress. The friction feels too good, and Sunny knows it; she fights Mountain on the next thrust, holding her hips down so she can’t get more stimulation than what’s she’s given inside. 

“Uh uh. Don’t think about it,” she says softly, “just feel it. Just like the dreams.”

“Okay,” the earth ghoulette says in a small voice. “Can you . . . hah . . . can you go a little faster?”

Sunshine beams, dimples popping in her cheeks. “”Course I can, baby. Wanna make you feel good.”

“And—” Mountain swallows, face visibly reddening as she looks to the side. “Will you, um, be—you know, uh . . .”

“What?” Sunshine leans in as close as she can to Mountain’s face, burying herself all the way and skirting her hands up to her waist. “Want me to be sweet to you?”

“Yeah,” Mountain breathes, nodding her head.

“Want me to call you a good girl?” 

Mountain’s cock kicks hard between them, and she shudders. “Fuck, please; please tell me that.”

“Yeah?” The multi ghoulette resumes her thrusts. “My sweet sapling’s always a good girl. Taking my cock and letting herself feel good, hm?”

Mountain keens at how hot she is inside, how the little head of her cock somehow hits home every time. “Your—” she struggles with her words, gasping as Sunshine kisses at her shoulder. “Your-uh good . . . your good girl,” Mountain finally moans, letting her eyes slip closed as sensation starts to wash over her. 

“Such a good girl.” Sunny’s purr floats through her head, growing butterflies in her stomach. “Slip into that dream, baby; lemme take care of my pretty girl. Make you feel good.” The multi ghoulette hikes Mountain’s legs higher, snuggling her thighs into the dip of her waist so the angle takes her that much deeper. Though it’s no more than a few degrees of adjustment, something clicks on the next thrust—like an itch finally scratched, or a joint finally cracked. 

“Oh,” Mountain whines. “Oh, Sunshine—” Heat rises to her face and gets her panting. She can’t help but paw at everything around her: the blankets, Sunshines’ hair and her back, her own hair as she tosses her head against the pillow. Mountain wills that pleasure to take control. To cloud her rational mind with a dream-like haze that quiets the voice saying can’t. Instead of focusing on the present, she turns her mind to fantasy.

Sunshine thrusts into her hard, but instead of her cock, it’s her nimble fingers from earlier, pumping in and out as she spread Mountain open. Sunshine’s face, but it’s wrought with need instead of calm dominance. The huffs and grunts panted against her ear fits the image, and it makes her throb into the space between them. “Good girl,” Sunshine says, but now it’s Rain purring into her ear, his tentacle linking them together. For a split second, it’s Cirrus with her strap. And then it’s Sunshine again, and they’re humping each other like hungry rabbits, taking turns on the greenhouse daybed. She’s fucking her just like this—fast little thrusts that make her cock bounce and leak, make her grip the back of Sunny’s neck like a lifeline while her other hand kneads at her own breast. She’s not touching her now, but she’s touching her then, a small, firm hand around the swell of her balls, so full and tight to her body that she keens having them squeezed. 

It must be working, because present Sunny groans as Mountain’s body flutters around her length. “Fuuuck; good girl, that’s so good, sapling,” she praises. “Can you feel it yet? Feel it pullin’, makin’ you clench like that?”

She can, and she doesn’t dare open her eyes in case it breaks the delicate bubble she’s floating in. Mountain sighs an uh huh, nods almost absentmindedly, and slips back into the heady static.

If she focuses just enough, she can sink wholly into the feeling of Sunny fucking her; the glorious drag of her cock against her walls, the way she moves her and pins her in place like she isn’t some tall, gangly thing, the heat from her body sinking into her own just like the droplets of sweat mingling together on their chests, their bellies. It’s warm and syrupy and everything now makes her eyes roll back behind their lids, too good to keep them steady any longer. Kisses trail up her shoulder, her neck, and the way Sunshine has to crane her head to reach means she stays buried deep, grinding rather than thrusting. 

“Oh,” Mountain gasps. She wraps her arms around the smaller ghoulette’s body, keeping her there. Her stomach offers some friction against her neglected cock—not enough to count as touching, Mountain doesn’t think—but enough that Sunny’s pelvis squishes just right against her balls, and the head of her cock stays nudged inside right where she needs it. Rubbing, rubbing, rubbing against the spot that makes her shiver all over and leak like she’s never experienced before. 

The butterflies in her stomach swoop south, and a rush of pleasure hits her just like the pure emotion of a wet dream, intense and sudden. “I’m—” Another rush, sweeping up from her hole. “Don’t . . . Satanas, don’t sto-hah-p.”

“A little more,” Sunshine encourages. Uncontrollably, she starts to flutter around her cock, heartbeat twitching through her own length. “Just feel, clover,” she sighs, dropping her mouth to the hollow of Mountain’s throat and pulling the skin between her teeth.

“Oh, oh, oh shit; ‘m gonna—” It’s the suction of Sunny’s mouth that does it, tipping her unbelievably over into a full-body orgasm. 

“Fuckin’—oh, good girl, baby, look at you,” Sunny groans, unlatching from Mountain’s throat to watch her eyes roll back, useless hands hovering with half-curled fingers over the multi ghoulette’s shoulder blades. She’s nearly silent as she starts to cum, body folding in on itself. In reality it only takes a moment, but to Mountain it feels like ages that she spends suspended in warm, blossoming bliss. Like she’s been thrown straight into a riptide, tumbling over and over in her own pleasure before she even feels anything shoot from her cock. But when the initial rush finally crashes, she dribbles cum all over her own stomach with the tiniest squeak of a moan in the back of her throat. Thighs clamping against Sunshine’s sides and hips bucking clumsily. 

“F-fuck. Belial, fu-huh-ck.” With a loud gasp, Mountain collapses back onto the bed, her hands flopping down onto her chest as she stares at Sunshine, mouth agape.

“I did it,” she blurts. “How did you–oh–” Her eyes roll again as she’s hit with an aftershock, cock kicking weakly against her stomach. “I . . . wow.”

Sunny laughs breathlessly, slipping carefully from her body. “You did so wonderful, baby,” she praises with a kiss to her cheek. 

Mountain captures her lips instead, pulling her into an embrace. It’s sweet, lingering. Thankful. 

Mountain doesn’t want to pull away, but the firm press of Sunny’s cock against her belly is hard to ignore. The earth ghoulette pulls back, just enough for them to rest their foreheads against each other, and hums an acknowledgement towards the head she can see peeking out from between their bodies. 

She grins tiredly, but her satiation slowly gives way to mischief. “How can I ever thank you?” she lilts, sneaking her hand down to Sunny’s hip. Trailing her fingers lightly so the smaller ghoulette shivers against her. “Hah—I can think of a few ways,” Sunshine mumbles against Mountain’s lips with a grin of her own.

[blanchebees]

Another one for day 21

Tip jar

[michiororr]

Ghostober day seven

Nocturne

I wanted to do something about the song "nocturnal me", I would like to try this concept again and get a decent drawing of this good song.

Ghostober (2022) by @ pierrotgeist on Twitter

[her-satanic-wiles]

Kinktober Day 14 - Somnophilia

Papa Emeritus III x Reader

When you wore that specific nightwear to bed, Papa knew you were fair game. Doesn’t matter that you’re asleep, he’ll take what he wants.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 4.4k.

Reading Time: 18 min.

Warnings: creampie, free use, possessive, PIV sex, somnophilia, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @copiasslut @cosmixxdust @da-rulah @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @hauntedharmonic-ghoulishhaunter @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sister-of-sin-claudia @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

The Ministry was cloaked in the stillness of night, the kind that seemed to stretch time itself. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting faint silvery lines across the room. You lay peacefully in bed, oblivious to the quiet world around you, your breaths slow and even as you slept.

Papa Terzo stood in the doorway, his mismatched eyes gleaming in the dim light, fixated on you. His gaze lingered on the nightgown you wore, the one you’d chosen deliberately. You’d talked about this before, discussed how when you wore that particular gown to bed, it meant he could have you — whenever he wanted. It was a silent agreement, one he never forgot. Even now, as you lay completely unaware, you were his.

He moved closer, each step quiet and careful. The bed dipped slightly as he joined you, his fingers trailing along the edge of your nightgown. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, but there was a hunger in his movements, a hunger that simmered just beneath the surface.

Terzo’s fingers ghosted over the soft fabric of your nightgown, the tips just brushing your skin beneath. He took his time, savouring the moment, his gaze drinking in every curve and line of your body. The quiet of the room only amplified the sound of your slow, steady breaths, completely unaware of his presence beside you.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against the back of your neck as his lips barely grazed your skin. You stirred faintly, your body responding in sleep to his subtle touch, but still, you did not wake. It was exactly how he liked it — you, so vulnerable, so inviting, completely at his mercy.

With practiced ease, he slipped a hand beneath the hem of your gown, the tips of his fingers trailing slowly up your thigh. The fabric gathered at his wrist as he pushed it higher, exposing more of your skin to the cool air. His touch was possessive, confident, as though he’d already claimed you, but he was in no hurry. He wanted to enjoy every moment, to feel the heat of your body under his hands.

Leaning down further, his lips pressed against your bare shoulder, a kiss soft yet full of intent. He murmured something under his breath, words you couldn’t hear — a prayer, a promise, or perhaps a claim. He had no need to rush; you were his, after all, even in your dreams.

His fingers lingered on your thigh, teasingly tracing the soft skin there, before inching higher beneath your nightgown. Terzo’s breath hitched as he felt your warmth, the fabric of the gown slipping easily over his hand. His touch was slow, deliberate, enjoying every second of this secret indulgence. He knew that with each passing moment, his control was slipping, but that only made him enjoy it more.

Shifting his weight, he leaned further over your body, his lips brushing your ear now, his breath warm against your skin. He pressed another kiss there, more insistent this time, a silent reminder of his presence. His hand moved upwards, over your hips, slipping beneath the gown’s delicate fabric until it rested on your bare waist.

With a low, satisfied hum, he lifted your nightgown further, exposing more of your body to the cool night air. The silk slid effortlessly off your skin, pooling around your chest, leaving you almost bare beneath him. His eyes darkened, taking in the sight of you, laid out so perfectly, unaware of the desire coiling inside him.

His other hand followed, caressing your side as it travelled up to your chest. The pad of his thumb brushed lightly over your breast, testing, teasing, while his lips found the curve of your neck. He kissed you there, soft and languid, as if tasting you for the first time, each kiss lingering just a second too long.

As his hand moved, his touch grew firmer, more confident, fingers kneading your skin as he claimed you. The slow, steady rhythm of your breathing never faltered, not yet aware of the heat building between you. But that was the game — to see how much he could take before your body woke to his touch.

Terzo’s hands roamed freely now, confident in their exploration. His touch became more possessive, less teasing as he allowed himself to indulge in the feeling of your body beneath him. He shifted his weight slightly, adjusting so he could press his hips against you, the fabric of his clothes a sharp contrast to your exposed skin. His breath deepened as he ground into you gently, testing the waters, feeling the friction build between your bodies.

The nightgown had slipped further up your body, leaving you vulnerable to the cool air and his burning touch. His fingers skimmed your inner thigh again, this time with a firmer intention, lingering just close enough to make you stir in your sleep. Your body reacted to him instinctively, a small, unconscious moan escaping your lips, and that sound only fueled him further.

He let out a low chuckle, dark and quiet, as he watched you shift beneath him. Still, you didn’t wake, though your body responded. Your hips moved faintly, a subtle arching as if seeking more of the pressure he applied, but your mind remained unaware.

Terzo’s eyes flashed with a mixture of pride and desire. He knew exactly how much control he held over you — how deeply his presence could affect you, even in sleep. It thrilled him, knowing he could coax these reactions from you, push you further without a single word spoken.

One hand slid between your thighs, fingers brushing lightly over your folds, testing your readiness. You were already warm, soft and inviting, and he smirked in satisfaction. He traced circles lazily, building the tension with agonising slowness, his other hand continuing its slow exploration of your breasts.

His lips pressed against your throat now, open-mouthed kisses trailing down to your collarbone, tasting you as he went. He murmured something in Italian, a praise, a prayer, or perhaps a wicked promise, the words barely audible in the silence of the room. His fingers pressed more insistently, slipping inside you with ease, and you let out another soft moan, your body arching into his touch.

Terzo’s smile widened. He could feel the power he had over you — over your body, over your pleasure — and it drove him mad with desire. His movements quickened, his control beginning to slip as his own need grew more urgent. He wanted to hear more, feel more, push you until you couldn’t help but wake to the pleasure he was drawing from you.

Terzo’s control wavered with each passing moment, the slow drag of his fingers inside you making it harder for him to hold back. He could feel how your body reacted, how you clenched around him in your sleep, a response to the pleasure building inside you even though your mind remained blissfully unaware. His thumb traced gentle circles over your clit, coaxing more of those quiet, sleepy moans from your lips.

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear again, this time with more intensity. His breath was hot against your skin, and he couldn’t resist the urge to bite, a small nip on the soft lobe of your ear, just enough to make your body jolt in response. Still, you remained half-submerged in your dreams, your body betraying you as it shifted closer to him.

His hand moved faster now, his fingers thrusting deeper, finding the perfect rhythm that made your hips buck faintly against him. He smirked, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, savouring the soft skin beneath his mouth. His free hand gripped your thigh, pulling you closer, positioning you exactly how he wanted.

The bed creaked slightly under his shifting weight as he moved over you, his body pressing down on yours. His cock strained against his trousers, the rough friction almost painful as he ground into you, seeking relief. But he wasn’t ready to take that final step yet. No, he wanted to have this just a little longer — the sight of you, so vulnerable, so at his mercy, still oblivious to the pleasure he was wringing from your body.

Terzo’s fingers slid out of you slowly, and he watched as your body protested the loss with a quiet, breathy whimper. His smirk widened. He pulled back just enough to watch you, your nightgown bunched around your waist, your skin flushed from his touch. The sight of you like this, spread out beneath him, stirred something primal inside him, something that made him want to claim you completely.

With a soft groan, he undid his trousers, freeing his cock from the confines of the fabric. He stroked himself once, twice, the anticipation building, but still, he held back. He wanted to push you to the edge before he took what he wanted. He positioned himself between your legs, his tip brushing against your wet folds, and he paused, savouring the tension.

With a low, satisfied growl, Terzo pressed his hips forward, sinking into you slowly, feeling the deliciously tight heat that enveloped him. He moved deliberately, inch by inch, careful not to wake you just yet. The feeling of your body wrapped around him, so warm and inviting, nearly made him lose the control he had been holding onto all night.

He paused when he was fully inside you, his chest rising and falling as he fought to steady himself. The temptation to move, to thrust into you with all the pent-up desire he’d been holding back, gnawed at him, but he resisted. This was his moment, and he wanted to remember every second. His hand rested on your waist, fingers digging in gently as he relished the feeling of you beneath him, utterly unaware of the pleasure he was taking for himself.

For a moment, he didn’t move, simply enjoying the sensation of your body wrapped around him, your soft, slow breaths and the faint stir of your sleeping form beneath him. But he couldn’t stay still for long. Slowly, carefully, he began to move, pulling out only slightly before pushing back in, each thrust deep and deliberate, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through him.

His pace was measured, controlled, as he rocked his hips into you, keeping the movements subtle enough not to wake you but deep enough to feed the aching need building within him. The friction between your bodies, the heat of you wrapped around him so completely, made him bite his lip to hold back a moan. He wanted more — needed more — but he refused to rush it.

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as he thrust into you again, a little harder this time. Your body reacted in sleep, a faint sigh escaping your lips, your muscles tightening around him. The sound only encouraged him, and he thrust again, slower this time, watching your body shift with the force of his movements, but still, you remained lost in your dreams.

Terzo’s eyes darkened with lust as he continued, his pace steady, relentless, each thrust claiming you more and more. He could feel the tension building in his own body, the need to drive deeper, harder, but he held back just enough to keep you in that perfect state of blissful ignorance. He wanted to take everything from you, to enjoy every second of this stolen moment where he had you entirely to himself.

The bed creaked softly with each movement, and his breath grew more ragged, but still, you didn’t stir. Terzo smirked to himself, his lips brushing the soft skin of your neck as he continued to take what he wanted, his body moving against yours with a steady rhythm. He could stay like this forever, lost in the pleasure of your body, the power of having you at his mercy, completely unaware of what he was doing to you.

Terzo’s breath came in short, shallow gasps now, his body completely attuned to the feeling of you around him. Each slow thrust sent waves of pleasure rippling through him, but what excited him more than anything was the knowledge that you were still completely unaware of his actions. He loved it — loved having you like this, your body responding on instinct while your mind remained blissfully adrift in sleep. It was intoxicating, the way he could take you without permission, without a word exchanged, and know that you had given him this control.

He’d always loved the way you surrendered to him, the trust between you that allowed him to push boundaries. But there was something different, something deeply satisfying about this — taking you while you were lost in your dreams, knowing he could do anything he wanted, and you wouldn’t wake.

With each thrust, he claimed you more fully, his hands gripping your hips tightly now, anchoring himself as he rocked into you with a steady rhythm. His body moved with calculated precision, drawing out every sensation, relishing the control he held over your unconscious form. The soft sounds of your breathing, the way your body instinctively reacted to his movements, only heightened the rush of pleasure coursing through him.

He leaned down, his lips hovering just above your ear, his breath warm and heavy. “You don’t even know what I’m doing to you, do you?” he whispered, his voice thick with lust. The power he felt in that moment was overwhelming, the thrill of knowing he could take whatever he wanted, and you would remain utterly unaware, completely pliant beneath him.

His hips rolled forward again, deeper this time, and he felt the way your body responded, tightening around him as if welcoming him in, even in your sleep. A low groan escaped his lips, and he bit down on his lower lip to stifle it, relishing in the pleasure, the heat, the control. He wanted this to last, wanted to stretch out every second of it, but the tension in his body was building, the pleasure becoming almost too much to bear.

Still, he didn’t stop. He loved the feeling of being buried inside you while you slept, loved the quiet intimacy of it, the way your body belonged to him in this perfect, vulnerable state. His hands roamed your skin, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, your back, down to your thighs, as if memorising every inch of you in this moment. He could have you whenever he wanted, but there was something irresistible about the way you yielded to him now, completely unaware of the pleasure he was taking from you.

His pace quickened slightly, his thrusts becoming more insistent, harder to hold back. He wanted to push you further, see how much he could take before your body woke to his relentless desire. But for now, he reveled in this — in the quiet, stolen pleasure of having you all to himself, while you lay there, asleep, so beautifully unaware.

A slow warmth began to stir in the pit of your stomach, pulling you from the depths of sleep. You shifted beneath the weight of him, a soft sigh escaping your lips as your body instinctively clenched around him. The sensation was overwhelming, the thickness of him buried deep inside you, filling you in a way that made your pulse quicken. It took a moment for your mind to catch up with your body, but as the fog of sleep lifted, the reality of what was happening hit you all at once.

Terzo was deep inside you, moving slowly, rhythmically, his hands gripping your hips with possessive strength. The pleasure surged through you the moment you woke, your body responding immediately to the sensation of him stretching you. A soft moan slipped past your lips, not of surprise, but of pure, raw pleasure. You loved the way he filled you so completely, the way his body pressed into yours, the weight of him anchoring you in place.

Your walls clenched around him again, this time more deliberately, drawing a low groan from his lips. He felt you wake beneath him, your body finally stirring in response to his slow, deliberate thrusts, and a dark smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Ah, you’re awake, tesoro,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire as he leaned down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “I wondered how long you’d stay asleep while I took what’s mine.”

Your breath hitched, but instead of pulling away, you pressed back against him, pushing your hips into his, inviting him deeper. The feeling of him inside you, the slow, steady thrusts, the warmth of his body covering yours—it was all too much, too perfect. You loved it. You loved the way he took you, even while you were asleep, how he knew exactly how to make you respond without needing words.

You clenched around him again, harder this time, a silent challenge for him to keep going. “Don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice breathless, still heavy from sleep but already filled with need. Your body ached for him now, the pleasure surging through you, the growing heat in your core demanding more.

Terzo’s grip tightened on your hips, and he let out a low, approving hum, his thrusts quickening slightly in response to your words. “You love it, don’t you?” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice dark and teasing. “Waking up with me inside you… knowing I’ve been taking you this whole time.”

You could only nod, your head tilting back against the pillow as another wave of pleasure hit you, your body moving in time with his thrusts. The feeling of him, thick and hard inside you, was addictive, each stroke sending a fresh rush of heat to your core. You loved it—the control he had, the way he claimed you even while you slept, and the way he made you crave him the moment you woke.

You gasped as another deep thrust filled you completely, and with it came the familiar, thrilling rush that you loved so much. There was something deeply intoxicating about waking up like this—your body already in the throes of pleasure, with Terzo inside you, his hands gripping you possessively, his hips moving in that deliberate, hungry rhythm. The vulnerability of it, the helplessness, sent a delicious shiver down your spine. You trusted him completely, trusted him to take what he wanted, and that trust only made it more arousing.

You loved the way he used you in your sleep, the way he took control of your body while you were unaware, vulnerable to his every touch. There was something about giving him that power, that unspoken consent you shared, that thrilled you. It wasn’t just the physical pleasure—though that was undeniable—but the idea of him watching you, waiting for the perfect moment to take what was his. The idea of him using you while you slept, knowing you wouldn’t wake until he was ready, made you feel cherished and desired in a way that went beyond mere words.

The vulnerability was addictive. You loved the feeling of being completely at his mercy, knowing that he could take you any time he wanted, and your body would welcome him, even in the depths of sleep. It was a heady mix of trust and lust, that perfect balance where you felt safe, even in your most exposed state. And now, as you woke to the steady rhythm of his thrusts, the pleasure of it washed over you like a wave, filling you with a sense of surrender that made your toes curl.

Terzo’s lips ghosted over your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “You love being mine like this, don’t you? Completely unaware, letting me use you while you sleep.”

You moaned softly, the truth of his words making your body clench around him in response. “Yes,” you breathed, your voice thick with arousal. “I l-love it when you use me… fuck, Papa! P-please!”

He chuckled darkly, clearly pleased with your response, his thrusts becoming just a little rougher, a little more insistent. “Good,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening. “You’re mine to take whenever I want, whether you’re awake or not.”

And that was what you loved most—the sense of belonging. In those quiet moments when he took you like this, it was as though your body wasn’t just yours anymore, but his to command, to use, to enjoy. It was a pure surrender, a submission not just of your will, but of your very being, and it turned you on in ways you never thought possible.

The vulnerability only heightened the pleasure. Every deep thrust, every low groan from him, reminded you of how much he wanted you, how deeply he desired you. And knowing that you could trust him, that he would take care of you even when you were most exposed, made the surrender all the sweeter.

With each thrust, the pressure in your core built, coiling tighter and tighter, until the sensation became almost overwhelming. Terzo’s body pressed against yours, his pubic mound grinding deliciously against your clit with every deliberate stroke. The friction was intoxicating, sending electric jolts of pleasure radiating through you, igniting every nerve ending.

You could feel the tension rising, a sweet, unbearable pressure mounting deep inside you. As he continued to drive into you, his movements perfectly timed with the grind against your sensitive nub, you found yourself spiralling closer to the edge, teetering on the brink of something exquisite. Your breath hitched in your throat, your body instinctively arching towards him, craving more of that sweet friction.

“Please,” you gasped, the word tumbling from your lips as your fingers clawed at the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto. “Terzo… don’t stop.”

He responded with a low, guttural chuckle, the sound vibrating through your body and only heightening your arousal. “I won’t, tesoro,” he promised, his voice thick with lust. “You’re so close, aren’t you? Just let go for me.”

The combination of his words and the relentless rhythm of his thrusts sent you tumbling over the edge. The pressure exploded, and your orgasm crashed through you like a tidal wave, enveloping you in its overwhelming force. You clenched around him involuntarily, your body instinctively trying to draw him deeper, wanting to keep him there for as long as possible.

A series of breathy moans escaped your lips, each one a testament to the ecstasy washing over you, pulling you under in its tide. The world around you blurred, and all that existed was the feeling of him inside you, the pleasure rolling through your body, waves of bliss crashing over you again and again.

Terzo’s breath hitched, his pace faltering for just a moment as he felt your body clench around him, your orgasm drawing him in deeper. “That’s it,” he urged, his voice low and husky. “Let it take you. Just enjoy it, amore.”

You surrendered completely, lost in the depths of your pleasure, the sensations overwhelming your senses. It was a delicious, dizzying spiral, and you couldn’t help but let go completely, trusting him to hold you steady as you rode out the waves of bliss. Your breath froze, mind clouded over. You could feel your eyes going heavy again as the orgasm subsided, but the way he was pounding into you and driving you to oversensitivity was far too delicious to fall asleep again.

As your orgasm began to ebb, the lingering waves of pleasure still coursing through your body, you could feel Terzo’s movements growing more urgent. Each thrust became more frantic, driven by the need to chase his own release, the intensity of your climax igniting the fire within him. He watched you, his eyes dark with desire, relishing the way your body responded to him, how you quivered and trembled beneath his weight.

“Sathanas,” he breathed, the words a low growl of desperation as he pressed deeper into you. “You feel so good… so fucking perfect.”

With every thrust, he could feel the tension coiling tightly within him, the heat pooling in his core, edging him closer to the precipice. Your body was still clenching around him, the aftershocks of your pleasure wrapping around him, coaxing him closer, drawing him into that sweet abyss. He loved the way you surrendered, how your body welcomed him even in your most vulnerable state, and it pushed him further into the depths of desire.

His thrusts grew more erratic, each movement driven by primal need as he chased the high that was just out of reach. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mingling with the breathy gasps and moans that escaped from both of you. He could feel the tightening in his stomach, the telltale signs of his impending climax, and he pushed himself deeper, wanting to lose himself in the pleasure of you.

“Just like that, love,” he urged, his voice thick with lust. “You’re so perfect… so fucking perfect. I’m almost there… I can feel it.”

The heat between you was unbearable, the sensation of your body around him pushing him closer to the edge. Terzo’s fingers dug into your hips as he thrust harder, driven by the need to bury himself completely in you. He could feel the pressure building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, and it was only a matter of moments before it all came crashing down.

With one final, deep thrust, he surrendered to the pleasure that had been building inside him, his body tensing as he found his release. A low, guttural groan escaped his lips as he came, filling you with warmth, the sensation of his climax sending ripples of pleasure through both of you. He stayed buried inside you, relishing the way your body wrapped around him, holding him close as he rode out the waves of ecstasy.

“Cazzo… I’ve never wanted you more,” he murmured, his voice breathless and filled with satisfaction as he collapsed against you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. “You make me feel alive, tesoro.”

As you both lay there, bodies intertwined, you basked in the afterglow of your shared pleasure, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a warm blanket, reminding you just how deeply connected you felt to him, the tendrils of sleep curling in on you as you breathed in his scent and silently worshipped his body until the world went dark once more.

Prev./Next

[shaykesqueer]

Ghostober Day 9: Force Masc

CW: Dirty talk, anal, pet play, ftm Dew and Aether

Thank you @kroas-adtam for organising!

Aether just needs a little encouragement before he fucks Dew like a good boy…

Dewther won in the poll, but not pictured is the follow up - Aether fucking Lulu’s tits 😈

Full Uncensored on Pillowfort and Patreon 💕

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[nihildenial]

On the Nose by nihil-denial (wc: 1,465)

Pairings: Special Ghoul & Copia's Rats

Rating: Gen

Tags: Fluff, No hurt, Animal love, Copia's rats, Rigatoni the Rat

Summary: Special Ghoul believes he won't enjoy pet-sitting Papa Emeritus IV's twelve pet rats. Perhaps he shouldn't make assumptions that quickly.

It’s difficult to continue daily tasks in a quiet Ministry. Special Ghoul’s routine of sweeping, paperwork, and media management was typically easy because of the flurry of activity that kept distracting him. However, with Papa Emeritus IV, the Ghouls, and Papa Nihil out on tour, Phil was left in charge of most of the ghoul’s daily chores. The Siblings stepped up for a lot of it, much to his relief. 

So, that meant he could keep his normal schedule of document reviewing, instgram and email wrangling, sweeping…and now, rat babysitting. He wasn’t looking forward to starting that task today. Rats were considered pests in New York City, only an hour’s drive from the Ministry. Sure, the Rats song was fun to shoot and the cartoon stickers Copia handed out were cute, but the real animals were probably a mess of dirty vermin that the man has managed to look past to find something adorable in.

He probably would get dirt all in his tunic. 

Special Ghoul straightened his belt and hung his mask by his fascia as he neared Papa Copia’s room. He closed his deep amber eyes and took a deep, settling breath before he pushed through the heavy velvet curtains. 

He feels for the light switch, jumping when it triggers the large lava lamp on the side table. “Fucking hell,” he mutters and continues through the small living area to the bedroom. He switches on the overhead lights and sighs at the large metal structure taking up the entirety of the right wall. 

Special stares at it then looks to where he presumes the Anti-Pope sleeps. It’s a twin mattress on the floor, pushed up against the middle wall. The fire Ghoul knows that the man’s coffers are more than full enough for a nice bedroom set. They’re satan worshippers for fuck’s sake; Special needs to convince the man to put his selfish wants first for once. 

Special sets the several bags of things on the neatly tucked bed. A packet of paper is sitting innocently on the Star Wars pillow. 

He then walks to the floor-to-ceiling cage and comes eye-to-eye with the rodents Copia so dearly loves. Special flips to the first page (it’s a motherfucking table of contents) and then the next, which has a picture and description of each of the twelve pet rats. 

Alfredo

Allegro

Buccatini

Crescendo

Farfalle

Gemelli

Gemini

Legato

Minestra

Opus

Rigatoni

Toccata

A star sticker was placed next to Rigatoni’s picture, designating him as Copia’s ‘heart rat’ or whatever that meant. Phil closes the packet and sets it aside. He toes off his shoes outside of the baby crates that surround the cage and carefully steps inside, trying not to step on any of the toys. 

Squeaks of all pitches meet his ears. He finally looks up to meet the excited gazes of the rats. They’re squirming, jumping, wrestling and going between the many different levels of the cage. A bunch of them gather on the floor nearest his face. There’s little dirt or visible poop on the colorful blankets and dig box. In fact, the longer he stands there, he notices how they use their tiny arms to lick and wash their faces and bodies.

“Why are you all actually cute?” He asks quietly as a pink nose pushes between the thin bars of the enclosure. He boops it gently. “I can’t let Papa know he was right.”

The black and white rodent jumps away from the bars, scurries up onto one of the hanging hammocks, then bounces back to press against the bars. It repeats it when Special touches the pink nose again.

Oh, it wants to play. 

“Okay, okay, let me make sure this is secure before I let all of you out.” He checks the corners of the playpen, fills the thin bowl with water and most of the frozen peas and carrots, then steps back up to the cage. The latch on the bottom area is simple. 

As soon as the doors are open, the rats are eagerly scurrying down the short ramp to the cushioned floor. Copia’s instructions say he can let them go by themselves for a bit, so he steps out to observe them.

Special watches their fuzzy, avocado-shaped bodies move with such a feeling of excitement that he finds himself smiling down at them. Geez, he’s turning soft. 

A large, golden rat pauses in its place at the platter of peas and pellets to stare up at him. It crawls around its packmates and tries to jump onto the playgate. Surprisingly it makes it almost to the top. Special falls to his knees and grabs the rodent to keep it from escaping. 

The animal is squishy, warm, and wiggly. It calms as it relaxes in the radiant warmth of his palm, closing its beady but cute black eyes. According to the papers, this is Rigatoni, a special rat. 

Special ghoul carefully pets the rat’s head with a finger. When the rat relaxes more, he caresses the animal’s pudgy body. 

It’s calming. Special is holding a tiny life in his hands, and is being trusted unconditionally . He’s a scrappy fire ghoul meant to fight in the pits of Hell and this little creature finds something good enough in him to relax. He has to wipe the hot tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his tunic. 

“Hello, Rigatoni,” he croaks. 

The rat opens its eyes and stretches its delicate pink arms and legs, climbing up his arm to sit on his shoulder. 

Special has seen Copia walking around with a few of the rodents like this. Sometimes he even puts a basket on his stupid tricycle for several rats to ride around in. 

More of the rats have finished fishing for peas to hop at the gate to gain his attention. He reaches down and picks up one of the docile black and white ones. Allegro paws at the embroidered ghoul symbols. 

“Yes, I’m a ghoul,” he answers the rat.

He has to put the rat back down when it tries chewing off the patch. “No, no. No nibbling off my patches. I know it was a few of you little shits that did that to Papa’s favorite pants.”

He tries to look at them sternly, but their tiny, curious faces make it extremely difficult. Special reads a few more pages of Copia’s instructions. 

“You guys want some treats?” He says and laughs at the eager frenzy that causes. He presses the rectangular bits of sweet potato, peas, and walnut pieces in the different balls, snuffle mats, and hammocks. 

Rigatoni crawls down his arm to hop back into the playpen to join the search for treats. When he tries to take one of the balls to put more treats in, Toccata grabs it and starts an impromptu tug-of-war. When Phil carefully tosses it in, the grey rat pushes it around with it’s pink nose like a dog. 

-

“Have you seen Special Ghoul?” Sister Gwenyth pokes her head into the Siblings’ communal kitchen.

Brother Ezra shakes his head from where he’s stirring in a large pot. “Not since this morning. He said he was going to feed Papa’s rats.”

She purses her lips and looks to the few other Siblings in the kitchen. All of them give her equally unhelpful answers. She turns and heads back out into the cloister, checking the empty Ghoul crypt once more. She goes back upstairs to the main level and heads towards the papal wing. 

She tries not to think too hard about the empty bedrooms as she passes them. She stops outside the curtain, a line of light spilling from under the doorway. “Phil?” She calls.

When she gets no answer, she cautiously steps inside. The living room is empty, so she moves on.

The bed is filled with the Ghoul’s duffel bag and discarded silver mask. She looks over the edge of the playpen by the open rat cage (not seeing any rats or squeaks, which makes her panic) and sees the most adorable sight.

Special Ghoul, asleep in the middle of the large space, with twelve rats snuggling in the junctions of his neck and on top of his chest. He looks so peaceful, his sharp, charcoal grey features relaxed. The rats on his chest are snuggling under one of his hands, their tails sticking out from his fingers. In the crook of his neck is a bunch of curled up rodent noses pressed against each other and moving with their breaths. 

She has to physically restrain herself from making noise. Gwenyth frantically captures the moment with her phone and sends it to Copia. She checks that all of them are indeed breathing and snaps another picture before leaving them alone. The tax documents can wait until tomorrow.

[foxybouquet]

GHOSTOBER, DAY 27:

“Original Papa Corpse Paint.”

What if the Ministry called upon Mary Goore to take up the mantle? I think even after receiving the White Eye, they might not fully let go of their previous identity. A little blood mixed in with the greasepaint, then.

From the Gonst prompt list.

No. 6 #graphite #pencil.

[noahl-art]

Ghostober - Day 14

Swiss loves to take it slow and sweet with Rain, because his princess deserves it 🥰

FULL VERSION HERE!