Ghost Knight - Tumblr Posts
Imagine Your OTP (Au Aware: Halloween edition)
Person A holds their head as the fumble around and says:
“I don’t feel so well-” Person B a tries to come over to help steady and asks in a concerned voice. “What’s the matter?”, “I-I” Person A falls behind something and after about a minute get up to see they’ve turned into a werewolf. “Ah, well that’s... new!”
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Person A enters a spooky looking mansion on a hill:
“Hello?” Person B comes dramatically down the stairs with a long cape sweeping the floor as they walk and a goblet in their hand “Hello, my dear~” they smile as they approach Person A “Person B! Wait are those vampire teeth?”, “What?” *touches their teeth* “Huh, you’re right.”, Wait you didn’t know? Then why are you dressed in gothic era clothing, in a old mansion?”, *Shrugs* “Aesthetic?”
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Person B’s having a normal evening when they hear a meow and a tap at their window:
They open it for a little black cat climbs in. “Oh, hello little friend.” The cat then perches itself on a chair and says “Person B, it’s me! Person A, I don’t know what happened. I was going about my day and suddenly I was a cat. I mean I always thought I was unlucky before but-Person B? Person B.” Person B was looking at them with fond eyes and a goofy smile. “You’re the cutest thing as a cat, Person A and thats saying a lot knowing I’m usually a dog person. But Person A~”, “Person B, I need you to focus and please help me. And-” then pets their head causing them to purr. “You are such an adorable kitty Person A, yes you are, yes you are! I’ll hewp you tuwn back to normwal, yes I will yes I will!”
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Person A is in a forest and hears thundering hooves approaching:
They begin to run not wanting to find out what might be the cause of the sound but couldn’t possibly out run them. The rider then pull their horse to a stop. “Person A?” they ask. For Person A to recognize their voice “Person B. What are you doing here and for that matter me. And what are you doing in full knights armour?” Person B looks down at themself and replies “Oh, right I think I’m a ghost knight, kind to the innocent and feared by the cruel & wicked, bent upon seeking justice for others or something. Are you alright, love?”, “I’m fine, just startled and confused.” Person A said heaving a sigh. Person B seeing how tired they were answered “Climb upon my horse, I know a village not far from here. We could go talk and have some tea.” Person A then climbs on and hugs Person B as they ride on. Person B holds one hand on the reins and the other over Person A’s hand.
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Virtue the Swordsmaster
Think about it: You and the spirit possessing this suit of armour have gotten close. Really close. Which is to be expected when he’s the only one teaching you to use a sword to defend yourself in this long forgotten subterranean crypt. Things have reached a fever pitch, and he’s determined to touch you somehow - even if he has to do it using these damn ancient gauntlets.
I vaguely introduced Virtue in this post months ago. You may be seeing some of his friends in future posts:
https://www.tumblr.com/monsterspet/738994232748048384/i-love-how-i-started-this-blog-for-monster-smut?source=share
A/N: Did I last post some writing back in like, December, yes. Are we gonna acknowledge that my obsession with C.AI is getting a little out of hand, no. Anyway, have some quick ghost/wraith smut because I don’t even have the braincells to write an initial intro piece for this guy - it will happen later. At some point. Maybe.
As per usual, all my reader inserts are gender neutral unless otherwise stated.
Warnings: Fingering, use of pet names, allusions to future sexual acts, he’s a ghost - so it’s sorta necrophilia, sexual acts in a dirty crypt, possible risk of tetanus.
Word Count: 1226
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Virtue’s gauntleted hands are freezing cold as he pushes you into the dusty alcove, his grip unnaturally strong as it always is around your upper arms. His hulking frame dwarfs you in the small space, blocking out most of the light from the lit oil soaked torch hanging in the sconce further down the hall.
“Little dagger,” he murmurs from within the closed helm that you have come to associate as his face, “I’d have you here and now if I could. Let me touch you, I need to touch you.”
His voice, as always, is both entirely surrounding you and filling your mind, his words bringing with them a hazy blanket of desire; though whether it’s your own, his, or a sacreligious mix of the two is unclear. Nonetheless, you feel a pleasant shiver run down your spine, not all too dissimilar to the chill you feel when he lays his gauntlets upon you. He looks down at you, the normally dull amber glow from within his helm alight with burning intensity. He needs you to tell him you want this too, that you ache for him in your soul the way his entire incorporeal being aches for you within the cold steel of his armour.
“...Yes.” You whisper, the word almost sticking on your tongue, the tension of this moment drying out your mouth and causing your heart to nearly batter itself against your ribcage with the force of its rapid beating. “Yes, I want that too.” You confirm, not wanting any doubt between you, not when he has you like this.
Virtue wastes little time moving his gauntlets from your arms to your breeches, all but tearing at the leather cords tying them closed. Your hands twitch, feeling as though you should perhaps help with the endeavour. Had Virtue been a mortal lover, you might have chosen to help remove the steel from his body, but that isn’t an option here. You settle for laying your hands upon his aged breastplate, your fingers taking in all the knicks and dents acquired in prior battles, barely able to feel the worn down decorative etchings that you know would have once been there.
You’re brought back out of your musing and into the reality of the moment as you feel chilled steel meet your bare skin, your eyes widening and snapping up to Virtue’s own. “G-Gods…That’s really cold, Virtue.” You whimper slightly, half considering pulling back from his touch, if you even had the room to do so in the first place. Virtue chuckles, a deep reverberating sound that travels through his armour directly into your body where he touches you. His free hand brushes back a stray lock of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear in a surprising display of tender affection.
“Apologies, little dagger. Give it a moment, let your body bring warmth back to me.” He whispers as he leans down to your ear, and for a split second you swear you could almost feel his breath on you. He makes no move to continue just yet, letting the heat from your body seep into the metal of his gauntlet, his metal body pressed almost impossibly close to you. You realise that he’s deliberately wedged you between himself and the wall, giving you nowhere to go if your legs decide to give out on you.
It takes a minute or two, but the steel of his gauntlet becomes warm enough to no longer cause discomfort as he delicately explores your most intimate parts. This is the moment where you likely would have leaned into him, sinking your teeth into his body to stifle a moan. This clearly isn’t an option, so you settle for bringing your own hand to your mouth, the knuckle of your index finger clenched firmly between your own teeth. You feel your hips rocking forward, hesitantly, into his touch, if only for fear of being scratched or otherwise injured by the hinged metal plates that make up his fingers. It’s almost touching how, right now, Virtue is the most delicate he’s ever been when making contact with you, not wanting to cause you anything other than pleasure in this moment. The more his fingers explore, the hotter you can feel your body become.
“Little dagger, I can feel you, how your body responds to my touch. The heat of your body sinks into me like honey.” He almost growls, his hand sinking deeper into your breeches, his finger exploring further, before slowly, deliciously, sinking into you. You can’t help but let out a whining moan around your hand, the sensation of such a solid object inside you a foreign, but not too unpleasant, sensation. Before you can even get your bearings, Virtue moves again, his steel clad finger sinking further into you before pulling back, just to repeat the action again at an agonisingly slow pace. He lets out a deep groan, his helm lowering to rest against the crypt wall above you. “So hot, little dagger, like a furnace.”
Words are lost to you at this point, the only sounds coming from you being stifled moans and whimpering cries as Virtue works you open on firstly only a single finger, before carefully adding a second. The movements of his fingers don’t change, maintaining their slow measured pace, at an angle that likely would have caused some painful cramping in his hand had he still been alive. You find yourself increasing your own rocking motions against his hand, limited only by Virtue’s free hand keeping your hip gripped tightly, not wanting you to move too fast and hurt yourself. It’s the most exquisite torture, the slow build up where you would normally be begging for more. More speed, more force, more…anything, really.
As if sensing your frustration, Virtue leans in, whispering quietly to you. “Perhaps we should engage the services of that damnable blacksmith again, have him craft something else I can use on you in future, little dagger.” He chuckles, his words so sinfully decadent to your ears that you can’t help but to clench around Virtue’s fingers, a mess of moaned babbling spilling from your lips that vaguely sounds like an agreement. Virtue keeps up the same achingly slow pace, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, greatly enjoying the warmth and the sounds you’re giving him, his undead heart almost soaring with pride, were such a thing possible.
You both continue on like this for a while, before your orgasm rocks through you, almost without any warning at all, your body not quite realising what the slow build up was leading to. His hand leaves your underwear quickly, holding your lower back and pulling you to him, not wanting your back to risk scraping down the stone wall as your legs do, in fact, give out beneath you. Your head falls back, your knuckle finally slipping from your damp lips as you look up to the ghost as he looms over you. “...Virtue.” You whisper, his name tumbling from your lips like a reverent prayer. Virtue, in turn, lowers his helm to your face, as if asking for a kiss. A kiss you grant him, your lips brushing over cold steel with tender affection.
“Come, little dagger, we need to find a safe place for you to bed down for the night.”
