#dantesunbreaker

[her-satanic-wiles]

Soul Breaker

Dewdrop/Sodo x Transmasc!Reader

Months after your first encounter with Dewdrop's demonic form, you convinced your lover to let a second hunt begin. But, in the shadow of night, who is truly hunting whom?

Masterlist ⛧ Realm of Souls Masterlist

Commissioned by @dantesunbreaker

Words: 6.6k

Reading Time: 27 min.

Warnings: biting, bondage, degradation, dubcon, fingering, forced bondage, frottage, graphic descriptions of blood, graphic descriptions of injury, hand job, knotting, masturbation, marking, moderate violence, monster fucking, mutual masturbation, no aftercare, pain kink, PIV sex, power play, spit as lube, tsundere!Dew (kinda), unprotected sex (keep it cool, use a tool, you horny fuckers), vaginal sex

Taglist: @dantesunbreaker @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56

🔞 MDNI 🔞

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

You could still feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins from that night all those weeks ago - the way Dew instilled a fear in you that you’d never felt before, and how you were dying to feel it again. Your love life with Dew was never dull, even when he was in his human form, but there was something about the way he commanded your body, the control he had and the way he felt when he used your body for his own pleasure in his demonic form. Dew had fucked you since then, of course, the two of you could never leave it that long. But, and it pained you to admit it, it just wasn’t the same.

Human Dew was, for lack of a better term, an angel. He was the sweetest person in the Ministry - so kind and so thoughtful, and a stereotypical gentleman. He never overstepped any boundaries, never made you feel unsafe or unloved, and always put your pleasure first. But you’d seen the monster, the demon that had become unleashed and untamed in the light of the moon, who had pinned you down and made you take everything he wanted to give you. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, your hand moving down to play with yourself each and every time your mind decided to take you back to that night, when you were stuffed so full of demon dick and crying out for a mercy that never came. You couldn’t help yourself, needing to work yourself to completion at the thought of it happening again.

But nothing in the Ministry was stronger than Dew’s resolve. The man was more stubborn than a mule, and once he’d set his mind to something, that was it. There was almost no changing that. You’d tried to have these conversations with him, but they always ended the same way.

“I want to keep you safe, ___.” He told you, pleading with you to let this go. “Look at what happened last time.” He was making himself a coffee during this conversation, frustratedly slamming utensils down every time you refused to listen to him.

“Nothing happened last time.” You protested.

“You were scared!”

“That was half the fun!”

“You got caught.”

“Because I went to that cabin. If I’d have stayed in the Ministry, I probably would have gotten away from you.”

“I could have hurt you.”

“Yes, but you didn’t.”

“I… could have done worse.” His voice was quiet that time, eyes averting yours because he couldn’t bring himself to look at you, and expose his true feelings.

You put your hand on his, gently comforting him. You rested your back against your kitchen counter, accidentally half-pinning yourself between it and him. “But you didn’t. Believe me, there was nothing you could have possibly done that I wouldn’t have enjoyed.”

He finally looked at you. “You really enjoyed it that much?”

“Yes! It was different from what you usually do… more ferocious. Normally, you’re so kind and restrained. Still the best I’ve ever had, amazing and wonderful. But that night? You were so rough with me…” Your voice dropped lower as you recounted everything you felt and loved about that night. “You were feral for me, like you’d kill anyone who stopped you from getting to me, like you’d die if you didn’t fuck me. Being desired like that… it-”

Dew could hear the labour in your breath, how just remembering that night was turning you on again. He could practically smell your slick dripping from your slit, and he’d be lying if he said he couldn’t feel his resolve crushing. “Felt good?” He asked, eyes widened and pupils blown.

You lifted your monastic habit and guided his hand to your sex, letting him feel your wetness for himself. “It felt incredible.”

“Fuck.”

The truth was, Dew could remember everything. too. It was like being drunk on a night out and waking up the next morning. He wasn’t entirely in control, but he remembered everything. How your hole welcomed him easily, how your body gave no resistance when he finally took you on the floor of that cabin, fucking the most delicious noises out of you with each pounding you took. How his cock had fucked you so dumb, you could barely comprehend anything besides the way he plunged into you over and over again, and how incredible his ridges felt dragging against your insides. He remembered how your walls fluttered around his length with each filthy word that tumbled from his mouth. And he was getting harder and harder the more he remembered, and the wetter he felt you become.

His skin heated up when he heard a small whimper coming from your mouth, realising that his finger had begun rubbing over your sweet spot, drawing wanton breaths from your lungs. He was fully erect now, his Ghoul uniform tenting significantly at the pressure that was being put on it.

“Y-you want it again, huh?” Dew asked breathlessly, his fingers working you faster.

“Mhm. Want you t-to fuck me dumb again, use my - fuck - use my body to get yourself off.”

Dew captured you in a rough kiss, his tongue immediately sliding down your throat in pure desperation, his composure almost completely lost to the fantasy. You fiddled with his pants, freeing him completely. You spit onto your hand and rubbed it over his shaft before stroking him languidly, concentrating your hand on the head. He purred at the feeling, allowing his hips to buck into your fingers. But eventually, it became too much for him.

He pushed both of your hands out the way and lined himself up with your centre, rubbing against your folds. With each grind against your nerves, your mouth opened wider, head tipping back in pleasure and allowing Dew enough space to bury his head in the crook of your neck. His own moans were muffled by your flesh, more so once his tongue came out and laved at your skin, his moustache tickling you with each graze. Your hands moved to his back, pulling him closer and closer against your body, feeling your wetness slide all over him and only heightening the sensation.

“I t-touch my… self to the thought of it all the ti-ime.” You confessed, one hand tangling in his long hair. His rocking hips became more frantic as he heard your words, your own whimpers reaching directly into his ears and making him lose his mind. He pictured it, you in the shower going at yourself, thinking about his demonic cock railing you from behind.

You felt his teeth graze your skin, and begin to nibble at the flesh, your hole clenching around nothing so needily, you wanted to scream.

“Let me f-feel you again like that, Dew. Please.”

“Y-you wanna feel my fucking demon cock pound you into the floor again, hm? You’re th-that fucking desperate for it, you’re gonna beg… beg me?”

“W-wanna feel you again so fucking b-bad!”

His hips sputtered when he came, his seed spilling all over the bottom of your ass cheeks, folds and thighs. His teeth sunk into you, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave a mark there for at least a few days. He cried out, his sounds quietened by your neck but still loud enough to travel straight down to your core. You came shortly after, the erratic thrusts providing you with just enough extra stimulation to tip you over the edge, your fingernails digging into Dew’s uniform and clutching on tightly as you came undone around him.

“Fucking hell.” He muttered, kissing your red flesh and taking a step back.

You looked at him hopefully, wide eyed and wishing he’d give you the answer you wanted to hear.

“___.” He grumbled. “I love you, and that’s why I don’t think I can put you through that again.”

“Dew, you just came to the thought of it. You know it’s-”

“I know!” He sighed. “I know. Just… let me think on it, okay?”

“Of course. Take all the time you need.”

Although, you wished you never said that. By the time the next shift happened, Dew, as usual, stayed behind in the music room while the rest of the Ghouls changed and frolicked about in the forest. There were a further two changes before you’d grown tired of waiting.

Dew had been more forthcoming about talking his shift through, however, more often than not reminiscing on the last shift and detailing exactly how good you looked bouncing off his monster cock. You both fucked each other regularly to that memory, talking about it during sex and riling each other up. At one point, Dew even had you beg for his demonic form while you were riding him, feeling disappointed at the difference in girth between his human form and demonic form, remembering just how. Fucking. Good it felt. He was becoming more and more receptive to it, but every time you asked, he would just tell you he needed more time.

The Ghoulettes were the first to pick up on your frustration, and were the first to confront you about it. Cumulus, Cirrus and Aurora sitting you down in the cafeteria one break time and handing you a drink, practically pulling the information out of you. Although, to be fair to them, it wasn’t hard for you to share it. They listened carefully to every word, nodding and dropping the odd noise of understanding to show you that they were truly listening.

You sighed once you’d completed your tale of woe, and took a sip of your drink. “And now we’re here.” You concluded.

“I mean, it’s understandable why he doesn’t want to do it.” Cirrus began. “You’re human, you can’t fight him off if things go wrong. I’m not even sure if we could.”

The Ghoulettes laughed at this, but they were right. Dew had spent centuries down in Hell, long before everyone else had even been thought of. Whenever any of the Ghouls used to rough and tumble with him, he’d beat them with ease - one arm tied behind his back kind of ease. It came as no surprise to Cirrus at least, when Dew stopped shifting into his demonic form. She may have been on his side for that, but she could at least agree with Aurora when she said that Dew was leading you on a bit.

“Do you think he’ll come round to the idea eventually?” You asked, feeling despair grapple at your bones.

“I wouldn’t like to say, kiddo.” Cumulus responded. “But, if he’s playing around with you like this, then I wouldn’t be surprised if he did come around sooner rather than later.”

“You’re just really going to have to convince him.” Aurora chimed in, before taking a sip of her own drink.

You sighed again. “And how could I convince an ancient demon to change his mind and fuck me within an inch of my life?”

The people around you stopped what they were doing and stared at you, a mixture of amusement and confusion etched on their faces. You smiled at them in response, but honestly, you were too frustrated with your demonic lover to care if anyone heard, or was offended by what you had to say.

Cirrus shook her head and rolled her eyes, especially when Aurora lost her mind with the hilarity of the situation. “Look,” she began, making an effort to quieten her voice and stop other people from overhearing her. “The way I see it, you have two choices: you either let him have his way and not go forward with the whole scenario again. Or you find a way to prove to him that you can take it and defend yourself against any attacks he may throw your way.”

“But how?” You asked, now becoming frustrated with your friends.

Cumulus raised her eyebrows. When she spoke, she did so slowly and carefully. “Well, now that we’re not on tour, some of us have some free time. What about we help build your strength up a little? Get you primed and ready to take that dick.”

Cirrus sighed, “We’re not getting one of the Ghouls to fuck him. Dew would have our heads.”

“No, no! Just ‘wrestling’ as the humans like to call it. Training. We throw ourselves at him, starting from worst to best, and then that way he’ll have a fighting chance against Dew if and when Dew finally comes around.”

Aurora nodded. “I like this plan.”

“This is a great plan.” You agreed.

“Yeah, until he gets hurt and Dew comes for our throats. I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t have a death wish.” Cirrus commented.

You thought for a moment. “Dew doesn’t have to know.”

“___, you’re going to go back to him with bruises all over your body and he’s going to get really suspicious. Imagine what that’s going to look like if you don’t tell him - or even worse, you stop sleeping with him.”

“He respects my boundaries - if I tell him I don’t want to sleep with him then he’ll let me be.”

Cumulus clapped her hands together. “That’s settled then! Your first day will be with Aurora tomorrow!”

“Hey!” Aurora exclaimed. “Why me?”

“You’re the worst fighter, dummy.”

Cirrus nodded. “She has a point.”

Aurora hissed, bearing her fangs at her friends. “Fine.” She humphed. “I’ll see you tomorrow in the gym, pipsqueak!” She said to you, her voice petulant and childish, but bearing no ill-will. “Get ready for me to kick your human ass!”

“Bring it on, psycho.” You challenged, laughing at her when she threw a middle finger at you.

Training with the Ghouls went about exactly well as you thought it would to begin with. You were like a fish out of water, fucking up at every turn and ending up on your ass more times than you could count. It took you a while to get used to the ebb and flow of how each of them fought - each one going for a completely different style and throwing you off centre the moment you changed Ghoul, but eventually you got the hang of it. And while you didn’t win many of the fights, you were still learning and would one day be able to apply all of this to whenever Dew got sick and tired of you pestering him. But you were still by no means ready to face him yet.

You couldn’t say exactly how long it took you to get the hang of life with the Ghouls, learning everything you could from them in order to keep yourself as safe as possible the next time Dew hunted you for gratification. But it wasn’t just fighting techniques that they put in your arsenal. It was knowledge, valuable demon-hunting information that would come in handy and subdue Dew - not hurt him… much. But, as Cumulus said, after the length of time he led you on for, he deserved at least a little pain. And the pervert would probably appreciate it, too. Silver was the main vantage point for you. In demonic form, anything silver would sting the Ghoul like an electric shock would sting a human. Enough to stun him yet not powerful enough to do any permanent damage.

Your plan was simple: lure him back out to the cabin, tie him to a chair and wait until sunrise. This time, you’d win. You were sure of it.

You caught Dew just after practice one day while he was making his way to the cafeteria for some much needed nourishment. He was so pleased to see you, welcoming you into a warm embrace and kissing the top of your head. “Hello, my love.” He said, his voice chipper and comforting. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“No, I have about thirty minutes to kill so I thought I’d come and surprise you.” You announced through a beaming smile of your own, except yours was hiding something slightly more sinister than it should be.

Dew, however, wasn’t dumb. He knew something had to be up with you because you rarely, if ever, did this. “What do you want?”

You feigned offense. “Can a man not visit his boyfriend without a little suspicion? Honestly…” Dew remained silent but continued to stare at you. You sighed. “I was hoping you thought on the whole ‘demon shifting’ thing. It’s been so long now - I just want a definitive yes or no at this point.”

“___.” Dew groaned, his annoyance present with the tone he used. “I asked for time.”

“Dew, you’ve had time. Two shifts to be exact. It’s not fair for you to leave me hanging on like this. Just one more chance is all I ask for. It’s going to be fine, I promise you.”

“You can’t promise that - you don’t know.”

“I do know. I know that even last time, while you were in demon form, I wasn’t physically injured in any capacity, not even by you. If I fail this time, then I promise to never ask again. You won’t hear a peep out of me about it. But we both really enjoyed that night, and I want us to enjoy it again. Please?”

Dew hesitated, lost in his own head about his answer. You could see that he wanted to say yes - you knew he wanted to. All those late night fucks based solely around those few hours proved that he did. But he was still scared, still very unsure of himself when it came to his shifting and your safety. You could see the cogs in his head turning, figuring out any kind of contingencies that would help him not hurt you. But eventually, he groaned, “Fine.” Clearly apprehensive about giving his consent but did so anyway. “But, you have to promise me that you’ll call for backup this time if you need it. I want your phone on you at all times. I’ll ask them to come running when you call, okay?”

“Yes!” You celebrated. “I promise!” You leaned forward and gave him a kiss, “Thank you!”

A week later, after everything had been sorted out, the hunt was on.

You were given a minute head start just the same as last time, and so, you decided to waste none of it. This time, you were actively trying to lure him back to the cabin given that now you had items there to help you win, which now you had to. The stakes weren’t the same now - now they were much, much higher. This time, yes, it was done for some lewd reasons, but Dew’s mental health was also on the line - as was his relationship with his shifted self. Tonight had to go your way - or who knew what could happen.

This time, you remembered about his heightened sense of smell. You remembered that he could track you no matter what you did or how well you hid from him, because your clothes were exactly the same. So, hiding wasn’t much of an option - running and leaving your scent on random walls and doors was, while actively trying to avoid touching anything that could give you away completely.

You’d already made your way down to the kitchens by the time Dew had the faintest idea where you’d be. You’d kept the kitchen’s door unlocked before this all began so you could have an easy and fast escape, so you’d quickly but quietly crept downstairs and snuck into the room. Just as empty as you thought it would be. With confident steps, you wandered over to the door and pressed down on the handle.

Locked.

Your stomach dropped. It wasn’t supposed to be locked. You specifically remember running in after the last member of staff and unlocking the door again. So how could this be possible? You turned to where the key would usually sit and found it missing. In a panic, you began to search through the drawer of keys and frantically (and noisily) began your search. Your heart raced with each key that you pushed to the side, fingers wrapping around the cold metal of the handle and trying other keys in the lock that looked vaguely similar. But to no avail. The kitchen door key was missing - and you were the last one to touch it. Never mind surviving tonight, you wouldn’t survive tomorrow if Sister Imperator found out about this.

“Looking for this?”

Sharp chills ran down your spine at the sound of Dew’s voice, deep and hoarse from all the gowling he’d been doing back upstairs in his frustration over losing you. You turned quickly to find him standing there, a smug grin on his dark face exposing his white fangs to you. In his right hand, he held the key you were searching for, jingling as he shook it to emphasise his point. “I have to hand it to you,” he said tauntingly, teasingly, “You seem to be a lot more organised than last time. Trying your best, but it just isn’t good enough, is it, little one?”

“Go to Hell.” You hissed, pressing yourself into the corner of the counter and the door as Dew began taking small steps towards you.

“Been there, done that. Got the burns to prove it. Maybe I can take you there tonight, hm?”

He was incredibly close to you now, the door key only within a lose grasp. You looked at it once, then trained your eyes on his face, trying to make your plan not seem obvious. If you were fast enough, you could snatch it out of his hand, stun him, and be out of the kitchen door before he was able to recover.

“Maybe,” he continued, “I can burn you with Hellfire, too. Play a little game while you’re singing so beautifully for me.”

You stole a glance at the opposite door where Dew and yourself entered the room. Then you stole another.

Dew chuckled, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated in your ears and made your heart beat faster in fear. “I wouldn’t even think about it, my love. Do you really think you can reach that door with me boxing you in?”

“I don’t need that door.”

Before Dew had the chance to ask what you meant, you grabbed the key from his hands and, with all the strength you had in you, pushed him back a few feet, knocking him into the island counter and hitting his side. That would bruise in the morning. Because you were trying so hard to be faster, you were fumbling with the lock which wasted so much of that precious time you were hoping to save. But, eventually, you managed to unlock the door and throw it open so you could launch yourself out of it. You felt Dew’s hand on your arm, stopping you from leaving and tripping you up in your struggle to get away from him, making you land on the soft and freshly fallen snow. He was able to clamber on top of you, pinning you into the ground again, a sadistic smile on his lips.

“Gonna fuck all that fight out of you, you little shit!” He exclaimed as he started pressing all his weight onto your body.

You kept fighting him, your brain momentarily forgetting everything you’d learned with the other Ghouls, but once you recalled what you needed, you bucked your hips up, pushing him upwards over your body, wrapped your arms around his middle and flipped him off you, using that moment of brief bewilderment to make your escape. This time, you were successful.

“You cunt!” You heard him shout as you made your way through the snow-covered grounds and into the forest, determination and adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I’m gonna fucking get you. You better hope I never catch your sorry ass!”

It wasn’t long until you heard his footsteps crunching in the snow behind you, catching up to you just as quickly as he did the first night. But he only gained a great deal of distance when the cabin was in reach. With Dew almost immediately behind you, you threw the cabin door wide open, but never had the chance to close it again. Dew’s hand came in between the door and the frame, pushing it open further and sending you back into the centre of the room.

“Bringing us here again, hm? I’m not entirely convinced you’re as smart as you make out to be. Trapping yourself here with me a second time. You didn’t forget what I did to you, did you? How I took your body exactly how I wanted it.”

“Please don’t hurt me.” You pleaded with him, backing yourself up to the middle of the room and luring him further inside. You slowly made your way towards the chair that you’d already set up, trying not to make your plan too obvious. If Dew had figured you out, he didn’t say anything.

“Hurt you?” He laughed. “Oh my sweet, naive little boy. I’m not gonna hurt you - but I will make you scream.”

As he moved closer to you, he backed you up to the chair and grabbed hold of your wrist. “I’ll claim my prize now.” He told you, sitting onto the chair and pulling you onto his lap. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, given your monastic habit was still in the way, but he’d unknowingly pout himself right where you wanted him anyway, so you didn’t make any fuss at all. Letting him think that he’d won was perfect. He didn’t suspect a thing.

As quickly as your body could muster, you reached blow the chair and pulled out the chunky, silver chain that you’d stowed underneath it, realizing that the window of opportunity was closing more rapidly than you’d initially anticipated. The one hand of his that had been wrapped around your wrist was the first to be bound in the chain. He tried to buck you off him at the pain and escape imminent confinement, but you’d been much faster than him, and as pushing all of your weight onto his body, making it almost impossible for him to actually escape. Then, you wrapped the chain around the back bars of the chair a few times before turning your attention to his other hand.

Tying the second hand was a lot trickier than the first, because this time he’d regained a little more of his strength and was fighting back against you. He clawed at your skin, trying to get you to back off him and give him the chance to escape, but despite it all, somehow, you managed to get his second hand tied and secured behind the chair, like a prisoner detained by the mafia. He was secured, and the silver ensured he’d not be able to escape you.

You got off him and stood back, surveying your work and making sure everything was tight enough to keep him restrained, but lose enough that he wouldn’t be in constant pain, before heading to the cabin door, closing it, and locking it. Victory had sunk in, and your confidence had skyrocketed. “Maybe you should think twice about following people into cabins so far away from any help.” You taunted. The look on his face was incredible - he was livid.

“Let me go right now, or I swear to the Dark Lord himself I’ll personally rearrange your insides.” The hissed through gritted teeth.

The shift in power dynamics was enough to make your body come alive with excitement, the tension coiling in your stomach and sending blood rushing to your core. In that moment, looking at him helpless, angry, and a little afraid - you understood it. You saw why his demonic form liked tormenting you during these games. The power was going straight to your head and fuelling your desire to have your way with him, tied to that chair, helpless and practically begging for your touch.

You smiled, “I think I’ll claim my prize now.” You echoed his words from before, watching as his eyes widened when he realized your intentions.

He had never been in that position before: he’d never had to sit or lie there and take it. Usually he was the one dishing it out and it made him feel powerful, it made him feel Satan’s affections were justified because his strength was valuable. But now, he was tied with a silver chain to a chair, watching a mortal remove his habit and reveal his naked body, a naked body Dew loved to ravish, but usually as the party in charge. Despite all of this, he couldn’t help his cock growing at the sight of you climbing back onto his lap, your bare sex rubbing over his clothed length, getting him harder and more prepared for you by the second - and the prospect of you using him this time, of course. He closed his eyes and bit back his moan as you rutted against his centre, trying not to let it show just how good you were starting to make him feel - but it was obvious by the way he went completely silent, purposefully biting his lip just to make his point.

“Poor thing,” you teased, your tone taking on a condescending tone, “can’t do anything about it, can you? Have to sit there and take the humiliation of being bested and fucked by a human.” You chuckled and leaned forward, taking his ear between your teeth and biting gently. This allowed your bare shoulder to reach his mouth, which he took advantage of and bit down upon. It was a soft bite, around the same force he’d usually use when he was in his human form. Though, the sharpness of his fangs made a small trail of blood slip from the would, causing you to jump back. You looked at the wound before turning back to him, grasping his chin in your hand so that his chin was resting on the curve of your thumb as it swooped up to join the rest of your hand. “Am I going to have to gag you as well, or can we keep our fangs to ourselves?”

The power really was going to your head. There you were, condescending an ancient demon who could rip you in half with the same effort as a human would snap a toothpick, and yet the whole time you had a confidence befitting a colonizing Englishman - you were, in that moment, invincible. So what harm could it do to poke the bear a little more?

“When I get out of this-“

“You’ll be a human.” You interrupted, grinding down a little more against his erection. He bucked his hips but it only added to both of your pleasure, making him groan from the back of his throat. “You’ll enjoy this more if you stop fighting me.”

His bulge was ever prominent against your heat, and it dragged deliciously against that sweet spot that had you crying out loud. You lifted your hips just enough to slide your hand in between you both, cupping his cock and messaging over the uniform. “I think we should free the beast, hm? Do you want that?”

Dew didn’t answer, looking at you with total petulance.

You reached round and pulled on his hair, tugging it back and lifting his face to look directly at you, forcing his obsidian eyes to look directly into your own. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Yes… what?”

You saw the moment where he swallowed his pride for the sake of his pleasure, manifesting in a literal gulp. “Yes, I want you to… release me.”

“From these chains? No can do.”

He sighed, frustrated. “Take my fucking cock out and fuck me already.”

You laughed at him. “Not if you have that attitude.”

He began to fight against you and the chains again, clearly wanting to bend you over and show you what real domination looked like - but you’d tied it too strong, and using pure silver, too. He didn’t stand a chance. “What more could you possibly want from me?”

“I want you to beg for it. I want you to whimper and moan like a pathetic little bitch to his human partner about how much his cock aches for me. I want you to cry, and whine, and moan, and curse me for how good I make you feel, putting you in your place for the first time in however many centuries it’s been. I’ll only ask you once more - do you want me to fuck you?”

His voice came out as a whimper, exactly as you’d asked, but it certainly wasn’t intentional. When the tiny, “please” fell from his mouth, you sprang into action, pulling out his monstrous girth with both of your hands and grinning at the sight of him. Fuck, you missed it. You’d been dreaming about those ridges for weeks - months maybe. You needed to feel like you were being split in two again. You needed to bounce on that cock and take him for all your own pleasure.

You were almost clinical with the way you moved. There was no romance, no seductive show, nothing short of demeaning and… ironically dehumanising the way you spat on his cock. Three globs of spit that were smeared up and down his shaft, coating him to get him sloppy enough to sink down upon. When you wrapped both of your hands around his length and rubbed, you watched his entire body tense as though he was struggling to keep it together under the most intense torture. With the leftover spit, you plunged three of those fingers deep inside your heat, stretching yourself out to take him all.

You set a slow pace, infuriatingly slow, as you sank down on him. Taking in his head, then stopping and waiting. You never told Dew what you were waiting for, and so he would get more and more agitated the longer you waited. He tried rutting his hips up to bury himself inside you, but you pulled completely off him and forced him to settle back down. Eventually, he realized you were waiting for him to react: a whimper, a whine, a groan. Some kind of verbal acknowledgment to get you to sink down just a little further, to take ridge after ridge after ridge until you had sunk down completely, swallowing him whole and leaving nothing left to offer - up until the knot at least.

Dew was trying his hardest to hold back his moans, but you were gripping him so tightly, so deliciously, he couldn’t help but let them out. Ragged breathing and whining as though he were a wounded animal, but whatever he sounded like then, it was nothing compared to when you started bouncing on him. When his tip was hitting the very back spots, bruising you in the most delightful way.

“Look at you,” you cooed, “taking it all like a good boy.” You let out a particularly loud moan when his head hit the back of your walls. “Does it feel good? Do you feel so good deep inside me, hm?”

“F-feels - fuck - feels good!” He finally admitted, teeth clenched and growls decorating his speech.

He hated submission, hated being dominated by someone who the Hells would consider unworthy. But that was also half of the reason his cock was hard in the first place. He longed to touch you. To rest his hands on your hips and guide your bouncing. To run his hands all over your body without restraint and restriction. Every now and then, when the dull ache in his wrists had been smothered by the overwhelming pleasure your tightness was bestowing upon him, he would forget that he was bound and chained to the chair and would move his hands to rest upon your body, but would feel the sting of the silver and cry out in a startling mix of pain and pleasure. Yet there he was, fully and completely submitting to a human, of all creatures, taking pleasure in the chains that were once designed to burn him.

“You’re so fucked up for liking this.” You mocked, as you lifted your hips and kept them there, hearing his choked sobs as he tried to rut upwards, chasing your warmth like an addict. “What an adorable little slut you’ve become.”

You moved your own hand down to your bundle of nerves, touching yourself frenziedly in your desperation to cum around his cock. Your movements had become shallower, taking only the first third of his cock this time instead of hitting the tip of his knot, which had now swollen ready to plug you up at a moment’s notice. You had half a mind to ruin his orgasm, but come sunrise you were already in a world of hurt, you decided better of it. Perhaps you could save that for next time.

The closer you got to your own climax, the further back down his shaft you slid, preparing yourself once again for the extra burn of his knot when it finally popped inside of you. You continued to chip way at yourself, allowing him to take the lead when it came to his own cock, feeling him use the opportunity to rut desperately into you and hurtle towards his end, which would end up coming sooner rather than later.

As you came around him, your body shuddered and tightened, squeezing his girth and choking his head. Your free hand clutched onto his body for purchase, fingernails digging into his skin and leaving dark welts in their wake. That, combined with the throbbing from the chains, caused Dew to empty himself inside you with a deep, demonic growl you’d never heard from any of the Ghouls before. He bucked into you so hard, his knot stretched you more than it had the first time you took it, causing you to cry out at the piercing feeling. At that moment, you looked at his face: his eyes were shut tight, his muscles were tense and spasming, his face was contorted in beautiful agony as he painted your walls white. His orgasm, miles more powerful than your own, lasted what felt like forever, until his body relaxed and shattered breaths escaped his lungs.

When his knot had finally deflated, and you were free to climb off him, you dressed yourself in your habit and curled up on his lap, waiting for the orange hues of dawn to spill through the cabin window and make it easier for Dew to shift back. He’d passed out, exhausted from the strain and the torment you’d put him through, but deeply and completely satisfied. And so, in the quiet waiting of the sun’s arrival, you cuddled into his chest and allowed sleep to overtake you, only to be awoken again by Dew’s stirring.

The next time you opened your eyes, he was back in his human form, arms wrapped around your body where they’d fallen out of the chain. You’d forgotten that his human self was much smaller than his demonic self. You looked up at him, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and yawning, feeling a twinge of pain in your back from the hours of bad posture.

You smiled at him. “I think I won that round.” You gloated triumphantly.

“I think you did, too.” He agreed. His tone was playful, but you could still feel that something was off.

“Did I overdo it?”

“Fuck no!” He exclaimed a little too quickly. “No, absolutely not. Human form or not, we’re doing that again.” You both laughed.

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed and kissed your forehead. “I have a lot of training to do to control myself when I’ve shifted - especially for the next time we do this.”

You nodded. “I’m here every step of the way, Dew. I can handle that - I proved that last night.”

He smiled. “You did. Come on, we’d better rest before we head back.”

Previous Part ⛧ Realm of Souls Masterlist

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[molly-ghuleh]

Could you do headcanons for all the Papas(or at least Secondo, Terzo, and Copia) and how they would react to a reader that has A LOT of stuffed animals. And I really mean a lot 😅 As in I've got probably over 100 of all different types and brands. Preferably gender neutral reader too cuz I'm transmasc! Thank you 💕

THANK YOU FOR THIS!!! I still sleep with a stuffed animal so I understand :') Thank you for the request!

Primo

Primo has been around the block, and has seen many things

Your collection of stuffed animals is nothing strange to him. In fact he finds it rather adorable.

He understands that it's a comfort thing for you and will make sure to have room for your collection if you decide to live with him

If you sleep with some (or all) of them he'll buy a bigger bed if you need

If you like to keep them on display instead, he'll clear up a space dedicated solely for them in his bedroom

With your permission he'll choose his favorite from your collection and keep it in his office. It reminds him of you during long days of work

Knows which stuffed animals you prefer depending on your mood and will set them up on your shared bed accordingly

If you like to hold some while the two of you cuddle, he'll include them in a little cuddle pile

Don't tell his brothers but he'll call you his teddy bear

Overall just extremely soft and accepting of your collection. Your honor I love Peemo

Secondo

Honestly? He's pretty confused at first.

Aren't stuffed animals supposed to be for babies and children?

You can tell he wants to understand though, so you calmly sit him down and explain why you keep your collection

He apologizes for insinuating that keeping stuffed animals is childlike, he didn't understand (you forgive him)

The first time you spend the night in his bed (which is already a rare occurrence for him, the man is emotionally constipated) he makes sure to hold you AND your stuffed animal(s)

If you wake up before him, he'll grab the stuffed animal you left in the bed and cuddle it while he keeps sleeping

THIS FACT DOES NOT LEAVE HIS CHAMBERS.

After a while he gets used to having you in his arms, and accepts that you come with your stuffed animals

You're hesitant to move into his chambers with him because how are you supposed to bring your collection into his carefully curated aesthetic?

But he reassures you that he'll gladly find a place for them if it makes you happy, you're more important than any of his material things

You've shown him that self-comfort is normal and healthy

He doesn't care that his brothers tease him about growing softer for you. He's happy and you're happy and that's all that matters.

Terzo

Terzo is immediately so accepting that it makes you a little teary.

He makes you question why you would even be nervous to tell him about your collection in the first place

Asks you to introduce him to each and every one

Even if they don't have names, he still wants to learn about the significance of them to you. When did you get them? Why did you choose this one? Which is your favorite?

Immediately declares that the smallest one is his little friend.

Carries it around in his pocket all day (with your permission) because he likes to be reminded of you when you're both busy.

Like Primo, he'll buy a bigger bed if you like to keep them in bed with you as you sleep

WILL buy the most expensive and roomy display case for them if you choose to keep them on display

If you and Terzo get intimate, he'll drape a blanket over your stuffed animals so the two of you 'don't ruin their innocence'

He's the type to try and cheer you up by giving them voices when you're sad. Each one has a different voice

(It always works. You always end up feeling better)

He still comforts you himself, he just knows that your stuffed animals are an extra comfort to you when you need them

Has no qualms about adding to your collection himself if he sees a stuffed animal that he knows you'd like

Copia

Hear me out. I feel like Copia has a few stuffed animals of his own

He'd seen a cute little rat plushie while away on tour once and bought it because how could he not?

He still has the stuffed rabbit from when he was a child

Copia is extremely sentimental in that regard

So when you nervously tell him about your collection, his face lights up because hey! He has some too!

Like Terzo, he'll ask you to introduce them all to him and asks about where and when you got them

If they don't have names, they do now. Copia will name them all and memorize each one.

Bonus points if you have rat or mouse plushies. He'll scratch them on the ears like they're real living pets

When you move into his chambers he'll create a special space for both of your collections together

Puts his stuffed rat and your favorite stuffed animal together and insists they're in love

It's part of your nightly routine for the two of you to choose a stuffed animal to spend the night in the bed

Copia is the type to panic slightly when you're upset or anxious

So he grabs as many stuffed animals as he can and piles them up around you for maximum comfort

And then he wraps his arms around you and your hundreds of plushies because he knows you need him, too.

Finds it hard to sleep without at least one stuffed animal now.

If either of you are away and have to spend the night apart, you're sure to pack the other's favorite one so you carry a piece of one another everywhere

[emeritus-fuckers]

Congrats on 1k followers! I would love to take part in the match up rerun if possible.

1. He/him/they/them pronouns, transmasculine pansexual!

2. Either Papas or ghouls, I love everyone.

3. I'm 5'3" and on the chubby side, but I do have a fair amount of muscle underneath the chub. My hair is shaved around the sides and back, but on top I've got long curly hair that is past my shoulders and lavender colored. My clothing style I kind of refer to as comfort goth grunge. Usually always black and pops of color, but generally you'll find me in distressed oversized sweaters or hoodies with bleach dyed sweat pants.

4. My friends describe me as chaotic but loving. Very much golden retriever kind of energy. I have a strong sense of empathy, and so a lot of people often confide in me or seek my help for personal issues.

5. I love writing, painting, drawing, reading, and playing video games. At the moment my favorite bands are Ghost, Sleep Token, and the Misfits. Hannibal and RuPaul's Drag Race are the two shows I watch on repeat. I also am kind of obsessed with stuffed animals and bones. There are probably over 100 stuffed animals in my bedroom, and have one shelf that is full of assorted animal skulls I've either found in nature or have been gifted by friends(I name each one).

6. I grew up with a twin, so I am very used to always having someone around. So I can easily get separation anxiety if left home alone for more than a couple of days. Doesn't even need to be a specific person, I just am comforted by having another individual within close proximity.

Thank you so much! 💙

This post is part of the 1000 followers match up event. Entries for the event are now closed.

Your match is...Papa Emeritus III

You two bonded over having a similar energy.

Terzo is very sociable and likes to be around people so you two started hanging out more and more. He found himself thinking about you more and more so he would always seek you out.

Then he asked you on a date to go to a painting class with him.

He spent the entire time amazed at how good your work is. Terzo is very enthusiastic but he isn’t the best technically at painting. Still there is an energy there in his work, and the grin he gives you as he shows you is just adorable.

So adorable that you give him a kiss on the cheek to say well done.

If you are comfortable with it, he’ll sweep you up in his arms twirling you around and then kissing you.

He loves sitting on the sofa with you in his arms while you read.

Sometimes it’s while you try to read as Terzo is always trying to get your attention. But in a very sweet way. He also knows when to stop and actually let you read. He’s started reading too.

He loves it when you both finish a book and then talk about it late into the night

~

Written by Nyx

[quaildoodle]

commission i did for @dantesunbreaker

my commissions are open for anyone interested! :)

[purlty23]

Commission for @dantesunbreaker! Dew feeding their OC Clay’s thirst

[destinysquared]

Drawing I've made for DanteSunbreaker of their Fallout3 Lone Wanderer with Charon. 

Thank you for commissioning me!

Commission Prices/Info Here

[copiousloverofcopia]

Hey there ghesties!!!

Here is a new fic commission, for the awesome @dantesunbreaker featuing Copia and an AFAB Reader!

Thank you so much again ghestie for commissioning me! It was a pleasure to write for you again!!!

Hope you all enjoy!

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

Unwind

Being a sibling of sin is hard...especially when dealing with the wrath of Sister Imperator. Copia helps you find a way to relax.

Also available HERE on AO3!

Definitely NSFW below the cut!

“Oh Lucifer, she is the most miserable and contemptuous woman I have ever met” you hissed as you stormed down the hall. Your voice, thankfully, echoing just out of earshot from Sister Imperator’s office. You had had enough after spending two hours getting drilled, along with a few other siblings, and all over a little indiscretion involving some ghouls and sacramental wine. If it weren’t for the woman being Papa’s mother, and the matriarch of the Ministry, you would have given the old woman something to really rant about. 

Alas, she is a member of the high clergy, and you—only a mere sibling. Instead, you allowed your better sensibility to guide you. Deciding that a walk around out in the courtyard, allowing your boiling blood to come down to a simmer, was a much better choice. Though you wondered if the fresh air and the change of scenery would be enough to shrug off the stress of the day. Still you continued on, walking down the stairs and through the main hall until you reached the exit into the courtyard.

The minute you stepped outside you were met by the beauty of the day. A bright blue sky and the warmth of the late summer sun beating down on you. Any other time you would have thoroughly enjoyed it, but now all you felt was the tension. Upset that even the simple pleasures of a nice day had been ruined by Sister’s raving. 

You made your way around the path that lined the cloister, kicking around a few stones at your feet. Your eyes held down to the ground as you rubbed at the knots in your neck. Kinked up and pained by the heavy mental weight you’d been carrying. Committed to walk off your fury before returning to your duties within the Abbey.

On your third trip around the year you were hit suddenly by the light scent of cologne in the air. The bitter citrus notes, mingling with bergamot and rosemary, quickly followed by a pair of arms around your waist. Arms that were all too familiar and comforting. A smile pulled at the sides of your mouth as you put it all together.

“Amore?” Copia cooed into your ear. A gentle nudge of his head into yours as he hugged you. 

“Oh Papa.” you sighed, turning around to face him. Feeling a bit of relief from only having been pulled into his arms. Copia held you close for a moment, rubbing your back and allowing you to rest on him before he pulled you up to face him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his concern showing through his paints. Worry written in the lines of his face. You dreaded telling him, though you both shared everything together. Even when it may cause a disagreement, the truth was always spoken between you. One thing you both could always count on.

“It’s…It’s…” you stammered, trying to get out the complaint. Your resolve, dampened by the fact that she was his mother. You began chewing your lip, your eyes falling back to the ground and settling on the tops of Copia’s shoes.

“Amore—just tell me.” he begged you, his face stricken with a disheartened frown. His concern, growing with each second of silence that passed between you.

“It’s your mother!” you shouted, bringing your hand quickly to your mouth. Ashamed for having blurted it out like that at him. Copia smiled, looking around the courtyard to be sure it was just the two of you. 

“Tesoro, come with me.” Copia insisted as he practically dragged you off to the storage shield that rested near the far end of the yard. You were skeptical, it wasn’t like him to rush you off in such a way. Deep down you wondered if he was upset with you and wanted to address things in private. Finding the closest place of refuge to scold you.

When you stepped inside, you began to rub at your aching head. Your eyes, crawling over the old planks of wood, bags of mulch, and discarded garden tools that had managed to escape Primo’s attention. Now more worried that you had upset him, than anything else. 

“Papa I am sorry…I wasn’t trying to offend you or Sister…” You began.

“Agh.” Copia scoffed in disagreement.

“...it’s just she drives me crazy with her nitpicking and…” you continued, watching as Copia slowly closed the door up behind you. His eyes fixed on you as he allowed you to vent your pent-up frustration. Then without warning he grabbed you, his lips pressing tightly against yours. Silencing your anger with his affection. Your eyes, unable to help but close as you melted into him. Feeling the bitterness of the day begin to shed from your shoulders.

“You, mio dolce amante, need to relax.” Copia smiled, his lips still held against yours. Kissing you again with tenderness and love. You lost yourself in it, so much so that when he pulled away you became somewhat confused. “You know I’m right.”

“I—I know.” you agreed, leaning back against the old wood shelf near the back of the shed. Copia approached you, his fingers tracing up along the buttons on the front of your shirt. Undoing them one by one until it hung open. 

“She is quite the shrew I must admit.” Copia chuckled to himself, his eyes quickly filling with desire as he began to remove your belt from its loops. The zipper of your slacks, slowly pulled down before your pants fell to your ankles as your body began succumbing to his will. The heat felt as it swirled within your gut. The sense of need, traveling into your core and leaving you wet before you could exhale your next breath.

“Oh Copia.” you purred as he brought his fingers down beneath your underwear and effortlessly found your clit. 

“You see, I can’t help the fact that my mother is…well, how she is amore…but I can do this.” Copia grinned, delighted as you squirmed beneath his touch. Always knowing exactly how you liked to be touched and teased. 

“I was afraid you were mad.” you told him, your voice breathy and low. 

“Afraid?” he asked, baffled at the thought.

“That you’d be mad at me…for being angry with her. I just…just can’t ever seem to stay in her good graces. There is always something keeping me in her sights and not for anything good.” you explained. You made a sharp inhale as Copia dipped his fingers inside you, bringing his mouth to your neck. Nipping and sucking, leaving marks of ownership into your skin. 

“I could never be angry with you…especially not over her…” he promised you, working his fingers deeper and deeper until he reached the spot, he knew would send you on edge. Letting out a satisfied groan as you began to shake inside. “That’s right, cum for me…” 

“Mmm…” You moaned as he worked you. Your insides squeezing tightly against his fingers. Fluids flowing over with your need for him. Hoping that soon he would be inside you—filling you. Copia brought his other hand down between you. Unzipping his own pants and freeing his already leaking cock. 

It was oh so hard, and throbbing, as it bounded out from the confines of his pants. The thick vein that ran its length, pulsing as he stroked himself. The sight of it, only making you more aroused as you replaced his hand with your own. Copia couldn’t help moaning as you touched him.  

“Ah…mmm…” he purred with your touch. His hips, rutting him harder into your hand.

“Are you sure?” you hummed, as you glided over his shaft with ease. 

“Assolutamente, you needn’t pay any attention to her tesoro…you belong to me. She—and everything else are nothing but background noise.” he assured as he pulled you back into a kiss. Tongue conquering yours swiftly as he made you cum again over his hand.    

“Oh C!” you cried as he spun you around. Facing you away from him, your head falling back against his shoulder. You were already so much more relaxed than you’d felt all day. He kissed along your jaw, his hands traveling to the roundness of your ass. Copia, unsatisfied until he’d made you a boneless, limp, and fleshy puddle.

He bent you over the empty shelf. Taking a tight grip on your ass as he ran his cock through your messy folds. You could feel the heat of him against you. Your body, craving for more of him. Desperate for the friction between you and the way he felt inside. It wasn’t long before he indulged you—plunging himself into you. 

“Ah! Cazzo, you feel so good!” he growled as he bottomed out. All you could do was moan and whine. Unable to gather enough brain power to focus on anything other than how tightly he was filling your pussy. You body clinging on to him as he slowly thrusted through you. Tugging against your walls with each pump of his hips.

“Mmm…” you mewled as Copia brought his fingers to your lips. Tracing the line of your mouth until you opened it for him. Allowing his thumb inside and sucking gently on the tip as he has he fucked you from behind. 

“That’s mio topolino…you’re so good for me.” Copia groaned, excited more as you continued to suck and lick his thumb. When he was satisfied, he popped it from your mouth. Using his other hand to guide you further down against the shelf. Angling your body just how he wanted it.

The sounds he was making only served to excite you even more. Washed over in pleasure while he buried his cock over and over into your pussy. It was only moments later when you felt him tease at your ass. Rubbing his thumb against your hole. Allowing you to get used to the stimulation before inserting his thumb inside. 

“Ah!” you called out as he entered you, the fingers of his hand anchored onto your ass. Helping him to hold onto you, as he slipped around his thumb inside you.

“I want you so full of me.” he purred, making small circular motions with it in your ass. “Touch yourself tesoro.” 

“Yes Papa.” you replied, happy to relinquish the control to him, bringing your fingers to your clit as he fucked you. His cock pounding away in your pussy as his thumb worked the sensitive nerves of your ass. Before long, he had you ready to cum again. Your walls, squeezing and pulling, against the rhythm of his cock. 

“Cum for me.” Copia commanded, his voice shaky and breathless. 

“Ah!” you moaned, your fluids leaking out from all around him as you came, hard and fast. The insides of your legs—covered in your satisfaction. He removed himself from you. Still gloriously hard and needing more. 

“I still think you’re a bit tense…let me help fix that.” he told you as he used his cock to gather up some generous amount of juices from your folds. Sliding up through the crack of your ass and pressing the head of his cock, heavy against your hole. Allowing you to adjust before he pushed himself inside.   

"C! Fuck!" You mewled, reaching back to grab at his wrist. Copia, gripping hold to your hips and pounding into you with the full force of his thrust. Leaving well earned bruises on the meat of your ass. 

"Let go amore! Ah! You. Are. So. Fucking. Tight." Copia grunted as he continued. Cock, running through you as your fingers found their way back to your clit. The flesh of your backside gloriously spread out by his hands. Your lover memorized as he watched the space between you, disappearing over and over into your ass. 

The sweat began to pool in the small of your back. Your fingers gripped tight to the old wooden shelf as your lover took you. Copia too was dripping from his brow. Relishing each and every pump of his pelvis into you. 

"Yes! C! Please, I'm cumming!" You cried out as you felt his cock begin to swell. His rhythm, more erratic and desperate as he got close to his own release. 

"Ah! Lucifer tesoro…I'm going to cum for you!" Copia groaned just as he painted your insides in hot, sticky cum. Spilling every last drop from his sack deep in your ass. The force of his climax, and your own diligent rubbing, sending you over. Your fingers slick with cum just as he had just begun to slow his stride.  

"That was exactly what I needed." You exhaled, your body loose and completely free of tension. The stress of the day fading as you melted with your lover's touch. "You always know how to make me feel better and help me unwind." You laughed, as Copia slipped out. Lifting you up into his arms to hold you against him.

"Believe me amore…the pleasure was all mine." He grinned, his paints a bit rougher looking than before. The sweat, blurring the once crisp edges. Smearing the black into the white. 

Notes: 

mio dolce amante- my sweet lover

Assolutamente- absolutely 

Cazzo- fuck

mio topolino- my little mouse

[aghoulettewithnoname]

Commission for the sweet @dantesunbreaker 😭💖

[beepophobia]

Commission I did for @dantesunbreaker !!

[earthry]

Just a Little Puddle | Copia x Reader

Content / Warnings: cardinal copia x transmasc reader, established relationship, stuffed animals, big brother primo giving good advice, sfw, 3k words, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Author’s Note: thank you to @dantesunbreaker for commissioning me once again!

commission info

Overworked and stressed, Copia finds himself saying things he regrets. Though you avoid him for the rest of the day, you end up learning from Primo that being Papa is not easy and that perhaps it's your turn to teach Copia that he don't have to do things alone.

“You are upset.” It’s spoken like a fact, not a question which means Primo can clearly tell what kind of mood you seem to be in. You put down the bags of potting soil as you grimace at him.

“Is it that obvious?” You sound a little petulant, a little sheepish that you seem to be so see through. The papa chuckles however and shakes his head.

“No, I would not say it is obvious, my child. Simply that you have been helping this old man since sunrise and it is almost sunset, no? Don’t get me wrong, it is very nice help, but I have also noticed anytime your amore comes by you suddenly– what’s the expression? Vanish into thin air?”

Ah. Well. That would explain it, yes. He can tell from your silence that he is correct in his assumption and he lets out a little sigh before waving you over to walk to a nearby bench in the garden. “Let’s take a short break and talk, si? You do not need to talk about it, but perhaps it may help to.”

He takes a seat and motions for you to do the same. At first you hesitate, but eventually you cave and sit down next to him. Your entire day has been a sea of complicated emotions and you’re just too tired to keep fighting with them at this point.

“A lover’s spat, perhaps?” Again you grimace at how on the spot Primo is– and he sympathetically pats your shoulder. 

“Kind of? I… I don’t know if it’s a spat exactly. I feel like it’d be easier if it were just some argument, you know?” And boy did you wish for it to be nothing more than a simple argument. You wish for it to be the kind of argument that simmers down after a while– and after a few hours of sulking alone you both forget what you were fighting about in the first place and fall back together like the missing pieces of a puzzle finding home. You just wish.

You’re never that lucky though. At least it feels like you’re never that lucky. Things just always seem to end in a battle no matter how good you thought you had it. One second you’re in paradise and the next the love of your life tells you that he doesn’t know if you’re worth it. 

Copia hadn’t been this angry the time you accidentally spilled wine on his white cardinal suit or the time you accidentally threw away his entire sermon notes. Perhaps it was because he’s Papa now…?

You feel a pang in your heart at that, like your heartstrings are all tangled up and knotted inside your chest. He’d been a little more uptight lately, especially since becoming Papa. Maybe now that he’s someone now, he doesn’t need or want you anymore. 

Fuck, you wish you had brought Malakai with you. He’d know what to think, or he’d at the very least judge you with his little eyes as if they were telling you to not worry and that everything would be okay. He was just wise like that.

At least the garden was in full bloom this time of year, flowerbeds teeming with colorful blossoms as the sun rose high into the sky. 

As the thoughts come rolling, they burst from the seams like cotton, coming out as words of frustration and fear as Primo listens silently with a comforting hand on your shoulder.

It was a stupid mistake, an accident. You hadn’t meant to knock over your coffee but Copia just wouldn’t listen. He’d held the wet and stained documents in his hand and raised his voice and you had felt your hackles rise at that. You hated when people yelled, when people raised their voices in anger and Copia knew that. 

“He said a lot of hurtful things,” you tell the papa listening beside you, “He said he didn’t know what he was doing, and he didn’t know what he’s doing with me. That he doubts our relationship.”

Primo takes a considerable amount of time in thought before he rubs his chin and fixes you with a wise look, “Did he say that? That he doubts your relationship?” He asks kindly. There’s no judging tone or disbelief. Just an honest question that makes you deflate and shake your head.

“Well… no, he didn’t. But it was implied I think.”

“You think?” He replies, and you purse your lips.

“Well, he said that he doesn’t know what he’s doing with me!” You feel like you’re bursting with emotion just remembering his words from this morning.

“Shh, my child. It is okay.” He gently gives your shoulder a squeeze, “Maybe give it some thought and take a step back, si? Your feelings are valid, your hurt is valid– but coming from experience, I think perhaps the one he is frustrated with is not you.”

“Then with who?”

“With himself, my dear.” His eyes are filled with glimmers of understanding and you find yourself pausing to digest those words. All other thoughts came to a stop and swirled around those two simple words. With himself.

“With… himself?” There’s uncertainty and question in your voice as you echo Primo’s words back to him. You look at him, begging with only glances to help you understand.

“Yes, with himself. Being Papa… is not easy.” He grimaces a little, “It’s no small responsibility, little one, especially with the Ministry in one ear and I imagine with Sister Imperator in the other. I remember I would often feel like Atlas holding up the world– when I passed the papacy to my brother it was like an enormous weight was lifted from my shoulders. So, it is my understanding that perhaps when he tells you that he doesn’t know what he’s doing and what he’s doing with you, it is in the idealization that perhaps he feels as if he is letting down everyone around him. Especially you.”

“Oh.” You fall silent. That would make sense; you know that Copia has always been a people pleaser, and has always wanted to impress those around him. Show them what he can do, prove that he’s worth it, that he can do it and more. Everything seems to fall into place a little more now.

Primo was probably right– Copia was probably just stressed. Fights and arguments are natural– and while this is new and he had said something very hurtful, it was something fixable with communication and effort. Perhaps you had been a little harsh too, another opposing force at his back while he struggled. There was no one in the right, no one in the wrong here.

You stand up with this realization with a sudden urgency to find your boyfriend. “I need to talk to him. Sorry, I–” Primo holds his hand up to stop you with an understanding smile. 

“It is alright, my dear. Go find your papa and give him some love, si?” 

With a determined nod, you take off to begin your search. 

—

Finding Copia is proving to be difficult. He is not in his usual places like you’d expected, so you resign yourself to going to dinner and retiring for the night– hoping he would return that evening so the two of you could talk.

Dinner was a quick and simple affair and soon you were headed back to your shared room. When you returned, you noticed Copia’s shoes by the door, meaning he was inside. You swallowed, suddenly a little nervous. Still, you pushed forwards. 

“Tesoro?” Your words are tentative as you look around the room to see Copia sprawled on the floor beside the bed, his back against the mattress as his shape is covered under a blanket. At the sound of your voice, the blanket shifts and he sits up and you can see he looks red-faced and distraught. He’s a sad mess, sniffling again before looking at you with pleading bloodshot eyes and a fresh wave of tears spilling down his cheeks. You can tell he’s been crying for a while at this point, it seems, his papal paint runny and blotchy. 

You feel guilt ebbing at your heart and you’re at his side in an instant. Sliding onto the ground beside your papa, you pull him into your lap, wrapping your arms around him tight, as if you could hold him all together. “Shhh… shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m right here.” Your words wash over him like a blanket, warm and genuine, a comfort as you press a soft kiss to his temple. He’s tense at first, but once you pull him in he immediately melts against you, clinging tight. Once again you feel guilty, this time a sharp prick stabbing your chest. You had left Copia alone for so long, lamenting and selfishly worried about yourself when he had been the one who really needed someone there for him.

He seems to want nothing more than to just cry into you and have your reassurance and presence until all is okay again and as soon as he finds his voice, he’s babbling apologies and pleas for you to stay.

“Mi dispiace, amore mio– mi dispiace. Per favore– don’t go.” He's needy, trying to burrow his head into your shoulder until everything else fades away. Until it’s just you and him. You hold him just a little tighter. “It was me, it was all me– I was wrong, tesoro. Per favore, per favore–”

“Shh– hey, I’m not going anywhere.” You cut him off and press a kiss to his temple and he tremors in your arms. “You can let it out, I’m here. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.” You promise, humming gentle noises of reassurance. A muffled sob escapes from your shoulder as you soothe him. 

It’s like he's a completely different Copia than the one at the Ministry, right now. When he’s there, he’s not allowed to show weakness. His mother doesn’t allow it. He has to be perfect. Perfect for her, perfect for the ministry. 

(Because otherwise, what would it all have been for?)

And he’s been trying so hard recently, trying to please everyone around him, trying to please his mother. So much so he’s accidentally hurt his boyfriend– the most important person to him. How could he?

It's just been so hard lately. Ever since he had stepped up from being a cardinal to a papa, the pressure and guilt always seemed to hang heavy over his head. Of course it hasn’t all been negative— there’s a little more confidence in his step and he’s definitely grown a little more of a backbone in the ministry, putting forth his ideas and thoughts. They meant just as much as anyone else’s, if not more. 

Still, he’s always been sensitive, especially behind closed doors. Always yearning for support, for a guiding hand. Needing the reassurance that he wasn’t a mistake. You knew some of his struggles, some of his insecurities and you feel like you should have known how heavy the burden he carried was– the weight he crumbled under, you should have known how hard he tries to please.

You know a little about his childhood. He doesn’t speak of it often but sometimes, when it’s just you and him in the dark with his head against your chest or yours against his, hands intertwined so tightly you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins— he’ll talk.

He was such a lonely child, with little family or friends. His mother was rarely around either, too obsessed with his father and the ministry. When he grew older, she finally seemed to pay more attention but only with the highest expectations. He was her magnum opus after all. 

You rock him in your arms; gentle waves kissing the shore with open arms. Comforting him with low whispers of love and praise. You tell him how good he is, how you know he’s been working hard. You tell him how much you love him, how proud you are of him. You wipe his tears away with your thumb and press a soft kiss to his tear-stained cheeks.

When it feels like he’s calmed down enough, you tentatively speak. It’s a question that you feel like you already know the answer to, “Did you mean what you said this morning?” 

He shakes his head frantically, quick to also vocally beg his case. 

“No, no– I didn’t mean those words at all, I was an idiot, it was all me. I didn’t mean it the way it came out, I was wrong.” He clings to you even tighter. Seemingly overwhelmed, he makes little noises, unable to continue putting in words how he feels. Despite the situation, you find it cute when he struggles like this, when he makes little adorable unintelligible noises as he tries to pull the correct things to say from his brain. 

“Shhh, you don’t have to say anything, it’s okay. I know.” Your voice is like a balm to his hurts, to the little voice in the back of his head that nags at him constantly that he isn’t enough. He falls silent and his entire body relaxes against your chest. Though little shivers and sniffles still run through him, he’s mostly gone quiet in your arms. Letting you put him back together. “I know you didn’t mean it this morning– I know you were stressed. Yes they hurt,” He lets out a wounded noise that you soothe, “But I know you’re having a hard time right now, aren’t you?”

There’s a few moments of quiet before he silently nods and you reward him with a kiss, lips brushing against his temple and forehead. “I’m also sorry for storming off and not communicating better. Perhaps we will both work on that, hm? I will try to be more understanding in the future. All I ask is that you don’t shut me out, that you lean on me when you need to. You’re not alone, okay? You’re not alone anymore.”  

Your hands begin to rub little comforting circles against his back as he nods against you. It doesn’t take much longer for him to sink into you completely and suddenly, Copia is a puddle in your arms.

You chuckle lightly, unable to resist giving him another kiss to his temple. “You’re just a little puddle in my arms, huh?” You tease, “A cute little Copia puddle.” 

Copia's face brightens a little, though his cheeks tint a little red, and he lets out a soft laugh of his own, face still buried against your chest, and you feel the worry in your chest loosen at the sound. He doesn’t deny it though, especially as he burrows even deeper into your arms. He really is just a puddle in your arms, relaxed and content to soak up your affection.

“Mm… my little puddle.” He lets out a little snort and you can’t resist the teasing. “All mine, mm?” You pepper his face with kisses. 

"All yours." Copia replies, though words are muffled from lying against you and you know he’s a little embarrassed but content too. Relieved. He’s not used to the positive attention, the love you try to shower him in. Even so, he soaks it up like a sponge because it’s all he’s ever wanted. 

You continue to rub his back soothingly, your rocking slowing until you settle with him against the pillows. You feel his heartbeat even out and the sniffles subside almost completely. “Feeling better, tesoro?” You ask gently.

He nods against your chest, eyes closed and contented with your arms around him. “Thank you for not leaving, topolino.” He murmurs quietly. He knows he’s not alone anymore, and it makes all the difference in the world. He had been so afraid of losing you after he’d said those hurtful words to you, unsure of what he’d ever do if you walked out on him. 

“Oh tesoro– I would never leave just because we had one fight. It takes a lot more to scare me off, you know? And besides,” You lean over to pluck Malakai from the sheets, where he’d been keeping an keen eye out for trouble and had been watching quietly, “I’m sure Malakai would miss you terribly.” 

That provokes a smile from Copia and he gingerly takes Malakai from your hands and gives the goat plush a good cuddle. “He is a very good comforter and protector.” Malakai definitely agrees with a little twinkle in his eye, happy to help. You return his smile with a hum of agreement and lean in to give Malakai’s cheek a little kiss. Copia follows suit and gives him a kiss on the other cheek and Malakai is very pleased with this new development. You can tell from the twinkle in his eye.

In a little bit, you’ll get up to run a hot bath where you’ll sit together as you gently help him remove his ruined makeup. He’ll be so soft and pliant in your arms as you wash his hair for him, peppering his face in kisses that he can’t escape. You’ll be ready to help him out of the tub with a big fluffy towel and once you’re both in comfortable pajamas, pull him into bed where he’ll settle into your arms once more. And when the lights have gone out and the room is filled with only soft breaths, you’ll gently ask if he wants to talk about what he’s stressed about.. 

Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. Regardless, he knows it’ll never change anything between the two of you. You’ll tell him you love him, and he’ll whisper the words back so quietly it’s almost inaudible. You’ll tell him that you can’t hear him and he’ll make his little noises from where his head is tucked against the crook of your neck and you’ll laugh. You’ll look at Malakai who’s squeezed between the two of you and tell him out loud how Copia’s once again become a soggy little puddle– to which Copia will huff but you’ll feel the upward curve of his lips tickle against your skin as he smiles.

[her-satanic-wiles]

Soul Stalker

Dewdrop/Sodo x Transmasc!Reader

In the eerie moonlit forest, you are ensnared in a nightmarish game of hide and seek with the malevolent entity Dewdrop, whose demonic force has targeted you. The chilling objective is to survive until sunrise, seeking refuge in the Ministry’s cabin deep within the sinister woods. With the dawn as your only salvation, you must navigate the haunted forest, outwit the relentless demon, and reach safety before Dewdrop claims you as his prize. The race against time intensifies, making the night unforgiving as you strive to survive until sunrise in this twisted pursuit.

Masterlist ⛧ Realm of Souls Masterlist

Commissioned by @dantesunbreaker

Words: 10.9k.

Reading Time: 40 min.

Warnings: biting, choking, comparing loss of breath to drowning, degradation, dubcon elements, face slapping, fear kink, fellatio, fingering, “forced” cum drinking, “forced” fellatio, fucked dumb, hide and seek, horror, knotting, masturbation, mean dom!Dew, mild praise, mind break, monster fucking, I’m in my element, objectification, pain kink, physical violence/fighting, PIV sex, predator/prey, rough fellatio, self choking, skull-fucking, transmasc!Reader, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), vaginal sex, violence

This is low key giving Shia LeBeouf Live by Rob Cantor and I’m not mad about it. Also, kind of exaggerated like hentai, sorry not sorry.

Taglist: @dantesunbreaker @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @namelesshumanperson @gorie-talks-a-lot

🔞 MDNI 🔞

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

You wanted to see. You’d asked him to show you because you didn’t think it would be this bad. As literal demons walking around the Ministry, the Ghouls were tame. Good. Calm. You’d never feel afraid of one, especially Dewdrop. But there you were, squashed into a narrow broom cupboard - more akin to a coffin than a cupboard - with your hand over your mouth and trying desperately to calm your breathing. As you’d asked, Dew had let the full demon out - and this twisted game of hide and seek became more high-stakes than you’d anticipated. At any point you could stop, just by screaming one word Dew would resume control again and return to his human-adjacent personality. But there was something about the fear, the predator hunting you down with eyes darker than night, sharp claws and teeth that could rip you to shreds if Dew didn’t have the control he promised you, that kept you from tapping out too soon. The game was on, the stakes were high, and your heart rate was out of control.

Your mind raced with thoughts - Dew was right behind you a moment ago: your screams echoing as you ran through the Ministry like your life depended on it, because it quite possibly did. Where was he now? Why did he let you escape? He should have been there, chasing you to the dead end and claiming his prize… so why was it quiet? Was he waiting you out? Was he outside? You pressed your ear to the thin door and listened for something, anything, to tell you that he was waiting. His breathing, his chuckling, something.

Nothing.

You rested your hand on the door handle and pushed it down gently… slowly… silently. You opened it briefly, your body tense and prepared to run if you needed to. The door cracked open a small bit and you expected to see Dew’s unmasked face in the slither.

Nothing.

You got braver, opening the door just enough to stick your head out. You peeked left. Right.

Nothing.

Dread pooled in your stomach. You looked up.

Nothing.

“___.” He called, your name ringing on his lips like a twisted song. It was quiet. Distant. But too close for your liking. Quickly and quietly, you retreated back into the cupboard, closing the door with a hushed click. You held your breath. Listening. Waiting. “Where is he?” He asked, his voice more sinister than the tune he sang your name in. But still, it was soft, as though he were trying to draw you out in comfort. Lull you into his stomach. “Where’s my lovely… little… boy?”

You could hear his heavy boots clunk against the carpeted floors. Slow, deliberate steps amplified by the late time and all the Siblings tucked away in their beds, warm and safe from Dew’s wrath.

“I can smell you.” He told you. “I can smell your fear, ___.” You heard his claws scrape along the walls. “It smells divine.” He began trying each door along the corridor, tugging at the handles and swinging open the unlocked ones, grunting in frustration when you didn’t appear. That was when you realised, you didn’t lock the door. You put your hand on the lock and turned it, grateful that this room had the ability to lock it from the inside and you waited - listening to Dew getting closer and closer.

As Dew’s claws scraped against the walls, the scent of terror became an irresistible aroma for him, bringing him ever closer. The sound of the door handle being tried made you freeze in fear, the lock your only pitiful defence against the impending nightmare that awaited you in the Ministry’s shadowed halls.

With a gut-wrenching creak, the cupboard door shifted slightly as Dew applied force from the outside. Panic surged within you, and you held your breath, praying that the lock would hold. The eerie silence outside shattered as Dew’s low growl permeated the air. You gasped, but kept your hand over your mouth, praying that he didn’t hear you.

“I know you’re in there, my pet,” he hissed, the sinister undertone of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “There’s no hiding from me.”

The tension in the narrow space escalated as the door handle continued to rattle, Dew’s frustration evident in every metallic clang. Your mind raced, searching for an escape route or a hiding place within the cupboard that might shield you from his malevolent gaze.

Just as you felt the lock strain under the relentless assault, a sudden diversion disrupted Dew’s pursuit. A distant sound, a creak or a moan, drew his attention away momentarily. The cupboard’s door ceased its ominous rattling, and you could almost sense Dew’s predatory focus shifting elsewhere. You willed him away, silently praying and pleading for him to disappear.

In the stifling darkness, you hesitated, caught between the desperate urge to escape and the paralyzing fear of making a noise. Dew’s voice echoed in the corridor, distant but filled with malicious intent.

“I’ll find you, ___,” he murmured, his words sending a shiver down your spine. “No corner in this Ministry can keep you from me.”

Taking advantage of the momentary respite, you carefully cracked the cupboard door open, your eyes scanning the dimly lit corridor. Dew’s footsteps echoed in the distance, drawing him away for now. With cautious steps, you emerged from the confinement of the cupboard, acutely aware of every creaking floorboard beneath your feet.

The ominous atmosphere enveloped you as you navigated the dimly lit corridor, each step a gamble between the safety of the shadows and the exposure to Dew’s relentless pursuit. The scent of fear lingered, a haunting reminder of the stakes in this demonic game of hide and seek.

You had to navigate the Ministry quickly but silently, keeping your toes light and your eyes and ears peeled for movement or sounds. You’d chosen midnight to play the game, knowing that the corridors would be quiet and you’d be able to avoid the traffic of the rest of the Ministry. And as Dew was only focussed on your scent, he’d gun for only you - hunt only you.

Turning a corner, your eyes flared as you caught a glimpse of activity in the distance. A fleeting shadow flickered along the edge of your vision, making your heart skip a beat. Fear rushed through your veins as you pressed against the cold stone wall, disappearing into the darkness like a spectre. The footsteps, rhythmic and deliberate, approached from around the corner. The shape of Dew’s thin figure appeared, his demonic aura producing an unsettling glow that twisted the air around him. His eyes, dark as the abyss, swept the passageway for any sign of your presence.

In the oppressive silence, you held your breath, praying that the darkness concealed you effectively. Every muscle tensed as Dew’s gaze lingered, seemingly aware of your proximity. The fear that had gripped you in the broom cupboard returned with a vengeance, clawing at your insides. Dew approached, mixed with the aroma of malevolence. The corridor seemed to narrow as his predatory senses zeroed in on the location where you had hidden yourself. Panic threatened to overtake you, compelling you to run, but deciding whether to reveal yourself became a tactical decision, a high-risk bet in the fatal pursuit. Despite your brain screaming at you, you held your ground, disappearing into an alcove without a door and remained still.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Suddenly, his form was right in front of you, illuminated by the glow of the candles. His long, silky blonde hair fell around his horns, and you couldn’t help but notice his otherworldly beauty despite the dire situation you were in. He could smell you - you know he could, any moment now he’d turn and he’d look at you.

He stepped closer towards the alcove, his nose sniffing like a dog as it searched, picking up your fear. You’d rested your hand on the stone, leaving your scent there, giving him a place to anchor onto. He sniffed, his nose getting closer and closer to your scentprint, and, with a growl, his long, demonic tongue emerged and licked the stone, tasting the sweat that had contaminated the brick. It was unsettling to watch, the way he allowed his tongue to feel over every nook and cranny, every bump of the brick. But he’d got a taste for you now.

Suddenly, his eyes flicked towards you, scanning the darkness before a smile appeared on his lips. “Hello, Brother.” He said, ominously, his mouth curving up into a wicked smile. He hovered over you, pinning you into the corner. Despite the petiteness of his stature, in that moment he was very oppressive, seeming to tower over you as you shrank back in fear. His sharp claws gripped at your body, and began to gather your black, monastic habit up at your hip, slowly exposing your body to the elements. He delighted in your fear - almost fed off of it. Enjoying every second you gave yourself to him, willingly or fearfully. It didn’t matter. He’d won. “I’ll claim my prize now.” He told you, those same claws running alongside the seam of your underwear and ripping them in half, allowing them to fall on the floor.

You could feel yourself growing wet at being caught by him, the pools of blackness where his eyes should have been mesmerising you into submission. Hypnotising you into letting him do what he wanted now that he had you. Your knees buckled as you felt him swipe over your bundle of nerves, uncaring where his claws landed. He chuckled when he felt your slick, using his other hand to hold up your robes while he sucked your essence off his hand. “Aren’t you a filthy little boy, hm?” He taunted, relishing the taste of you on his demonic tongue. “Getting wet from being caught. Just give yourself to me,” he moved back to your slit and began stroking, this time adding pressure and making you cry out, “lose the game, little one. I can show you pleasures my human form couldn’t possibly.”

“I w-won’t lose.” You stuttered, your hips moving of their own free will. Your mind didn’t want to lose, but now that Dew had you in his grasp, you couldn’t bring body to tear itself away from him. Giving in would mean he won. Cumming on his fingers like you so, desperately wanted to do would mean he won. But the mewls and whimpers that were escaping your lips were telling the truth, and Dew knew it. He had you, and there was nothing for it.

“Maybe, I’ll stick my cock into this tight, wet, heat, hm? Have you begging for it like the whore I know you are.”

The way his finger ran over your folds was enough to drive you crazy. Your hands gripped onto his skin as your eyes shut tight, hips bucking wildly against his hand and moans tumbling from your lips. You wanted to cum so badly, he’d got you so close already because of the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You wanted his fingers to dip inside you and fuck you, tapping against that spot only he had been able to reach.

Dew in demonic form was much scarier up close; obsidian eyes from corner to corner, pointed ears and long, goat-like horns that helped his face look like an inverted pentagram. His teeth were sharp, all of them jagged at the end as though he were some kind of shark. He smelled entirely of sulfur, of the Hells themselves, and such a smell shouldn’t be appealing, and yet, on him, it was glorious.

“Dew!” You whimpered, your voice growing louder with each passing second. You didn’t care if anyone heard anymore, at this point you were too far gone.

“That’s it, my precious boy. Give yourself to me. Give everything you have to me.”

No, you couldn’t let him win. In a moment of bravery (or stupidity), your knee collided with his balls and in his distraction, you pushed him aside and ran for it, your habit falling as you escaped him.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you darted away from the alcove, propelled by a surge of adrenaline. The echo of Dew’s pained groan mixed with the sinister laughter that followed you, echoing through the dim corridors of the Ministry. Panic gripped you, urging you to push through the terror and escape the clutches of the demonic entity. As you sprinted through the labyrinthine halls, you could hear Dew’s enraged footsteps behind you. His voice, now a guttural growl, reverberated through the air. “You can’t escape, Brother. I always get what I want.” His words were laced with a perverse satisfaction, and the threat hung heavy in the air.

The staircase loomed before you, a darkly illuminated plummet into the depths of the Ministry. Each stride you took carried the echo of your racing heart. The flickering lighting produced strange shadows on the walls, producing a bewildering dance of light and darkness that reflected the insanity in your head. As you descended, the air became colder, and the harsh atmosphere of the demonic hunt persisted around every turn. The walls appeared to close in, and the darkness got more ominous. Dew’s haunting, predatory laughter rang from above, tempting you to walk faster.

When you reached the lowest level, you found yourself in a dim corridor leading to the kitchen. The scent of stone walls combined with the distant aroma of past dinners, creating a bizarre sensory overload that only added to your worry. The corridor seemed to continue indefinitely, a terrifying road pushing you deeper into the unknown. Your footsteps resonated like sinister drumbeats, echoing along the stone corridors. The flickering candles created uneven shadows on the symbols, making them appear to dance illicitly.

As you approached the kitchen, the dark atmosphere intensified. The massive door stood before you, a portal to potential safety, and you pushed it open with frantic might. The kitchen, which was normally a source of warmth and sustenance, suddenly felt like a haven from the demonic creature that chased you, despite the cold and lifeless energy that exuded from it.

The room was dimly lit, with old wooden tables and abandoned cooking utensils casting eerie silhouettes. The scent of stale air mixed with the remnants of forgotten meals hung in the stillness. You ran towards the door, hoping you could escape through the back. But your stomach dropped at the realisation that the door had been locked, and this time there was no key to use to escape. You scanned the room for a hiding spot, your eyes darting between the dark corners and the silent gloom that clung to the walls.

Dew’s growls resounded along the hallway, as his footsteps became harder to ignore. Your movements were driven by panic as you looked for cover, eventually taking shelter behind a huge table that was flipped over. Your terror was suppressed by the adrenaline pumping through your system, but even still, it lay wide awake as Dew swung the doors open. Breathing heavily, you crouched behind the table, desperately trying to control the erratic rhythm of your heartbeat. The flickering candlelight cast elongated shadows, playing tricks on your eyes and heightening the sense of imminent danger. The kitchen held an oppressive stillness, broken only by the distant echoes of Dew’s footsteps drawing nearer.

As you hid, you noticed a partially opened door leading to a pantry. The darkness within seemed like a tempting refuge, and you made a split-second decision to abandon your current position. Darting across the room, you slipped into the pantry and closed the door silently, enveloping yourself in pitch-black darkness. And this time, you made sure not to touch anything, and crouched behind multiple sacks of potatoes.

The air inside was thick with the musty scent of preserved goods. Boxes and cans lined the shelves, and your fingers fumbled in the dark as you sought a place to hide. Huddled among the supplies, you strained to listen for any signs of Dew’s approach. Time seemed to stretch agonizingly as you waited, the oppressive silence broken only by the faint sounds of Dew searching the kitchen. The demon’s guttural growls and muttered curses added to the suspense, amplifying the horror of the situation.

Suddenly, the pantry door creaked open, and you held your breath. Dew’s silhouette loomed in the doorway, his demonic presence sending shivers down your spine. His predatory gaze scanned the darkness, and you dared not move, praying that the pitch-blackness would conceal your presence. For a moment, it felt as if time had frozen. Dew’s eyes flickered over the pantry, his sharp senses on high alert. The air in the confined space became heavy with tension, and you could almost feel his gaze piercing through the darkness.

Then, with an unsettling chuckle, Dew withdrew, leaving the pantry door ajar. The relief was palpable, but you knew the respite would be short-lived. The demon was relentless in his pursuit, and the game of hide and seek persisted with an intensity that surpassed any nightmare.

You carefully pushed open the pantry door and glanced into the kitchen as Dew’s footsteps receded into the distance. For a while, it looked like the coast was clear, so you took advantage of the chance to continue your escape, making your way through the maze-like passageways of the Ministry while the sound of Dew’s chuckle lingered in your ears. The night was filled with more horrors than you could have ever imagined, and the demonic being was far from defeated. As you left, you picked up some napkins from the open bag and stuffed them in your pocket. If your transferred scent could make it easier for him to find you, then you’d just have to deal with using tools to help.

The journey to the Ministry’s main entrance felt like a descent into lunacy. The dimly lit corridors twisted and swirled, each step evoking the frightening recollection of Dew’s chase. The air was overly silent, punctuated only by the groaning of ancient floors beneath your weight. The flickering candlelight created bizarre eerie shapes on the walls, twisting the familiar surroundings into hideous shapes that appeared to mock your desperate escape. The diabolical patterns engraved into the stone walls seemed to writhe with terrible energy, and their unnerving glow added to the eerie atmosphere. This was the first time you’d ever felt unsafe here, and you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to feel it again.

The path to the front entrance took you through spooky passageways hung with images of long-forgotten characters, their gaze seemingly tracking your every step. The silence was hostile, interrupted only by the distant echoes of Dew’s walking as he continued his unrelenting pursuit somewhere off into the distance, but far too close for comfort. The foreboding atmosphere added to the sense of impending doom, and your breath stuck in your throat with each step.

As you approached the entryway, the blackness appeared to deepen, engulfing the flickering flame and throwing the passage into near darkness. The suffocating air clung to your skin, and a chilly perspiration covered your palms as you grappled for the front door handle. To your disappointment, the door resisted your attempts. It was locked, a barrier between you and the potentially safe outside world. Panic poured through you, and the realisation that you might not be able to escape from this wicked game settled like an anchor in your chest.

A horrible sound echoed across the hallway, a strange combination of Dew’s low growls and the frightening laughter that had grown synonymous with your tormentor. The demon was closing in, and the front entry, which had once been a source of hope, now appeared to be the portal to a hellish doom. Desperation drove your actions as you searched for a key, a method to unlock the door and escape the Ministry’s evil grip. The distant echoes of Dew’s approach became louder, his ravenous presence drawing ever closer. Dark figures appeared to creep over the floor, reaching for you like the tendrils of an unknown nightmare.

With shaky hands, you continued your desperate hunt for an escape route, the darkness of the corridor pushing in on you like a creature unto itself. As no key was available, you took a leaf out of Dew’s book and began trying doors, using the napkin you’d picked up from the kitchen earlier. This lead you farther and farther from the front entrance, but even so, there had to be some way out.

Finally, a door opened and you found your way inside, celebrating silently and shutting the door behind you. It wasn’t until you’d turned to lock it, you’d realised where you were. “Papa.” You said, looking at the photos of the late Papa Emeritus III’s past that sat framed on the drawers and shelves. Layers of dust hung in the air like ethereal strands, catching the meager light that filtered through the closed curtains. The atmosphere in the office was stifling, as if the very walls revealed the Ministry’s secrets. The air was dense with strange silence, interrupted only by the slight creaking of the floorboards beneath your cautious steps. A sense of intrusion washed over you, as if the room contained a memory that should be kept private. The place appeared stuck in time, unaffected by the passage of days or years. Forgotten papers were thrown around the desk, their contents concealed by collecting dust. An exquisite chair stood behind the desk, covered in a faded velvet covering reminiscent of a former period.

Your eyes were drawn to the window, a feeble source of outside illumination in the darkness of the room. The curtains, heavy with neglect, clung to the window frame like cobwebs. As you approached, the outside world came into focus, revealing a distorted view of the moonlit landscape beyond. And, much to your relief, the window was unlocked.

You lifted the sash, and climbed out, body shivering in the cold night and the snow that was falling onto your body. As you turned to close the window, you heard Papa Terzo’s clock strike the hour. You were only two hours into the onslaught, but you were outside, now fearing the horrors that awaited you between the trees.

The landscape beyond the Ministry grounds was eerily still. The moon threw an ethereal tint on the freshly fallen snow, transforming the environment into a strange dreamscape. The trees, their branches heavy with winter frost, stood like quiet guardians in the moonlight. You felt fear as you took your first steps into the unknown. The crunch of snow beneath your boots reverberated through the silence, each step a reminder of the desolation that surrounded you. The woods, once a haven of peace, now harboured the threat of unseen horrors.

Two hours into the night, and the ordeal had only just begun. The moon hung like a spectral lantern in the sky, casting long shadows that played tricks on your senses. The snowfall intensified, creating a hushed symphony that accompanied your every step.

Fear gnawed at the edges of your consciousness as you ventured deeper into the forest, the path ahead obscured by the interplay of moonlight and shadow. Every rustle of the leaves, every distant howl of the wind, sent shivers down your spine. The horrors that awaited between the trees became an unknown; a nightmare that unfolded with each passing moment.

With the Ministry now a distant silhouette against the night sky, you pressed on, driven by the urgency of survival and the haunting awareness that Dew was still looking for you within the walls of the Ministry, and he hadn’t realised you’d escaped.

As you descended deeper into the haunted woods, the covering of snow beneath your boots muffled your footsteps, producing an eerie silence that heightened your sensation of loneliness. The starry path ahead twisted and curved, and the skeletal limbs of the trees appeared to stretch out like spectral fingers, throwing lengthy reflections on the snow-covered ground. The chilly air bit at your skin, and your breath created crystalline clouds in the icy night. The haunting beauty of the surroundings contrasted dramatically with the dread that clung to your every move. You couldn’t shake the impression that unseen eyes were watching, and the forest’s silence served as a canvas for the echoes of your pounding heartbeat.

You trekked through the snow, the smothering stillness broken by the distant howl of the wind, which carried an unsettling melody that appeared to mirror the malevolence hiding in the night. Every crunch of snow beneath your boots felt like a drumbeat, a reminder that you were an invader in a land where invisible evils thrived. The moon, now your only source of light in the ink-black sky, projected a pale glow on the snowflakes, resulting in a bizarre landscape that blurred the line between reality and horror. The woods seemed to shut in on you, their twisted shapes taking on a bizarre look that stoked your growing unease. However, with each step, a weird determination replaced the fear. The fact that Dew was still unaware of your escape provided a ray of optimism. The dense forest, however menacing, provided an opportunity for evasion; a brief respite from the evil entity’s persistent pursuit.

You paused, uncertain which way to go when the route ahead split into two. You felt as though the starry branches above were whispering secrets, telling you to make your decision wisely. You were surrounded by silence, only broken by the gentle patter of falling snow and the distant rustle of unseen creatures. Your desire for survival drove you to make a choice despite the uncertainty surrounding it. However, in the unlikely event that this went wrong, all you knew was that Dew would most likely track you down. The trek continued under the moonlight, each step filled with suspense as the mysteries of the winter night’s embrace revealed the horrors that lay beyond the trees.

You were heading to the cabin on the grounds of the Ministry - a much smaller place where you felt like you could defend yourself easier, despite it being so far out. It didn’t matter, really - you were a human going up against a demon. There wasn’t much you could do until the sunlight when the game had finished.

Suddenly, the crack of a tree branch sent shivers down your spine - this crack was closer than the others, much closer and it came from behind you. You fought the instinctive urge to look round, the need to know for sure what that was becoming almost too great to handle. But you also couldn’t bear the idea that Dew had found you so soon. You froze in your tracks, keeping as still as possible despite the fact that you were so, clearly visible at that moment.

The snow crunched behind you, as if a foot had stepped on it. A solitary step in the quiet of the forest. You held your ground and fought against any movement that would reveal where you were, the frigid air seeping into your lungs. The snow around you appeared to sparkle with a sinister radiance under the moon, creating long shadows that deceived your senses.

Another step, and the tension in the air became palpable.

You could now hear the sound of breathing as the crunches got louder and louder, until, eventually, the breaths began to fall on the back of your neck. In your blind panic, you covered your neck with your hand and spun around, eyes frantically searching the treeline for anything that might have made that noise.

Nothing.

Look up, something told you from inside.

The shadow was of a man crouching on one of the branches, impossibly balanced on such a thin branch. You could see his silhouette perfectly as he maniacally gazed down at you. You couldn’t see his eyes, given that they, too, were black. But you could feel them on you. The realisation only lasted a moment before he jumped down at you from his high branch. You barely had the time to turn before he had you buried in the snow, face down into the cold and his body pinning you down. You were writhing beneath him, your nose barely above the snow and your face damn near frozen solid. You did everything you could to fight against him, but he was too strong - mostly because he was in his demonic form. But, from above you, all you could hear was his cackling and chuckling at your struggling.

“Keep fighting me,” he told you, his voice deeper than usual and darker; much, much darker, “I like it when you fight me.”

“L-let go of me!” You shouted, your teeth chattering from the cold.

“And lose my prey? Where would the fun be in that?”

He got off you momentarily so he could flip your body onto your back. Even if you could breathe now, the shock of the cold made you weaker. Weaker, but not unable to fight back. In that moment, you took the opportunity to kick him again, this time your foot collided with his face hard enough to shock him, but not hard enough to do some damage. You flipped, and tried to stand up, even giving yourself enough lower body strength to run a little. But, you felt Dew’s sharp claws dig into your leg and pull you back across the snow.

“You know, you make me so much harder when you’re scared.”

“‘m not scared!” You lied.

He leaned down on top of you, pinning you into the snow. His long tongue came out and licked your cheek all the way to your ear. In a low voice, he told you, “I can taste it on your skin. The smell of your fear helped me find you.” He moved one of his hands down to your core and squeezed. “You wanted me to find you, didn’t you?”

You did. Fuck, you did. As scared as this whole chase made you, it didn’t matter. Even with fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins you wanted him completely. You wanted to spread your legs for him right there in the snow and let him have his way with you - let him win the game, if only to feel him balls deep inside you, rearranging your guts in a way his human form always held back.

Dew always let the darkness take over when he was in his demonic form, always suppressed any of that stereotypical humanity that made him so sweet and lovable - the reason you fell for him. Unlike the other Ghouls, he rarely shifted, which would hurt his mental state in the long run. For the other Ghouls, regularly shifting allowed them to retain their “humanity” in demonic form - in essence, they could control themselves and wouldn’t become bloodthirsty beasts, sacrificing others for Satan’s pleasure. But Dew was different. He could never control himself in the same way the others could, and the longer he stayed out of his demonic form, the worse it got.

You’d told him that you could handle it, that it was important for him to shift and learn to control himself. You’d told him you could trust him. Was a lot of this spurred on by the fact that you wanted him to fuck you in his demonic form? Absolutely. But once you learned how important it was, you began to worry that you were holding him back, and damaging him in the process. This whole conversation sparked an argument, that was only settled when the game was suggested… by you. And he’d agreed.

And now, here you were, pinned beneath him with his fingers stroking over your soaked core, feeling your own sanity slipping away at the callouses that rubbed you so deliciously.

Do whatever it took to get away from him.

You fought him some more when you’d come to your senses, pulling his arm and removing his hand from you. Another slap, another kick, and you’d gone before he had the chance to recover, running through the snow to get to that cabin.

Your breath came in sharp gasps, the cold air making your terror obvious. The thicket seemed to be attempting to entangle you in its nightmare as you pushed through, its branches seemingly reaching out to grab hold of your habit and snaking around you. The landscape was warped into a confusing maze as the shadows moved in frightening patterns. A chilly wind blew across the woods, bringing the eerie sounds of Dew laughing with it. His presence appeared to warp the entire fabric of reality, like an ominous shadow that was always there. Panic gripped you, urging you to run faster, to escape the clutches of the demonic entity that hungered for you.

You felt as though the forest was closing in on you, the trees acting like dead spectators to your desperate escape. The horrors that hid within were hidden by the abyss-like darkness that spread between the trunks. The fear that pursued you was heightened by each snap of a twig and each rustle of leaves, intensifying the adrenaline-driven pulse in your chest. You cast a quick glance over your shoulder and saw Dew’s shape in the moonlight, his eyes shining with an otherworldly evil. With an uncanny speed, the monster closed the distance, unaffected by the barriers that stood in your way.

A scream, half-strangled by fear, clawed at the back of your throat. The thought that there might not be a way out of Dew’s unrelenting pursuit was like a crushing weight on your chest. With every step you made, the forest felt more like a trap closing in on you, drawing you more into the diabolical nightmare.

Through the dense foliage, the dim glimmer from the cabin’s windows flickered like a far-off light of hope. Your legs began to pump more forcefully as a result of the sight, propelling you through the snow-covered forest and towards the prospect of a makeshift haven. The cold air burned in your lungs, but you were driven forward by terror of Dew’s unrelenting pursuit. The cabin appeared to emerge gradually from the darkness, with each stride defining its outline more clearly. The snow-covered walkway leading to its entrance had a ghostly glimmer from the moon. The unsteady ground could have easily caused you to stumble, but the need to get away drove you along, breathing heavily and irregularly now.

The haunting echoes of Dew’s pursuit grew louder behind you. His evil laughter cut through the chilly night, resonating between the trees in a chorus of evil. The fear that seized every step was heightened by the feeling that you were being chased by a demon who’d been summoned from the pits of Hell - to play guitar of all things. The snow seemed to be working against you as you got closer to the cottage. Through the thick forest came the distant thud of Dew’s footfall, getting closer and closer. Severe panic struck, and you threw a quick check over your shoulder, only to see his shadow moving closer.

The cabin’s door stood before you, a portal to potential safety. You sprinted towards the entry, your power amplified by adrenaline, and fumbled with the lock, flinging the door open. The inside warmth provided a momentary relief from the stinging cold, but the anxiety persisted because Dew was quite literally a few feet away.

You heard him thud against the door as you stumbled inside and slammed it shut behind you, locking it just in time. The wooden wall seemed weak in the face of the otherworldly energy chasing you. The cabin seemed to be a flimsy fortification, protecting you from the dangers that waited in the wintry darkness. A strange wind shook the windows, and the air within seemed to move in time with Dew’s evil chuckles, making the place feel stifling and heavy on your breath.

It dawned on you, as you gasped for air in the dark inside, that you were not alone. With his laughter a terrifying preface to the unrelenting pursuit that had turned into an unavoidable nightmare deep within the snow-covered woodland, Dew’s presence loomed just outside.

From the other side of the cabin door, Dew’s voice slithered through the wood like a serpent, a sinister melody that sent shivers down your spine. “Come out, little one,” he hissed, the words dripping with a malevolent blend of amusement and hunger. “So, you thought this feeble cabin could save you from me?” Dew’s voice dripped with amusement, the words weaving through the air like a dark incantation. “Did you really believe you could outsmart me, little one?”

The mocking tone cut through the silence within the cabin, reminding you that this all seemed useless. The demonic entity reveled in the revelation that you had unwittingly confined yourself within the very trap you thought would offer protection. “You’ve locked yourself in, and now there’s nowhere left to run,” he continued, the malevolence in his voice intensifying. “Just wait until I get my hands on you.

“Do you want me to tell you what I’m going to do to you?” You heard a slam on the roof, and jumped at the noise. “Do you know all the ways I’m going to make you scream?”

You glanced at the clock, its hands ticking away the agonizing moments. Dawn was fast approaching and the realization hit you—three more hours of enduring the demonic onslaught. The cabin, once a potential sanctuary, now felt like a prison where time stretched into an eternity, each passing second carrying the weight of impending horror.

Dew’s voice, laced with a perverse excitement, slithered through the confined space of the cabin, each word a grotesque brushstroke painting a vivid picture of the torment he envisioned.

“I want to hear you scream,” he rasped, the words carrying a disturbing hunger. You saw him run past one of the windows from the corner of your eye. “To feel your fear, your desperation. I want to revel in the music of your screaming.”

A sinister chuckle punctuated his words, echoing the sadistic pleasure he derived from the impending cruelty. “Do you know the exquisite pain of anticipation? The way your heart pounds, the cold sweat that coats your skin? I relish every moment leading up to the finale of your suffering.”

Dew hovered outside the cabin like an evil spirit from hell, his raptor’s eye fixed on the building that was now both your haven and your prison. The demonic figure turned around the cottage, a silent hunter enjoying the macabre game, and the snow-covered landscape witnessed his threatening silhouette.

With his claws, he scraped the walls of the cabin, creating a frightening rhythm that echoed through the silent night. Through the darkness, you could see the predatory delight in his eyes, which told volumes about the sadistic pleasure he took in torturing you. And you realised under that gaze, that your thighs were clenching together so tightly, they were beginning to ache.

“I can almost taste your fear,” he hissed, the words carrying on the frigid breeze. “Do you feel the inevitability of your demise, little one? There’s no escape. Nowhere to hide from the darkness that I bring.”

Dew kept stalking around the cabin, frightening and teasing. With an inhuman power, he pounded on the glass, the reverberation echoing through the wood like a sinister drumming. His ominous laughter seemed to be carried by the howling wind, adding a haunting element to the terrifying scene.

A deep silence fell, in stark contrast to the prior chorus of torment. The eerie quiet seemed to last indefinitely, producing an unpleasant tension that lingered in the air like a physical weight. Dew’s predatory dance around the cabin came to an abrupt end. The night held its breath, as if even the elements were hesitant to disturb the strange silence that had descended upon the snow-covered landscape.

The absence of his taunting and the eerie echoes of his presence created an unsettling stillness. It seemed as if the night’s spirit had been suppressed, replaced with an apprehensive stillness.

The sudden end of Dew’s movements left you in suspense, wondering why he’d stopped. The cabin felt like a refuge enveloped in stifling silence; the only sound left was the distant howl of the wind, whispering whispers through the skeletal trees.

You took tentative steps towards the window, compelled by an instinctive urge to check Dew’s presence or absence in the eerie silence that covered the cabin. The floor creaked under your weight, each sound reverberating in the silence like a muffled drumbeat.

As you looked through the frost-kissed glass, all you could see was the bleak endlessness of the snow-covered forest. However, there was no trace of Dew.

Uncertainty gnawed at you, and the silent unease inside the cabin reflected the peaceful stillness of the frigid night. Was this a respite, a brief pause, or the calm before another storm of horror? The questions continued, and your heart couldn’t calm down.

An unexpected, explosive crash broke the fragile peace within the cabin. The door, ripped from its hinges, flew through the air, leaving Dew standing in the gaping doorway. His intimidating presence radiated malevolence, a dark silhouette framed by the smashed entrance.

The evil entity’s eyes sparkled with an unfathomable intensity as he studied the limited area. The morbid game of hide and seek had reached an unsettling end. Dew’s lips curved into a nasty smile, a grotesque victory imprinted on his face.

“Will you run from me now, Brother? Or will you get on your knees for me like the good whore I know you to be?”

You tried to make a break for the door, knowing that you wouldn’t make it, but even so, the intention was there. Dew, of course, gripped hold of your body and wrestled you to the ground. He admired your helpless body lounging there on the hard, wood floor, reveling in the fear he could smell and how wide-eyed you were. He stood above you, mighty and powerful.

His hand reached his trousers and undid the zipper and button, pulling them halfway down his thighs. His underwear too, allowing his erection to spring free.

Demonic Dew was huge. So big you weren’t entirely sure you could take him. His cock looked vaguely similar to a human’s except for the size and the blunt ribbage down both sides of the shaft. The colour too, a dark grey at his pubic mound, tapering off into a light grey that spread in a gradient of a blush pink at the tip. A thick, grey knot sat at the base just above the pubic mound that had a pit forming in your stomach. He was going to make you take that - you just knew it.

“Knees.” He commanded. Both your fear and arousal worked in tandem to propel you to your knees, sitting patiently for him like a dog waiting for his master. “Suck it all down that throat of yours.”

You placed your hands on your thighs and leaned forward. Your tongue appeared from behind your cracked lips and made contact with the head of his cock, purely to help guide it into your mouth. Once it had lined up, you moved your head forward and sucked the head in. Dew hissed at the feeling of your warm mouth encapsulating him, but it wasn’t anywhere near enough.

His hand tangled in your hair and he pushed you down as far as you could go, making your lips touch the base of his cock. He was forceful enough that you couldn’t fight back easily, but slow enough not to hurt you. Dew could feel everything you gave him, the wetness of your mouth, the way you swallowed around his head.

His grip in your hair got tighter and he started maneuvering your head for you, watching you as you bobbed up and down his length. His hips couldn’t keep still and so eventually he just held your head in place and used your throat like his own personal toy. All the while, your eyes were watering and your face was getting redder and redder with exertion. He let you pull off for a second, and watched as you gasped desperately for air. Tears were running down your cheeks now, and your lips were beginning to swell so tantalisingly, he could feel himself losing what little control he had over himself. He couldn’t take it anymore; he wanted to see you struggle again and so he forced his cock back into your mouth.

He fucked your throat as roughly as he wanted because he knew you could take it - but he honestly didn’t care if you couldn’t. You were his prize, his to treat however he wanted to. And you’d accept everything with grace, and poise, and thank him for obliterating your throat afterwards.

He allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of your throat, watching you take it all and struggle with it. The way your lips stretched around his tip was obscene enough, but with each rib that was fed to you and removed with a pop, he could barely contain himself. His toes curled in his boots, and a smile formed on his face. He chuckled as he fucked your throat, loving how you gave yourself so willingly to him in the end.

He looked down at the mess of you, at the sweat forming on your brow and your robes shaking from how hard he was ramming into you. It was then he saw your hand moving, dipping beneath the hem of your monastic habit and stroking yourself through it. Slow circles at first but once you saw he caught you, your fingers began to move over your wetness faster.

“Shit, look at yourself.” He began, his voice hoarse from his pleasure. “Working yourself while I fuck your tight little fucking throat.” He was speaking through gritted teeth at that point. “Do you like this? Do you like being treated like a common fucking whore? Hm?” He slapped your cheek and let go of you, pulling you off of him with a pop. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” Your voice was husky and weak from the amount of times he’d hit the back of your throat.

Dew began to grumble and growl, frustration evident in his noises. “Not tight enough.” He looked down at your other hand and realised it wasn’t doing anything. He wanted it elsewhere. “Take that fucking hand and choke yourself. Squeeze that fucking throat.” He instructed you as he fed his cock back into your mouth.

And you did. Using your thumb and three of your fingers, you placed your hand on your throat and squeezed from the sides adding more pressure and a tighter hole for him. He groaned and laughed in response, loving the extra tightness and shoving himself so far down your throat, you could feel his pubic mound bashing against your nose with each thrust. You knew Dew’s human form well enough to know when he was about to cum, and apparently his demonic form was just as similar. His thrusts were becoming more erratic and more violent, a clear sign that this side of him was about to cum down your throat without giving you a second thought. So, you began to touch yourself harder, rubbing at your bud faster and faster until you burst.

Your body stiffened as your orgasm washed over you, the world stilling around you with the exception of your fingers and Dew’s hips. You continued to touch yourself through the orgasm, trying your hardest not to bite down with Dew being so far down your throat, and the restraint of that action alone was enough to make your jaw ache even more. When you’d finished, you concentrated back on Dew’s cock, but it wasn’t long before he came too, pushing your head further into his body and giving a few, final, short, sharp thrusts before his cum was spilling down your throat, giving you no choice but to swallow it.

“Yeah, that’s it. Swallow it… down for me… Such a slutty boy, t-taking every fucking drop. Shit!”

He pulled out of you with a groan and you gasped desperately for the air he’d restricted from you, swallowing the leftovers and wiping your chin clean of any droplets of cum that had spilled out.

Once you’d regained control of your lungs, and you didn’t feel like you were drowning anymore, you chanced a look up at Dew. He still stood, towering above you with you on your knees, black eyes focused on your exhausted body and white fangs appearing over his dark red lips in a menacing smile. Your eyes roamed down his body to his cock, which was still as hard as ever - as if you’d never gone through all that. He was ready to take you again.

With little fight left in you, you let his hand push you back onto the floor, making you lie flat against the wood. He got on his knees and lifted your habit, exposing your dripping heat to him. He got on his knees in between your legs, and continued to smirk at you - he’d won and you both knew it.

He started to position himself above you, aligning with your sopping heat and using his cock to stroke your folds. Your fingers bit into the floor as oversensitivity set in, and your heart raced with expectation. He drew your hips closer to him, partially resting on his thighs, and laughed a little at the sound your body made as it was dragged against the floor. You didn’t feel particularly ready for his length inside you after feeling it down your throat, but you also didn’t want to stop him, anticipating the delicious pain that would come from his monstrous cock penetrating your walls and fucking you so deeply you could pass out. Dew could feel your core clenching around nothing, practically screaming for him to fill it. “You believed, little one, that you could outrun me?” He taunted as he rutted against you. “As naive and stupid as ever, it’s your own fault for running. If you had only submitted to me, I would have been nice to you. This will just hurt for a little while, so don’t worry.”

He loved the way your eyes lit up with a host of feelings before allowing your face to contort with the pleasure of him sliding his massive cock within you, inch by monstrous inch. You shook every time one of the ribs drove into you, pushing you even further and anchoring you completely to him. There was lust in your eyes, of course, savouring how each pop had you gasping for breath and tried to commit it to memory. But the pain was just as delicious as you expected, causing you to cry out so loudly, if anyone outside heard you, they’d think something awful was happening to you. Instead, you were being stuffed so full of an impossibly large demon cock, your body was almost shutting itself down to cope. You could already feel your mind clearing out of anything other than the current sensations.

Dew continued to make fun of you with each inch your horny centre swallowed. “Did that hurt? Good. I told you it would. Keep screaming for me like that, and I’ll pop my knot into you.”

Dew’s pace was just as rough as it was the first time, with him practically riding your body for his own pleasure. Every time he pulled out, you could feel the ribs of his cock popping out of you then forcing their way back in with each thrust, making you tighten around him so much, your body was trying to keep him where he was. Your back arched off the floor, so only your shoulders and arms were holding you upright, aside from Dew’s hands on your hips as he pounded into you, over and over again; but this allowed for your habit to ride up slightly and let him catch sight of your stomach, and how his cock was visible even underneath all the muscle, fat and flesh. How he was so big, he left an indent where he fucked you. No wonder you couldn’t focus on anything except for him. You allowed loud moans to fall from your lips, as the angle Dew fucked you at had his cock and it’s ridges hitting that spot each time, carving out a space for himself within your hole.

“I knew you fucking wanted this,” he told you, no longer using his hips to fuck you but moving your body quickly with his strong arms. “Wasted so much time. C-could’ve fucked you back there.”

Drool was pooling in the corner of your mouth, spilling outwards and down your cheek with each impeccable thrust. The further down his cock he worked you, the more you could feel his knot catching at your entrance. Silently, you wondered how that was going to fit inside you too. But your body was begging for it, pleading for that knot to force its way inside you.

Besides your screaming, your core was the loudest thing in the room. So wet, his cock splashed when it fucked into you as roughly as it did. You could feel it running down your ass cheeks and landing on the thighs of his jeans. And you didn’t need to look to know that you’d left a ring of white around the top of his knot, your pussy creaming as it took his cock over and over and over, loving each second.

You bit your lip and clutched onto his strong arms, those arms and hands holding onto your hips for support as he brutally ploughed into you, getting deeper and deeper till his tip reached your cervix and his shaft rubbed against that sweet place.

“You want it? You want this fucking knot inside you?” When you didn’t answer, he slapped your face again. “Fucking answer me!”

“Yes!”

“Beg for it, slut.”

You whimpered, you whined and you screamed for him, but a coherent sentence wasn’t something that you could put together verbally. In your mind, you had begged for it already, begged for his cum to fill you up. But your mouth wasn’t responding. Your body wasn’t responding. Nothing you did worked, except for your fingers running over yourself in sheer desperation for a second orgasm.

Dew just laughed at you, mocking you for your neediness, but he said nothing as he continued to bounce you on his cock, fingertips digging into your body as he maneuvered you exactly how he wanted, and eventually, his knot slipped inside.

You didn’t warn him when you came - you couldn’t. Your brain was too clouded to register anything and announce any more than a squeak before your body convulsed and spasmed around his cock, your eyes blacking out and your mouth open in a silent scream. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think, all you could do was feel everything, everywhere, all at the same time.

This, being his final straw, tipped him over the edge a second time, his fangs digging into your stomach as he bent over, expelling the remainder of his energy through the chomp. It didn’t hurt - but it wasn’t as if you could feel it anyway.

*

You slowly opened your eyes to the soft glow of dawn seeping through the windows of the cabin. The air inside was cool, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of pine. As you lay on your back, you felt the worn wooden floor beneath you, and your body ached. As your eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the curtains, you felt the warmth of the sun’s first rays gently caressing your tired limbs. The golden hues painted the room, casting a tranquil glow that danced across the wooden walls.

Turning your head, you caught a glimpse of Dew, curled up beside you in his human form, still lost in the world of dreams. But his senses were on high alert still and even the smallest movement of your body caused him to jolt awake. You winced as you tried to sit up, the soreness in your muscles protesting the movement. Dew stirred beside you, his eyes fluttering open as he sensed your shift.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from sleep and the recent body change. His eyes, now back to the normal, beautiful green colour they usually were, locked onto yours with concern. “How are you feeling?”

A faint smile played on your lips as you reached out to gently stroke his tousled hair. “I’ve had worse days,” you replied, though the pain in your body betrayed your attempt at nonchalance.

Dew sighed, his expression reflecting the guilt he felt. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess,” he whispered, his eyes casting down. “I never meant for you to get hurt.”

You reassured him with a soft smile, “Dew, it’s not your fault. I told you I could handle it.”

“I shouldn’t have agreed.”

“Dew…”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. I pushed you when you were uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. Not that I minded…” you cleared your throat awkwardly, “earlier.”

Dewdrop raised his eyebrows. “Well,” he exhaled, “I hope you remember it well because it won’t happen again.”

You sighed, disappointed, but nodded in understanding. His eyes met yours again, and you could see the conflict within him. “I just… I can’t stand seeing you in pain because of me.”

You shifted closer to him, embracing him gently. “We’re in this together, Dew. I chose to be by your side, no matter what comes our way. Pain is just a small part of the journey.”

He nodded, a mixture of gratitude and sorrow in his gaze. “I appreciate that, but I still wish I could protect you better.”

You chuckled softly, “You’re doing your best, and that’s all I can ask for. We’ll face whatever comes next, together. D-do you remember what happened?”

He sat up and slapped you playfully. “I remember you didn’t do as I fucking asked! What happened to, ‘get away from me at all costs and don’t let me fuck you?’”

“I saw your dick and couldn’t help myself.”

He hit you again.

“Alright, okay! I’m sorry.” You sighed. “I will miss it, though. Are you sure you can’t just do some exercises and shift like the other Ghouls?”

Dew couldn’t help but chuckle at your attempt to lighten the mood. “It’s not that simple,” he explained. “They’ve not spent as long in Hell as I have. It’s not just about exercises; it’s a mental and physical process that takes time to master. A lot of therapy will be needed that I’d have to return to Hell to get.”

You nodded, understanding the complexities involved. “I guess we’ll have to figure out a new plan then. Maybe find some other way to deal with those situations.”

Dew sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. I can’t always control it, and I don’t want to risk it.”

You gave him a reassuring smile. “We’ll find a way, Dew. Together. We always do.”

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m lucky to have you by my side. Even if I can’t protect you the way I want to, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

As you both sat there in the warm glow of the morning sun, you knew that challenges lay ahead, but the bond between you and Dew was strong. Together, you were determined to face whatever came your way, finding solutions and supporting each other through the ups and downs of your journey.

Next Part ⛧ Realm of Souls Masterlist

Commissions are open! ⛧ Memberships ⛧ Tip Jar

[darkhairedmenrule]

BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD!❣️ Once you are given this award you're supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people you adore! Absolutely no pressure but. It's sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out <3

Awww thank you sweetheart that’s so kind of you🫶🏻 I’ll definitely tag some friends that I adore 🖤

@brighteyedbushybrowed @dantesunbreaker @immarocketman @morvantmortuary @lilspacewolfie @silverofthunder @ibikus @copiasjuicebox

[rileyomalley]

YCH Commission for @dantesunbreaker

COMMS OPEN// https://rileyomalley.wixsite.com/portfolio/commission-prices

Tip if you like my work!// https://ko-fi.com/rileyomalley

Want something like this? DM me and we'll discuss!

[quaildoodle]

a commission i made for @dantesunbreaker :3

[purlty23]

Commission for @dantesunbreaker!! As well as a nsft commission here!

[destinysquared]

Mojave Shade (COMMISSION)

Drawing I made for DanteSunbreaker of their fallout OC with The Ghoul from the new Fallout series. Thank you so much for commissioning me! Commission Prices/Info Here