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Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!OC (Curator!OC), Cirrus x f!OC x Cumulus
Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI
Tags: oh god where to begin, threesome, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), making out, serious relationship conversations, consensual infidelity, titty sucking, QUINT STRAP, masturbation, voyeurism, copia in the cuck chair, copia getting his balls slapped for being a little shit
Words: 7,338
Summary: Natalie's always liked the ghoulettes. Maybe a little too much for her own good.
a/n: trying to keep track of which she and her i'm talking about when the three of them were fucking made me mental so if you see me abusing the use of natalie's name no you fucking don't lmao
~~~
“Cardinal, what are your thoughts on sharing?”
Copia sets down the document he was reviewing and leans back in his chair, looking up at the ghoulette looming over his desk.
“It’s eh, a nice concept,” he says slowly, eyes flicking from Cirrus’ face to Cumulus seated behind her. “Is there something you…have in mind?”
“Your girl,” Cirrus says bluntly, and Cumulus yanks her backwards to sit in the chair next to her and give her a stern look. Copia’s eyebrows raise and he reaches up to stroke his mustache.
“What Cirrus was trying to say,” Cumulus begins, giving Cirrus another sideways glance, “is that we noticed there’s some um. Tension. Amongst us. And it’s not romantic,” she says in a rush, raising her hands placatingly when Copia opens his mouth, “we have no designs on her heart. That thoroughly belongs to you. What we mean is ah…more physical.”
A silence falls in the office as Copia watches his ghoulettes carefully while trying to fight back a smile.
“I see,” he says solemnly, leaning forward to steeple his hands, “Have you discussed this with her?”
“We didn’t want to uh, step on any toes. So no. Not yet, anyway.”
He lets the silence simmer for a moment, watching Cirrus look around the room and Cumulus anxiously rub her hands. When he begins to laugh it makes both of them jump in their seats.
“Ladies,” he chuckles, “As if I haven’t seen your hungry eyes on her at every turn. I am very glad that you asked me for permission but the person you really need to speak to is her.”
A beat passes.
“So…is that a yes?” Cirrus asks, leaning forward.
“From me, sì. Under one condition, naturalmente.”
The ghoulettes look at one another.
“I get to watch.”
Cirrus snickers and Cumulus smiles.
“Oh that was a given, of course. But…you’re open to it?”
He smiles fondly at them.
“Sì, sì, I think it’s only fair to let her experience being with a woman or, eh. Women. Since she came to me untouched.”
“She what?!”
Once again he has to smother his laughter and instead looks at their gobsmacked faces kindly.
“Oh yes, you didn’t know? Despite her inexperience, however, she’s always been rather eh, voracious. And well…she’s not so inexperienced now I suppose, heh.” His eyes briefly unfocus as his mind conjures images of Natalie in a litany of positions, eagerly and loudly taking him deep inside her–
Cumulus clears her throat politely.
“W-what…what were we talking about?”
“Your mate and her considerable sexual appetite,” Cirrus says wryly. Copia flushes deeply and fusses with his cassock, ignoring the bulge in his lap currently being hidden from view by his desk.
“Eh, right, right. Well as I said, this is ultimately her decision so uh, by all means. I think she’s working in the archives today.”
The ghoulettes stand and Cirrus gives him a slight bow before they turn to leave.
“Best of luck, my ghoulettes,” he calls to them as they walk out, surreptitiously adjusting himself. When the door shuts behind him he sags against the back of his chair.
This is going to prove interesting.
—
“Knock knock.”
Natalie turns to look at the door and sees two figures slip into the room - Copia’s ghoulettes, Cumulus and Cirrus. Her face splits in a smile - and her cheeks flush - as she waves the two in.
“Come on in, I’m just going through some of these old purchasing records for the collection. I–sorry, neither of you want to hear about this,” she says sheepishly, tucking a loose dark curl behind her ear.
Cirrus hops up to sit on one of the research tables while Cumulus leans on it next to her.
“We’d love to hear about it,” Cumulus murmurs.
Natalie laughs. “You’re both very kind but not even Copia can listen to me talk about this kind of thing without nodding off no matter how hard he tries. I won’t subject you to it. How can I help you, though? Surely you didn’t come down here just to see me.”
“And if we did?” Cirrus purrs, leaning forward and putting her palms on her knees. Cumulus shoots her a sideways glance, lips tugging downwards in a slight frown.
There they are. Those butterflies ricocheting off the inside of Natalie’s stomach every time she has an encounter with the two of them. The butterflies that make her sick if she allows herself to linger on them. The butterflies that whisper accusations of infidelity in her ear.
“T-Then I’m sorry to disappoint you, ladies, for not being a more entertaining host.”
“Actually,” Cumulus says, her voice soft, “We wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Oh?” Natalie abandons the stack of record books to fidget with her hands.
“Something um, personal.”
Cirrus hops down from the table and slowly begins to advance on her, lips curving into a smile that shows the points of her canines. It’s predatory and devious and utterly delicious and Natalie’s terrified. She backs her against a bookcase and props her hand above her head, Cirrus’ breath stirring the flyaways on the side of Natalie’s face.
“Cirrus!” Cumulus barks, “You’re freaking her out, knock it off!”
Cirrus whips around.
“What? I just figured the best way to get what we want is to show her what we want.”
“And w-what do you want?”
Natalie’s voice is small, her concentration mainly focused on how she’s going to explain this should any unexpected visitors walk in. Cirrus still looms above her but is pulled away roughly by Cumulus, giving Natalie an opportunity to breathe once again.
“Angel,” the shorter ghoulette breathes and the pet name makes Natalie’s knees wobble traitorously, “We had a conversation with the Cardinal earlier - about this thing going on between the three of us.”
“N-nothing’s going on,” she whispers, panicked. “What…what did you say to him?”
“This is going really well, ‘Lus” Cirrus groans, collapsing in a desk chair.
“Fuck,” Cumulus swears under her breath, “Okay let’s back up. Start with the basics. We like you.”
“…I like you too.”
“Allow me to be more specific. We like you. As in we want you.”
Natalie’s mouth gapes but no words come out.
“As in,” Cirrus says, spinning in the chair, “As in we want to do filthy, unspeakable, unholy things to you. And don’t act surprised - we can smell it on you. You want it too.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Natalie scoffs, cheeks flushed and arms crossed defensively, “I-I would never be unfaithful to Copia, regardless of what you smell on me.”
“We know, hon,” Cumulus murmurs, “which brings us back to the conversation we had with him earlier today.”
“You spoke with him about–about—”
“Sharing you?” Cirrus smirks, “Yeah. And he was open to it, under one condition - and provided that you are open to it, of course.”
“Sharing me? What like some kind of fucked up romantic timeshare situation? He was open to that?”
“Oh, don’t worry - we have no designs on your romantic relationship. We would never do that to the Cardinal. What we propose is purely physical.”
Natalie goes quiet for a moment, heart racing.
“What was Copia’s condition? Apart from my consent.”
“He wants to watch,” Cirrus says, lips curling into a filthy grin.
Natalie’s cheeks are so hot she swears she’s going to pass out, but no longer from embarrassment or stress.
From arousal.
“The two of you…really want me?”
Both ghoulettes laugh incredulously.
“Is that so hard to believe?” Cumulus says, stepping forward to toy with the loose ends of Natalie’s dark hair. “Pretty little thing like you? Always being so sweet to us - to all the ghouls? We would be honored to have you.”
“And have you we would,” Cirrus growls, rising from her seat to advance on her once more, “Over and over until you beg for us to stop. Get you so drunk on pussy you can’t think anymore. All while your beloved mate watches us. So what do you say?”
When Natalie’s eyes slide closed and head tilts back, a small whimper escapes her and she hears Cumulus sharply inhale.
“Think that’s a ‘yes’, ‘Lus.”
“I want to hear her say it,” Cumulus breathes, “Go on, angel. Tell us what you want.”
“Want…” Natalie’s voice comes out in a rasp, “Want you both. Want you to fuck me until I forget my own name. Want to taste you. And I want Copia to watch as you use my body for your own pleasure. Please. Please I–”
Her words are cut off as Cumulus lunges forward and slides her fingers to cup the base of Natalie’s skull as her soft lips press against hers. She’s languorous about it - decadent - teasing Natalie’s mouth open to slide her tongue against hers. She hears Cirrus whine and Cumulus chuckles into her mouth before pulling away. Before Natalie can say a word, the taller ghoulette is upon her, backing her into the bookcase once more. Cirrus’ kiss is more forceful than Cumulus’ - though no less enjoyable - and Natalie gasps in delight when she slots a firm thigh in between her legs. When Natalie’s hips rut against her, she pulls back.
“The Cardinal was right,” Cirrus grins, “You are a voracious little thing, aren’t you?”
Natalie laughs, hands brushing her waist.
“He said that about me?”
“Mmhmm,” Cumulus says with a smile, “so…when do you want us?”
“Let me text Copia, tell him to come down here and I’ll let you bend me over a desk right here and now.”
The ghoulettes erupt in laughter.
“Oh no, angel, we’re going to do this right. We want you in a proper bed where we can take our time with you, yeah?”
“Hmm, if you insist,” Natalie says with a pout, cocking her head to the side. “I’ll talk to him and see what works best. Soon.”
Cirrus bends down and drags the tip of her tongue along Natalie’s lower lip, making her whimper. She steps back, allowing Cumulus to step in and run her lips along the brunette’s jawline before kissing her softly.
“Can’t wait to give the Cardinal a show,” she breathes. “See you around, angel.”
“Mmhmm,” Natalie confirms, and as soon as they came in, they’re gone. Natalie sighs heavily.
Her conversation with her lover tonight should prove interesting. And she intends on showing him just how thankful she is.
—--
After the two of them converse on the matter - at great length until they’re both exhausted - Natalie collapses halfway on his chest as the two of them catch their breath. As she rolls off him, she laughs.
“I gotta be honest, love, I’m a little bit surprised.”
“Hmm?” he says, angling himself to look at her. “What do you mean?”
“This whole thing with the ghoulettes. I never thought you would ever want to uh, share me. Especially considering I have caught you on multiple occasions chastising siblings and ghouls for giving me the once-over.”
“Eh, noticed that, did you?” Copia says, cheeks flushing, “Well, I don’t know. Part of me feels bad for scooping you up before you got a chance to…explore your desires. Especially with women so…” he finishes lamely.
“Uh-huh. Very kind of you. And certainly not because you have a filthy fantasy about watching me get destroyed by two beautiful, infernal women. Surely that has nothing to do with it.”
“Amore!” Copia objects, placing a hand to his heart, “My intentions are pure!”
“Oh, of course,” Natalie smirks, rolling her eyes, “When the ghoulettes approached you, you definitely weren’t thinking about how pretty I’d look getting my titties sucked and pussy ate - my cheeks all flushed and sweaty as I moan wantonly, my eyes on you from the bed while they–”
“Enough!” Copia croaks, head falling back against the pillow. “Cazzo, are you trying to get me to cum in the sheets?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she snarks, hand drifting down to cup the length of him. “Though I’m not sure I’ve had enough of you yet, Your Eminence.”
She shifts the bedcovers, laying a line of fervent kisses down his chest.
“Again, amore?”
Natalie places several wet kisses to his belly, grinning up at him.
“Don’t say that as if you’re not enjoying every second of this. We spent almost a whole year in each other’s presence without fucking each other’s brains out. That’s a lot of time to make up for, beloved.”
He chuckles, threading his fingers through her hair as she licks a stripe up his cock.
“You’re insatiable, diavoletta mia.”
“That’s what the ghoulettes said that you said about me. As if you didn’t keep me locked in your bedroom for almost three days after the first time we made love.”
“Mmm let’s do that aga–ah!”
She’s had enough chatter, and shows him so by slipping the length of him into her eager mouth. He’s silent for only a moment, hips flexing against her, before he begins babbling praise.
“Perfetta ragazza,” he groans as Natalie’s head bobs to take him deeper, “You’re too–hnngh–good to this old man. Always knew that–ah–mouth of yours would look good like this. And that tongue, Sathanas…”
She chuckles around him, sliding off just enough to suckle the swollen head, making him moan and fist her curls. He ruts jerkily against her so she holds him down, thumbs caressing his hip bones as her tongue traces up his length.
“You’re right, you know,” he pants, “This–ah–thing with the ghoulettes? S-somewhat selfish reasons. Every time I see you with them I-I picture you in this bed, p-pleasuring each other. I trust them, trust that they will not–ah–overstep–fuck, amore!”
She’s taken him back as far as she can and swallowed around him, hand gently massaging his balls. His breath comes in sharp whines as he fights to not thrust dumbly into her, chasing his pleasure. He’s close, she can tell by the broken way he spouts his praise, so she doubles down and hollows her cheeks.
Natalie pulls off him just enough to suck on the head and, resting it on her tongue, her hand rockets up and down the wet length of him. He lifts his head up and looks into her half-lidded green eyes and with a groan his cock spasms against her tongue, spurting his seed into her open and eager mouth.
“That’s it, amore, take it,” he sighs, rutting his hips against her mouth, “Fuck, you look beautiful like this.”
Her lips wrap around his softening cock for a moment, sucking any remnants off of him before pulling off with a pop and making a big show of swallowing and sitting back on her haunches. Copia lets out a tired laugh but he’s got a glint in his eye as his gaze roves her soft, naked form.
“Get up here,” he growls, crooking a finger at her. Slowly, Natalie crawls along his body until her breasts are flush against his chest hair and she can feel his breath against her lips.
“No,” he says patiently, raising a finger to tap on his mustache, “Here.”
“Again, amore?” Natalie asks, mocking his earlier words.
“Shall I tie you up and hold you down to have my meal instead?” his hands grip at the meat of her ass, urging her upwards. “Come. Here. Now.”
Oh, how she loves when the bossy Cardinal comes out.
__
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Natalie’s naked and bent over one of the drawers she’s hijacked from Copia, rifling through various pieces of lace and silk. The man in question is leaning against the doorway to his bedroom, arms crossed as he observes her.
“What’s the fuss, amore?”
“The fuss–” she says, standing up and putting her hands on her hips, “--is I cannot figure out what I’m going to wear for this…rendezvous.”
“Eh, traditionally I think it’s done in the nude.”
She glares at him and brandishes a pale pink mesh thong in his direction.
“You know what I mean, I have to make a…a good impression. Sexy. I can’t just answer the door with my tits and coochie out like ‘hello welcome to the filth den’. I mean, come on, I agonized over what to wear when I went to seduce you too.”
“Did you?” he asks, eyebrows raised as he ambles over to her, “Ah, now that was memorable. Seeing you sitting in my chair in that pretty little virginal cream silk slip, waiting for me. Ready for me. Mmm cara, so eager–”
Abruptly he pulls Natalie backwards against his chest, fingers sliding down her belly before teasing at the heat of her.
“Copia, my love, as much as I appreciate where this is going,” she murmurs, “they’re going to be here in twenty minutes and respectfully, I’m not giving them sloppy seconds.”
“Ugh, fine,” he growls, relinquishing his grip on her. “What about that eh, dark blue silk piece you have? With the lace along the neckline? It looks so pretty with your hair.”
Huh. There’s a thought.
She bends over to do some more digging - ignoring the way Copia is insistently grinding against her ass - and locates it with a triumphant noise. She turns in his grip and kisses him firmly.
“My love, this was inspired, I–” there’s something familiar nudging against her and she looks up at him, “Don’t get excited so soon my love, I’d hate for you to uh - finish before anything even begins.”
“Ah dolcezza, I might be in my fifties but have I not proven to have the stamina of Zeus himself?”
“Zeus, huh?” Natalie says, giving him a look, “I certainly hope you don’t have his sense of fidelity, too.”
He looks affronted. It’s cute.
“Amore, you question my faithfulness? You question my devotion? I would never touch another. You, on the other hand. Oh, you were just waiting for this opportunity, weren’t you?”
He’s got an evil little grin on his face and she knows he’s trying to get a rise out of her but her lips dip down into a frown and her heart sinks.
“Copia, you know I would never…maybe this isn’t a good idea,” she sighs deeply, biting her lip as tears well in her eyes.
“Oh amore mio,” he says softly, cupping her cheeks in his hands, “I was only teasing! If you are not comfortable with this, say the word and I will end it immediatamente. Truly though, it’s okay, huh? People do eh, exploring all the time while still maintaining loyalty to a partner. And I trust both them and you. My desires are inconsequential - but allow me to give you this gift, sì?”
Natalie nods slowly.
“I love you,” she murmurs, reaching up to take his hands in hers, “So much. So much it scares me sometimes, you know? I would never, ever want to do anything that would hurt you.”
He kisses each of her hands.
“And I love you. I know you wouldn’t hurt me but if you have any uncertainty, know that I am A-OK with this. Prometto. Nothing will ever come between us but Sathanas you are going to look so lovely spread out beneath them. On top of them. Sideways, even.”
She sniffles and laughs.
“Hmm,” her eyes glaze over for a moment, “What do you think they’re going to do to me, Cope?”
“Anything. Everything. Kiss and lick and suck and fuck…they’re going to take you apart, dolcezza.”
She shivers.
“Getting me all worked up, Cardinal,” she breathes, the tip of her tongue sliding out to wet her lips.
“I would be a poor host if I did not, eh, ready the party favor, hmm?”
Stepping back with a smile, Natalie slides the midnight blue slip over her head and looks in the mirror to loosen her hair from its messy bun.
“Perfetta,” Copia whispers, watching her adjust the dark strands so they fall just right, “They will not be able to resist you.”
“And I will not offer any resistance,” she says quietly, turning away from the mirror to face her beloved. She smoothes her hands down the front of his black suit and smiles.
“I can do this,” she murmurs, those familiar butterflies back in her stomach.
“Only if you want to but yes, I believe you can,” he smiles, fussing at her hair. Abruptly, Natalie grabs him by the back of the head and slots her lips against his in an aggressive kiss that slowly turns more lazy and soft. She feels a throb from between her thighs as he whimpers when she sucks on his tongue and slowly pulls away.
“Good luck tonight,” she purrs, “Don’t give up the game too quickly, hmm?”
He laughs.
“I had plenty of solo practice drawing things out before we got together, thank you very much.”
“Oh yeah?” she says, cocking her head, “Surely you weren’t thinking of me any of those times…”
“Surely not,” he shakes his head with a smile, “Surely there was another dark haired, green eyed curator who liked to smile at me so prettily and shake her ass so tantalizingly whenever she walked in front of me in tight little skirts. That curator was always so kind to this lecherous old Cardinal. Mmm she was so sweet and soft and–eh, what were we talking about?”
“How you used to shamelessly jack off after staring at my ass?”
“No, no, that was the other curator–”
Natalie rolls her eyes and reaches her hand down to cup his bulge, making him whine and buck into her touch.
“Easy, dolcezza, easy…I am in a fragile state.”
“‘Fragile state’ my ass,” she grins, “I’ve seen you roll off of me and not ten minutes later hop back on like I’m a pony at a state fair.”
“Ah, not entirely accurate,” he says, lifting a pedantic finger, “You are slightly nicer looking than a pony.”
Natalie slaps his balls sharply, causing him to double over with a yelp.
“Just for that, I’m definitely going to leave you for a ghoulette now. Maybe a ghoul too. Who knows?”
“Amore!” he wheeze-laughs, comically cupping himself, “Be sweet to me, huh? I might not survive tonight after watching what they do with you…”
“Povera mia,” she croons, “To be fair, I might not survive, myself. I–”
Three knocks sound at the door to Copia’s quarters and Natalie exhales heavily.
“Do you want me to–”
“Yeah,” she nods, walking over to the bed and lowering herself to sit on the end, facing the doorway. Her heart thuds in her chest as she watches her beloved amble over to the door and open it, smiling when she hears his familiar odd little noises as he stands aside and gestures for their guests to come in. When the ghoulettes step through the threshold Natalie’s breath catches in her throat. It’s not exactly that she’d forgotten how beautiful they both are but Sathanas it continuously takes her by surprise. They’re both wearing casual clothing - Cirrus in a large t-shirt and basketball shorts and Cumulus in a floral robe - and an anxious laugh bleats out of Natalie before she can smother it. Cumulus is preoccupied with saying something to Copia but Cirrus hears it and gives Natalie a sly grin and a cocked brow. When Copia extends his arm to gesture towards her, Natalie’s heart plummets into her stomach.
“He–” her voice comes out thick and croaky, “Hey, you two. P-please, come in.”
Cumulus favors Natalie with a soft, reassuring smile as she comes to sit next to her. Cirrus plops down on the other side, a hand pushing into the plush red duvet.
“Nice place,” she says, looking around the paneled room, “Really elegant.”
“Not my place,” Natalie admits sheepishly, “This is all him.” She points to Copia, who is busy settling into the high backed chair in the corner of the room. He smiles.
“Don’t let her fool you, her room is just as nice. Lots of blues. You’d like it, Cumulus.”
The aforementioned ghoulette laughs quietly, and when she reaches up a hand to brush Natalie’s hair off her shoulder Natalie wants to kick herself for the way she jumps.
“Nervous, angel?” Cirrus asks, flopping backwards onto the bed and letting her fingers dance at the small of Natalie’s back. Natalie laughs, too loud.
“Y-yeah. Yeah I’m really fucking nervous.”
“What part are you nervous about, sweetheart?” Cumulus asks, shifting her body to face the short woman beside her.
“Uh…everything? The fact that I’ve never been with anyone but Copia, the fact that I’m committing physical infidelity, the fact that you two are so goddamn beautiful, the fact that the man I love is going to be watching…take your pick.”
“Amore, if my presence is causing you any grief I would be happy to le–”
“No,” Natalie says quickly, and she hates the panic in her voice, “No. Please, I need you here. You know how I am, it’s the anxiety. I want to do this for you.”
“For yourself too, I hope,” Cirrus comments from her spot behind her, “Unless we’ve been misreading the vibes…?”
“No. Not at all. The vibes are…absolutely there. Incredibly there, in fact. I-I want this,” Natalie looks over to Cumulus, “I want you. Both.”
“Atta girl,” Cirrus purrs and Natalie doesn't even have to look at her to know she’s got a filthy grin curling her lips, “Come on, angel. We’ll put on a good show for the Cardinal.”
Natalie looks over at Copia, the rapid rise and fall of his chest from the promises of what lies ahead making her ache. Cirrus stands, taking off her shirt in a smooth motion and tossing it to the floor.
“C’mon,” she says, shimmying her shorts and underwear off and climbing onto the bed, “Get over here.”
Cumulus snorts as she gets up and Natalie turns, crawling towards Cirrus who is resting against the pillows. When she settles in next to her she finally gets a good look at her - all long legs and rounded hips and dusky nipples. Natalie knows she’s breathing too loud and then out of the corner of her eye she sees Cumulus drop her robe. Cirrus’ chuckle at the whine that comes out of Natalie fans her hair, which she idly twirls between her fingers.
“Perfect, isn’t she?” Cirrus asks, looking over at the other ghoulette. Natalie nods. Perfect is an understatement. A rounded belly, large, lush breasts and generous thighs between which are nestled a thatch of white curls. Her tail waves lazily behind her as she uses her hands to trace the path of Natalie’s gaze. She approaches the other side of the bed and slides in behind Natalie.
“This is pretty,” Cumulus comments, fingers brushing the hem of Natalie’s blue slip, “Keep it on for a little longer, hmm? I like the way it looks on you.”
Natalie nods dumbly and shifts to lie on her back. When she does, she catches a glimpse of Copia in the corner. His hand rests in his lap, fingers twitching towards his bulge but he doesn’t touch himself. Not yet. His eyes gleam at her. She’s got her hands folded on her belly trying desperately not to gawk at either of the beautiful, nude women she’s sandwiched in between.
“Can we touch you?” Cirrus murmurs, ghosting a hand over her.
“Please. Please.”
She smiles and when she lowers her hand to brush against Natalie’s own, Natalie lets out a deep exhale. All Cirrus is doing is letting her fingertips glide along the backs of her hands, but it makes her dizzy. When Cumulus reaches down to brush along Natalie’s thigh, her breath hitches in her throat.
“So sensitive,” Cumulus breathes, dragging her fingers up and over Natalie’s hip to cradle the soft curve of her belly. She had almost forgotten how the two of them sport a cooling touch - something that comes rocketing back when she feels the almost painful tautness of her nipples. Judging from the low noise that comes out of Cirrus, she’s noticed it too.
“Mmm, pretty little thing,” she purrs, reaching a hand to cup Natalie’s breast and thumb her nipple through the fabric, “Already so excited for us, ‘Lus.”
“Sure is,” Cumulus agrees, her lips tracing the shell of Nataie’s ear, “Tell us what you want, angel.”
“K-kiss me. Please.”
“Begs pretty, too,” Cirrus chuckles, “Can’t wait to hear more of that later when I’m making you see stars. Go on, ‘Lus. You’re the one who couldn’t stop talking about her lips.”
Natalie’s head turns slightly to face the shorter ghoulette, stomach swooping when Cumulus leans in and blows against her lips. She shivers comically and with a smile Cumulus reaches a hand up to cup her cheek.
“Ready?” she asks, so softly only Natalie can hear. She nods. When she leans in to capture her lips with hers, Natalie feels as if a dam has broken inside her. All her previous hesitation is gone as she buries her fingers into Cumulus’ white curls and pulls her towards her, tongue dancing with hers. Cumulus is just as decadent about it as she remembers from that day in the archives, soft and yielding as they whimper into each other’s mouths. Natalie’s vaguely aware of Cirrus breathing a curse next to her as Cumulus drapes her body halfway onto hers, hands kneading flesh through fabric. And speaking of fabric–
“This has to come off. Now.” Cumulus groans while pulling away for breath. She’s got one hand gripping the hem of Natalie’s slip and eagerly shimmying it off her body, pausing to let her lift her hips and sit up to expedite its removal. When the offending garment is finally off, Cumulus skillfully tosses it over to Copia, who catches it with a gasp. Natalie sees him press the silk to his cheek, savoring the remnants of warmth from her body and the sight makes her feral.
“Well, well, well, look at you,” Cirrus breathes with a small laugh, “Just as soft and lovely as we always knew you would be, right ‘Lus?”
Natalie doesn’t wait to hear Cumulus’ answer before lunging upwards and slotting her lips against Cirrus’. The taller ghoulette is shocked for only a moment before gripping her thigh and hitching it up on her hip. Where Cumulus’ kiss felt like a dance, Cirrus’ feels like a domination and one Natalie is more than happy to yield to. Teeth chase tongues and when Cirrus’ claws bite into the meat of Natalie’s waist, she whines into her mouth. When she pulls away Natalie pursues her but Cirrus pushes her down into the mattress.
“The Cardinal was right about you,” she grins, “Filthy little thing.”
“If you’re this eager for him, I understand him keeping you from the ghouls,” Cumulus murmurs, “Lucky he likes us best. Shame for the boys, but we’re perfectly fine keeping you all to ourselves.”
“Poor Aether,” Cirrus laughs, “Wants you so bad and can’t have you. We promise we won’t be mean and tell him anything about tonight. Much.”
Natalie’s head is spinning with arousal, the thought of the ghoulettes tormenting the strong ghoul with sordid details about bedding her causing her clit to throb. Before she can linger on it any further, Cumulus drags her tongue over Natalie’s clavicle, making her shiver. As if coordinated, both ghoulettes slide down her body until their breath ghosts over her nipples. Natalie’s cheeks are hot as Cirrus flicks the tip of her tongue out to graze one. Teasingly she drags the muscle around Natalie’s areola, avoiding where she wants her most and making her whimper pathetically.
“Don’t be cruel, Cir,” Cumulus chastises, placing soft, sucking kisses into the meat of Natalie’s breast.
“Wanna hear how pretty she begs for me,” Cirrus says, smoothing a hand over the curve of Natalie’s belly, “Come on angel, tell me what you want.”
“Suck my tits,” Natalie ekes out and Cirrus laughs.
“Oh, the Cardinal’s delicate flower knows how to be direct. I like that,” she pulls back slightly and turns her head to address Copia, “She always this good for you?”
“Better,” Natalie hears Copia rasp and another throb thrums from between her legs.
“Well,” she says, turning her attention back to Natalie’s breast, “Good girls always get what they ask for, right ‘Lus?”
“Then quit talking and fucking give it to me already,” Natalie grits out. Cumulus lets out a delighted noise and Cirrus’ claws bite into Natalie’s flesh before she drags the flat of her tongue over her hardened nipple. When she finally wraps her lips around the bud and sucks, Natalie’s hand flies to the back of her head. She’s vicious with her attentions, nipping with sharp canines - Cumulus on the other hand returns to sucking bruises into Natalie’s other breast, her hand drifting further south. When she firmly cups Natalie’s mound in her palm a sigh escapes her.
“So good,” she murmurs, stroking Cirrus’ dark hair. The tall ghoulette pulls off Natalie with a pop and gives her a grin. Gently, Natalie urges Cumulus back up to face her so she can slide her lips against hers, Natalie’s hand kneading her breast.
“She likes that,” Cirrus breathes, “Loves having her tits played with.”
Natalie moans into Cumulus’ mouth before pulling back for breath. With a firm shove she pushes the shorter ghoulette flat on her back, dragging her tongue down her sternum. As soon as Natalie’s lips make contact with her nipple she lets out a whine that goes straight to Natalie’s cunt. She laps eagerly, rolling Cumulus’ other bud between her fingers as Cirrus settles in behind her to place wet kisses on Natalie’s shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye Natalie sees Copia with his cock in his gloved hand, panting as he stares at her. She’s filled with affection and, with an immense desire to put on a good show for him, Natalie sits up and swings her leg over Cumulus to straddle her. Cirrus falls on her back, clapping as Natalie lowers her mouth to sloppily kiss Cumulus.
“Mmm, initiative,” Cirrus purrs, sitting up and delivering a sharp, pleasurable slap to Natalie’s ass that jolts her forward, “We like that. Keep going, girls. I’ll be back.”
Natalie pulls away and grasps for Cirrus, who slides off the bed and reaches for a bag she hadn’t seen either of them come in with. Before she can see what Cirrus pulls out, Cumulus grabs the back of her head and pulls her down to where she can drag her teeth along her throat. Her claws scrape at her scalp and Natalie delightedly lets her tug her where she wants her. Something about the way her belly presses against Natalie’s makes her flush from head to toe. She feels…decadent. Hedonistic. It’s intoxicating and she wants nothing more than to show the ghoulette beneath her exactly how good she’s making her feel.
“I know that look,” Cirrus says with a grin, “Go on, angel. Make her sing for you.”
I’m going to make you sing, bellezza.
Instantly, Natalie’s taken back to her first night with Copia and she lets out a breathy laugh before looking down at Cumulus, who gazes up at her with pupils blown.
“I’ve never done this before,” she murmurs and Cumulus smiles.
“You’re more familiar with the terrain than you realize. I’ll tell you what feels good, okay?”
Natalie nods and slowly begins to maneuver herself down the ghoulette’s body, kissing and licking every inch of skin available to her. When she settles between her spread thighs and places a kiss to her mound, Cumulus lets out a soft sigh. Delicately, Natalie uses her thumbs to spread her open and immediately begins salivating when she sees how deliciously wet Cumulus is. The ghoulette twitches when Natalie’s heavy exhale ghosts over her cunt.
“Go on, pretty girl,” she hears Cirrus say encouragingly from behind her, her hands smoothing over Natalie’s hips. “I’ve got something real special for you.”
As Natalie’s lips make contact with Cumulus’ slick folds she gasps. Behind her, Cirrus drags the head of what Natalie assumes is a silicone cock through her own folds, causing her to arch her back. When Natalie pulls away to look back at her Cirrus chides her.
“Keep your eyes on the prize, angel. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”
Well. Natalie doesn’t need telling twice.
With as much fervor as Natalie kissed Cumulus, she slides her lips and tongue over her folds, delighting in the way her hand flies to Natalie’s hair. Cumulus is right, of course, Natalie’s familiar with the general terrain and when the tip of her tongue grazes her swollen clit, she gasps her name. From behind her, Natalie feels the head of the cock drag through her folds again and gently, Cirrus eases the thick tip inside her. Natalie whines into Cumulus’ cunt, hungry for more, but Cirrus holds her hips steady to keep her from bucking backwards.
“Sweet–ah–sweet Aether…used his quintessence on this strap, you know that? Makes it feel like it’s actually a part of me. Poor ghoul had n-no idea who it was going to be used on. Keep going, angel. Want to see you t-take her apart.”
Panting and desperate for Cirrus to fill her up, Natalie lowers her mouth again to lap up Cumulus’ slick. When her tongue eases inside her, Cumulus lets out a loud, long moan.
“Good girl,” Cirrus breathes, “G-good–fuck.”
Fuck is right. With agonizing slowness Cirrus pushes the strap in and Natalie’s jaw hangs open at the stretch. Copia is nothing to sneeze at, and he’s thick too, but this she feels in her guts. Natalie’s arms wobble as they struggle to hold her up and when Cirrus bottoms out with a groan she lets out a pathetic whimper.
“H-how does she feel, Cir?”
Natalie can hear Cirrus panting roughly behind her, hands smoothing over her ass.
“Unholy fucking hell, ‘Lus, hot and wet and t-tight, fuck. I–”
Natalie squeezes around her as hard as she can and Cirrus cuts off with a sharp gasp and a broken moan. When Natalie cranes her head to look at her over her shoulder, she gives the tall ghoulette a grin and Cirrus lets out a breathy laugh.
“Oh Cardinal, she’s wicked.”
Natalie hears Copia let out a low chuckle from behind her and it makes her cunt spasm around Cirrus.
“Finish your task, angel,” Cirrus coos and Natalie glances up at Cumulus who looks down at her and wets her lips. Feeling deliciously full of both Cirrus’ cock and renewed fervor, Natalie lowers her head and slowly drags her tongue though her folds.
“That’s it,” Cirrus murmurs, slowly pulling out of Natalie then pushing back in, “C’mon baby, show her how much you like her.”
So she does.
Natalie’s got her hands wrapped around Cumulus’ generous thighs, fingers digging hard enough to bruise as she alternates between fucking her with her tongue and circling her clit. Cirrus’ thrusts are deep and forceful, pumping in and out of Natalie while streams of filth slide out of her mouth.
“That’s it, honey,” Cumulus whimpers from above Natalie, burying her fingers in her hair and bucking her hips against her mouth, “So good for me, right there, right–fuck!”
Her praise ceases as Natalie wraps her lips around her clit and sucks. Cirrus moans and her pace quickens, fucking into Natalie with less and less abandon. From behind her she hears a strangled Natalia mia and she knows that Copia is close. The visual of his gloved hand wetly sliding along his cock, the taste of Cumulus beneath her, and the mounting pressure of Cirrus’ cock inside her make Natalie feel like she’s going insane. Her moans are muffled, mouth thoroughly occupied with suckling at Cumulus’ swollen clit while Cumulus cries out above her.
“Please, please, please,” Cumulus whines, “So close, so fucking close honey, don’t stop!”
Natalie doubles down and takes a page from Copia’s playbook, taking a finger and teasing at her entrance. Slowly, she sinks it in knuckle deep and crooks it searching for that sweet spot. When Cumulus screams her name she knows she’s found it, delighting in the way Cumulus’ cunt clenches around her. When she shatters, she pulls Natalie’s hair hard enough to hurt but the dark haired woman doesn’t care, not with the way she whimpers her name like a prayer. The sounds she makes only inflame Natalie’s passion further and she wants nothing more than to wrench another orgasm out of Cumulus but suddenly she’s pushing her away. Taking the hint Natalie pulls back and Cirrus’ hand wraps around her shoulder.
“My turn,” Cirrus snarls, yanking Natalie towards her and causing her back to arch. Her steady thrusts become sharper, harder, as she pounds into Natalie and makes her see stars. Wrapping her hand around her throat she pulls Natalie’s back flush against her.
“Look at him,” she growls, her breath hot in Natalie’s ear, “Look at what you do to him.”
Natalie turns her head to look at her beloved and a gasp hiccups out of her throat. He’s hunched in on himself, gazing up at her with his paints streaked down his face and his mouth hung open in a moan. His hand squeezes at his reddened, leaking cock, hips fucking upwards into his fist. Cirrus holds Natalie in place, her hand seeking her sweat-slick breast to pinch sharply at Natalie’s nipple as she fucks ruthlessly into her. Natalie cries out, pushing backwards to meet her thrusts.
“I know you’re close, angel,” Cirrus groans, hips jackhammering into Natalie hard and fast enough she can’t catch her breath, “Mmm fuck gonna–ah–gonna fill this pretty little cunt up. Gonna–ah-ah-fuck, baby!”
“Give it to me, Cir,” Natalie whines, “Just like that, j–Copia!”
She cums with a cry, watching as Copia spasms, painting his fist and chest with rope upon rope of his seed. Behind Natalie, Cirrus thrusts three times more before Natalie feels her fill her up. She’s trembling in Cirrus’ tight grip as she empties herself into her, her forehead pressed against Natalie’s shoulder. Copia is looking at her with nothing but pure adoration as she struggles to catch her breath. A silence settles among the four of them and Natalie breaks Copia’s gaze to look down at Cumulus.
“Beautiful,” the shorter ghoulette breathes with a wide smile, “Fucking beautiful. Look at you.”
Natalie lets out a short, delirious laugh and Cirrus mouths weakly at her shoulder.
“You were perfect,” she murmurs into Natalie’s ear, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, “Just like we knew you’d be. Wasn’t she, Cardinal?”
Copia’s head is tipped back against the chair, eyes trained on the ceiling.
“She always is. Always. Amata mia.”
Gently, Cirrus extricates herself from Natalie and the slide of the rigid silicone dildo as it exits her cunt makes Natalie gasp. Weakly, she crawls forwards to Cumulus’ embrace and collapses next to her. Cirrus follows after a moment, slipping in beside Natalie.
“So, how was it?”
Natalie’s gaze lingers on the canopy above her and she tips her head to lean against Cumulus.
“Wow,” she says with a dazed smile, “Women, huh?”
Cirrus barks out a laugh. Natalie feels her eyelids get heavy as she watches Copia get up and go into the bathroom.
“Don’t fall asleep on us,” Cumulus nudges her, “We’re not done with you yet.”
Natalie whines but she can’t deny the delicious ache coming from between her thighs.
“I’m gonna need a snack, then,” she says with a sigh.
“Anything you want, bellezza,” Copia says, returning to the bedroom, half cleaned up, “I am your servant.”
Hmm. Now that’s a thought.
“Bring me some grapes, a bag of chips, and a pint of ice cream and I’ll show the girls how pretty I look when I bounce on your cock, huh?”
Cumulus lets out a soft gasp and Cirrus’ eyebrows shoot up.
“What flavor?” Copia rasps out, reaching down to adjust the bulge in his pants.
Tags: panty stealing, panty sniffing, pillow humping, first date, champagne consumption, dry humping, grinding, possessiveness, copia being a little sex freak as per usual, tenderness as per usual
Words: 5,767
Summary: When he asked Natalie on her first real date with him, this is not the outcome she anticipated.
a/n: let's hear it for [AIRHORNS] DRY HUMPINGGGGGGG
~~~
He shouldn’t have done this.
That’s the thought running rampant on repeat in his mind as he lays in his bed, staring at the illicit goods in his hand. He’s filled with shame at committing such a violation of her privacy and yet…he turns the piece of black mesh over in his grip, relishing the way the fabric feels sliding against his bare knuckles. He heaves a sigh - he’s dragging this out because he’s scared what will come to pass once he does what he’s longed to do all afternoon. It’s been balled up in his pocket all day, Natalie completely unaware beside him on the couch and in the dining hall as he surreptitiously fingered it.
It was an impulse theft from when she was in the bathroom post-nap fixing her hair and he was left to his own devices in her bedroom. He saw the hamper tucked away in a corner and he swore that in that moment his heart stopped. He could hear Natalie humming something familiar as he skittered over to the basket, reaching a hand in to flick through her dirty laundry. Under a t-shirt he found it. His prize. His breath caught in his throat and somewhere in the back of his mind he realized she was softly singing “He Is” in the other room. He snatched it up in a moment of impulse and almost doubled over in shame but before he allowed himself to fully process the feeling and put her underwear back, he shoved it deep into his pocket. Natalie emerged a moment later, smiling and ignorant of his crime, and grabbed him by the hand to tug him towards the couch. There she spent the rest of the afternoon curled into his side watching paranormal shows while his eyes stared forward but his mind was chaotic. He’s more ashamed of the way he ignored her for the rest of the evening, even as the two of them sat across from one another at their table in the dining hall. She had finally stopped trying to engage with him but by then the damage was done. He could practically feel the anxiety radiating off of her as she kissed his cheek with a quiet “goodnight” before leaving him standing there with only the static of his busy mind for company. By the time he called out her name in the empty cloister she was long gone and guilt sat heavy in his stomach. He shuffled back to his rooms and disrobed mechanically. When he saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror he jumped - he was so distracted by his little secret he didn’t even bother to reapply his paints before he went to dinner with her. He turned off the faucet with a sigh and slumped out of the bathroom to plug his phone in. Climbed into bed and now here he is.
He wants to text Natalie, to apologize for his horrible, neglectful behavior but it feels even more shameful when he’s holding a very private part of her captive without her knowledge. He takes a deep breath - in, out, in, out, in - then raises his fist to his face. He feels like he’s been punched in the gut as he curls onto his side, the tantalizing scrap of fabric with her scent pressed against his nose. She smells…cazzo, he doesn’t know how to properly describe it in this state…earthy and feminine and hypnotic. Dirty. His cock throbs against his sleep pants, aching for contact. Normally he’d take himself in hand and get the job done but he knows it’s not going to be enough. Sitting up he reaches behind himself to grab a pillow and swings his leg over to straddle it. It’s too late to strip himself fully so instead he yanks down his sleep pants until his cock springs forward, bobbing in front of him with pre smeared down the shaft.
“Amata mia,” he groans as he spreads his thighs and lowers himself. He brings her smell back to his nose and his hips jolt forward, cock sliding across the cushion and leaving a damp drag mark on the red pillowcase. As he begins to rut against it he falls forward and plants a fist into the mattress to steady himself. He imagines it’s her beneath him, her pliant flesh and her tight wetness he’s fucking into. The thought makes his mouth hang open, drool pooling in his jaw and threatening to spill over onto his bed.
“Nnngh bellezza mia,” he grunts, hips picking up a frantic pace as he humps desperately into the pillow, “So soft a-and willing for me. How you t-tease your Cardinal. Soon I’ll h-have you. I’ll–ah–ruin you, amore mio. P-piccola vergine mia.”
The bed creaks beneath him from the force of his thrusts, his fist flying from the mattress to grip the headboard. He’s close and his rhythm is becoming sloppy as the strings of his self control are slowly cut away. He can almost hear Natalie’s voice speaking to him so sweetly - yes Copia, please, fuck, don’t stop - and for a final time he raises the gusset of her underwear to his nose as he hears her say it–
I love you.
He cums with a hoarse moan, painting the pillowcase and mattress with ropes of his seed, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. His hips don’t still afterwards, continuing to rock against the cushion desperate to wring out the last dregs of his orgasm. By the time he forces himself to stop, tears are dropping onto the pillow to mix with his mess and he sniffles miserably in the silent room. You fool, his brain hisses, risking everything to get yourself off. She must hate you now - must be sitting in her room wondering why she ever wasted a moment of her time and energy on you. The last part makes him sob aloud, doubling over on himself before angrily tearing the pillow out from under him and flinging it to the rug. He doesn’t bother to clean up his mess, instead choosing to curl into a fetal position. His hand twitches with the desire to grab his phone and call her, text her, anything to explain himself but instead he heaves a shuddering sigh.
Why bother, he thinks to himself, messily wiping his snot with the back of his hand, she deserves better anyway.
—
Natalie’s sitting on the edge of her bed in her pajamas with her phone in her hand, cursor in the text box flashing up at her tauntingly. She could settle this in a matter of seconds if she really wanted to. But does she want to? Does she really want to know about how he’s changed his mind about her, how he regrets ever bending to her annoying little advances? The thought makes her gut roil with nausea and she blindly sets her phone back on the nightstand and flops backyards onto the duvet, running through everything she said to him today. He was fine up until…up until after their nap. After he had time to ruminate on her confession of love. Numbly she sits back up and finagles herself under the covers, feeling embarrassed, hurt, and…angry? She’s never been angry at Copia, never thought she could be but the blank look on his face as he sat in silence for the entirety of their meal that night while she chattered away makes something raw burn in her belly. Every moment between the two of them since last night has happened at her insistence. Every conversation, every confession, every action. What if this was just a game to him? What if she was just a conquest he could lord above Terzo, finally succeeding where the Papa had failed? What if Terzo–
Stop.
Fucking stop.
Natalie reaches behind her and bends the edges of her pillow up against her ears in an attempt to muffle the din in her brain. Copia would never. He would never purposely hurt her. She thinks of the raw expression on his bare face as she told him of her love, the tenderness in his voice when he spoke of his. Shame floods her, sick to her stomach that she could ever think such a thing of her beloved. That’s not the man she’s gotten to know over almost an entire year. Something might have been bothering him tonight but it wasn’t her. She turns over and grabs her phone, opening her texts.
Hey - you seemed distant tonight, is everything okay? Love you
She sets the phone down and hesitates before reaching for the prescription bottle. Might as well, not going to fall asleep like this. Swallowing the pill with the room temperature water on her nightstand she looks hopefully at her phone, willing it to light up. When it stays dark, she inhales a deep sigh before falling back into her pillows. There’s a smoky smell lingering on them, warm and animalic, and she realizes it’s him. Natalie drags the pillow he slept on today towards her and breathes in, relishing the scent of his cologne and his hair pomade. It makes her heart so full and she can’t bring herself to pull away so she curls herself into it, letting the rise and fall of her chest lull her to sleep.
She has strange dreams where she’s dancing with a black goat with mismatched eyes.
She does not remember them upon waking.
—
When Copia wakes up at a miserable hour he feels like absolute dogshit. He abandoned his remaining pillow some time in the night and now finds himself curled on his side on the mattress, dick out with a pounding headache. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but judging from the lingering damp stains on his sheets he most certainly cried until he passed out.
“Cazzo,” he groans, putting his palms to his face and rubbing it roughly. He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, angling his hips to finally tuck himself away and restore even a small bit of his dignity. He looks at the stained pillow on the floor and his headache worsens.
“Fottuto idiota,” he growls, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s about to get up and throw his exhausted body into the shower when he spies his phone out of the corner of his eye. He hesitates for a moment before reaching for it. When he sees a notification on his lockscreen - from her - his heart rockets into his throat. Hands shaking he opens his messages, nauseous at what he might see.
Hey - you seemed distant tonight, is everything okay? Love you
Love you. Love you. She still loves you.
He hops out of bed, overjoyed and types out, then deletes at least a dozen different messages to her. When none of them prove satisfactory he throws his phone down on the bed and stumbles over to his closet. He said he was going to woo her, damn it all, and he intends to follow through. He selects a freshly laundered cassock - red, he knows it’s Natalie’s favorite - and tosses it on the bed. His mind is abuzz with all the tasks he needs to accomplish but first - a nice long, scalding hot shower.
—
She’s tucked away in her bed - her warm, soft, wonderful bed - when she hears a noise somewhere in the back of her consciousness. One of her eyes cracks open, views the blurry surroundings, and immediately slides closed again.
Then she hears it again. It’s louder. More insistent.
Natalie groans and rolls onto her back, opening both eyes against her will to stare at the beams above her. She’s about to roll back over when she hears it again and realizes it’s knocking. At her door. With furrowed brows she turns over to squint at her bedside clock - now who the fuck–
She shoots up so fast it makes her dizzy and flings the covers back, her heart pounding. It has to be him right? She’s making her way to the door, bedhead be damned, and she swears if she opens it and Terzo’s idiotic face is on the other side she’s going to deck him. By the time she makes it to her destination, the person on the other side begins knocking sharply again but she swings the door open midway through their progress.
It’s him, like she knew it would be.
And he looks magnificent.
He’s in his red cassock, matching biretta perched neatly on his still damp hair and holding one hand behind his back. When he sees her, his shoulders straighten and he bows.
“Natalia mia, please, please forgive me for my behavior last night. I–”
She doesn’t even give him a chance to finish his explanation, throwing her arms around him and pulling him close.
“It’s okay,” she says, voice muffled by the wool of his pellegrina.
“Amore, no it’s not. I was so caught up in my own head that I-I didn’t treat you like you deserve. I am a poor excuse for a paramour, eh? Not even the first full day and I’ve already fucked it up.”
“I can’t lie, I was a wreck last night,” Natalie confesses as she pulls away, rubbing her eyes, “Your brain isn’t the only one too full. I had almost convinced myself of some really horrible shit.”
His smile drops and his brows knit together as he cups her cheek gently.
“I’m so sorry, dolcezza. Next time I’ll tell you when I’m preoccupied, but know that my love for you will never be the source of my grief.”
She leans up and pecks him on the lips before gesturing behind him.
“What’s this?”
“Ah,” Copia brings his arm forward and produces a bouquet of beautifully vivid orange roses tied up with twine, “For my amore.”
“Copia!” she gasps, accepting the blooms from him, “These are my favorite how did you…?”
“Primo told me,” he says with a smile, following her into her apartment as she pads over to the kitchen, “Said he’d been growing them in his greenhouse ‘just in case’ we uh…” He trails off, blushing as Natalie pulls a vase out of a cabinet.
“I think the Papas might have been looking forward to us getting together more than we did at this point,” she laughs, filling the glass with water and placing the roses inside. The fragrance coming off them is heady and lovely. She puts her hands on her hips and gives Copia a wide smile.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure? Or was this gorgeous display–,” she gestures at his neatly pressed cassock and the flowers, “--just your way of saying sorry? Wouldn’t mind you slipping up a little more often if these are the rewards I receive.”
His brows furrow and he glances at the floor.
“Hey, hey, hey,” she says, moving over to him and placing her hands on his biceps, “I’m sorry, you know me and my stupid jokes. You’re good. We’re good.”
He raises his downcast eyes to look at her and she wants to melt into a puddle at the pure adoration she sees there. Like a Satanic puppy dog with heterochromia, a slight build and a nice ass. His little smile when he finally speaks makes her smile.
“I, eh, did have another reason to see you so early in the morning, cara,” he reaches up with a gloved hand and gently tames her flyaways, “I wanted to ask you on a…a date.”
Natalie wraps her arms around his waist and leans forward, placing her chin on his chest.
“Mmm what did you have in mind, Cardinal?”
Not missing a beat his crows feet scrunch and he cradles her head in his hands, using his thumbs to brush at her temples.
“Dinner - in the village? I know a place.”
“Oooh…a night out on the town…”
He snorts, “I don’t think that sleepy little hamlet even counts as a town but it’s the closest we’ve got.”
“Hmm…an excuse to get dressed up and show you off? How could I refuse?”
He rolls his eyes and scoffs at her statement while she grins up at him.
“What time do you want me?”
The phrase comes out of her mouth so casually, she forgets its double meaning until she sees him swallow thickly and flush.
“H-how about 7? On Friday?”
“On New Years’ Eve?” Natalie shrugs, “Sure, and maybe you can come over afterwards to watch the ball drop or whatever. I’ve got another bottle of that chianti you like. Or maybe I’ll hunt down a bottle of champagne. I’ve never had anyone to kiss at midnight before.”
His eyes go a bit glassy and he looks over her shoulder as if considering something. Finally he nods to himself and meets her gaze once more.
“Sì, sì, that would be lovely.”
“It’s a date,” she says, unwinding her arms from around his body and scrunching her nose at him.
“I, uh…have some things to attend to today. I’ll text you later, sì?”
She shrugs, secretly appreciative of the fact that he’s letting her return to her (now undoubtedly cold) bed.
“Mmhmm. Thank you for the flowers, my love. They’re perfect. And…if you want to talk about what was bothering you, you know I’m always here.”
He blanches and she looks at him curiously before placing a soft kiss on his lips.
“G-grazie, Natalia. I will, eh, keep that in mind.”
Turning on his heel he strides to the door and she follows him, watching as he departs. A few steps down the hall, he turns and gives her a weird little wave before pausing and continuing back down his path. Natalie snorts and shuts the door with a sigh, looking over at the flowers he brought her. And to think last night she was convinced he hated her. Making a noise of contentment and yawning wide, she shuffles back to bed.
—
Standing in the entry hall, he fusses with his cuffs and straightens his suit jacket. It’s…tighter than what he’s accustomed to. Particularly in the lower half. He growls as he reaches down to adjust himself, cursing Terzo and Terzo’s tailor. You look good, fratello! It really highlights your attributes, huh? Idiota. He cuts a svelte figure in the snug black fabric, true, but all he really cares about is that she will like it. Every once in a while a sibling passes by and stares at him. She’s not late by any means but still he taps his foot impatiently against the marble, filled with nervous energy. When he reaches up to smooth his mustache he hears it - a thump and a soft “fuck!” coming from nearby. He would know that foul mouth anywhere and he straightens his posture and places his hands behind his back.
He’s not ready for what he sees when she rounds the corner.
Natalie’s swathed in rich, burgundy velvet, the fabric clinging to her every dip and curve. The straps are thin and the hemline is short - tantalizingly short, he can see quite a good amount of her colorful thigh tattoo. Gold stilettos are on her feet - he suspects the cause of the swearing earlier - and her dark curls are soft and loose. He knows he looks like a fucking fool, mouth hanging open as she approaches but how could he look any other way when she stands before him looking like that. He doesn’t notice the way her eyes widen at his outfit, gaze lingering on his thighs and between his legs. As she steps closer he sees the light glinting off his Yule gift, resting prettily on her clavicle. The sight makes him hungry.
“Copia, wow,” Natalie breathes, giving him another slow once-over, “Damn you look good.”
He’s jolted from the string of filth running through his mind by her assessment.
“Me? Dolcezza, you. You look…”
He knows the word he wants to use as his hands rest on her hips and before he can think better of it, it comes out.
“Delicious.”
The look on her face is well worth the bold step. Her painted lips part, eyes flicking over his features as he rubs circles with his gloved thumbs into her sides. She lets out a breathy little laugh, placing her palms flat on his pectorals.
“Take me to dinner?” she asks, the lights in the hall glinting off her lip gloss. He nods.
“Eh…yes. Gladly. Shall we?”
He relinquishes his grip on her and steps back, offering her an arm which she takes with a smile.
“Won’t you be cold, amore?” he asks, stopping mid stride. Natalie grins and grabs his arm, wrapping it around her waist nice and snug.
“When I’ve got you to keep me warm? Perish the thought.”
How he longs to feel the softness of her dress under his bare fingertips, and the pliant flesh underneath. For now he settles for holding her fast against him as the two of them exit the front doors and head to his ride. He rarely takes her out these days - too many responsibilities at the abbey - but he always has a ghoul make sure she’s in pristine condition when he can’t get to her. She’s in one of the garages and he motions for Natalie to wait at the steps so she doesn’t have to make the treacherous walk in heels through gravel.
“Eh, I’ll be back in a jiffy,” he says before jogging off, fishing the keys out of the clever little pocket Terzo’s tailor sewed into the jacket. Unlocking the driver side door he slides in, praying to Satan she starts. She does, and she still purrs like a dream much to his satisfaction. Carefully, he pulls out and around to the driveway where Natalie is waiting with a grin on her face. When he reaches her spot he puts the car in park and hustles out of his side over to the passenger door.
“Copia,” she says, giving both him and the car the once-over, “You continue to surprise me every day. A classic car?”
He shrugs, blushing as he opens the door for her and places his hand on the small of her back to usher her inside. When she’s seated and buckled he returns to the driver side and slides in next to her.
“Tell me about her,” Nataile murmurs, running her hands over the upholstery as he pulls out of the front gates.
“She’s eh, a 1968 Buick LeSabre,” he begins, heading down the dark road. It’s starting to drizzle.
“I don’t know shit about cars,” she says, smiling sheepishly at him, “But I love a good classic car. They have so much more character. Way sexier. I mean, who is imagining getting railed in the back of a Corolla?”
That makes him almost swerve off the road.
“You…you think about…”
“Well I do now,” there’s a slyness in her voice that makes his pants tighten and he’s thankful for the darkness masking him. She’s got her arm resting on the back of the seat, fluttering her eyelashes at him. Oh, how he’d love to pull off the road and have her in the backseat. Make a mess of the leather and fog up the windows, her shapely calves on his shoulders. His window starts to become cloudy and he realizes he’s mouthbreathing and she’s watching him very carefully. He needs to change the subject fast, or this date is going to be over before it even officially starts.
“H-have you been into the village much?”
She’s stopped looking at him and turns her body to stare out the windshield, but a smile still lingers on her lips.
“Honestly? Only once and that was just to wander around. It’s so easy to rely on the abbey to provide everything, you kind of forget the outside world exists at all. Going home to see my parents was such a culture shock after being here so long. Does the outside feel…y’know…weird for you?”
He’s immensely glad Natalie’s diverted the conversation to something less stressful and he makes a little thoughtful noise.
“It did when I was younger, especially before I left Roma. As I traveled more, I got used to the stares my vestments would get. Most people just assumed I was Catholic. But…I never really fit in at the abbeys I was at, either. Too odd to really fit in in either world.”
He chides himself at the sadness in his voice - he would never regret being vulnerable with her but he would be lying if he said the thought of his life still didn’t leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Natalie stays quiet, pensive, as the car enters the main street and he pulls into a spot outside the restaurant. He shuts off the engine with a sigh, slapping his thighs. She’s looking at him with an expression he can’t quite read, and she nods minutely to herself before unbuckling and getting out. He follows suit, jogging around the car to her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders before opening the restaurant door.
–
Their date goes wonderfully: the food, delicious and the company even more so. Copia’s friendliness with the owner, a woman in her seventies with a dyed bouffant, ensures that neither of them go hungry nor thirsty that night. By the time she finishes her bruschetta, her risotto, her tiramisu, and several glasses of wine, not only is Natalie content, she’s practically buzzing. She’s not drunk - nowhere near it - simply just happy to be in this moment with the man she adores. Her boyfriend. Is he her boyfriend? It somehow feels too juvenile a term for the two of them. Eh, whatever. She’ll take it. She’s torn from her thoughts by a chuckling Copia, sipping at the dregs of his affogato.
“What? What?”
He shakes his head with a smile.
“Nothing, cara, nothing. You, eh, ready to go?”
Natalie nods and slides her chair back, stretching, deeply looking forward to getting back to her quarters and taking these damn heels off. Lucia comes by for one last hug before the two of them walk out the door and Copia ushers her to the car. Fat drops begin to splatter on the windshield as Natalie waits for her love to take her home. When he gets into the car she slides to the center seat to nestle into him as he pulls away and down the long road to the abbey. The two of them are quiet during the drive back, his arm wrapped around her as her heavy eyelids droop and the rain hammers steadily on the roof. He pulls around and stops at the front steps.
“Your…your heels?”
She smiles and places a swift kiss on his cheek before exiting the vehicle and rushing to the dry entryway. He’s not terribly long behind her and the two of them hurry into the warmth. He holds her hand as they make the journey up to her rooms and when she opens the door she sighs dramatically.
“Make yourself at home,” Natalie murmurs to him as he shuts the door. She’s currently preoccupied with removing her shoes and tossing them in a corner, to be dealt with tomorrow. He settles on the couch as she removes her earrings.
“You can put on Dick Clark, or whatever,” she throws over her shoulder as she pads over to the fridge and pulls a bottle out, “I got champagne - well Terzo got us champagne technically - you interested?”
“Sì, sì,” he says with an enthusiastic nod, flipping through channels, “You say…Terzo gave it to you?”
“Yeah,” she reaches in the cabinet on tiptoes for her flutes, “Came by the other day with it, apparently it’s good stuff. I’ll drink the swill you get at the corner liquor store but I thought it was nice of him.”
“Hmm, yes. Nice.” Copia says, eyebrows pulled together. Natalie steps over to the couch and hands him his glass, clinking it with hers before settling in next to him with her legs tucked to the side.
If the wine at dinner didn’t go to her head, the champagne certainly does. The two of them have polished off the bottle - and just opened another, of the swill variety - and are laughing into one another on the couch.
“You did not do that to Nihil when you were a kid,” she gasps. Copia grins wide at her and nods, making her laugh all over again.
“It’s what the old man deserved,” he says simply, polishing off his glass.
“Listen, I don’t disagree with you but taking safety scissors to his hair…Christ, no wonder he’s always bitching at you.”
Her laughter slowly dies as she nuzzles into his shoulder, the scent of his cologne making her even more tipsy. He’s got his nose brushing against her hair and she wonders if he likes what he smells too.
“This is nice,” Natalie murmurs, as she leans up to place a slow kiss to his jaw. Her hand is resting on his chest and she feels his noise of agreement rumble through him. His hand comes up to cradle her head as she kisses her way to his lips. When she reaches her destination he groans as she slips her tongue against his. Natalie wants this man so very badly, more than she ever has before. When she pulls away briefly he looks befuddled as she stands up and looks down at him. The way he gazes up at her as her fingers dance along his freckled cheekbone makes her feel far more tipsy than the champagne ever could. Without a word she kneels on one side of his leg and pulls her other leg over to straddle him. His breathing is fast and rough as she scoots her hips so the two of them are flush.
“Dolcezza,” he finally breathes, “You…we shouldn’t…”
“But I want to,” Natalie murmurs against his lips, “I’ll wait. But let me have this. Please, Copia.”
There’s a slight whine to her voice in her pleading and she feels his cock twitch against her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she flexes her hips experimentally. The catch of her underwear on her clit with the movement pushes her to repeat it, over and over. Copia growls, low, before sliding his gloved hands up her bare thighs, rucking her dress over her hips.
“Go on, cara,” he grits out, as if possessed “Use me. Soak through these–” his hands toy with the waistband of her red lace underwear, “--and get your sweet smell all over me. Please. Please.”
His words knock the breath from her lungs as she grinds against him. She doesn’t even have her hand on him but she can feel that he’s big and the curve of him nudges her clit so beautifully. She’s biting her lip as she rides him, his large hands pulling and pushing her body.
“C-Copia,” Natalie whimpers, and he bucks up against her, “Feel so good. Fuck I–”
She can’t even get the words out before one of his hands grabs the back of her head and pulls her down. They’re panting into each other’s mouths even as they both lick and suck and rut their hips. When she finally has to pull away for breath, Copia keeps his hand at the back of her head, pressing their foreheads together.
“I am going to ruin you, Natalia,” he grunts, thrusting sharply against her in time with each roll of her hips, “You have n-no idea. I will hold you down and take and b-bring you such pleasure no one else will ever sate you. Sei il mio tutto.”
Natalie feels a gush of slick come out of her at his words, her pace picking up.
“Please, Copia,” she whines, “Please I need it, need you, I-I’ve wanted you for so long.”
He’s gripping her thighs with greater force now, hard enough she knows he’s going to leave bruises and the thought makes her even wetter.
“Bellezza mia,” he moans as her hips move frantically against him, her eyes rolling back at the way his cock bumps her swollen clit, “Anima mia, you have no–ah–no idea what you do to me. Ragazza perfetta–ragazza amata–”
Natalie’s head tilts back as she breathlessly chants - right there, right there, yes, yes, don’t stop - and he ruts up against her, his thrusts erratic. When she cums she moans long and loud - far more wanton than any sound she’s ever coaxed out of herself while on her own - and she feels the two scraps of fabric separating them become drenched. He’s not far behind and with a hoarse shout his cock kicks against her and the warmth of his seed soaks his trousers. They’re both trembling as they brush noses and she presses her forehead against his. Muffled cheering comes from the TV behind her, breaking their bubble, and she moves to look but he catches her chin between his thumb and forefinger and softly brushes his lips against hers. It’s achingly tender and when the two of them slowly part he blinks up at her. Natalie swears his white eye is glowing.
“Happy New Year,” she murmurs, her arms still slung around his neck.
“Happy New Year, amore mio,” he breathes.
She could rest in his lap like this forever, were it not clear to her that he must be incredibly uncomfortable - both with the weight and the mess in his pants. When she scoots back and places her feet on the floor to stand, her knees nearly give out.
“I’ll um…” she begins, distracted by the way his gloved fingers toy with the hem of her dress, “D-Do you want to stay? Not…not to…just to sleep.”
She expects him to recoil, to anxiously but gently reject her as he has in the past.
“Sì…yes. I would like that. I should…go shower…change…”
“Of course, me too,” she nods, giving him space to move. She’s overjoyed he’s agreed and smiles at him warmly as he raises himself from the couch. He cups her cheek with his palm and drags his thumb along the skin.
“Some champagne, huh?” he says with a wry grin, making her snort.
“Powerful stuff,” she agrees. Slowly, gently he closes the distance between them for another painfully tender kiss.
“I’ll be back, sì?” he tells her before placing another soft kiss on her forehead. She nods and reluctantly lets him pull away, watching him walk towards the door and open it. He gives her one last smile before shutting it behind him.
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Hiiii I'm a new follower and I have a request if you can be able to...
Could you please write some headcanons of how the upper moons 1-3 + muzan would eat you out? 😩
(I just started watching demon slayer not too long ago and omg the demons are finnnnnneeee)
how the upper moons would eat you out !!
including: kokushibo, douma, akaza, muzan.
a/n: hii tysm for followinggg, i actually had a fun time writing this! alsoo im soo sorry for posting this late i was supposed to finish this the day you asked but i was locked in on roblox🥹✌🏽
mdni, smut below cut !!!
Kokushibo
Kokushibo approaches the act with the same methodical precision he applies to his swordsmanship. There is nothing hurried, nothing careless about the way he touches you. He positions you before him like a ritual preparation—body arranged just so, limbs placed with deliberate intention, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation.
He does not speak. Words are unnecessary when his actions convey everything.
His hands are the first point of contact. Long fingers, calloused from centuries of gripping his blade, trace the inside of your thighs with a reverence that borders on worship. The touch is light at first—feathery strokes that map your skin, memorizing every contour, every sensitive patch. He watches your reactions with those six eyes, cataloging each twitch, each sharp inhale, each trembling exhale. He learns your body like a technique he intends to master.
When he finally lowers his head, it is with the grace of a falling leaf. His breath ghosts over your cunt, warm and measured, before his lips press a single kiss to your inner thigh. Then another. Another. He works his way inward with excruciating slowness, building anticipation until your hips shift involuntarily, seeking his mouth.
He denies you at first.
"Patience," he murmurs, the first word he's spoken. His voice is deep, resonant, vibrating against your sensitive skin.
His tongue emerges like a blade from its sheath—controlled, precise, devastating. He traces your folds with the tip, following the natural lines of your body like calligraphy strokes. The pressure is exact, never too much, never too little. He finds your clit not by accident but by design, circling it with a rhythm that feels premeditated.
He maintains that rhythm without deviation. He does not speed up, does not slow down, does not vary his technique until you are arching into his mouth, breath catching, fingers gripping the sheets. Only when your body signals impending climax does he change his approach—and even then, it is calculated.
He slides two fingers inside you, curling them with surgical precision, pressing against that spongy wall of nerves while his tongue continues its relentless circles. The combination is devastating, orchestrated to push you over the edge with mechanical efficiency.
When you come, he does not stop. He draws out every wave, every contraction, licking through your orgasm until you are trembling and oversensitive. Only then does he pull back, a thin string of saliva connecting his lips to your center.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression unreadable.
"Acceptable," he says. But the faintest curl at the corner of his lips betrays his satisfaction.
He will do it again, you realize. He has cataloged your responses, identified your weaknesses, and he will refine his technique until "acceptable" becomes "perfection."
Douma
Douma views the act as performance.
Not in a self-conscious way—he is beyond such mortal concerns—but in the sense that he approaches every interaction as a spectacle, a show to be witnessed and appreciated. That he happens to be the performer and the audience simultaneously is simply part of the entertainment.
He is theatrical from the moment he begins. He kneels before you with exaggerated reverence, pressing his palms together in mock prayer, a beatific smile spread across his features.
"Let us begin our communion," he says, his voice dripping with false piety. His rainbow eyes glitter with amusement. He knows exactly how ridiculous he looks. He does not care. If anything, he revels in it.
He takes his time undressing you, not with the reverence of Kokushibo but with the flair of a showman. Each piece of clothing removed is accompanied by a dramatic sigh, a murmured compliment, a lingering touch that borders on teasing. He treats your body like a gift he is unwrapping, savoring the reveal with theatrical delight.
When he finally settles between your thighs, he presses a kiss to each one, then to your mound, then to your clit through the fabric of your underwear—if you're still wearing any at this point. He looks up at you through his lashes, that infuriating smile still in place.
"This is my favorite part," he announces, as if sharing a delightful secret.
He is chatty. Gods, is he chatty.
"You taste divine tonight. Have you been eating something different? Or is it simply the anticipation making everything more exquisite?"
He punctuates his commentary with licks, each one deliberate and showy. He has a tendency to pull away at the worst moments—right when you're getting close, right when the pleasure crests toward its peak—just to make some observation or ask a question.
"Do you like it when I do this? Or perhaps you prefer—"
He demonstrates both options, watching your face with clinical fascination. He takes notes. Not literally, but you can feel his attention sharpen, cataloging your reactions with the same intensity Kokushibo uses, but for entirely different reasons. Douma wants to entertain you. He wants to be the best you've ever had, not out of pride but out of a deep, incomprehensible need to be interesting.
He switches techniques constantly. Fast, slow, broad strokes, pointed flicks, suction that borders on painful before softening into something gentler. He hums while he works, melodies from forgotten eras, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation.
When he brings you to climax, he does not stop talking.
"Yes, that's it. Beautiful. Absolutely exquisite. You should see your face right now—I wish I had a mirror—"
He licks through your orgasm with enthusiasm, lapping at you like a man dying of thirst. When you finally collapse, trembling, he sits up, chin glistening, and claps his hands together.
"Bravo. Encore? No? Perhaps later."
He will absolutely bring it up at dinner. "Remember that thing I did with my tongue? I've been thinking of variations."
Akaza
Akaza is intense.
There is no other word for it. The moment he decides he wants to taste you, everything else ceases to exist. The world narrows to the space between your thighs, and he attacks it with the same ferocity he brings to combat—but tempered with a desperation that borders on reverent.
He does not ask. He takes.
Not violently—never violently, not with you—but with a certainty that leaves no room for ambiguity. He pushes you onto your back, settles between your legs, and buries his face in your cunt like he's been starved for it. His first contact is a full-mouthed kiss, tongue pressing flat and firm, tasting you in long, greedy strokes.
He groans against you. The sound vibrates through your core, making your hips buck.
"Fuck," he breathes, the word muffled. "You taste—fuck."
His hands grip your thighs, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to bruise. He does not seem to notice, or perhaps he does not care. His focus is absolute, his attention laser-locked on the act of devouring you.
He is not methodical. He is not theatrical. He is hungry.
His tongue moves with desperate, frantic energy—licking, sucking, pressing, probing. He alternates between deep, broad strokes that cover your entire cunt and sharp, focused attention on your clit that makes you see stars. There is no rhythm, no pattern, just raw, unfiltered need.
He pulls away only to breathe, and even then, his mouth hovers over you, his breath hot and ragged, his eyes wild and intense.
"More," he growls. Not a question. A demand.
He dives back in.
He uses everything—lips, tongue, teeth (gentle, careful pressure that borders on pain before backing off), his nose pressing against your clit while his tongue works your entrance. He brings you to the edge so many times you lose count, each time pulling you back just before the fall, savoring your desperation.
"Please," you gasp, not knowing what you're begging for.
He groans in response, the sound desperate. He hooks your legs over his shoulders, pulling you closer, deeper, until his face is completely buried in your cunt, nose pressed against your clit, tongue fucking into you.
When he finally lets you come, it is with a roar of satisfaction that vibrates through your entire body. He does not relent, does not slow, does not stop until you are sobbing from the overstimulation, pushing weakly at his head.
Only then does he pull back, his face slick, his eyes burning with possessive fire.
"Mine," he says, and the word is a vow.
He will do it again within the hour. He will not be satisfied until you are completely wrecked, until you cannot walk, until the only word you remember is his name.
Muzan
Muzan does not kneel.
This is the first thing you must understand about him. He is the progenitor, the king of demons, a being who has lived for over a thousand years and answered to no one. The idea of him placing himself beneath anyone—even in an act of intimate service—is almost incomprehensible.
And yet.
He does it because he chooses to. And that choice makes it infinitely more significant.
He arranges you on the bed with imperial precision. He does not undress you himself—that would be beneath him—but he instructs you to do so, watching with cold, appraising eyes as you comply. His gaze moves over your body like a general surveying a battlefield, assessing worth, calculating value.
When he is satisfied, he approaches.
He does not lower himself to the bed. Instead, he remains standing, looking down at you with an expression of detached curiosity. His hand reaches out, fingers tracing down your torso, pausing at your hip, your thigh, before sliding between your legs.
He examines you like a specimen. His fingers part your folds, exposing you to the cool air, to his unblinking stare. He does not touch where you want him to—not yet. He simply looks.
"So this is what you offer," he murmurs, more to himself than to you. "Interesting."
He brings his fingers to his lips, tasting your essence with the deliberation of a sommelier sampling wine. His eyes close briefly, and when they open, there is something new in them. Interest. Perhaps even hunger.
He finally kneels.
But even on his knees, he exudes authority. He does not grovel. He does not plead. He positions himself between your thighs with the grace of a predator settling into a strike, and when he lowers his head, it is with the deliberate intention of a king bestowing a gift.
His tongue is inhuman.
Not in the grotesque sense—it appears normal, pink and wet and warm—but in its precision, its control, its ability to adapt in ways no human tongue could match. He can make it longer, thinner, can change its texture from smooth to rough with a thought. He uses this ability with calculated cruelty.
He starts with soft, broad strokes that cover your entire cunt, his eyes fixed on your face, watching every micro-expression. He finds the spots that make you gasp, the angles that make you moan, and he files that information away for later use.
He does not rush. He takes his time, drawing out the experience, savoring your responses like a connoisseur tasting a rare wine. Occasionally, he pulls away entirely, leaving you aching and empty, just to see the frustration flicker across your face.
"You want more," he says. It is not a question.
"Yes."
"Do you deserve more?"
The question hangs in the air. He waits for your answer, his tongue tracing lazy patterns on your inner thigh, deliberately avoiding where you need him most.
"Please," you finally say.
He smiles. It is not a kind smile.
"Good answer."
He returns to your cunt with renewed purpose, his tongue now focused on your clit, flicking and circling with inhuman speed. He adds fingers—three, four, more? It's hard to count, hard to think when he's doing that—curling them inside you, stretching you, filling you.
The pleasure builds like a storm, overwhelming and relentless. He does not let up, does not slow, does not give you a moment to catch your breath. He drives you toward climax with merciless efficiency, and when you finally break, he does not stop.
He keeps going, drawing out your orgasm until it borders on painful, until you are shaking and crying and begging him to stop. Only then does he pull back, licking his lips, his expression one of cold satisfaction.
"Adequate," he pronounces. "We will try again tomorrow. I expect better results."
He will not tell you what "better results" means. He will simply push you harder, demand more, and take immense pleasure in watching you fall apart beneath his touch.
Bonus: All Four Simultaneously
In the impossible scenario where all four Upper Moons decide to share you, the experience would be overwhelming in every sense of the word.
Kokushibo would focus on your upper body, pinning you in place, whispering instructions in that calm, measured voice. "Breathe. Do not fight it. Surrender."
Douma would narrate the entire experience, offering commentary that ranges from poetic to obscene, laughing at the absurdity of the situation even as he buries his face between your thighs.
Akaza would consume himself with one goal: making you come as many times as possible. He would track each orgasm, pushing for the next, never satisfied until you were reduced to a trembling, incoherent mess.
And Muzan would watch. He would stand apart, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with cold amusement, directing the scene like a conductor leading an orchestra. His pleasure would come not from physical participation but from the absolute control he holds over every aspect of the experience.
I got a bit overwhelmed with how many art fight attacks I'm drawing at once rn and decided to draw Copia to chill myself out lol 😅 I think at the end of the day he always ends up covered in ghoul fur
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joining the war on kids reading any book they want on the side of kids reading any book they want. simply you will be fine. it's even good to be confronted with things you don't understand and even find upsetting, uncomfortable and difficult. it's a surprise tool that will help you later.
literally ok so not a funny story but kind of funny? when I was nine I encountered rape in a book and I was like hey mom what’s this mean and she explained it and I was like oh. gross. and then like two weeks later a girl on the bus abruptly disclosed her csa and we were all like ????? what ???? but I was like wait hang on there’s a word for that ☝️🤓 and explained what it meant and that it was illegal and that you could talk to a teacher or my mom if it had happened to you and everyone was like ohhhhh I see I see and very somberly comforted the girl (she was safe she was removed from her home and living with my neighbor at the time so it wasn’t Urgent)
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