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her-satanic-wiles · 6 months

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October 28th

Free Use, Papa Emeritus IV x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 3.3k.

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

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

🔞 MDNI 🔞

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

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

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

“I can’t, I-”

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

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

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

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

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

Aurora, “And that you’re safe!”

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

You, “Where is he now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Papa, I-”

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

“No, Papa.”

“Did anyone frighten you?”

“No, Papa.”

“Mentally and emotionally, are you okay?”

“Mostly, Papa.”

“Percentage, schricchio.”

“Ninety, Papa.”

“Then where the fuck did you go?”

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

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

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

“Don’t ‘but’ me, schricchio!”

“I tried calling you but-”

“Back talk? Really?”

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

“Barricade, now.”

“What?”

“Barricade.”

“But, Papa, I-”

“Do not make me ask you again.”

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

“Um, Papa?”

“Eh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm.”

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

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

“P-Papa, I’m close!”

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

“Yes, Papa. Please!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, Papa. Please!”

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

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

“Try again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cazzo!”

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

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

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

“I told you you wouldn’t win.”

“Vaffanculo!” You shouted, storming away.

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

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

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hyenasheep · 1 year

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Ghostober

Day 29 - Ghouls

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iamthecomet · 6 months

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Kinktober - Day 24 - Forced Fem

Watersports later. But FIRST: 900ish words of Aeon/Rain forced fem. Aeon makes such a pretty girl.

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Rain purrs. He nuzzles his face into the side of Aeon’s neck. Hands running down Aeon’s sides and the curve in his waist to rest at his hips over the silky fabric of the slip dress.

Rain can’t stop staring. Looking over Aeon’s form in the mirror in front of him as he pets at Aeon’s hips. Thumbs dragging over prominent hip bones, visible through the dress. It’s pale blue, the same color as Cumulus’ eyes apparently–at least that’s what Aeon said when he showed up in it. It’s Aurora’s, given with permission not to stain it.

Rain is definitely going to owe Aurora a dress. When Aurora wears it, it sits at mid thigh–on Aeon it’s a little higher. Helped along by the way his cock tents the fabric in front. Rain doesn’t think he’s wearing underwear, but he doesn’t know for sure. Has been trying to puzzle it out for the last fifteen minutes.

Craning his neck to try to see when Aeon was knelt in front of him, back the mirror, dress riding up over the curve of his ass. Focused entirely on the small slivers of skin he could see as Aeon sucked on the head of his cock. Eyes drawn to the reflection of Aeon’s feet resting unders his ass. Clad in dainty white socks.

He’d almost cum like that–embarrassingly fast. The wet heat of Aeon’s mouth paired with the visual almost ruined him. Rain still not sure he’s going to last long enough to get inside Aeon. Rain’s pressed tight against Aeon’s back. Rutting his leaking cock against the small of Aeon’s back. Smearing pre-cum over the pretty fabric. Aurora will kill him. Right now, he doesn’t care. Can’t. He’s too focused on the way the silk drapes over Aeon’s skin. The matching choker fastened tight around his neck. The little heart charm dangling from it. Rain itches to say it again. Pretty. It’s the only thing he can think

The eyeshadow matches too. Powder blue. Rain wasn’t sure what to expect when Aurora promised she’d get Aeon ready for him–it wasn’t this. Pale pink lipstick, soft blush high on Aeon’s sharp cheekbones. The dark eyeliner makes him look doe-eyed. Innocent. Rain wants to wreck him. To dig his teeth into every soft piece of him.

Rain clenches his fists in the fabric at Aeon’s hips, dragging the skirt further up his skinny legs. Aeon trembles in his grip. Head lolling back against Rain’s shoulder.

“Say it again,” Aeon whispers.

“What? That you’re pretty?”

Aeon shakes his head. “No–the other–call me–fuck.”

Aeon’s cheeks flush violet beneath the blush. Rain watches him in the mirror, watches his throat work as he tries to figure out how to ask. Rain could wait him out. Force him to say it. That’s always fun. Watching his partner crumble as they ask for what they really want.

“What? A girl? You want me to call you my good girl?”

Aeon makes a noise like the words hurt–but the way his cock kicks tells another story. There’s wet spot forming there too, one to match the back. Aeon nods, hard, turning his head to mouth at Rain’s neck. Sloppy. Wet.

Rain chuckles. He dips his fingers under the hem of the skirt, pulling it up, until his fingers graze over Aeon’s balls. No underwear, he was right. Aeon hisses, cock kicking as Rain slides higher. Runs his finger along the soft underside of Aeon’s cock. Tracing a vein.

“Missing something?”

Aeon shudders. Eyes searching for Rain’s in the mirror. Rain’s stomach twists as momentary panic flits over Aeon’s face. Worry. Brow furrowing as he tries to figure out what he forgot–what he missed in Rain’s instructions.

“Good girls don’t usually forget their panties.”

The noise Aeon makes sounds like it’s been forced from him. Dug up from somewhere deep in his gut. Startled, pained. Rain turns his head to hide his grin in Aeon’s hair.

“I–thought–fuck. I thought you’d like it if I didn’t–”

“I do,” Rain says, mouth dragging over one of Aeon’s horns. “But still. If you want to be a good girl, you have to act like one.”

“Rainy,” Aeon’s hips twitch. Cock kicking under Rain’s fingers as Aeon tries to roll his hips against what little friction Rain is giving him. The movement rocks Aeon’s ass back against Rain’s cock. It spits more precum onto the dress. “Rainy I can be good. I am good.”

“A good what?”

Aeon swallows but doesn’t answer right away. Eyes wild, darting over Rain’s face as he tries to force himself to say it. He opens his mouth and nothing happens.

Rain pulls one hand away from Aeon’s hip, uses it to grab him by the jaw. To pull him away, hold him so Rain can look at him for real. The angle probably hurts Aeon’s neck, Rain’s fingers biting into his cheeks definitely do. But he doesn’t react to the pain. He just blinks up at Rain with his mismatched eyes–already glassy. Lips swollen from his time spent swallowing Rain’s dick.

“Say it,” Rain barks.

Aeon fights with hismelf for another breath but when it finally comes, it pours of out him in a rush. “Girl,” he spits, “I am a good girl. Please, Rain. Please I promise I am I–”

Rain shushes him. He leans down to press his lips to Aeon’s forehead, too softly to be anything but a threat.

“Prove it.”

#comet writes #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #ghostober #aeon ghoul #rain ghoul #aeon/rain #phantom ghoul #phantom/rain #rain/aeon #rain/phantom #ghost fic #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #ghost band fic #ghost band fanfic #ghost band fanfiction

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ghoulette-lynn · 2 years

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THIS IS THE DAY 6 AJAJAJ nevermind

#thebandghost #nameless ghouls #aetherghoul #cirrus ghoulette #ghostober

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im-resident · 2 years

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Ghostober Day 20. RATS! AKA, Me posting all the memes i've made for my Ghost server.

#ghostober #the band ghost #ghost the band #nameless ghouls #ghost fanart #aether ghoul #cardinal copia #ghost #fanart #art #artstuff #artists on tumblr

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noahl-art · 7 months

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Ghostober / Day 11 - Marking/Biting

Swiss has big chompers, Dew has very appetising tits... Things ensue 💦

Full version HERE

(This one is really just self-indulging and lazy as I had the shittiest day ever and dysphoria hit at his highest🙃)

#trans dewdrop #trans swiss #dewdrop ghoul #swissdew #swiss ghoul #swiss army ghoul #t4t #nsft #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band fanart #ghostober #kinktober #sketch #illustration #fanart #my art

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multi-fandom-of-madness · 7 months

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Essential Oil

Flufftober Day 2: Napping

Pairings: Mountain X GN!Reader

Type: Fluff

Summary: It’s literally just napping with Mountain

Warnings: None

Word Count: 524

Notes: Read here on ao3. Find my flufftober prompt list here. @ the anon who requested the Phantom X Reader for this prompt, trust that it will be written, just as a separate story. I’ve gotten a lot of Phantom X Reader prompts, so I’m trying to make sure I have them dispersed and not repeat the pairings two days in a row. Much love ~Bat <3

After a long day of chores, you were looking forward to relaxing, preferably in your own room. It wasn’t like the chores were awful or that there were too many. Sometimes it’s just too draining to do work in that regard, especially when you’d much rather stay in bed or go out and have fun.

Yeah, you had a few days to yourself, but chores can suck, and they’re chores for a reason. They could be fun, but they weren’t.

It also doesn’t help that it stormed last night, keeping you up and only allowing you to get a whopping two hours of sleep. All you knew was that it was time for a nap.

It felt like such a long walk to your room to the point that even making it that far was draining your energy. The droll, stone halls of the Abbey made sure to keep the walk boring, other than the few interesting tapestries or paintings that occasionally lined the wall.

You tried to keep yourself entertained, thinking of what you could do for dinner, what suggestions you could give for the garden, and even just thinking about potential weekend plans. Yet nothing kept away the droop in your eyes or the way your feet dragged.

You eventually considered just laying down in the middle of the hallway for someone to find you, but luckily, there was a certain ghoul that you just loved to curl up with right around the corner.

You pushed the doors open to the ghoul’s den, ignoring those who were in the lounge, and making your way to Mountain’s room. The door creaked as you opened it and you noticed the lights off. He was facing the windows, but turned his head when he heard you come in.

His room was warm and comforting. There were plenty of plants lining shelves and window sills, which provided the room with a rich, earthy scent.

“Did I wake you?” You asked, crawling on to the ginormous bed that was filled with pillows, furs, blankets, and whatever else made its way in.

He hummed and shook his head. “No,” he yawned. “I was getting ready to nap, but hadn’t gotten there yet.”

Once you made it under the covers, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, burying his nose in your hair, smelling your shampoo, but also letting your natural scent soothe him.

“You smell good,” he muttered, eyes closed, holding you as close as he could.

You smiled, taking in his own earthy scent that also mingled with the honeysuckle body wash he uses. “You do too.”

“Yeah, but your scent is so…calming. Like my own personal lavender…thing.”

“Thing?”

“I could call you an essential oil, but you are much better than that,” he chuckled.

“Well, I’m glad I’m your personal essential oil,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips. He smiled back and hummed, pulling you impossibly closer.

“I’m gonna nap now,” he mumbled, pressing his face back into your hair.

There was no response from you, but he didn’t need it. He liked the quiet. It was comfortable. It was perfect.

#ghost #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #ghost x reader #the band ghost x reader #nameless ghouls x reader #mountain ghoul #mountain ghost #mountain #mountain x reader #mountain ghoul x reader #mountain ghost x reader #flufftober #flufftober 2023 #ghostober #ghostober 2023

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themidnightghoul · 3 months

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Take a Bite

Swiss has only one thing on his mind: sinking his teeth into a certain Earth Ghoul.

Rating: Explicit (MDNI 18+ seriously I mean it) Word Count: 1757

This was written for @hypnoneghoul because his love for SwissAlps made me want to write about them 🖤

Read on AO3 or below!

It was like the worst kind of torture, being so close to him but unable to do anything. Swiss had to watch him all night from his stage and somehow act like he wasn’t dying to sink his teeth into every inch of the Earth Ghoul that was right fucking there. Watching the way he threw everything into his drums, the way he gripped the sticks with his hands (Satanas those hands would be his downfall), the sweat pouring off of him. Mountain was perfect in every way and Swiss wanted nothing more than to take a bite out of him as soon as he could. He didn’t know what had gotten into him, why he wanted to feel his teeth sink into his flesh, but he needed it more than air and it was the only thing he could focus on right now.

All Ritual long he was stealing glances at Mountain, throwing him his thousand watt smile and tilting his head. Eventually Mountain caught on and Swiss would occasionally catch him biting at his lip, flashing a glimpse of his fangs, running his hands up and down his thighs when he had a moment to rest. Swiss felt like he was on fire, burning from the inside out. He took it out on everything except for the Ghoul he wanted between his teeth the most. When the buildup became too much, he jumped off his stage and stomped across to Dew, toying around with him during Watcher in the Sky. On his way back, he took the path that went behind Mountain’s kit and quickly snuck up to him, tickling at his waist, and then made his way back to his stage. For now, he was sated, but it wouldn’t last long.

Once the final song was finished and Mountain was able to climb down from his platform, Swiss practically pounced on the giant. He hugged him, his arms immediately wrapping around his waist and squeezing, and inhaled his scent. Even through his sweat soaked clothes, which Swiss found himself gently gnawing at as he hugged him, he could smell dirt, moss, pine trees, fresh air, all of the scents that enveloped the Earth Ghoul and made him him. It was like taking a walk through a forest every time that scent washed over Swiss and he never wanted to leave.

Through final bows, Swiss was glued to his side, and as they made their way off the stage for the final time, he refused to let go of Mountain’s hand. He dragged him away, practically sprinting back to the dressing room. The others chatted amongst themselves, pretending like they didn’t notice how Swiss’ desire was practically drowning them with how strong it was tonight. No one even jokingly made a pass at Mountain with how Swiss had been acting, content to pair off with each other and leave the two of them to themselves. Swiss changed quickly, throwing on sweatpants and a hoodie and keeping his eyes trained on Mountain the entire time. He audibly groaned watching him undress and change into his after show clothing, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited around for the rest of the pack to be ready to head to the van.

The ride to the hotel felt like it took far too long. Swiss sat next to Mountain, who was running his fingertips across the top of his head, occasionally scratching the space that would be between his horns if they weren’t all still glamoured. Everyone laughed, talked about the Ritual, but all Swiss could focus on was Mountain and how he was going to devour him as soon as their hotel room door was shut.

“Just a bit longer, Spark. You’re being so good,” he whispered, and Swiss thought he was going to die on the spot from those words alone.

Once they were in the hotel lobby and the keys had been passed out by Papa, his usual speech about behaving and not causing any issues given, the Ghouls all piled into the elevator to head to their respective floors. Swiss hadn’t let go of Mountain, burying his head in his chest and just breathing in his scent to try and keep himself calm. The elevator ride was mercifully quick and when they hit their floor and stepped out, it was Mountain’s turn to drag Swiss along as he walked toward their room for the night, the Multi-Ghoul feeling like he was high off of the scent he had been breathing in.

“Have fun you two,” Dew called out, saluting the two Ghouls as he dipped into his and Rain’s shared room.

Swiss just flung up his middle finger as he fumbled his way through unlocking the door and kicking it open, stepping inside with Mountain right behind him. The door to the hotel room was barely shut and their bags were still in hand but Swiss was already all over Mountain. He was all hands, claws, teeth, desperately grabbing and pulling at Mountain’s clothes to get them off as soon as he could.

“Need you, Mount. Please,” he begged, pleaded, swore to Lucifer himself that he would do anything just to have his Earth Ghoul now.

Mountain effortlessly picked Swiss up, making him feel small which was an unusual feeling for him, and walked over to the bed. Swiss nipped at any open skin that he could reach with Mountain just chuckling at how needy the Multi-Ghoul was.

“What is it with you tonight, Spark?” He sat down on the edge of the bed, holding Swiss in his lap as he continued to pull at his shirt, grumbling when Mountain dropped his glamour halfway through pulling it off of his head and it got caught on one of his horns. “You’re so cute when you’re grumpy, you know.” He gently pressed a kiss to the end of Swiss’ nose and watched as his glamour melted away.

“Cut it out, Mount,” he chuckled, his cheeks darkening at Mountain’s compliment. “I just…I don’t fucking know, don’t ask, just take your clothes off.”

Mountain, rolling his eyes, ran his hands up the back of Swiss’ shirt, claws dragging back down his skin. “You’re insatiable, Swiss. We have all night,” he whispered, leaning in to run his fangs along Swiss’ pulse point.

Swiss whined, a needy and pathetic noise that made Mountain smile. “Fucking hells, just let me-“ He was cut off by the feeling of Mountain sinking his teeth into his shoulder and he felt his cock kick in his sweatpants. The strangled sounds that escaped his throat only seemed to urge the Earth Ghoul on, his teeth shifting while still buried in Swiss’ skin. It took more effort than he could fathom to not immediately make a mess of himself and he had no idea how he managed to hold his shit together.

When he finally pulled away, gently licking at the puncture marks, Swiss was fuzzy headed and grinning like an idiot. “Already falling apart, are we?” Mountain chuckled and drug his teeth across the bite again which, mercifully, made Swiss come to his senses.

Swiss growled, pushing Mountain down onto the bed and holding his hands above his head. “I’ve been waiting all fucking night to get you under me, Dirt Boy. Sit. Still. Behave.” His voice was a low rumble, that of a predator finally locking on to its prey. He nosed behind Mountain’s ear, let his tongue run down the vein on his throat that he loved so much, felt his fangs dripping with anticipation. As he inhaled Mountain’s earthy scent, he felt him squirm beneath him and he growled again. “Don’t move, Petal. Let me have this. You have no idea how much I need this.”

Mountain behaves, stays still, keeps his arms where Swiss had them held down so that his own hands are free to drift up and down his chest, his waist, his hips, digging his fingertips in hard enough to leave bruises that he’ll see for days. When Swiss finally had his fill, scenting him enough to where no one will be able to mistake who marked up the Earth Ghoul, he sat back and looked down at him for a moment. He wasn’t prepared for Mountain to tilt his head ever so slightly and grin at him and it made his breath catch. “Go on, Spark,” he whispered and turned his head fully to the side, baring his throat to the Multi-Ghoul.

Any resolve that Swiss had pretended he still held vanished and he immediately bared his fangs and latched on to Mountain’s throat. He punctured the skin effortlessly, like it was nothing more than paper, and wiggled his jaw as he tried to get the best hold. Mountain stayed as still as he could but the sounds he let out underneath Swiss only served to encourage the Multi-Ghoul to bite harder, deeper, ensuring his mark would be permanent. Swiss moved his hands everywhere on Mountain that he could get ahold of, less with the desire to leave bruises and more with a need to just feelhim.

Seconds, minutes, neither Ghoul could tell how long had passed before Swiss removed his teeth from Mountain’s neck, lapping the blood that flowed from the deep puncture marks. He kissed the dark and swollen skin around the bite gently, smirking when Mountain would hiss from the pain.

“You look so pretty with my teeth marks on you, Petal,” Swiss whispered against his skin as he continued to kiss, moving from the bite to the front of his neck, down and across his chest. He left less intrusive bite marks, these more intended to be playful, akin to decorations. Moving down from his chest to his stomach, his hips, nipping and marking as he moved. He would alter between leaving teeth marks in the skin to sucking pretty bruises, kissing each mark he made. Sitting back on Mountain’s legs, he admired his work.

Mountain’s eyes were glazed over, fluttering open and closed occasionally. His beautiful grey skin was covered in Swiss’ marks and he looked like a beautiful piece of art. Swiss took his fingertips and moved them along Mountain’s skin. As gentle as he was, Mountain let out soft whimpers each time he made contact with a mark, his hips rolling up against Swiss’ body as he desperately searched for any sort of contact.

“Oh Mount, who’s falling apart now?” Swiss chuckled as he bent back over, fangs itching to sink back into skin.

#midnight writes #for hypnone 💚#swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swiss alps #the band ghost fic #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #ghostober #spicy tag

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inkymaw · 2 years

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🦇 #Ghostober Day 4: Prophecy 🐐 Antichrist Copia?? Antichrist Copia. ⛧ [twitt] ⛧[insta] ⛧

#my art #ghostober #ghostober 2022 #papa emeritus iv #papa iv #papa emeritus 4 #papa 4 #papa emeritus #ghost #the band ghost #ghost the band #ghost bc #copia #popia #ghost fanart #ghost band fanart #cardi c #cardinal copia

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divine-misfortune · 7 months

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Kinktober, day 6. Creampies

Pairing: Omega/Alpha

Words: 1,928

Contains: Rough sex, power switch, semi-hate fucking (?), consent leans dubious, face slapping, spit as lube, anal sex, bottom!Alpha

Summary: Alpha can't help but poke at all of Omega’s buttons. He wants a reaction, he just didn't expect this kind of reaction.

Read on Ao3

The bed creaked from the sheer force of Omega’s weight crashing into it. He was surprised the frame only yelped in protest and didn’t give under him, even more so when Alpha joined him in order to force him flat against the mattress again. The fire ghoul’s hand was searing against the base of his throat, claws like needles in his skin. He began to growl but Alpha sneered at the sound, daring to take his neck properly in his hand. A harsh squeeze killed the noise in an instant.

Alpha was smiling broadly, an obvious and intentional display of teeth when he chose to go still.

“You gonna fucking behave now?” He spat, testing the weight of his palm against his adams apple. Omega swallowed beneath it and felt his throat click.

“Bite me.” Omega hissed between his grit teeth.

“What happened to those manners big boy? Know that the clergy trained their lapdog better than this.”

The words burrow deeper than Omega dares to let show, he knew better. Alpha was all about low blows, especially when it as just the two of them. He got off on pissing Omega off. Provoking him was like foreplay, and Alpha had been prodding the beast all fucking day. Dig after dig, outright giddy in himself when the quintessence ghoul all but stormed out of rehearsal.

And now he perches above him with a confidence undeserved. Like he believes he belongs there. Like he thinks he’s won something. Like he believes he’s tamed a black hole.

Annoyance doesn’t begin to describe it. Nearer to flat out anger if Omega spared the time to consider the burn of a dying star in his head, pulsing and bright. He thinks he might see white for a minute, or red. Something takes hold of him. Composure snapping like a frayed wire that’s snapped back to catch Alpha in the midst of his stupidity.

Alpha hits the floor with all the grace of a bag of bricks and Omega grimaced as he shook his hand out, pins and needles spreading along the back. His knuckles would surely ache given time, but that was a concern for later. Omega slipped off the bed to stand over him, watching him clumsily get to his knees as he held the side of his face. The fire ghoul groans and works his jaw, a distinct pop there as it shifts.

“You hit like a fucking girl.” He opened his mouth and Omega smelled blood, wondering if it was his tongue or cheek that had caught the point of his fangs. “I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Omega scoffed and forced him back to the hardwood, foot placed square between his shoulder blades to keep him pinned. “You’re not in the position to do much of anything, spitfire."

He lowered himself to straddle the back of his legs with a faintly amused sound.

Unceremoniously, Omega tugged at his pants with enough force a seam audibly tore and Alpha went entirely rigid before throwing a wide orange eyed stare at him over his shoulder. He hushed him, though he very well could have just been hissing at him, and spread his cheeks. The little ring of muscle between them went tense with the rest of him. Nails scratched against the wood when he spat on it, warm to most, cold to Alpha.

“It’s fucking shy.”

He circled his rim slowly with the pad of his thumb. Spreading his spit as he teased with the slightest bit of pressure, it was enough to have Alpha breathing unsteadily. Anticiption or nerves, he couldn’t be sure. Whatever it was did a fair job of strokng his ego. Omega didn’t waste his breath warning him before he pushed his thumb inside, knowing he’d get the same reaction either way.

A choked out gasp as his muscles instintively drew tighter, only pulling him deeper. Alpha’s tail wound around his wrist first then the lenth of his arm. He was tight, tighter than Omega remembered him being - not that they did this often, Alpha hardly ever allowed himself to be in a position like this. He’d rather choke to death on his pride.

“Relax,” Omega instructed. The first word he’d uttered without any bite behind, one could almost call it gentle. As close to gentle as the two of them could get. “It’s gonna fucking hurt if you don’t.”

“Easier said than done, prick.”

Eyes rolling, Omega slid under his shirt. The tips of his fingers traced the bow of his back down to the base of his tail as the gentle lull of magic settled into his bones. Alpha’s shoulders untensed first and with a little more coaxing so did the rest of him. It was enough to allow him to keep him semi open. Enough that Omega could actually spit inside of him and trade out his thumb for his middle finger, quickly joined by his index.

Alpha shifted once again. One more attempt to get out from underneath him, but his legs had gone weak from a dangerous mix of quintssence and Omega’s thick fingers. All he succeeded in was raising his hips off the floor. His head dropped into the crook of his arm with a somewhat labored string of curses.

“I’m starting to think you like this, being treated a little rough, manhandled.”

As if to prove his point he tugged at the base of his tail, crooking his fingers up to pet along his walls. He whimpered, actually whimpered, and the sound went straight to Omega’s dick. It sounded sinfully pathetic, his deep voice pitching upwards into something uncharacteristically feminine. He throbbed against the confines of his pants, aching against the zipper.

He fumbled single handedly with his belt, keeping the other busy scissoring the fire ghoul open. Alpha couldn’t keep on with his bitching if he was too busy trying not to sound like a bitch.

“Fu…Fuck you,” Alpha managed through grit teeth.

“Aw, is that your way of begging? You’re not very good at it, you sound like a girl.”

He withdrew his fingers and wiped them on Alpha’s inner thigh before roughly tugging his hips up. Forced him to his knees without the dignity of lifting his head from the floor, like an animal.

“You lost, wildfire.” He teased the tip of his cock against his hole, grinning as Alpha’s tail coils tighter around his bicep “Lost pretty bad too, you think my rings are gonna leave a bruise on your face?”

Alpha nearly wailed when he pressed the head into him, the sound of claws scraping wood met his ears again. He groaned, held onto the fire ghoul's hips tighter and popped the flare of the tip back out only to abruptly push it back in. His body clamped down around him in a way that sat somewhere between torturous and heavenly. Not yet slick enough for him to push in seamlessly his inner walls embraced every inch with a mind numbing heat.

Sunk halfway down his shaft, Alpha shook. His thighs trembled and his breaths came to him in ragged gasps. Omega was sure his eyes had rolled back and stayed there.

"Hurts, huh baby?"

A warbled thick was all the fire ghoul managed before Omega pulled his hips the rest of the way down. This time, he full on sobbed, a few sparks sputtering off uselessly between his horns.

"Belial, just milking my cock aren't you?" His nails dug in as he pulled out only to thrust in just as hard, moan begrudgingly punched out of the other ghoul's lungs. "Acting like you're too fucking good for this," again. "Too good to take it," and again. "You only fight back like this because you can't bear to admit you love being my fucktoy," and again for good measure, each time forcing such humiliating sounds from him.

Alpha covered his mouth after the fourth thrust, claws digging into his cheek, sharp inhales through his nose. Omega took a fistful of his hair and tugged, his bark arching beautifully.

"Let me hear it, let me hear how fucking pathetic you are."

"Meg-"

"Feel you getting wet, fuck, you love being used don't you?"

"Slow down-"

"Why? You didn't seem too keen on slowing down when things were reversed." He twisted his fingers further into his fine pale hair, "when I'm done with you, nothings gonna satisfy you like my cock does. Losing feels so good, doesn't it?"

Instead of further complaint, Alpha made this low strangled sound of surprise. His hips twitched forward in a few erratic, jerky movements as his body seemed to repeatedly bear down in a fashion that left Omega's head spinning.

Alpha fought not to go entirely boneless under him, Omega could feel his body fighting exhaustion like he was trying to keep a shred of dignity. A laughable thought, as if he had any left. Mounted and fucked, cumming untouched after being treated a little rough, Alpha for some reason still tried.

"Oh Satanas-" Any pace he'd set was forgotten in favor of chasing a reckless pleasure, "it's like your body's begging me to fill you up."

The sound of their bodies meeting had become slick and obscene in a way that only fueled him. Alpha was panting, writhing, mewling from the overstimulation as the other ghoul pounded into him relentlessly. So relentlessly his knees threatened to give.

"Anyone ever filled you up before? No, course they haven't, too - ah - stubborn to let anyone. Gonna be the first, gonna be so good you won’t be able to get enough.”

Every little movement, every drag against those velvety walls, twisted something up in his belly. Heat, electricity, tension. He abandoned composure and draped himself over the poor fucked out fire ghoul, breathing in the smell of him like it alone could tip him over the edge. Burning cherrywood and tobacco twisted so sickly sweet by arousal he could almost taste it. He wanted to taste it, to lick the sweat from his overheated skin.

It crashed into him quickly, violently. The edges of his vision went dark and fuzzy with a final thrust, balls finally drawing tight. Omega buried himself just the slightest bit deeper and slowly rolled his hips in time with the waves of pleasure washing over him. He groaned against Alpha’s shoulder as he shuddered at the sensation of him spilling hot and thick at the deepest part of him. The sound he made could only be described as a gurgle, nonsensical sounds attempting to be words.

“That’s it…” He sighed shakily and forced himself upright. His entire body felt heavy. Certainly wasn’t as young as he used to be.

Pulling out of him was a purposefully slow process. Alpha’s body keened into the motion and promptly sagged the second Omega popped out of him. His hole gaped as a thick white glob dribbled out of him, dripping all the way down to his cock - half chubbed and an angry red at the tip, just hanging between his legs untouched. Omega pulled at his cheeks again, laughing breathlessly when more of his cum trickled past his rim.

He dragged his dick along the cleft of his ass, smearing the mess across his skin. Alpha jolted when he tapped the head of his cock back at his rim, making another garbled sound in confusion.

“Told you,” Omega grit his teeth. Sinking back into the hot clutch of his body, watching as his own load is forced out of his abused hole. “We’re not done yet, gonna fill you like a good fucktoy.”

#spicy tag #writing #void writing #alpha ghoul #omega ghoul #nameless ghouls #omega/alpha #the band ghost #ghost the band #kinktober 2023 #ghostober

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blanchebees · 2 years

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Day 15 - Bloodlust

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her-satanic-wiles · 6 months

Text

October 30th

Body Worship, Papa Emeritus II x Catholic!Reader

Masterlist

Words: 4.1k.

Warnings: Body Worship (okay, turned out less body worship and more just worship in general but fuck it, I wanted to write it this way lmao); fingering; vaginal fingering; cunnilingus; marking; piv; vaginal sex; unprotected sex; praise kink; y’all this is soft soft, and I love it; religious symbolism; corruption kink; hair pulling; multiple orgasms;

Author's Note: This is a continuation of October 3rd, so if you haven’t read that, please go and do so before you read this! Thanks!

Recommended listening: Chase Atlantic with their self-titled 2017 album.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Under the cloak of night, he crept through the ancient cobblestone streets of Rome, heart pounding in his chest like a drumbeat of impending doom. The Vatican’s towering walls loomed before him, a fortress of faith and secrets. Driven by a love forbidden by both church and society, he had come to breach the sanctum’s impenetrable defenses.

His leather-soled shoes barely made a sound as he approached the towering stone wall that guarded the Vatican’s secrets. In the moon’s pale glow, he could make out the shadows of security guards patrolling the perimeter. He crouched low, his heart racing with each passing second, and carefully assessed their movements.

Timing was everything. With the precision of a cat, he found his moment when two guards turned their backs, engaged in hushed conversation. In one swift, heart-pounding motion, he scaled the wall, fingers gripping the rough stone edges, and muscles straining with urgency. His breath held, he cleared the top, dropping silently to the other side, where the hallowed ground of Vatican City stretched out before him. It was almost as if he could feel the soles of his feet burning as it touched the hallowed ground, and forced him to move forward quickly.

Silent as a whisper, he navigated the maze of corridors of the Vatican’s residential quarters. The opulence and history that surrounded him seemed at odds with the clandestine nature of his mission. Portraits of pontiffs from centuries past stared down at him from gilded frames, their judgmental eyes seemingly aware of his transgressions.

He moved with caution, avoiding the gaze of any servants or clergy members who might cross his path, clutching onto his Grucifix pendant in his thick hand in an attempt to shield his true identity. His knowledge of the Vatican’s layout was limited, but the urgency of his desire propelled him forward.

Finally, he found himself outside a front door, familiar to him only by the number he’d been given. He knew this was where you resided, his forbidden lover, a cardinal of the church with all the responsibilities but none of the titles or accolades. With trembling hands, he reached for the doorknob, his heart pounding louder than the sacred hymns echoing through the Vatican’s hallowed halls.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, casting dancing shadows on the richly adorned tapestries that lined the walls. He had finally found your apartments, and with a mixture of apprehension and longing, he pushed the door open, revealing the inner sanctum of the Pope’s daughter.

Inside, you sat at a writing desk, the dim light revealing the weariness etched into your features. Your modest dress hung off your frame just as pristine as you liked it. You looked up from your work, your eyes widening in shock and disbelief as they met his.

Time seemed to stand still as your gazes locked. Words failed you both, as the weight of your forbidden rendezvous hung heavy in the air. You stood from your seat slowly eyes fixed on the now cocky Secondo whose arms were outstretched as though he wanted you to run to him and welcome him into your home. Run to him you did, but no words of welcome were exchanged.

Your palms reached his shoulders and with a force, you pushed him, anger now taking hold of your body. “What are you doing here!?” You hissed, clearly livid by his intrusion. This was not how he wanted things to go. “My father will be here any minute! What do you think he’d do if he found a Cardinal of the Satanic Church in his daughter’s room?”

Secondo grinned, his black upper lip stretching into a lacivious smile. “Hopefully he’d understand my intensions and close the door behind him.”

Your hand connected with his cheek, a red mark forming instantly. Just as you were about to lay into him, you heard a familiar voice sounding from the entryway. “___?” Your father had arrived.

Secondo’s eyes widened, now understanding the gravity of the situation. Though the Catholic church was supposed to be a pinnacle of moral upstanding, it wasn’t uncommon for Popes to take drastic measures to protect their Papacy, even if it meant defying their God’s wishes. Thou shalt not murder - unless of course they pose a threat to your power and need to be eradicated. Secondo knew that given he was a footsoldier of the Devil, a Satanic rat sent to plague the people with “immorality”, your father would have no problem crucifying him on the steps of St. Peter’s Basilica.

“Hide!” You shout-whispered, your panic even greater than Secondo’s.

Secondo wasted no more time, diving into your bedroom and throwing himself under your bed, thankful that you didn’t use it as storage. He did so at just the right time, because while he couldn’t see your father from his position, he could hear him and he was right where Secondo had stood just thirty seconds prior.

“What are you doing in here?” Your father asked, his tone certainly suspicious. “Why didn’t you come when I called?”

“Sorry, father, I was doing some work. Correspondances.”

Your father hummed in acknowledgement. “There’s a meeting tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. We’re gathering officials to discuss how we’re going to remove the vermin.”

Secondo didn’t need to visit the Vatican often to know that the vermin your father was referring to was the Satanic Church. He rolled his eyes and contorted his face to childishly mimic and mock your father - though he knew no one could see him, it was a knee-jerk reaction and he thought it was funny.

You hesitated before you spoke. “Yes, father.”

“Something you want to say?”

There were, in fact, several things you wanted to say to your father and none of them were kind. After spending as much time as you did with Secondo, you had grown to understand that they weren’t the monsters you used to fear and that the way your father and other members of your church talked about them was terrifying. You wanted to yell at your father for not treating you as you deserved, as well. How you were always promoted within the church, but could never retain the title as “women didn’t hold powerful positions”. But he had no problem using you to benefit his politics and Papacy. But all your thoughts would fall on deaf ears, and so you settled on a, “No, father.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow.”

As the Pope finally left the room, you sank back against the door you had closed behind him, your emotions in turmoil. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to collect yourself. That was the moment Secondo had been waiting for. He emerged from his hiding spot, his presence a comfort and a promise in the midst of your forbidden… whatever this was. The silence between you was palpable, broken only by the flickering candles and the distant echoes of Vatican life outside your apartment. He watched as you composed yourself, trying to calm yourself of the anger your father had left you with only to feel it flare up when you saw the Satanic Cardinal standing in your bedroom doorway.

“Why did you come here?” You quietly shouted at him, anger ever present in your voice. “You know what would happen to you if someone saw you - what would happen to me, too!”

You stood there, lecturing him about his behaviour, hands flailing about the room in your frustration and a small amount of hatred dancing in your eyes. As you unleashed your fury, your words cutting through the air like a storm, he couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the raw beauty of your anger. Your eyes blazed with intensity, your voice resonated with passion, and your fierce determination only made you more captivating. In that moment, your rage seemed to enhance your allure, and he found himself irresistibly drawn to you. Never had he seen a woman before so beautiful than you in that moment.

He thought back to when he first met you, how your anger and hatred towards him had fuelled his lust, and how it forced him to act against his better judgement to take your virginity on a desk that didn’t belong to him in the bowls of the Ministry.

Caught between the tumultuous emotions swirling around them, he took a step closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your presence. Your anger had laid bare the depth of your relationship, and he knew that your illicit connection was a flame that refused to be extinguished. As you continued to vent your frustrations, he reached out, gently taking your face into his hands and pressing his lips against yours, silencing you, a fervent promise that he would stand with you against all odds, consequences be damned.

You pushed against him at first, not because you didn’t want to kiss him, but because he had the nerve to silence you when you were talking. But the more you melted into his arms, the less resistance you put up, and allowed yourself to be caught by him as you began to fall from grace. Though your descent from righteousness started when you gave yourself to him, it was that kiss that solidified your feelings, and made you realise that however much you loved your God, you were sure you loved Secondo more.

Passions grew when he pressed you against your door, trapping you between him and the wood. His hands moved from your face, down your arms, and tickled at the bare skin until he finally settled at your hips. Your hands gripped at his cassock, holding on tightly and pulling him as close as he could possibly be to you, but even then that wasn’t close enough. His kisses ignited a fire in you that shouldn’t have been lit in the first place, and had you submitting and bending to his wishes willingly. When his fingers tightened on your hips and began lifting your dress, you let him. When his tongue begged for entrance to your mouth, you let it. When his hand found the gusset of your panties, you spread your legs to allow him easy access. When he dipped below the waistband, and stroked a tentative finger over your clit, you moaned into his mouth to encourage him to do it again.

In this moment, he wasn’t a servant of Satan. He was yours. Your ardent and eager slave, a genie sent to grant all of your wishes even if you didn’t know that he had them. His lips travelled South from yours, roaming over vast expanses of your body in search of a single destination. He moved to your jaw, your neck, your clothed dress, your stomach, hips, thighs. He dropped to his knees in front of you, his glove-covered fingers pulling your panties down with him as he knelt before you. You watched him hesitate for a moment, before wide eyes stared up at you as if to plead with you to grant him permission. His eyes were mismatched and popped against his Cardinal paints, a gentle yet emblazoned fire in his eyes as he waited for you. You couldn’t say no; you simply didn’t want to. You needed him probably more than he needed you. You nodded.

He gently lifted your leg in his hands and kissed it from ankle to knee. The higher up his lips went, the more passionately he kissed, and once more he played using his tongue. But now, in addition to kissing, he started sucking, leaving a trail of numerous dark brown hickeys on your thigh. No one would be able to see them here, but every time you caught a glimpse of your naked body, you would be reminded of them. Of him. Of what he did to you and the shame that was supposed to come with it. Shame that you refused to feel because that would imply you regretted letting him have his way with you. But even when you were worshipping your Lord, when you were in the confessional booth, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret your actions.

He immediately dove in and started licking and sucking at your clit. He forgot to take it easy and instead allowed himself to just take from you what he wanted because he was so desperate and needy for your taste. He was encouraged to continue his movements by the faint and low whimpers that escaped from your partially opened mouth.

“Yes! Just like that!” Due to the strong suction he applied, you whispered, ending your sentence with a particularly breathy moan.

One of your hands flew to his head, gripping onto his hat and throwing it to the side allowing you to rest your hand there, pushing his face into your heat. Your hips bucked in pleasure, riding his tongue and taking what you needed from him. “Secondo!” The hand that wasn’t resting on his head flew up to your mouth, covering your exceptionally desperate moans as you came on his tongue, silencing yourself as much as you could so the Clergy wouldn’t hear your pleasure from the other side of the door.

When your orgasm had completely subsided, Secondo released you from his suctioned hold, his chin glistening with your juices and a small grin on his face. That grin altered your brain chemistry and instilled a confidence in you that you didn’t know you had. You pulled him by his cassock back to his feet and crashed your lips against his, kissing him much harder than before. You could taste yourself in his mouth, your own essence moving onto your tastebuds and heightening your arousal. Your hand gripped onto his and pulled off the first glove, still with your lips attached to his, and once it was off his hand, you threw it somewhere in the room. The second glove met the same fate.

You pushed him away from you and pulled at your zipper, undoing the dress and letting it pool around your feet. Your bra was the next to go, falling to the floor and exposing your breasts to him. You stood completely bare in front of him, looking at his face as his eyes ran over your body, drinking in every part of you he could see and committing it to memory. You then took his hand and walked him to the bedroom.

Before today, all your secret meetings had taken place after or during official meetings between your churches, sneaking off while representatives met to discuss peace or something redundant that both sides would ignore. Your meetings had been limited, but over the course of that week had been frequent. Yet for each of your encounters together, Secondo had taken charge. Despite how much he degraded you, how disrespectful his words were, you had grown to trust him entirely. He would never push you passed your limits, or do something to deliberately hurt you that you hadn’t already asked for or expressed your wish to try. Though he always used his experience to heighten yours, you were very much the pace-setter.

This was never more evident by his willingness for you to push him down onto the bed once his cassock and underwear was on your bedroom floor. How he happily lay on his back and watched you crawl up his body, tongue laving over his hairy stomach and chest and driving you further upwards. In your hubris, as your mouths connected in a passionate kiss, you took his length into your hands and lined him up with your sopping entrance, preparing both of you for the stretch you were about to experience. You felt Secondo’s hands move to your hips, supporting you as you sunk down onto him, taking him inside you in one fell swoop. This motion had you both breaking the kiss, mouths falling open in a perfect ‘o’ and your eyebrows raising while his furrowed, darkening his eyes.

You sat up, taking him even further down, and when you bounced for the first time, you ripped a growl from his throat. His back arched, his fingers tightened their grip on your hips. “Fuck!” He gasped when you did it again.

Your inexperience made it difficult for you to find a rhythm, your hands falling to his stomach to support you but failing to give you both the pleasure you needed. Secondo changed your motions for you, instead of helping you bounce, he used his hands to move you back and forth. “No, grind on me, little lamb.” He told you. You found a rhythm pretty quickly. “Just like that. Good girl.”

This position had your clit rubbing against his pubic mound and his cock moving inside you perfectly. The slight upwards curvature of him meant that each time you moved back, he hit that sweet spot inside you and caused you to cry out.

The more you moved, the more confident you became in your ability and allowed you to relax and just feel him - feeling the way he felt inside you, hitting your walls with each movement, his hands gripping onto you tight enough to leave more marks for you to admire later. While your eyes were closed in pleasure, his were wide open, drinking in every inch of your body and admiring you from below. He got to see you in your full glory, breasts bouncing with each thrust, thighs jiggling, mouth agape in ecstasy. The placement of your bed in the room in contrast with the overhead light created an ethereal glow, almost giving you a perfect halo around your head.

An angel.

You were an angel - you were his angel. The once good, Catholic girl who he loathed to look at, who made his life Hell in all the wrong ways. The righteous child who preached to those who didn’t want it, who was so sure in her decisions being the right one, now warmly accepting her mortal enemy into her body without much of a second thought. Now giving into temptation and pleasuring herself, against the will of her Lord, with the very man her book warned her about. The daughter of God using the son of Lucifer to commit sin after sin within the walls of the most hallowed building. It was almost as if he could feel your soul tainting with each thrust of your hips, your purity disintegrating along with his willpower each time a moan fell from your lips.

“Please,” you whimpered, “talk to me. Like you normally would.”

Degrade you? Now? He couldn’t possibly. He couldn’t find it within himself to tear you apart when you looked as you did: red-faced, sweating, panting and gasping for air as you felt him all the way up in your stomach. “I can’t.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Why?” He didn’t answer at first, hoping you’d drop this crusade. But you were determined to get what you wanted and so, you stopped moving. “Why?”

“Little lamb, move.”

“Why?”

He lifted your hips a little more and tried to thrust into you, but you fought against him. “For fuck sake!” He sat up, his nose mere centimetres from yours, his eyes burning with anger and lust, pupils blown so far out the colour had disappeared entirely. His hand moved to the back of your head and pulled at the roots of your hair, lips brushing against your neck as he spoke, “Because you are divine. Move, please.” When he lay back down you picked the pace back up exactly how you did before you stopped, working towards your orgasm. His eyes remained on you the whole time. “You want me to tell you how sinful you are, hm? How much of a bad girl you are for defying your Lord?”

“Yes!”

“I won’t. I won’t use the same words that they do. Fucking shit! I can’t use those words when Lilith herself blessed you with ethereal beauty. When she placed her most beautiful creation on this Earth to walk amongst the mortals; art amongst the rats. I will not degrade one who was made to conquer men.”

You were breathless, both from the exertion and his words. “I c-conquered you?”

“Body, mind, soul,” he gripped hold of your hand and pulled it to his rest on chest, “and heart.” Your eyes met his in surprise, and your body shook as though electricity was running through it. “Conquered and enslaved. I will forever be yours, and worship you like the goddess you are.”

His large hand that had completely covered yours moved up your arm and began to rub both of his around your body, gripping onto pieces and stroking gently.

“Secondo!”

By the way your walls were fluttering around him, he knew you were almost at your peak. “Cum for me, little lamb. Bless me with your holy water.”

This orgasm was much more intense than your first, your body shaking and your eyes glazing over. Your back arched as it washed over you, your fingers digging into his arms and leaving half-moon prints in his skin. “Fuck!” You screamed softly, like your body had just been plunged into cold water.

“That’s it. That’s right. Give it to me.”

“Secondo! Oh my God!”

He pushed you off his cock and put you on the bed beside him, turning you to lie flat on your stomach. Your hips were lifted just enough for a pillow to sit below you, then you felt him mount you from behind, draping his entire body over you. His lips found their way to your ear as his cock lined up with your hole once more. “Your God doesn’t deserve you.” He told you as he entered you again, pressing you against the mattress. His hand found yours and interlocked his fingers with yours as he began to thrust into you, moving at a similar pace to when he usually fucked you. Hard, fast, dirty. But this time there was something new, something tender in the way he touched you, the way his other hand rested atop your hip.

“I will forever get on my knees for you,” he told you between grunts, “and worship between these hallowed walls.” He kissed your shoulder blades. “I will thank you for all that you give me. I am yours.”

“I’m yours, Secondo.” You turned your head to capture his lips and give him a deep kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth as his cock continued to slide in and out of your tight, wet heat.

He surrounded you, every inch of his body running against yours and trapping you between him and the mattress in a way you’d never felt before - making you feel safe. His words told you that you were loved, despite the violent speed they ran through your head as he occupied every inch of your mind. His scent, woody and musky, filled your nose. His grunts and growls swallowed by your mouth in your unbroken, needy kiss. He loved you. He’d risen to catch you as you’d fallen for him. In that moment, nothing else mattered. God and Satan be damned. They’d ruled your lives too much, you both deserved this.

“Cum for me.” You whispered into his lips. “Give it to me, give me everything.”

“Where can I cum?”

“Inside me. I wanna feel you inside me.”

“Fucking hell!”

His hips snapped faster and more erratically until eventually he pushed himself as far as he could inside you, painting your walls with his cum. His eyes were tightly shut and a growl escaped him. He could feel his heart in his throat. His fingers tightened around yours when he came, gripping onto you and never wanting to let go.

As he came down from his high, he peppered your skin with kisses, black Cardinal paints very much wiped away at this point and his body exhausted from the exertion. He stayed inside you, softening with each passing second but not wanting to leave the warmth of your body just yet. You didn’t want him to, either. But it had to happen eventually. He rolled off you, but kept his hand on your hip as he did and rolled you with him, wrapping you up in his capable arms and holding you close.

The later into the night it got, he knew he’d have to leave the Vatican and wait to see you for who knew how long, and that thought hurt him more than he could possibly. He did everything he could to commit you to memory; how you looked, felt, smelled. He needed something to see him through until the next time you managed to see him. And so, he held you close, doing his best to fight off sleep.

That was until your voice broke the silence. “How would the Ministry feel if I left with you tonight?”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

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hyenasheep · 2 years

Text

Ghostober

Day 14 - Little Sunshine

#call me little sunshine #ghostober #ghost #ghost fanart #the band ghost fanart #papa iv #era 4 ghouls #the nameless ghouls #new ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette #stratus ghoulette #digital art #ghost bc

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iamthecomet · 6 months

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hey hey hey i will literally gift you my first born to see the dew & cumulus fleshlight fic i am setting up the ritual as we speak i am serious

Hi, yes, hello. I come barring gifts. Good news is: I do not require firstborn children. But I do take payment in baked goods. In other words:

Kinktober Day 12 - Toys/Orgasm Denial.

A little over 1.5k of mostly unedited Cumulus/Dewdrop, fleshlight usage, mean (in her own special way) Cumulus, and overconfident Dew.

tagging @miasmaghoul because I can.

Cumulus finds the toy in Dew’s bathroom. Sitting on the corner of the sink. Beads of water still clinging to the plastic folds. She looks at it. Touches the silicone. She drags her fingers over the opening. It’s vaguely vaginal in look, but feels cold, a little too stiff. There’s very little softness when she dips her fingers into the hole. Silicone clinging to her fingers.

She thinks of the little ghoul, spread out naked on his bed. Hard already. Waiting for her. The desperate way he’d nuzzled up to her. His fingers dragging along the inside of her wrist, over her thigh. A hand slipping between them while they sat and watched the movie with the rest of the pack. Squeezing every once in a while. Solid and warm.

She can’t help but think of him using this. Hips rabbit quick as he holds it in one hand. Sweat beading on his brow, as he fucks a silicone approximation of a cunt when he has copious options for the real thing just a handful of doors down the hall.

She tucks some of her snowy curls behind her ear. Looks at her reflection in the mirror. Lips already kiss bitten. Nipples pebbled against the thin cotton of her worn t-shirt. She curls her fingers around the toy, and walks out of the bathroom. Back into the oppressive heat of Dew’s room.

He’s where she left him. Sitting up against his headboard. Legs crossed. Cock half hard against his hip. Hands behind his head. Lounging in the flickering glow of the fire in his hearth. She holds the toy behind her back. Sways back and forth a little as his eyes flick over to her.

“What’cha got?” He asks, pale eyebrow quirking up. A smirking digging at the corners of his lips.

She climbs up onto the bed next to him before she shows him. Producing the fleshlight from behind her back with a flourish. Dew groans. Eyes closing, head thumping back against the headboard.

“Lus, come on.”

“Am I not good enough for you now?”

He opens his eyes to slits to peer at her. He curls an arm around her waist, glues her body to his. “You know that isn’t–”

“You sure? Looks like you just used it–”

He rolls his eyes. Eyes darting between her face and the toy. “Swiss got it for me as a joke.”

“And you tried it anyway.”

He deadpans. “Can you blame me?”

She can’t. Especially not with her extensive collection of dildoes and straps. She’d stick her dick in it too if she had one. But the way he’s blushing about it makes warmth pool low in her stomach.

“How was it?” she asks. Can’t help it. She’s under his skin and she has to stay there. Wiggle deeper. She rests her head against his chest while she waits for him to talk. Takes the option away from him to look at her face. His fingers clench on her side.

“Didn’t even cum in it.”

“No? Why not?”

Dew shrugs beneath her a little too quick. “Dunno. Couldn’t.”

Cumulus is glad Dew can’t see the way her face splits into a smile. She flicks her tongue out to trace over his nipple. He hisses. She hears his head thump against the headboard again. He’s going to give himself a concussion if he doesn’t stop.

“Show me.”

He tenses beneath her. The hand carding up and down her spine pauses mid-stroke. She nuzzles against him when he doesn’t answer right away. She kisses him wherever she can reach. Soft lingering brushes of her lips. She circles his nipple with her tongue, sucks on it just enough to make him gasp.

“Why?”

She tugs on his piercingwith her teeth. He arches against her. He digs blunted nails into her back, holds her closer. She shrugs.

“You say you can’t cum in it, prove it.”

Dew stills again and Cumulus waits for him to say no. To back out of this. She’ll let him. She’ll toss the toy aside and slide into his lap. Sit on his face. Ride him until he gets misty-eyed. It’s easy, a game.

So she’s surprised when he pulls the silicone from her hand. She straightens up. Moves out of the circle of his arm to sit higher on the bed, her shoulder brushing his as she settles in to watch.

He spits on his hand, gives himself a couple of cursory stokes just to get himself wet, and then pushes in. Bringing the toy down on his straining length. He winces as he does, looking over at her with his eyebrows raised as if he’s already won the game by not blowing it the second he pushed inside.

“You should use more lube, it might be better.”

Dew drags the toy up and down his length a few times. He shrugs. “It’s fine.”

Cumulus rolls her eyes.

“Let me help.” She reaches between her legs, dipping her fingers into her shorts to drag them through her folds. Already slick. She drags her fingers over her clit a few times. Gasping at the pressure. Dew watches her with hungry blown-out eyes.

When she pulls her fingers free, glistening with slick, Dew gives a half-hearted protest. She ignores him.. She bats his hand away and grabs the toy, pulling it off of him just long enough for her to stick her slick fingers into it. Smearing herself over the inside of it with a few quick passes.

She slides it back down over his cock and this time, he does groan. Maybe from the wet heat of her clinging to the plastic inside. Maybe because she’s the one with her hand wrapped around the sleeve. She doesn’t know. But the blush that rises on his cheeks after makes her stomach flip.

“May I?”

Dew nods. “Y–yeah. Sure.”

Cumulus rises up on her knees. Settles in next to him and sets a pace. Slow strokes. She doesn’t squeeze too hard, makes sure he can’t feel the shape of her fingers through it, that would be cheating. But she fucks him the way she knows he likes. A nice easy build-up. Languid for a while, build up speed the more time passes.

She keeps her eyes on his face–he watches her hand. Dew tries to keep a straight face–to pretend everything he said before was true. That he didn’t really like it. That he can’t cum inside of it. But the little rolls of his hips tell another story. He has one hand on Cumulus’ thigh, gripped tight. Dimpling into soft flesh.

She moves a little faster, a little harder. She leans over just a little, enough so that she knows her tits bounce in her shirt with each stroke. She’s playing dirty–she doesn’t care.

The first groan she rips from him is low and ragged. It takes him by surprised. He swears at the end of it, caught in his own lie. She raises an eyebrow.

“Is it good?”

“Shut up,” he bites out. Hips jerking up into the sleeve. She could stop moving it now–stop jerking him off with it. He’d fuck himself silly in it she held it still. But there’s little fun in that. He’s coming apart at the seams. Desperate to be right, and failing miserably.

“Come on, Dew. Tell me. Is it going to make you cum?” She tips her voice towards sweet, sickly. Dew growls low, still fucking up into her hand, chasing an orgasm he promised her he couldn’t have.

“Lus–”

“You lied to me.”

Dew whines. He tips his head back finally breaking eye contact with her hand and his cock pistoning in and out of the toy. His cock is wet now. Slicked with his own pre mostly. Shiny and red when she pulls the toy almost all the way off.

“This is different.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. Fuck, Lus.”

Cumulus can’t stop looking at him. At the way his chest heaves. Muscles in his stomach jumping. He throws his arm over his face to hide his blush but it doesn’t work, it’s seeping down his throat. The shame painted over his features makes Cumulus throb.

“Is it going to make you cum or not?”

Dew’s quiet except for the harsh pants of his breathing. Finally he opens his mouth. “Yes. Fuck, are you happy? Yes it’s going to make me cum. You’re going to make me cum.”

“When?”

He whines. Fingers clenching. “Fuck. Soon.”

It’s a handful of seconds later when he starts to tense up. She gives him two mores strokes. Watches the way his toes clench, the way his balls draw up. Then she pulls the toy off, away. Dew wails. Eyes snapping open wide. Body jerking as his orgasm stalls before it even starts.

His cock kicks wildly, a spurt of precum rolls down the head.

“Fuck. Fuck. nononono.”

Cumulus grins at him when he finally looks at her face. His eyes pulled wide, betrayal spinning through them. He pants, digging his fingers into her thigh so hard she knows she’ll bruise.

“What the fuck, Lus.” He pants. He reaches for the toy, her hand. She pulls them out of his reach. “Let me cum. Please you gotta–”

She pushes two fingers past his lips, cutting his words off as she pets over his tongue. Smearing the lingering taste of herself over it. She grins, syrupy sweet and deadly.

“If you cum in anything tonight, make sure it’s me.”

#comet writes #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #ghostober #cumdrop #dewdrop/cumulus #cumulus/dewdrop #dewdrop ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #ghostober 2023 #ghost fic #ghost fanfic #ghost band fic #ghost band fanfic #ghost band fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #will upload to AO3 shortly (eventually)

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forlorn-crows · 6 months

Text

kinktober day 20

(not so) dry humping. we already know who's the king of cumming in his pants. put a pretty water and air ghoul on top of him and he's a goner. and they're high? oh yeah, big boy's totally creaming himself

little dick mountain, they/them zephyr (dick/cock for their anatomy), transmasc dew (cunt for his anatomy)

Dew lets ribbons of herbal smoke seep out from his gills, giggling at the ticklish feel.

“Showing off for us, are you, water lily?” Zephyr lilts, reaching out to run a finger along the curly fins on the water ghoul’s neck. Dew sighshappily, preening under their attention.

Mountain hooks his chin over Zephyr’s shoulder and watches the smoke curl and dissipate around them. “Pretty,” he mumbles.

“He is, isn’t he,” Zephyr purrs.

“Pretty high,” Dew replies with a laugh, snuffing out the end of the joint.

Mountain squints. Stares at the ashtray for longer than necessary. He grumbles a little into Zephyr’s hair. “Was’at th’ end already?” he slurs, brows knitting together.

“Number . . . uh . . .” Dew sucks his teeth and lets his eyes droop, brain visibly buffering as he struggles to remember just how many they’ve shared between the three of them.

Zephyr chuckles at the both of them. They relax further back into Mountain’s chest and pull Dew further up their outstretched legs. He happily makes himself comfortable on Zephyr’s lap, wriggling and readjusting until his legs fold pretzel-like to fit between the taller ghouls’ equally lanky limbs.

“You two are adorable lightweights,” they muse. They smooth their hands up and down Dew’s sides, earning a pleased hum from the water ghoul who promptly tucks his face into the crook of their neck like a milk-drunk kitten.

“‘S not fair you just,” Mountain gestures vaguely with one hand, “make it disappear. Fuckin’ air ghouls.”

Dew huffs a laugh against Zephyr’s shirt. “Not fair,” he echoes. He wriggles his hips again, settling further into their lap and into the comfortable haze hanging between his ears.

Zephyr can’t really hide—or help—the strained grunt that escapes their throat at the sensation of a pretty water ghoul squirming directly over their dick. Blame it on the weed, or blame it on the lack of substantial material between Dew’s sex and theirs, but Zephyr is instantaneously more lightheaded and significantly harder than they were just moments ago.

Mountain’s nostrils flare against their skin, ears perking. “Mm, smell good, Zephy. Feelin’ good?”

Dew sniffs too, jolting back up from his draped posture and grinning wide when he feels Zephyr chubbed up beneath him. “I’d say they’re feelin’ real good, Mounty,” he drawls. He rolls his hips for good measure, wrenching a real groan from the air ghoul’s throat.

“You would too with a pretty little water ghoul in your lap,” Zephyr retorts. They give a pinch to Dew’s side as payback.

“Ohhhh,” Mountain says, neurons finally firing in the right series. He squeezes his hands around Zephyr’s middle and pulls them properly against his chest, rumbling contentedly as the bright honeysuckle scent of their arousal wafts over them all. “Wha’ if I have a pretty air ghoul in my lap?”

“Dunno, pet,” Zephyr breathes, dropping their head back against Mountain’s shoulder. Dew takes this as an invitation to melt his lanky body back against their chest, nuzzling his nose close to their pulse point. “What will you do?” they tease.

And then they have the audacity to wriggle their own hips, grinding against Mountain’s lap until he groans too. “Fuck, Zephyyy,” he whines.

“Zephyyy,” Dew snorts, mocking him lightly. But any menace is lost in the giggle he lets loose less than a second later—a giggle that morphs straight into a moan when Zephyr’s cock rubs just right against his clit through their pants. “Oh,” he gasps, humping right back. “That feels real nice.”

“Yeah, does,” Mountain groans, his own cock quickly filling out and the little head turning sticky. “Too—mmpf—too nice,” he admits.

“Plenty to go around, boys,” Zephyr teases. They grind between the others, indulging in the lazy heat settling in their veins. A pleased purr kicks up in their chest. “Fuck, you two feel divine.”

Mountain noses along the wispy hair at their temple, mouth slightly parted as he huffs hotly against the side of their face. A high earth ghoul is an easily excitable—and sensitive—earth ghoul, so his hips are already kicking up in tempo underneath Zephyr’s ass. It’s rough and greedy, but it feels too good to even fathom stopping.

Thoughts are in short supply between them anyway. Especially not when Dew starts bouncing a mere minute later like he can ride Zephyr through their pants.

“Don’t—don’ do that,” Mountain whines. His arms wrap around Zephyr’s torso and he grabs Dew’s waist, but he does nothing to stop him from moving. If anything, he grips the little ghoul tighter, keeping him from slipping off of Zephyr’s lap while he ruts harder against their ass.

The air ghoul gasps, caught between amusement and arousal. “Can feel how hard that little cock is, pet. Getting needy?”

“Likes seeing me ride you,” Dew pants, almost just as desperate. Almost.

“You are doing nothing of the sort.”

“‘lose enough,” Mountain wheezes. The water ghoul keeps glancing past Zephyr’s face, batting his eyelashes at Mountain and flipping his silver hair out of his face. And devils below if he would stop bouncing like that, maybe Mountain wouldn’t be so close to cumming in his jeans.

“Mounty-y-y,” Dew sing-songs, voice bouncing in time with his body. “You got that look on your faaaccee.”

The earth ghoul shakes his head, biting back a childish nuh-uh. The look in question has his eyebrows drawn together, and his chipped fang poking over his bottom lip where he’s worrying it between his teeth. His eyes are droopy and red-rimmed, fighting not to stare at Dew or roll straight back into his head.

Zephyr cranes their neck to run their tongue up the column of Mountain’s neck. They rock their hips back and forth between the two ghouls, slow and torturous. "If you cum, pet,” they rasp, “I bet our droplet will clean you up while I fuck his darling cunt. Won't you, Dew?"

Dew chokes. "What the fu—"

"Oh Lucifer," Mountain cries, voice cracking through breaks he didn't even know he had while his hips give a telltale stutter. Before he can gather the scraps of his remaining wits, he squeezes his arms around Zephyr’s middle and humps them rabbit-quick, creaming himself in no less than five thrusts. He shudders through it, whining high and wounded, cumming harder under the burn of embarrassment.

“Oh, darling,” Zephyr groans, albeit with a slightly teasing lilt. “That sounded like a very good time.”

“Shut up,” Mountain mumbles, grimacing at the way his cock twitches in the confines of his now sticky underwear.

Mercifully, Zephyr leans forward so their ass isn’t directly on Mountain’s lap anymore, getting close to Dew’s face with a wicked smile on their face. Dew can’t help but giggle as they brush their lips over his.

“Better get to work, water lily,” they croon. Zephyr casts a quick peek over their shoulder, winking at Mountain who’s still staring at them, slack-jawed. They turn back to Dew, pressing even closer and lowering their voice to a barely-there whisper: “Wouldn’t want your treat to go to waste, would you?”

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