Kinktober Day 6 — Frottage, Dubcon
Cardinal Copia x gn!reader
Notes: I decided to do Kinktober! I am using the official Kinktober 2023 prompt list. I plan to do at least 4 more after this one (look out on the 21st, I’m really excited for that one). These deadlines are doing wonders for me lol. This is a pretty short one, a bit of a warm-up.
Tags: smut (MDNI, 18+), frottage, dubcon (I think it's pretty mild but still there), somnophilia (kinda, in a way), established relationship
Word count: ~700
ao3
It has been such a long week. You barely got any sleep and you want to take a nap so badly. But you’re supposed to meet up with Copia soon, so you consider your options. You think you’re close enough by now that he won’t be offended if he comes to find you sleeping in your bed. You’re sure he’ll understand. Yes, he definitely will. You lie down and wrap yourself up to your nose, beginning to drift off immediately.
“Hello!” you hear the Cardinal yell at the entrance to your quarters. “Are you there, amore?”
You groan, turning in your bed.
“Oh! I thought we were going to lunch together! M-mi dispiace!”
“Hmm, come. Nap,” you mumble, half asleep.
“I- I’m sorry?”
“Come nap with me, Copia,” you say, trying your best to make the words sound clear.
“Ehh, okay…” he agrees apprehensively, unsure of how to respond to such a sudden change of plans.
“Pillow’s in the drawer.”
You can hear the drawer under the bed open and close and you lift up the duvet behind you, eyes still closed and body turned away from him. Then you can feel the mattress shift and a body presses against you, a leg slots between yours and a hand rests on your waist. You snuggle into the warmth, pushing back and tangle your fingers with his.
Just as you get comfortable, you can feel him rocking against your hips and his breath on your neck speeding up slightly.
“Mm, we were supposed to sleep,” you whine.
“I’m so sorry, tesoro. You just- you smell and feel so good.”
“Ugh, fine. Do whatever you want. But let me sleep.”
He replies with a timid “mhm” and positions himself next to you so that he is flush with your body. His hand is roaming over your waist, hip and belly, his crotch gradually pressing into you more insistently. You can feel his nose poking your scalp, occasionally inhaling deeply, getting drunk on your scent.
You aren’t quite able to fall asleep with him rubbing against you and his stifled groans and pants in your ear, but you drift into a trance-like state where it feels almost impossible to speak or move even though you can still very much experience what is happening. You can feel his arousal infecting you, silently hoping for him to touch you where you need him while he uses your body for his own pleasure.
He slots his clothed cock between your asscheeks, every thrust a little stronger but still careful. As his ruts become more vigorous, he slides his hand between your legs, maybe to make you feel good, maybe to stabilize himself. Either way, the pressure and slight movement are enough to turn your mild arousal into a fervent need.
His speed keeps increasing and all of his inhibitions are gone as he humps you with abandon. The whimpers and gasps he makes into your neck reverberate through your body and cause your points of contact to feel like they're on fire. He is completely lost in your body, his hand on your crotch rubbing intently but sloppily. In your mind, you are greatly affected, but the only way you show it on the outside is with the quickening of your sleepy breath.
He is so close now, moans completely unrestrained and bucks wild and deep. He stiffens up against you with a wail while doing his best to keep stimulating you but, frankly, failing. The first move you make since he started is to press on his hand and keep it still as you rock your hips to help him through his orgasm. You can feel your lower back getting damp, his cum soaking through his red suit pants and surely leaving a huge stain.
"Well, I'm definitely not getting any sleep now," you say while turning around to face him.
"I'm so, so sorry for being so selfish, amore. I just c- couldn't help it with-"
"Oh, don't you worry. I'm sure we can figure out a way for you to give back.”
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Problem: A signature of your work is Some Kind of Redhead but your horror novella doesn't have any redheaded characters.
Solution: ...😬
The bodies. I shrink back from the black mass, groping for the wall. I find it, my stomach turning as my fingers slide over not smooth rock but lumpy sinew. More bones set in place somehow. I lift the torch along the wall and follow the thick path of blood to a grotesque pile of meat wedged up against the wall. That's what it is, a pile of meat; most parts don’t hold their shape anymore. I think he pulled the bones out. Great gaping wounds where he tore into the flesh. But somehow, still not rotting. It could be a day or two old at most, but I recognise the rosy glint on what used to be a hairy forearm. Gone dragged him in weeks ago. I only remember because he was a redhead.
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I bet it drove Lalo nuts that his beta cuck lawyer got a sexy, smart, loyal wife, whereas all he got was a knife in the back. He didn't lose sleep over it because he doesn't sleep, but I bet he spent a lot of his good-idea-having time ruminating over how this could possibly be, when he's such a stud. It just doesn't make any sense!
Maybe the real reason he decided seduce Margarthe was to prove to himself that he's still got It
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