#copia x dew | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forlorn-crows · 2 months

Text

And You Know That It Takes Two

Rating: E for Explicit

Relationship(s): Copia/Dewdrop

Tags: transitional period between era iv and era v, banter, slice of life, first time, first kiss, handjobs. beta'd AND correctly translated italian!

Words: 3731

Summary: “Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?”

When Copia starts rubbing his thumb up and down the inside of his knee, Dew’s brain stops working. His gaze zeros in to the fingers splayed across the side of his thigh, so foreign, so bare, so pink against the black of his casual uniform pants. His mind is full of static and all he can hear is his own blood pumping through his head. But there’s a weird something tugging in his ribcage; something new yet old, unnamed but familiar.

special thanks to @miasmaghoul for beta'ing and @foxybouquet for the italian translations ♡

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

EDIT: now with ART from the fabulous @noahl-art. merci beaucoup, nono!! find his full artwork here

“D’you think Lucifer would want us to have black mass every Saturday?” Dew pokes the wooden arm of Copia’s chair with the toe of his boot. “Shouldn’t we be exercising our sinful wiles instead of listening to you drone on about the Dark One?”

Caro: dear

Stai bene?: (Are) you okay?

Ti piace?: Do you like this?/Does this feel good?

Merdaccia infernale: (roughly) infernal fucking shit. Closest to "unholy shit".

Proprio così: That’s it.

Copia tugs on a scrap of paper trapped beneath the ghoul’s thigh. “You do plenty of that on your off time, my ghoul,” he teases. He looks over his reading glasses, offering a smirk. Dew can hear the unspoken eh? at the end of his sentence, so much so he can’t help rolling his eyes and smirking back.

“How would you know, old man?” Dew fires back, flicking the hem of Copia’s trousers with his tail. He leans in closer. Elbows resting on his slightly spread knees until his face is level with the anti-pope’s. “Listening in on your free time?” The fire ghoul smiles wickedly, giving him an obvious once over. He cocks his head and bites his tongue between his teeth, waiting for an answer.

Copia’s face rosies a bit, but he returns to his chicken scratch. He jots down a few words before he mutters: “I am sure you do not fantasize your Papa spying on you, caro.”

“Maybe I don’t.” A lie. “Anyway, I think Rain’s loud enough to hear across the fuckin’ abbey. Probably have a soundtrack of water ghoul moans to lull you to sleep every other night,” Dew snickers.

Copia just shakes his head with an amused sigh and continues taking notes. Little chunks of writing in the margins of photocopies of Latin texts, scrawling in both Italian and English in a little notebook off to the side. Dew’s struck with just how patient this man is, endlessly so. He can get crabby on tour, just like any of them, restless and tired, but he really is kind to him and his pack.

The fire ghoul hums thoughtfully and returns to his upright position. Leaning back into the circles of bare desk he cleared earlier for his hands. “Do you get tired of putting up with us, Papa?” he asks casually.

“Dewdrop,” Copia says with a measured tone. He puts his pen down, and his glasses too, looking up at his lead guitarist and steepling his fingers. They’re devoid of gloves, Dew notices in passing, his nails neatly trimmed and his skin smooth and humanly wrinkly. “We have been working together for how many years now?”

Dew shrugs. “A few.”

“Si, quite a few, hm?” Copia agrees. He swivels his chair so his body faces Dew more directly and places a gentle hand on his knee. “Why then, my ghoul, would you think I am ‘putting up with you,’ as you put it?”

“Don’t tell me you actually like us,” Dew says sarcastically. But Copia’s hand is warm on his knee, and he’s trying not to focus too much on how he’s looking at him right now, all soft eyes and a worried crease in his brow.

“Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?”

He’s quiet for so long that Copia clears his throat and gives his knee a polite pat before taking his hand away. He makes to go back to his notes, but Dew mourns the loss of his hand immediately. His pen barely touches the pages before the fire ghoul sobers up and inhales sharply.

“Uh,” he blurts out stupidly, shaking his head and squinting his eyes at Copia. Unsure what to say but determined to say something. “You mean that?” Immediately he wants to crawl back into himself—back into the Pit, even—for sounding so small. Vulnerable.

“Yes, I do,” Copia says quietly, genuinely. He taps his pen against the paper, little dots of black littering the line beneath his skip this? note. Instead of resuming his annotations, he sets the pen down once more, looking up at the ghoul perched atop his desk. His white eye is suddenly piercing in the lamplight, and he’s looking at him like he can see more than just the ghoul sitting in front of him.

“Well, I guess we’re . . . fond of you too, or whatever you wanna call it,” he mocks, aiming for levity. Dew’s tail flicks, ruffling the hem of Copia’s pants again.

Copia chuckles. “Well, that is good then,” he smiles.

Dew hums. Offers a one-sided smile in return. Easy. He could leave it at that; resume the relaxed banter about sermons and his new duties as Papa while Copia gets increasingly tired and/or annoyed and shoos him away with a chocolate truffle in hand (the ones he keeps stashed in his desk drawer for evenings like this).

He could. But in the same moment, he decides he’s tired of tip-toeing around the idea of what this man is to him. He wades out into the waters, throwing a line.

“Is that . . . the only thing you feel for us?” he says at length, quieter. He scoots his thigh closer to the anti-pope’s hand. Encouraging him to touch again, if he wants. The sudden heat in his belly hoping he does. He wades a little deeper. “For me?”

Now it’s Copia’s turn to falter, fingers twitching at the fabric of Dew’s trousers. He looks down at Dew’s thigh, then back up to his face. Searching his copper eyes for something, anything, his thoughts as loud as if Dew were a quintessence ghoul.

“I . . .” he trails off, a failed start. He clears his throat. “I am, as they say, only human. So there are, perhaps, other . . . things. Si.”

Dew grabs his hand gently, placing it just above where it was moments ago, confidence building. “Fantasies, maybe?”

“Dewdrop—”

“For how bold you are on stage, you sure are fuckin’ shy in private, Papa.”

Copia huffs a laugh, moving his hand tentatively along Dew’s thigh. “Eh . . . reserved, maybe. But I don’t know about shy, my ghoul.” He shuffles his chair so he’s situated back between the fire ghoul’s dangling legs.

Dew smirks. “See? Can call me motherfucker in front of thousands of screaming girls, but it’s my ghoul in here.”

“Ah, but that is the difference. They do not get the privilege of seeing you offstage.” A beat. “Though, I imagine they would do a lot of things for that privilege,” he mutters.

Dew bites his tongue in asserting that he is, in fact, a motherfucker offstage too. Instead, he tilts his head so his ashy hair cascades over his shoulder and spreads his legs further, hooking a foot in the arm of Copia’s chair and tugging it closer. He’s baring all of himself now, literally and figuratively. Potentially risking his position, too, if this goes south.

But by the look on the anti-pope’s face, they’re both too deep to swim back now.

“And what’re you gonna do with that privilege, Papa?”

“You’re asking?” he deflects, putting the other hand on the opposite thigh.

“If you don’t touch me in the next five seconds, old man, I swear to Satan—”

“Like this?” Copia smooths his hand up the inside of Dew’s thigh, running along the seam of his pants until he reaches where the ghoul’s started to chub up. His breath hitches, head tilting back.

“Yeah,” he breathes. He looks back down at his hand, tucking chin to chest as he watches those fingers press just so, right where the tip of his dick sits already sticky in his boxers. He bites his lip with a stifled noise.

“Long time we’ve danced around each other, I think,” Copia says. Dew just nods, flexing his hips into his fingers to get more friction. Copia presses more firmly, taking the hint. Drawing a firm line down the ridge of his clothed shaft.

“Humans and ghouls, well . . .” he trails off, looking up at Dew.

“You’ve thought about it,” he replies simply.

“Of course. Of course I have, caro. I–” he laughs, shakes his head in disbelief. “I mean, look at you.” He stops himself, color rising to his cheeks. He drops his gaze, focusing back on the hand on Dew’s fly.

The fire ghoul watches him trace a finger around the button before reaching down himself, popping it open. “What about me?” he asks softly, inviting. Shifting his hips again to encourage him to continue.

“Not just fishing for compliments, I hope,” Copia teases lightly, a little bit of that stage persona shining through as he drags the zipper down.

“That’s not what—hh-oh.” He cuts himself off with a stuttered breath of a moan, Copia’s hand having reached past his fly and into his pants to pet at the dot of wetness sticking his boxers to his tip. The look of pure curiosity—wonder, really—on the man’s face as he feels him up has his stomach flipping. “Fuck, keep doing that.”

“You tell me what you like, my ghoul, and I will do it,” he whispers.

Dew groans as another bead of precum blurts out into his boxers, wet at just his words. “Keep teasing it,” he breathes. “Shit, see how wet you can get it.” He twitches under Copia’s fingers as he wraps his hand around his clothed cock, thumb swiping back and forth over the head. Firm, but just light enough that it makes Dew keen for more.

Copia continues the little motions, over and over until Dew’s underwear clings to him, saturated with pre. The friction of it and the intensity of Copia’s gaze on him has him dizzy, wanting. The man’s thumb presses over his slit, and he can’t help his eyes rolling back, thighs twitching towards each other.

“F-fuck,” he stutters.

Copia rubs his other hand over Dew’s thigh, soothing. “Stai bene? Good?”

The fire ghoul nods, hair falling off his shoulders to frame his face. “More than,” he groans. He bites his lip, bucking into Copia’s hand. “Again—do it agai—yes, Satanas, yes.”

The anti-pope presses into his slit again, this time dragging the pad of his thumb along the ridge with even pressure. Humming as he works it back and forth. It’s so sensitive, so instantly overwhelming that Dew has to consciously restrain himself from gouging his claws into the wood. He lets his head drop back, facing the ceiling and biting his lip to stave off the rush of arousal that threatens to make him spill in his pants.

Below him, Copia sighs. “Beautiful, caro,” he comments.

Dew half-snorts, half-groans, bringing his chin back down to his chest. “You flatter me,” he says with an eye roll.

“They say it gets one everywhere, no?”

“If by ‘everywhere’ you mean ‘in my pants’.”

“If that is where you want me.”

Dew sucks his teeth, scoffs a little in disbelief. Eyebrows twitching upwards when Copia fingers the elastic of his boxers, blunt nails scratching at the peach fuzz on his stomach. He can’t get a grasp on the anti-pope’s tone, switching so fast between charming and soft it makes his head spin. He’s seen both moods separately, of course, fired back his own quips with a silver tongue or begrudgingly accepted praise and a head pat for a productive rehearsal. But having a cocktail of both leaves him with mental whiplash.

The hand making his dick wet probably isn’t helping in that department.

So he nods instead, helping the man shimmy down the waistband of his boxers to snuggle it under his balls, freeing his aching length. Dew hisses at the cool air of the room breezing over the slick-coated head—though, it’s replaced with a puff of hot air when Copia breathes:

“May I?”

Dew nods again, widening his eyes and raising his eyebrows as a silent duh. Copia chuckles at that, scooting a little closer. He smooths his other hand up the fire ghoul’s thigh, up, up, up until he stops at his hip and rests his palm there, forearm dropping to sit on top of his leg. Dew’s stuck watching its ascent and misses the moment the anti-pope reaches for him, wrapping his fingers gently around the base of his cock and stroking upwards.

“Lucifer,” he chokes out. He snaps his gaze to where their skin meets and watches his dick kick hard in Copia’s fist, more precum welling up in the slit.

“Ti piace?” Copia continues to stroke slowly, not immediately translating as earlier. His accent curls around Dew’s eardrums, the Italian twisting with foreignness and short-circuiting his language synapses. He shakes his head, begging the small box of Italian in his brain labeled ‘Papa’s Nonsense Words’ to make sense of the phrase.

He blinks at Copia’s expectant gaze. “Huh?” he asks eloquently, forcing the word through an embarrassing moan.

“Does this feel good?” he supplies, nodding toward his hand.

The fire ghoul stares at the man’s hand, now wet with his own slick as it glides up and down. When his brain finally catches up to him, he barks a bewildered laugh. “I’m gonna have to learn more fuckin’ Italian for this,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” Copia laughs too, realizing his little slip-up. Dew’s shoulders shake with his own renewed laughter. Giggles passing between the two as if they were twelve-year-olds who just pulled off a prank on their teacher, not a fifty-something leader of a Satanic church jerking off a near immortal hellbeast turned quasi-human.

But the shared laughter is familiar. Comforting, in a way. Something to dissolve that final layer of caution that sat like oil on water between them.

“You are an endless delight, my ghoul,” Copia sighs, huffing out a last chuckle.

“I’ll give you an endless—uuh-nholy ff–fuck.” Copia runs his thumb over the slit of Dew’s cock, and his sentence is reduced to an eye-rolling moan. He grabs hold of the anti-pope’s forearm that rests on his leg, fingers digging into the muscle as he drools out a fat roll of precum.

Copia hums and smears it around the head, pulling down the foreskin to rub at the sensitive underside. It’s all the courtesy he’s granted before the man goes back to stroking him in earnest, skirting over the head with each downward pass and tightening around the base when he pulls up.

Dew grips his forearm tighter, thighs jumping with each tease of his frenulum. “Faster,” he begs. “And tighter. Fuck, feels s’ good.”

“Merdaccia infernale, are you always so . . .” Copia shakes his head, letting the room fill with the lewd, creamy sounds of Dew’s slick-soaked cock.

“Wet?” Dew supplies as a choked-off noise. “Not al–hah–always. Not since—” his eyes roll back again, too caught in pleasure to be completely coherent. “The–shit–the—” Dew flails his hand in some nonsensical gesture.

“Si, si.” The man understands without further elaboration that he means his elemental transition. That, despite the effective evaporation of his water, the born-again fire ghoul still carries traits from his original alignment—including dribbling pre like a leaky tap.

But Copia knows, doesn’t need him to explain or elaborate. Just tightens his grip and speeds his hand, looking up at Dew with a gaze that cuts him right down to the core. Intense, yet soft and admiring. Desire flickering just behind that.

“Shit,” Dew hisses, letting his eyes close fully. Sinking into it. His hips are moving of their own accord now, little twitches that meet each downstroke, just barely fucking into Copia’s fist. It’s so much better than it has right to be, but Dew doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way Copia’s hand feels on his dick, the way his other hand grips his hip, the way his breathing grows heavier and tickles the fine hairs at the base of his dick, how it chills the wetness at the tip only to be warmed by his fingers within the same second.

“Oh, oh, ohhhh fuck, Papa, fuck.” His pleasure heightens suddenly, the backs of his thighs going pleasantly tingly and his toes curling in his boots. He can feel it starting to build, balls drawing closer to his body with every stroke.

“Close?” Copia whispers, gripping Dew’s hip tighter and shifting in his chair. He grunts a little, no doubt filled out in his slacks too. Dew can’t confirm from this angle, especially not with the way his vision blurs, doubles even. But he has to be, if his wavering voice is anything to go by.

Dew throbs at just the idea of his cock straining against his zipper, balls heavy and squished between his thighs as he watches the fire ghoul come apart. Neglecting it as he showers Dew with undivided attention. He’s assaulted with the mental image of Copia in those tight, white pants from his Cardinal days, absolutely everything on display, and he groans.

He’s shaking now, stomach jumping as his breath starts to quicken. He’s sure his eyes are wild as he looks at the man below him, whining through his teeth as his hand moves faster, faster. Dew watches Copia bite his lip and look down at the movements of his hand, and the sudden fantasy image of that mouth kissing the tip of his cock makes him grip the anti-pope’s forearm until it threatens to bruise, nearly doubling over with the swell of impending orgasm.

Dew needs him. He needs him so badly.

“Gonna cum—fuck, please,” he moans, breath quickening to shortened gasps. “Kiss me—please, m’ gonna—Papa—” Dew grasps at the man’s shirt collar, pulling at it to get him to stand. Dragging him in by the shoulders and kissing him fiercely, whining when Copia groans into his mouth and pumps him even faster. The scent on him is instantly intoxicating; notes of neroli and patchouli, dull wax from the black patches of makeup, the barest hint of incense smoke underneath. All pressed directly into his nostrils where Dew’s nose smushes against his.

“Proprio così,” Copia mumbles, encouraging. His other arm loops around to cradle him between the shoulder blades, hand threading through his hair to grasp and hold as he kisses him deeply. That little bit of tension on Dew’s scalp sends a zing of heat right to his dick, and he’s moaning like a whore as he scrabbles at Copia’s shirt, ready to fall over the edge.

“Fucking. Fu–uhh, uh, uhh—” Dew loses all sense of words as he clings to him, mouth dropping open and tongue drooling over Copia’s lips. He cums hard, spilling over his hand with a shuddering groan, bucking into that wet fist until he’s risking sliding off the edge of the desk. He doesn’t, of course, braced and embraced by Copia’s body as he is.

Dew’s head drops to his shoulder as he rides out the seemingly endless spasms. Far too many for a handy, if he’s being honest. But the anti-pope works him over until he’s milked dry, whispering more words into his hair that he doesn’t understand and rubbing a soothing hand over his back.

“Shit,” he rasps. After a few more moments he peeks down at his lap—lucid enough now to mind his horns—where his black pants are now streaked with white, Copia’s hand resting on his fly also coated in the stuff. He shakes his head softly and laughs.

“Got me good, old man.”

“Dewdrop . . .” His tone is pleading, breathless. Dew lifts his head and the hand on his back migrates to the side of his face, caressing softly. He leans into it as he looks at Copia, his face flushed and a look of pure want and adoration in his eyes. “Please, caro.”

He doesn’t need to ask what he needs, eyes flicking down to the tent in his pants and back up again. Dew nods. Moves the hands around Copia’s neck to the back of his head, pulling him in.

It’s less feverish this time. Softer and slower, but far from chaste. Idly he wonders if any of the others have had him like this: privately in his office, a mere exchange of something fleeting, or hot and heavy in a storage closet after a show, frantic and adrenaline-fueled.

If any of them have, they’ve never told. He’ll go back to the ghoul wing smelling of him, unless he runs straight to the shower. Douse himself in scalding hot water until he can barely smell himself.

But he won’t.

Dew slides into the space in front of Copia, ignoring the mess on his dick as he presses close to the man. Licking into his mouth and sliding their tongues together as Copia’s hands start to roam. The fire ghoul slots a thigh between his legs as his palms reach his waist, pressing against his crotch.

Copia whines in his throat, twisting his fingers into the fabric of Dew’s shirt. He’s hard as steel against his leg, throbbing when Dew presses harder and tugging at him like he could still get closer than he already is.

“Sit down,” Dew rumbles. He breaks the kiss and holds his gaze as he presses on his shoulders, easing him back into the desk chair. Down, down, down until Dew looms over him. He smirks slightly, confidence and ease returning to him as their positions switch. Running his thumb along the painted upper lip then dragging down to the bare one.

Wordlessly, the fire ghoul sinks to his knees. Scoots Copia to the edge of his chair so he can spread his legs. He smooths his palms up his thighs, his infernal heat seeping through the trousers. He watches Copia’s face as he pets at him, cupping and rubbing at his cock through the layers of fabric. The man’s chest heaves. Hands gripping the wooden arms of his chair. Exhaling shakily as Dew traces a claw around the button on his fly.

“Allow me,” Dew purrs.

#the band ghost #fanfic #the band ghost fanfic #ghost fanfic #dewdrop ghoul #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #copia x dewdrop #dewdrop x copia #papa x dewdrop #dewdrop x papa #copia/dewdrop #dewdrop/copia #papa/dewdrop #dewdrop/papa #CORRECTLY translated italian #dews gonna go back to the dorms and theyre gonna smell copia on him and then EVERYONES gonna want him

145 notes · View notes

earthry · 9 months

Text

Papas and Reader!Familiars (Familiar AU Headcanons)

Alrighty here's my little AU idea where familiars are necessary to the Emeritus bloodline because they soak up any excess demonic energy from their bonded ones; preventing madness and corruption that can happen if there's too much in the papa's body. It's a mutual symbiotic relationship between a familiar and a papa. The Emeritus bloodline naturally generates demonic energy; this tends to boil over during rituals or other specific occasions. Too much demonic energy is harmful to its host. Familiars don't generate their own demonic energy but they need it to survive outside the pit; they're similar to ghouls but have an animal form-- when weakened they cannot take human form. When each Emeritus brother becomes a papa, a familiar is summoned for them to bond to. Familiars all have a demonic form if they have enough energy stored in them that looks vaguely like an eldritch horror. This is so they can protect their papas <3

tw: sfw, brief mentions of violence and injuries/blood, lots of fluff, this is the cute fluffy animal edition. might make another headcanon post with the reader as other animals depending on the reception of this one.

Primo

When Primo first summoned you, you were just a cute little ball of fur with huge eyes. The cutest fruit bat to ever fruit bat— that’s you! You may be half blind but you knew he was going to be yours the first time you saw him. With joy, you fly to his shoulder and then smack right into it, to which he lets out a panicked cry and manages to catch you before you hit the ground. You click happily at him. Your bonded protected you! This was very good news!

His gardening actually begins with you, wanting to grow fresh fruit and veggies for you to snack on. Lazy mornings and afternoons napping on his shoulder or in his pocket while he tends to his plants and trees. He talks with you sometimes, and you give him little clicks and chirps in response.

You spend an equal amount of time in your bat form as your human form— sometimes you garden with Primo. It’s a pastime that becomes special for the two of you, time spent together growing life and watching the flowers bloom.

Unfortunately you can’t attend his rituals because the noise hurts your sensitive ears too much— which you’re very sad about because you want to hear your papa sing. He makes this up to you by singing to you sleep most nights. Your favorite sleeping position is snuggled right on top of his head, sometimes laying straight over his forehead. He thinks it’s a bit much but if it makes you happy then who is he to complain?

Secondo

Was not sure what to do with you when you were first summoned for him. You are the most unlikely familiar for this man-- you are a bunny rabbit. You are so petite, so small. You fit in his hands and have soft little ears and a cute button nose that twitches when you're annoyed. You are also in bad shape when he receives you, injured and bleeding and barely holding on. If it wasn’t for the bond that formed between the two of you, you may not have survived.

Once he bonds to you, you heal a little faster but you're still very weak during your first few months on the surface. You were very distrusting of Secondo at first, biting and gnawing on his hands and fingers each time he got close-- but he persisted, bringing you all sorts of fresh delicious veggies to snack on, wrestling with you to change your bandages and make sure you're healing correctly. Eventually you warm up to him and now you're both practically inseparable.

You wear a silky beautiful green ribbon around your neck that claims you as Secondo's; everyone knows not to touch you for fear of Papa's wrath. He has pockets with soft lining sewn into all his papal robes so he can carry you around safely in his pocket.

You stomp angrily when you're upset and Secondo finds it way too cute to actually feel threatened. You often sleep on his chest over his heart or tucked into the crook of his neck. You love nothing more than his scritches behind your ears and when he gently rubs your little bunny tummy.

You're distrustful of other humans but you get along well enough with the ghouls. You're only in your human form around Secondo or ghouls. Secondo is fiercely protective of you. You may not be human but that doesn't mean you're particularly powerful or strong either (at least not to Secondo’s knowledge). You're totally fine with that because it means you get spoiled rotten by your papa. To him, you’re just a soft squishy little dude! You can’t fend for yourself you’re baby!

It’s only when your Papa is in danger, passed out and demonic energy in him rises dangerously that you rest your little head against his chest to soak up all that energy— and once you do, you don’t let anyone near Secondo. I imagine that at your most powerful you increase to the size of a large wolf and you’re like this scary demonic rabbit with extra eyes and sharp teeth and claws and people just fear you. You curl up around your bonded and snap your jaws and snarl at anyone who tries to approach. After that they call you a demon rabbit but Secondo doesn’t believe them. Like come on, a demon rabbit? You? You’re just a little guy, you couldn’t hurt a fly if you wanted to.

Terzo

You are a little bit of a brat and you love causing trouble— which honestly makes a little sense since you are a raccoon. You’re very poofy with a clever nose and fluffy tail. The first time you are summoned you promptly chomp down hard on Terzo’s ankle as a show of affection.

Unlike the other papa’s familiars, you prefer your human form when you’re in public which makes it easier to accompany your papa anywhere he goes. You’re not exactly pocket-sized, though you’re sure if you were it’d be a whole different story.

You love baths, love nothing more than soaking in bubbles and scrubbing yourself nice and clean. Terzo spares no expenses when it comes to you, so you have endless choices of essential oils, bath bombs, salts, and fancy soaps. Anything you want, you have it. He gives you a Etsy account with his card registered to it so that you can pick out whatever you want to pamper yourself with.

Your favorite place to sleep in your animal form is under Terzo’s shirt or robe when he’s wearing it, where it’s warm and you can rub your cheek against his squishy belly. Sometimes you burrow to the other side, poking your nose out of the collar and squeezing your head out, with Terzo’s chin resting on top of you between your ears.

You are in the middle of a long prank war with his ghouls and you are currently winning. Just last week you dyed Dewdrop’s hair hot pink and he’s been PISSED. Anyone else would have been dead meat but you’re lucky enough that he likes you. Aether is begging you not get him involved but you’re being crafty and trying to drag him into it somehow.

Terzo’s bed is your burrow, your cozy little nest. You steal all sorts of shiny bits and bobs from all over the abby and they wind up here, tucked and hidden away under blankets and pillows and each time Terzo goes to bed he has to do a check to make sure you didn’t take anything that would get you in trouble and to make sure he doesn’t sleep on anything dangerous.

Your favorite nights with Terzo are curled around his shoulders in raccoon form and chittering at him as he cooks for the two of you in his kitchen. Every so often when he’s not looking you’ll stick your little paws into whatever sauce or dough or sneak a piece or two of dinner-in-process and each time he catches you, you give him the biggest, widest ‘i’m so innocent you can’t be mad at me, look at me I’m just a baby’ look and he can’t help but kiss your little nose after he scolds you. Or even better when he catches you with a morsel or pasta noodle in your paws and you make eye contact while slowly bringing it up to your mouth while he goes: ‘tesoro— no. Don’t you dare. Don’t. Do not eat that. Put that down this instant or I swear—“ and then you shove it into your mouth and continue to stare at him while chewing slowly. Yeah you’re a menace but he loves you dearly.

Copia

You are a little itty bitty rat and Copia loves you and coddles you and spoils you so much. You were literally the perfect summon for Copia and the ministry took that as a sign of luck and prosperity for Copia's run as Papa.

He has a special little pillow for you to nap on by his bed but it doesn’t get used often. If he’s also sleeping, you prefer to nestle on top of him or in his arms. If he’s not there, you often go to snuggle with his other rats. The first time this happened Copia had a panic attack because he couldn’t find you and you were buried under his other rats in their cage so he didn’t see you until you woke up from his panicked Copia noises.

Much like Secondo's familiar, you prefer your animal form. You find it easier to stay by Copia's side plus he thinks you're so cute like this! He coos and aws at you whenever you do something extremely cute (which is almost everything) and you eat that shit up! Love? Affection? Yeah, rat form is best form in your opinion.

You have a close relationship with Copia’s ghouls, often sitting in to hear them practice or snuggling with them during their cuddle piles. They’re always very careful not to squish you— though there’s been a few scares.

You get round and pudgy from all the snacks Copia gives you, not that you’re complaining because now ‘you’re even cuter’ according to Copia. But he also worries about your health so he does actually cut down your snacks a little to your disappointment. You do a lot of angry squeaking and scrabbling and gnawing at his hands for it, to which he only chuckles a little, “Ah ah, come now little one, let’s not be too upset, si? I want to make sure you’re healthy, that way you can live a very long and happy life alongside your papa.” And okay, you guess if he puts it like that you can bear it for a little while. You still pout and sulk about not getting extra snackies like usual and he gives you kissies and extra cuddles to make up for it.

You love when he holds you in the palms of his hands, your tail curled around one of his fingers as your little paws hug another. Your eyes become happy crescents and you make contented squeaks as he scratches behind your ears.

206 notes · View notes

dearlymrme · 1 year

Note

hi hi! i just read on the contrary and wow what a fantastic idea. i’m sure you’re working on part 2, but i’m literally on my knees begging for headcanons of how you think each of the ghouls would go about taking your virginity in that universe.. if given the opportunity.

would rain be shy? would dew catch a whiff and have to take you in a dark corner?

please, i have to know

I had planned to write a sequel to a different take to the story of what would happen if the ghouls had gotten to you first instead of Copia but I could just as easily summarize it with some headcanons so, here you go. Thank you so much for asking Nonny, and I'm glad you like the story. I hope this does well to tide you over for the second part of On The Contrary.

Train Ride (Nameless Ghoul's x Reader)

Summary: You know that one meme of the girl on the couch surrounded by mischievous grinning men. Make that couch a nest and those men the Nameless Ghoul's. That’s you.

Nameless Ghouls x Reader (All of Them) || Orgy || Squirting || Oral Sex || Vaginal Sex || Overstimulation || Aftercare || Virginity Kink || WC: 3565

Aether had said to follow him and that it was urgent and important. He leads you down the crypt and into a room near the back. There, you see the entire squad of ghouls lazing about on beanbag chairs and a couch. In the middle of the room made of pillows and blankets and clothes and a mattress on the ground, is what you can best describe as a nest. And is that? Yes, that's definitely one of your shirts. A favorite actually that had gone missing. But the most alarming thing to catch your attention was that their masks were off.

Aether closes the door behind you and, with some shuffling, removes his own mask. Then he gets right down to brass tax. In fewer words, the conversation is best summarized as…

"We know you're a virgin." There's no question about it. They smell it, and you are divine. A temptation too powerful to ignore and that they can't ignore. It goes against their nature.

"Well, yes." You nervously respond, looking out over the eight demons in the room. Aether knocks his hand into your comfortably with a smile.

"We could help you with that, ya know. If you want." And well, you did want your first time to be memorable.

Cirrus, Cumulus, and Sunshine are the ones leading the charge. Out of all the ghouls, they are the most patient and will be safeguarding you from the horny boys as best as they can to make sure this experience is not only a pleasurable one but a fun one. The men tend to get a little carried away when an innocent is at play and these three mama bears are not shy to drag any of the boys away by their horn or ear if they start to get too rough.

They are the ones to lay out the rules and ask questions. Do you know what a safeword is? Do you know about the color system? Do you want to use condoms? What about the morning after pill? What do you normally do to get off? How? They ask you to show them, and that's how they get you started. They lay you out in the middle of the nest and circle around you. They watch you, all of them, naked and aroused, as you start to slide your fingers into your folds and curl and thrust your digits. How you treat your clit, the motions of your hands. An audience of eight all mouthwatering over you.

That's when our three lovely ghoulette’s slide in around you. Cirrus in front and sealing her mouth over your petals as Sunshine flicks and plays with your clit with one hand and teases your nipples with the other. Cumulus is exploring your mouth and swallowing your moans while running your fingers through your hair and pretty much giving you a head massage to keep you nice and comfortable. For right now this is all about you and getting you prepared for what's to come.

Cirrus eats you out. A gourmet meal fit for a queen, and she's very wet about it. Slurping and sucking, kissing, and licking. Burying her face between your legs with no hesitation and attacking your cunt with savage intent. She's taking her time with it though. A nice and slow opening moment to a very long and wild song. She treats you like fine China as she works her hand and fingers to explore your walls.

You've never had a mouth down there before, and as a first experience, it is mind-blowing. She does not stop you from rolling your hips. Nor does she stop you from clamping your thighs around her head. She growls into your folds when you slip your hand into her hair and pull and momentarily takes away her mouth to tell you.

"Pull harder." You don't deny her, even run your nails in, but then she rewards you with a grunt as her tail curls around one of your legs, and she returns to work, a little faster now. Her long forked tongue licks your walls and the wet velvet like texture has never been felt before and causes your toes to curl and moans happily eaten by Cumulus as she eats your sounds for breakfast encouraging your tongue to dance and tangle with her long forked one.

Sunshine is stroking your body. Your chest, playing with your nipples, tickling down your sides. Her hand reaches down to play with your clit just how you like it, licking her fingers before swashing it over the tender little bud with the experience of someone who's an expert. Tempting you with a single nail for a small pleasant bit of hardness but she is careful. She makes sure to not overwhelm you too much out the gate but you're taking it all very well.

After you come for the first time, that's when Cirrus starts to finger you. And they've obviously been planning this for a while because the nails of her key fingers have been filed short. You're easily slippery and relaxed enough to start with two and she carefully swipes and sweeps and curls inside of you, looking for that tender bundle of nerves and the gasp you reward her with gets everyone to groan.

Circulating between kissing Sunshine and Cumulus is enough of a distraction that Cirrus adds that third finger you are a little uncomfortable with. It's a stretch, a little burn, and easily adjustable. She keeps at it until you come for a second time, and then the show really starts.

As much as they wanted Mountain to be the first as he is the most 'tame' out of the lot, they were worried his size may intimidate you. So, he gave up the honor of being your first and handed the position to Aether. The first one to sniff you out since the beginning. And the one of them that all but demanded to be your first. There had been a fight between him and Dew over this, Dew living up to his name of Alpha but Aether had won with his teeth in Dew’s neck and Dew sufficiently cowed by the sudden strength and determination of his fellow bandmate.

And Aether is a perfect gentleman. Average in size and knows how to use it. He is gentle with you, slicking the head of his bare cock over your fluids and pussy lips before slowly and steadily rocking into you. The ghoulette’s actively reminds you to breathe as his cock head stretches a channel never used before and when fully seated the girls all give you praise and 'good job' and Aether hits you with that…

"Look at you. You took me so well." And hisses when you clench in arousal because that's a thing you didn't expect to spark heat in your gut.

He goes as gently as you need to and his thumb circles your clit to keep you stimulated past the uncomfortable burn that comes with a first time. Each rock of his hips stretches you out and you can practically feel your pulse in your tight muscles, like a second heartbeat. The girls do their best to keep you comfortable, trailing their hands down your body and playing with your breasts but finally when the pain subsides you give them the green go ahead.

“You can go faster.”

And the noises. The wet slapping of his cock combined with Cirrus spit and your cum, the loud slick of his cock as he pumps in and out of you as fast as he can like a man running from death. The squelch of your juices around his dick as you tighten and constrict around his member. The noise is what does you in. What does Aether in is how hot and needy your body is for his seed, clenching tight and squeezing his cock in waves.

He cums abruptly and gives himself a disappointed groan by how quick the round is over. But you’re blissed, leaning back into Cumulus and fuzzy from your head to your toes. Aether leans down and gives you a passionate kiss before coming up to bunker down at your side, leaning against you comfortably and sniffing your hair, purring all the while.

Dew is next, of course. There are still no regrets at this point. You can normally go three rounds with yourself with the right angle and determination, but this is the point when you realize you are going to be tired and sore tomorrow. Fascinated and a bit possessive with Aether’s cum sliding out of you, Dew leans down to clean you up, his long tongue wiping you down with every drag and you can feel the bumps of his taste buds as he laps at your folds like an ice cream cone.

Then he slides into you with a low groan and sets a very nice even pace, less thrusting and more rolling of his hips. He angles, so you're on your side with one leg up. It’s nice, and then he strikes your g-spot and has you gasping and clinging to Aether who purrs and nuzzles you into his neck. Tail sliding down to molest your clit and Dew bares his teeth having his turn taken but Aether ignores him and strokes you through it. Dew finishes with a roar and your fourth orgasm hits you like a freight train with Aether’s sure strokes to your clit.

This is the point in which you take a break. The team lets you catch your breath, gives you bottles of water, and helps to clean you up a little. You asked how you're doing. If they are doing okay? Is there something you want done? You make mention that you're a little disappointed that the ghoulette’s didn’t get anything from their turn with you and are given a grin.

Next round is made up of Cumulus asking if you’d like to eat her out and Cirrus showing you what scissoring is. The taste of Cumulus is salty but not bad, a good first experience with a ghoulette who loves running her fingers through your hair and scratching your scalp softly with her more than dangerous claws. Her nails feel nice in your hair as you curiously taste her and fuck her with your tongue, sucking on her bud and flicking it gently. It’s a nice and smooth ride and she’s already pent up from watching so it doesn’t take long for her to come and you’re again washed with praise.

Cirrus helps you roll your hips and comes apart on you with a rough growl and shudder, baring her teeth as she locks up on top of you and you likewise locking up below her. The ghoulette is all but shoved off by Sunshine as the newest of the band reveals to you a long purple silicon cock with double ends and a raised and excited brow.

Your fifth comes quick and fast after your fourth, linked together in quick succession and you really didn’t think you had it in you, but Sunshine sets a fast pace and the dildo has been ribbed with little bumps to cause a wonderful kind of friction to your gooey walls. There is a wet squelch and a very embarrassing amount of wetness when you come, and mortification overwhelms you when you realize what you have done. But the band are looking at you with absolute joy and glee in their faces.

“I got you to squirt!” Sunshine beams, puffing out her chest proudly and showing off. “Holy shit! Take that, you guys! I got the virgin to squirt!”

Rain cleans you up with his tongue. Seeking out every bit of moisture from between your thighs and sucking it greedily into his mouth, lapping at you like a dog. When he feels you're sufficiently cleaned up, he lines up his dick and starts to press.

But Rain is long, long enough that with each thrust there’s a small bit of pain as he reaches the deepest part of you. It’s uncomfortable. You tell them that and the fuck ends. Rain apologizes for the pain but you still want to keep going. So Sunshine asks if you’d like to try your hand at sucking cock.

That’s a yes. So you’re resituated in the nest to be sitting up, back supported given your first chance to get up close and personal with a real dick. He lets you explore, take your time, even though his thighs and lower stomach twitch as you grace his shaft with your fingers. It’s hot, his skin as soft as silk, and still coated in your juices. Finally, you take his cock in your mouth, tasting your own flavor and the saltiness of his precome. Your jaw quickly starts to ache, not used to being open for so long and while you can’t fit all of him in your mouth, you're told to take your time and only as much as you want. You’re not gonna deep throat him your first try, likely not your first time either. That takes practice so don’t feel bad about it and don’t try to choke yourself.

“But if you really wanna, you're welcome to practice with me as much as you want after this.”

Aether gives a possessive growl and has his tail pulled vengefully by Dew in an effort to cut it out, but it only makes him more agitated. The girl’s have to pull the two apart when they start swinging for each other’s dicks.

While sucking on Rain, you're not shy to grab the rest of his length and stroke. You explore his shaft and fondling his balls, which gets a very nice sound out of the ghoul. So you move your mouth to his suck on one of his testicles. Rain is quick to rip your mouth away and slip his finger against your bottom lip to keep you mouth open before stroking his cock and abruptly coming on your tongue. Actually cum is interesting, a lot stronger, and very bitter. It doesn’t make you gag but it does cause your face to scrunch at the taste.

Cumulus slaps Rain over the head for not asking first but they’re both stunned when you swallow his cum and reopen your mouth to show them just how much of a good girl you are and Aether is quick to try and chase down that taste with his own tongue and have another opportunity to kiss you again.

“Look at you.” He says in between sucking your lips and your tongue. “You’re turning into a little slut. Such a good girl. Such a good little slut for us.”

Swiss apologetically kisses you between your legs in an effort to do away with some of the soreness from Rain and get you ready for himself and then Mountain. He asks if he can try a different position, which, of course, he can. And you're seated in his lap, facing away from him and given a nice show of Cumulus sitting on Dew’s face.

Swiss directs you to lean back which you do and hefts you up by your ass, your legs falling open to give everyone a nice view as his cock slides into you and he starts a very fast pace, jack-knifing into you frantically and reaching deep, gliding along your inner walls easily given how wet and lose you are at this point. The noises are getting to you again, not just your own hoarse moans but that of Cumulus as Dew treats her right. And your eyes fill with tears at just how damn good it is.

In this position it’s easy for Aether to molest and suck on your tits, pulling at your nipples and rolling them with his fingers until they pebble. Sucking mark and mark on one side of your neck as Swiss attacks the other. Aether’s fingers go down to assault your very much swollen and very much sensitive clit and stroke your puffy folds around Swiss’s cock and it’s an interesting feeling. It tickles and god you feel so hot down there, so tender and the oversensitivity brings even more tears to your eyes.

It doesn’t take long for you to come again and you do so with a scream and yelp as Aether nips your tit before burying his face between your breasts and sighing, blissfully content in the comfort of your shaking body.

The room smells of sex and a weird kind of spice. It’s break time again before the finale, more water, more praise. Aether is rubbing against you like a cat and asks if he can have you again after Mountain and you’re not sure you have it in you. Your body is heavy, and your eyes are starting to sag. But when you turn him down, he acts so respectable about it that you can’t help but want to give him another go.

After all, Aether has been the prominent one. He’s not been shy to approach like the other ghouls. He’s helped you get around the Abbey when you first joined, answered your questions, and gave you confidence at the sermons and parties to go out of your comfort zone. So you tell him yes, and the ghoul lights up with a fanged smile and glittering eyes.

Mountain is ready, and you can understand why he was saved for last. He is very proportionate, very thick and veiny. You practically gulp at how much of a challenge it seems to have to take him but he assured you that with everything you just went though, he’s going to slide in like a key fitting into a lock. You're lifted up with his impressive strength and laid on his lap. You're in control of this because, as mentioned before, he’s big, and the best way to make sure you don’t hurt yourself is if you yourself are in charge.

You line up and sink down, and there’s a little pinch, but he’s right. It’s like a glove. The big ghoul gives a low groan at how carefully slow you take him but paws at your hips to help you lift up and down on his cock. He’s got the strength to practically use you as a doll if he wanted and he more than happily guides you into a nice and languid pace before he gets close enough to want to chase his own release and roughly starts taking more control. He gets a smack on his ear from Sunshine and gives a frustrated whimper when he tones it back down but you're more than happy to make up for him as you yourself start to speed things up.

Your thighs are burning by the time it’s over and with his pelvis making such good friction against your clit has you rolling over the edge for the eighth time that night.

At this point, you're little more than a ragdoll. Your limbs are heavy, and your breathing is labored, but you’re determined to make it nine and give Aether what you think he deserves and beckon him forward. He gives you a series of sweet kisses to your face and becomes a nice cool down for everything that has just happened.

Aether is ‘first’ and he is last. But this is a slow fuck. Long thrusts of him pulling almost entirely out and all the way back in. There’s plenty of clit stimulation, even though at this point it nearly hurts to have it touched. But when you reach down to grab his hand to hold instead he understands and leaves well enough alone, instead linking your fingers together as he gently grinds into you. It’s a very passionate fuck, very smooth and very bump and grind more that thrust. It ends with him curled over you giving you sweet kisses as you hold him to your body in a soft hug.

It’s a long night. The ghouls are more than sated, and you have been corrupted nine times over. They tend to you like a queen. They clean you up with a warm rag and keep you hydrated. They offer you sweets and cuddle you. You don’t remember when you fell asleep, likely passed out, but wake to vibrating bodies and the sweet sound of content purring in your ears.

Just like you had suspected, you were sore and groggy, but just like you had wanted, it was the most memorable night of your life.

...

So far.

…

Meanwhile, Copia wonders where just where you are and why you haven’t answered his summons. He considers Aether, and his eyes widen under the realization of what might have happened. But there's no reason for him to stand and send out a search party. He’s very confident his ghouls are taking good care of you.

For some reason though, there’s a bitter ache in his heart at the thought.

769 notes · View notes

ghuleh-recs · 6 months

Note

hi! i'm a new Ghost fan and i would love to get some fic recs since i don't know where to start. 😊 i'm pretty much open to anything but something with lots of feelings (hurt/comfort), Papa IV x someone, and around 15,000 words would be great. thank you in advance 🧡

hellooo! welcome to our little satanic corner of tumblr!! i'm so sorry this took me so long—i had a tough time finding fics that matched your criteria. i hope it's okay that i focused on "feelings" more so than hurt/comfort specifically. definitely give these writers a follow if you haven't already. (i also wasn't sure what you meant by "x someone" so i threw in a mix of x reader, x ghoul, and x oc.) feel free to dm me or send another ask if i didn't get it right this time! i can also point you towards a bunch of fantastic writers ♡

recs under the cut!

x ghouls

paper armor - @ratballet - copia x dewdrop

“Horns,” Aether says quickly, like the words in his mouth are searing him. “It’s his horns.” He spares a glance at Dewdrop’s door, like he’s afraid he might be pressed up against it, listening. “He’s shedding them." Dewdrop is shedding his horns. Copia tries to help.

Steadfast Love, Not Sacrifice - @st-danger - copia x aether x dewdrop

It’s a bit like a shark smelling blood, he thinks as they follow close behind. It's natural they were going to want to taste it, too. “Well,” Copia says, “some of us need our beauty sleep.” He hesitates, and then proceeds to look nervously between the two of them and continue, “I meant me, of course. You two are already very, erm. I should go to bed.” It’s such a flimsy excuse. The elevator reaches the third floor before any of them speak again. Aether clears his throat. “You don’t want to though.” Copia looks very called out, but can’t do much more than stare, before realizing the two ghouls beside him are waiting for an actual answer of some kind. The elevator beeps as it passes the fourth floor. “No,” Copia says slowly, and Aether’s stomach does a little swoop. “I don’t.” Or, Sometimes the reward is worth the risk. *No Man Taketh From is another favorite of mine with Papa IV and Aether.

x reader

A Message From the Bulletin Board - @writingjourney - copia x reader

The ministry’s bulletin board, ordinarily used for missing items or party announcements, contains a particularly interesting request this week – a lonely hearts ad. Or: You and Copia are secretly crushing on each other. You both have to reach maximum desperation before you make a move. * if you're in it for the long haul PLEASE read I Knew Nothing But Shadows THE hurt/comfort fic of all time. you won't regret it.

Confessional - @da-rulah - copia x reader

As a sister of sin, it was your duty to confess at least once a month, to have your sins praised by a higher up member of the clergy. But you only ever chose Thursday nights, when you knew he was on duty. And tonight, you were working up the courage to confess your darkest sin - the dreams you had been having… *check out Rituale Septem while you're at it. lotsss of feelings but with Papa III, instead.

x OC

sweeter red - @anamelessfool - copia x oc

Your kiss so sweet, your sweat so sour…sometimes I’m thinking that I love you... but I know it’s only lust. Copia is a scrungly little nerd and this totally happened to him. There's something about Cardinal Marian. Maybe it's the way she infuriates him with her laissez-faire attitude, or ingnites his soul with envy of her free spirit. Rage and love, at a certain point they merge together into an overwhelming burning in the heart and mind: passion.

you found the ache in my argument (series) - @the-lisechen - copia x oc

In which two reasonable people from different religious disciplines have a conversation. (A study in faith, hope, and love.)

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, leave kudos and/or comments!

#my fic recs #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia #papa iv x aether x dew #papa iv x dew #papa iv x reader #papa iv x oc #papa emeritus iv fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fic #the band ghost fic rec #fic rec!!#ghost band fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #ghost fic #spicy tag

76 notes · View notes

kabukiaku · 8 months

Text

love and appreciate your local satanic popestar!!! 🖤✨

#my art #papa emeitus iv #copia #popia copia #dewdrop ghoul #dewdrop #nameless ghouls #re imperatour #impera era #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost band fanart #digital art #dont tell terzo i stole his coined term popestar in favor for copia #anyways more love for copia cause there is a severe LACK of copia in my art #anyways erm... i hope this doesnt awaken anything in me #does anyone else ahem.....pair these two #copia x dew

3K notes · View notes

st-danger · 5 months

Note

i wish you’d write a fic where dewdrop gets humiliated in front of the other ghouls (or the clergy during mass/the crowd during a show, maybe) and gets off on it

I have two particular ideas I would like to and am planning to write for this, that have been rattling around my brain for A Very Long Time.

The first,

Some dubcon as Dew finds himself fondled and...helped onto an altar in front of the Clergy and Papa. Sex magick, you understand. Sacrifices and offerings to be made. If only someone had given him a head's up that he was meant to be playing an important part in tonight's ceremony. It doesn't take long for a few of the siblings around him on the pews to scoot in closer to him. Closer. Reaching for him. Friendly hands that rub his shoulders a little too long, friendly hands he can't shake off. Friendly hands that are persistent and coax him hard before he can get away, and by then he isn't sure he wants to.

The second,

Dew, face hot under his helmet while Papa announces to the crowd his little devil is just so, so excited to be playing for them this evening. Pries the guitar up and away to show everyone the way his pants are stretched, much to Dew's mortification. But the show has to go on, and would they all perhaps like to see something extra special? Would they all like to have a little bit more fun than usual? Dew's hand tightens impossibly harder around the neck of the Hagstrom, and Papa's gloved hand trails up his thigh...

122 notes · View notes

daddyissuesatthefinest · 10 months

Text

My little Gremlin <3

Also, HANDS

@thebandghostofficial

138 notes · View notes

zombie-rott · 4 months

Text

The Driftwood & The Rift; Part I.

Pairing: Mountain X Dew.

Summary:

Not everyone enjoys Yule. Least of all the ministry's favourite fire ghoul. Marred by his sordid past in the pit, Dew locks himself away to begin his yearly tradition, but with Swiss no longer there to control him, things get out of hand. And if he's going to be banished for his shameful behaviour, he might as well tell one of his oldest friends exactly where his feelings lie.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, blood, injury, ghouls kissing.

A03

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Yule time at the ministry was always filled with joyous energy. It was a time for the clergy members, siblings and ghouls alike to come together and celebrate the winter solstice. Every square inch of the hallways and arches was meticulously decorated with holly wreaths, mistletoe and the sweetest-smelling pine trees harvested from the local mountains. The smell of fresh baking wafted throughout the kitchen quarters, and there was a distinct increase in sweet treats available after every meal time. Everyone practically oozed festiveness and excitement for the upcoming days of celebration.

Almost everyone.

There were a few who simply detested the season. Dew was among those who rejected the holidays and always had done. The ringing in of the season brought with it what Swiss called Dew’s ‘hibernation’, where in the fire-ghoul spent more time in his room than he did with the pack. In years gone by Swiss often opted to keep Dew company, playing card games with him on Solstice eve and eating some meals with him on the floor by his bedside. But since his mating with Cumulus, the multi-ghoul had a new focus. And while he still very much loved his platonic soulmate, he had many things to celebrate and enjoy about the season that he hadn’t had before.

When Mother’s Night arrived, Dew went about his usual Yule tradition. After his chores, he arrived back to the den to grab a Tupperware box of food from the platter Mountain was creating. He gave subtle nods to Swiss in the living area and meekly waved to others as he passed them by in the halls. Once he was locked securely in his bedroom, he lined his nest with soft blankets and began his yearly hibernation until January first, when he would emerge hungover and eager to move past the holiday season. There were only two reasons he had to leave; the Yule ritual and the First Footing, neither of which band ghouls were permitted to miss.

Dew did his best to ignore the din of the ghouls celebrating in the common area by drowning them out with music from his record player. At one point there was a chorus of singing as the ghouls indulged in vodka and mulled wine. The fire ghoul, already three glasses of rum into his ritual, turned his music higher. Eventually, there came the hammering of knocks on his door, drawing him out of his sanctuary and across the cold, stone floor.

“Yeah?” Dew barked as stretched to look through the peephole.

Swiss was standing on the other side, his face blushing with intoxication and a toothy grin pulling at his lips. He had one arm slung around Cumulus and the other pulling Rain against his side.

“‘Mon out Dewy!” He slurred, “I know you hate Yule, but we miss you, man!”

“You can’t force him out, love,” Cumulus whispered to her mate.

“Yes we can!” Rain interrupted. He began to hammer at the door again, both his fists pounding the wood, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

Dew growled as his hackles began to rise and his blood started to simmer. He listened as Cumulus attempted to quiet the other ghouls, pleading with them to take it easy on their friend and respect his decision. But they wouldn’t let up, and Dew hissed as Swiss and Rain leaned into bang their fists once again.

Before their knuckles could hit the wood, he yanked open the door and met them both, fists raised, with a guttural snarl. His clenched jaw and exposed teeth caused the two excitable ghouls to lower their ears, both emitting a meek whine.

“Dew! I’m so sorry. They insisted on coming to see you.” Cumulus apologised, taking a subtle step backwards to avoid the heat radiating from the fire ghoul.

“S’okay Lus. You weren’t to know. But these two?” he turned his attention to Swiss and Rain,” Are you fucking kidding me?”

“We jus’ wanna’ include you, Dewdrop!” Rain whined, his arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture.

“You know damn fine I don’t want ‘included.’”

“But Papa is here-” Swiss interjected.

“So? I’ve food and rum. I don’t need Papa.”

Dew narrowed his eyes and hissed at them scornfully. Cumulus jumped, clasping her hands to her chest. She whispered her apologies and hurriedly ran back to the common area, leaving her mate and Rain behind.

“If I want to come out, then I’ll come out. Just assume I’m happy in my loathing of this shitty season, yeah?” The fire ghoul continued before slamming the door in their faces.

He didn’t even glance through the peephole to watch them leave, despite how amusing it would have been to watch them shuffle back to the pack, tails tucked between their legs.

His anger and frustration at their audacity made his skin crawl. Swiss, of all ghouls, knew how much Yule turned Dew’s stomach. They’d been best friends for years, and during that time had always spent the majority of the season together in a drunken stupor. Yet, the moment he finds himself a mate and experiences a slight resemblance of domestic bliss, he’s suddenly ‘Mr.Good-Tidings’.

Dew let out a deep growl at the thought, his claws practically itching to pull something apart. The palms of his hands spraked and lit with burning fury, and yet he knew there was nowhere for it safely to go. He’d danced with his anger many times before, and his walls bore the scorch marks to prove it. But he was a grown ghoul now, and more in tune with keeping his emotions and impulses under check. Even while tipsy on cheap rum, he wasn’t ready to let the beast break free. Not quite yet and not in the solitude of his sanctuary.

Taking several deep breaths he marched to the bathroom and turned his shower to the coldest temperature on the dial. He then grabbed hold of his rum bottle, stripped down and sat directly under the chill of the water. With each piercing droplet, he felt the heat within him dissipate. Gone was the far-off din of the ghoul pack, and with it went his hatred for his fellow kin.

All that was left behind was the bitter taste of alcohol as it guided him ever closer to numbness.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Dew awoke the next afternoon with a hangover resembling that of an earthquake breaking apart his skull. He groaned as he lifted himself from the floor of his room, cracking his limbs as he moved. While this was a normal part of his Yule ritual, Swiss was usually around to offer words of encouragement or at least solidarity in his suffering. But this year he was alone, and despite his internal temperature, cold.

From down the hall he heard the muted sounds of his ghoul kin preparing for the Winter Solstice feast. With the Sun Vigil long since finished at sunrise, Dew was in no doubt that the pack where giddy with excitement for that evening’s festivities, the thought bringing a bitter taste to his mouth. He would have to attend the ritual that night, or Sister would have his head.

Rubbing at his eyes, he staggered to the bathroom. The empty rum bottle lay sideways by the shower tray, water still pooled on the tiles and a damp towel was thrown across the sink. He bit back nausea as he brushed his fangs and pulled back his hair into a tight ponytail. But for what? Another day of drinking in solitude?

A persistent knocking drew him away from his haggard reflection.

“Dewdrop!?” Came the distinct voice of Phantom, usually ethereal but now shrill to the fire ghoul’s ears.

Dew pinched at the bridge of his nose and groaned. He reminded himself that this was Phantom’s first Yule, and the little bug didn’t know any better than to try and build bridges.

“Yes, Bug?” he called, his voice hoarse and alien in the silence of his room.

“I just wanted to check you’re okay.”

Despite his hardened shell, Dew felt his heart flutter. Satan below, he hated how weak it made him feel.

“I’m fine.” He bit back.

The knowledge that he was the resident ‘Grinch Ghoul’ wasn’t lost on Dew, and at times he even relished it. But for some reason, it wasn’t as fun when he didn’t have Swiss to wallow with him. Instead, he was left feeling like a bitter old man, angry at the world for daring to keep spinning. It was no one’s fault, least of all Phantoms.

With a sigh, he moved towards the door and opened it just enough to lock eyes on the younger ghoul. Phantom was bundled up in his usual oversized clothing, his fingers toying with the hem and his eyes wide like saucers. Their sparkle was lost, and that in itself turned Dew’s anger to nothing but embers.

“W-we’re having dinner soon. Do-do you want to join us?” the young ghoul stammered, his lips twitching upwards into a hap-hazard smile.

“I don’t do Yule dinner, Bug.”

“Oh...” Phantom looked downwards at his feet as he contemplated his next move.

“I’ll grab something later. Okay, kid? Don’t worry, I won’t starve in here.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Dew searched Phantom’s eyes only to discover genuine concern. Satan below, why did the little bug have to make this so damn difficult?

“Just leave me alone. That’s all there is to it,” he answered matter of factly before gently closing the door.

He didn’t even wait for a response, nor did he look back through the peephole. His only thought was on the bottle of whiskey waiting for him in his dresser and the solace he might find at the bottom of it.

Dew swore he heard Phantom whisper something akin to an apology, his voice shaking. He swore to himself that he’d apologise when the season was over, but this was his tradition and he wasn’t about to allow his softness for the newbie to change that.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

On the third day (or was it the fourth?) Dew found himself wrapped around the toilet, his stomach empty and twisting with nausea. Whiskey had never been his favourite drink. It always left him violently ill and often violent in nature. But there was no one to fight with but himself, and true to his fiery nature, that’s just what he’d done. Without Swiss to keep him in check, Dew had made quick work of breaking his bathroom mirror and cutting his knuckles in the process. He vaguely remembered wrapping his hand around a shredded shirt with full intentions of treating it when he ventured out for food. But he never got that far, and the rags were now soaked through with blood, the swollen flesh beneath them aching.

“Santanus,” Dew groaned as he sat upright.

With all the grace of a newborn deer, he struggled to his feet, wincing at the sensation of glass buried within the soles of his feet. Sighing, he hobbled to the safety of his nest and took in the chaos around him. His room was pulled apart, feathers from shorn pillows covering every surface and bloody footprints marring the stone floor.

“This is a tomorrow problem…” he whispered to no one in particular as he reached for his cellphone.

He unlocked the device and winced as the light hit his sensitive eyes. There were six messages and ten missed calls waiting for him. The first was from Swiss, reminding him that he was loved and missed by not only the multi-ghoul but also the rest of the pack. Then there was Cumulus, chiming in to tell him that she was praying for him and available if he needed to talk. The final four were, surprisingly, from Mountain.

Dew’s stomach twisted at the thought of food. It was just what he needed to cure his perpetual hangover and so he dragged himself to the door to retrieve his bounty. He pressed his ear to the wood, listening for any wayward ghouls patrolling the halls, and only when he was satisfied did he dare reach out for his tray of cold leftovers.

True to form, Mounty had left no stone unturned, going as far as to supply a bottle of still water, no doubt in fear for the fire-ghouls liver. He had piled the plate high with all matter of meats, vegetables and bread, completing the platter with a selection of different sauces.

The tray was no sooner uncovered than Dew was tucking into the mishmash of a meal. He hadn’t realised just how hungry he’d been until he’d started to eat, and his body was thankful for the nourishment. He even allowed his tail to wag with some resemblance of joy.

Dew carefully placed the empty tray outside his door and retreated into his sanctuary to open yet another bottle of alcohol. This time it was a bottle of red wine he’d snatched from the kitchens some weeks ago in preparation for his hibernation. But before he could even pop the cork, a shuffling could be heard from the hall. The sound of feet, but not the heavy footfalls of Mountain’s boots he had expected, rather the dull scuffing of dress shoes. Then, as expected, a knocking resounded throughout his small room.

Dew sat still, his hand hovering above the neck of the bottle, and waited for the visitor to move on. But they didn’t, instead, they dared to knock again.

“I would like to speak with you, Dew. Apri la porta, per favore.” Copia’s thick accented voice sounded from beyond the wood and the fire ghoul winced. Papa had never visited him during Yule. He had always promised to leave him alone under the agreement that he attend the Yule ritual.

“Shit.” Dew whispered to himself.

The ritual was held last night when he was knee-deep in a violent episode of shattered glass and defeathering pillows. He’d missed it and no doubt Sister had sent Copia here to project her fury.

“Give me a minute!” Dew called.

He hurried to tidy away the torn pillowcases and their contents into a hidden corner of his room, and grabbing a strip of fabric he attempted to wipe the dried blood from the stonework. But it was no use, and after several moments and more knocking, the fire ghoul gave up and prepared to accept his fate. With a deep breath, and his tail wrapped around his thigh, he pulled open the door to meet the gaze of Papa.

The clergyman’s eyes wandered up and down the ghoul, and then over his shoulder into the nest beyond. He pursed his lips before emitting a deep sigh.

“May I speak with you a moment?” If Copia was angry, his voice certainly didn’t give it away. Instead, it was laced with genuine concern.

Dew nodded, stepping aside to welcome him into his den. He whispered an apology for the mess, gesturing towards an empty armchair in the corner. Copia gingerly took a seat and waited for the fire ghoul to join him. But Dew nervously remained standing, the sudden realisation that he was dressed only in a pair of boxers, with his hair in a greasy bun and his body stinking of sweat and booze in the presence of Papa beginning to sink in. He had never allowed anyone, only Swiss, to see him like this. Least of all the clergyman.

“Ah – um – I wasn’t expecting anyone.” Dew stuttered, his voice shaking.

Why was he so anxious? He had a good relationship with Copia, and it’s not like Sister would go as far as to banish him for missing one Yule ritual. Right? Maybe it was the booze or the persistent hangover, but Dew felt like he was going to collapse.

“That’s quite alright. Won’t you sit for me, per pavore?” Copia’s voice was soft and calm, as if his senses weren’t being assaulted by the bitter scent of spirits oozing from the ghoul’s pores.

Nervously, Dew sat on the edge of his mattress. He reached for a discarded cushion and held it tight against his middle, his fingers fidgetting with the soft fabric.

“Do you know why I’m here, Dewdrop?”

Wordlessly, Dew shook his head, even though he was well aware of the reason for Papa’s visit.

“Last night was the Yule Ritual, and as you know all ghouls, specifically those currently involved in the Ghost project, are expected to attend. While I understand and respect your misgivings towards this time of the year diavolino, the church does not.” Copia sighed, clearly struggling with the task he’d been given, “I’m afraid that Sister has sent me here with a reprimand and a call for you to attend a hearing in her office on the first of January.”

Dew felt his blood run cold, a mighty feet for a fire ghoul. His claws extended into the pillow, clawing at the fabric while his mind raced to conclusions. Maybe she could banish him after all.

“Fuck.” He uttered, “Oh fuck.”

“Please try not to worry, Dew. This may only be a warning. Perhaps you’ll be given additional chores as punishment. And I will be there to fight your corner against anything else, si?”

But Dew couldn’t hear him, his thoughts already miles away back in the stinking depths of the pit. To the unwelcoming arms of his former pack. To starvation and endless hunger, both for nourishment and affection.

Sensing his distress, Copia made his way to sit beside the fire ghoul.

“Dew, diavolino, you must come back from your thoughts.” the clergyman placed a gloved hand on Dew’s forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze,”Non ti stressare.”

“What if she sends me back?”

“You? Non! You are too special. It is just a – how do you say it – slap on the butt?”

“You mean a slap on the wrist, right?”

“Si, that one.”

Dew pulled the cushion up to his chest and buried his face into it’s softness.

“I’ve fucked up, Papa. I swear I had every intention of going last night, but I just….lost track of time.”

“Excuse me for being so forward but,” Copia looked towards the mess of the room, his eyes lingering on the bloody footprints imprinted on the stone, before coming back to stare at the bloodied bandage on the ghoul’s knuckles,”It seems you have been spending a little too much time at the bottom of a bottle.”

“Is it that obvious?” Dew sighed, well aware that he wasn’t hiding anything.

“Truth be told, Phantom was quite concerned about you. This is his first experience with your Yule traditions, and understandably he was rather worried you’d hurt yourself.”

“How ironic.” Dew mummbled.

“Irony aside, I know that Swiss not being with you might make it easier to overindulge. But please be careful.”

Dew nodded, his face still buried in fabric.

“I need you to look at me diavolino, and promise that you will take it easy.”

Wordlessly, the fire ghoul brought his eyes up to meet Papa’s.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take it easy.”

Copia raised an eyebrow, unconvinced by the ghoul’s promise. But he had no time to run in circles. Instead, he gave two sturdy pats to Dew’s back and stood, ready to take his leave.

“I expect to see you at the First Footing ritual. I do not care if you show up drunk, stoned or naked; Just be there, si?”

“Si, Papa.”

With that, Copia bid Dew goodbye and saw himself out. The man’s scent had barely left the room before Dew had polished off half the bottle of his red wine.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Swiss made another attempt to connect with Dew on the fourth day. He and Cumulus came knocking at the fire ghoul’s door, bearing gifts and the promise of good company. On both occasions they were told, with no sugar coating, to ‘fuck off’.

But the multi-ghoul was never one to take no for an answer, especially not from his best friend, and so late on the evening of the fifth day, Swiss returned once again with two bottles of premium whiskey he’d bought for a local distillery.

“Do you want a drinking partner?” Swiss shouted through the door.

“I’m fine all by myself, thanks!” Dew slurred, his body slumped against the wood on the other side, “ ‘sides, I’ll only bring you down.”

“But I have the good stuff! This shit’s nearly older than Papa, can you believe it? It’s got to be good!”

Dew contemplated his offering. If he let Swiss in he’d have to make conversation, and even though the multi-ghoul was a good friend, words weren’t flowing as easily. He took a quick look around his den, taking in the blood-stained flagstones and broken bottles, before deciding that it wasn’t fit for entertaining. And nor was he, bloodied, bruised and smelling like garbage.

Misery didn’t want company, not this time.

“No thanks. I’m all set for booze in here.” Dew sighed heavily.

“Dew, dude – “

“Please. Just fuck off.”

Swiss fell silent, and Dew knew he’d struck a nerve. He rarely got angry with Swiss, and if he did it was often quick, firey and forward. But this was different; this was a burning irritation that made his blood simmer. Never before had the multi-ghoul’s voice grated on his nerves until now. Maybe it was the five-day bender? Or maybe it was the fact that Swiss had abandoned him for his new fuck-buddy when Dew needed him most? Either way, the fire ghoul was so done with the conversation that he dragged himself up off the floor and into the furthest point of his den just to get away from its presence.

He vaguely heard Swiss curse him out, telling him to stick his cheap wine up his ass before he stormed off back to the common area. And for a moment Dew felt an inkling of regret. But it was shortlived as he thought about how abandoned he felt, and how nothing fucking mattered anyway. This all was temporary. The pack, his den, the Ghost project, his time topside; all of it. Even his companionship with the multi-ghoul couldn’t last forever.

Dew downed the remainder of his wine and tossed the bottle against the wall. It smashed, sending shards of glass throughout the room, a painful reminder of how he felt inside.

Time became lost after that, and the fire-ghoul found himself midway through another bottle and on his seventh repeat of ‘Louder Than Bombs.’ His phone remained switched off and beneath his pillow, cutting any contact from the world outside his door and leaving him isolated in his bubble of self-pity and intoxication. Dew was, for lack of a better word, spiralling and there was nothing he wanted anyone to do about it.

Except for maybe – perhaps – Mountain.

As the ghoul lay along his nest, cigarette in his mouth and the neck of the wine bottle grasped tightly in his fist, he thought about the gentle giant. He thought about all the times he’d left food outside Dew’s door, knocking gently but never pressing. He thought about how the earth ghoul knew just where Dew’s line was drawn and made damn sure to toe it ever so carefully. And he thought about the simple things, like how he’d slide a bag of home-grown marijuana beneath the door, and always remembered to include a pack of rolling papers and a few pre-rolls.

This wasn’t the first time Mountain had displayed such genuine kindness to the fire ghoul. In fact, just like Dew’s yearly ritual was to wallow in self-loathing, Mountain’s was to make sure he got enough to eat and kept himself topside. He’d displayed patience when no one else had both during Yule and various other points in Dew’s existence. And while, yes, the earthly creature was mellow and compassionate to all members of his pack, there was always a little more room left for Dew than for anyone else.

As he took another swing of his wine and drew the last few puffs from his cigarette, Dew brought himself to sit upright on his bed. The moon was beginning to rise and somewhere down the hall, he heard the laughter of his ghoul-kin. His gut twisted and, despite himself, he felt tears welling in his eyes at the realisation of just how alone he was.

With a sigh, he reached for his cell phone and waited for it to turn on. When the screen booted up he was immediately assaulted with an onslaught of text messages and missed calls from various pack members. But there was only one thread his intoxicated mind was hellbent on opening.

Dew felt a smile pinch at the corners of his lips. Mountain always had a way of knowing just what he needed.

He stumbled to his feet, careful to avoid the broken glass, and hurried to the door. There, sitting upon the usual tray, was a plate piled high with mac, cheese and jalapenos. Mountain had even included a generous bag of weed, wrapped up nicely with a red ribbon and a letter attached. Dew all but snatched the tray and retreated into the safety of his nest. He perched himself back on the bed, his legs crossed over each other, and began to devour his meal with reckless abandon. The weed, he decided, could wait. Right now his stomach craved carbs and that was just what Mountain had blessed him with.

It was only afterwards when he was basking in the ecstasy of a flavourful meal, that Dew allowed himself to relax back into the softness of his nest and unravel the earth ghoul’s additional offering. He gently tore the note from the ribbon and squitted at Mountain’s cursive handwriting.

“I’m here if you want to talk. Please take care of yourself”

Dew felt his face drop and a tightness developed in his lungs. He brought the paper to his chest, careful not to crumble it, and allowed a soft whimper to escape his lips. Satan below, he wanted nothing more than to run to him and ask to be held in his strong, work-worn arms. Mountain always gave the best hugs. They were warm and gentle and allowed Dew to take in his calming, earthly aroma.

They used to curl up on the bus together during their time with Terzo. After Dew’s transformation, when the majority of his wounds had healed, Mountain was the one to hold him tightly when he would wake screaming in the night. Sure, Swiss was his platonic soulmate, but Mountain? There were no words to describe what the earth ghoul was to him. He had been there from the beginning; through fire and blood.

But there was nothing in Dew’s booze-soaked vocabulary to say back, lest he pour his heart out. Even in his current state of mind, the fire ghoul couldn’t stand the shame of it. Instead, he bundled up the empty cutlery and left it back to its usual spot outside his door, before constructing the only text he felt appropriate to reply with. Something simple, without any indication that, yes, he would very much like to talk. Even though it would do him the world of good to have a shoulder to cry on, it was outside Dew’s current repertoire to let anyone else know that.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Mountain’s routine of cooking Dew’s favourite meals continued for the next two days before something changed. On December twenty-seventh, the earth ghoul knocked as normal but didn’t leave the tray. Instead, he waited until Dew stumbled and staggered to crack open the door, revealing only a glimpse of himself to the world outside his bedroom.