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spooky-pomegranate · 7 months ago

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Eyes on Fire (pt 2)

*Enemies to Lovers inspired by the Year Zero music video*

Papa Emeritus II x Reader (18+)Word Count: 3.4k (Part 1) (Read on AO3) (Part 3)

Summary: Hoping to escape the headaches of Imperatrix's life you spend time in a forbidden section of the Abbey. Meanwhile, a sleepless Papa Secondo goes for a walk in the early morning hours to clear his mind.

(Dividers by @wrathofrats)

There was only one place you wanted to be...

A place far away from Papa’s dining room, the bustling great hall, and the dormitories flooded with siblings preparing for a night full of debauchery and sin. You wanted to be in the one place that felt most like home with the people who felt most like family. So you climbed. Stride by stride you moved down ancient and worn stone steps covered in cobwebs and dust as you made your way toward the ghoul dens.

The Abbey had stood on the same grounds for hundreds of years. In that time many improvements had been made. A swimming pool was added in the 1890s, the great hall was expanded in the 1920s, and more recently the kitchens had gone under a total rehaul, with new top-of-the-line appliances and expresso machines flown in from Italy. But the one place the ministry hadn’t touched in all those years was the space below.

The basement of the Abbey was a restricted section for all siblings. Partially because it was a bit unsafe and partially because the ghouls were too much of a handful to be trusted with nice things. There was no electrical power down below. The stone walls in the basement were lit only by candle sconces that threw around long casting and eerie shadows. To those unfamiliar, the basement probably looked more like a crypt than it did a home for hell-spawn creatures. But the ghouls liked it that way and so did you.

At the bottom of the stairs, you snatched a candle from one of the wall scones. For some reason lately, there had been an influx of rats scurrying around the Abbey. The last thing you needed was to accidentally step on one. That might just send you to orbit.

By candlelit, you followed the halls through their maze of twists and turns before stopping in front of a massive set of wooden double doors. A large bronze knocker cast in His image hung from the center. You picked it up and slammed it against the splintering wood door three times.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

“Yeah. Yeah,” you heard a familiar voice call from the other side. “Hold onto your granny panties would ya.”

The door groaned in a heavy sigh as it opened. A scrawny maskless ghoul stood in the entryway. Two white horns protruded from the crown of his head and ashen black skin covered his body. When his orange eyes met yours his spaded tail flicked from side to side.

“Hey! What’s up little snack pack?”

“Hey, Dew,” you sighed. “Can I come in?”

“Sure thing babe.” The fire ghoul bowed with a flourish and waved for you to enter. “Right this way little lady. You look like shit by the way.”

You rolled your eyes as you stepped past the ghoul. The main room of the ghoul den was decorated in what a generous person might call an “eclectic style.” Mix-matched furniture from varying decades was strewn around the room in random places. A few soft carpets were layered on top of one another to confront the cold that seeped into the stone floors during the winter months and much like the stairs leading to the basement, candles burned on the walls basking the place in a soothing warm and yellow light. It wasn’t beautiful. It wasn’t even that clean. But maybe because this was the only place in the Abbey that wasn’t dripping in opulence, it felt like being wrapped in a warm hug. And you needed that right now.

In the center of the room, Cumulus and Auoroa lounged on a lime-green sofa. On a small coffee table in front of them, snacks and drinks were laid out. They waved for you to join them.

“Hey guys,” you said, plopping down on the couch between them with a huff. Dew grabbed a guitar from a table by the door and sat in a chair across from you. Aimlessly he started picking at its strings.

“Hey, love,” Cumulus said smiling from your left. Like Dew, her skin was the color of burnt embers but her eyes differed. They were a beautiful soft gray. The same color as the sky before an evening storm or the pebbles on the beach by the lake south of the Abbey. “What are you doing down here? Shouldn’t you be in that shiny new suite of yours? Mountain told us it was real pretty.”

“Honestly today’s been a day,” you answered, sinking further into the couch. “Just wanted to hang out if that’s alright. Unless you guys had plans. Then I can fuck off.”

“Nah. No plans,” Aurora assured you, popping a chip into her mouth before offering you one. “We were just gonna practice for a bit. Unless you wanna talk about your day?”

“God no,” you answered, taking the chip. “Listening to you guys sounds really nice actually.”

“Oh thank Satan,” Dew huffed. Both Cumulus and Aurua shot the fire ghoul daggers and he stopped strumming the black and white guitar in his lap. “What?! Don’t lie you both wanna sing. You have been begginggggggg me to practice with you. ‘Dew please play with us,’” He impishly sang. “’Dew no one plays like you. Please Dew. You’re so talented with your fingers Dew.’”

“No one said that,” Aurura grumbled, throwing a chip at him. It landed squarely in between his eyes.

“Also we don’t sound like that. Plus if she’s having a bad day some humans like to talk about their feelings,” Cumulus added, picking up another chip and throwing it at Dew. “It’s called empathy dipshit.”

Dew stuck out his tongue and you laughed. You were surrounded by idiots. Sweet and loveable idiots. You were feeling better already. After a few more minutes of juvenile bickering, the hellspawns eventually settled down and started to play.

For as long as you’d known Dew he’d been a cocky shit, always bragging about his skills with a guitar. But as you listened to him play you knew he’d earned every brag he’d ever boasted. He was a magician with strings. Plucking and picking with a mesmerizing mastery that had to have been a gift from Satan himself. But the ghoulettes were just as spellbinding. Their harmonizing voices bounced off the high-bowed walls like sirens, lulling you into easy relaxation. At some point, you decided to crawl off the couch and lie on the floor, curling up in a pile of pillows and blankets and letting the music soothe you.

“That’s really pretty…” you murmured half-asleep, during a short break in the music.

“Mhmm. It is,” Cumulus purred from her spot on the couch.

“What’s it mean?”

“You don’t speak Latin?” Dew asked incredulously, before taking a long draw of some water Aurora had passed him.

You propped yourself up on your elbow and looked back at the fire ghoul. “Eh. I’m a little rusty.”

“Through hardships to hell.”

“What?”

“That’s what it means,” Dew answered, setting his water aside. “Per aspera ad inferi. It means through hardships to hell.”

“Oh,” you said shirking back to the floor and into your covers. It hadn’t occurred to you that this song might be incredibly personal to the three ghouls. They had quite literally crawled through hell to be here in this Abbey and serve the ministry. They had come from the real below.

“Did you guys come up with that?” You didn’t know much about their journey. You’d always assumed it wasn’t your place to ask or to know, but the song… it had been so haunting and yet… so strangely familiar. Even though you hadn’t understood the words, the music had clung to you. Like thick sticky syrup, it had swirled into your blood and mixed in your veins. You felt an inexplicable connection that was as old as time.

“No. We didn’t write it,” Cumulus said quietly.

“Who did?”

The three ghouls looked at one another. Seconds passed like minutes.

“Papa.”

There wasn’t much point in staying in the dens after that. You’d come down here to escape thoughts of Secondo only to be reminded of him all over again.

The climb back toward your suite didn’t take long. The Abbey was quiet this late at night. The hallways were empty of their regular hustle and bustle. Most siblings were asleep in their beds or tangled up in the sheets of another. You reached your door in record time. You pulled out your brass key and slid it into the door... but it was already unlocked.

You heard the crackling of your fireplace before you saw him. He was seated with his back to you in one of the tufted leather armchairs across the room. There were no lights on and you couldn’t see his face from the doorway, but none of that mattered. You knew who it was. Only one person owned the tense curve of those broad shoulders. It was him. It was Secondo. He was here in your room.

“Do I repulse you, sorella?” His voice boomed over the fire.

You froze in the doorway. Legs cemented to the ground, heart ready to bound out of your chest. What was he doing here? Had he come to expel you from the church? Was he going to smile as he tossed you out on your ass?

“Speak up sorella,” Secondo commanded. “I will repeat my question. Do I repulse you?”

“N-no, Papa,” you managed to squeak.

“Come here. I want to look at you while we have this conversation.”

Fuck. So this was it. The sadist was going to make you leave right here and now in the middle of the night. You moved across the room and into the dancing firelight.

After what had happened in the dining room you weren’t prepared to meet Secondo’s eye line again. So you delayed it. Slowly you looked him over, starting at his feet and working your way north.

Secondo wore a pair of black Oxfords, buffed and polished so pristinely that you saw your reflection staring back at you. A few inches higher black socks peaked out from underneath a pair of crisp black slacks. And on his steadily rising and falling chest, he’d opted for a button-down of a matching color. A black and emerald Grucifix hung from his neck. Head to toe he was dressed in black.

He looked like an undertaker. You closed your eyes. You weren’t ready to be laid out on his slab.

“You will answer me honestly, sorrella. No lies to your Papa.” It wasn’t a question but you nodded anyway.

You opened your eyes and looked at Secondo’s face. Since dinner, he’d washed away his sacred paints. A pair of dark aviators were perched on his crooked nose. He looked every bit like the Papa the siblings whispered about. An angry, bitter man, full of rage waiting for a spark to ignite his fire.

“You won’t partake in the offerings?” He questioned.

“No, Papa.”

“It is late, sorrella. I will not drag this out. Tell me your reason and do not lie.”

Secondo was right.

It was late. The clock in the corner of your room had finished its 24-hour cycle and the hours had reached into the early morning. But you were sick of having this conversation. You were sick of defending yourself. Fuck it. If Sister Imperator hadn’t told him you would—cards on the table.

“I don’t like to be so casual about who I have sex with.”

For a moment Secondo looked confused before he burst into a fit of laughter. Bending at the hip, he slapped his gloved hands on the arms of your chair. “Say that again sorella. That is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day.”

You wanted to slap him. Anger pooled in your stomach. Your fist clenched at your side. “I believe sex means something more when there’s more than just a physical connection.”

Secondo laughed again and you bit your cheek. “You know you sound like a Catholic when you say these things. ‘Means something more.’ Are you going to tell me that the next sister I sleep with I should marry and that I should make as many babies with her as possible?”

Secondo rose from the chair and stepped toward you. Inches separated you. You could smell his cologne. Rich and deep. Sacramental incense lingered on his clothes. He stared down at you over the ridge of his nose. His brows cast long, and angry shadows over his already glowering features.

“Do not confuse our rituals for something deeper, sorrella.”

“Of course, you would misunderstand me.”

The words slipped from your tongue before you could think twice. But you didn’t want them back. You meant it.

You’d seen Secondo.

You’d watched him as he moved through the Abbey every day and every night. He only ever thought of himself. He was a taker, never minding what others needed. What others wanted. So why would a conversation here and now be any different? Why would he consider any other person’s perspective but his own? He didn’t even remember what he’d said to you. How he’d hurt you.

“Watch your tone diavolessa,” he growled. “I am your Papa.”

Exactly right, you thought. You are my Papa but you are not my owner. My maker. My master. You have no right to claim me or to force me to do anything. I own my destiny. Not you. You took another step closer to Secondo, the front of your habit brushed against his dress shirt. Unafraid you tilted your chin up. Fire blazed in your eyes. Heat emanated from his chest.

“Apologies, your dark excellency. I will ask Sister Imperator to move me back to my former post in the gardens.” You didn’t want to give up your new apartment but you’d rather fight for lukewarm water in the communal showers than deal with him another day longer.

“That is…” Secondo paused and you closed your eyes bracing for the blow. Send me away. Do it. Send me back to the land of the undeserving and misguided. Do it now. I’d take them over you. I’d take anything over you. “Thatisunnecessary. I will see you tomorrow.”

Without another word, Secondo brushed past you and walked out your door.

There was no point in going back to his quarters. Secondo wouldn’t sleep. He hadn’t slept well in days. Tonight would be no different. There was too much on his mind.

He needed to clear his head.

So Secondo stepped out into the night.

The air was crisp and cool. Fall would be here soon and the flowers would shrivel. But for now, life still breathed in the grounds and the air still smelled sweet. Secondo followed the dirt path from the south entrance of the Abbey down to the gardens. His older brother had taken meticulous care of them since his retirement, practically spending every waking hour pruning and pampering his beloved piccoli fiori. Primo’s obsession had grown so strong that he’d even moved out of the Abbey’s suites and into a small log cabin on the edge of the ministry’s grounds so he could be closer to his work.

But Secondo hadn’t minded.

It made Primo happy and he could still find his brother for a chat whenever he needed to. If it weren’t for the early morning hour he would have sought out Primo for one of those talks now. The old man was more of a comfort than his father had ever been and his mind had been a mess for weeks. But the sun was almost up. Surely Primo in his old age was sound asleep somewhere. So Secondo chose to stroll the grounds alone and linger in the messiness of his mind.

He wandered through rows of vibrant roses and multicolored hydrangeas, passing various fruit trees and flowering cherry blossoms until he reached something he had not seen before. Underneath a centuries-old weeping willow, Primo had planted something new. In tightly packed rows narrow plots of spectacular white and pink flowers bloomed amongst leathery deep green shrubs. It was beautiful. The shrubbery looked like rhododendrons, but the flowers… Secondo had never seen anything like it. They resembled the cooper bells that hung in the Abbey’s highest towers.

He needed to smell them.

Secondo crouched down on the dirt path and reached for their pretty petals.

“Careful fratello.” Secondo quickly dropped his hand. “She is not so friendly this one.”

Clad in a red robe, Primo emerged from the dark path. His hands were clasped behind his back and he eyed his younger brother with a loving smile.

“Shouldn't you be asleep fratello?” Secondo asked, pushing off the ground with a groan that denoted his age and stood to his full height. “The sun will be up soon.”

“Ah, I was going to ask you the same,” Primo’s smile widened, strolling over to stand next to Secondo. “Do you like the fiori? They are beautiful, no?”

“Si. They are,” Secondo answered truthfully. “New additions?”

“Not entirely fratellino. Many moons ago these flowers used to surround our little Abbey. If you would indulge un vecchio uomo I would like to tell you their story.”

Secondo nodded, “Of course, Primo.”

The elder Emeritus led his younger brother to a stone bench under the willow tree. They sat down together. Secondo looked over the rows of flowers as his brother began to tell his story.

“Before you and I, walked these grounds there was a beautiful sibling who cared for the fiori and impianti. She came to the church with an extensive knowledge of botany and quickly thrived here. From the things she grew, she established the first apothecary in the ministry. She helped many siblings. She was happy and content. Eventually, she fell in love with a brother and he with her. But one day when the sister walked these grounds she witnessed a betrayal. Her mate with another. Her heart was broken. But the sister would not let this indignity stand. She introduced a colony of bees to the garden and let them feed on the nectar of these very beautiful fiori.” Primo’s gloved hand pointed to the rows of pink and white bell flowers in front of them.

“And then the ever-patient sister waited. She waited and pretended everything with her lover was bene, while in the night he continued to be with another. But after a time she returned to the garden and to her bees. She collected their honey knowing their nectar had been poisoned by these beautiful fiori. One evening the sister made her lover a pot of tea and added a spoonful of her wicked honey. As he drank the brother’s lips began to burn. Pain flamed his mouth and throat. He withered and convulsed in pain for hours. The legend diverges here. Some say the brother died. While others claim he recovered but fled the ministry in fear of his beloved’s vengeful wrath. In both versions of the tale these flowers were ripped from our grounds.”

Secondo sat quietly trying to make sense of his brother’s story. Ever since he could remember his elder brother had used longwinded tales to teach him lessons of the world or of the church. But tonight for the life of him, he could not figure out what Primo was to say. What did these poisonous flowers have to do with anything?

He was too tired. A puzzle was the last thing he wanted. He couldn’t hide his annoyance.

“Why are you telling me this brother?” Secondo asked exasperatedly. “You know I don’t care about these plants the way you do.”

“Ahh,” Primo hummed. “That may be true but tastes change fratellino. Things we once thought were insignificant can become valuable to us, no?”

“Primo I don’t under-”

“It’s nice to have beautiful things around, even if we cannot touch, si? Even if we cannot taste?”

Secondo raised an eyebrow. “What have you seen fratello?”

“It should not matter what I’ve seen. You must see for yourself.”

Secondo angered. Standing quickly he spun and stared down at his brother. “How quickly you forget what it is like Primo!” he shouted. “I need guidance. I don’t need this. I don’t know why I bother when you only speak in riddles.”

Secondo turned his back and stormed away from Primo, but before he got lost amongst the roses he heard his brother's voice.

“He has not forgotten you nor have I. Patience fratellino. Plans are already in motion. You will not be denied.”

(Follow along on AO3 here)

(Part 3) (Back to Part 1)

#secondo x reader #papa secondo #daddy secondo #secondo #secondo emeritus #ghost secondo #ghost #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost the band #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus ii fanfiction #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus ii x female reader #papa emeritus secondo

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osiiiris · 1 year ago

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Under the Ghouls masks - Headcanon

I tend not to associate in any way the Ghouls to the real musicians who portraits them, and was it for me they would have stayed nameless, but as it is now official for some of them to have names, I have adapted to it. On the Ghouls, yes, I am a purist, both in arts and writings. I think that doing this leaves me countless open doors to imagination, as at the beginning they were meant to be so mysterious.

My ghouls have two main representations, one of those is that when you lift the mask, what you find is yourself.

Quoting my most recent fic, South of Heaven:

‘Terzo had barely prepared them to what a Ghoul looks like without the mask, just mentioning it would have been something unexpected , but the moment they saw, they understood immediately why it was forbidden to them to unmask publicly on Earth in that form.

When the Ghoul removed the metal mask, what they saw was something that took a bit for their brain to register.

It was their face.

The Ghoul had their appearance, only darkened and sharpened - feminized or masculine depending on the ghoul gender, they learned with experience - eyes as black as the night, not a single emotion recognizable in that pitch black. The only demons they had seen before were on Earth, incarnated in regular human bodies, unrecognizable by other humans if not for their actions. That form was something to be seen only in places once forbidden to them.

“Terzo…” they had called, to make sure what they were looking at was what they were thinking. “What do you see?”

Terzo grabbed their waist from behind, his chin resting on their shoulder. “I see myself.” And, in his vision, the Ghoul's image reflected his face, looking at him. “Everybody has their own demons, even if the demon is you,” Terzo had explained later. It was an illusion, a proof of strength to look in the eyes of your own sins incarnated.

“Nobody knows you better than me,” the Ghoul had said and succeeded in giving them the best sex of their life.’

#ghost band #nameless ghoul #ghost ghouls #ghost headcanons #maskless ghouls #the band ghost fanfiction

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blingblong55 · 1 year ago

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Monstrance Clock-141 NSFW

A/N: imagine getting Ciriced by Price?? oh my days would I go feral

Based on a request:

What about nameless ghoul!Ghost whose a quintessence ghoul and the rest of 141 are ghouls too? Price is a like Copia but was raised with ghouls that’s why his ghouls listen they’re a pack

--- F!Reader, ghost band au, nameless ghoul!141, Papa emeritus!Price, photographer!reader, rock band au, smut, MDNI, 18+, blowjob so..oral!sex, Fem giving, slapping ---

A/N: Did I give them the classic, mountain, dewdrop and aether names? maybe I did…maybe I didn't…also I lied about this not being smutty…not sorry

The band Ghost is essentially one of the best rock bands to rise to fame for how good the vocals are, the act, the way the rituals(shows) exist, the ghouls and the lead singer. The perfect combination for all those who are into theatrics and rock. You happen to find yourself in the mix, being the photographer who follows along for all rituals. Tonight, performing for the best crowd, you find yourself roaming the stage as the men of the band practice the setlist for tonight. John walks in, a smirk on his lips as he knows how many women will be dying to get Ciriced by him. The ghouls walk on stage, maskless and already fucking around with the equipment.

"Oh hello, bonnie," Soap goes for the immediate hug and kiss on the cheek combo. Trying to win a spot as the favourite. Gaz and Ghost, how ironic, smoking at the edge of the stage. "Right boys, let's start by this," Price begins his meeting, guiding them and letting them know that tonight, they better bring their best behaviour, which in their case is being horny on stage and teasing all those in attendance. Dewdrop Ghoul, being Soap was instructed to make his sexual dance moves for when Mummy Dust comes on. Gaz, being named by fans as Rain Ghoul was instructed to later on the show come to the front of the stage and pretend to take over for Soap. Quintessence or Aether Ghoul as most fans call him was instructed to be cheeky alongside Soap. Papa Emeritus is as horny as can be when he kneels and makes fans want to indulge in his sins.

A/N: here me out, Farah is Cirrus, Alex is Swiss, and because here I like to fuck around with canons, König is Mountain and for shits and giggles, Kate is Cumulus…

"R/N, make sure to also record and take pictures of Gaz for the girls and boys," Price winks and walks off stage, getting ready for his Papa suit to be put on. Ghost walks to you, his arm draped over your shoulder as he and the other men look at the empty stadium. "We made it big time, no?" Soap asks and all of you nod. After some talk, the men begin to practice the set list, tuning their instruments and perfection notes for later tonight.

The religious groups outside, calling them and you Satanists only fed the fans that awaited the show. "C'mon, little ghoul, let's go get ready," Gaz takes your hand and walks off stage with you. "This man is trying to steal her from us?" Soap asks to which Ghost shakes his head. "Can't blame him for trying, although I know I'm her pick."

Later in the evening, you walk the halls of the stadium, photographing the ghouls making a shit show as they got energised for the ritual. Price taking photos with young fans and then walks to you, "Ready for a little bit of rock, little one?" His hand is on your waist as he guides you down the hall. "Ghouls, c'mon," he makes sure to not say names as young fans walk by. The way the stadium filled with signs, fans dressed as Papa or the ghouls, feeding the ego of the rockstars.

As the men posed for photos, and the casual candid ones you took, you got the now iconic photo of the Ghouls, touching each other all as Aether Ghoul flipped you off. Their masks, provoke even the holiest of men or women in the crowd to sin with them tonight.

The walk to the stage is fast, all running to their positions as you hurry to the front of the stage, photographing fans, handing out guitar picks and then preparing for when the time arrives. And just as you positioned your camera, Imperium begins to play, the shadows of them through the curtains excite fans. The lights out as the ritual begins. Kaisaron next as the three Ghouls go to the front of the stage, almost leaning on each other as their guitars make a beautiful melody. They go back to their positions and Price comes out. Papa Emeritus, to the stage front, as he begins to sing, the crowd wild and calling for him. You photograph the night away.

Cirice comes on and the three dancing Ghouls find a girl or man to mess with. The way they reached for them, how the fans went wild and before the man or woman could touch them, they would back away and continue playing. Papa, Ciriced the lucky girl that night, the same girl who had a guitar pick thrown to her cleavage. You smile as you watch the men get glorified like clothed porn stars. The music was sung between Papa and the fans, an experience most will never forget.

'He is' begins to play, some people sing to it, and some listen and adore it. You watch as the Ghouls become more calm. The lights are dark as they only shine on Price. Some became emotional, others whistled and cheered. Once finished, Price begins his speech. "New York, we will play a very heavy song next, do you want to hear it?" The crowd cheers. Soap chuckles as women make obscene gestures to him and he of course feeds them with his gestures. Once 'Mummy Dust' was announced to play, he and the other two men went to the front of the stage, each holding the gaze of the wave of people.

"Join us now, in Mummy Dust," Price said and began to excite the crowd. The three men grind on the other as they begin to play. Once separated, the men grind their hips to their guitars, Soap sticks his tongue out as he showcases his piercing. Price with his sexual moves as he pretends to stroke his microphone and spread the 'cum' on those present. His back arches as he plays pretend on an orgasm. Towards the end of the song, Soap goes to Ghost, begins to lick his side of the neck and watches the fans as they both play their guitars and begin the new wave of horniness in the stadium.

It was towards the end of the show when 'Ritual' began to play. "We know it's getting late, so we will leave you with our last little ritual here." He moved to Gaz's side of the stage. "But you better make this count, so make noise, New York!" The music began and the Ghouls began their blasphemous dance moves. You take the opportunity and take more pictures, Ghost posing for them all and even touching himself for you. You shake your head and he shrugs.

"Come closer," he says to you, which you do and he takes a puff from his vape and blows it in your face. "Good girl," he touches himself once more and walks back to Gaz. Ritual, enticing more provocative moves from Soap. He leans on Gaz as his fingers tease his thighs and chest. Fans go wild as the men do this. As the song comes to its end, Price speaks to the fans. "New York, you have been lovely, but we aren't done yet, you know." The crowd cheers, feeding his ego. "We don't leave you with shitty endings, we believe in good endings!" He looks around. "Now, New York, if I want you to promise me that tonight, you'll go home and do one thing," He turns to you and from under his mask he smiles. His gaze back on the fans as he continues, "Give yourself and, or someone dear to you or close to you and orgasm tonight, yes?" The crowd cheers again. You chuckle. "Good, no we will do one last song now."

He walks closer to the edge of the stage, "Coincidentally, this song is about happy endings, specifically how to achieve one female happy ending." He points to you and some other female fans amongst the crowd. "Before we go, we will all sing loud and clear, you hear me. A song to celebrate the female Orgasm! In the name of Satan." He raises his arm and the crowd, specifically the women cheer. 'Monstrance clock' begins to play.

The night went well, the Ghouls all bowed at the end of the night and threw guitar picks and even caught a few closed rubber boxes and bras. You walked backstage and Gaz was the first, yet again to keep you away from the rest.

The halls filled with the crew, running as they kept the stadium ready for the next day. The rest of the Ghouls ran down the hall; some played football and others smoked as they rested their bodies. The other photographers captured images for later use, Price walking around with his cigar, posing for the cameras. Gaz walks with you, "Did you see that little hip movement I did? Well, that was for you, darling," he kisses your cheek and before you can respond, Ghost and Soap take you away. Claiming you and your little camera for the night.

A/N: okay, maybe I am horny as I write this next part but fuck off because you are a masked man's slut too and we both probably have a thing for being fucked in front of a camera…love you! <3

They take you to their dressing room and sit you down. "What will the picture be this time?" You asked as they looked at each other. "Oh, not a picture this time, love. It'll be you and our fat cocks in your mouth, so open that pretty mouth and be a good slut," Ghost commands. Soap makes you get on your knees and forces your mouth open. He spits in your mouth along with Ghost and they make you swallow it. "Good girl, R/N," Ghost slaps your face a few times and then Soap begins to record. You'd be lying if you said you didn't want this, or to have Gaz and Price included. They didn't need groupies, not when your body can take three cocks and your hand or tits can take the other one.

Their thick and heavy cocks slap your face. You stick your tongue out and let Soap's fat cock open your mouth wide open. Ghost strokes himself, and then as he grows desperate for attention, he takes your hand and forces you to stroke him. Soap spits on Ghost's dick and watches as his bandmate groans. Your eyes teary as you gag and get forced to keep Soap's cock in your tiny mouth. Whatever couldn't fit in your mouth, Ghost helped by stroking it. The camera focused on you well you took Soap's cock. Your moans are muffled as you feel Ghost pinch your hard nipples.

Soap's cock was covered in pre-cum and your drool. When he pulls out, you gasp a little and before you can breathe properly, Ghost's fat cock spreads your mouth open again. Your teary eyes looking at his. His hips grind as he pushes your head further into his cock. You gag and he groans. Soap records as you take it full, your throat abused by him, his tip too deep in your throat by now. Your cries and mewls feed him more as he grips your head and keeps you in place.

"Just like that, stay like that. Good…good girl-fuck…oh baby~" Ghost moans as he feels his cum fall all in your mouth. He slaps you when you try and pull away. "Bad fucking girl," he slaps you again and again until you stop fighting. Soap laughs as you keep stroking his cock, the way you became so submissive to them, only making him get hornier and ready for the next show where he will tease you more than ever.

Once Ghost pulls out, he gives you a kiss and cleans his cock on your face. Price and Gaz open the door and smirk, "Hm, well if it isn't our little slut." One nod from him and Ghost and Soap leaves the room, the camera left in the corner as Price cleans your face. "Get on your knees, doll," he whispers. Gaz undoes your clothes and slaps your ass a few times. The night only getting started for your tight holes.

A/N: and here it is my horny children…now I must go and write angst...goodnight. Also, I kinda want to do more m!reader smuts so please pookies, give me ideas

tags: @urmajestyzel @kateluni @kit-kats06 @sp4c3k1ngjup1t3r @unicorngirly1 @scarletdfox @literallylovered @hades-aldrenn @aethelwyneleigh27 @spiderlilytengu @ghostslillady @agentkeegan @undercover-smutlover @driedsage @liyanahelena

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iamthecomet · 11 months ago

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Dear Comet, if you are still accepting prompts - Please - thrusts into your hands my fav rarepair - Cowbell/Aeon #20.

Ok, so like, I have barely written Cowbell, so I was worried about doing him justice, but the second I put these two together it all just...happened. I get it. They are just SO good together. YOU ARE SO RIGHT. Here's 700+ words of Aeon being so sweet to Cowbell (AS HE DESERVES).

Aeon spent his first few months topside unsure of Cowbell. Watching the older ghoul from afar. Fascinated by his outright refusal to even pretend to be human. Movements too fast, too sudden. They’ve gotten to know each other slowly. Aeon slipping into his orbit when he can. Walking next to him on their way to the gardens. Sitting next to each other at Mass.

Aeon gathers bits and pieces. Finds Cowbell strangely secretive. Speaking in a rasping whisper most of the time. But Aeon loves his stories. Stories of his time on the road. Of his small moments on stage. Of the pit. Aeon hangs on every gravely word as Cowbell recounts.

Aeon finds him easier to talk to than some of the other ghouls. The band ghouls especially. He knows he’s one of them now but that still doesn’t feel right. They feel like they’re on a pedestal above everyone else whether they want to be or not, and Aeon doesn’t know how to climb up to stand next to them–he doesn’t know if he wants to.

“You never take your mask off,” Aeon observes, one warm spring day. They’re sitting in the center of Primo’s hedge maze. The fountain in the middle of the clearing bubbling away. The air smelling like lilacs and fresh tilled dirt. Cowbell sighs, slides his finger over the sharp jaw of his mask.

He has an older one–there are quite a few ghouls around who still wear them. Mist, Omega, most of the working ghouls who were summoned during that era. Aeon knows Dew has one–has seen it on his bookshelf. He suspects Dew puts his old uniform on sometimes in an attempt to disappear.

“Not a pretty sight, kid,” Cowbell huffs out, dropping his hand to lean back on it. To tilt his head up toward the sun like he can feel it on his face through all that metal.

“I showed you mine,” Aeon offers, pointing to his own maskless face, his damaged left eye and the scars surrounding it. Cowbell turns his head to look at him. Aeon can see his eyes narrowing behind the mask, thought, maybe. Or he’s about to tell Aeon he doesn’t know what he’s talking about–that he can’t possibly understand.

Instead, Cowbell sits up, he sighs, and takes his mask in both hands, lifts it. He settles it down on the grass between his knees and takes his time before he looks over at Aeon. It gives Aeon time to study his profile. The wild dark hair. A jawline, sharp like the one on the mask. Crooked noise, pale gray skin. One thin horn curving back over his skull, deadly sharp at the point. The other broken off near the base, rough and jagged.

When Cowbell turns, Aeon gasps. He’s gorgeous. Scarred yes, but most ghouls are somewhere. His face made of sharp angles, cut glass. Eyes, lined with dark make-up, looking almost owlish, one glittering violet, the other vibrant amber.

Aeon can’t help but touch him. Can’t stop himself from reaching out and cupping that razor sharp jaw in his palm to see if it will hurt him. But instead, what he gets is Cowbell leaning into that touch. Eyes fluttering closed, breath heaving out in a sigh.

Aeon isn’t stupid. He knows what privilege he’s been given. Knows that Cowbell doesn’t let anyone touch him like this, see him like this. That he has been given a gift that almost no one else here has–to really see this ghoul for who he is.

Aeon inches closer. Caresses Cowbell’s scarred cheek. Holds him. Studies him. He may never get this chance again–he wants to remember this. To commit every angle, every line, every scar to memory so he never forgets.

“So pretty,” Aeon mumbles and Cowbell scoffs. Eyes cracking open.

“Liar.”

Aeon shakes his head. “Shut up and let me look at you.”

Cowbell does, eyes still slitted open, watching Aeon’s face intently.

“Can I?” Aeon asks–doesn’t really know what he’s asking for until Cowbell nods and he does it. Leaning in to press gentle lips over the scar that bisects a dark eyebrow. And then another over a silverly line cutting across the bridge of his noses. And then his lips are grazing over the scars on Cowbell’s cheek.

The older ghoul chuckles. “What are you going to do, kiss them all?”

“Maybe.” Aeon mutters, lips dragging over Cowbell’s temple.

“We’ll be here all day.”

Aeon hums, unbothered not pulling away. Tasting salt and metal on Cowbell’s skin. “Good.”

#comet writes #moth #cowbell ghoul #aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #kiss game #fic game

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