thinking about the "pressed together in a too small place" trope with Gale hghgh poor man would be sweating up a storm and losing his mind trying to will away his boner. probably cracking jokes trying to ease the tension but they fall completely flat bc 1. his voice is super rushed and breathy and 2. that boner willing-away is failing miserably. and oh nooooo you try to wiggle around to make things more comfortable and now you can feel his hard dick pulsing against you. he'd apologize profusely and try to defuse the tension with another quip but another wiggle from you and he's whining and babbling for you to please stay still, even as his own hips are pressing more firmly against you, begging for more
EDIT: the amazingly talented @senualothbrok has provided us with food!
You have trouble falling asleep and tend to pick up potions of sleep when you can. A few sips around bedtime knocks you out and helps you be well rested in the morning. You recently finished off a bottle so when you and the gang are looting some crates, you pocket a fresh potion of the creamy lilac concoction.
Fast forward to that night. You stayed up a bit later than you intended, looking over some new scrolls and books you'd picked up that day, and decide you need a little sleep aid. You take a swig of your new potion and settle down in your tent for bed. But sleep doesn't take you. Instead, your breasts start aching. For a few moments you think that maybe your period is coming earlier than thought, but the ache keeps growing deeper, and when you go to feel your tits, you notice that they feel uncomfortably tight...full. And as you squeeze them, you feel dampness against your palms.
Confused, scared, and fighting the first inklings of panic, you grab the potion and stumble out of your tent. Luckily, you're not the only night owl and can see the warm glow of a candle from Gale's tent.
You announce your presence and he welcomes you inside, closing a book of his own and sitting up as you duck into his tent and close the flap for privacy. His pleasant smile immedately falls as he sees your worried face.
You quickly explain about the potion, how it might have been contaminated or perhaps spoiled. Gale takes the bottle and swirls the contents before uncorking it and giving it a sniff. He frowns.
"It uses some similar ingredients to a potion of sleep, so it's viscosity and smell are quite similar...but I believe I know what this is." He looks at you evenly before asking, "Did you take it?"
You nod, and Gale sighs from his nose.
"What sort of symptoms are you experiencing?"
It's a bit embarassing to admit, but you tell him, and he sighs again. You can see that he's not happy with the development and you quickly apologize for the hassle. His face changes then and he waves his hands in front of himself.
"No, no, it's not you, dear. It was an easy mistake to make. It's just that...How do I put this."
He takes in a deep breath and motions for you to sit next to him. You do, and he continues speaking, his voice slow and careful.
"That potion is used for mothers who are having troubles... shall we say, producing. It stimulates the breast tissue and...well, I'm sure you've realized."
Oh gods. You look down at your night shirt, seeing the small wet spots around your nipples. You look back at Gale (just as he looks away--it seems he was staring at your chest as well) and you ask what you should do.
Gale clears his throat. "Massaging the area will help, but to extract everything...you wouldn't happen to know a hungry baby, would you?"
You know he's trying to crack a silly joke, but it only makes tears spring to your eyes. Gale flounders, his hands fluttering around like scared birds before one lands on your thigh.
"Don't despair, dear. I'll...I know it may be a tad unorthodox, but if you'll let me..."
You tell him you don't care what he does, as long as it fixes your problem. You see Gale's jaw flex. He seems to be calculating something in his head before he nods curtly.
"I'll take care of it, don't you worry. Here, lay down for me."
He quickly grabs some pillows and arranges them comfortably on the ground and you lean back, the pillows propping you up in a half-lounging position.
He scoots close to you, his hands going to the buttons of your shirt before he looks up at you with those big brown eyes, silently asking your permission. You can feel your cheeks flush as you nod. He begins unfastening the buttons from the bottom, and with shaking hands, you start from the top, meeting him in the middle. Your shirt falls open, and your breasts are on full display in the candlelight, visibly tight and full, your nipples hard and wet with smeared milk.
"Do they hurt?" He asks, voice a hush in the night air.
You nod, fighting the urge to close your shirt as Gale stares.
"I won't massage them just yet, then. We need to extract some of the, erm, fluid first." He wettens his bottom lip and scoots a bit closer to you. "Do you understand what I need to do?"
It seems that he's just as nervous about this as you are-- you know what he's getting at, but neither of you seem brave enough to say it out loud. Instead, you nod your head and tell him to do whatever he needs to.
He nods and starts lowering his head hesitantly. "I know it's going to feel odd, but it's necessary."
You return the nod and fight back a shiver as you feel the warmth of his breath against your nipple. You look away just as his lips meet the swollen bud and bite your lip to stop any involuntary noises from leaving you. The feeling of his hot lips closing around your nipple and then the velvet wetness of his tongue cupping around it has heat flooding your stomach and cheeks.
He starts with a light suction, your nipple gently pulled into his mouth. You can feel the milk leaving you as he begins suckling, hot spurts that provide an almost instant relief in your aching breast.
You let out a soft sigh and Gale releases your nipple and looks up at you, his cheeks rosy and eyes darker than usual.
"You alright?"
You apologize and ensure him it's fine, telling him that it feels surprisingly good before realizing what you said and stumbling over your words. You flounder and clarify that the relief of the pressure feels good, and he nods his head quickly.
"I knew exactly what you meant." He adjusts himself on the ground, "I'm relieved to hear that it's working...we'll keep going then."
But before he dips back down, you stop him. You realize that he hasn't spat out what he's sucked from you and ask if you all should grab a bowl or something so that he doesn't have to swallow.
"I don't mind," He says, "It's less cumbersome this way." He stutters for a moment before adding, "U-unless it makes you uncomfortable, of course. I'd be happy to--"
You cut him off and tell him it's fine like this. And then, shyly, you ask him what it tastes like.
"It's...sweet. But not overly so." He gestures to your breast, where a pearly drop dangles from the tip of your nipple. "Try it for yourself."
So you do. You swipe the drop onto your finger and suck it into your mouth, surprised at the sweetness, even if that's how Gale had described it. When you look back at Gale, you see a curious heat in his eyes that he quickly masks before bringing his head down once more.
This time, you watch as he latches onto your nipple. The peek of his tongue as he takes it into his mouth makes you clench involuntarily. And then comes that relief again, that lessening of pressure that has you sighing and leaning your head back.
It's almost hypnotic. The feeling of his lips suckling at you, the press of his tongue against your sore nipple, the pain that slowly ebbs away and is quickly being replaced by guilty arousal. You close your eyes and sigh again, hand coming to the back of his head without thinking.
Your eyes fly open and you quickly apologize again. Gale pulls off of your nipple but doesn't lean up, his words breathed hotly against your sensitive breast.
"No need to apologize...please, get comfortable."
You tell him that he should get comfortable too-- you don't know how long this is going to take, and seeing him leaning forward on his knees is making your own want to ache in sympathy. He laughs softly, sheepishly.
"I do admit, it's not entirely comfortable. In that case..."
He moves slowly, carefully between your legs, looking up at you for permission that you grant with an encouraging nod.
Gale lays himself gingerly on top of you, his face level with your breasts. It's how lovers would cuddle, and it brings your heart to your throat.
"There, that's much better," Gale's voice has a slight tremble as he hovers over your untouched breast, "Is it comfortable for you as well?"
You tell him it is.
"Alright..." He takes his hand and gently cups the weight of your breast, "Let's work on this one a bit, shall we?"
He begins sucking at your other nipple, just as tender as the first one. But this time, with him laying against you and your hand returning to his hair, you find yourself letting out a moan despite yourself.
And this time, he doesn't pull away to ask if you're okay--The sound was purely from pleasure, and he seems to know it. Instead, he responds with a slightly stronger suck, his eyes closed and his long lashes on his cheeks. You try not to squirm, the heat between your legs growing to a point that you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy. You wonder if he can feel the thump of it against his stomach.
You don't know how long it goes on. The gentle pull of his mouth on you, the feeling of his warm breaths against your skin, his soft hair beneath your fingers...it's all so decadently pleasurable and you lose yourself in the feeling.
He swaps between your breasts, his tongue laving at your nipple before taking it into his mouth. The feeling of it makes you jolt and shudder and moan. His hand continues cupping your other breast, gently kneading it in time with each suckle. You feel a warm trickle of milk from your free nipple and watch as it rolls down the swell of your tit before meeting his hand. He unlatches himself and goes to that breast instead, licking the cooling trail up your skin before taking your nipple once again.
His tongue is becoming greedier with each of your noises, licking your areola, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin and his nose pressing into the plushness of your breast. You hold his head firmer against you, legs closing around his body as you fight to not grind against him.
He's fully groping you now, both hands gently squeezing your breasts as his hungry mouth takes turns lavishing both nipples with his attention. His eyes are still closed and his brow is furrowed as he works, panting for air between each switch but never allowing himself to fully catch his breath.
You can feel the flow of your milk drying up. The ache in your breasts has mercifully subsided, leaving them feeling tender and sensitive. But Gale doesn't seem ready to stop-- he sucks harder at them, coaxing out each drop against his tongue.
So you don't stop him. You lean back against the pillows and run your hand over his back, through his hair, letting him nurse from you to his content. And as you watch him, you realize with a cold jolt that he's rutting himself against the ground. It's subtle, almost completely missable, but you can see the way his ass flexes as his toes dig into the ground for purchase.
The revelation finally breaks your control. You moan his name and raise your hips against him, spreading your legs as his teeth dig into your skin.
It's as if he had been waiting for this moment. He's sliding up your body immediately, his hot, panted breaths against your face sweet with your milk.
"Gods, I'm--"
Whatever he's going to say is lost as he takes your mouth, that skilled tongue that has been teasing your nipples all this time now pushing past your lips, that sweetness intensified as he kisses you desperately. His body slots perfectly against yours, his hard cock pressing against your pussy and grinding into it, starved for friction. Even through both sets of your clothes you can feel his member pulsing, and as he dry fucks you he groans into your mouth, his hands hungrily feeling over your body, your face, your breasts.
You cry out as the orgasm that has been building all this time finally breaks within you, and you cling to him as you rut madly against him. Your own passionate ministrations make Gale still, and it isn't until you hear his own throaty groan that you understand why.
Your arched back deflates back into the pillows, and Gale's body follows, as if not wanting to be apart from you. You can feel the twitching of his cock still buried between your legs, uneven jumps and shudders that have him gasping and pulling out of the kiss.
"Gods, I'm...I'm so sorry..." He pants, eyes fluttering open and worry knitting his brow. "That was...inappropriate, to say the least."
You hold the side of his face and reassure him that it's alright. And, you add with a smile, his unorthodox methods have managed to do what you sought to accomplish in the first place.
"I must say, I'm rather tired myself." Gale shares your smile, "Why don't you spend the night, in that case? Besides, it's best for me to be nearby, in case you need more...extracting."
Gale asking you to masturbate in front of him. He wants to know what you like, how you touch yourself when you're turned on but don't have anyone to help. He tells you to pretend he's not even there, but it's impossible. The moment you start, he's talking to you, voice a low whisper.
"You like that?" and "That's it darling, it feels good, doesn't it?" and "So beautiful..."
You had closed your eyes to try to embrace the illusion of privacy, but all of Gale's enticing words finally break you. When you open them, you're greeted by the sight of Gale slowly stroking his cock through his pants, gaze dark and hungry as he locks eyes with you
Perpetua who forgets his human act when he's with you.
He doesn't blink because he doesn't want to miss a single moment with you-- drinking you in with his wide, hungry eyes that shine and reflect in the darkness like a predator in the woods. Not breathing so he can pay attention to your own body, your hastened breaths, your pumping heart. Teeth bared while he fucks you, dragging across your skin like he wants to eat you in every way he can. Losing his words entirely when he's inside of you, only able to growl and snarl and grip you far too tightly
HAPPY HALLOWEEN! here's some Zevlor/Reader where you give Zevlor a much needed massage >:3
~~~~
Zevlor lets out a small gasp that makes your pull your hands back, the flush in your cheeks growing deeper.
"S-sorry, did that hurt?"
"You're fine," Zevlor mumbles, his bare back visibly flexing as he readjusts himself on the bed, "Forgive me, I didn't realize just how sore I am."
Heart still hammering, you pour a bit more of the scented oil into your palm before returning your hands to Zevlor's back. His dusty red skin is glistening, the light of the lantern catching on and accentuating all of his infernal dips and ridges.
"It's no surprise that you're sore...you always work so hard." Your hands are trembling slightly as you begin rubbing his back again, thoroughly coating his skin as you press down with firm pressure, letting the tightness of his muscles slip and grind against the heels of your palms. "When's the last time you've had a massage?"
"A massage like this?" Zevlor sighs, the tips of his ears twitching ever so slightly as you find a particularly hard knot near his shoulders, "I can't say that I've ever had one."
You're glad that he's facedown so that he can't see the sadness writ across your face. Zevlor deserves the world, yet has gotten nothing near to it in his many years. On the other hand, you're happy though. Happy that you get to give this to him, that you had the courage to speak up when you saw him squeezing his own shoulders and grimacing. You had been dying on the inside, regretting your boldness when those fiery eyes stared at you for far too long, seeming to size you up. But then he had agreed to your proposal and stripped his shirt off, and now here you are, straddling the man of your secret affections, listening to his content little hums as your hands roam and squeeze and knead him.
"Perhaps we should make this a regular occurrence," You say carefully, heart in your throat.
"I couldn't ask that of you."
"You're not asking me anything. I'm offering."
Zevlor lets out a low grumble as you work the small of his back, the base of his tail flexing and inadvertently pressing up between your legs. He doesn't seem to notice, his voice gruff and relaxed as he answers.
"My manners tell me to politely decline, but Gods...this feels divine..."
You silently agree. the feel of him under you is about as heavenly a thing as you can imagine. You would be happy to do this every day for the rest of your life.
"Consider it a done deal," you say, fighting to keep your voice even as you drag your hands up and down his back, stomach rolling when you see his muscles flex under your touch.
Zevlor sighs happily, and you can see him relaxing further onto the bed. "I can't thank you enough for this..."
Rather than reply, you let your hands do the talking, a dopey, lovesick smile on your face all the while.
did someone say Perpetua foot fetish (what? PERPETUA HIMSELF SAID PERPETUA FOOT FETISH????)
'You Seem Tired'
Perpetua/Reader
reader has a vagina, foot stuff
!NSFW!
You had been working yourself to the bone. You're the newest sibling of sin, assigned to tour duties when the new ghoul came in. It's your first time getting to tour with a Papa, and it's exciting as it is tiring. You had assumed that it would be a walk in the park-- make sure soundcheck goes smoothly, ensure everyone has access to water, help out with costume changes, and then enjoy some live music in between, with lots of downtime as you travel. Easy, right?
You were so wrong. You're constantly on your feet, stumbling around huge new venues every day, offering help wherever it's needed (and boy, is it always needed), then rushing around backstage every night, ensuring that the ghouls and Papa are well cared for and the show goes off without a hitch. Every night when you return to the crew bus, you find yourself collapsing into your bunk and falling asleep immediately-- only to be awakened far too soon to do it all over again.
It's fun and rewarding in ways that you could have never imagined, but you're only mortal, and the stress and strain of it all is more than you're used to.
And that stress is why you feel hot tears threatening to pour down your cheeks when you stumble across Perpetua's dressing room, spilling the black coffee you were fetching for him.
"Sorry, I'm s-so sorry," You hurriedly say, glancing up to see him watching you through the mirror where he's putting the final touches on his makeup, "I'll get you a new one right away--"
"Are you alright?" He asks, standing up and turning towards you, genuine concern in his soft voice, "You didn't get burned, did you?"
You shake your head and put on a reassuring smile, though you can still feel embarrassed tears prickling at your eyes, "I'm fine! I'll be right back with--"
"No, no, this is fine, see?" He steps up to you with a few long strides and plucks the half cup of coffee from your hands before raising it in a cheers and taking a sip, only to sputter at how hot it is.
"C-careful!" You pat at the air in panic, feeling awful for making him hurt himself in order to make you feel better.
You see his tongue soothe his bottom lip, obviously stinging, before he grins widely at you. "All is well, so do not worry your pretty head over it, hm?"
"S-sorry," You say again, the burning in your eyes subsiding and being replaced with heat in your cheeks, "I'll...I'll be more careful next time."
You're not really sure what to say. You've shared some passing words with Papa, but it's always in the frenzy of work. Nothing as personal and quiet as this. The weight of his stare-- level and kind, yet off-kilter in a way you can't quite place, as well as his close proximity has you feeling small and shy.
"My, you look exhausted..." His voice, already soft and sweet, dips down to a near whisper, full of a tenderness that feels far too intimate for the situation. You've noticed the quirk on stage-- how Perpetua seems to overly express, how any small thing that catches his interest is the center of his world in that moment. It's overwhelming to be the one that's under his attention. "Why don't you have a seat? Take a little break, before you fall over..."
Your mouth is opening to object, but the gloved hand that slides across your lower back before urging you forward makes any noise in your throat dry up.
He leads you to the couch and gently guides you down. As silly as you feel, you can't deny how nice it is to just sit down for a moment. You sigh tiredly before looking up at Perpetua, his cool, piercing eyes still on you, and smile.
"Thank you...I needed this."
"I could tell," He responds, a smile of his own splitting his face, wide and toothy, "You've been working hard for your Papa, haven't you?"
"I-I would like to think so," You say, trying to tamp down the flutter in your stomach, "Sorry for the trouble, I-I'm new, so I'm still..."
"Adjusting? Learning the ropes?" He offers, smile growing, "Me too."
With how flawlessly he's stepped into the papacy, it's easy to forget that he's new to this, too. You find yourself relaxing-- the tension in your shoulders drops and the stilted professionalism you tried to maintain melts from your voice.
"I really do appreciate this...I've been running myself ragged." You press your hands together, like you're offering him a prayer, "This is a godsend."
"I'd say it's a gift from the other guy," Perpetua points towards the ground with a smile.
"Y-yes, of course!" You quickly backtrack, "I didn't mean it like--"
"I know. I'm only teasing." Perpetua crouches in front of you and tuts before settling comfortably onto the floor. "But ragged, you say? No wonder you lost your footing..."
You're baffled, having him sit in front of you while there's plenty of space on the couch.
It all makes sense a moment later when a gloved hand slides along the back of your calf and brings your leg forward, into his lap.
You squeak out a surprised noise before waving your hands frantically in front of yourself, "Th-that's not necessary--!"
"Shh, shh," Perpetua shushes you with a soft but stern face, already tugging your shoe off, "You've been taking care of your Papa so well...It's time for your Papa to take care of you."
Your stomach dips at his praise and you have to fight to keep your breath even as he sets your socked foot down on his thigh before bringing your other leg to his lap. He pulls off your other shoe and sets them neatly beside the couch before running his gloved hands along the underside of your calves. You jolt at the tender touch, your muscles flexing under his palms, and he shushes you again.
"Shhh, it's alright...Relax, just relax for me..."
Having him coo out those words has the opposite effect on you, though you try to hide it.
It's jarring beyond belief, seeing the man heading this entire operation on the floor in front of you, sitting criss-cross as casually as anyone else, the metal of his mask catching on the light as he looks down at your feet--at the socks, plain white and tiredly tugged on without a thought this morning. How the gloves that would be gripping onto a mic stand in a few short hours are now wrapping around one of your sore feet, his thumbs already pressing and circling along the bottom in a firm massage. You can't help but wonder if you're still fast asleep on the tour bus, still heading towards the next venue.
"You've gone quiet," Perpetua tilts his head up to look at you, his hypnotic gaze dragging along your face, "Does that mean I'm doing good, or bad?"
"It's..."
You had been so absorbed in the oddity of the situation that the feelings of the massage itself weren't registering. You take a deep breath to ground yourself, focusing on the soft ministrations of Perpetua's fingers. It feels...
"Good," You sigh, smiling down at him shyly.
"But could be better?" He tilts his head as he asks, an action that's so open and innocent, you find your breath catching.
"No, no, it's perfect," You assure him.
He hums to himself like he's not entirely convinced, then sets your foot back on his thigh.
"Let's take these off," He mumbles mainly to himself as he tugs at the fingers of his gloves. You find yourself enamored with the reveal of his hands-- it's so odd, seeing that there's skin under that leather. A silly thought, assuredly, but you can't help it. Perpetua is an unholy being, larger than life...it's so easy to forget that he's still only a man. A man with very nice hands. Long, thin fingers that are as graceful as they are powerful. Lean bones along the top of his hands that flutter and shift under his pale skin as he sets his gloves beside your shoes and wiggles his fingers playfully. Clean, even nails that shine in the light as he points down at your feet, "May I take these off too?"
Your attention is so drawn in by his hands that it takes you a second to register what he's asking, and another to answer.
"S-sure..."
He takes his time, lifting each foot and gently peeling off your socks. You feel embarrassment heat your cheeks at your chipped nail polish--you hadn't had the time nor the reason to touch it up since the tour started, and now Perpetua is holding your foot, face leaning in close as he gently rolls your ankle, seemingly interested in the purple sparkles in the paint.
"Very pretty," He murmurs, close enough to your toes that you can feel the hot breath of the words.
"S-sorry, I would have, you know, painted them again if I had known--" You give a small laugh, feeling rambly and jittery with his attention, "Not that I would have ever thought that this would..."
"I would have brought some supplies, if I had known we'd be doing this." Perpetua finally lifts his gaze from your toes and smiles at you, his fingers wrapping around your foot and setting in to a steady, even pressure, "I would have treated you to a full pedicure."
Thinking of the Papa giving you a pedicure makes you laugh, and he shares in the sound, but it's a little hesitant, like he's only making it a joke based on your reaction. You're not sure what to make of that, and find yourself falling silent once more, a warm, nervous glow building in your stomach.
"See, doesn't that feel better?" Perpetua says softly, his fingers surprisingly cool as he wraps them around one toe and tugs gently, massaging, before moving on to the next one, "It feels nicer like this, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," you swallow thickly, head feeling dizzy with the feeling of his expert fingers on your skin, "It really does."
He hums again, this time in approval, as he slides his palm along the bottom of your foot before taking a knuckle and rotating it against your arch. You gasp and flinch, surprised by just how sore the area is.
"Oh, does it hurt?" He softens his touch but continues working the area, his steady gaze on your face as he rubs and soothes the ache, "But it's a good kind of hurt, no?"
"Y-yes," You manage, trying to bat away perverse thoughts as the soreness of your tired foot slowly melts into a pleasant warmth. It really does feel good-- The initial pain is subsiding, the overworked muscles loosening and relaxing under his expert ministrations. "Fuck..."
The breathy expletive leaves you before you can catch yourself, and you can feel your cheeks prickling with how fast they heat up. You had practically moaned the word...You don't know when it happened, but you're reclining against the couch, and you quickly sit up.
Perpetua grins, hand cupping the ball of your foot as he squeezes it rhythmically, "Don't be afraid to make noise. I like to know that you're feeling good."
Why does everything he say feel so...
"Are you doing that on purpose?" You try to say it playfully, but there's a shake in your voice that makes your words feel little.
He cocks his head to the side and gives you an innocent look but it feels calculated, a little too oblivious. Especially when he slides a finger between two of your toes slowly, purposefully, "Doing what?"
"Everything you're saying, it feels..." You trail off, knowing he catches your meaning and not wanting to say it out loud.
"Perverted?" He finishes, eyes flitting over your face. He slides his finger out from between your toes and holds your foot, hands finally stilling as he looks meaningfully up at you, voice growing a shade softer, "I can stop, if you want."
"N-no, that's not what I-- I mean I just--" You flounder with your words, feeling yourself sweat under his unwaveringly sincere gaze, "I just didn't know if I was, you know...." You've already dug your hole, so you sigh and lay yourself in it, for better or worse. "I didn't know if I was reading too much into it, is all."
"Perhaps I've been teasing you too much," Perpetua's voice is nearly a whisper, his eyes burning into you with a weight that makes it hard to breathe, "Would you like for me to be more direct?"
You swear you feel your heart stop. Even with the situation, his expression, his words, you still can't help but think that you're misinterpreting something, because there's no way that Papa-- the Papa-- is flirting with you, right?
Not trusting your words, you give a small nod.
You feel his touch tighten ever so slightly around your foot, "Are you sure?"
You nod again.
He holds your gaze as he brings your foot towards himself, slowly, meaningfully, as if to give you ample time to pull away, to stop him.
You don't.
He holds your leg over his lap and you see his tongue swipe along his painted bottom lip before he gently sets your foot down, along his upper thigh. You immediately understand why-- you can feel his erection pressing against the side of your foot. When had he gotten hard? Had be been hard this entire time? Your mind races as you stare at each other, a long, heavy silence pulling between you as you feel his cock throb softly, excitedly against you.
"Is that direct enough for you?" He says, a small smile pulling at his lips-- devilish, yet nervous.
Rather than stumble out a reply, you raise your big toe and rub up against his cock. The movement feels clumsy, but Perpetua shivers nonetheless, his eyelids fluttering as he lets out a small, breathy noise.
"O-oh..." He looks down, hands sliding up to gently hold your ankle as he watches your toes flex and move along his length. He seems transfixed, breaths light and fast, lips parted as his thighs flex and tremble.
You slide your foot down his thigh, letting the side of it drag down his cock, then move back up, then back down...
Perpetua moans softly, breathily, then clears his throat, his head raising to look at you. His pupils have blown wide, his expression downright debauched as he shifts his hands to your neglected leg. He begins to massage your other foot, his touch far more weighted and sensual now. Every press and rub has your core flexing and a pleased groan leaves you-- and it's not just for show. Now that he's moving the way he wants, he's really getting into it, working deep into your sore muscles, his hips rolling up against the foot on his cock as his fingers deftly find and massage every ache. You can feel your heartbeat in your pussy and part your knees, wondering if he can smell your arousal from his spot on the floor. The action draws his eyes down between your legs before they flitter back to your face.
"Is that, mmm--" He bites his lip and bucks his hips against your foot before continuing, "An invitation?"
You open your mouth to moan out an answer, but you're cut off as you hear the door open. The both of you whip your heads around and see Jesus poking his head in the door, his bored expression turning to shock, then sheepishness as he quickly closes the door. A moment later, you hear his muffled voice.
"Sound check in 5, Papa."
Perpetua holds his pose for a moment more before deflating with a sigh and raising his voice, "Thank you." He turns back to you, disappointment bordering on despair written across his face as he looks you over. "Sorry...Duty calls, it seems."
Your heart is hammering with shock (and a fair share of your own disappointment) as you nod and sit up, your foot regretfully sliding away from it's position against Perpetua's cock. You reach towards your shoes, but Perpetua is quicker, picking up your socks and sliding them back on.
He looks up at you quickly as he grabs one of your shoes and helps you into it, "Perhaps...If you aren't too tired after the Ritual--"
"Yes." you say before he can finish.
He grins as he puts on your other shoe, "Good." He gives your feet a pat when he finishes and hops up, straightening his jacket. "Until tonight, then."
He offers you a little bow before turning on his heel and heading towards the door.
anyone here interested in some Storm/Reader, with a little bit of Dewdrop/Reader mixed in?
Contains: dubcon, knotting, exhibitionism, breeding, reader has a vagina, vaginal sex, masturbation
Imagine, if you will, that you are a newbie ghoul handler-- you've gotten to interact with the ghouls at the Monastery a bit, but mainly, you've just studied them.
With the summoning of the new ghoul, the Ministry decides that it would be best for you to join him on the tour, since your own newness might make the ghoul feel less alone.
The new ghoul (Storm, you've seen people call him online) has been doing so well. The first few shows, you could sense his nervous energy and reservedness, but by the third night, he's fitting right in.
Though you're still a novice at the job, you find that it's much easier than all of your studies had made it seem. Ensuring that the ghouls stay hydrated, diffusing tensions when a spat is about to break out, doctoring fingers cut by strings...it's actually pretty fun, all things considered. Even if the ghouls don't like speaking often, you find their body language is more than enough to see what they need. And the nun outfit the handlers wear is cute, to boot.
You try to pay special attention to the new ghoul to make sure he's comfortable and fitting in, but some of the other ghouls make it hard. Especially Dewdrop. He seems deeply interested in you, slinking up to you every chance he gets, sniffing at your hair and offering you guitar picks after shows. It's sweet, but he tends to interrupt your time with the new ghoul a lot.
One night, Storm gets a little aggressive with Dewdrop. As Dew approaches the two of you, his shoulders tighten and his eyes sharpen warily from behind his mask. You put a hand on his back in an attempt to calm him, but it only seems to do the opposite-- a low, warning growl rumbles in his chest as he stares daggers at Dew. Dewdrop, ever the troublemaker, only cocks his head to the side, staring back challengingly. You quickly diffuse the situation by guiding Storm away, not sure what the sudden tension is about
That evening during sound rehearsal, you're told that Storm is feeling under the weather (ha) so will be absent from the show tonight, and are asked to help out with the other ghouls instead.
You go about your duties as the ritual starts, but it's obvious that there's too many cooks in the kitchen, so to speak. The other ghoul handlers have their routine down pat, and while twiddling your fingers backstage and listening to Papa perform is nice, you're worried about Storm.
You ensure that everything is being handled and decide to go pay Storm a visit to see if he needs anything. You head to the tour bus, trying to recall all that you've read about ghoul ailments.
As soon as you enter, you can sense a shift in the air. It feels thicker, charged with something that you can't quite place. You can already see Storm-- he's sitting on his bunk, dressed in his uniform despite not performing tonight. His shoulders are slumped and his head is hanging, and you can see sweat darkening his chest. As you approach, he lets out a sort of growl-whimper and makes a forceful shooing gesture with his hand
He's always been so gentle with you, so you're hurt by the curtness of the action. Something is obviously wrong, and even if it's against his wishes, you approach him, voice soothing and low as you tell him he needs to lie down and asking if he needs anything....water? A change of clothes? Medicine?
He doesn't move, so you try to be more firm with him. You put your hand on his shoulder and try to ease him back on the bed, but he grabs your wrist, his grip shockingly strong and hot--he's burning up, possibly a fever. You're about to say as much, but he lets out a growl and yanks you forward and downwards, turning your half-word into a surprised squeak.
You've never experienced the strength of a ghoul firsthand. You feel like your world is turning as you're maneuvered around with incredible speed and ease. You think that this must be what a small prey animal must feel like when they're captured by a hungry predator.
In the blink of an eye, you find that you're flat on the bed, pinned under Storm's weight. You're sweating already--he's as hot as a furnace and laying himself fully on top of you. You can feel every breath of his against your face and in your chest, the push and pull of it, and the vibration of his deep, growling purr. Your dress got bunched up in the struggle, and you can feel the fabric of his costume against your bare thighs, and the strength of his leg muscles flexing spasmodically against you.
It's evident what's about to happen, but you still feel cold shock flood your system as he begins grinding against you, his knees prying your legs open so his groin is flush against you and rubbing directly against your cunt. It's only then that you realize that he's hard, the length of it dragging against your panties with rough desperation.
It's all so bewildering. A few moments ago you were entering the bus, and now you have this creature rutting between your legs. You cry out, but it's lost in the growling whine that Storm is panting out.
You try to push him off, but you might as well be fighting with a wall with how sturdy and strong he is. Storm's whine dips in a quavering, sad rumble, like he's trying to tell you that he's sorry, but he just can't stop.
He had always been so kind to you, and whatever is happening doesn't feel malicious...you rack your brain as you're rocked against the bed with Storm's hungry grinding. The sweating, the heat, the possessiveness, and now this...
Storm is in rut. It all adds up. There's precautions that should have been taken, but with him being brought into the Clergy in a hurry and your lack of expertise, you didn't recognize the signs until it was too late. Even though you're scared, you feel terrible for letting him get to this point. You've known Storm for only a short while, but you know this isn't who he is.
Storm whines and lifts up from you, allowing you a brief reprieve from his intense heat, but the relief is short lived as you hear the crackle-split of tearing fabric. You look between you just in time to see Storm's hand ripping open the front of his uniform, the soft weight of his belly spilling out of the torn fabric first, and then his thick, throbbing cock.
The cool air on his exposed skin makes Storm pant out a pained whine. His eyes peer down at you, dark and manic, but you swear you can see a glimmer of sorrow in them. You only get a second to stare up at him before you feel your panties being yanked to the side right before something impossibly hot and pulsing is pressed between your pussy lips.
All at once, he's inside of you. The sudden stretch of it burns and aches, and all you can manage out is a choked cry as his hips immediately begin pistoning against you. You want to thrash, you want to shout, you want to beg him to stop, but you don't. The shaking, whimpering whines that Storm is letting out makes you stay still as he uses you fast and rough-- he sounds so heartbroken, so pained, so desperate. You know he feels awful for doing this to you, and you don't want him to feel even worse.
You cling onto him, trying your best to breathe and stay calm as your hole is pounded-- it's ruthless in it's intensity and animalistic in it's rhythm. He hardly pulls out before shoving himself back in, again and again and again, more of a grind than a hump.
As terrified and overwhelmed as you are, the rubbing of his pelvis against your clit has your breath hitching and liquid heat pooling in your stomach. It feels wrong to be getting off to this, but your fear-riddled mind seems desperate to latch onto some sort of relief from the stress, and the stimulation Storm is inadvertently giving you is exactly that.
The pleasure slowly overtakes the pain. You feel your body loosening, accepting Storm into you with more and more ease. Your fearful hiccuped cries turn sweeter, breathier as your thighs tighten and the heat in your core starts to race towards it's peak
Storm seems to pick up on the change in your body, his whining noises melting into a rumbling, hungry growl as he bears down against you, pushing you deeper into the mattress as his hips fuck into you with more purpose.
And then, you feel it. The stretch you had only just become accustomed to burns anew-- you can feel something in you swelling to an impossible degree, and then liquid heat pumps into you, so hot that you can feel every ounce of it deep inside of you. Storm's hips are forced to still, no longer able to pull out, and he's left holding you far too tightly as he groans and whimpers, his body shaking with the intensity of his orgasm.
He's bred you. He's knotted you. You can feel it, pressed against your entrance from the inside, throbbing as he dumps his cum steadily into you.
He's whining again, a high keening sound in the back of his throat like a wounded animal, and you instinctively run your hands over his back, soothing him. You tell him that it's okay, that you hope he feels better, to not worry. Any sweet thoughts that come to your mind pour from your mouth in a comforting whisper, and it seems to help him. His grip loosens a bit, and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck as he shivers.
And then the door opens. You yelp in surprise, but that's all you can do, because Storm is holding tight to you again, the warning growl he lets out rumbling against your ribs.
A lithe, familiar figure steps in and cocks his head, looking over the two of you with smug interest. It seems that the concert has ended, and rather than hanging out backstage or getting dinner, Dewdrop has decided to turn in early.
Storm snarls again, glaring at Dew as his hips churn against you as best as he can with his knot still plugging you. Dewdrop holds his hands up in a gesture of peace before sitting on the bunk opposite of you and Storm, his eyes never leaving the two of you. Storm's growls lower in intensity, but they still rumble against you as he grinds himself possessively into you. It's clear what he's saying, even without words; "This one's mine."
Dewdrop chirps before settling into a lazy purr, reclining back on the bunk as his hand slides down to his cock, stroking it through the thin fabric of his uniform. He's hard in seconds, his hand working himself full with deft, quick strokes. Storm is still grumbling, grinding into you more forcefully, but doesn't seem to object, as long as Dew doesn't come closer.
The steady, intense grinding lights up your core, your forgotten orgasm mounting once again in hazy, hot pulses. Realizing that you're physically unable to leave, trapped under Storm, a climax fast approaching while you're being watched by two sets of heated, hungry eyes...
You try to hold off, you really do. Small whimpers and gasps are wrenched from you as you fight the pleasure, and it only seems to work the ghouls up more--Storm fucks into you faster as Dew's hand speeds up, their grumbles and purrs filling the room.
Your climax hits hard and all at once. Your body jerks and squirms under Storm as your mind goes blank, the hot waves of your orgasm washing over you as you cry out weakly. You're only vaguely aware of the soft, pleased chitterings the ghouls share as you tremble and whine.
Storm mercifully stops his grinding and purrs happily as your pussy clenches in tight, overwhelming spasms around him as you finally start to come down. You fall limp against the mattress, heart hammering in your chest so hard that you're sure Storm can feel it.
You're still trying to regain your composure when you feel Storm raise his chest from you. He grabs your thigh and spreads it wider before pushing it into the mattress. Your curiosity overrides your fatigue and you raise your head enough to see what he's doing.
His head is turned towards Dewdrop as he pulls his pelvis as far from you as he can--which isn't much, with his knot-- but it's enough for Dew to see just how full Storm has you stuffed. Storm is showing you off... You realize what's happening as you feel his knot pressing against the inside of your entrance and find yourself clenching as your orgasm rears again, this time smaller and less intense, but still enough to make your toes curl. Dew's hand speeds up before stilling, his eyes drinking the both of you in as his purr grows to an almost deafening degree. He bucks his hips against his hand in rough pseudo-thrusts, and you can see a dark wet spot spread along his thigh.
Seemingly pleased, Storm cuddles back against you, his own purring tickling your entire body with it's fervor as your tired limbs relax under him. Dew stands up and offers a little wave before sauntering towards the bus door.
You're not really sure what sort of dynamic the two ghouls have--or what your dynamic with either of them is now. Sometimes studying doesn't prepare you for the real world...
[rappels from your ceiling] daisy you and i share exactly one (1) brain cell so I hope u understand what I mean when I say: clicker training Rolan
I hope you all don't mind that I combined these asks, they came in at around the same time and my brain just went !!!!!!
!NSFW!
~~~
-Rolan has been beating himself up about his little issue. It's not a big deal to you, you love the fact that he gets so excited, but to him, it's humiliating.
-And it's heartbreaking whenever he finishes--not for the reasons he thinks though. It's the way he deflates, the way he says "sorry" again and again, never getting to fully enjoy his own orgasms because he's so guilty for finishing quickly
-You try to console him, but he's in a downwards spiral over it, to the point that he's starting to decline sex--and now you're both miserable
-So you sit him down and have a serious talk with him about it. And that's when Rolan makes his request: he wants you to train him. He wants to feel you cum around his cock before he cums too. It's all he wants, but he just can't. It's a valiant goal, and you kiss him and promise him that you'll help him
-And then the training starts. After not having sex with him for the past week, the first attempt is over before it even starts--he ends up cumming in his pants during your foreplay of grinding and kissing
-He's so pissed at himself that he wants to give up for the day, but you tell him that this is the perfect time to start training
-You pull him out and stroke his cum-smeared, softening cock, loving the way Rolan jumps and shivers and whines with the overstimulation of it
-With the help of your mouth, he starts getting hard again. You can tell by the way his breathing is getting shallower and the way his whimpers are getting higher that he's going to cum soon
-"Kiss," Rolan moans, sitting up as his hands try to pull you up his body, eyes desperate, "Kiss me, please--"
-That gives you an idea
-"I'm going to suck you down to the base," You explain, pushing him him back, gently but firmly, "If you don't cum, I'll give you a kiss."
-Rolan makes a weak protest, but pulls himself together just enough to remember why you're doing this in the first place. He agrees, his muscles already tensing to prepare
-You suck him down and hold your mouth there, relishing the way you feel his cock pulse madly in your throat. Rolan wheezes out broken noises, body thrashing gently as he fights to hold in his orgasm, and he seems to be succeeding-- that is, until you start sliding back up
-He cums in your mouth, cries of "sorry" leaving him as he shakes and jerks weakly through his orgasm. You properly bob your head for him, helping him through it until he's fully spent
-You join him on the bed and Rolan immediately cups your face and pulls you forward for a kiss, but you put your hand between your mouths before they meet. Rolan furrows his brow in confusion
-"Kissing is a reward for obeying me. You didn't listen to me, did you Rolan?"
-Rolan sulks for all but a second before his eyes seem to glow even brighter with his determination. "Alright, that's fair. Give me some time to...recuperate."
-The training is hard on both of you over the next week. Having to hold back from kissing Rolan is torture. Especially when Rolan cries when he starts getting close--both with his effort and his aggravation
-So you decide to back things up, start smaller. Rubbing his cock through his pants. Grinding against him. Having him watch you touch yourself. All of these things have had him toppling over the edge in the past, but now, he can endure them--especially when you kiss him so passionately afterwards
-And slowly, he's learning to control himself. As you jerk him off you watch as he sticks his tongue out, as if reminding himself of what he'll get if he's good for you. The way he licks at the air, almost mimicking your movements as you blow him
-Eventually, he's able to fuck you without cumming immediately. He has to take his time, has to take everything slow, but he can do it. You're so proud of him that you can't help but lock him in a kiss, which of course makes him immediately pump hot spurts of cum in you
-Sex has never been as frequent and as hot between you. And now that Rolan has a bit more sexual stamina, you can tell that he's enjoying himself more too. Getting to feel the way you flutter and clench around him, teasing you with bites and lewd words. Experimenting with his pacing and angles, seeing what makes you moan and gasp the most
-And then it happens. After weeks of training, he's slamming his cock into you, holding your leg up to hammer into that shiver-inducing spot inside you. Seeing the way he smiles at you as you writhe and whine his name, the confidence of his movements, it's all too much
-"Kiss me," You babble up at him, "Please, kiss me--"
-"Not yet." Rolan's teeth flash as he grins breathlessly, his hips moving faster against you, "Cum, ah-- cum on my cock first."
-And you do. It's the most electrifying orgasm you've ever had, rolling through your body in wave after wave of intense pleasure that has spots dancing in your vision and your body locking up as you cry out
-Rolan's tongue enters your mouth as you shake through your climax, and all at once, he's cumming with you, fucking you fast and shallow as your whines mix with his
-The both of you collapse into a pile of limbs as you kiss and shiver out the dregs of your orgasms. And Rolan just can't stop smiling, he's just so happy
-And that happiness continues throughout his normal day to day life. You notice how much lighter he seems as he walks around Sorcerous Sundries, how he's kinder to customers, how he's more patient
-Seeing him so happy makes your heart soar, and you can't help but catch him on his way up the stairs to lock him into a heated kiss
-But as soon as your tongue meets his, he keens in the back of his throat and his hands grip you a little too tightly. You pull away to see what the matter is, and you're greeted with glassy eyes and deep-red cheeks. He looks horrified, but also blissed out of his mind
-"Oh Gods..." His voice is hoarse as he pulls you closer, burying his face in your neck, as if hiding from the customers below, "I...I just..."
-Now that his body's pressed against you, you can feel the rough, uneven pulsing of his cock against your thigh. You realize what just happened
-Oops....seems like you accidentally made kissing an automatic orgasm response
-It seems that you and him have some more training to do <3
