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lovelettersfromluna · 6 months

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After Dark

Summary: It’s a universal rule that every ghost face at a Halloween party is hot underneath. Let’s test that theory, shall we?

an: AHHH OKAY! Lemme explain. I made a post about participating in kinktober, and while a lot of you wanted me to, I feel like it’s too late for me to properly participate. HOWEVER, I still want to give you something to kick off the weekend! Something spooky AND smutty for all my ghouls out there. I hope you’re all having a good Halloweekend! Pls stay safe and have lots of fun, I’m sure you all have the cutest costumes planned! Also, I took a different approach to reader, so let me know how you guys like her!! 🖤🖤 p.s I was drunk when I wrote this :p

Warnings: SMUT!!! 18+, MDNI, porn with no plot, strap-on sex, mentions of the word “cock”, mask kink, alcohol usage, mentions of latex, riding, cliche house party trope, slight sugar mommy!ellie if you squint??, lmk if I missed anything!

Out of all of three hundred and sixty five days of the year, today was your favorite.

Today was the one day within the year that there weren’t really any rules. You could wear anything, be whoever you wanted, and it was socially acceptable to get drunk while doing so, and there was no way in hell you would ever pass up on that.

No matter the circumstances, you were invited to a Halloween party. Whether it was some cheesy bash that was being thrown at a friend of a friends house, or a more upscale party, you were going out.

And you always looked damn good doing so.

You were always praised on your costumes, every year it was expected of you to top what you did the last, so there was no doubt in the fact that you were putting in maximum effort year after year.

This year? You stuck with one of the classics of course. The devil.

You were dripping in skin tight latex, the black corset you wore that pushed your boobs out perfectly, your soft skin nearly spilling out of the tight top, the tight booty shorts that hugged the globes of your ass, your cheeks peeking out, the gloves that hugged your arms, and the thigh high socks that shined under the moonlight, everything you wore was that delicious shiny material that made you look almost unreal.

And underneath it all? You had painted your entire body red, paired with fake red horns peeking out of your pretty hair.

So yeah, you were almost always crowned as the queen of Halloween.

This year was no different, halloweekend had been kicked off with quite the everything shower, making sure your body was in perfect condition for everything you’d be attending. You had gotten ready with your friends at your apartment, getting a few shots in before making it to the biggest party of the year. Everyone looked forward to it, putting together their best costumes for the party at the house that almost everyone died to get into.

Walking down the streets of the city on Halloween was like Christmas, various characters from movies and cartoons cheering, dancing, all social barriers that were put up every other day of the year were down, the veil being lifted for one night that allowed anything to be game.

The amount of whistles you and your friends received on your way there was almost appalling, not to mention the amount of people who told you they’d let you torture them any day. You thought that was cute.

Soon enough, the sounds of the party were near, and you could see the red lights spilling out of the big house in the middle of the block, and you knew it was time.

Eyes were on you immediately, and it made you giggle as you scoped out the food group that was there tonight. Of course you knew they’d stare, drool over you with their mouths open, begging for just a moment of your time.

But you were a very picky girl.

Ignoring their advances was like second nature, all you had to do, was shake your ass, drink some free liquor, and wait for the perfect person to take up your time for the night.

And as always, that never took long for you.

Your hips swayed to the music, eyes closed as you enjoyed one of the best parts of parties. The alcohol you drank made your body warm up in the best way, made every touch on your body feel so much more intense, all while numbing out everything else. It made you feel alive, it made you raise your arms above your head and simply let the music move you.

It was only a moment, your eyes drifting open to make sure your friend was still in front of you, and you’re sure if you hadn’t, you would’ve missed it.

Across the room, stood a tall figure. She wore a loose black t shirt, baggy black jeans, black boots….

And a ghost face mask.

The figure was turned towards you, leaning against the wall with a red solo cup clasped between a hand, a pretty tattoo bleeding into it. Anyone else would have seen it, and thought that whoever it was, was extremely fucking creepy. Everyone knew that ghost face was one of the creepiest people you could choose to be for Halloween ever.

But it just so happened, that you’ve always had a thing for masked killers.

Although you couldn’t see the eyes of the person behind the mask, you could feel them, and it made you burn from the inside. You bit your bottom lip softly, throwing back the rest of the alcohol in your cup before you turned your body more towards them, giving them a good view of your body. You began dancing, putting on a show for them, your glove glad hands running up and down your body, your neck, your boobs, your waist, practically having sex on the dance floor with yourself, all for this stranger who was most definitely watching you.

You feel like you have x-ray vision, because although you can’t see her face, you can see the way she grips her cup tighter whenever you sway your hips, turning around to give her a nice view of your ass. You see the way she shifts her weight onto her other foot whenever your hand runs over the curve of your tits. When you really know you’ve got her, is when you rest your hands on your friends hips, and pull her into your crotch, your eyes never leaving the ghost face mask. You know you’ve got her because she sets her cup down, raises her long, skinny fingers, and silently calls you over before she makes her way down one of the hallways in the house.

And suddenly, a game of cat and mouse begins.

You almost never chase anyone at a party, you’re always the one that’s being chased. However, there’s something about this ghost face. There’s an aura radiating off of her, one that’s dripping of lust, screaming at you, telling you she’s got exactly what you need, exactly what you’re looking for during these stupid Halloween parties.

So you break your little streak, and as soon as she calls you, you’re following her.

The house is lit up with all different colors, the kitchen was purple, the living room was pink, everywhere you turned was another tinted space that fit the Halloween vibe perfectly.

As you look around for your ghost face, you can’t help but huff softly. It almost feels as if she’s disappeared into thin air, as if the alcohol in your system made you hallucinate the entire thing. You begin to question yourself, a soft pout on your lips as you make your way down the final place to look for her.

But of course, you finally find her leaned up against one of the hallways, and of course it’s completely lit up red.

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth as you smile, making you way towards her. Once you’re standing in front of her, you expect her to take off the mask, show her who it is that’s hiding behind that silly mask.

But she doesn’t

You giggle softly, your hand toying with the hem of her shirt as you stare up at her with big doe eyes.

“You gonna show me the pretty face you’re hiding under that mask?” You purr out, and the ghost face simply shakes her head. It makes you pout, tugging at her shirt gently as you lean into her a bit, but still keeping your body a ways away from hers.

“But…how am I supposed to talk to you if I can’t see you” you whine, hoping that this little pouty act will get you what you want. It usually does, but this ghost face seems far too stubborn for that. She simply cocks her head to the side, as if clicking her tongue and mocking your pout.

It makes your pussy flutter with need.

She hasn’t even said anything to you, but you’re already squeezing your legs together, eager for some kind of friction to soothe the ache between your legs, your lips rubbing together with the arousal that grew with each passing second.

You hum softly, your latex clad fingers running down her arm, reaching her tattoo and tracing the pattern gently.

Hm…you don’t recall that one.

She gives you her arm with ease, allowing you to see her tattoo, that makes you smile softly.

“This is pretty…” you hum before you look back up at her, biting your plush bottom lip softly. “Are there anymore for me to find?” You question, giving her a playful smile. This one gets her, because you can hear the way her breath shudders, see the way her chest rises and falls for a moment.

She’s right where you want her.

You hum softly, your hand slowly coming up to the mask, eyeing her closely as you gently begin pushing it up, eager to see her face. You flinch when she grabs your wrist, stopping you from lifting it up any further. You pout again, it’s genuine this time, not like before. A soft huff leaves your lips before you open your mouth to complain, tell the girl that if she doesn’t want to show you her face, you’ll leave to find someone else who will.

But before you can, you’re being tugged into a random bedroom.

Upon entering, you can see why this place is the spot was so popular for parties. The rooms are clean, and the host went as far as to decorate them accordingly, the same red lights from the hallway lighting up the place. If you weren’t so hellbent on getting fucked by the ghost face, you’d most certainly be gushing over what a wonderful party host this was.

Your thoughts are completely cut off by strong arms wrapping around your waist, and pulling you into an even stronger chest. It makes you moan softly, your head falling back against her chest. You feel her strong hands running up and down your latex clad body, squeezing your hips, your boobs, running along your thighs. You can hear her breathing behind you, and you can almost hear the sweet tone of her voice through it.

You let out a small whine, one of your hands coming down to lay over hers, keeping her close to you. “Wanna play with you…” you hum softly, it makes your ghost face groan, her hands squeezing your plush body before she turns you around, and pushes you onto the soft bed.

It makes you giggle softly, your hands running along the soft sheets as you watch her. She looks like a god above you, standing so tall, the ghostly mask almost haunting as she eats you up with her eyes, head cocked to the side as you lazily smile up at her.

You move to prop yourself up onto your hands, palms pressing into the bed, your legs spreading for her. “So…you’re leaving the mask on, huh? Does that make me the helpless victim?” You pout out, holding back a giggle as you recite the lines from the movie the mask came from. It earns a slow nod from your ghost face, and you have to hold back a moan.

“Well…please play with me ghost face…I wanna be yours tonight” you purr out, your body sitting up as you reach forward, your fingers snagging around the belt loop of her jeans and pulling her closer.

You hear a soft sigh from behind the mask, and it almost sounds like she’s suffering, like she’s torturing herself just as much as she’s torturing you by not touching you yet. Her strong hand slowly comes up, cupping your chin gently and angling your head up, her thumb dragging across your bottom lip. You moan softly, kissing her finger gently, it makes her groan again.

She slowly moves down, bending down until her hands are pushed against the bed, caging you in. It makes you crawl backwards, a soft whimper leaving your lips. When she’s this close, backing you up onto the bed, you can catch a glimmer of her eyes beneath the mesh material of the eyes of the ghost. You can see her long lashes, and big green eyes. It makes your pussy throb desperately.

Because fuck, you’ve never seen eyes that pretty before.

You almost done catch her hands reaching down between you, pushing into the tight material of your latex shorts, fingers pressing against your soaked core. You’re so desperate for her, that the small act makes you moan softly, eyes fluttering shut as you grind your hips against her fingers. You can tell she’s skilled just by the way she fingers your clit and rubs you slowly, the right fabric of your shorts making it an even tighter fit.

“Fuck…” you hear softly from behind the mask, and it’s the first time you’ve properly heard her voice, it makes you feel like you can cum right then and there.

You blink softly as you stare into her eyes, watching her as she slowly toys with your pussy, making you whine and moan for her from the small motions of her fingers.

“Mmpph…feels…fuck…your fingers…” you moan softly, feeling yourself growing close just from the way she rubbed your throbbing clit. Your hand goes down to her tattooed arm, grabbing it as she begins to speed up. You whine loudly, your back arching as you grind in tow with her movements, and fuck…you’re so close, you feel like you’re going to explode just from a stranger finger fucking you.

And suddenly, her fingers are gone.

“W-what? Why’d you…why’d you stop” you whimper softly while trying to catch your breath, watching as your ghost face began to tug your shorts off. You whine softly with embarrassment, watching as she silently tugged your shorts off, a string of your arousal connecting you to your shorts. You can’t remember the last time you were this wet.

Your ghost face groans softly, mumbling something under her breath that you don’t quite catch. You open your mouth to say something, but you’re quickly being tugged up into her arms as she lays down on the bed.

Now you’re straddling her lap, your bare core dragging along her jeans as her strong hands massage your thighs. You whine softly, because you can feel the prominent bulge pressing against you through her pants. Her hands go to your hips, forcing you to grind your soaking wet pussy against her crotch, your arousal staining her black jeans, making you burn from the inside out.

You moan loudly, your hands pressing against her lower stomach as you watch the way she slowly grinds you down on her as she pleases. You’re eager, so you’re already undoing her belt and unbuttoning her jeans. You almost expect her to stop you, but she doesn’t, and you’re pulling out her pink strap, the length of it making your mouth water.

If you weren’t so fucking horny, the color would’ve made you giggle, but there’s no time for that. You tug her jeans down a bit more, to which she lifts her hips up to help you, and you begin to crawl up her body slightly until you’re hovering over her length, her hand grabbing the shaft as she runs it along your lips, getting it wet with your arousal before she helps you sink down on it.

The moan you both let out is past pornography, the weight of you pushing down her strap rubs against her clit perfectly, and she’s sure she’s never experienced someone riding her so fucking well. The sound of her pretty voice makes you want to cry, because she’s been teasing you so much that you’ll take just about anything she gives you. You begin to bounce on her length slowly, adjusting to her size, your hands pressed against her chest to act as leverage.

“Oh my…fucking god….mmmhhh…a-ah!” You moan out, eyes fluttering shut as you ride her, back arching as your hands go up into your hair, tugging on it, needing somewhat of an outlet to release the pleasure you were feeling. Your senses were on overload, and you weren’t sure if it was the build up of not knowing who the hell you were fucking, or if it was truly that good, but you’re sure you’ve never had a fuck this good in your entire life.

“Fuck…that’s a good fucking girl…bouncing on my cock so well…yeah…that’s it” the voice makes you moan loudly, your eyes opening immediately. She sounds perfect, her voice low and smooth, strong hands gripping your thighs for a moment before they come down on your ass, spanking you hard and making you moan even louder.

You can practically hear the smirk in her voice when she speaks, her voice dripping with lust as you fuck your self down onto her cock. “Haven’t even seen my face and you’re doing all of this for me…treating me special, pretty girl?” She hums out before moaning loudly with you. You can’t help but nod, slowly feeling yourself becoming dumb on her cock.

“S’good…feels so good…I’ll do anything for you” you moan out almost incoherently, saying just about anything that comes to mind in that moment.

As you continue bouncing on her cock, the motions of it all makes her mask come up a bit, and you catch a glimpse of her plush pink lips tugged beneath her pretty teeth. It makes you whine softly, and you realize you can’t fucking do this anymore.

You reach forward, your hand going to the edge of the mask, and you tug it off of her head.

You feel like you’ll lose your breath, keel over and die at that very moment when you see her, because she’s so fucking pretty. Her brown hair is so messy, soft fringe splayed across her face, prettiest freckles littering her red cheeks, those same green eyes staring into yours, pretty lips tugging into a smirk when she sees the way your eyebrows furrow with pleasure, knowing that it was her face that made you feel that way.

“Just couldn’t wait, could you?” She smirks softly, her words followed by a soft groan, hands traveling up your body and gripping your boobs that were nearly completely spilled out of your top.

“Want you to cum for me, princess…can you do that? Cum all over my cock?” She urges on, her words cut off by various moans as you continue fucking yourself down on her. You want to speak, but you can’t, so all you do is nod eagerly and give her a loud moan, feeling the familiar warmth building up in the pit of your stomach, electricity traveling through your body.

Ellie moans with you, her eyes never leaving yours as she gives you an encouraging nod. “That’s it baby…such a pretty fucking girl…been watching you all night…knew I needed to…fuck…have you…come on baby…cum for me” she commands, and you feel like you’ll turn into jelly just from the way she tells you to do it, so stern, your legs felt like they could no longer hold you up, shaking as your back arched almost painfully, and your orgasm raked through your body.

It was electrifying, the feeling of her cock sliding so deep into you, your walls fluttering around it as you came, her hands gripping your hips tightly as she pushed even deeper into you, her own orgasm visibly washing over her as she pushed her head further into the bed, eyes squeezing shut, curse words flying from her pretty lips.

You both sat there for a moment, Ellie sitting up and pressing her face against your chest as she held you close, hands rubbing against your thighs, soft kisses against your boobs, giving both you and herself a moment to collect yourselves after the intense session you’d just had.

After a few moments passed, you pouted softly as you looked down at the bed and noticed some of the red body paint had smeared onto the bed.

“Fuck…you don’t think the host will be mad about that…do you?” You mumbled softly, trying to avoid the embarrassment you felt at the fact that your fucking costume had ended up screwing you over.

Ellie chuckled softly as she looked down at the bed, humming softly as she pressed another kiss to your chest before she pulled you down to lay down with her, having every intention of keeping you there until enough people left, and you could both go for a shower.

“Nah…I don’t mind” she smirked softly, knowing she’d most definitely be making sure the sheets were changed for you both in the morning.

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie x you

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ghouljams · 5 months

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Ghoul, Ghoul help, I would let this man do unspeakable things to me and thank him for it.

Posted on Twitter Here

He's a terror in town, the red lacquered wood of his mask catch's the sunshine under the dark shadow of his hat. His duster sways with each step, just catching on the handle of his pistol. He holds a rifle at his side, he looks like death come to town when he kicks in the saloon doors.

Ghost grabs the first man he sees by the collar and shoves the mouth of his rifle against the soft fleshy part of his jaw. The saloon goes quiet. The man in his grip struggles and panics against his grip, fingers clawing at the fist in his shirt. Ghost surveys the patrons with a cold indifference. His rage has never been hot, pumping ice through his veins as he clicks the hammer back.

"Where's my fucking wife?" He asks the bar, his voice booming in the silence. In the middle of the room a table of men stand. Each one with their hands inching towards their own weapon. Ghost has met a lot of stupid men in his time wandering the west, but there's none as stupid as an outlaw's underlings. Something about the fear normal people allot them seems to make them think they're untouchable.

Ghost lowers his rifle from the man in his grip and points it at his newest targets. He fires from the hip, two quick shots before the recoil really hits. Blowing the jaw off one man, and the ear off another. He drops his previous victim, who scrambles off, and shoulders his rifle to aim at the last outlaw standing. They hold their six shooter with trembling fingers.

"Not asking twice," Ghost tells them, his finger inching on the trigger.

"A m-mile west outside town, there's a cave we camp in." They stumble over their tongue. That's good, Ghost was hoping they'd give up easily. He makes his way towards the guy, keeps his rifle trained on him. "I can take you," They offer.

"Mighty kind," Ghost hums, swiping one of the short glasses off the table, "but I can find it." It's a single motion when he tugs his mask up and tips the brown liquor into his mask. He sets the glass down and pulls the trigger, not bothering to watch the man crumble as he tugs his mask back into place.

Fucking hell this place is a mess, the whiskey isn't even decent. Kidnapping a sheriff's kid and a gunslinger's wife, he'd think they'd at least take you somewhere nicer. Although the hell Ghost's sure you're putting your captors through probably didn't help their decision making. Aw but don't worry baby, he's comin' for you.

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plutoswritingplanet · 7 days

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Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader)

a/n: as promised, here's the full chapter. as a person who's only played skyrim and oblivion, writing for fallout is like throwing a hot dog into an empty corridor (i will not elaborate)

Warnings: Suggestive Themes, Attempted Kidnapping, Medical Malpractice, Cooper is a mean old man with a boner. Takes place before the events of the TV series.

Summary: The Ghoul takes up a bounty that has been gathering dust for quite some time. You, bored out of your mind, decide getting kidnapped might be the perfect way to entertain yourself. Both of you bite off more than you can chew. Cross-Posted on AO3

PT. 2

Copper knows this job will be different, before he even decides to take it up.

Scribbled with flaky charcoal, your face looks at him from the notice board every time he delivers a bounty. For months now, a humble title of "The Healer" hangs without change, between criminals, raiders, and people who were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Cooper hasn't considered going for you, it was never his first choice. The bounty on your head was moderately low, in comparison to your notice board neighbors. He had other priorities, bigger than a smeared over pretty face, for half his usual reward.

Until one day, as he stomped his way through the dusty floor, his eyes caught onto your wanted poster yet again.

Well, to be frank, his eyes strayed towards your portrait almost every time he crossed the threshold, but he would never admit it to anyone, let alone himself. Like a constant companion, overlooking all his accomplishments since he decided to stick around the place, your empty gaze followed every transaction, every head delivered onto the table. Some semblance of a routine, he supposed, looking over the board.

There, under the regular information, freshly painted numbers stared back at him. A new bounty, significantly bigger than any reward on the board. The red paint was still dripping down the yellowed paper, the addition must've been made quite recently.

A hefty price. One, that would supply him with enough chems to last for half a year at least. Tempting. Especially now, that he's down to only a couple of vials, his coughing fits becoming longer and closer between. So tempting, in fact, that he tears your wanted poster from the board, finally getting a closer look, a deliberate one.

Booker gives him a raised eyebrow, all the commentary needed, encapsulated in this simple gesture, and Cooper shoots him a nasty look. There aren't many requirements regarding the job, except one, annoying detail.

You have to be alive and in good condition.

Now, alive Cooper could do. Alive is easy. Good condition, however, opened a whole shitbag of problems, which he would be a fool to overlook. Still, the prospect of such money couldn't be ignored. And, he'd be damned to admit it, but he was curious. Who were you? Why haven't you been caught for such a long time? What caused this sudden raise in bounty?

- Did you piss someone off that bad, little lady? - he asks the yellowed paper, and gets no answer, as expected.

***

The bar is filled with patrons, all tripping over themselves to loose as many caps on cheap alcohol and chems from under the table. It's not as rowdy, as one would expect. This settlement must be one of the few more civilized ones, for the Wasteland's standards at least. Farmers, mechanics, shopkeepers, they all clam together, smelling of smoke, sweat, and alcohol.

You're here too, hunched over your drink with a sour expression. Your shoulders are slumped, covered by a piece of cloth, that used to be a shawl, but currently looks more like a rag used to wipe down countertops. Despite that, Cooper sees in the way your body is poised, taunt and graceful, that you're neither a naive Vault Dweller, nor a scruffy raider. A skinny scarf is tied around your neck in a fashion, that reminds Cooper of the old westerns he used to star in.

The sudden influx of memories is neither wanted, nor useful, and he clicks his teeth in annoyance at his own betraying mind.

The Healer, he thinks to himself, making his way through the crowds, until he reaches the side of the bar, one seat from you. Not a glance is spared in his direction. The townsfolk must be used to seeing Ghouls run around the place. Still, when he orders a glass of moonshine, out of the corner of his eye, he can see you peaking at him with curiosity. There's a intelligent glint in your eye, and Cooper feels a shiver of curiosity climbing up his back. He scolds himself for being too old imediately after.

By all that's holy, you look tired. And not the kind of tired, that sticks to a person living in the Wastelands, no. It's the exhaustion of a shitty day, dragging your eyelids down to flutter against creeping up sleep. The alcohol can't be helping your state, however, it will most definitely help Cooper. He almost feels sorry for you, but if your dumb enough to leave yourself in the open like that, while being hunted, there's nothing more he can do but take advantage.

Cooper turns his face ever so slightly towards you, looking over your expression for any signs of recognition. He sees none, more than that, there is no emotion at all, not even a blink at his fucked up face. Raising his hand, he touches the rim of his hat in a wordless greeting.

That finally wrenches some resemblance of a reaction out of you, and with a blink, you tip your glass towards him, before downing its contents. Your cheeks are flushed, lips wet with remnants of moonshine and there's a lock of hair falling out of place, and damn it, Cooper suddenly feels so old.

Ordering drinks while in your current state wasn't the most intelligent thing you could've done. The harsh taste of alcohol burned your throat in a way that was less than pleasant, and for a moment you consider turning to some good old chems for help with... Well everything really.

It started with Old Lady Sal.

You've replaced her hip a while back with some scrap metal and a fuckload of reused body parts. Now, every other day she demands you check it out, make sure it's in working order. Which it always is. This isn't your first replaced hip, you know what you're doing.

Then, you had to sit through the insanely uncomfortable marriage offer from Old Lady Sal's grandson, who is not only dumb as a bag of rocks, but also fourteen.

And to top it all off, suddenly everyone needs you to solve their particular pains of the day. There must be an epidemic of aching heads sweeping through the town, because as soon, as you flee from Old Lady Sal's home, you're being hounded by everyone and their mother, looking to you for help. You were in town for two hours, and your herbs reserve went down to one fucking leaf.

The Ghoul keeps looking at you from under his hat, and at this point it's gotten from uncomfortable, to straight up creepy. You were not about to pretend this stranger's interest in your particular person didn't unnerve you. Although, thanks to your mother's efforts, and later your own, the town practically worshipped the ground you walked on, the same could not be said about the rest of the Wasteland.

You had enemies. You had people, who would love to get their hands on you. You were also deeply aware of the bounty placed on your person. Last you checked, it was quite small, but Ghouls don't have it easy out there, and if there's anyone looking like a bounty hunter in this fine establishment, it's the shady guy giving you a shameless once-over.

So, you place a couple of caps on the counter, and gather yourself best you can.

Perhaps drinking on an empty stomach was not the best idea, because as soon as you slide off the barstool, your head does a flip. Your balance completely off, you trip over your own feet, already accepting the floor, as your soon-to-be companion.

That's when something strangely warm wraps itself around your waist, hoisting you up against the counter. The Ghoul smells just about as pleasant as one would expect, but moonshine is a powerful sedative, and instinctually, you lean into the warm embrace. Eyelids flutter, as you look up into the sunken eyes of your savior, and you can see his throat move, as he swallows thickly.

- Careful now, sweetheart - the voice is low and reminds you of wind whistling through leaves - Gotta keep you in good condition.

Now, if you were completely sober, or at least less drunk, those words would fire an orchestra of alarm bells in your head. Instead, you smile, teeth on full display, as you reach up, to undo a tattered scarf from around your neck.

- Mmm - you sigh, throwing the piece of cloth across the Ghoul's shoulders - My hero.

Then, you grab onto his arm, still holding a tight grip around your waist, and lift it up by the sleeve of his coat. Despite your drunken disposition, you duck under the limb gracefully, and shoot the Ghoul a nasty, fully aware smirk. Realization flickers across his face, but before he can move to catch you, a series of body-wrecking coughs shakes his entire frame.

You hesitate just for a second. The instinct to help is ingrained into your very being, passed down like a mantle from your angel of a mother. But then, self-preservation kicks in, and as the strager reaches into the pocket of his coat, to find his inhaler, you're already out the door, throwing yourself into a mad dash towards your cabin.

You were drunk, not stupid.

***

The sun has barely had time to rise, when you're rudely awoken by the sound of a fist, pounding desperately on your front door. Hard enough to make the hinges squeak and shake.

It tears you from your already light sleep, and you scramble to your feet, hastily pulling a shirt over your head, as you make your way towards the entrance. Hand on your pistol, you look out through the small space between two planks, which make up your door.

It's not hard to understand what is happening. You remember one of the men standing outside your door from the nearby town. Benny or something like that, you were never good at remembering names. Hanging on his arm was another, barely breathing man, who was currently bleeding out right onto your porch. Pete. This one you recognize as a farmer and a hunter. You've treated multiple bites and scratches on him. So did your mother.

Cursing under your breath, you undid all the makeshift locks with record speed, throwing the door open.

- I'm sorry to bother your so early in the morning Healer - you wince at the title, already making a beeline for the table in your kitchen - Pete and I were just...

Both men follow you closely behind, Pete's boots making a disgusting, sloshing noise.

- Put him here, face up - you command, throwing a couple of papers to the floor.

- ...Coming back from a night hunt, and this fucking Ghoul was asking around town about you...

- Cut his shirt - another command, thrown over your shoulder, as you begin to rummage through a cabinet filled with chemicals and various herbs, barely registering the words.

- ...And when we started asking questions back at him, he just shot Peter, right then and there...

You pluck a couple of twisted, dried herbs into your trusty, stone mortar, spitting into it, to gather some moisture. Throwing a semi-clean rag at the man, your voice cuts through his rambling.

- Put pressure on it.

There is no exit wound, and you almost sigh with annoyance at the prospect of fishing out a bullet. It had to be done, however, putting your sleep depriation and a building headache aside, you scoop out some of the herbal paste with your fingers, before pushing past the man.

- Hold his legs down - you mutter, taking a blink-and-you-miss-it moment to check Pete's temperature.

- ...Thankfully, he didn't kill Pete on the spot, so I brought him here straight away.

Pete flinches on the table, as you apply the paste to the wound. That's about as big of a reaction he's capable of, given the amount of blood he just spilled onto your porch. Another thing to clean up, after you take care of the table. What a way to start a fucking day. You can see his eyes follow your movements, barely conscious, but still alive. Sweat beads and gathers at his brow, and you reach out with a clean rag, to dab it off his skin.

Then, as if coming out of a stupor, your eyebrows scrunch together. The story of this faithful encounter finally registering in your brain.

- A man was asking about me? - you ask, despite already knowing the answer.

- Well, kinda. A Ghoul.

You knew which Ghoul, it was not difficult to piece together.

- And he didn't kill Pete, just injured him - you can feel another headache brewing just behind your eyes, as the sheer stupidity of the man in front of you finally comes to the surface.

They led him to you.

Three, steady knocks to your door, smug and confident, interrupt the conversation, and deep down you can see the future of every person present in this cabin. As if you've developed some magical powers.

Stilling your suddenly trembing hands, you settle the mortar back on the table. Thenyou instruct the man to keep pressure once more. Covering yourself with a robe you got as payment for stitching up a sliced finger, you make your way to the door. Fabric flows around your feet, shuffling like the wings of a moth.

Your eyes flicker to the side, where, placed against a wall, stands a small end table. Under it, you've hidden a rather large kitchen knife, and for a second you debate, whether going for it now would be the best course of action. Call it dumb optimism, but deep down, you pray this is some big misunderstanding, and you'll be allowed to go back to your patient, preferably sooner than later.

There's no need to bother with a gun, no time too. Pete is bleeding out faster than a stuck pig, and you were not one to leave your customers unsatisfied. Or, in this particular line of work, dead.

The door opens with a slam. There's a small indent in the wooden wall, where the door handle has hit the surface. The cabin is slowly entering the state of ruin, although, some places are more taken care of than others. Still, it has a roof, a semi intact entrance and even a window with actual glass in it. Quite the luxury in the Wastelands.

Cooper didn't know what to expect, not really. Seeing you for the first time gave him a mixture of varying feelings, as well as a rather uncomfortable throbbing in the nether regions. Who could blame him, really? Your wanted poster gave you no favors, and although he was able to recognize you almost immediately, he still felt slightly short of breath.

He scolds himself for getting distracted by his thoughts, and as your eyes lock down on him, he lifts the barrel of his gun, touching the rim of his hat. Your eyes shift like little sparkling gems onto the weapon, before your jaw locks.

- Salutations Ma'am - his voice is rough from lack of use, the southern twang even more prominent, than usual. - I believe our introduction was cut short.

Yellowed teeth flash in a mirthless smirk, and then his expression tightens.

Cooper is used to people reacting, let's say, negatively towards him. Fear is the most common, and he can't blame the masses, he really can't. Disgust, as well, happens quite often. But as he looks over your feverish gaze, he can't really see either one of the emotions.

No, what you give him is an annoyed roll of your eyes, and he's surprised to say, it bothers him more than he'd be comfortable admitting. He's a goddamned bounty hunter, a ruthless one at that, and a fucking Ghoul. Fuck you mean, you're annoyed by his presence?

- Look - you're already turning away from him, shooting a look towards your kitchen, where he can see a leg twitch in a spasm on top of your table - I ain't got time for whatever this is - your hands wave around in Cooper's general direction. - You'll have to wait your turn.

- Ah, well, I'm not the patient kind.

A squeak of surprise leaves you, as the Ghoul pushes past your body, entering your house gun first, murder clear in his deep set eyes. His steps take him through your living room, dangerously close to your kitchen. You know exactly, what's going to happen, and your arms shoot out on instinct. His body is unnaturally warm, even through layers of clothing, as you wrap yourself around his waist, tugging him back with all your might.

He looks down on you, more bothered by the sudden contact, than the fact you're trying to stop him. It gives you a small leverage, and you push him back a couple of steps, settling yourself between the entrance to the kitchen, and the bounty hunter, raising your hands and getting ready to fight.

- I don't have time for this kinda bullshit. Git. - Cooper snarls at you, his gun-free hand coming up to grab at your hair.

Before you have time to react, five fingers twist hard into your roots, and you stifle a scream, as the Ghoul pushes you off of him. On instinct, your hands come up to tug against his wrist, nails digging into the leathery skin. He lets you go with a hiss, and you use that second, to throw yourself towards the end-table.

Your fingers find the handle with a practiced ease. Then, your body twists like a radioactive viper, and all Cooper sees is a flash of metal. The blade is rusty and chipped, but it could still do some damage. Especially now, that it's pressed against Cooper's jugular, the dull, cold presence halting all his movements. Your eyebrows raise in small recognition at the thin fabric tied around his neck. The scarf. Your mouth goes dry.

- Everything okay back there? - Benny asks from the kitchen, you can hear his approaching footsteps.

- All's well, kee pressure on the wound - your voice is tight with nerves, but the man obeys.

Cooper watches your face carefully, his gun tucked neatly into the meat of your stomach, ready to fire, should the situation escalate. You can feel it, pressed right into the hollow space under your spleen, a good place to be shot, if you could even say that. You're dealing with a professional, apparently.

- We seem to have a bit of a conundrum on our hands, little lady - Cooper drawls, voice bordering on a whisper, his eyes follow the way your tongue darts out to lick your chapped lips.

- I have a patient, he needs help - you explain in an even tone, breathing shallow - After that, I'll deal with you.

Despite being at a loosing position, you refuse to back down, your eyes glued to the Ghoul in front of you. You're bracing yourself for the imminent pain, should he decide shooting you would be easier, but it never comes. Instead, the barrel of the gun presses further into your flesh, before lightly retracting. The cold metal is dragged up, across the expanse of your stomach. You bite the inside of your cheek, and surpress a shiver, when it travels between the swell of your breast, and settles into the dip of your collarbones.

You swallow thickly, Cooper's eyes catching the movements of your trachea like a hungry vulture. The tip of the gun touches the underside of your chin, pushing your head to one side, then the other, as if the bounty hunter is taking inventory in a butcher's shop. Once he's had his fill, he lifts the gun completely, raising his hands as a peace offering.

- Git - you whisper back at him, and a flash of something rushes through his mangled expression.

You take a step back, chest rising in falling rapidly, blade still in front of you, just in case. Then another step, and the bounty hunter dusts off his coat, before sitting down on a stool in your cluttered living room. You don't like the way he looks at you, eyes shining from under his hat, as he occupies your space like it belongs to him. Long legs apread in front of him, and you try very hard not to sneak a peak between them. Finally, you cross the entrance to the kitchen, and the knife is tucked under the leather belt of your pants.

A sigh, a roll of shoulders, and you're off.

Cooper watches with curiosity, as you immediately start to work on the poor bastard stuck on your table. Your back is taunt, hands bloodied but steady, as you lean down to take the metal bullet out of the wound. The herbal paste you've provided earlier has dried up, and is currently working wonders for the bleeding, while you reach inside with not-so-sterile pliers.

- Hold him down - he hears you say, as the legs on the table start to twitch again.

Finally, a metallic sound of the bullet hitting a dish is heard, and you stand up, making your way towards the cabinet filled with chems. There is a grace to your movements Cooper wasn't expecting. Reminds him of dancers, ballet ones.

Back in the day, his ex-wife would drag him to all those ballet shows, ones that made him feel stupid and uncultured. He swallows around the memory, willing it to die down, as you shoot him a cautious look over your shoulders.

He wiggles his gun at you lightly, a reminder, that all this is happening because of his good humor. You scoff.

Pete starts screaming as soon, as you begin to dress the wound properly. Chemical smell fills the air, and although Cooper lacks the nose to feel it, his eyes water all the same. You seem to be unbothered, years of doing this exact job must've hardened your senses. Finally, it's done. There's nothing more you can do for the man, and you wipe your hand on your forehead, leaving a large smear of red.

- He'll be fine - you mutter towards the other man in the kitchen - He needs rest, and a loads of it too.

A couple of small bottles and dried herbs land onto a checkered cloth, and you tie it closed, like a small care package.

- Dress his wounds twice a day - you press the package into the other man's hands while he helps his partner off the table - Good luck.

Cooper glares at the men, as they stagger out the front door. They don't seem to pay him any mind. Well, the shot one definitely doesn't, he can barely walk on his own. His friend is too preoccupied with keeping him on his arm, to even acknowledge that this whole situation was orchestrated by Cooper himself. Or perhaps, he's to stupid to connect the dots. It's hard to tell these days.

The door closes with a click, and Cooper stands up from his stool, sauntering over to the kitchen.

You're currently trying to wash blood off of your hands, which are stained crimson almost up to your elbows. It goes about as well as expected, and as you dry your arms with a rag, there's still a pinkish stain to your skin.

The table is a mess, blood and herbs seeping into the wooden planks which make up the surface. Cooper leans against the doorframe, as he watches you splash some chemicals onto the wood. It bubbles up in a disgusting mixture of red, green and yellow. You let it sizzle for a moment, before taking that same bowl of water you've been using to clean up, and dumping it all onto the table. The mixture flows down to the floor, the residing surface looking much cleaner.

- Now, as much as I'd love to sit around and play house with you, honey - Cooper starts, and has to clear his throat, when you look up at him wordlessly, blood on your face and fire in your eyes - I have a bounty to collect.

Sighing, you push your hair back from your forehead, exhaustion, which is synonymous with living in the Wastelands seeping off of you like a tidal wave.

- Do you have a name? - you ask, reaching for a leather bag sitting on one of the chairs.

- I do - he says, and you roll your eyes at the deliberate lack of information his answer has given you.

You mutter something that sounds scarily close to "asshole", and begin to chuck a couple of vials into the bag, then some herbs, then a water canteen. It's like you're ready to move out at any time, and a sneaking suspicion arises in Cooper's mind. This isn't the first time you're in this situation, if your calm demeanor is anything to go by. Suspicious, highly so, and as you turn around to face him, Cooper raises his hand ever so slightly.

Your eyes fall onto the bundle of rope in his grip, eyebrow raising in annoyance.

- You serious?

- As a funeral, sweetheart - he sways the bundle lighty, his other hand pointing the gun at your abdoment - Now, are you going to be good, and come over here? Or should I come over there and make it unpleasant for us both?

- You're already making it unpleasant - you mutter, but cross the kitchen towards him, raising your hands, palms up.

- Wait.

Confusion hits you, when the Ghoul reaches into his pocket, producing a small piece of torn cloth. Your entire body goes still, as he grabs onto your chin, cold metal of his gun digging into your cheek, the barrel settling into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. Then, despite your best efforts at freeing yourself from his grip, he brings the cloth to his lips, wetting the fabric with his tongue.

The bloody smear on your forehead is wiped down rather roughly, and you twist in place like an impatient toddler, when Cooper leans his head back, to look at his handywork. You shiver with disgust, at the feeling of his drying saliva on your skin, and as soon, as he lets you go, you begin to rub at your forehead with the sleeve of your robe.

- Good condition - he rasps, and if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under.

He gives you a nasty smirk, settling his gun down for just a moment, and grabbing your wrists together, so he can tie them up. Which is all the time you need to make a decision, and kick out your knee, nailing him right in the crotch. He doubles over, cursing loudly, hands shooting out to grab you, but all he catches is your tattered robe, which you slide out of easily.

Fater than he would've anticipated, you grab at your bag, and bolt to the back of the kitchen, where he watches you jump over the table and all but slide out of the house through an open window. It's like a choreographed dance, the way you move out of his grasp. When he reaches the window himself, there's no sight of you, other than the rustling of tree branches somewhere in the woods behind your cabin.

- Fucking women. - Cooper whistles.

He can't deny the shiver of excitement running down his back, as he secures the hat over his eyes. If that's how you want to play, he would oblidge. It's been far too long since he could actually enjoy a more challenging bounty. Cooper slowly walks out of your cabin, looking over all the little trinkets you've gathered inside. Then, almost lazily, he lifts the robe you've left him to his nose. He feels nothing, of course, but he has quite a vivid imagination. Vivid enough to supply him with a memory of a scent from his past life. Lavender, he'd bet you smell like lavender.

Your tracks are deep and visible across the ground, and so, the hunt begins.

#my writing #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout smut #fallout x reader #fallout tv series #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #i walt on his goggins till we fallout

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gutsby · 6 months

Text

Nighthawk

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: After your lusty, short-lived relationship with a certain archer goes south, you decide to bring Spencer to the neighborhood Halloween bash to take your mind off things. Daryl isn't so easily convinced of your intentions and decides there's no better place than his motorcycle to show you just how much he misses you.

Warnings: NSFW. Unprotected p-in-v, semi-public fucking on Daryl’s bike and hints of exhibitionism, generally rough, jealous sex. Age gap. Assplay. Angst.

One swig of the witches’ cocktail brew, a couple candy corn jell-o shots, and several spiked seltzers in, and you were starting to have serious doubts about your decision to come out tonight.

You clutched your stomach in one hand and Spencer’s arm in the other. The man guiding you inside tried his best to stifle a chuckle.

“You good?” he asked, nudging you with his elbow.

“Great,” you lied through your teeth.

The two of you were weaving through a swarm of partygoers in the entryway now. A sea of masked faces and shredded costumes came dimly into view, and with the sight of the first goblin ensemble drenched in fake blood, you wanted to vomit. You’d think a community of people plagued with nightmarish walkers year-round would lay off the theatrics when it came to Halloween attire as gruesome and grisly as that, but no. Spencer laughed and clapped the ghoul on the shoulder.

“Abraham, my man!” he greeted, “You’re a vision in red.”

Abraham lifted his mask just slightly to heave a sigh.

“It’s hotter’n H-E-double hockey sticks in this sick contraption. I’m sweatin’ like a hog,” he scowled.

When his eyes had adjusted to the light and he caught a glimpse of you, practically green in hue, his face softened considerably.

“You alright, darlin’? You look ready to blow chunks.”

He wasn’t far off the mark. Your stomach was busy doing somersaults up and down your body, and your brain was on the fritz with a new wave of nausea.

“Need a little water is all,” you managed meekly.

Your red-haired companion nodded and started off down the hallway without another word, beckoning you and Spencer to follow. You passed through the rest of the house with relative ease, amazed at how much Alexandria appeared to have grown and how many of those people were here, in Deanna’s house, for some seemingly inconsequential Halloween celebration. You barely recognized half the faces.

Spencer grinned as he sensed those same people were all turning their heads to follow your path. It was his first time parading Officer Friendly’s daughter around a public gathering—the first time you’d agreed to make it known you two were a tentative “thing” since the messy conclusion of your last relationship—and he was pleasantly surprised to see the effect you had on others.

Never mind the fact you were wearing a white lacy bodice, miniskirt, garter belt and stockings. Paired with the makeshift halo and wings, breasts practically bursting at the seams of your costume, it seemed you garnered more attention than you knew what to do with. You were hot, and you were his, Spencer thought with a superficial sense of pride. He squeezed your hand a little tighter and secretly hoped you’d cross paths with everyone he knew in town, so he’d get his chance to prove it.

The three of you descended the few short steps into the garage, where it seemed most of the music, booze, and bodies had congregated. A smoke machine supplied a thick white mist about the room, and alongside the near-blinding white and purple strobe lights, you had only to cling to Spencer’s side and hope he was still following Abraham.

Suddenly, a red solo cup was thrust in your direction, and you smiled at the sight of water spilling over its edges.

“You’re an angel,” you beamed, standing on tip-toes to place a quick kiss on Abraham’s cheek.

Abraham opened his mouth to speak but was presently cut off by a louder, shouting voice:

“Quit your loose-lipped lolly-gaggin’ with the lady and get your ass over here!”

Eugene was drunk. So very, very drunk. You could tell by the sound of his voice alone.

“Kiss my freckled ass,” Abraham yelled back, baring a toothy smile at his friend as he started to make his way over. Tugging you and Spencer to follow suit.

You shot a worried look over your shoulder.

“Spence, I don’t think I—”

“Sure you can, sweetheart,” Spencer interrupted, already eyeing the white table at the center of the room, “Just drink your water, and you’ll be good to go in no time.”

You doubted you would but downed the liquid nonetheless. With each step ahead, it seemed you were only growing sicker, so you got to guzzling the water fast and just hoped you would be able to keep it together.

Unsurprisingly, the folding table was already crowded with plastic cups. Eugene and Aaron making sloppy pours across the tops with cans of Busch Light cradled in their arms and cracking up at every spill they made. You quickly scanned the group for any unknown, or unwanted, faces and felt relieved not to see Rick, your father, or Daryl, his best friend—and your ex-boyfriend.

That last part your dad still didn’t know about. You wanted to keep it that way.

Today marked six months since you and Daryl had started your ill-conceived affair and two weeks since you decided to call it quits—you know, after one too many occasions where Rick had almost caught you two boning on the sofa and Daryl swore left and right he was going to tell your dad everything, while you begged him not to. You sensed any such admission would be guaranteed to destroy your dad and Daryl’s friendship, so you made him promise not to tell.

Begrudgingly, Daryl had agreed, but he’d hated every minute of it. You knew it was only a matter of time before the whole thing blew up in your face, and eventually, it did.

Fourteen days after you’d broken the man’s heart, here you were, waltzing into a party on Spencer Monroe’s arm. Six long months after you’d kept Daryl your dirty secret, you were flaunting this fabrication of a relationship for all to see.

You knew he’d hate you for it. You needed him to. There was just no other way you could shake his affections—and consequently protect his friendship with your father, along with any last shred of unity in your group—unless Daryl despised you. You knew no surer bet than Deanna’s shitbrained son to accomplish that goal.

At present, Spencer pressed a beer-sodden pair of lips to yours, and you almost recoiled.

“You in, baby?” Nodding toward the drinking game still being set up before you.

You shook your head no.

“She’s in!” Spencer announced anyway. Then, quietly, he leaned in closer to you and said, “Quit bein’ a pussy.”

Defying all logic, he kissed you again. Harder. You reluctantly accepted his tongue in your mouth and feigned a smile when the rest of your group cheered their drunken, congratulatory encouragement around you.

When you pulled apart, you felt you wanted to puke again, this time for reasons unrelated to the alcohol. Then, as if on cue, your eyes fell on a previously undetected member of your party.

Daryl stood across the table now, gaze locked on yours with a look that could’ve killed you twenty times over.

To your horror, Spencer extended his arm across the way to shake his hand. Clearly trying too hard to ingratiate himself with a man who looked like he wanted him dead.

“Daryl Dixon!” he cried, smiling too wide for anyone even half as happy.

Your archer shook his hand and hardly seemed to see him. Disinterest painted plain across his features.

Spencer turned to you next, and you wanted to melt into the floor as he gestured toward Daryl, stupidly:

“Have you two met—”

“Your girl’s too young to play.”

Daryl didn’t even deign to grace you with a look. Spencer forced a laugh.

“You kidding? She’s practically a pro at rage cage,” he returned, pinching you playfully.

Somehow, you sensed Daryl wanted Spencer to shut up even more than you did. The stoic, tight-lipped frown with a set of deadened eyes sealed it for you.

At length, he chanced a look in your direction, and his expression didn’t change.

“Doubt it,” Daryl scoffed, “Better let her sit this one out before her daddy comes and gets her.”

He sure had been singing a different tune when he’d had his cock crammed down your throat a couple weeks ago. Didn’t seem too worried about Rick’s intrusion back then, you thought to yourself.

Before Spencer could respond, the whole table shook beneath you. Eugene was beating his fists against the surface, sending solo cups shaking every which way.

“Hear ye, hear ye—”

“Someone please cut him off,” Rosita grumbled behind you.

“This is the last—I repeat last—chance any one of you gets to join this game of rage cage right here,” Eugene declared, the end of his sentence punctuated by a hiccup.

One of Deanna’s goodie bags went sliding across the table to you. You looked at Daryl, confused.

“This one’s already itchin’ to pull trig,” he said to Eugene, “She better sit this out.”

Daryl then nodded toward the plastic baggie as if to suggest you go ahead and puke, but you flung the thing back at him fast.

“I am not,” you countered defiantly.

“Prove it,” Spencer interjected, useless as a screen door on a submarine.

You turned and saw him smiling ear to ear, oblivious to just how badly you wanted to rock his shit.

“Leave her be, chucklefuck.” Abraham boomed overhead.

“Well now, nobody has to prove—” Eugene paused to hiccup again, “—anything.”

In spite of your friends’ words of support, you felt a twist in your stomach and a familiar heat rise to your cheeks. You were blushing, you knew it, but you simply couldn’t lose out in the face of such a challenge. No matter how drunk and disoriented you were, you wouldn’t let Daryl, much less Daryl and Spencer, make a fool of you now.

You glanced at the handle of Everclear in Maggie’s hands just as she started to mix herself a drink.

“I can take a pull to prove it,” you said, motioning to the bottle.

Everyone who’d heard your suggestion and spared a look to the bottom shelf bottle of liquor made a face. Though piss-poor spirits were certainly no anomaly for your group, it was hardly anyone’s inclination to start chugging stuff close to 190 proof—least of all for folks who didn’t have a death wish or a liver made of steel.

“Fuck no,” Maggie and Daryl said in unison.

“Hell yes,” Spencer supplied just as fast.

So the matter was settled.

Maggie eyed you with an incredulous look when you reached for the bottle but knew better than to stop you after you’d made up your mind. Before you knew it, you were holding the thing by the neck and struggling, at length, to ignore Rosita and Abraham’s pleas over your shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“You’d be better off swallowing a bag of dicks dipped in Drano, darlin’.”

Even Daryl was watching you with wide, desperate eyes, silently pleading with you not to take the pull.

You would’ve gladly relented then, dropped the handle back on the table and stepped away without another word, but there was something in your brain telling you you needed to see this through. Whether it was self-sabotage or simple, drunken stupidity, you couldn’t be sure, but you probably wouldn’t care much longer.

You tipped your head back and flooded your mouth full of the grain alcohol.

Shortly after, a spasm in your stomach told you, without a shadow of a doubt, you wouldn’t be swallowing any of it.

You dropped the bottle and bolted out the door. Before you’d made it one step outside, you were already spraying a cloud of Everclear in the air, along with every food content and bodily fluid residing in your stomach. You dropped to your hands and knees in the grass and hurled like you never had before.

You closed your eyes and dug your fingers deep into the dirt below, desperately wishing you weren't wearing white. Convulsed in your tight corset and hoped this process wouldn’t be too painful to endure.

When you felt someone’s hands start to gather your hair in a ponytail behind you, you surmised you might not be so lucky. You spit on the ground and tried to shake them off.

“Get fucked, Spence,” you hissed.

The hands didn’t flinch from your hair and instead pulled it tighter between them.

“I said, get—” you struggled at the last, trying in vain to buck off whoever was above you. You cursed under your breath when it seemed clear they weren’t planning on budging.

“If this is how ye treat yer boyfriend, I’m glad ye dumped me,” a voice said with some amusement.

You groaned into the grass below you, eyes squeezing shut in disbelief,

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Daryl loosened one hand from your hair to start rubbing circles in your back. When you retched again, he moved his palm even more softly.

“I think I know ye well enough to say ya shouldn’t be chugging Everclear to prove a point,” Daryl said.

You didn’t have anything to say to that. He was right.

After one more pitiful heave, you started to struggle to get upright and eventually onto your feet. Daryl looped an arm around your waist and helped you up.

Your mind was reeling and your stomach was steeling itself against another potential onslaught of convulsions. When Daryl turned you around and steadied you in front of him, though, all concern for your current predicament ebbed gently from your mind. His blue eyes seemed to study every inch of you.

“Do you hate me now?” you asked abruptly.

You felt stupid for asking as soon as you said it. But then, to your surprise, Daryl smiled. He placed a hand on either side of your head and tilted it up to his.

“Do I look like I hate ye?” he asked.

Perhaps owing to your state of intoxication or the way Daryl made you feel when there was little more between you than a few inches and ample opportunity, you actually looked him up and down. Trying to detect any trace of hatred or the least bit of annoyance there but coming up with nothing. He started stroking your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

The memories and the feelings all came flooding back faster than you would’ve liked, but there they were, and there he was, standing tall and tame and perfectly blameless in this situation you wished you hadn’t shot to shit two weeks ago. You suspected if he’d been looking at you any differently that night, it was simply an act of self-preservation on his part; no number of dirty looks or disparaging jabs could mask the fact that he couldn’t hate you if he tried. One warm look from those wide, placid eyes turned your stomach inside out and made you ashamed you ever left him in the first place.

You weren’t sure who started it, but your lips were back together in seconds, placing hot, frantic kisses all over the other.

“Did you miss me?” you mumbled against his mouth, in between a barrage of kisses.

Daryl’s hands traveled down your back and squeezed your ass, prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

“More than you fuckin' know,” he groaned as he slid his tongue between your lips.

Quick came the mind-numbing rush of intimacy in secret, that lovely, electrifying feeling of doing something you shouldn’t. It took no time at all to get reacquainted with that addictive sensation—you felt yourself lean into it even more this time around. You slipped out of his arms and back onto your feet, ready for more of him.

“We can’t—” Daryl started, out of breath already, “—keep doin’ this, honey.”

“Yes, we can,” you returned quickly. Reaching for his belt while your pupils widened with lust.

You made the few familiar maneuvers to undo his buckle, button, and fly, and when you palmed him over his boxers, he moaned.

“What happens when your daddy finds out, hm?” Daryl managed through gritted teeth.

“If he does,” you corrected him.

“When he does.”

You sighed, frustrated. Daryl sure wasn’t making things easier on you.

“What do you want me to say, D? That I—I can just come clean and tell him his best friend’s been bangin’ me for the past six months? You know he’d skin you alive,” you said, your voice a little less kind than you intended.

It was the truth, though.

Like clockwork, Daryl took you back in his arms and carried you clear across Deanna’s yard, toward a tiny shed in the back. You snuck a look over your shoulder and saw his old, trusted motorcycle propped up against its siding.

When he placed you on the wide leather seat, you knew this fight was far from over. You kissed again, anyway.

“I’ll tell him myself then.” Daryl pulled off of you and ran his hands up your stocking-covered legs.

He rubbed them up and down and up again until his fingers faltered at the edge of your garter belt, secured snugly across the tops of your thighs.

“Or we can tell him. Together,” he rejoined, calmly dropping a hand between your legs.

Your breath caught in your throat. You were already so sensitive, soaked through your panties and ready to take him whole. You whined when he swept his thumb over your clothed heat and clamped your thighs in defiance when he started to rub you up and down.

“I need you now,” you moaned.

Daryl didn’t bother concealing his smirk and just reached back to readjust himself—toying with your attention while you waited for him to take his cock out fully.

“No foreplay, huh?” he mused aloud as he eased his boxers down, “Must’ve been missin’ this cock somethin’ awful.”

You nodded without a second thought.

You were physically salivating at the sight of him. Watching him pump himself firm in one hand and brush your cheek with the knuckles of his other in a gentle touch.

“My baby won’t mind gettin’ stretched out again?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Promise not to cry?”

“Uh-huh.”

He was teasing you now. He’d seen your wide, listless eyes drink in the sight of him and couldn’t resist.

When he told you to bend over the seat of his bike, you obeyed in an instant. You planted your palms on the cushion, stuck your ass in the air, and practically wiggled it for him there.

“Like a bitch in heat,” Daryl growled just loud enough for you to hear.

He took your ass in both hands and spread yourself just wide enough so he could see the leaking, dripping mess along the slit of your panties. You sighed when he pried your underwear off a second later.

Daryl’s idea of “skipping” foreplay still wouldn’t be complete if he didn’t tease you to the point of orgasm at least once or twice.

True to form, he leaned in and placed a kiss over your unclothed core, and your knees almost buckled. He pushed his tongue up your slit, circled your clit, and dragged it all the way down past your pussy to the point he was nearly veering into uncharted territory for you both.

You gripped the bike below you and moaned out loud.

“Daryl, baby,” you pleaded with no motive in particular. You didn’t know what he was doing, you just wanted him to keep doing it.

“Want me here?” Daryl asked, his thumb sliding to that same delicate spot.

You pushed your hips back into him in a wordless but enthusiastic answer in the affirmative. Daryl grew even harder.

He knew you weren’t ready for that just yet, knew he wanted to make that first-time experience in your other hole a little more sentimental than taking you over his bike with little to no lubrication—but the thought of the future endeavor excited him nonetheless. He peppered a couple more gentle kisses between your legs before standing up.

You whimpered at the loss of contact and almost turned around to say as much when he reappeared behind you, this time pressing the head of his cock between your folds.

“How bou’ here, honey? Can I fuck ya here?” he asked, all sweet words and civility when it came time to fuck you stupid.

“Y-yes, Daryl, yes,” you supplied your consent in a second.

“Then be good for me while ye take it, okay, doll?”

Before you could answer, Daryl’s cock was already starting to split you open. Soft, slow, and tender, with a stretch that made it feel like your first all over again, you both moaned at the feeling and rolled your bodies into one another.

Two weeks apart and you were all but fiending for an orgasm like he hadn’t been inside you for a year or more. Judging by the sounds Daryl made when he bottomed out, he was right there with you.

He dragged himself out to the tip and plunged back in, gripping your hips like they were the last thing holding him to earth. Then dropped his head back and groaned when you pushed yourself back to start meeting his thrusts.

“Ye feel too fuckin’ good,” he grunted, relishing the sounds of his balls slapping your ass with each bounce.

Your nose was buried somewhere between the seat and your own trembling fingers, scarcely breathing more than you could manage between each moan of his name. He loved you like this, all bent out of shape with your brain devoid of any other thought but his cock. He ran a finger over the pale, feathered wings of your costume—the ones that mirrored those emblazoned on the back of his vest—and couldn’t help but smile.

Just when you clenched and sensed you were dangerously close, Daryl hoisted you back onto your feet. Pulling out for a moment to switch positions and take you in his lap, now straddling him over his bike.

You sighed at the new sensation and smiled now that you could see him face-to-face. Daryl grinned right back and took your lips in his for a couple quick kisses.

“M’perfect girl,” he hummed, sponging kiss after kiss across your skin in sloppy, haphazard fashion.

You tipped your chin back and reveled in his gentle affections, moving your hips over him a little faster now.

“Gonna cum f’me? Show me just how good I’m making ye feel?” Daryl prodded, eyes alight with lust.

You pressed your forehead to his and nodded. Breaths coming out more ragged and strained than ever, you felt Daryl lift his hips and start fucking into you a little sharper, grip your sides a little less gently and just start giving it to you hard and fast and senseless so you’d be spilling over him in no time at all.

You were a mystery to him in many ways, but this realm was not one of them. Daryl knew just the right angle to take your soft, sensitive spot—strike it over and over and over again so you were clenching tight around him, begging him not to stop—and in a matter of seconds, you both got what you desperately wanted.

With one final squeeze around his member, you reached your peak and screamed his name, fucking him back with every vicious thrust he gave you. Then, try as he might to hold it in, Daryl grew just as oversexed and sensitive, shooting his load in you moments later.

The two of you rutted and moaned and clutched each other tight as you trembled through your highs. With Daryl’s warmth spreading deep inside you, you would’ve liked to stay this way forever—maybe rest in each other’s arms long enough to rally for rounds two, three, and four, if not more. But at present, you were content just to hold him.

A dull thump of music echoed from Deanna’s house. Daryl eyed you up and down, seemed set on asking if you’d like to go again, but took you by surprise with another question entirely.

He pulled you tight in his lap so his lips were close to yours. Sank his fingers into the flesh of your sides and said, ever casually:

“Ready to tell Rick?”

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #smut #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon one shot #twd imagine

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dazed-and-confused23 · 6 days

Text

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 7

Pure Indulgence 2

Summary: The only way Cooper wants any part in sharing you is if he's in charge. Hancock is fine with being ordered since he gets to be the one between your thighs. You're just along for the ride.

Pairing: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader / John Hancock x Female Reader

Warnings! Drinking and Drug use. Threesome. Smut and power dynamics? Blood too. Jesus this feels sinful.

Masterlist

You lay on your back, head pillowed in Cooper’s lap, eyes glassy and heavy from the hit of jet Hancock had pressed to your lips on the way up the stairs of the Old State House that Hancock calls home. Cooper's scarred fingers have threaded themselves in your hair, keeping you still for the other ghoul that lays between your thighs. Your legs have been shoved up, knees swaying and twitch in the air.

"Don't be such a pussy, John," Cooper rumbles from behind you, and reaches down to pinch your nipple harshly, and he smirks when you sigh and bow off the bed, seeking more, "My girl likes it rough."

Hancock humms, and the subtle vibrations against your clit make you buck up, but John is stronger than what his lanky stature made it seem, and keeps you held down with ease. He abandons your throbbing bud with one last lingering suck, and sinks his teeth into the flesh of your thigh, making room for his hand to sneak up and shove two fingers into that beautiful, wet cunt.

Cooper watches, dark eyes focused on the way you wither and shake under the onslaught of having both of them touch you. The hand that John isn't using to finger fuck you with pushes your hip down, and he can't help but find the entire sight hot as fuck. He shifts behind you, pushing you forward so that he can bend down and seal his lips against your own in a furious kiss full of teeth and tongue. The cowboy bites your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, and the groan you make when he cleans the red liquid has his cock twitching in his boxers.

"Let a man enjoy his meal. Ain't every day that I get something as sweet as this," Hancock murmurs and flicks the tip of his to gue through your puffy folds, gathering the slick pooling from your cunt and lapping it up like the starving mutt he is.

Your mind is slow and muddled, a fantastic mixture of alcohol, chems, and blazing arousal that you lose yourself in.

"Curl your fingers up - heh, yeah, jus' like that," Cooper orders when he pulls away from your red smeared lips. Your eyes clinch shut when the tips of his fingers brush against that spongy spot hidden within your core. A broken sound of pleasure falls from your lips, and your thighs quiver when John does it again.

"Look at that, better than the smoothest hit of jet," Hancock drawls and cocks his head up to look at the other ghoul, lips twisting in a sardonic smirk, "Can I fuck her now, Sir?"

It irks him to call the other man that, but John wasn't one to pass up good things, and neither did Cooper it seemed like. So it wasn't too much of a loss.

Cooper’s grin is nasty, and he reaches out to hold the other ghoul by the jaw, the tips of his fingers digging into Hancock's jaw, and rumbled, "Ask nicely."

If John were still human, he would have blushed at the display of dominance. Instead, he grinned just as meanly back and hissed.

"Please?"

Cooper laughed, then released the other man, leaning back against the headboard in satisfaction. You squirmed under them, lips twisted up in a pout at their attention drifting away from you. Your cowpoke snickered, and waved a hand at John.

"Hurry it up, boy. The lady's gettin' impatient."

Hancock doesn't need to be told twice. He sits back on his knees and grabs his dick, and scoots forward to drag his cockhead through the mess between your legs. You whine in want, hips shifting, and looking for release. John angles himself and then slides inside your fluttering pussy with a long groan.

"Fuck," He snarled and buried his face in the crook of your neck, hips jumping forward as you clench around him. John gets lost in the feeling of your cunt, and you wrap your legs around his hips, meeting him thrust for thrust.

"She feels good, huh, John. Nice and tight like a goddamn vice," Cooper snarls above you, and the ghoul between your legs jerks a nod, his brow furrowed, and you turn your head, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along his heated skin.

You nip his neck, tongue soothing the hurt, and you squeeze your legs around his hips, pushing him ever further. His cock brushes against that spit inside you again, and you see stars, mouth dropping open as you pant out nonsense.

It's over for the mayor when you bite him again, and then he hears your sex rough voice growl in his ear.

"Come inside me, John. I wanna feel it."

Hancock comes with a muffled shout, his shoulders shuddering as he pumps you full of seed. Your cunt greedily sucks him in, and he is left a panting mess when while you wither and cream around his cock. He doesn't get to enjoy it for long before Cooper is shoving at his shoulder.

John reluctantly pulls out and rolls to the side and watches as Coop takes his place and slides home. His teeth bared in a savage grin as he wraps a hand around your throat, leaning down and looming.

"My turn now, Sweetheart. Hope you can keep up."

#cooper howard #fallout #fallout prime #fallout tv series #cooper howard x reader #x reader #the ghoul x reader #dear hears and gentle people #john hancock x reader #john hancock #hancock

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cupid-styles · 7 months

Text

opposites attract

a quick lil halloween blurb based on my grumpy h series !!

word count: 692

content warnings: none ! a little spicy but nothing wild

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

"I feel silly."

Harry lets out a breathy chuckle as he watches Y/N analyze her Halloween costume in his floor-length mirror, reaching up to fix the devil horns embedded in her hair. He rises from the edge of his bed, taking long strides to come up from behind her and wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her back against his chest.

"You look hot." he mutters into the shell of her ear. She gasps and turns around in his arms, a cackle sounding from his mouth at her shocked response.

"I do not, and this is a dumb costume idea. Why can't I be the angel?"

The idea had come to Harry a few weeks ago, right after his housemates decided they would throw a Halloween party. In between Niall's excessive alcohol purchases and Pauli's myriad of ghost and ghoul themed decor, he made a pit stop at the local Halloween pop-up store to snag angel wings and devil horns for him and his girl.

It wasn't a totally unique idea, he knew — he was sure that there'd be tons of devils and angels attending the party tonight, but none would come anywhere close to his sweet girl. Especially because he was making her be the devil.

She was bashful when he introduced the concept, her face warming.

"You can wear all red— that cute little plaid mini skirt you have, maybe, and I'll wear all white. It'll be cute."

"I dunno, H, I feel like you have a pretty skewed perception of me..."

"That's the point, baby. It's like opposites attract."

After that, there wasn't much room for compromise, especially because Y/N didn't have much free time to look for other couples costumes. So, reluctantly, she shows up to Harry's place with her overnight bag in tow, her red devil-themed outfit folded between her pajamas and her bag of skincare.

It's only when she puts the requested mini skirt on, tucking her red bodysuit into the waistband, her usual platform Doc Martens on her feet and the devil horn headband in her hair, that she starts to feel uncool. Especially when her boyfriend is standing behind her in a silky white button down, cream pants pulled over his legs, and fluffy angel wings strapped to his back. She doesn't understand how he can look so good in nearly anything, and she just looks so... her.

"That would ruin the whole point of the costume, dove," Harry murmurs, ducking to rub his nose against hers before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We can swap if you'd like, I don't want you to be uncomfortable. But trust me when I say you look incredible."

She sighs as she allows him to twist her body back to the direction of the mirror. She watches as his fingertips trail up the length of her outer thigh, ducking underneath the fabric of her skirt.

"Do you understand how lucky I am?" he mumbles, pressing light kisses to her neck, "I have this sweetheart on my hands, and she's so fuckin' gorgeous... and no one else knows what a filthy thing she is in bed."

"H..." she murmurs, her lips parting as he uses his other hand to float over the valley of her breasts, up to her chest and over her neck. He doesn't apply any pressure, instead just letting his fingers ghost over the width of her throat.

"That's really why I wanted you dressed up as my little devil tonight," he continues, kissing her hair as he gives her hip a squeeze. "I want them all to wonder... to see this beautiful body and fantasize about you... only to realize that I'm the one you go home with."

He chuckles quietly when he notices her rounded eyes, her lips swollen from biting at them.

"Isn't that right, baby? My devil girl only goes home with me."

"Uh-huh," she nods, eyes fluttering shut when he finally applies the smallest amount of pressure to her throat, leaning her head back against his chest.

"That's my girl," he smirks, turning her body back around to face him, a slightly stunned expression on her face. "And if you're good... this angel will let you sit on his face tonight."

"Harry!"

#writing #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fic rec #one direction

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st-danger · 3 months

Note

hi st im new here but ur writing is amazing and hurts my dick alot and i was wondring if u coulld write smth with free use if ur comfy 🤭🤭🤭 ty ur amazing

Mind the content, perverts.

Swiss is just starting to nod off, drifting into sleep in his dark, pleasantly cool room under a thick comforter when he hears his doorknob turn and click. Creak of the hinge that follows has him cracking open a single gold eye to see the silhouette of a ghoul who's body language looks sheepish, even in outline.

"Hey," Aeon says, telling on himself instantly with the breathy quality of his voice. He steps in and shuts the door behind him, and Swiss gropes for the light on his nightstand. He blinks against the sudden flood of light while his pupils constrict and the full picture comes into view: Aeon's wearing a thin cotton shirt, socks, and flannel pants- tented. Obviously hard. Pink cresting his cheekbones, unruly hair looking even more unkempt for how he must have been running restless hands through it. For something so vulgar, he looks so innocent. Swiss yawns and nods, sleepy.

"Yeah," he murmurs, rubbing the back of his hand against his eyes. "Go on."

Aeon almost trips over himself, stumbling into his bed.

"Thanks," he says, and Swiss can't help the small smile; how is he supposed to find that anything other than endearingly awkward? The idea of feeling anything but fondness towards the newest summon and his neediness seems insane, though he will admit to a grumble of protest while Aeon jostles the bed climbing in, pushing the blankets away from him and he's exposed to the cooler ambient air. He doesn't bother to move- stays on his side, an arm tucked under the pillow, face half-smushed against it. Doesn't even try to pull his boxers down. If Aeon wants it, well, they've agreed that's his job.

"Need it again, huh?" Swiss says, eyes drifting closed once more. He's just so sleepy. He'll fuck him tomorrow, of course, but for now Aeon is welcome to do as he pleases and Swiss will put forth no effort. Honestly, depending on how furiously Aeon's going to rut against him, he might even end up falling asleep anyway. He hears the rustle of flannel, and then feels trembling hands begin to work the waistband of his boxers down, pulling them lower until they're bunched against his thighs, exposing the cleft of his ass. He does shift to help with this part. He's a gentleman, after all. Ask anybody.

"Uh huh." Aeon's voice is as unsteady as his hands, and it takes Swiss's deep well of maturity to only chuckle a little at the tone. At how horny and out of control and worked up the little critter is. Not from anything, just the weird thrill of a new body and new sensations. Can't help himself right now. Can't stop himself from getting stiffies. Can't keep from getting all excited all the time. He's like a naughty little puppy at the moment, and nobody, Swiss included, would ever dream of dampening his enthusiasm. The press of a warm body against his back, the feeling of him hard and blood-hot against his ass is delightful even through his tiredness. "Just- hard again," Aeon breathes into the nape of his neck. "Gotta cum," he says, quieter. Bashful.

He's not sure exactly what he expected right now. Aeon's done everything from jerk off onto him, to rub off on his boot. Fuck his thighs, maybe- that's what Swiss would have guessed for right now, but Aeon seems to know Swiss wouldn't be getting up to grab any lube for that, and there's no way Aeon has the modicum of self control needed in order to tear himself away long enough to snatch it from the bathroom counter himself. It would seem, however, that Aeon's so desperate he's just going to...hump him. Like he'd done to Cumulus the day before while she read, straddling her chest so he could press his straining, red cock against her still clothed tits and rock back and forth until he finished on her just like that. She's a real sweetheart, Swiss thinks. Let him collapse on top of her after. Stroked his hair and asked if he felt better while she finished the chapter.

Swiss can't help but yawn again as Aeon's hands settle on his shoulders and he begins to thrust against him stupidly. Oh, he'll be trouble for them all when he hits his first heat, and the collective agreement is that nobody is about to tell him what that is just yet. It'll either be the same or it'll be worse (and better), but a team effort undoubtedly. Aeon's movements shift him, rocking him back and forth.

"Needed it so bad," Aeon huffs, right in his ear. "Woke up hard." It sends a pleasant shiver down Swiss's spine, but that's as much as he can give right now. Tomorrow, for sure. Not now. The slide of his cock against him is delicious, though, no denying it. "Hard for you."

"I can tell," Swiss says, nestling into his pillow further, eyes drifting shut. "Really hard, aren't you?"

"So hard," Aeon almost wheezes, curling in closer to him, hands holding ever tighter while things turn ever more frantic. "Can't help it." He lets out a nervous wisp of a laugh. "I really- can't." Aeon draws his leg up, rests his leg on top of Swiss's so he can really get some leverage now. "So hot, Swiss, you're so hot. Oh- I don't think I'm gonna last," Aeon moans.

"Take your time," Swiss says around another yawn. "Clean me up when you're done."

#st-speaks #cw: free use #ghost #the band ghost #ghost fic #ghost fanfiction #ghost headcanons #aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #swiss ghoul #swiss/aeon #swiss/phantom #swiss x aeon #swiss x phantom #nameless ghouls

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hypnoneghoul · 1 month

Text

Hey, Pretty

WC: 2,3K

Relationship: Swiss/Mountain

Tags: Lingerie, Possessive Sex, Degradation, Breeding

Swiss knew how to push Mountain's buttons too well and that thing he bought would be like slamming all those buttons at once. Or, Swiss gets himself lingerie.

Notes: It was waiting for a while, enjoy

Read under the cut or on AO3.

Swiss is nothing, if not a tease.

He revels in having the power to make his chosen victim—or victims—break a sweat, make them all hot and bothered, lose control over themselves. Causing his packmates to cum their brains out after hours of teasing specifically makes something near pride bloom in his chest, he loves it. They all know it too, and even though Swiss always brings them to feeling need and arousal so intense it hurts, they’d never complain, at the end of the day.

Now, when Swiss saw that one ad online, he knew he had to get it and he knew who would be the first—because definitely not the only—victim of his purchase. Mountain didn't have to be teased all day to be brought to insanity. Swiss knew how to push all his buttons too well and that thing he bought would be like slamming all those buttons at once.

It didn’t take long for it to arrive, just a few days, but over those few days Swiss has had to excuse himself every time he thought about it, starting to chub up in his pants.

Oh, it was going to be so good.

Finally, the mail came. The multi ghoul snatched it and immediately ran to his room to try it on and prepare everything.

It was going to be so fucking good.

Swiss locked his door and all but ripped the package apart, cock filling out and kicking the moment his calloused fingers touched the delicate fabric. He put it all on with more care and he’d never been so glad for good online size charts. It all fit perfectly, and when he stood before a full body mirror his eyes lit up. He threw himself onto his bed and kicked off the panties, not wanting to get them dirty just yet. Swiss grabbed a bottle of lube from his nightstand and got to work.

He somehow managed to not cum in the process of getting himself ready to be fucked into oblivion, and around half an hour later he was shooting Mountain a quick text and slipping out of his room and into the commons. Thankfully, Swiss hadn’t come across anyone in there, or on his way. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy that, of course he would, but right now he was a neatly wrapped gift just for Mountain.

The multi ghoul didn’t have to wait much, the message he sent was suggestive enough for Mountain to not want to waste any time. Swiss heard the thump of his heavy footsteps on the other side of the den soon enough and got into position—leaning against the dining table with his legs outstretched.

“Swiss, love? What did you–” Mountain started, but froze as his eyes landed on Swiss. A quiet noise escaped his lips, his jaw dropped and his mouth went dry. The multi ghoul smirked.

He was wearing a bralette, pecs squeezed together by red lace in a way that gave him real cleavage, and an image of a cock sliding in and out from between Swiss’ boobs flashed through Mountain’s mind. Next time, he thought.

There was more, though. So much more. If he looked close enough he’d see gold around the multi ghoul’s nipples shining through the lace, something he really liked to play with.

There were soft chiffon cuffs pulled taught over Swiss’ muscled biceps—ready to snap at any moment—similarly to the delicate, lace gloves that looked movement-restictringly tight. Mountain wondered how they’d feel on his dick, if Swiss would even manage to wrap his hand around it.

The earth ghoul’s eyes stopped at Swiss’ soft tummy, a corset-like bottom of the bra made it lightly spill out at the bottom and the sight made Mountain salivate, rehydrating his dried mouth. Swiss’ belly hid the top of his panties and the garter belt just a tiny bit, and from there his cock caught his mate’s attention. It was half-hard, pressing against the tiny triangle of the panties’ front piece. Mountain wanted to rip the lace to shreds with his fangs.

Noticing where the earth ghoul’s gaze lingered for longer, Swiss spinned, teasing Mountain with just a quick view of his not especially big, but full and round, asscheeks. The giant let out a growl, barely in control of himself anymore. His cock got so hard in mere seconds it hurt.

Last, but not least, his eyes skimmed over Swiss’ legs, covered in stockings, the same red lace as he rest of the set, up to just over his knees and held up by thin straps of the garter belt digging into his meaty thighs. The earth ghoul silently thanked Satan Swiss didn’t get an idea of getting rid of his body hair. It made it all so much better, his muscled arms and thighs and soft chest and tummy covered in thick, dark hair. Not to speak of the bush peeking out from all around the panties.

Mountain was feral.

“Well?” Swiss asked. “What do you th– ah, shit!”

He didn’t manage to finish, being interrupted by the earth ghoul pouncing at him with a growl. Before Swiss could even notice what was happening, he was already bent over the table with the side of his face pressed into the wood and fingers in his ass.

“Jesus Christ, Mountain…” he broke off into a moan when two of Mountain’s long fingers immediately found his prostate. He didn’t need any prep and his mate would notice soon enough that he was already slick and loose. Swiss knew perfectly well what would happen, of course he prepared.

“Get your dick out,” the multi ghoul whined, arching his back into Mountain’s touch. The giant only rumbled in his chest again and ripped one of his hands away from Swiss to follow his humble request. He heard the click of a belt buckle and noise of a roughly pulled down zipper and the next thing he knew the wide head of the earth ghoul’s cock was being pushed into him.

“Make me yours,” Swiss moaned and Mountain absolutely lost it. He shoved himself all the way in with a howl, nailing Swiss’ sweet spot dead on so hard it hurt, and all he could do was whine and babble and drool onto the wood under his cheek. He was already ruined, and they’ve just begun. The earth ghoul kept snarling over him, Swiss could feel drops of spit hitting his back as Mountain picked up a painfully fast and hard and precise pace that sent the multi ghoul to somewhere near the orbit.

“Mine,” Mountain growled, leaning down over the expanse of his mate’s body to scrape his fangs over the—already covered in sweat—skin of his neck.

“Y– yours,” Swiss wheezed out, being rocked back and forth with the force of Mountain’s forceful thrusts. He felt tears pooling in his eyes as his cock, still trapped behind the pretty lace, now wet with precum, was repeatedly shoved into the edge of the table. It hurt, but it felt so good.

For a few moments the room was silent apart from the slapping sound of skin on skin, slick noise of Mountain’s cock fucking into Swiss, animalistic grunts of the earth ghoul and the high pitched whines of the multi ghoul. Both of them were too lost in it to think clearly enough to utter something coherent.

Mountain had his nose pressed into Swiss’ neck, his claws digging into his mate’s waist, pinpricks of blood escaping from under them. He desperately tried to hold himself up with the other hand, firmly planted next to Swiss’ head, tangled in his locs and adding that little bit more pain to all the maddening pleasure.

The earth ghoul slowed and reduced his thrusts to a series of deep grinds that made Swiss feel him in his throat. “Mounty… can I– I wanna see you…”

“Fuck… yeah,” he grunted and pulled away, even though there was reluctance. Swiss whimpered at the sudden emptiness and lack of pressure all over him, but Mountain was quick to turn him over so they’d be face to face. The multi ghoul grinned seeing his mate’s equally blissed out expression. He didn’t wait any more, hooking his legs around the other’s waist and pulling him in.

“Come on,” Swiss muttered and Mountain slammed back into him all at once, arms gripping him tightly. The multi ghoul whined loudly and all whorish, tears now streaming down his face and mixing with the spit that was already pooled on the table.

“You like that, don’t you?” Mountain growled, licking over Swiss’ racing pulse and moaning at the taste. “Being just a whore to be fucked and filled and claimed?”

“Yes, fuck, just for you.” The earth ghoul all but roared at that, returning to fucking him hard and fast, somehow even harder than before. Every thrust was abusing Swiss’ prostate and tugging at his rim and he feared he’d come before his mate. He could already feel the more and more pronounced swell of Mountain’s knot bumping against his ass and wanting to slip in, though. He didn’t expect either of them to be able to last especially long.

“Fucking– getting all dressed up,” he spat. “Like a slut.”

“Just for you.”

Mountain made a pained sound as if he would start crying, too, and Swiss felt him throb inside him. It must’ve been painful at this point, ready to burst, needing that wet, warm pressure all around, squeezing his knot and milking him dry.

“Swiss– shit, I– ‘m gonna–” Mountain’s voice suddenly got softer and finally something other than a growl broke its way free. He hid his face in Swiss’ chest and moaned prettily and if the multi ghoul knew anything at the moment, he knew it meant the giant really was about to cum.

“Come on,” he arched his back. As much as he could, at least, still being so tightly gripped and held in place by his near feral mate. “Gimme your knot, stuff me full. Breed me like the whore I am.”

Mountain made the sweetest noise as he shoved his knot all the way in, sinking his fangs into Swiss’ shoulder at the same time. The multi ghoul’s body went rigid and he might have blacked out for a moment when an earth shattering orgasm crashed into him, just as his mate’s cum started truly filling him all the way up.

One moment Swiss was shaking and crying through it and the next there was a heavy, sweaty body laying limply over him and pressing his own torso into the table.

“You alive up there, big guy?” he breathed out. He tried to chuckle, but the weight made it impossible, so all that left him was a wheeze.

“Mhm…” Mountain rumbled, his chest—and by extension Swiss’—vibrating with a beginning of a purr.

“Good to know, but I’m not gonna lie, it’s not too comfortable down here,” the multi ghoul grumbled with no real venom. Post-nut Mountain was too cute for him to actually complain about anything, especially after the little stunt he pulled.

“Thought you like it when I squeeze you.”

“I absolutely do,” Swiss giggled, “but not on our dining table, maybe. There’s a couch right there.”

“Oh… right,” Mountain said, but he was still slow to move. There was also the fact that his knot, locked in Swiss, was nowhere near deflating. The giant wrapped his arms around the multi ghoul—the process took him way longer than necessary, he got a bit lost in running his fingers over the lace that Swiss was still wrapped in—and hoisted the both of them up, Swiss hooking his legs around Mountain’s waist. The aforementioned couch was close enough so that if Mountain just flopped back onto it, he’d end up with Swiss in his lap. It was as awkward as ever, but it worked, and they landed with a huff and tiny moans at the pull of the earth ghoul’s cock. But they settled, Swiss taking off the gloves and nuzzling under Mountain’s jaw as the other wrapped a blanket that was nearby around him and kept him close. He himself was still clothed, after all, and Swiss—who had a tendency to go cold after coming down from his high—was all but.

“You are a menace, you know that?” the earth ghoul chuckled after a moment of relative silence, filled with just their purrs.

“Of course I do, sweetheart. And you love me for it.”

“I really do, don’t I?” Mountain sighed, rubbing his cheek against Swiss’.

“You’re completely enamored.”

“You’re no better,” he scoffed.

“Oh, I know. How could I not?” Swiss caught Mountain’s lips in a kiss. “You’re so beautiful, strong, smart and your dick is so good. Love your dick.”

“Ah, yes, of course. My dick. I love you, too.”

“Nothing about my dick? Or my ass?”

“Fine. I love your dick, too. And your ass.”

“Knew it.” With that, and another sweet kiss, the discussion ended, and they continued on purring happily, as close together as it can be. Some time later, probably unnecessarily long after Mountain’s knot would deflate, Swiss would get up. The earth ghoul’s dick would kick and slowly fill out again when he’d take in the image of his mate bloodied, bruised and well and truly marked, with cum leaking out of him and running down his thighs. Most importantly, he’d still be wearing this Satan damned lingerie.

Mountain would throw him over his shoulder this time and take him back to their bedroom. He had a few ideas earlier, didn’t he?

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swissalps

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redflagshipwriter · 3 months

Text

Hot Ghouls in your Area ch 4 progress

(read other sections of this and more stories here)

Danny floated miserably through the stacks, pulling out books that looked remotely plausible. Maybe he needed help. Jazz would help him without laughing at him, right?

Sam and Tucker absolutely would not. They would think it was hilarious that he had so little game that the universe assigned him a boyfriend via Jeremy Waters.

‘As if I could pull a guy who looks like that,’ Danny thought wryly, and then felt a little bad about himself in comparison. Jason was, uhhhh, physically blessed. He was tall and well proportioned and his hands- Danny fought down a shiver and resisted the urge to steal another look. Jason was out of sight anyway.

Well. He still hadn't seen Jason's face. Maybe he was ugly! You never know. Or maybe under the helmet it was totally smooth, no face. That would be neat. Danny paused mid motion to imagine that.

Haha. Sick, man.

That concept cheered him up a little as he grimly opened the first book and started skimming for likely words like marriage, spouse, and concubine.

He didn’t bother reading anything in detail. He stuck a post it note on each page with a relevant term and then put the book in a pile to take back to his dorm. This wasn’t going to get solved in a day.

Ah, shit. Danny paused. This wasn’t going to get solved in a day. He bit his lip and looked off in the direction where Jason had disappeared to do his own research.

He truly didn’t have time to devote to this right now. He was not willing to drop his school life in order to solve a sudden problem. Jason was just going to have to cope with whatever timeline Danny could manage without setting his life on fire.

On the other hand, Jason was a human guy who probably had a life of his own at the biker bar/fight club. Whatever the hell required that kind of outfit probably kept him busy! So Danny couldn’t like, just leave him in the castle to chill.

“Not to mention the fact that he shouldn’t be able to live here very long anyways,” Danny muttered to himself.

That was troubling him. Frankly, Jason should have been intolerably uncomfortable in the ghost zone for this long without specialized protective equipment. It wasn’t meant for humans.

‘What did Jeremy do to this guy?’

Yikes. Did this mean… Did this mean Danny should have given that little cult thing more credit? But Jeremy was just such a doofus. He grimaced. Embarrassing. Why were his enemies so embarrassing? This shit didn’t happen to, like, Wonder Woman.

Danny buried himself back in the books to avoid the growing suspicion that Jason might have been uhhhh magically altered to make him an appropriate concubine to a dead king. That thought sucked! He didn’t like it. He really didn’t like the idea of bringing it up with Jason.

When he had what he thought was a good first round of research, Danny shelved the books he’d gotten out and went to find where his …

He whole-body flinched at the point where he needed to plug an appropriate noun into that sentence.

“Jason?” Danny called, juggling books into a stack. “I think we should probably get you back to the re- the human world. Before something inexorable happens.”

A pause.

“I don’t think you know what that word means,” Jason said. A book shut. Danny headed towards the sound, phasing through shelves effortlessly. A spark of curiosity lit up at Jason’s voice. He sounded relaxed, even through the helmet’s filter.

‘I want to hear his real voice. Bet it’s nice.’

Wait. What? Danny shook the thought away, discomforted. He plastered a wide grin on his face. “I don’t know any words,” he lied breezily. “I’m just ad libbing. Anyway!” He flopped dramatically down onto the big chair next to Jason’s, making sure to be extra physical to get a satisfying whumpf. “We really should go! I can get you to the human world, but, uh, I can’t promise to put you back where you came from.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “I think this is going to be a more than one day affair.”

Jason was watching him. There was nothing visible through his helmet, but Danny got the sense that he was tense, waiting for a threat.

Which, what? Why would Jason feel threatened by-

Oh. Danny felt a knot in his stomach. Right. That made a lot of sense. He felt kinda sick.

He didn’t let the feeling show through and barreled on speaking. “I don’t exactly have an easy way for you to contact me, but we probably need to stay in touch to fix this. Do you have any ideas?”

The lie felt kind of gross. But he could hardly tell the guy; “I’m an engineering student in Gotham, you can just call my cell or come to the dorms.”

Jason seemed to relax at the cessation of control. “If you can stick around, yeah. I’ll get you a burner phone, exchange numbers. You’re not going to…” He trailed off. Danny felt a frown somehow. “You won’t have any signal here, actually. That won’t work.”

“I can make it work,” Danny assured him, hands up. “I mean, I can’t make it work here, or I would have offered to help with your tech. But I can pop in and out of the human world and check my messages.”

“That’ll work.” Jason’s helmet turned ever so slightly. “About the books…”

“You found something good?” Danny asked, impressed. “Yeah, awesome. Just be really careful with them, the librarian is a scary guy.”

Jason’s hand flexed over the closed book on his thigh. “I can take- how many can I take out?”

Danny scoffed. “I’m not your dad,” he said. “Whatever you can carry, man. You ready to go or do you need a minute?” He flipped back to his feet with a grunt.

#red hot ghouls #dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main

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chapel-of-rizztual · 7 months

Note

Can we get Dew and New Bugs first time 👀👉👈

This isn’t at all what you asked for but this is what my brain made so enjoy!!

Despite what everyone thought, Dew liked the new ghoul. Sure, he wasn’t Aether, but Dew didn’t think that was a bad thing. He liked how easy the new ghoul was. How desperate for attention he was, how he’d do anything with a simple command, no fighting back. Dew liked how much control he had over him, something he never really had before, he liked how he could do anything to the new ghoul and he didn’t even question it, he’s just happy to be getting the attention he desperately wanted.

Like now, as Dew took control of the kiss, one hand in his stage sweaty and sticky hair, pushing the ghoul backwards into a dingy bathroom backstage, pinning him up against a wall. He was so easy against Dew, letting himself be pushing and pulled wherever Dew wanted. He lets out a moan into the kiss as his back hits the wall behind him, his hands running though Dew’s hair.

Dew’s own hand roam from Phantom’s hair, to his shoulders, down to his waist where he squeezes at his hip, pulling him forward for they can rut their clothed cocks together.

Phantom whimpers as he does, his hips bucking up onto Dew. Dew breaks the kiss with the sloppy sound, a string of saliva connecting their lips.

“Need you. Needed you since you bent backwards like that on stage.” He pants, feeling out of breath already.

Phantom nods, looking at Dew a little like a lost puppy, his pupils blow and lips swollen and shiny with spit.

“Yeah, yeah Dew, anything. Do anything to me.”

He sounds just as out of breath as Dew.

Dew’s cock shouldn’t kick in his pants the way it does at Phantom’s eagerness but it does. Maybe their first time together shouldn’t be in a dingy backstage bathroom, but honestly Dew thinks it’s kinda suits them. It’s desperate and trashy just like the both of them.

Dew shakily starts undoing the buttons on Phantom’s shirt, pointing to his own hoping he gets the idea. He does, and nimble fingers make quick work of undoing Dew’s buttons.

Dew brings their mouths together in another messy kiss, licking into the ghouls mouth. He pulls Phantom’s shirt off his body, letting Phantom do the same for him.

Phantom let’s out a squeak feeling Dew’s warm hands run up his chest, rolling his nipples between two fingers.

Phantom breaks the kiss this time.

“Dew, please. Need you, need more.” His voice breaks on several words and Dew really shouldn’t find that as hot as he does.

“Yeah? I’ve got you, bug. Gunna fuck you so well.”

Phantom keens, high pitched and feminine, his knees bucking underneath him. Dew unfastens the laces on Phantom's jeans, holding him up against the wall with one hand. He dips his hand below the waistband, fingers teasing along the soft Skin of Phantom’s lower belly. His fingers dip lower, feeling something soft and delicate under his touch.

He pulls away to look at Phantom, confusion all over his face.

“Lace?”

Phantom flushes red, avoiding looking directly at Dew.

“Uh, yeah. Lace.”

Dew pushes Phantom’s jeans down to his mid thigh to reveal lace. White lace. Soft looking white lace. His cock was tenting and straining against the flimsy fabric, creating a wet spot making the fabric go see through. Dew could clearly see the ruddy head of his cock through the wet patch. His mouth watered at the sight, the little blood that remained in his brain rushed south, his cock throbbing in his pants .

“Oh.”

“I -uh-I like the way they feel.” Phantom flushes deeper red. “I like how they make me feel. Pretty.” He scratches awkwardly at the back of his head. “Do I-uh- Do I look pretty?”

The way he tilts his head to the side and looks shy, almost scared, like Dew’s going to say no, has his heart melting.

“Fuck, you look so pretty, you have no idea.”

Dew feels his heartbeat in his cock.

Phantom’s ears visibly perk up, his tail flicking against his leg.

“Really?” There’s a shy smile on his face.

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck baby, you’re so beautiful.”

Phantom beams at him, a sweet smile full of fangs and duck his head down shyly.

“You really think so?”

Dew rolls his eyes, grabbing Phantom’s hand and pushing the outline of his very hard cock into his hand.

“You really need to ask that?”

Phantom’s eyes go wide and he squeezes at Dew’s cock.

“That’s because of me?”

“All because of you, baby.” Dew pushes into Phantom’s hand with a groan. Before Phantom can say anything Dew’s pulling him off the wall and pushing him onto the direction of the sink. Phantom shuffles, tripping a bit with his jeans still around his knees but he lets Dew move him where he wants. He gets bent over the sink and Dew pulls his jeans down his ankles.

“Spread your legs for me.”

He does as he’s told, spreading his legs as far as he can with his jeans still restricting him.

“Good boy.”

Phantom should whimper the way he does at the slight praise but he does, his cock kicking in the thin lace.

Dew drops to his knees behind him, ignore the way liquid immediately seeps into his jeans. He doesn’t want to think what it could be. He kneads at Phantom’s ass, admiring the way the lace clings to cheeks making his ass look rounder, fuller.

“So pretty.”

Phantom whine, pushing his out into where Dew is touching him.

“Dew, what-what are you doing?”

Dew squeezes at his ass again.

“Shhh.” He presses a line of kisses up his cheek. “Something so pretty deserves to be worshipped properly.” He pulls the lace to the side to reveal Phantom’s hole winking at him.

Phantom let’s out a squeak feeling something warm and wet running from his taint to hole on one long stroke.

“Oh-oh-Dew-“ He pushes his hips backwards into Dew.

Dew licks around his rim, enjoying the squeaking whimpers Phantom is making.

“Sound so pretty for me.”

He grips at Phantom’s hips, pulling him back into his face.

Phantom whimpers again, leaning fully against the sink, it’s disgusting, covered in a layer of grime but he can’t find himself to care. Especially when he feels Dew’s tongue finally breaching his hole.

Dew licks into him with a moan vibrating around him rim, making Phantom moan loudly and grip the edge of the sink.

“Oh shit, Dew. That feels so good, fuck.” One hand comes round to reach the back of Dew’s head, pushing him deeper into his ass.

Dew twists his tongue licking as deep as he can, pulling Phantom's cheeks apart to get even deeper. He shakes his head, fangs nibbling at his rim. It’s wet and messy, there’s saliva running down Dew’s chin and dripping onto his thighs.

He pulls away, panting slightly.

“Look in the mirror. Tell me how pretty you are.” He gives a long lick across his hole. “Look at how pretty you are while you get your ass eaten.”

Phantom’s legs shake and he feels like they might give way from under him, but he does as he’s told, looking up into the mirror in front of him. It’s clouded with dirt but he can just about make out his reflection. His cheeks are flushed bright red, his eyes are watery, his lashes clumped together with unshed tears. He looks like a mess.

Dew’s get off from his knees, pulling his jeans down just enough to free his cock. He runs the head along Phantom's hole, giving him a few hits.

“Keep looking, baby. I wanna see the look on your face when I fuck you.” He leans over him, trapping him against the sink. “I wanna hear you tell me how pretty you are. And if you stop, I’ll stop fucking you and leave you here in this bathroom alone.”

Phantom drops his head on the sink with a dull thud. Dew tuts at him, but pushed himself in with one long thrust making Phantom moan loudly, the sound echoing around the bathroom. Dew bottoms out, his hips snuggly hitting against Phantom's ass. He can feel the soft lace brushing against him.

He reached into Phantom's hair, pulling his head up so he’s facing the mirror once again.

“Start taking, pretty boy.”

#thanks for the ask!#sorry it took so long!!#the band ghost #ficlet #ghost headcanons #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #phantom ghoul #my writing

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her-satanic-wiles · 7 months

Text

October 15th

Noncon, Possessed!Swiss x Reader

Masterlist ⛧ Hellish Delights Masterlist

Words: 6.8k

Warnings: Noncon; extreme horror; dead dove: do not eat; explicit use of the word “rape” throughout; public masturbation; exhibitionism; possession; violence; demonic asphyxiation; victim blaming; face-slapping; sexual violence; rape; rape-kink; characters acknowledge that it’s rape; piv; vaginal sex; unprotected sex; pain; degradation; public sex; mind break; underprepared; dacrophilia; unconcious sex; multiple scenes; dubcon; fear play; breeding kink; cum eating; accidental filming via security camera; creampie;

The Ghouls aren't demons in my fic. They're humans who work in the Ministry but they're a different class of profession, somewhere between personal assistants and body guards depending on the importance of Papa's task.

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

**WARNING**

This is a work of fiction based in the extreme horror category and should be treated as such. I do not condone the actions the characters make, nor am I actively encouraging others to participate in such actions in everyday life. It also does not reflect the personalities of the performers who play these characters.

The purpose of this fic is to shock, scare, entertain, and make readers entirely uncomfortable. If you are not in a headspace where you can safely read and enjoy this story, or even if the trigger warnings make you uncomfortable, I highly recommend and encourage you not to read this. Your mental health is more important than a work of fiction.

If you are struggling to come to terms with past trauma, please talk to someone and seek professional help.

You deserve to feel safe, loved and cared for. Thank you.

Sometimes rituals went wrong. That was one of the things you learned when you first joined the Ministry. Rituals go wrong and not every demon is your friend. Of course, the more rituals one participated in determined the success of said ritual just down to the fact that experience was a key ingredient and so it was always recommended to bring someone who had experience to every single ritual just to be safe.

Papa Copia’s Ghouls were the more experienced ones in the Ministry, but more specifically Mountain, Rain, Swiss, and Dew. Yourself and Phantom were mere babes in comparison; sweet summer children who knew nothing of life and Satanism, only sex rituals on pentagrams give funny dreams and great orgasms. Because of this, you and Phantom walked into the ritual room with a bit of a pep in your steps, and no worries or concerns whatsoever - not concerning yourselves with seriousness or responsibility. This was just a regular, sex magick ritual surrounded by friends in order to contact the Olde One and get some advice is all. You had done this perfectly before, and you had no reason to think it wouldn’t happen again.

You, Rain and Mountain began lighting the candles in the room, ten of them to be precise. One for each of the pentagram’s corners, and a further five to outline the space in between. Dewdrop, the most experienced of everyone there, was in charge of drawing the pentagram from scratch. The first step was to scrub away the existing paint from a previous Sibling’s ritual.

“Why are we doing this?” Phantom asked as he wrung out the hot, soapy water from the sponge.

Dew sighed, “Did you not pay attention during training, Phantom?”

Swiss was now on his hands and knees next to Dew scrubbing at the red paint with a hard-bristled brush. “Clearly not. Look at those eyes: no thoughts just vibes.”

Phantom threw some of the soapy water at Swiss, in turn earning himself a middle finger. “I didn’t have time to study, remember? I was just thrown straight into life here after Aether…” Phantom trailed off, remembering how so many people in the room weren’t ready to talk about what happened. There was a brief silence while they all cast their minds back to their long lost friend.

“We clean off the old pentagram,” Dew said, clearly exasperated by his Satanic brothers, “because we don’t know what kind of ritual our Siblings performed before we got here. Cleaning the floor allows us to better control the safety of our ritual.”

“What could happen if we don’t clean up?” Phantom asked. “Moreover, what would happen if we just built upon these lines?”

“Oh come on, Phantom.” You said. “Even I know that.” Phantom got on his knees and began scrubbing away the paint on his third of the pentagram. “The cross energy between rituals and magic opens up a gateway for negative energy to come through. Sometimes that energy is just bad karma or bad luck, and you have one hell of a week.”

Swiss, “Literally.”

You continued, “Or it’s the souls of the damned coming through, or worse, demons.”

Phantom, “Has the Dark One ever travelled through these portals?”

Dew, “Probably. But He doesn’t do it often.”

“What I still don’t understand is why demons and damned souls would want to hurt us, we’re all on the same side, after all.”

Mountain, “Catholicism. You give energy to things you believe in, which in turn makes it more powerful, right?” Phantom nodded. “This is why Lucifer Himself wouldn’t come to harm us because we love and worship Him as a friend, a lover, a brother etc. But according to Catholicism, why does Hell exist?”

“To punish bad people after they die.”

“And what do we know happens to these bad people when they spend an eternity being tortured by demons?”

“They become demons themselves.”

“Good boy, have a Scooby snack.” Mountain threw a packet of mini-Oreos at Phantom, who caught it with one hand.

Rain, “Some of those bad people become demons, not all of them. The majority of demons are created by Lucifer as assistants to Him, and they’re usually picked from the petty criminals rather than genocidal maniacs and bigoted pricks. Like Mephistopheles, for example. He was just a businessman before he died. Think Ebenezer Scrooge, but in real life. Stole from the poor to put in his back pocket. In comparison to say, I don’t know, Stalin, he wasn’t too bad of a guy. If Mephistopheles showed up, we would have a great time sending him back. We’d just have to watch our wallets.”

Phantom, “And if it’s one of the dangerous ones, it would be catastrophic?”

Dew, “Absolutely. Papa and the Clergy would have to get involved. Papa would have to contact the Olde One directly to come and drag the beast away. Contacting the Olde One with the ritual that Papa would need could put Papa in mortal danger. So, we clean to save Papa as well as ourselves. So, make sure you get every spot, you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

That was the first mistake made that night: no one double checked before the paint went down that the previous paint had been cleaned completely. From eye-level, everything looked squeaky. But what none of you realised at the time was there were small, insignificant specs of paint left in Swiss’ third. Insignificant specs, but by no means safe.

The second mistake was that when the candles were being placed on the freshly painted pentagram, one of them wasn’t precisely sat atop one of the points. The candles usually acted as an extra barrier of protection, essentially trapping something inside the pentagram if it came through uninvited. Lower level demons or spirits could still be trapped if the candles weren’t precise, but the higher level ones wouldn’t be stopped.

The five Ghouls were there to conduct the ritual on Papa’s behalf, you were there to provide the energy to allow them to do so. This wasn’t your first ritual and so you had no problems at all getting completely naked in front of the five men you considered to be close friends, and sitting in the centre of the pentagram. You’d been part of these rituals before with them, if you hadn’t already had a few of them balls deep inside you on multiple occasions beforehand. And so when they had all joined hands, you had no shyness or reservations about spreading your legs and exposing yourself to them. This would be the third mistake.

Swiss wasn’t concentrating fully. If you’d have opened your eyes and looked at your friends holding hands around you as they chanted, you would have seen Swiss looking directly at you with his mouth open, watching as you touched yourself surrounded by men. You would have seen that he was concentrating on your hands toying with your clit more than chanting the Latin required to safely perform the ritual. You could have stopped the ritual because of it - but you didn’t. You didn’t know that there was a problem.

Your head was thrown back in pleasure as your fingers worked over your clit. Your body was draining of energy the closer and closer you got to orgasm. In your line of sight, you could see Rain looking back at you but his mouth reciting the Latin he’d learned. You couldn’t see Rain’s eyes, though you were desperate to know what he looked like under there right now. All eyes were on you, and it turned you on so much to know that you were being intensely watched by five masked men as you dipped two fingers into your cunt and began to hit your g-spot.

Masked men, the fifth mistake.

Had they all removed their masks, everyone would have seen the biggest problem in the room: Swiss. Not only had he stopped chanting in order to concentrate on your wetness, but his head had begun twitching. Had he not worn his mask, others would have seen his eyes glaze over and roll back into his head. They’d have noticed the white dimming into pitch blackness. They’d have been able to break the circle and preemptively send the demon back to Hell before it could fully appear in the real world. But as hot as the masks were, and as much as you loved looking at them, they were impractical and unsafe for private rituals.

The air grew thick with an unholy presence, and a palpable darkness descended upon the ritual site. The very ground seemed to tremble beneath your feet as a foul wind swirled around you, extinguishing the candles one by one.

As the ritual reached its zenith, a sudden surge of malevolent force swept through the circle, causing you all to recoil in terror. Swiss let out a deep, yet blood curdling scream causing everyone in the room to stop what they were doing and freeze, yourself included. Your wet hand now removing itself from your core and your body sitting up straight in alarm. By the time you’d focused on him, Swiss had broken the circle and was cupping his head over his helmet, as though he was in immense pain. His screaming continued as he doubled over, bent at the waist and yelling at the floor. Swiss’ voice, now filled with an otherworldly resonance, grew louder and more insistent, his body trembling with an eerie energy. One of his hands began to hit at the mask in an attempt to stop whatever was causing him so much discomfort.

“Swiss!” Dew shouted, running over to his friend. “Brother, focus! Come back to us! Phantom! Go get help, now!”

Phantom nodded and ran out the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Swiss, it’s me: it’s Dew. What’s wrong, brother?”

“My… head!” Swiss exclaimed through gritted teeth. “It’s in my head!”

You stood up and dressed yourself, making sure that at least your habit was covering you. All the while, you watched as Dew frantically tried to get answers out of his brother, and figure out what went wrong so he could help. Swiss was still screaming, still trying to escape out of Dew’s grasp.

Then silence.

Swiss stood straight. Still. No more screams of pain, no more frantic Dew. You couldn’t even hear the world outside the ritual room. Just maddening silence that could drive a person to insanity if they were in it for too long. Everyone remained unmoving, fearing even breathing in case it triggered something. You wanted to leave, to escape the room and get help - or even just pull your friends out and save them. But your body wouldn’t move. It wouldn’t respond to your brain’s pleas to get the fuck away.

In that chilling moment, a grotesque transformation overtook Swiss. His voice, now distorted and filled with malice, spoke words that were not his own. It was a demon that had taken hold of him, a malefic entity summoned from the abyss.

The demon had been called forth by all of the mistakes made that night. It reveled in the chaos and despair that surrounded it, relishing the opportunity to wreak havoc upon the mortal realm. With Swiss as its vessel, the demon’s power knew no bounds.

The demon’s dark presence continued to grow, casting a sinister pall over the entire Ministry. Outside of the room, a sense of unease began to spread. Siblings and Ghouls alike could feel the malevolence that radiated from the heart of the Ministry, an unnatural darkness that seemed to seep into their very souls. It was as if the very fabric of reality had been torn asunder, and the boundary between the mortal realm and the abyss had grown thin.

Everyone was simply afraid to speak, to move, to even breathe. There was a comfort in the silence that couldn’t be explained other than Swiss hadn’t attacked anyone or made any movements. You weren’t even sure if Swiss was still in there. No one move, no one blink, no one make any sounds.

Swiss moved first - his head shifting from Ghoul to Ghoul to you as though he were studying you all. He seemed more like a caged animal than a human as he weighed up his options, though he wasn’t entirely registering what he was seeing. Each room was designed with at least some kind of demonic suppressor so you knew whoever had stolen Swiss from you didn’t have the full extent of his powers. But as he’d barely done anything, you still couldn’t gauge just how dangerous he was.

Suddenly, Swiss’ eyes locked onto you and focused on nothing else. Your body was still very scantily clad in your habit, your legs fully on display even though you were hiding behind Mountain. Swiss’ mouth curled up into a sinister smile. “He likes you.” Two voices emerged from his throat, the first being Swiss’ sweet timbre, the second the demonic entity inside of him. “I am in his head. I know. I see.” He took a small step forward. “He has sinned against you. He does so nightly.” Another step. “He imagines things in his chambers when he is alone. He wants to bury himself deep inside you. Even today during the ritual, he considered getting on his knees and taking you in front of everyone.” Another step. That was when you all realised the final mistake: you.

Swiss got possessed because he was watching you masturbate in front of him. He got possessed because he was craving your body, your touch. He got possessed because he was concentrating on how you’d feel wrapped around him and didn’t pay attention to the most important things. You never should have been chosen for the ritual. You never should have agreed.

Swiss spoke again. “I think we should give him what he wants, don’t you?”

“You stay away from her!” Dew shouted. He’d gained enough confidence and bravery to step forward, arms outstretched, and ready to restrain Swiss. Or at least attempt to anyway. Dew was much, much smaller than Swiss, so even when he wasn’t possessed by a demonic entity, restraining him alone would have been damn near impossible. But the added power now coursing through Swiss’ human veins made restraint way more difficult.

All Swiss had to do was lift his hand and Dew was levitating from the ground. A simple push saw Dew flying backwards, his head smacking against the wall and his body falling limp to the floor.

“Dew!” Rain shouted. It was a natural reflex done out of fear and it caused him to lurch forward. The demon, presuming Rain had moved to attack him, copied the motion and threw Rain against the wall too, the sweetest of all the Ghouls now unmoving on the other side of the room.

Mountain still held you behind him and for every step the demon took towards you, Mountain moved you backwards. You could tell he was trying to move you towards the door without taking his eyes off of Swiss. But deep down you both knew that while Mountain was a worthy opponent for Swiss, he was no match for the thing possessing him. All Mountain could do was hope that you at least got out of the room safely especially now that the demon had its eyes on you.

“Give her willingly and your life will be spared.” Swiss’ two voices cut through the panicked silence.

“No.” Mountain said.

Swiss raised his hand into a fist and concentrated on Mountain. Mountain, like the others, was now being raised off the ground, but this time Swiss was being torturous, enjoying the pain he was inflicting internally. Mountain grasped at his throat as if a hand had been wrapped around it, and struggled to get air into his lungs. “___,” he choked out, “go!”

Somehow your body responded to the sound of his voice and you made a break for the door. There was a part of you that knew you’d never reach it - that knew you’d end up in a worse fate than your friends, but you still tried anyway. Maybe if you left, you would be able to find more help to bring. Maybe you’d run into Phantom or Papa, just someone who could come and save everyone. You refused to believe that they were all dead - you would have given up if you thought that. So for all the good it did you, you chose to run. You chose to fight as best you could.

Behind you, Mountain’s body thudded to the floor, but you could hear him gasping for breath. Swiss, who was now focussing on you trying to make your escape, didn’t put the full extent of his powers into hurting Mountain as he did Dewdrop and Rain. Mountain was weakened from the impact but he wasn’t unconscious… yet. But now you had no protection - now you were completely vulnerable.

You managed to get the door open, but by then, it was too late, Swiss had already come up behind you and slammed it shut again. His large hands grabbed onto your waist, thick fingers digging into your flesh and manoeuvring you to where he wanted you. Your own back slammed against the door and you were met with Swiss’ cold, unfeeling mask, glass eyepieces only showing a glimpse of the blackened eyes that had completely stripped away the humanity from one of your closest friends. His once beautiful smile brought you nothing but happiness now evil and no doubt the last thing you’d ever see. You struggled, fighting against the unholy strength that had caught you, but of course, you were no match for him - in fact, he seemed to enjoy you struggling. In your frantic movements, your hip grazed his and you felt his cock now standing hard beneath his Ghoulish uniform. You knew what was coming.

He cackled, the two voices giving a creepier edge to something so joyous. His free hand came to remove the helmet and allowed you to gaze at the face that was going to bring you so much pain. His eyes were, indeed, as black as you’d been told. Veins were popping from beneath his skin, no doubt Swiss straining from the inside to expel the demon from within but failing miserably. Even though you could hear it wasn’t Swiss, and you could see the eyes certainly weren’t his, it was so difficult to differentiate between demon and human. Your brain struggled reminding you that Swiss wasn’t the one who’d hurt your friends; that he wasn’t the one rubbing his clothed cock against your thigh; that his hand wasn’t squeezing one of your soft breasts so painfully hard; that it wasn’t his tongue licking a stripe from your neck to your ear.

You pushed against his large chest trying to distance yourself, but it was as if you were trying to move the Ministry itself. He wasn’t budging. “Get. Off. Me!” You grunted in your exertion.

“This Ghoul wants you - you would deny him? You would deny him after the show you put on for him?”

“There was no show!”

“Really? Because you angled your body to give him the perfect view of,” the hand that was on your breast now moved to your crotch and gripped your vulva tightly - so tightly you screamed, “this cunt. You wanted him to touch you. You were asking for him to take you. Begging for it, were you not?”

“I wasn’t!”

“Lying whore!” He slapped your face hard enough to leave a mark, the bite knocking you off kilter for a second and making the room spin. He grasped hold of your cheeks and forced you to look at him. He took his opportunity to kiss you, forcefully pressing his mouth to yours and using his tongue to lick over your unresponsive lips. Taking this opportunity, you kneed him in his crotch now extra sensitive from all the blood that had pooled there. This gave you enough respite from his attack to push him away from you and attempt an escape. The door was locked shut this time, though. And it didn’t matter anyway, he was faster than you thought.

His thick forearm wrapped around your neck and pulled your body flush against his. “You like pain, hm?” This time, when he spoke, he used only Swiss’ voice. He tightened his arm and began cutting off the air supply to your lungs. “You want me to make it hurt?”

“Swiss!” You choked from his anaconda-like grasp. “Stop!”

“He cannot help you now, little one. But I have made sure he can see everything.”

With one hand on your shoulder, he released you from his chokehold long enough to push you hard to the ground. As you stumbled and collapsed, you felt the skirt of your habit rising up over your bare ass cheeks, which earned another menacing snicker from the demon. “Look at you. The little Jezebel is ready for her master’s cock.”

“No!”

You got onto your hands and knees ready to stand and run, but you felt Swiss’ boot on your exposed backside and stamping you back down flush to the floor. Wasting no more time or effort, he straddled your hips to keep you pinned down and pressed his entire weight onto you. Over the sound of your struggling, you heard his jeans zipper undoing.

“Still some energy in you, I see.” He taunted as he placed his hands where his thighs were and moved further down your body, still fighting you. “I wonder how long that will last.”

You braved a look behind you to see if there was anything further you could do, but caught a glimpse of what Swiss was sporting under his clothes. Now he was fully exposed, you truly saw his length and girth for what it was and dread pooled in your stomach. The pain you were about to feel was beyond terrifying.

“Which hole should we rape?” Swiss asked, lining himself up with your ass and rubbing against the rim. “This one?”

“No! Please! Let me go!”

“Or this one?” He then rubbed over the entrance to your cunt and gasped. “She is wet! The whore is ready to accept Satan’s gift! She wants it even though she deludes herself otherwise.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Ghoul, which hole do you fantasize about the most, hm? Which one do you want us to rape today?” There was silence for a moment and you could swear you heard Swiss’ screams - similar screams to when he was first possessed. “Her tight, little cunt hm?”

He lined up once more with your hole, and you tried again to escape from underneath him. “Swiss! Please stop! Please! No!” Your wriggling proved useless when you felt him press inside you.

The pain was beyond anything you’d felt before, a searing white hot pain that shot through your entire body and only continued the more of him entered you. He wasn’t gentle with his movements, as expected from a demon. He bottomed out almost immediately, hitting your cervix roughly and causing you to scream. “He was right,” Swiss said, “you do feel incredible. This hole was made for cock, no wonder he spent all his time drooling over you.” He pulled out and thrust back in laughing at your pain-filled scream. “I have kept him awake so that he can remember this gift the Unholy Father has bestowed. More material for him to think about in the darkness of his room.”

“Please, stop!” Your voice was high pitched now and tears were staining your cheeks as your hands covered your mouth to muffle your cries. Your distraught sobs caught the demon’s attention, however, and he wanted his gratification.

He wrapped Swiss’ hand in your hair and tugged your face off the floor. Your mouth was hung open from your weeping and your screams escaped every time he thrust in and hit your cervix. “That is right, scream for him. Let him know how good you feel on his cock.” The sound of your cunt swallowing him made him speed up his movements, entirely enthralled by your body accepting him properly. “Show him how you love being raped by his fat cock.”

“P-please stop!”

He groaned. “Keep begging for me to stop. Keep crying for me. You get tighter every. Single. Time.” He thrust between each word, getting rougher and rougher with you.

With his hand in your hair, your head was lifted and you could look around the room. As your body was pushed along the floor by the power of his hips, your tears blurred your vision but you could still see your friends laying lifeless in front of you - spread in all manner of ways. None of them could save you. None of them could help you. If they were even alive. Your thoughts turned to Phantom, outside of this room searching for someone to come and exorcise the demon back to Hell. Your fear became overpowering at the thought of the sweet newcomer walking in and seeing you pinned beneath Swiss, being raped by someone you all used to love and trust. Would anyone else understand that this wasn’t Swiss hurting you? Would Swiss even survive the exorcism?

In a moment of adrenaline from the fear you felt, you shifted your body using all the strength you could muster. You wrapped your legs around his calves, swung your arm to hit his face and proceeded to turn as if you were about to lie on your back. Swiss didn’t anticipate this and so slipped out of you for a brief moment, falling off of you. Wasting no time, your weak legs forced you onto your feet and you ran towards the door once more. Your brain was clearer than before allowing you to unlock the door this time. But as you opened it, once again, Swiss pushed it closed.

“Clearly I have not broken you yet.”

By the collar of your habit, he pulled you back to give him the space to stand in front of you. His hand, now tightly closed in a fist, backhanded your cheek and all you saw was black.

When you came to, your jaw ached so badly. Your vision was blurred and it took a while to come to. Your hands were held above your head as you lay on your back, a large hand holding them together and restraining you. As your head was turned to its side, you saw Mountain and Rain laying next to each other, still entirely unconscious and unmoving. But you were still being attacked.

Now that you were pinned to the floor, and had been out for you didn’t know how long, Swiss had chance to fully savour you. Your habit had been torn town the middle, exposing you completely to the demonic eyes you were now staring into, those very eyes entranced by the way your breasts bounced from the roughness of his thrusts. His cock was now spearing into you much harder than before, the position allowing him to fuck into you deeper. His pubic mound was grinding against your clit as he pounded away, and for the first time that night you were feeling pleasure with the pain.

“I knew you wanted this.” Swiss said from above you upon hearing the small pleasured whimper that escaped you. “I knew you were a whore who loved getting raped. How you would spread your legs for anyone who offered you a bit of attention. I am not wrong, am I?” You moaned again accidentally, this time louder. “Say it. Tell me how much you love it. Tell him that you love it when he rapes you.” When you didn’t obey, he wrapped his hands around your throat. “Say it!”

“I love it!” You shouted reluctantly. “I love being raped!”

Somehow this wasn’t a lie. Since waking up, every hit against your cervix, every drag of his cock against your walls felt delicious. The demonic black of his eyes, the thick hands that held you down had you spreading your legs wider to let him continue abusing your hole. You were getting wetter and wetter with each thrust, more desperate to cum than ever before. You fear dissipated and was replaced with nothing but cock. The weight of it driving you crazy, the way he used you for his own pleasure and revelled in your agony. How he lowered himself to lick your tears away and bury himself inside you over and over again.

“There you go. That was not difficult. You got so much tighter too.”

Your screams turned from pain to desperation. Your mouth hung open in a perfect O. His cock had broken you, stripped you of everything and turned you into his own, personal toy. You sat up as much as you could to see where you both were connected. You saw the base of his cock was rimmed with white where your wetness had turned to cream and stuck in his pubic hairs. Each pull out of you had multiple strings of your own juices forming and snapping. You could feel yourself spilling out of your hole and running down your body, gathering on the wooden floor below you. Fuck! It felt so fucking good.

“Will you cum on his cock? Will you cum on the cock that rapes you?”

“Yes!” You screamed looking back up into his eyes. “I’m gonna c-cum! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna-!”

The door opened right as your orgasm hit, your mind clouding over and drool dripping from your mouth as you came all over Swiss’ cock. The last thing you remember seeing was Papa Copia’s eyes look into yours in horror as you came like a desperate whore while your close friend took you against your will. Then the world went black.

When you came to, your eyes refused to open at first. Your head was pounding from the physical trauma and there was a deep-seated pain in your core that sent stabbing pains through your legs every time you moved them.You groaned and tried to sit up but your body refused to respond. The heart monitor beside you kept bleeping letting you know that you were, in fact, alive, but also that you were currently in the infirmary. But there was another sound coming from the foot of your incredibly uncomfortable bed. When your eyes finally opened it took you a while to fully process what you were seeing.

Swiss.

In a moment of pure fear, you panicked and tried to move further up the bed, as far away from him as you possibly could. You could feel a scream building in your throat, but your jaw hurt you too much to move it. Even still, your fear didn’t care. Swiss’ eyes were back to normal, and glassy with unshed tears. His face, pale and sickly, stained with the tears he had cried. He looked awful - his veins tinted a little black from the pressure of the demon inhabiting his body.

“Please, don’t scream!” He said quickly. “It’s me again. The demon’s gone.” You wanted to open your mouth and ask him what he was doing there, but your jaw wouldn’t move. “Your jaw isn’t broken, but it’s badly bruised from where I…” He started crying again, burying his head on your bed. “I’m so fucking sorry!” He wept hard, your heart breaking for him every time you saw his shoulders violently shake. “I hurt you so b-bad. I’m so sorry! I d-didn’t want to do any of th-those things. I tried - I tried to stop but it was t-too… strong. It w-wasn’t me!”

Deep down you knew it wasn’t. You knew Swiss would never hurt you like that because he never had. He’d never shown that level of ferocity and violence to anyone or anything. He was the kindest soul in the Ministry - a ray of sunlight the morning after a storm. Before all of this, you would have trusted him with anything, your life included. But even though reason told you he wasn’t the monster that attacked you, your brain still registered him as the attacker. When you saw his eyes before he hid them, you could have sworn for a brief moment they were still black. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him that it was okay and you forgave him even though there wasn’t anything to forgive. But there was such a hesitation. An annoying voice in the back of your head saying “what if”? What if that really was him? What if they didn’t exorcise the demon out? They must have otherwise he’d be in chains in the dungeons right now. So, you reached your hand out and touched his head, gently stroking at his hair. Tears were falling down your face too as your brain replayed the trauma.

When you both had calmed down a little, and Swiss was no longer hiding his face from you, you both sat in silence staring at each other. You were studying his face for imperfections and signals that he was unsafe, and he was studying yours for any hints of fear that should tell him he needed to go. “I know it’s selfish of me being here.” He said. “It only happened yesterday. I’m not supposed to be here. Papa’s going to come and talk to you when you’re feeling stronger, he wants you to decide my punishment.”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to punish him.

“Everyone else is fine. Dew has a broken shoulder but he’ll live. Rain has concussion. Mountain’s up and out of the infirmary with no problems at all.” Your mind cast itself back to yesterday, watching Swiss barrel through them and throw them around like children’s toys. How helpless you felt when he was inside you and they were all in the room, knocked out from his attack. How none of them helped you.

“I shouldn’t have come but I needed to see you. I feel so guilty. I…” he hesitated. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. I felt everything the de- he did to you. I heard everything, saw everything, felt everything. And you felt so… especially when… fuck! I know I shouldn’t but I keep remembering and my body reacts. I’ve used my hand so many times since but nothing compares to… I need it. I need you. One more time. Please.”

There was a feeling of dread pooling in your stomach again but you could understand where he was coming from. Since you’d been awake and your mind was showing you the images from yesterday, you were also losing your mind. You remembered everything in graphic detail, especially how good it felt when you woke up on the floor. Arousal began to replace the dread and your thighs rubbed together, making you hiss in pain. But the pain and the arousal seemed to control you, and for some reason unbeknownst to you, you nodded your head.

Swiss didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled back the comforter and climbed onto the bed. He lifted up the infirmary nightgown you were wearing and exposed your abused hole to him. You could see his cock tenting through his own nightgown at the sight of you. You were so broken and vulnerable, and it did things to him he knew he’d feel guilty for later on. But he just couldn’t resist any longer. It was like he was addicted to you. To it. “I can’t promise I’ll be gentle.” He told you. He lifted your gown further up to expose your breasts again before pulling himself free and lining himself up. You wanted to tell him to not be gentle, to disrespect you like he had yesterday, but the words couldn’t come out.

Pushing into you, you felt the same searing pain you felt the first time he did. You were so under prepared yesterday and even more so today. But after a few uncomfortable thrusts, the pleasure returned once more, and your hands, now finally responding, flew to his shoulders and grasped on, digging your nails into his skin.

His mouth had hung open and his own grunts and moans were escaping as he lost himself in the pleasure and the memory of your fear. You were deprived of this yesterday - and you were convinced that if you’d heard how good he felt, you’d have given up fighting long before you did.

“You feel even better than yesterday.” He muttered. His thrusts got rougher and you could feel the infirmary bed moving beneath you, groaning at the weight and the intense movement. “I kept thinking about how wet you got. The way you creamed on my fucking cock. I came twice to that thought alone. Fuck!”

Though your jaw was in pain, you were still able to whimper from the feeling of his fat cock railing you in a similar fashion to yesterday. Your own noises kept spurring him on.

“And when you screamed, yelling out how much you loved me raping you. Fucking hell. I want to hear it again. I want to hear you beg me to rape you over and fucking over. I want to keep you speared on my cock and make you cum on it because I just won’t stop raping you.”

You tightened at the thought, which made him let out a particularly loud moan.

“You want that, too?”

You nodded.

“Fuck. You want me to turn you into a little fucking rape toy, hm? A fuck-slut that’s only good for taking my fucking cum against her will. Have you beg me to stop while also sucking my cock back into your little hole.”

You dug your nails in again which prompted his hips to smack forward and whack your cervix.

“I’ll do it. Shit. I’ll find you when you’re out of the infirmary and I’ll force you to the fucking floor. I’ll take what I want from you when I want. You want that?”

You nodded.

“Fucking hell, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum again. I came inside you yesterday too. They had a hard time pulling me off you. I just kept holding onto your hips and railing you into the floor. I’m gonna keep doing it now. Use you as my fucking cum receptacle. Rape a baby into you too. Show everyone who this hole belongs to.”

You tightened and moaned again.

“I went feral when they pulled me off of you and I saw my cum spilling out. Proof that I’d - fuck I’m cu-cumming!”

Once again he pushed himself as far into you as he possibly could and stilled, painting your walls with his seed.

No one else had ever made you feel that good before. The fact that he was recreating the shared trauma also did things to you that you couldn’t quite explain. You knew he was suffering as much as you were, that the guilt was eating away at him in the same way the fear was. Maybe that was why you willingly spread your legs for him this time, because you needed someone who knew to make you feel good.

When he’d finished, he watched himself spilling out of you. “Fuck…” he lamented. “No tissues. You didn’t cum.”

You wanted to tell him not to bother, that a nurse might show up midway through. You knew how bad it would look that the man who’d raped you had come back for seconds not twenty-four hours after the incident. But even if you could speak, he wouldn’t listen.

He bent down and placed his tongue in your hole, licking his cum out of you. He swirled his tongue around your cunt, trying to find the parts of you that would tip you over the edge. Once he’d determined that you were clean enough, he moved up to your clit and sucked. Hard. It was like he knew that his treatment of you yesterday meant that you needed it rough today too, and so he did his best to deliver. He didn’t let up until you came on his face, your own juices spilling out of you. You did your best to muffle the scream that was threatening to come out of you as you tipped over the edge, hyper-aware of the fact that a nurse could come rushing in to make sure you were okay. Swiss knew this too and so finished up as quickly as he possibly could.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You nodded and watched him press a kiss to your temple, completely juxtaposing his treatment of you both yesterday and today before making his exit back to his own ward.

You watched him leave and let your eyes wander around the room. That was when you noticed it and froze in panic. There was a security camera in the top corner of the room… and it had just captured everything.

Kinktober: Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

Hellish Delights:

Masterlist ⛧ Hellish Delights Masterlist

Previous Part ⛧ Next Part

375 notes · View notes

p1nkcanoe · 8 months

Note

NSFW prompt for you based on that tag about Swiss giving good jfk

Swiss gives someone of your choice good jfk (maybe on the tour bus? in front of everyone? after a show?)

Love you bye 🫶

Swiss will not keep his hands to himself. He’s got something on his mind for sure. He’d stared at Phantom throughout the entirely of the night’s ritual from his platform, had glued his hands to Phantom’s waist and the small of his back during bows, and had practically dragged the ghoul to the dressing room afterwards to smother him with his lips and grope at sweaty skin until the door opened and the rest of their pack had filed in. And now, sitting on the bus, he still won’t stop staring at him like he wants to eat him alive.

They’re far apart, not by either of their choices, and Phantom leans his head in his palm against the nice leather arm of the couch. His muscles are tired and tight with exhaustion and the soft rumble of the bus as it flies down the interstate adds weight to his eyelids that struggle to stay open. It’s too early for sleep–he knows this–but the drone of everyone’s voices and the hum of the engine are lulling him to an early bedtime. Phantom tries to stay awake. He lifts his head up, repositions his body to a position less comfortable, and tries to blink the sleep away, and everytime he looks up he makes eye contact with those piercing, golden eyes across the bus.

For a short moment he looks back, holds his gaze the best he can to make sure the ghoul isn’t trying to get his attention, but Swiss doesn’t look away. He doesn’t change his position or make any sort of move, just stares with those beautiful eyes that make Phantom’s knees weak. But truly, Phantom is a sleepy ghoul. He breaks the gaze between them to allow his eyelids to fall again and his head to meet his palm, and when he finally begins to succumb to sleep he hears movement from somewhere on the bus and then feels hands at his belt.

He cracks an eye open to find the ghoul squatted on one knee.

“Oh–Swiss–What’re you–Oh–!”

Swiss pulls his dick, mortifyingly soft, from his pants and spits messily over the tip before taking the ghoul wholly into his mouth and swirling his tongue. Phantom shoots up at the very sudden and very unexpected stimulation, his hands flying to the back of Swiss’ shirt and bunching as much of the fabric in his fists as he can reach for some sort of hold on him. His face burns hot with embarrassment and he doubles over the top of the ghoul’s head in an attempt to hide himself and make himself smaller. The sudden movement and pressure to the back of Swiss’ head pushes him further down and Phantom chokes on his own saliva, coughing and sputtering and adding to the redness flooding under his skin.

Everybody is staring–he can feel their eyes burning into him. And he really can’t blame them, if it was anyone else in his current position he’d probably be staring, too. But right now, suddenly the center of attention, he isn’t sure he wants this attention. “Fuck, fuck, fuck–” he gasps and raises up just enough to crane his neck downwards and catch a glimpse of the ghoul in his lap. Swiss sucks at him hard, brings a hand up to dig into the fly of his pants and play with his balls as if they’re not surrounded by their entire pack and also very publicly in the center of the bus. He scrambles at the back of Swiss’ head with shaking hands and digs his fangs into his lip.

Phantom doesn’t think he’s ever been so mortified in his entire existence. He can’t look up past the top of Swiss’ head; making eye contact with anyone right now would probably kill him. But he can’t deny it feels fucking good. Swiss is a master with his mouth, everybody knows it, and he’s getting so hard so quick with the combination of dopamine and adrenaline running through his veins. He pulls at dense curls and shakes his head, tries to pull the ghoul off his dick, but Swiss is steadfast on giving him head he won’t ever forget.

Phantom folds over his head again, tries to curtain away his dick with his body when Swiss starts bobbing his head, making little choked sounds deep in the back of his throat with how dedicated he sucks him down. He can only endure. He feels everything–the burning of everyone’s eyes, the heat and slickness of Swiss’ mouth, the kneading on his balls–and hears everything too. Hears the clicks and wet noises as his tip punches the back of his throat over and over and over again, and hears the comments and snickering from his packmates as they watch their free show. He tries to ignore it, tries to enjoy the feeling, because yeah, it feels good, but why did he have to do this here and now?

Claws dig deep and tight into ebony colored curls when Swiss’ tongue swirls skillfully around his tip and then drags back and forth through his slit. Lightning shoots down his spine and settles hot in his belly and he accidently lets a breathy moan slip past his lips that causes someone to his right to chuckle and Swiss to drop his head halfway down his shaft. He moans around him, sending vibrations through his cock and Phantom groans, melts into the back of the couch and covers his face with his hands. Swiss hollows his cheeks, sucks so good that Phantom thinks he’s trying to suck any remnants of a soul out of his dick.

“Oh no,” he spits through gritted teeth. His body buckles on him. “Oh no, oh– fuck– i’m gonna…” He spills quick and hot down Swiss’ throat and Swiss thanks him with an irregular pattern of squeezes to his balls followed by a gorgeous moan that turns Phantom’s cheeks impossibly more red. He tries so hard to stifle the whine that bubbles in his throat but Swiss’ work on his dick is way too good and he slips anyways, whines high and strained into his palms. He knows he’s bringing more attention to himself but he can’t help it. He’ll get Swiss back some way or another for this.

Swiss takes all of him once more before raising up and off with a pop that makes Phantom gasp in sudden overstimulation. His dick twitches, jerks when Swiss pulls his hand out of his pants and wipes his mouth on the back of it so nonchalantly that Phantom frowns. He scrambles to tuck his softening cock away as Swiss pushes himself up to his feet, stretches his hands above his head and groans as his muscles pull back out. Phantom still can’t look at anyone. He can see Dew’s hand out of the corner of his eye, rubbing and pulling at himself hard through the fabric of his navy blue sweats. It feels like all of the oxygen has been sucked from the room.

“Damn, Swiss, can I get one of those too?”

“Nah,” Swiss says. His voice is fucked. He steps between Phantom’s feet and grabs the ghoul by the front of his shirt. He yelps. “I’m not done with this one yet.”

#p1nk ficlet #swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul #swiss x phantom

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politemenacephd · 3 months

Text

Monster!Miguel Vol. 2 (+18)

Ghoul!Miguel O'Hara X GN!Reader Tokyo Ghoul/ATSV Crossover

Masterlist

CW: Blood, Mentions of cannibalism, reader has a vagina.

Content: Established relationship, Oral (reader recieving), Tentacle play, Tentacle penetration, Multiple orgasms, PinV sex, Biting/Consensual blood drinking. Notes: This was my first request! I really hope i did this right, I haven't watched TG in like. over a decade lmao so I did my best, enjoy

‘You can eat me.’

In your bedroom, in the dark, those words hung heavy in the air. They seemed to reverberate long after they’d been said. You swallowed hard and repeated them: ‘You can eat me.’

There was no light in here, spare the faint glow of a streetlamp filtering in through your half-done blinds, and from the safety of your mattress you watched as that cold, white light illuminated the contours of the man sitting at the end of your bed. That muscled creature with the red eyes.

You saw something snaking in the shadows at his back. You heard it slithering.

You should have been terrified, but you weren’t. In fact, your dynamic was strangely flipped. You were calm, collected, while the man before you was anything but. He was the one who looked terrified.

‘No, no’ he repeated. His voice was low.

‘It’s okay’ you repeated. ‘I understand. I understand.’

‘No!’

He raised his voice but immediately doubled over, almost as if some invisible force had punched him in the gut. You could see the pain he was in. The way he kept wincing, even in this dull light. The pain in his eyes was unmistakable. It was that migraine, the start of the feeding frenzy.

You’d been seeing Miguel in secret for some time now, enough that you’d seen this many times before. Every time he’d found a way to stave it off. Blood bags, donated organs, forcing himself to eat that synthetic flesh. Now, though, he was in trouble. He had nowhere else to go.

He needed to eat, and you knew that he could only consume one thing: humans. Your blood, your flesh, your bones, anything you made would do, but it had to be that. It had to be you.

And it could be, because despite your fear, you loved him. You wanted him to survive.

‘If you don’t eat, you’ll do something you regret’ you insisted.

‘Not you’ he repeated.

‘Why not me?’

Your soft platitudes turned to a choke as you saw the man before you reared up to his full glory. His eyes were ringed with black, the red pupils the only clear light. That bloody glow reflected off of every contour on his upper body. You saw the strength, the scars, the sheer size. You saw the faint glimmer of a fang in his mouth as he sneered.

The slithering at his back suddenly settled, and in the dim light you could now see what it was. Eight, slippery, blood-red tendrils, four on each side of his back, long and sharp like a spider’s legs. He suddenly dug them down into the floor on either side of the bed, and with unnerving ease he used them to lift his body.

He reared up and lifted himself onto the bed, his body fully eclipsing yours as he lay across you. You whimpered and flattered yourself to the sheets. His breath hit your cheek; it was hot, and smelled strangely metallic.

‘You know I want to, right?’ he murmured. You felt his breath move from your face to your neck, right over the jugular. When you swallowed his lips could feel your throat moving.

‘I want to—taste you.’

His voice was hoarse and husky. He sounded parched.

‘I know’ you whispered.

‘I think about it, all the time’ he insisted, his hunger clear. You saw the moonlight glinting off of the drool dripping down his jaw. ‘You must be- delicious.’

You shuddered as he licked your neck, one clean move from collar to jaw. His tongue was unnervingly sharp compared to a human, almost cat-like in texture, but the spit he left on your skin was warm and soothing.

A car drove past outside, briefly highlighting the ecstasy on his face. You watched through the haze of neon pink light as he licked his bottom lip. He opened his mouth, and you closed your eyes.

‘But if I ate you, what would be the point?’

Slowly, you re-opened your eyes again. He hadn’t moved. Miguel was looking down with a dreamy gaze, his upper arms shaking as his kagune whipped violently at his back.

‘That would be it. The high point of my life. You would be gone, and I’d never get to taste you again’ he whined. ‘I can’t waste you.’

‘Do it slowly then’ you whispered.

‘You are not—helping’ he rasped. He sucked in air through his teeth as he fought the urge to just sink down on your soft little neck, feeling the sweet, warm taste fill his mouth.

‘Just… okay, what about something small?’ you asked. That certainly seemed to draw him back, as his eyes darted across your body and face.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I can—give you something small.’ You pointed to your wrist, your foot, whatever you could think of in the moment. ‘I can… give you something small, to tide you over.’

Your unending loyalty to him almost brought him to his knees.

He was wracked with that insatiable lust. How could he possibly turn it down? How could he fight the urge to have you so permanently?

The love of a predator for its prey. The need to consume you in every possible sense. Your tears, your words, your blood, your bones, to be inside you and to have you inside him. How beautiful. How honest. How vile.

‘Perhaps, just—a little, blood, could… No. No. First, I want to, try something’ he said gently.

You nodded, eager to do anything to soothe that pain. ‘Yes. Yes, of course, do you—’

‘Take your panties off.’

You froze, still vulnerable on your back with his body planking over your own. You looked up into those ferocious eyes and felt your mouth moving, though no sound came out.

‘W-What?’

‘Take your panties off’ he repeated in that husky voice, ‘take them off, and lie down for me. No moving. If I get too excited, I could—’

‘I know’ you murmured. ‘I-I know the drill.’

Until now you’d only even engaged physically in small ways to avoid setting him off. Using hands, fingers, sparing kisses to stave off the heat. But, he’d never seen you naked before.

Shyly you stripped your panties down. In your bed you were wearing only an oversized shirt and them to cover yourself, so as soon as they were gone you almost fully bare. You felt tingles as the cold air hit you; you were, embarrassingly, already a little wet.

Miguel bobbed his head, gesturing for you to lie down. You did as told.

‘Stay, still’ he repeated. You felt your body tense.

With painful deliberation Miguel used his clawed hands to split your legs apart, fully spreading you before his eager eyes. You couldn’t help it; a whimper escaped your lips. He seemed to enjoy it.

You watched him tilt his head, admiring the barely visible view.

And then, slowly, his head went down. You watched his mouth and nose disappear as he lowered them to your spread sex, his hands still gripped tight to your thighs to keep them apart. You felt just the faintest flicker of fear then.

Miguel lay himself down until he was comfortable. He breathed you in with unabashed perversion, letting your scent fill his sinuses, before coyly opening his mouth. His lips parted and his tongue crept out, and after a moment of hesitation, it brushed your clit.

You jolted violently the moment you felt him. He had to pin you down to stop you moving.

‘Shh, shh. Still’ he barked. He didn’t want the temptation to go further. You panted as you lay back, forcing yourself to be as still as you could. His tongue went back and you bit your lip.

It was so hard to stay put. His tongue was so wet but so rough, and you were incredibly sensitive. You had to lie in absolute stillness as his tongue wound its way through your folds, as his lips kissed and sucked on your clit, as he dared to even push it up inside you.

You felt the cold when he moved, leaving behind his wet little trails of spit. You felt yourself pulsing with fear and excitement.

It didn’t take long for him to get what he wanted. You were inexperienced, and the soft stimulation was too much for your throbbing clit. All too soon you orgasmed in his grip, cumming hard on his tongue as he licked you out.

You stifled your own screams with your hand. You stifled the violent shudders your body was begging to release as it was rapturously filled with that white-hot pleasure, but Miguel wasn’t concerned with that anymore.

He put his tongue inside you as you came, and he licked. He licked up everything he could.

He was after your slick, your taste. He was playing with his food. Like a cat with a mouse in his paws, he let you squirm.

But, it was helping. It was tiding him over. It wasn’t quite flesh but it was sating some of his obsessive hunger. It tasted good. He lapped up your slick and felt that familiar joy at feeding, and even once you’d collapsed back into the sheets he continued.

He continued to lick. He pushed for one more taste.

‘Give me more—please—please—’

You jolted as one of his long, slippery kagune tentacles slithered down and between your legs, sliding under his wet jaw to probe at your cunt. You squirmed a little at the sensation; it wasn’t like anything you’d felt before, more like a tongue than an appendage, with its surface obscenely velvety and smooth.

With a wet squelch it slipped inside you, gently stretching you out. You cried out in shock.

‘More—’

With his long organ now pumping inside you he began to manipulate it against your g-spot, pushing and sliding and coiling until you squirmed. He pushed you until you squirted.

‘Ah—yes, yes—’

He greedily lapped up your slick with his tongue, his body practically shaking as it dripped down his lips and jaw. ‘Yes’ he repeated in a dreamy voice, ‘yes, yes.’

Your body was overwhelmed with pleasure, to the point that you had gone limp in his grip. All you could feel was the slippery conjoined heat of his tongue and kagune aggressively licking and nestling at your pussy, drawing out as much as they could.

‘Tastes so—good—’

One of his other eight kagune slipped up and under your shirt to cup your nipple, eager to stimulate you more. He needed you to gush. He needed you to fill his mouth.

You whimpered, your lips trembling as he held you down. You could feel it moving inside you, not just back and forth but swirling and shifting like a tongue, pushing in deep enough to kiss your cervix. You bucked your hips as it started to nestle in at every spot inside you.

‘Come on… come on…’ Miguel hissed. His tongue hit your clit right as his soft appendage squished at your g-spot, forcing you to cum and squirt for a second time.

He lapped at it desperately, even pulling his kagune out halfway just to lick that too. You whined at the sudden feeling of emptiness as it slid out and drooped, its red surface utterly saturated.

Miguel was fixated on it. The pearly strings dripping and hanging from it, the way it was pulsing softly against your hole as you clenching and twitched. He tasted every bit of it before burying himself back into the sweet nook of your clit.

‘So—delicious—‘

You weren’t sure how many times he forced you to cum for him. It could have been six, or eight? Maybe even ten? You lost count.

He refused to let you go, keeping your body flat on its back and permanently filled with his softly pulsing organs, his weapons, now being used to gently fuck you into submission.

He was practically milking you for orgasms, like livestock in his hands.

You had promised to let him eat you, though. Really, what could you have expected.

‘A-Ah… aha—’ You were struggling to control yourself at this point. You were spasming slightly with each suck, and every time his tendrils wriggled inside you, you felt a little more lightheaded. You were overstimulated to the max.

He let you shudder into another orgasm with nought but a weak and shaky whimper, and at last he withdrew from your body. He licked what he could from your cunt and thighs and from his own appendage before moving back up to your head.

‘May I have your hand, please?’ he purred. You were too weak to raise your hand, but he saw it trembling and went to lift it himself. He held your wrist delicately up to his mouth, and with his fangs he gently pierced the skin between your thumb and finger.

You moaned as he started to suck on the cut he’d made, drawing out a small stream of blood to satiate the last of that hunger. Your eyes fluttered shut.

That was, until he tapped your thigh. You gasped and shuddered back into wakefulness, only to find that Miguel had stripped his own boxers down and was resting his hefty, erect cock on your thigh. His cold red eyes peered down at you in the dark.

‘Mmf…’

He gently started to grind on you, a silent plead for more affection. He wanted all of you.

Shakily, you nodded. ‘Y-Yes, yes. You can- You can have me’ you panted.

Miguel’s eyes narrowed as he shifted your hips. With your hand still in his mouth he positioned himself, and with his own copious spit as lube he started roughly thrusting his own thick cock inside your overstimulated cunt. You could feel it pulsing deep, desperately punching at your cervix.

‘A-Ah… M-Miguel’ you panted. He kept pumping, his eyes dreamy and soft, his lips now stained as he continued to suck what he could.

‘Mmf… Mmfff…’

Between the pleasure and the pain you were lost. You were so unbearably overstimulated, and after the soft dexterity of the kagune tendril it was quite the shock to now be penetrated by something so hard and firm. It pulsed the same, gently smearing you in his pre-cum as he fucked you raw. Somehow, that rhythmic pumping began to relax you once more.

With a moan you lay back, and you let him satiate his multi-layered hunger with your body.

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