Hayden

Perhaps this was normal, after all he had tamed himself well enough to keep the beast at bay. From revealing his true form like any demon would have by that point.

You knew what he was. You knew how dangerous he could be with his biting teeth and razor sharp claws, and you should have been terrified. In fact, you should’ve been running out the door and screaming bloody murder when he approached you with faint concern about whether you’d enjoy this. Instead, you lay on your back, arms wrapped around Sebastian’s neck tightly as he leered down at you. His length twitched in his hand when he stroked from base to tip, ready to bury himself in that awaiting pussy.

“Your innocence… It's so tempting.” Sebastian sighed before slotting the head of his cock through your folds, catching dewy arousal that pooled there.

“It-It’s too much.” Your cheeks heated at the sensation of him pushing into you. He was huge. Not that you hadn’t noticed before, but the burning stretch of his tip reached places that felt nearly impossible to find. And you mewled at that. You barely had enough time to process it all.

“I’m afraid I do not have the restraint to be gentle,” he exhaled, appetence thick in his throat. Desires he’d long forgotten re-entered his mind more intensely, and itched to be satiated. Searching fingers trailed over your stomach and eventually rested at your thighs, imagining these areas much plumper, much fuller when you fell pregnant. His digits clenched over your thighs and dug into the flesh until he couldn’t hesitate anymore, and he thrusted to the hilt. “Forgive me.”

As Sebastian rutted his swollen cockhead to meet your cervix, his demon form emerged right before your eyes. Sharp teeth grazed over the smooth skin of your breasts, and a pointed tongue flickered over puffy nipples. You even surprised yourself, gushing around him at that.

His seed leaked out of your cunt after he came, and incessant thoughts played over: breed her. You watched as his cock grew again and you tensed underneath him. He nearly chuckled at your apprehension. After all, everything would take much getting used to… That of course was no exaggeration.

My, my, Sebastian thought, motherhood will look delightful on you, my love.

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓, 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒. you did like all the kids but you couldn’t help but have a soft spot for jean’s daughter. she was just so adorable and well mannered. it was obvious that she got it all from her daddy, who was so polite to you when he came to pick up his darling child.

at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel bad for the little girl. it was no secret to you that her parents were separated. at first it came to you as a shock because of how sweet and handsome the father was but it started to make sense when the girl’s mother picked her up from daycare the first time.

the woman came across to you as cold and closed off. she was quite blunt with you whenever it was her turn to have her daughter. it quickly became clear to you that perhaps jean wasn’t the issue in their past marriage. still, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him.

maybe it was the little crush you developed on jean talking, but a man such as that deserved better. his daughter deserved better. it was wrong for you to think these things, you knew that. truly it was none of your business but sometimes you wished you could make it better for both parties that you adored.

well maybe you could. the possibility arose when jean called your daycare to inform you that his daughter wouldn’t be there today. she was sick. the entire day you were worried out of your mind over the girl you were so fond of. so worried that once all the other children got picked up at the end of the day, you decided to pay mr kirstein a visit.

his address was in your logs and it wasn’t too far from your own place so it was no trouble driving there. yes, you could have just called to ask about his daughter’s condition but you wanted to go over and above by dropping off some soup. at least that was the excuse you planned to use.

soon after arriving at the residence and knocking on the door you’re greeted by jean himself. the man, who’s older than you by about ten years, appears a little surprised by your presence but eventually smiles back at you anyway.

“i’m sorry to show up all of a sudden but i wanted to check in on your daughter. brought soup for that cold of hers” you explain as you shift your weight nervously on jean’s front porch.

“oh well she’s actually not here” jean, rubs the back of your neck. “i just dropped her off with her mother”. your cheeks start to feel hot with embarrassment but jean’s quick to reassure you. “but that’s really nice of you, sweetheart. come on in. it’s cold out”.

and that’s how you end up stepping into the man’s house. you already thought jean was handsome but sitting down on his sofa with him to talk for a bit, somehow he looks even more attractive in this light. it’s a shameful thing for you to think about while you’re supposed to be checking on his daughter’s condition but it can’t be helped.

luckily you’re not the only individual with wandering thoughts. at the same time you were admiring jean he was admiring you. he’s thought you were cute since the first day he let you take his child into your care. on top of that you were so good with his daughter. you were what a proper mother should be.

you’re not quite sure how it happened. one second you were chatting about his daughter, then his troubles with his ex wife, and then you’re underneath jean on his sofa. he’s kissing your neck and tugging your clothes off like a pro.

“so pretty” jean mumbles against your skin. “gonna be a good little princess for me, yeah?”.

this is where you should put a stop to things, tell jean to stop. you should be putting back on your clothes that've been tossed across the room and get out of there but you can’t. deep down you’ve been fantasizing about this for far too long. so when jean sucks your nipple into your mouth you nod.

“y-yes sir” your breath hitches as jean let’s go of your perky bud with an obnoxious pop.

“sir?” he quirked an eyebrow as king of his long fingers runs along your folds. “no, no, no. call me daddy, sweetheart”.

moaning at his requested title, you almost clamp your legs shut when jean pushes two of his fingers inside. that just won’t do. instantly jean pushing your thighs apart so he can properly pump his digits into your soaking cunt.

you’re squirming and moaning underneath him until jean suddenly removes his fingers. tapping his now wet middle and index fingers against your bottom lip, jean slides then on to your tongue the moment you open your mouth for him. “that’s it” jean coos, as you clean your own slick off his fingers. “ready for daddy’s cock, darling?”.

“please, daddy” you practically whimper.

the pathetic desperate look on your face is enough to make jean groan. instantly he’s unclasping his belt and pulling his cock out of its confines. the moment you lay your eyes on it a shiver runs up your spine. the fact that jean was so tall and had such broad shoulders should have been a clue to his size but now that it’s staring you straight in the face… you may be in over your head.

“what’s wrong, sweetheart?” jean chuckles when he sees your expression. “still think you can take me? i think you can. don’t worry, daddy will take it slow”.

you need him too bad to refuse. watching jean give his girth a few strokes, you try to grip on to whatever you can as his fat head begins to tease your entrance. your breath gets caught in your throat the moment he pushes himself inside. “too big, too big!” you repeat, tears prickling in your eyes at the stretch.

jean simply kisses away your tears, not stopping his efforts to stuff you full. “doing so well for daddy. know you can handle it” he encourages, large hands landing on your hips to stop you from trying to run away from him.

curses fall from jean’s lips as he watches your tiny pussy slowly swallow all he had to offer. just watching that bulge start to form in your stomach makes him feel like he’s gonna cum like a virgin. “so fucking perfect” he grits his teeth when he finally bottoms out. “gonna fill you up like you deserve”.

your heart pitter patters nervously when he starts to pull out but any anxieties you have vanish when he slams back in. the loud moan that echoes from you is almost unrecognizable. you’re not sure what to do with your hands as jean sets his pace so you just end up clawing at his back.

feeling your nails against his skin eggs him on even more. “you feel that? feel how deep i am?” jean grunts. “my cums gonna go right there” he says, pointing at where you can see his cock poking out in your tummy.

“want it, daddy. please” you babble, head feeling fuzzy at the idea of this man cum seeping out of you.

“daddy’s gonna give it to you. don’t you worry your pretty little head” he half chuckles, half moans. “gonna breed this pretty pussy. what do you say? be my daughter's other mommy?”.

your brain is too fucked out for you to process what you’re agreeing to. all you know is that you want him. you want to be his. so you nod your head at his question. a pleased grin spreads across jean’s face.

“knew you would. gonna make you mine” he says, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder so he can deepen his thrusts even more.

his strokes prove to be too much for you. and when his tips rams against your special spongy spot, you're through. head sinking into the couch cushion, you cum on his length with a mewl. seeing that creamy ring appear around his dick makes jean groan but he’s not finished. he abuses your quivering pussy until his time comes.

“milk this cock, baby. fuck, milk it” he moans, his heavy balls emptying their seed inside your overstimulated hole. with his promise kept, jean gives you a few more lazy pumps before he pulls out of you entirely. “knew you’d be amazing and you were” jean praises. “stay the night, princess. i’ll take good care of you”.

and you do stay the night and you come over again the night after, and the night after that. before long it’s like you never leave except when you have to go to work. when you are at the daycare you run into jean’s ex wife. she’s as cold as ever toward you now but 𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐒𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘.

His hands caress yours and you're startled once more by how rough his callouses are-- little bumps that skip over your smooth skin like pebbles across a placid lake. When your fingers bend the correct way to hit the note he asked you do he nods behind you and you can feel the chin strap of his mask bounce on your shoulder gently. It's been a mostly silent lesson, for the most part. Dew seems to only be deadly serious when it comes to his chosen instrument.

"You're doing great, you know. Hard to believe you've never played before." Dew walks back around to face you again, his Strat slung loosely around his shoulders. You flex your shoulders a little, readjusting the Fantomen's weight. It's heavier than you expected just by looking at it, and it's given you a new found respect for the scrawny Ghoul in front of you.

"It's difficult... But I think I'm learning. Does the finger agility just come with practice?" you ask, looking up from the neck of the instrument to Dew. He smirks through the small mouth cut out in the new masks, bringing up a hand and flexing his fingers a few times.

"Practice and use, Sister. Fingering a guitar is like fingering a woman... Strong placement, bend it when you need to, push down, and make sure you pull away right when they hit that note you're looking for." Dew puts his hand back on the neck of the guitar and does a quick scale, lingering on the last note and warping the string until it whines with the whammy bar on the body. "Make her croon."

"Right," you start, clearing your throat and lowering your head to watch your fingers. Your hair falls forward, loose from the headdress already, and you're slightly grateful for the makeshift veil to hide your blush. "Make her croon, then." After another steadying breath you run through the same scale that Dew did, finishing by trying to warp the string as he did.

"Mm, you don't love her enough. Sometimes you gotta be forceful to get what you want." Dew steps closer, putting his finger on top of yours on the fret and pressing down until the string bites into your finger-- it bends perfectly, making a keening sound. "See? When you want her to cum- I'm done with this metaphor. Just press hard and pull and it'll work for you."

"Okay," you bark out with a laugh, leaning back and closing your eyes while you laugh. He laughs with you, an easy sound that goes to your heart. "What about this hand?" You hold up your right hand, gesturing vaguely at the sound board on the guitar's body.

"Same concept. You have to learn to think in two's. Your hands are separate from each other, so don't move them in tandem." Dew holds up two fingers, moving them close to each other and then separating them again. "One unit, two parts. Divide your thinking. Back to the sex metaphors, finger the girl and twist her nipples at the same time."

"I-"

"Never done that? Do it to yourself tonight and you'll see what I mean. Get those fingers to learn to work separate from the whole. But not from the hole." He winks and throws his head back, laughing loudly with one hand on his chest. You laugh with him, taking the guitar off and resting it in the stand carefully. He does the same, leaning back onto one of the large amps and crossing his ankles.

"I can't say I've ever done that but I can certainly try," you finish lamely, flushing a bright red again. Dew cocks his head to the side slightly and you catch sight of his forked tongue flicking out quickly to wet his lower lip.

"I could show you, you know." He leans closer to you, his arms still folded in front of him, deepening the tilt of his head until you feel uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "Would you like that?"

"I- I think I would." You're shocked by your own answer but, let's be real-- you'd be lying if you said you've never wondering what it felt like to have those claws and that tongue on you.

You and Dew had been screwing around for ages.

He was your pal. Your go-to guy. In and out of the bedroom. You missed him when he was on tour and were joined at the hip when he wasn’t. It was good to have him at home for a bit before they went back out on the road. Neither of you had ever made anything official but you were sort of a packaged deal. Gross, if you asked Dew in public. His red, hot lifer if you asked him after a few drinks at home.

And so, honestly, you were kind of surprised when Copia reprimanded you two in the middle of the sermon. In front of the entire congregation. Of course, you’d deserved it. Dew had his mouth attached to your neck for half the homily (you had a lovely line of hickeys to show for it) and his hand up your skirt while Copia offered communion. You were the only ones in the back row. It was dark. You weren’t bothering a soul. Cirrus was staring but, she’d been invited for a date night on Tuesday and this was just a little preview. What was the big deal? But then he’d called you out again when you’d cum a little too hard on Dew’s fingers and he’d asked you – no – he’d ordered you to stay after in the chapel. Everyone had turned to look at you and Dew refused to take his hand out from between your legs. He only moved when Copia snapped his fingers at him, making you jump and Dew heat the vicinity...

And then, Copia told Aether to lock the doors.

You and Dew had stood in front of him while he slowly took off his mitre and robes, “I understand that you two have missed each other,” he said, neatly laying his chasuble over the pew, “And I understand that the other Papa’s in the past have been... lenient. But when I am speaking. When I am speaking of our Dark Lord,” he took off his belt and loosened the buttons at the top of his shirt, “You will give Him the respect he deserves. You will give me the respect I deserve.”

“I... I am sorry,” you stuttered, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Dew, “I guess we’ve been a little out of control.”

“You know how it is with spaghetti,” Dew said, giving Copia his best puppy-dog eyes.

“Shutthefuckup,” you panicked. Copia was staring at you – he really was annoyed. His white was glowing and the vein in his neck was throbbing, “We’ll just go. It won’t happen, again.”

Copia held out his hand, standing a few steps up from you, “You will take your punishment. You will take it as you have for past transgressions, si?” Your belly heated at the thought – pooling in a lusty haze between your legs. You had only been punished once before. When you and Dew and Swiss had been caught fucking in Copia’s bed. It was such a big, lovely bed and Copia had certainly seen you punished in it. You looked to Dew who swallowed. There was something about Copia tonight. Something dark and dominant and predatory. He stood with his hand outstretched, he cocked his head to the side, “You are telling your Papa... no?” his eyes flashed.

“No, Papa. Of course not. I am sorry for disrespecting you during Mass. We’ll take our punishment as you see fit.”

Now you’re filled to the brim with Copia.

He’s sitting on his throne – shirt unbuttoned and pants undone and pushed down just enough for you to take him fully. You’re naked and so is Dew. Dew’s stroking himself but, he’s been instructed not to cum  - the same orders for you. Copia is delivering his sermon, again, because you missed it the first time. You were too busy fucking and now you must listen. He’s an idiot if he thinks you’re capable of listening. He’s already cum, twice, and between his release and your need, your aching thighs are slick down to your knees.

His fingers make slow, lazy circles around your clit and you shudder, two hands gripping the ornate arms of his gilded chair, he leans forward and presses his lips to the soft skin behind your ear, “Look at him,” he whispers, inhaling your scent, “Look at him. Look how his cock leaks for you. How hard and dark,” your pussy clenches around Copia and he exhales, grinding you down onto his cock, “And you? So wet and trembling and whimpering, my little pet,” he runs a fingertip down your spine, “You are doing so well.”

“Papa, please,” you whisper, losing any credit for doing so well.

“On your knees, Dewdrop,” Copia says, pointing at his feet. Yours, toes curled and bare, dangle in between his, “Here.”

Dewdrop scrambles up the steps, pushing his sweat-soaked hair away from his face. He puts his hands on your thighs and stares at Copia. Copia grips your hips and grinds you down onto him, “Oooooh, fuck,” you say through gritted teeth, “Papa, I can’t. I can’t do it.”

Copia takes a fistful of hair and pulls you back to him, your back arching, “You will not cum until I tell you, si? You will not cum and if you do, we will begin, again and perhaps I will make Dewdrop sit here, hm? Or, would it hurt more if you sat on him?” he rocked you still, with one hand, the other keep you close to him, his lips on your cheek, “You two have run amuck for weeks. You think I do not know you have been in my office? My bed once more?”

“Papa,” you said, tears streaming down your face, “Please, let me cum,” you begged – your thighs shaking, your sides burning. You’d never been made to wait this long. You didn’t even know what you were being punished for anymore. You were simply aware of the fire. Of the ocean. Of the mountains of pressure, the waves cresting and cresting and cresting and...

Copia removed his hand and you exhaled, leaning against him – sure that you were on the precipice of release. Copia’s hand found your thigh and pressed it wide. You snaked your hand over his, lacing your fingers in his, “My hand is tired, Dewdrop.”

Dew looked up at Copia, “Papa?”

“Use your tongue.”

“Oh, fuck, Copia,” you said, squirming, “Please, I can’t. I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Hush,” Copia wrapped his arms around you and held you tight, down onto his cock – the ache of taking him fully, like this did nothing to help your resolve. Dew ran his tongue up your thigh through the cum and the slick and moaned. You were glad he could enjoy himself – cursing the fact that it was so much easier for him to hold it back, “You said you will take your punishment,” Copia reminded you, you cried out, gnawing on your lip as Dew’s hot, forked tongue made contact with your clit, “Ah,” Copia smiled against your cheek as you broke – but obeyed your orders - your eyes rolling in the back of your head. Dew showed you no mercy. He wanted you as much as you wanted him. He wanted to please Copia as much as you did. And Copia knew you both would obey until the sun came up, “What a punishment it is, my goddess. Stop,” Copia commanded and Dew backed away immediately, your entire body turned to mush, “Up,” Copia patted your thigh, “Stand up.”

“Oh, thank you, Papa,” you said, Dew holding your hips as you stood on shaking legs. You looked down at him and he gave you a squeeze and a wink.

“Turn,” Copia said and you did, meeting his gaze, “Sit. Facing me.”

“Papa. Papa,” you whined.

Copia cocked his head to the side and you obeyed without another word. You straddled him and exhaled as you sunk down onto his cock, “You take it so well, every time,” he said, pushing your hair behind your ears as you settled against him, “Your tongue, Dewdrop,” Copia took your ass in his hands, gripping it tightly and spreading it wide, “You may resume.”

Dew seemed to be a bit too excited about this punishment, you thought as he lathed his tongue around your entrance, “Fuck,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to Copia’s, “Just one time,” you begged, “Please, please just one time.”

“No.”

The moan that escaped your lips was otherworldly when Dew slipped his tongue inside of you, “God, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Please, Papa. I can’t do it.”

“You can and you will,” Copia took hold of the back of your neck and kissed you, his tongue down your throat, effectively muffling the squeals Dew elicited from you. You tried to get away, arching you back and bucking your hips but, Dew seemed to have abandoned any thought of mercy – his claws pricked into your sides and he slammed you back onto Copia’s cock and only pushed his tongue further, “Good girl,” Copia said, his lips against yours – his breath was hot and ragged on your skin and you knew he was close, again, “Such a good pet. My good pet. Fuck her, Dewdrop. I want you to fuck her.”

“What?” Dew pressed a kiss to your ass, “Really?”

“If you cum, I will make you start, again.”

You heard Dew spit and then a moment later, felt him press against your asshole. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken two. It certainly wasn’t the first time it had been Copia and Dew. But fuck it was the first time you hadn’t been able to cum. Your vision blurred as Dew hissed, sinking into you achingly slow. You lifted your head and arched your back, this time taking Copia by the hair and making him kiss you.

Fuck it. You’d start over.

You rolled your hips into Copia’s and he grabbed onto your arms and Dew growled in delight, “Fuck yeah,” he said through his fangs, “Fuck yeah, baby. Fuck him.”

“No,” Copia took your face into his hand, scrunching up your lips, “No. You will not.”

You were silent in your disobedience – riding Copia fast and hard while Dew’s hips slammed into your ass. Copia held your gaze and you refused to look away. He might be Papa now but, he was still Copia. Let him make you start, again. Let him fill you with two beautiful cocks and all the cum you could handle. For the time being, Copia gave in. His mouth found your chest, sucking your nipple, he moaned and whined just as much as you did. Dew reached around to tease your clit and you doubled over – your mouth open but silent against Copia’s as you came – shaking and squirting and gasping for air.

The entire room turned black and a moment later, all was still except for Copia kissing you back to life. Dew was back on his knees – his tongue laying long, gentle strokes from one end of you to the other, “We gotta start over?” you asked, your lips smooshed against Copia’s chest.

“I think you have served your sentence,” Copia chuckled and you smiled.

“S’good,” you mumbled.

You jumped a bit when Dew got a little overzealous and Copia swatted at his face, “She’s half-dead you mongrel, let her be a moment.”

“If I could just,” you lifted your hips and Copia pulled himself out of you, “I love your cock,” you said, sitting back down, nestling into Copia’s chest, “I just need a moment. My pussy needs a moment.”

“Scoot over,” Dew said, wiggling his way onto Copia’s lap.

“There’s not enough of room,” You whined but, moved over and Copia was smug, grinning as the two of you settled against him, “big chair.”

“There is always room,” he kissed your head and kissed Dew’s cheek, “Now. Did we learn our lesson?” he ran a finger up and down your spine, sneaking a bit lower each time and you knew the night was not over – Dew had his hand on his cock -slow, rolling strokes – reading your mind.