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ghostiebeech · 13 days ago

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It's me, your favorite little bastard of a man, to suggest Alpha wanting Earth to fuck him fast and rough but Earth just. Insists on loving him. Insists on being good to him. "Making Love" to him. And Alpha cums in about five seconds flat.

-Void

Kinktober day 14: tender sex

Prompts by @kroas-adtam

My 9 to 5 is cutting open old scars

Alpha/earth

Explicit, 2k, Warnings for: unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy ideas about sex, it’s not exactly sub drop but like it’s definitely similar, this kinda barely horny I’m ngl it’s mostly alpha dealing with his feelings and earth being sweet

“You can meet me in my room when I’m done” earth left it open ended, giving alpha the choice whether to come or not. He knew he would, he wouldn’t be able to resist. Craving to be put out of his mind for a bit, to be punished for his bad attitude. It usually helped him come to terms with it.

“You really don’t like it?” Earth held up the small bear looking block of wood he had carved. No bigger than his hand, just a cute figurine and hobby for him to focus on while he no longer played with the band, “if you don’t like it, do you think water will?”

“I’m not the water expert am I?” Alpha blew ash out of the fireplace, coughing as it flung right into his nose and eyes.

“Well no, but I trust your opinion”

“Seems like your fucking mistake” alpha whispered, just a bit too loud as he slammed the metal grate shut and stood up. He wiped his soot-covered palms on his jeans and shoved his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt, keeping his posture low in order to duck out.

“What’s your problem?” Earth sighed, he tries not to be overly frustrated with how alpha acts sometimes, but there’s only so much that everyone can take before the tensions get too heavy for it not to be addressed. “You’ve been acting like a dick, more than usual lately”

Alpha froze at the doorway with his back turned to earth. He should’ve been smart and kept walking but if there was one thing that was able to set alpha off, it was pointing out his bad attitude. The hair on the back of his bristled, his hands balling into fists as he heard earth push back his chair to stand up.

“Talk to me spitfire. I know you’re better than this” earth stood behind him. He placed a hand on his shoulder, making alpha flinch and pull back from the touch.

“Better than what exactly? I’ve always been like this” he mocked.

Earth grabbed alpha to spin him around to face him. His eyes darted to the ground as alpha stepped back so earth would stop touching him. It was weirdly too caring, too affectionate for whatever volatile and destructive feelings alpha was clearly having.

“Well, if you’re just like this, then we will have to take care of that won’t we?” Earth stepped closer, leaning over to match his height. The grip got harsher, a hint of claws over alphas clothing. It was the only way earth knew that would actually get some kind of reaction out of him. Headstrong and stubborn but can be easily manipulated with a sturdy hand.

“And what the fuck are you going to do?”

Alpha gave a growl and yanked his arm from earths hand. He left it at that, stormed away from the interaction to contemplate what his next move was. The stubborn, more reactionary side wanted to lock himself in his room and not think about it anymore. He hated earths smugness, like he assumed alpha would just show up like a dog who has been called. He wanted to lay in his bed and laugh at the idea that earth would wait for him just for alpha to never arrive.

But he wanted it. Something deeper yearned for the harsh touch, wanted to be used and degraded in order to quell the awful thoughts about his own attitude. He knew he could be a lot sometimes, he tried to control it but he couldn’t. The rough punishments helped to diminish some of the guilt, at least until the next incident.

Leaves danced at his feet as alpha kept his head down, walking back to the ghouls building. He had that static feeling in his nerves as every sense felt heightened from the weird amount of anxiety. A tingling in the back of his skull when he knew he had done something wrong, that he needed to amend his mistakes even if apologizing was something he didn’t know how to do properly.

His body stopped in front of earths door, not even entirely consciously. The door opened without a fight, alpha sure if it put up any resistance like some of the old locks that he would’ve regained consciousness and turned on his heel. Earth hadn’t returned yet, the comforter on his bed was left thrown to the side with his pajamas still hanging halfway out of his hamper like he had haphazardly thrown them there.

The room smelled of pine and cloves, something that instantly put alphas mind a bit more at ease. The thought of running away immediately faded as he sat on the bed and fiddled with the blanket. He wasn’t sure what to do, how exactly to wait for earth to return for whatever punishment he was planning. It felt weird to undress yet, or do anything sexual. Something about the whole ordeal didn’t even make him horny exactly, it didn’t feel like sex, just a chore to make his head stop feeling cluttered.

Alpha fiddled with his fingers and rummaged through the bedside drawer to wait for earths return. He at least decided to pull out the lube, the other toys and things alike felt odd to touch. He didn’t want to expect any of that, it wasn’t his first rodeo, far from it but he still didn’t want to assume.

The drawer was slammed shut once he heard earth fiddle with the door handle and creak into the room.

“Didn’t know if you’d show up” earth smiled. He seemed happy to see alpha, no longer angry, if he ever was actually upset. But by now whatever asked him to come here had seemingly dissipated into something happier. It was nice to be wanted.

“Yeah,” alpha didn’t know how to respond in any proper sense. Much above asking to be punished but having enough humility to know why he was there.

“You know the drill, go ahead and undress for me celosia” alpha smiled a bit at the nickname as he hopped off the bed to pull off his shirt. It was a small red, yellow and orange flower earth had seen once, said it reminded him of alpha and his sharp personality.

Alpha shucked off his pants, looking up at earth to question if he wanted his boxers off too. Earth just gave him a silent nod and sat on the edge of his bed. A sick sense of shame flicked flames in his belly. Sure earth had seen him naked a dozen times, but alpha wasn’t even hard yet, just trying to psyche himself up for whatever he was going to get instead of feeling whatever odd mix of guilt that didn’t seem to go away.

“Over your lap?” Alpha asked, finally walking towards the bed.

“No, want you to lay down for me”

Alpha complied, crawling onto the bed and laying his head on the soft pillows, looking straight up at the ceiling. He heard earth sift through his drawer, assuming he was going to tie him up, or maybe strap a toy to his cock and leave him to beg for forgiveness.

But the buzzing never came, the harsh rope never came. Earth placed his hand on alphas cheek, swiping the hair from his face.

“I’m not mad at you, you know that right?” Earth placed a kiss on his forehead and grabbed the lube from the side table where alpha had placed it, he popped open the cap and drizzled a small amount onto his fingers.

“What?”

“You’re on edge, usually you’re excited to be punished. I’m not mad at you, I’m not here to punish you”

Alpha sat up onto his elbows and watched as earth rubbed the liquid between his fingers to warm it up a little bit and get them properly coated. What did he mean he wasn’t here to punish him? Why else would he want alpha here?

“Then why did you tell me to come?”

“I wanted to spend time with you, I don’t get to just be with you alone very often” earth said like it was obvious, he pushed alphas legs up for better access to him, “I’m going to touch you now, ok?”

Alpha nodded as earth inserted a finger into him, it didn’t feel like anything yet, but alpha wasn’t used to anyone going slow with him. Usually prep was rushed due to desperation or punishment purposes, hell, when he was really bad he didn’t get prep at all sometimes. The hesitation to immediately start with two fingers was strange to him.

“You don’t have to do this-“

“I want to. I want to be with you alpha, I want to take care of you”

After a minute earth inserted another finger and started to actually finger him in earnest, he searched for that sweet bundle of nerves inside of him, crooking his fingers so that alpha could relax a little bit from the pleasure. Alpha gave a hum and a curse when he finally found it.

“There you go, love it when I get to make you feel good”

Alphas eyes fluttered closed when earth inserted a third into him. Earth was bigger, needed a decent amount of stretching for it to be comfortable to take, and alpha was grateful for the consideration.

“Shit- earth are you sure? Haven’t I been bad? Don’t I deserve to be smacked around a bit?”

“You don’t deserve to be hurt alpha, no matter what you do”

Alpha felt like he had been punched in the gut, wetness threatening the corners of his eyes. It’s not something he had ever heard before. Alpha was used to being awful and getting dragged away to be used like an object to atone for his actions. He did deserve it, right? He deserved to be treated badly as a reprimand for acting out. Right?

“I do” alpha choked out a bit as earth finally removed his fingers and grabbed the lube again to pour onto his cock. He had undressed at some point, shucking his clothes off unceremoniously while alpha rode out the small bits of pleasure from being fingered open.

“No you don’t, you deserve to be loved and taken care of, please let me do that for you alpha” earths tone was practically a whisper at this point, like if he spoke too loudly that alpha would actually cry in earnest. “Are you alright? We can stop if you want”

“No! No, just-“ alpha couldn’t ask for it, but earth understood anyways.

Earth slowly sunk into him, grabbing his hips and thumbing along the soft skin to attempt to make him a bit more comfortable with a compassionate touch. Alpha gave a choked whimper as he stretched around earth cock.

“There you go, you take it so well, always look so good on my cock sweetheart” earth gave a small kiss to his chest, trailing kisses up to his lips while alpha panted and tried to refrain from starting to lose himself enough to beg for more.

“You look prettier when I’m taking care of you, don’t like it when others are mean, you look so good when I get to treat you like this”

Earth barely got another thrust in before alpha came onto his stomach with a cry. A tear ran down his cheek, lip taken tightly between his teeth to stifle his whines as earth stroked him through his orgasm. It was embarrassing, earth hadn’t even gotten anything before alpha had came like a pathetic virgin who’s never been treated softly before.

“Fuck- earth I’m so sorry, you can keep going if you want or I’ll blow you-“

“No, that was very hot baby, don’t think I’ve ever had someone cum on my cock without fucking them before” earth gave him a smile and a sweet laugh, placing another kiss on his lips to try and soothe his anxiety.

“Are you sure? Please let me get you off”

“I don’t need to get off, I just wanted to take care of you alpha, I’m satisfied”

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ghostiebeech · 1 month ago

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ghostiebeech · 1 month ago

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kinktober ; day three, temperature play ❤︎ rain/dew

contains: rain's tits, raindrop in love (and they're t4t), light bondage

approx. 1k words. ghostober list compiled by @kroas-adtam !!

“Dew…” Rain begins cautiously as he watches his mate re-enter the room with a cup full of ice. “Dew, what are you planning?”

“Nothing that you have to worry your pretty little head about, Rainy,” the fire ghoul assures him, plucking the ice cube nearest from the top and holding it in his fingers, watching raptly as the ice begins to melt, dripping a long line of water down past his wrist. “Just wanna try something, that’s all.”

Rain lets loose a shaky exhale as Dewdrop moves closer, sitting down right next to him on the bedspread. “I trust you,” he nods, flexing his wrists against the handcuffs that bind him to his own headboard.

“I know you do,” Dew smiles. He reaches out his free hand to stroke a finger against Rain’s cheek. A chasteness that is very much not replicated as he lowers the hand to push the straps of the water ghoul’s bralette off of his shoulders, freeing his tits to let them spill freely out from the band of the small top. “I love you, Rainy.”

Rain’s heart melts quicker than the ice in Dew’s hand. “I love you too– Oh, fuck!” Rain cuts himself off as Dew rests the half melted ice cube directly on his nipple, arms yanking against the restraints as he tries desperately to move away from the frozen block. He now understands why Dew tied him up in the first place. “Dew, Dew, Dew, Dew–” he chants, breathing heavily as the cold begins to creep more towards pain than shock.

Instantly, Dew withdraws his hand but the respite he allows Rain doesn’t last long. He moves the cube to the other side, holding it against Rain’s other nipple as the water ghouls squirms under him, gasping out at the sudden cold. “Just give it a couple of minutes and you’ll love it, Rainy, I promise,” he coos as the ice melts completely in his hands, struggling not to laugh as Rain wrenches his head back to look up at him with wild eyes.

“I’d fucking better,” Rain pants, playing up his annoyance as he glares at his mate. In reality, he loves this kind of play. The only reason he’s acting like this is because Dew sprung it on him, and Rain can’t help but give him a hard time about it.

“Aw, don’t glare at me, baby,” Dew teases. “You know it turns me on.” He reaches back into the cup and holds the second ice cube above Rain’s chest, watching with rapt attention as the droplets of cold water drip onto the exposed flat of the water ghoul’s sternum. He moves his hand until it’s hovering directly over one of Rain’s tits. “You think I could get a bullseye if I tried hard enough?”

If looks could kill, Dew would be six feet under with a tombstone reading Here likes a fucking idiot by now. But unfortunately for Rain, Dew likes being looked at like that, he’s admitted to that himself. And so, despite Rain’s nonverbal threats, the teasing continues.

His entire body jolts as the first drop hits his nipple directly in the centre. “Fuck, that’s cold,” he breathes, trying—and failing—to stop a soft moan from slipping out before he speaks.

Dew smirks and lowers his hand again. He rests the one holding the cube directly on Rain’s tit, shifting his fingers ever so slightly to swirl the ice cube around the water ghoul’s areola, occasionally flicking it back over the hardened bud of his nipple. As Dew does this, his other hand comes up to play with Rain’s other tit, pinching and squeezing the frozen skin as he dips his mouth down to steal a kiss from the water ghoul’s mouth. They both moan into it, Rain pretending that the main cause of his pleasure is the slight swell of Dew’s engorged clit pressing against his thigh and not the ice against his skin.

Rain whines when Dew pulls his mouth away from his own, but any protest that was about to come out of his parted lips is masked by a loud gasp as the fire ghoul’s hot tongue replaces the ice cube on his chest. The ice cube is quickly switched to start rubbing against the other side of Rain’s chest as Dew lathes his tongue over the frozen skin of Rain’s tit. The switch between hot and cold was so intense that Rain now feels dizzy with the contrast of it all, chest heaving as he tries to regulate his breathing and control the moans that he can’t help but continue to let out.

“Dew,” he gasps wetly, rubbing his thighs together and moaning as he realises just how wet this little stunt of the fire ghoul’s has made him. “Fuck, touch me, please, please, please, please, please!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Dew barely lifts his head to reply, his voice muffled against the swell of Rain’s tits.

The second ice cube has long since melted against Rain’s rising body temperature as Dew continues to make him more and more flustered, so it’s easy for the fire ghoul to reach a hand down into Rain’s silky sleep shorts to pet at the slippery mess coating his folds.

“Oh,” Rain moans softly, mouth dropping open in surprise as he makes eye contact with his mate. “Your hand’s so cold…”

Dew pauses his movements for a moment, beginning to withdraw his hand. “Is that a problem? I can switch hands if you–”

“No!” Rain gasps. If he had the use of his hands he would have reached out to grab Dew’s wrist to stop him from pulling away. “No it’s– It’s good. Keep going, please.”

“Good,” Dew smirks, leaning up to quickly press his lips against Rain’s. “You just sit back and relax, Rainy,” he says, making a point to flick his finger over Rain’s t-dick and evoke a gasp and a broken moan from the water ghoul. “I’ll take care of you.”

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ghostiebeech · 1 month ago

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Mountain: Why are there little handprints all over the walls?

Swiss, whispering: Why are there little handprints all over the walls?

Phantom, whispering: Because I have little hands.

Swiss: Because he has little hands.

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ghostiebeech · 1 month ago

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They're done! I really want to try and make prints again as it's been years and I've never felt like I was very good at making whole posters. Dipping my toe back in with these silly chibis of each Papa with every Ghoul they've had. Perhaps they can also work as a guide for those wanting to learn all the characters? I added in a fair amount of little references with the Ghoul's poses so it'll be interesting to see what you guys figure out and notice!

The prints are on pre-order and won't ship out until November. I've put up 25 of each to start with but if they get low on stock I'll keep adding more until I have them printed and then it'll be a set amount in stock.

Also a reminder about the stickers of every Ghost Papa and Ghoul that I made earlier this year that are also available as customisable badges! Thank you so much to everyone who already bought them and got Etsy to list them as a 'bestseller' for a while. They're still up and in stock.

EDIT: someone informed me Delta was not in Secondo's era so sorry little water ghoul but he got edited out of that drawing.

Characters featured on the prints and are also available on stickers and badges: Papa Emeritus I / Primo, Papa Emeritus II / Secondo, Papa Emerirus III / Terzo, Papa Emeritus IV / Cardinal Copia, Aether, Air, Alpha / Fire, Aurora, Chain / Water, Cirrus, Cowbell, Cumulus, Delta, Dewdrop / Sodo, Earth, Ifrit, Ivy, Lake, Mist, Mountain, Omega / Quintessence, Pebble, Phantom, Phil / Special Ghoul, Rain, Sunshine, Swiss, Zephy.

I can’t link to my Etsy without risking Tumblr hiding the post from tag search results, but the link is in my pinned post, my carrd, I’m emptymasks on Etsy. Reblogs help support artists more than likes ❤️

[ID: Four landscape drawings, one for each of Ghost's Papas and the Ghouls that were in the band with them while they were the lead singer. Each Papa is in the center with each of their ghouls standings to their sides. Every character has their name written above or below them, on brightly coloured backgrounds for each Papa's robe colour. Also, individual pixel art chibi drawings of 69 characters from various European musicals (listed above) that are available as stickers. These drawings are also available as badges where they are placed inside circles to show what they will look like as physical button badges, some of them with plain colour backgrounds and some with 1-3 different pride flags as examples of how you can customise the backgrounds.]

For those who want to know what the little references in the prints are and don't want to guess, they're under the cut:

Omega can be a stompy boy when he's playing guitar, Alpha likes to throw up peace signs, Air is very found of the rock horns hand symbol, there's one close-up photo of Lake out there where you can clearly see his black sclera contacts and he's doing double 'horns' hand symbol, Mountain infamously takes his shoes off when playing the drums and leaves them on the stage at the site of his drumkit, Dewdrop likes to like.. most things including his guitar and his picks and sometimes his own hand, Pebble liked to hand out his drumsticks at the end of shows by dropkicking them into the crowd, Omega wore a flower tucked into his guitar strap during one show and Terzo constantly flirts with him more than other ghouls, Delta is suspected to be the ghoul that attempted to kick an audience member off stage when they climbed onstage and attempted to kiss Terzo, Zephyr was the only band member and only keyboardist who sat down while playing, the special ghoul played by Tobias wore a nametag 'Phil' in an interview, Swiss constantly is showing all his teethies with his smiles and always wiggling and moving around, Aether and Dewdrop often interact with Dew teasing/bothering Aether, Dew and Rain also often interact with Dew constantly reaching to grab his neck and attempt to kiss him, aaaand I think that's everything I intentionally included other than just generally tried to get the poses and expressions to match the personality we've seen from each ghoul.

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ghostiebeech · 2 months ago

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this is a poem

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ghostiebeech · 2 months ago

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Cardinal Copia - Halloween 2024

It’s finally spooky season folks! I loved doing the Impera pumpkin ghouls last year, so this year I’ll be doing the Prequelle era, starting with our beloved Cardi

{Impera Pumpkin Ghouls | More Artwork | Socials and Prints}

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ghostiebeech · 11 months ago

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Just a little something for Kenny (@kamonart )! They said Rulti and I said well don't mind if I do.

I love you so much! I hope this gives you just a little something to focus on for a little bit 🖤🖤

They love eachother y'all it just is what it is. Their relationship just hits different

Everything

Rain can't pull his eyes away from him, the gravitational pull like the moon to the tide. Swiss is the moon to him, the sun too harsh anf blinding. Swiss is a cool light, deceptively soft considering the power he holds over the water ghoul.

He's beautiful. Not in the way Dewdrop is, not the neck snapping angelic features of the fire ghoul. Swiss is beautiful like a natural disaster, the way a tornado cuts through the trees, the way a tsunami pulls out and surges forward. He's awe inspiring. Deadly. Raw power coursing through his veins and Rain aches to feel just what he's capable of.

He sinks his teeth into his lip when he watches him move, deadly grace, silent footfalls. He's smoke twisting through corridors and Rain's lungs ache for a taste, to pull him in and hold him there until he chokes his name with his head tipped back.

Swiss knows he's being watched, likes it when Rain's eyes drag over his body like claws, likes glancing over meeting hungry black eyes, a bottomless lake Swiss would gladly lose himself in.

He crooks his finger and beckons him forward, tethered by some unseen force that Rain can't seem to refuse. It makes Swiss' head spin when Rain doesn't hesitate to come when he calls. The one usually so in control, so eerily steady and commanding respect without ever having to ask for it.

Yet he hits his knees for Swiss time and time again, drops like a stone and begs so sweetly for him, unabashedly baring his throat, rocking back on his heels and dripping.

Rain glances up at him, into gold eyes burning, some kind of blasphemy, some holy light trapped in the eyes of a demon, but Rain would gladly worship here, take communion from his body and devote his everything to him.

Swiss makes him feel small in ways he can't really explain. He doesn't tower over him like Mountain does, his body is wider than his, but it's something else. Lighting striking with lethal precision. He doesn't have to be all that much bigger, hes in control and he knows it. And when he smirks, that sharp twist of his lips, Rain gets it.

Swiss makes him feel like prey.

He shakes under the intensity of the revelation. Part of him wants to run, make Swiss work for it, make him chase and catch, part of him wants Swiss to earn him.

But he already has, more times than he can count and in more ways than there are numbers for. He won't run, there's no point. Swiss already has him in his jaws.

Rain breathes in the lightning scent of him, that wild electricity that sends jolts through his veins, that makes him gasp without Swiss even to need to lay a finger on him. Swiss' laugh curls around and in him, wisps of smoke twirling around his bloodstream, marking every single cell, until every atom bears his name.

He leans close, teases with an almost kiss, just enough for Rain to taste his breath, to feel his lips shape his name.

"Rain..."

His eyes shut as the sound of his name spilling from Swiss' lips curls hot in his belly. He's beautiful, so beautiful it hurts, stabs straight to his heart and bleeds him dry.

"What do you want, Rain?"

Anything...everything he wants to say but his words catch in his throat when Swiss runs his nose over his pulse and then kisses his way back down it. His mouth would bring all of Hell to its knees.

Swiss presses closer, let's Rain feel everything, let's him know he wants, needs, him too.

"What do you want?" He asks again, softer, quiet, tilting his head to meet Rains bliss black eyes. "Tell me, let me give it to you."

His fingers find their way up to curve around the shape of Swiss' hips, holding on for dear life because if he walked away now Rain's sure he'd fall to a million pieces.

He swallows down a moan, a plea, a prayer for deliverance and he tries to answer, tries to make it make sense outside of his mind.

He wants to say everything just give me everything!

Rain presses up and licks over the seam of Swiss' lips, blood on fire and cock twitching in his pants.

Everything, he wants to say. And he does, begs for everything and then some, the entire world held there pressed against him.

"You, I just want you."

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ghostiebeech · 1 year ago

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A Jester's Token

HEY SO. I wrote a thing. Based on @oblivionsdream's Knight/Jester OCs, who are SUPER AMAZING, which you can find here.

Thank you for your wonderful art!! And also accidentally inspiring a jester obsession in me 🤡

No warnings, contains a little suggestiveness, 3.4k words 💖

The grounds were alive with activity. The King doted upon his sons, and now with his second eldest’s twentieth birthday only a scant few days away, the celebrations were in full swing.

The prince, as was his wont, had demanded a tournament to celebrate the day of his birth. The King, as always, had been unable to refuse. And the Knight was looking forward to a week of respite; of celebration and jousting and fun instead of training and war council meetings.

Typically, he tried to remain impassive and stoic with his fellow knights. It was what was expected of him as the King’s champion, after all, and besides: it added an edge to his demeanour that meant orders were obeyed. The other knights weren’t to know that beneath his shining, shuttered helm he was wondering if the stable cat had birthed her kittens yet.

Still he kept his head high as he strode across the grounds, heading towards the armoury where he had left his sword that morning to be honed and polished. Several other knights turned to glance at him as he passed: one, he noticed, standing immediately to attention as he did.

The deference was useful, he supposed, but he hoped it did not extend to the tournament itself. It would be a dull affair if everybody he encountered was afraid of the King’s champion knight.

As he approached the armoury, a familiar noise perked up his ears. He found his steps faltering, his sure stride suddenly broken.

Not everybody was afraid of him.

He turned just in time to see the grinning face of the Jester as he sauntered over, his motley - brand new for the tournament in festive greens and reds - lit up in the dazzling summer sunshine. His hair haloed from his head, sticking in yellow waves from beneath his cap’n’bells. His eyes - startlingly bright, one dark, one nearly gold - shone with excitement.

“Good morning, Sir!” he said cheerily, “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Lovelier for you, the Knight didn’t say.

“It is indeed,” he said. “Perfect for a tournament.”

“Perfect for a party,” the Jester countered. “I called into the ale tent on the way here, have you seen how stocked it is? Forget the tournament, I fear our Lord means to drown us. Can you swim in that?” he pinged a fingernail against the Knight’s plate.

The Knight rolled his eyes, forgoing a response.

“Although,” the Jester continued merrily, “I must admit, these events always make me laugh.”

“Oh?”

“Come,” the Jester said, “Oh ho - here I am, the picture of virile manhood! Beware my powerful—” he gave a short, sharp thrust. “Lance.”

The Knight bit his tongue to stop himself from laughing. “You have a filthy mind.”

“You should hear me talk about maypoles.”

“I would really rather not.”

“I can do some wonderful things with ribbons, you know.”

“Anything useful in a tournament?”

“Depends what you need,” the Jester said, catching him with a sidelong glance. “I’m very good with knots.”

The Knight swallowed, saying nothing.

“Well!” The Jester said, clearly unphased. “I am afraid I am wanted by— well, by everyone. Which makes it such a shame that I’d rather spend my morning following you around. Nevermind.” His smile twitched a little, before settling back into a grin. “Good luck, my Knight!”

And with that, he was off. The Knight watched him leave, swaying through the crowds with his typically fluid movement. While the Knight would be entering competitions, the Jester would be entertaining in a much different way: joking and turning somersaults and charming the King and his guests. He even had a role in the joust alongside the announcer, riling up the crowds and mocking the competitors.

With luck, the Knight would be able to watch him perform. He enjoyed watching the Jester show off, and he loved his jokes, not that he would ever allow the Jester himself to realise that. The first time they had met he’d been forced to remove himself lest he make an utter fool of himself, and since then the Jester had taken him as a challenge, when he wasn’t making a game of flirting with him.

With a sigh, and a final glance at the Jester’s departing figure, he walked on towards the armoury. He noticed Sir Rowan lingering just outside, standing beside Lady Felicity - one of the Queen’s Ladies in Waiting. Without thinking, he called out a greeting to his fellow knight.

As he approached, he realised far too late that what he thought was simply a polite conversation between knight and lady was something far more intimate. Sir Rowan’s head was tilted just so, Lady Felicity leaning in a little too close. Their hands, he realised, were linked.

Shit. But it was too late now; he had already hailed Sir Rowan and he couldn’t very well turn heel and run. Lady Felicity quickly snatched her hands away, her face mottling in a sweet, pink blush before giving him a slightly lopsided curtsey, bidding them both farewell and quickly rushing off.

As The Knight drew closer, he noticed a scrap of fabric clasped in Rowan’s hand. He pretended not to have seen it as Rowan quickly tucked it into his breastplate.

A favour, then. He hadn’t realised that Sir Rowan and Lady Felicity were courting; although most of their time spent together would have been at banquets and feasts, where the Knight’s attention was more often than not focused on their entertainment and very little else. It was terribly improper to ask Sir Rowan for more information. Even as his friend, he would not push for information too intimate to share; certainly not while Rowan and Lady Felicity were still in the first, tentative steps of the most delicate of dances.

He engaged Rowan in brief conversation, deeply aware of the moment he had managed to ruin. He wished him good luck - making him blush - then headed inside the armoury where he collected his sword.

He couldn't help but peer back as he left. Rowan, now alone, had taken the favour from his breastplate and was tugging it through his fingers. It appeared to be cream-coloured silk: a handkerchief or scarf, perhaps. Rowan's face had gone red.

Something tugged in the Knight's chest. It was a sweet, deeply romantic gesture. It would leave Rowan with no doubt at all about Lady Felicity’s intentions towards him. And, of course, it was furiously lucky: any man blessed with such a token would be sure to do well, especially from one they loved.

The tugging grew more urgent, joined by a leaden feeling in the Knights stomach. He would have no such token. Oh, he was sure that many members of the court would accept him should he attempt to woo them - courtly favours included - but it wasn't any of them he really wanted.

“I would rather spend my day following you around.”

The Knight’s face heated beneath the metal. His heart swelled. Whatever the Jester’s intentions towards him, his feelings were not the sort that spurred a man to give a love token. His were the feelings that spurred a quick fumble behind the stables - perhaps several quick fumbles, judging by the lewdness of the Jester’s tongue. It was no more than that.

Or, more likely, it was even less than that. The Knight was aware of the reputation he had carefully curated at court, and he knew that the Jester had taken him as a challenge. He was just another joke. The Jester had never even seen his face, hadn't seen the scars, didn't know the stories behind them.

He was just teasing.

The Knight tried to shake the thought from his head, fluttering the great plume that burst from the crown of his helm. Chasing such thoughts - be they of fumbles or fools - would get him unseated in the joust and begging for mercy in the duel.

He turned towards the stables, trudging down the muddy path. The earth had been turned by the sheer volume of guests and carts and horses, and was now a sucking, muddy mess.

There was an oddly metallic clink beneath his boot. He paused. He lifted his foot. In the centre of a perfect footprint was a mud-splattered, but unmistakably golden, bell.

There was only one person who wore bells like that.

The Knight picked it up without thinking, desperately wishing he had something to clean it with. He rubbed off as much muck as he could with a fingertip, watching as it glinted in the light. As he turned it in his hand - terribly small against his huge palm - it jingled merrily.

He swallowed and closed his fingers around it, squeezing it tight.

The stables would wait. As a high-ranking man, he had been given a private tent on the edge of the grounds - somewhere he could clean and rest without traipsing through the castle to his chambers. He headed there, pulling the flaps tight shut behind him before unfurling his hand.

The bell had left a neat little indent in his palm. A curving, teasing smile embedded into his skin.

He placed it reverently on the wooden table at the far side of the tent before shooting a final, nervous glance towards the entry. And then he removed his helm.

The air felt cool and good against his burning cheeks. He shook out his hair, tied into a low queue to keep it out of his face, and stared down at the bell. It felt as if it were the only object in the room; perhaps the world.

Mindlessly, he took the cloth he used to tend his sword from the chest beside the table and gently began to clean the little golden thing. Mud had even managed to get inside the bell, and he carefully cleaned away as much as he could until it was shining and jingling once more.

He rolled it in his palm. It felt hot, like a tiny lump of coal, like a nugget of forge-warmed iron.

The Knight thought of Sir Rowan and Lady Felicity.

He would need luck, after all. Skill he had in abundance, but luck? Luck was harder to judge; a tip of the scales that, at present, could fall either way.

Of course, traditionally, a token needed to be a gift. But many Knights - both in tournaments and in battle - found luck where they could snatch it. A sword that had never slipped from their grasp, a tunic worn during a lucky win, a shield taken to war that deflected a killing blow. Perhaps a bell - so small and yet so weighty - could be like those. It was luck, after all, that helped him find it when so many people had stepped over it.

He turned back to the chest and searched through it until he found what he was looking for; the spare ties he kept on hand in case his snapped during the tournament. He typically used them to fasten his gauntlets, and while it was thin the leather was tough and sturdy: perfect for what he needed. Carefully, he threaded the bell onto the strap, ensured it wouldn’t slip off and then twisted the strap around the hilt of his sword, securing it tight.

The Knight gave the sword an experimental shake. The bell jingled against the hilt. He didn’t bother to suppress his smile: it wasn’t as if anyone could see him. The noise set a thrill through him. He would be the first to admit that he was not a musical man, but the ringing of the little bell felt like an angelic chorus just for him.

Besides, he thought, as he sheathed the sword once more: if it didn’t bring him luck, the noise may distract an opponent long enough for him to land a good hit.

He took a few moments to gather himself, taking a long drink of water from the jug atop the table, wiping down his face, and re-tying his hair before donning his helm once more. He pulled on his gloves, too, and now with his hand now gripped tight around the hilt of his sword, he exited the tent.

Outside, the noise was growing more urgent as more people gathered to watch the show. Now buoyed by the token hanging from his sword, he strode with pride towards the centre of the grounds where he intended to take part in the first single-combat duel of the day. It was likely still a little early, but no doubt he wouldn’t be the only one keen to begin and could at least find someone to spar against to pass the time.

He was dodging around a lad from the kennels and a pack of exuberant dogs when he heard a shout from behind.

“Knight! My Knight!”

He hastily shoved his sword behind his back as he turned, watching the Jester bounce across the field towards him.

“I need your skills,” he said, as he slid smoothly to a halt beside him.

“Oh?” The Knight was glad for his helmet, now: the jester couldn’t see him blush.

“Have you seen a bell?” The Jester tugged at the frontmost horn of his cap, which was indeed bell-less. “I’m missing one.”

The Knight gripped his sword harder. He could feel the distinct shape of the bell through his gloves, praying it would not ring and give him away.

“No,” he said, his face so hot he was amazed his helm did not begin to steam, “I cannot say I have.”

“Oh.” The Jester gave him a crestfallen look that was so heartbreakingly sincere that for a moment, the Knight nearly relented. “I suppose it will turn up… or the King will fund me for another, I am sure.”

His eyes darted down, as if taking the Knight in for the first time. His expression turned dark. The Knight found himself standing a little straighter.

“And where are you off to, my chivalrous wonder? That’s—” he peered around the Knight’s back, “—an extremely long sword you have there.”

The Knight rolled his eyes, not that the Jester could see the gesture.

“You have realised,” he said, keeping his tone even, “where we are, yes?”

The Jester gave a dramatic twirl as if assessing his surroundings. “We are standing in the mud,” he grinned.

“Typically,” the Knight said, ignoring him, “A Knight takes part in a tournament. I intend to test my luck in the duel.”

“Luck?” The Jester said, “Not skill? Although—” he gave him another of those long looks, “—I suspect you have plenty of skill in swordplay.”

He gave the Knight a tight, cattish smile, his tongue wetting his lips as he waited for the Knight to respond. The Knight, once he had finally regained control of his lips, could only manage a single word.

“Quite.”

“Well,” the Jester grinned cockily. “I would surely love to see you in action. Lead on, good Sir Knight.”

The Jester looped his hand around his arm, gripping him tight. The Knight was utterly unable to resist, lost in a sudden moment of deep regret that he was so armoured, unable to feel that touch against his skin.

Arm in arm they headed across the grounds towards the ring. The Jester joked and chatted and flirted as they walked, commenting again on that marvellously large blade, but the Knight could barely hear him over the rush of his own spinning thoughts.

He kept his free hand gripped on the sword, over the bell. The Jester couldn’t know.

The Jester finally released him as they reached the ring. Even though the touch had been to the plate steel of his armour and not the skin beneath, the Knight still missed having him hanging from his arm.

“You better win,” he said, stepping back. “There are a dozen other things I could be doing right now, and I refuse to tie my lot to a man who cannot even win a duel for me.”

The Knight’s heart stuttered in his chest. For me. The Jester was watching him, expectantly. And then his eyes widened, as if remembering something.

“Of course!” He said, face splitting into a grin. “You need a token. As you said, to give you luck enough to win. Ah— here…” he reached up, and before the Knight could stop him pulled another bell from his hat. “What’s another bell?” he said with a shrug. “I was lopsided anyway. Here…”

He produced a silk ribbon as if from nowhere, quickly looped it through the bell, and tied it with swift, dexterous fingers to the Knight’s belt.

“There,” he said. “I told you I was good with knots. Now you’ll win.”

The Jester stretched up on the tip of his bell-topped toes, placed a hand to the Kight’s shoulder for balance, and flicked his helmet’s plume with a single, long finger.

“Good luck.”

And with no warning at all, he placed a kiss to the warm metal of the Knight’s helm. Beneath, the Knight felt as if he could no longer breathe, his heart launching a battle of its own.

“I…” he said, gathering himself. “Thank you.”

The Jester gave him another grin, trailing a finger across the spot where his lips had been moments before.

“You’re welcome.”

***

The Jester leaned casually against a stack of crates, watching the Knight perform with genuine interest. The interest, of course, had very little to do with the fight itself - he wanted him to win, sure, but the minutiae of the fight were nothing compared to the strength of his arms, the broadness of his shoulders, or the exceptional noises he made when he struck a particularly good hit.

He fiddled mindlessly with one of the horns of his cap as he watched the Knight take another decisive swing. A hint of gold glinted through the air as he did, catching the light like a comet.

The Jester grinned to himself. No wonder his Knight was being so stiff as they walked towards the ring. What a sneaky little secret; not the sort he had come to expect from him. It was amusing, and quite sweet, too. Anyone would be lucky to have the Knight be their champion, to have him take their token. But the one he had chosen - the one he had taken for himself - was little more than a minstrel’s bell.

He was glad he had stumbled upon the thought to give him a token himself. Now the Knight would know that he would have given him one, had he asked, and even better: now he had twice the luck.

The Knight swung around again, the bell jingling, harmonising with the one the Jester himself had tied to his hip.

Thrice the luck, the Jester thought, if you counted the kiss.

The Knight ducked, dodged and lunged. The Jester watched, lips quirked into a smile.

When the Knight won - a feat which did not surprise the Jester at all - he straightened up, set his shoulders, and looked towards him.

And then his helm snapped down, taking in the hilt of his sword and the bell hanging from it. The Jester was almost surprised that he couldn’t see the Knight blush through his helmet.

The Jester too glanced downwards to the hilt of the sword. He let his gaze linger there. Then he dragged his eyes up, up the Knight’s body, over his chest, to the place where he desperately wished he could properly see his eyes.

He heaved himself away from the crates and waved. The Knight sagged, only a little. A small moment of recognition and relief. A spark of understanding, shared between them.

But the Jester could not stand there all day, no matter how much he wanted to. He shot the Knight another grin - his best grin, saved just for him - blew him a kiss, and swayed away towards the ale tent.

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ghostiebeech · 1 year ago

Text

Phantom in bold colours. Pitt artist pens and white gel pen on black paper.

Original (source):

Those colours! I had to draw that.

Progress under here:

That took me waaaaay longer than it should have. Ooops. Well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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ghostiebeech · 1 year ago

Text

if i see ONE MORE POST of "the ghouls"/"the boys" and ITS ONLY DEW/RAIN/AEON/SWISS IM GONNA LOSE IT

WHERES MY HUSBAND YOU FUCKERS

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ghostiebeech · 1 year ago

Note

Talking more on big dick mountain to the point he has to sit down due to lightheadedness. Do you think this has made this man a pillow princess? Just lay there and let his partner ride him?

And the idea of him blacking out a little when he finishes is just AHHH

Look. All of this is good stuff. Great, even. I (w)hole heartedly endorse it.

But I don't know what happened between opening the word doc and typing the last sentence.

Let the people decide.

Kinktober Day (insert date because I can't remember): Dry-Humping.

Pairing: Ifrit/Mountain

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dry humping, obviously. Kitchen Duty, Big Dick Mountain, Teasing.

Summary: I don't even know where to start with this one.

(@forlorn-crows come rescue your man, he's going through it right now)

He has to take several minutes when he wakes up that morning. A half-remembered dream of limbs and laughter had tented his blankets and he knows from experience that if he gets up now, his vision will darken around the edges and he'll end up right back on his bed again anyway.

He sighs in exasperation and reaches for a bottle of water, awkwardly propping himself up to take a few sips to wash away the taste of morning breath in his mouth. The clock tells him he has twenty minutes before he has to be in the kitchen getting breakfast going, which is nowhere near enough time to rub one out and wake up again when he inevitably knocks himself out again in the afterglow.

He sighs again and finishes his water, frowning at his dick like that's going to help the situation.

____

He unlocks the backdoor ten minutes late but he still beats Ifrit because Ifrit is never on time anyway. His runs always seem to take the perfect amount of time to let Mountain do all of the opening tasks; prep trays of pastries, bring down all the chairs, get the coffee going and boof out all the big bags of pre-made into the mixers. Behind him, his vine of a tail flicks on the big industrial ovens and starts cracking egg after egg, splitting off into several smaller strands to toss shells and pour cups of milk into the bowl.

He's in the middle of refilling the sanitization bottles when he hears the side door to the dumpsters loudly announce Ifrit 's pathetic attempt at sneaking in. The fire ghouls rounds the corner with a guilty look on his face and a torso gleaming with sweat in the artificial lighting.

"Sup." He says, hardly giving Mountain a second glance as he beelines for the gallon container of milk left on the counter and unscrews the cap to heft it up and start chugging the remains.

Absolutely vile.

"Shirt and apron." Mountain tells him, checking the time and very studiously not looking at Ifrit. "Wash your hands when you're done."

"M'not a kit." Ifrit complains, pulling away from the milk with a whine to his voice. Mountain permits himself to look up and give Ifrit a withering stare. The lowest he dares to go is the froth of foam just over Ifrit's upper lip and the fire ghoul lasciviously licks it away with a gleam in his eye before Mountain can turn his head again.

"Ooh," Ifrit says mockingly, chucking the now empty container in the trash. "Sorry Daddy, I'll be good."

Mountain's face twitches in disgust, even as his cock kicks in his pants, all too happy to remind him of the orgasm he'd had to deny himself such a short time ago. Ifrit brushes by him, much closer than necessary and the heat of his bare torso pressed against Mountain's back is enough to make him shiver. Ifrit rounds the corner, tail flicking mischievously and Mountain does a side shuffle to the sinks so he can splash cold water on his face.

"Kay," Ifrit says, stepping back into view with a wicked smirk. "Let's get cracking."

"I hate you." Mountain says when he catches the text written on the shirt, stretched so tight over Ifrit's pecs that he can see the gleam of his piercings through it.

"Want a free sample?" Ifrit asks cheekily, circling suggestively over the O of Orgasm Donor, located conveniently over his nipple.

"Wash your fucking hands." Mountain mutters. "Not the kitchen, you little freak."

"Oh, rub the shaft Daddy." Ifrit moans. "I love when you talk dirty to me."

Mountain.

Does not.

Get off to this.

But he's having a hard time convincing his dick of that. It aches with longing, starts to chub up as Ifrit cracks his knuckles and ducks his head into the apron, fiddling with the strings at the back.

"Can you-" he starts.

"No." Mountain says, grabbing his keys to unlock the main doors to the dining hall, relishing the chance to escape and clear his head. A few old timers are there to grab a cup of coffee and a sweet before they head to the gardens to enjoy the sunrise. Mountain smiles good naturedly at them, allows one elderly sister to pat his cheek and call him a dear when she sees her favorite strudels in the pastry case.

He disappears between the swinging double doors when he's done and finds Ifrit nowhere to be seen. Mountain sighs in relief and contemplates locking himself in the deep freezer.

"Mountain!" He hears Ifrit yell. "Can't fucking reach this damn box!"

With one last stare of longing at the deep-freezer and the solid sleep of cold-induced hibernation, Mountain goes to the little hallway where the open door of the storage closet waits.

He stares first at the saucy little bow Ifrit's tied to apron string into, bouncing right below his tail as he jumps up, clawing at a box of napkins on the uppermost shelf, obviously a trap.

Keeping a careful distance between their bodies, he steps behind Ifrit and pulls the box down easily into his arms.

"Don't," he warns, sounding panicked when Ifrit teasingly bumps his ass into Mountain's crotch.

"We're not in the kitchen." Ifrit breathes, bracing his hands against the shelf to grind back proper. "C'mon, could smell it on you."

"You know I can't," he hisses back, shifting the box to one arm, ostensibly to shove Ifrit away but instead he pets over the taut line of Ifrit's back, wondering at the sweat stains soaked into the fabric. "Ifrit, I can't."

He really can't. His cock is starting to fill back out again with a vengeance and already he doesn't feel entirely present in his head anymore, so much blood draining to go where it definitely was not needed. "Ifrit!"

"Don't sound too good back there, big guy." Ifrit teases, wrapping his tail around Mountain's waist to keep him from escaping. "Hey, why don't you take a seat and I'll help you relax?"

By the time the words reach him, it's too late. He's too far gone, too light headed to be sensible. Just needy for another rest, for Ifrit to make good on his promise. His last act of stability is to replace the box on a lower shelf before his knees wobble and he's going down hard. Dazed, he bends his legs as Ifrit gets comfy, rocking back and forth across his cock with a purpose.

"I'll take care of cleanup." Ifrit has the audacity to say as Mountain's hands grab his taunting little waist and forces him to bounce. "Here and out there."

"I hate you." Mountain moans, crooking his arm back so he can rest his head, close his eyes against the dizziness. "I'm never working breakfast with you again."

"This goes right, I'm never working breakfast again period." Ifrit mutters and it's the last thing Mountain hears for a very long time.

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