#*cue spit take from swiss*

[bloodfin]

Phantom: are you a toaster?

Rain: *blank staring*

Phantom: 'cause I'd love to get in a bath with you right now

[copias-thrall]

What would it be like post show for a Sister of Sin whose job it was help the Ghouls work off that energy?

🔥 🥵 

First of all, this is a highly-coveted and voluntary position. There’s usually about 5 Siblings who rotate nights for obvious reasons. The waiting list isn’t miles long, but it’s always full, and Siblings have to be cleared by the medical staff—tests include a lot of cardio—as well as having to sign an accident waiver. You’re also given a long list of what’s expected of you if you accept the position.

*gangbang; face fucking; f/m m/m w/w; knotting*

You just got this job—though you have had liaisons with a few of the band Ghouls before (nothing serious)—and as such, it’s a bit of a tradition that the first gig back on the road be your inauguration. The other Siblings in the staff bus give you wicked grins and help you through stretching exercises.

“You’re in for a treat,” says one of the Brothers as he slings an arm over your shoulders. “I wish I could go back and do it again for the first time.”

You’re in a cheap, terry cloth robe—the bus has a box of them because the Ghouls tend not to be very careful. Before taking a shower in preparation, you’d mostly just hung out with the others playing Spit in the bus—but now that the band was starting its encore set, you’d been ushered into the green room. 

It’s an ugly room with concrete walls painted beige and harsh fluorescent lighting, but there’s a couch that’s comfortable enough, carpeting, and a worn armchair. 

You sit. 

You stand. 

You stretch. 

You sit. 

At some point a roadie comes in with a crate full of blankets and polyester pillows. He gives you a wink as he sets them down before leaving. Out of nervous energy more than anything, you decide to arrange the blankets and pillows into a nest by the armchair. Though the sound is muffled and muted, you can tell when the last song is over, the din of the crowd a dull roar that eventually peters out.

You sit.

You stand.

The door to the green room suddenly slams open, a panting Dewdrop framed in the doorway. He smiles at you, and you can see his fangs elongate.

“Fresh,” he hisses as he stalks over to you. 

His hand slinks under your robe to grope at a breast, and he licks a stripe up your neck. That’s about as far as he gets before the rest of the band Ghouls, eyes glowing under their masks and skin dewy with seat, trundle in through the door.

“Told you,” says Swiss.

Aether sighs. “Dewie, you know you have to share.”

You feel his arm move around your middle to pull you into him, his erection now pressing into you and his tail coiling around your leg.

“Fuck, I know that. But I want her sweet cunt first. Before she starts to smell like our garbage potpourri.”

Dewdrop’s fangs scrape along your neck as his jaw seems to widen around your throat. There’s a slight jolt of fear that quickens your blood, and he growls low, rutting into you.

Aether steps forward, putting a hand to your cheek.

“Don’t worry, love—our Gremlin has never torn a throat”

“… of a friend,” cracks Swiss, and Aether smacks him.

“Quit it, Dew!” hisses Rain. “Not all of us like the smell of fear.”

“Speak for yourself, Rainy!” quips Swiss. “It’s kind of hot.”

Swiss elbows Aether in the gut, who shies away with a soft Oof.

“You mind if I take her mouth, big guy?”

Aether bows and shuffles away. Behind him you can see Rain with a petulant expression, arms crossed, and Mountain leaning up against the wall. Cumulus and Cirrus are pressed against each other, scenting and hands roving.

“We’re gonna watch,” giggles Cumulus, and she leads Cirrus to the armchair.

You don’t see what happens next because Swiss captures your mouth with his, and you notice he’s careful not to prick you with his fangs (by the sting on your neck you know Dew hasn’t been as discerning). Soon you’re sandwiched between two Ghouls and their hard ons. Swiss’s hands part your robe and land on your breasts. Dew’s tail slithers up your thigh, the spade suddenly pressing at your entrance. You gasp into Swiss’s mouth as Dewdrop slides the taper into you.

“Oh shit, Dew—is your tail …?” You hear Rain ask. And then he’s below the 3 of you, looking up between your legs as he palms himself through his pants. “You should fuck her faster with it—I want to hear her moan.”

Swiss breaks his kiss with you.

“Wait your turn, bossy!”

But Dew just purrs in approval as he begins to fuck you faster with his tail, and you do indeed moan. He unclamps his jaw so he can lick at your ear.

“Yeah—you like that? Like being fucked with the tip? If you’re good and drip down my tail, I’ll reward you with my cock.”

You can’t do anything but hun in ascent, as Swiss’s tongue is back in your mouth as his clawed fingers pinch your nipples. Another tail encircles your calf, and when you crack an eye, you see that it’s Rain’s, who is now curled around Dew’s leg and stroking it while he watches—mouth open—as Dewdrop’s tail thrusts in and out of you.

Swiss suddenly pulls back with a growl so he can shuck the robe off you. Between him and Dew, they manage to get the robe out of the way without dislodging his tail. You managed to catch a glimpse around the room in the interim: Cirrus and Cumulus are both kneeling on the armchair, faces pressed together but piercing eyes locked on you—their pants are undone, each other’s hands plunged into them; Aether stands about a foot away, arms crossed, but pants tented obscenely; Mountain still leans against the wall, but he’s lightly running his hand over the huge bulge in his crotch.

Rain shoots up, his smaller fangs poking out between his plump lips as he assesses you greedily, and your attention focuses back on the three Ghouls surrounding you. It feels like your heart is beating between your legs, and you’re panting with anticipation.

“You should bend her over the couch.”

“No shit, Rain,” snaps Dewdrop.

Rain snaps back and they hiss at each other, Dew’s tail receding from your hole. As if by unspoken cue, Swiss and Aether crowd into you, picking you up. You let out a tiny yelp—you’d’ve moved on your own!—and the two other Ghouls stop arguing as four more hands grab into your exposed flesh. More Ghouls than necessary bend you over the arm of the couch and arrange you, chittering at each other. Aether shoves a couple of pillows and a blanket from the nest under you, his one hand trailing his claws lightly down your back before stepping away.

You turn your head to look at him, but Swiss grabs you by the jaw. He’s nude now, and his cock juts out nicely from his pelvis. He kneels on the couch in front of you and tilts your face up to his even as you feel (presumably) Dew’s claws on your hips.

“You ready for us, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes …” you pant.

His hand slides into your hair, gripping it by the roots.

“Good girl. Now, take my cock.”

He shoves you down on his dick and holds you there. You feel Dew slide home, and you moan around Swiss. He curses and begins to fuck your face as Dewdrop starts pounding into you from behind. There’s some stopping and starting as the two Ghouls fucking you bicker about thrust and pace, but soon enough they’re rocking your between them in coordinated counterthrusts. Dew is hitting your G-spot—though you don’t think it’s intentional on his part—and you’d be moaning around Swiss’s cock, except you’re too busy trying to breath around every thrust that hits the back of your throat.

Swiss is panting and moaning, and Dewdrop is grunting in between hissing out Take it take it take it take it. The pad of a finger suddenly presses into your clit sending sparks through you, and—given that Dew’s hands are gripping your hips and Swiss is using his to direct your head—you’re pretty sure it belongs to Rain. You can’t do much more than clench around Dew’s cock, but it’s enough.

“Oh shit. Yeah, Rain. Make her cum on my cock.”

“Should we lend a hand?” You hear Cumulus ask.

“Wait your turn! You’re the ones who wanted to watch.”

The finger on your clit continues to tap and circle, and a second hand comes up to pinch at your nipples. All you can do is make little mewling noises whenever Swiss lets you up for air. Two lips suddenly press into your ear.

“Did you hear that, girlee? Dew wants you cum on his cock. Can you be a good toy and do that for him?”

Swiss pulls out of you, but keeps a good grip on your head even as you cough and suck in air.

“Answer him, sweetling.”

A forked tongue traces the shell of your ear, and you feel your pussy throb.

“Y-yes,” you gasp.

Swiss licks his lips.

“Fuck. Look at you.”

He wipes away the saliva dripping off your chin and presses at your puffy lips. Eyes hooded, he rubs his cockhead on your lips; he holds it there, letting the jolt from Dew’s hard thrusts do the work. Mouth now free, you’re moaning and gasping from the punch at your G-spot and the tap at your clit, the blood quickening in your veins.

“All right, Swiss,” says Aether. “You can play after everyone’s had the first go.”

“Yeah, ok.”

He shoves your head back down on his dick and starts to face fuck you again. Rain’s hand detaches from your tit to pet at the bulge in your cheek and throat. He gives your throat a little squeeze—his claws sharp—but not digging—in your flesh, and you cough in surprise, gagging a little.

Swiss cuffs Rain on the ear, and Rain hisses.

“Fuck, Rain. Do that on your own time. I don’t actually want her to gag on me.”

“Sorry.”

Rain’s hand returns to your breasts and his finger on your clit starts circling in earnest. You let yourself get lost in the sensations and the rising swell of pleasure. Dew is speeding up, but Swiss is beginning to slow down—pulling his cock almost all the way out before shoving it back in. 

“Do you think you can take it, sweetie?” coos Swiss as he strokes your cheek. “Can you take my whole cock?”

You look up at him as much as you can through watery eyes and make a sound of ascent.

“Good girl,” he purrs, and then he’s pushing back into your mouth. You realize he was being gentle before, as he’s now thrusting into you hard, trying to get his dick down your throat even as you’re making obscene noises.

Rain is still rubbing your throbbing clit, but his other hand travels up to your throat to rest lightly there.

“Yeah. Fuck her good,” says Rain lowly. “Look at how well she’s taking it. I bet you could get it all the way down.”

Behind you, Dewdrop begins to punch into you in slow, forceful pumps.

“She’s fucking loving it too—you should feel how wet she is.”

“Wet enough to take two?” asks Rain.

Several things happen at once: Dewdrop inserts a finger alongside his dick; you moan; and Swiss breathes out an Oh fuck and crams his cock in to the hilt. Swiss firmly holds your head in place as he shoots down your throat, snarling and growling through his climax. The sudden lack of oxygen, Rain’s flicking finger, and Dew’s stimulation of your G-stop have you cumming in swirling red bursts—and you slam yourself back into Dew over and over as you crest and break, pussy popping.

At some point Swiss retreated, so you’re now free to cry out in breathy Ahs to each pulse of your clit.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” pants Dew as you clench hard around him.

You don’t even have a chance to come down: Rain hasn’t eased off your clit at all, and the oversensitivity of it combined with Dewdrop’s pounding thrusts have you raw and cumming again—almost painfully so; you whine out Oh oh oh over and over again as you continue to spasm. The Ghoulettes might be moaning in their corner, but all peripheral noises are drowned out when Dew starts panting out,

 “I’m fucking … I’m gonna … I’m gonna pop a knot!”

There’s a sudden murmur of displeasure from the other Ghouls and several utterances of “No don’t” or “Don’t you dare!”

But Dewdrop suddenly snarls, “Take it, bitch,” before you feel him shove his knot into you. You don’t cry out so much as you forcefully exhale all the air in your lungs at the unrelenting and stimulating pressure now in you. Dew is rumbling and growling—claws scrabbling into your flesh—as he empties into you; he’s grinding his knot, and the press on your sweet spots has you screaming out a demi orgasm as the pressure finally breaks. Fingers—Rain’s—are suddenly hooked into your mouth as he licks at your ear, his tail rubbing against your hard nipples.

“That’s it, girlee. That’s it. So good of you. You took his whole knot. Can you give it a little squeeze? He’d like that. It’ll make him feel really good.”

Even though your arms are trembling at the strain of holding yourself up, you clamp your muscles around the thickness in you. Dew—who had seemed to just be panting and collecting himself—keens, and then jolts, grinding into you once more.

“Santanas, don’t encourage him, Rain,” drawls Swiss from where he’s sprawled at the other end of the couch, still naked.

“Come here, Rain” says Aether.

Rain butts his head against yours. “But I want her mouth.”

“Well, now we all have to wait for Dew’s knot to go down.”

Rains whines as Dew says, “Sorry not sorry.”

You’re catching your breath and trying not to collapse when Rain extracts himself from you. Dew is scraping his claws down your sides and letting out little teeth purrs. Aether comes over to rearrange you and the pillows so that you’re resting on him.

“There you go, love. Comfy?”

You let out an Mhm as Aether pets through your hair. Now settled, you notice that Mountain is still leaned up against the wall—hand still rubbing his crotch—but staring at you intently. Cirrus and Cumulus look at once totally spent and totally raring to go, tangled together on the armchair, hands wandering and tails swaying. Rain wiggles in between them and—other than a brief growl from Cumulus—the two silently drape around him.

You snuggle into Aether and you notice that his erection hasn’t really flagged, so you reach out a hand to palm it. He lets out a pleased rumble, and you begin to pet it in earnest.

“Oh yeah. That’s it. That’s nice, love. Yeah, just like that.”

He turns his head, tilting his mask up with a hand, and captures your mouth in a kiss. You hear Rain wine, but the Ghoulettes shush him.

The door suddenly bangs open, and everyone startles.

Copia bustles in—still in his stage costume minus a few buttons—failing to read the room at all.

“Do not be minding me,” he chatters. “Pretend I am not here.” He pulls a metal chair flush to the wall before settling himself in it, magazine in hand.

“Hey, Boss,” says Aether.

“Apologies for my lateness. You, ah, know how it is with the ladies.” He waggles his eyebrows ridiculously. He fixes his mismatched gaze on you, and you flush. “Everything okie dokie?”

You’re about to agree when Aether speaks.

“Actually, Boss, the Gremlin here knotted our sweet Sister.”

Copia’s demeanor sombers, his eyes flicking to Dewdrop.

“Is this true, my Ghoulie?”

“She felt good,” Dew grumbles.

Copia tsks at him. “You know the rules. We will correct this, no?”

Dewdrop mumbles something unintelligible.

“What was that, Ghoul?”

“Yes, Cardinal,” says Dew louder.

“Very good. Continua,” he says as he crosses his legs and begins to flip through his magazine.

“Why is The Cardinal here?” you whisper to Aether in what you hope is a quiet tone.

Aether strokes your cheek. “He’s here for your protection.”

“He likes to watch,” Swiss says in a stage whisper.

Copia loudly turns a glossy page but otherwise doesn’t respond. Aether finds your mouth again, his forked tongue slipping past your lips to tangle with yours, and you start palming his bulge again. Aether’s chest is rumbling, and Dew spits out, 

“That’s not fucking helping.”

Aether sighs, his head thunking back into the wall with a clank. Dew seems to be rolling his hips again, his claws digging into your flesh.

“We don’t have time for this shit,” says Cirrus, and she carefully maneuvers her way off the armchair so as to not dislodge Cumulus—who’s grooming Rain with her tongue—and Rain.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Cir!” hisses Dew.

There’s some commotion—a lot of hissing—and jostling behind you, and then Dew yelps and you feel him pop free of you. You hadn’t even realized how much the pressure of his knot was keeping you in a low simmering state of arousal until you’re suddenly empty, and you groan at the loss. Dew is still whining and carrying on in the background, but Aether thumbs at your lips.

“Don’t worry, Love. I’ll fill you up again soon.”

“Yes, please,” you purr, and then you suck his thumb into your mouth. You see Aether’s eyes flash briefly before he licks his lips and removes his digit. As he gets off the couch he asks, “Boss?”

Copia looks up from his magazine, white eye glinting as he says, “Whatever you think is necessary, mio ragazzo.”

“Want me to keep her warm for you,” asks Cirrus from behind you.

“You’re a peach, Cir,” you hear Aether respond.

Two fingers are inserted into you while another manipulates your clit; another hand smooths over your ass and travels under you to pet at your belly. You gasp out in pleasure as the need you were feeling is eased.

“There you go, hunny. I know—feels better, doesn’t it? Ah, how sweet you are. We’re going to have so much fun with you.”

Your eyes are closed, head thrown back, as your ride Cirrus’ fingers. Dimly, you’re aware of Aether asking Dew to stand with arms on his head against the wall before you hear the crack of a palm on flesh and Dewdrop hissing out numbers. You feel the sofa dip and when you open your eyes, it’s to Rain—his fangs are dripping, and he’s got his dick out, holding it at the base. 

You open your mouth, but instead of his dick, Rain inserts his fingers. He eases them as far back as they’ll go—which subsequently is to his knuckles. You close your lips around them and suck, making sure to twirl your tongue around them. A half purr, half growl vibrates from Rain’s chest as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your mouth—his tongue poking out and glowing eyes fixated on where his fingers keep disappearing into your spit-slick lips.

A slight crinkling noise has your eyes flicking over to where The Cardinal sits; he’s red faced, his eyes darting between you and where you assume Dew is as he takes his spanking, and he’s crumpling the magazine in one hand while the other—

Rain retracts his fingers and grasps the hinge of your jaw so that it pops open. 

“You’re going to suck me now, girlee” he says as he guides his cock into you and coils his tail around your throat; his cock is smaller than Swiss’s, but still fills your mouth cavity, and you eagerly get to work bobbing your head and swirling your tongue—you want to make him feel as good as Cirrus’s clever fingers are making you feel. Rain rumbles and sinks his clawed fingers into your hair.

Once again, you lose yourself in the pleasure of being between two Ghouls so much so that you don’t realize Aether is done with his task at hand until the fingers in your cunt are replaced with a fat cock and hands grabbing your hips. Thank Satan for Dewdrop’s knot, otherwise you’re sure you’d be feeling the burning stretch.

As Aether eases himself in deep, your clit throbs and you let out a long, low moan that causes Rain to grunt and thrust hard into your mouth. Aether rocks into you with long, steady pumps, rumbling in pleasure each time he buries to the hilt. His big hands travel to your ass and spread your cheeks, no doubt so he can watch as he disappears into you. You let the sway of your body from his thrusts guide you as you slurp on Rain—who is also letting out pleased growls and chitters as your lips and tongue massage his cock, his tail tightening ever so slightly around your neck.

A slight jostling in front of you has you opening your eyes to look up. Swiss has come up behind Rain and is pressing into the smaller Ghoul’s back. Swiss wraps a muscled arm around Rain’s waist, and Rain lets his head fall back onto one of his broad shoulders while his tail uncurls from your throat to wind around Swiss’s thigh. Swiss maneuvers his cock between Rain’s spread legs so that it bumps your saliva-slick chin and Rain’s balls as the two of them thrust at you in tandem. 

Aether is beginning to speed up, his pelvis starting to slap against you in an audible way. You feel flushed and raw, your skin buzzing and your pussy pulsating in small spasms whenever Aether’s dick hits your sweet spot. When his finger comes down to play with your clit, it only takes a few swipes before you’re locking up and pressing forcefully back into Aether’s solid body as you clench tight aground him in waves. He pulls you into himself hard, and when you tip your head back to moan, Rain’s dick slips out.

He makes a disgruntled noise.

“Don’t hog her!”

“Shh, Rainy,” coos Swiss.

Aether doesn’t respond, just holds you to him and bounces you slightly on his dick as you work through aftershocks.

“Just like that. There you go. Ride it out on my cock, love. Like my fat cock, do you? Such a good girl.”

When you’re done, you fall forward again and are met with the sight of Swiss slowly jacking Rain’s cock. Swiss guides Rain back into your mouth, and Rain lets out a low throat growl. Both his hands come down to grip your hair, and he holds your head in place as he starts thrusting frenetically into your mouth.

“Don’t move your mouth again,” he hisses as he gags you on his cock.

He’s panting and snarling, practically curled over you, and his tails encircles your neck again, squeezing hard enough that you’re wheezing, but not tight enough to restrict your airway—his cock is doing that well enough.

“Santanas, Rain,” growls Aether, and you feel him speed up.

There’s a roaring in your ears, but you’re sure you hear Dewdrop whine from somewhere in the room and a harsh Shush from Copia. Rain suddenly slows before he lets out a breathy moan, shoving his cock deep into you. You feel his cock kick before the salt of his cum bursts over your tongue. After that, he lets go of your head and neck, rocking into your mouth slowly. When you glance up through your tearing eyes, you see him liplocked with Swiss—who’s rutting his erection against Rain’s ass. Then Aether is pulling you up against his chest and fucking into you properly—one hand reaching around to play with a tit and gentle fangs scraping along your neck and shoulder.

“Can you cum one more time? I want to feel you squeeze my cock again.”

His fingers are back pressing at your overstimulated nub again, and you whine while trying to squirm away from his touch, but he holds you in place.

“Shh, shh—I know you can. You can be a good girl. You’re here to please, aren’t you? Don’t you want to please me?”

“Oh god,” you gulp.

The pad of his finger presses and circles and swipes at your clit, and you thrash in pleasure against him. All the while he’s still pounding into, and you can feel him begin to harden even further. He begins to swipe frantically at you, his mouth sucking a bruise into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” you cry out as your feel yet another orgasm swelling. Aether presses his finger hard into your clit, and when you cry out at your climax you sound more like a wounded animal than a woman experiencing exquisite pleasure. He roars, but his thrusts never slow, so when he lays you back down over the armrest, you’re surprised when his softening cock slips free.

“Sweet Lucifer, dude,” says Swiss.

You look up from where you’re a panting, sweaty, boneless mess to see him still entwined with Rain—who is now slowly jacking Swiss. You feel like you could melt into the couch, not even moving even when Aether runs his hand down your slick back.

“I was getting her ready,” you hear Aether say.

He must make a gesture because Swiss’s eyes widen.

“No shit?”

“Dew did knot her. It’s worth a shot.”

“You’re fucking welcome,” yells Dew, and everyone tells him to shut up.

A movement out of the corner of your eye has you turning your head to see the room. The first thing that you notice is that The Cardinal’s zipper is undone, and his soft cock is hanging out and drooling cum. He looks only slightly sheepish when he catches your gaze. The next thing you notice is Mountain coming closer to you with a hopeful gaze. He briefly catches your eyes before they flick to Aether’s behind you.

“Yeah, buddy. It’s worth a shot,” Aether says.

Swiss and Rain settle themselves at the other end of the couch so that Rain can still stroke Swiss while watching you. Aether comes back into your line of sight, and he uses a finger to lift your chin up.

“Think you can try to take Mountain, love?”

“Sure,” you slur as you give a salute. You hear a happy chittering behind you. 

As the haze slowly begins to clear, you start to remember that you were told that Mountain rarely fucks the relief Siblings. Because he’s fucking huge. Now that you’ve snapped to attention, you realize how tense with anticipation the room is—but before you get a chance to have an attack of nerves, you feel a fist-sized pressure at your opening, and you gasp.

“Easy, easy,” Aether says as he pets down your back.

There’s even more pressure and then an audible pop as the tip of Mountain’s cock breaches your entrance; a breath punches out of you, and Swiss lets out a soft Oh fuck.

“You’re doing so well, love,” coos Aether.

“I wanna see,” says Rain, his eyes shining, and he clambers off the couch and out of sight behind you. Swiss rolls his eyes before attending to himself and giving you a jaunty smirk.

Another inch slides into you and—it’s not painful … but it’s extremely intense, and you’re so very full. You scrabble at the cushions in front of you as even another inch eases in.

“So good, so good,” Aether whispers in your ear as he pets your head.

“Holy fucking shit that’s hot,” says Dew. 

No one tells him to shut up.

Another inch. 

And then another. 

You’re giving heaving pants at the effort of adjusting to the sheer girth of what’s in you. Your clit is pounding again, and you can’t seem to stop clenching and unclenching around Mountain’s cock. You can feel the droplets of sweat roll down your body and drip off. Another inch slides in, pressing unforgivingly at your G-spot, and suddenly you’re cumming again. You actually feel your nails tear the fabric of the couch as you claw at it.

Mountain mewls and slides even further into you than he probably intended to so fast, but all you can do is twitch in place. The tip of a hard cock enters your mouth, and—a few small, frantic rocks later—cum is once again splashing on your tongue, and then on your lips.

“Swiss,” groans Aether.

“Sorry. I couldn’t wait.”

You look up at Swiss through blurry eyes, and he smiles at you, wiping away the cum from your chin. Two gentle handles land on your hips and pull you slowly, but insistently, back onto his cock. Mountain continues until you feel a bump at your cervix, and you cry out.

“Too far!” you gasp.

“Ok, shh. Sorry, love,” murmurs Aether. Then to Mountain he says, “Hey, buddy: that’s far enough.”

You hear Mountain grunt and chitter.

“He’s still not even close to all the way in,” says Rain in wonder.

A soft fuck comes from where Copia sits.

“Can you work with this, Monty?” asks Aether.

“Yeah” says Mountain in a deep, rumbling timbre. And then he starts to move in you, and you cry out at the sensation. When he immediately stops you gasp,

“I’m fine—keep going!”

You have to breathe in deep inhales and exhales as Mountain not so much thrusts as rubs into you. His pace is slow, but you can tell by the tight grip he has on your hips that he’s holding back. You squeeze your muscles around him, and he stutters to a stop, growling.

“Monty …?”

“Again,” he rumbles, and you know he’s talking to you.

You clamp down again as he rocks into you at his slow pace. You close your eyes in concentration as you and Mountain perform the intricate dance of his subtle movements and the clench of your muscles. A hand grasps one of your tits to thumb at a nipple, while another traces a finger along your folds. Your head is yanked up as a mouth finds yours. You’re letting out little breathy grunts as Mountain fucks into you. You’re aware of the other Ghouls surrounding you. 

In the background, Dewdrop whines, and you can hear the moans of the Ghoulettes.

“Come here, Gremlin,” you’re dimly aware of Copia saying.

Mountain is starting to whine in the distress of one who wants to cum badly, but can’t quite get there. You feel a hand join his exposed cock in its thrusts, and he begins to rock a little faster as you gasp into Swiss’s mouth. Between the three Ghouls manipulating you and the monster filling you, it’s not too long before they bring you to orgasm AGAIN—something you detach yourself from actively participating in and just let happen, not bothering to even hold yourself up.

There’s a loud snarl, and Mountain gives a hard thrust into you—he hits your cervix again, but you’re still blissed out on riding the aftershocks of your orgasm to do much more than grunt a little at the twinge. The hand—Rain’s presumably—is working at jacking the exposed bit of his cock fast, and the kick and throb of Mountain’s cock is a palpable thing as he empties into you.

You slump as Mountain gives little twitches and he purrs contentedly.

“Good show, love,” Aether whispers into your ear before giving it a soft kiss.

You just lay there, not bothering to move, and your eyes lazily scan the room: against the wall you see a naked Dewdrop sitting in Copia’s lap—no: on his cock—looking pleased as punch, his dick spent and tail swishing. Cirrus and Cumulus are once again tangled in each other, looking spent while also sending you predatory looks.

Mountain waits until he’s half soft before pulling out of you, and you're instantly bereft at how empty you now feel. The swell of the sudden emotion overwhelms you, and you start to cry. There are suddenly four Ghouls cuddling you up in their arms, cooing and chittering at you. You feel the couch dip and open your eyes to see Cirrus and Cumulus worming their ways into the pile.

“We’ve got this boys,” says Cumulus.

Cirrus takes your hands. “C’mon, hunny—let’s get you cleaned up.”

Before the Ghouls can say anything, the Ghoulettes have you ushered into the small bathroom, locking the door behind you.

“I’m not hurt,” you say as you scrub at your eyes.

Cumulus gives you a fang-filled grin.

“Oh, we know.”

Cirrus crowds into you, her claws lightly trailing down your exposed skin.

“We just wanted our turn.”

The two of them manhandle you into the tiny shower, letting you stand under the hot spray while they divest themselves of their uniforms. Once in the cramped space with you, Cirrus uses the pretense of washing you to feel you up. Her hands linger on soaping up your breasts before traveling down to caress your ass. With a gentle touch, she runs her fingers through your slit while giving your clit gentle circles. Cumulus, meanwhile, makes no pretense at all, kissing your shoulders and back while pinching at your nipples.

Cirrus finally grabs your jaw. “Touch us,” she commands.

You bend your head down so that you can lave at her nipples, your hand slipping between her folds to finger at her clit. Then you turn to suck Cumulus’s breast into your mouth and use your other hand to rub at her nub. You alternate between each breast and each Ghoulette, all while fingering them both. They’re letting out little rumbling purrs and growls, their hands swiping and grasping at you in turn.

When you look up at Cirrus from where you’re attached to her nipple, she says to you sweetly,

“Well, don’t just look at me, hunny. Eat me.”

You give her nipple one last suck, and then you’re getting carefully on your knees, tilting your head up so you can worm your tongue in between her lips. You’re tonguing at her hole and lapping at her clit when she grabs you by your wet hair to grind you into her. A tail wiggles down your back, but—occupied as you are—you can’t tell whose it is.

From the moans and mouth sounds you hear above you, you’re sure Cirrus and Cumulus are kissing, so you fumble blindly with your other hand against the shorter Ghoulette until she guides your hand to her cunt. Once you start circling her nub with the pad of your finger, she lets out pleased little trills.

Cirrus strokes your head before pulling you from her cunt.

“Such a good little girl. Can you make my songbird sing?”

She guides your head between Cumulus’s thighs, and you eagerly lap into her until you get to her sweetness. She does her purring trill again, and you place the pad of your finger to her entrance. When she doesn’t protest, you slip your finger in, curling it so that you’re tapping at her sweet spot. As your tongue circles and laps faster at her clit, her trills turn to outright moans before they’re muffled by Cirrus’s mouth.

You know you’re money when you feel the telltale tremors in her pussy; you speed up the flick of your tongue until she’s crying out in low moans and her walls clench hard around your finger. You hadn’t even noticed how tense she’d become until she suddenly relaxes and starts to slide down against the shower wall.

As you come up for air, the water beating down on your face, Cirrus once again jerks you by the hair to her.

“You can use two in me, sweetie,” and then she grinds your mouth back into her curls.

You angle your head so that you have the best lapping angle, and you slip your two fingers through her slit before sliding them into her hole.

“Thrust them a little,” she demands, and you follow her order, slowly thrusting your two fingers in and out of her, eased by her slickness.

The only outward sign Cirrus shows that she’s enjoying this is the clench and unclench of her claws in your hair and the occasional growl when you stimulate her particularly well. A tail circles around your waist and—from the angle—you know this time it’s Cumulus’s. You feel her at your back as her hand creeps around to grab at your tits, her mouth finding your shoulder.

“Cir likes swirls,” she whispers into your ear before licking into it with her forked tongue.

Still thrusting with your two fingers, you begin to swirl at Cirrus’s clit with your pointed tongue.

“Oh yes!,” Cirrus breaths out. “Keep doing that—don’t stop!”

You swirl and swirl and swirl, your two fingers easing in and out of her, until she’s trembling. And still you keep at it, her hand clenching harder into your hair and her claws digging into your scalp. By the time you feel her soften under your tongue and she begins to pulsate, she’s gone from soft moans into rumbling growls. Then she’s letting out breathy Ahs as her sweetness explodes over your tongue and her muscles try to milk your fingers.

After softly lapping her through the aftershocks, you pull away from Cirrus, and Cumulus wraps herself around you and sighs.

“You’re fun. I like you,” she says.

Cirrus just looks down at you, eyes glowing. She reaches down and lifts your chin up. 

“Next time I’m going to sit on your face,” she says.

After that, the two of them clean you up for real. When you wince and flinch as they clean your pussy, Cirrus announces that you’re done for the night.

She leads you out of the bathroom wrapped in a scratchy towel. The Cardinal is back to reading his magazine while petting at Dewdrop, who’s at his feet, head resting on his thigh. Swiss and Rain are cuddled up together on one end of the couch, tails swaying lazily. Aether is crouched by Mountain—who is leaning against the wall on the floor—whispering softly to him. They all stop to look up at the three of you.

“That’s it boys; this one is out of commission,” Cirrus announces.

Dewdrop snorts and Rain whines plaintively. Aether’s face just falls.

Cumulus stands in front of you, hands on hips, as Cirrus growls dangerously at them.

“Well, you rode her pretty hard didn’t you? What did you expect?”

“The Ghoulettes are correct,” chimes in Copia. “We must respect our Sister’s limits.”

Rain pouts and buries his head in Swiss’s chest. Swiss give you a cheeky grin and a thumbs up. Dewdrop runs his tongue over his fangs—which you can only interpret as a warning for your next shift. When you walk by Mountain, you reach your hand out. He looks at it for a moment before tentatively grabbing your hand. When you squeeze it and smile at him, he returns both. After he lets go, you bring your hand up to cup Aether’s cheek.

“You’re on my dance card first for next time, big guy.”

You can’t say for sure because of the mask, but the way he ducks his head, you’re sure Aether blushes at you.

The Ghoulettes help you back into your robe and slippers, then escort you to the docking bay doors. Cumulus hugs you tight, nipping at your shoulder slightly; Cirrus gives you a smoldering look full of promise.

You limp back to your tour bus in a daze. The other Siblings look at you in concern when you board.

“Lucifer—you look like you were hit by a truck.”

“Shit, did they hurt you?!”

You shake your head—slowly because your neck is very sore.

“Seriously, what happened?”

You sit down gingerly.

“Mountain,” you say.

“Mountain?”

“He’s fucking huge, did you know that?” you say jokingly—everyone knows Mountain has a horse cock. You put your head down in your arms. There’s a silence before they start squealing.

“Unholy shit, did you let Mountain fuck you??”

You turn your head to face their gaping mouths.

“Something like that. We got any frozen peas around here or something?”

There’s some scrambling and you’re handed a bag of frozen carrots, which you promptly put in between your legs.

“Tell us everything.”

[dancinginthesliverglow]

Marooned in the Caribbean

By: @art-in-the-sunlight for @comingupwriting in the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange (and a huge thank you to @jelly-pies for beta reading and editing).

Rating: General Audiences. There’s a few depictions of violence and two characters drown (but they survive). No character deaths.

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Morgan Stark, May Parker, Pepper Potts/Stark, a mention of Happy Hogan

Summary:  Peter celebrates his seventeenth birthday with May, Tony, Morgan and Pepper on Tony's yacht. However, trouble strikes in the shape of a horrible storm which sends Peter and Morgan into the ocean. How will they survive?

Prompt chosen: Peter protecting Morgan with a touch of Everyone Lives!Au domestic life of the ironfam.

Ao3 link  Enjoy :)

“... and Happy Birthday to Petey!” Morgan sings at the top of her lungs before jumping into Peter’s arms, barely missing the candles in front of him. 

“Aww thanks guys!” Peter grins looking around at his friends and family. Tony had invited him and May to his yacht to celebrate Peter’s 17th birthday. Peter turns back to Morgan. “Do you want to help me blow out the candles?” 

“Yea!” Morgan turns to the cake, and blows out all the candles in one attempt. 

“Woah! Are you sure you’re not the one turning 17?” Peter jokes, earning a giggle from Morgan. 

“Alright there kiddos, it’s cake time!” May pulls out a fork, takes a piece of icing and holds it up for Peter to taste. As Peter takes a bite, he hears the shutter of a camera and turns to Pepper with a smile. 

“Aww that’s a great picture.” Pepper smiles back at him kindly. 

“My turn!” Morgan jumps out of Peter’s arms.

“I don’t know about that… Did she eat all her vegetables yesterday?” Tony pretends to think about it, turning to Pepper. 

“Hmm.. I don’t remember. But I suppose if she promised to eat all of them tonight…” Pepper mimics Tony’s expression, hiding a smile.

“I promise! I’ll eat it!”

Everyone laughs. “Alright, Morgana. But only one slice. They’ll be more after dinner, if you want.”

Morgan nods eagerly, and impatiently waits as Pepper and Tony cut and distribute the cake. 

May pulls Peter into her side and presses a kiss on his forehead. “Happy birthday, Peter. I love you.”

Peter leans into her and closes his eyes contentedly as May runs her fingers through his hair. “Love you too, May.” 

Pepper hands Peter a slice of chocolate drip cake. Peter finishes it, leans back and looks around at his family. He had really gotten lucky, all things considered. A few months ago - well, 5 years ago really, an alien named Thanos had come to earth with the infinity stones and turned half the population of everything in the entire universe to dust, him and May included. 

A few months ago, Tony and the rest of the Avengers had put together a desperate attempt using time travel - Peter was still spotty on the details - but long story short, they brought everyone back, and survived. It was a close call for Black Widow and Tony, the former was paralyzed from the waist down from a fall on an alien planet, and Tony had lost his arm.

But all of that was in the past. The important point was everyone was alive, they defeated possibly the toughest villain ever and got their happy ever after. There would always be more villains for the Avengers to defeat and more muggers and thieves for Peter to web up in New York but that was normal. 

Peter snapped out of his train of thought when Tony sat down next to him and slung his nanotech arm around Peter. “What do you think, kiddo? Birthday party up to your standards?”

Peter laughs. “Mr. Stark, we’re on a yacht in the Caribbean ocean! This-this is amazing!”

Tony’s expression seems to soften, into a gentle smile. “Anything for you, kiddo.” 

Peter leans into Tony’s embrace but doesn’t say anything. It’s a comfortable silence. Before the blip, he and Tony had grown close. Peter had never said anything but somewhere between patrolling New York City together, training and fighting, and upgrading their suits and working in the lab together, Peter had stopped thinking of Tony as genius, billionaire, superhero, philanthropist and more along the lines of… father. Dad. 

Based on what he managed to piece together from Tony's behaviour, Pepper, Happy, Rhodey and the other Avengers's comments about Tony during the blip, Tony thought of him as his son too. Just the thought of it filled Peter’s chest with warmth. 

“Daaaaaad! Mom says that we have to go inside!” Morgan runs up to Tony and Peter, and points to the left. A massive… cloud -  if it could even be called that - is rolling in. Peter sees flashes of lightning inside the massive cloud.

“Yea okay. Morgana, help Peter take the chairs inside?” Tony stands up and stretches, before moving to the yacht sails. The gesture seems unconcerned but Peter can see a line of tension in Tony’s expression when he looks at the cloud.

Peter’s spidey senses tingle when he looks back at the cloud, and he gets a dark feeling which sends goosebumps up his arms. “That storm seems pretty big.”

Tony smiles at Peter reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it. I outfitted this ship myself. She has nanotech in her walls, along with FRIDAY. If all else fails, I can call a suit.”

~ ~ ~

An hour later, everything is decidedly not okay. The yacht is swaying side to side in the ten foot waves, each time coming closer and closer to flipping over. Pepper, May and Peter are huddled together on the sofa, while Tony taps angrily at the yacht’s interface. The storm was interfering with FRIDAY’s connection. 

Morgan presses her nose against the door staring outside. Peter supposes that if he could get past the dark feeling from his spidey senses, the dark scene with waves crashing and lightning flashing would’ve made quite the enjoyable scene.

As if on cue, Pepper looks up and spots Morgan. “Morgan! Come here!”

“No! I want to watch the lightning!” 

“Morg-” Pepper’s response is lost as something dark flies and knocks the door open. A large branch slides into the center of the room, quickly followed by gallons of water. Morgan falls and screams in terror. 

The room instantly explodes into chaos. Tony, Peter and Pepper instantly jump up and lunge to grab Morgan. The yacht sways in the opposite direction, and the branch and ocean water slide out, along with Morgan. Tony and Pepper’s fingers scantily miss Morgan by centimetres. Peter jumps up to the ceiling, sticks there for a millionth of a second and then throws himself at Morgan as she slides out the door.  

He catches her - in fact he nearly lands on top of her. He has a moment of relief, where he wraps Morgan in his arms tight. A split second later, he realizes his mistake. He used too much force, and now the momentum, along with the yacht’s slick deck sends them both over the yacht rail into the roaring ocean. 

He hits the water head first and it’s agony. He feels like someone with his strength had punched him in the head. The next sensation is ice. The water is ice cold, and he instantly feels frozen to the core. Dazed, he opens his eyes underwater and realizes that Morgan is no longer in his arms. Morgan isn’t anywhere near him, from what he can tell with his limited vision.

 He frantically kicks until he reaches the surface. He sucks in a breath of fresh air and yells, “MORGAN!” before another wave yanks him back under. Peter’s lungs burn as he swallows ocean water. He frantically kicks upward again, trying to get back to the surface. Peter doesn’t see the same tree branch floating on the surface, right above his head. He smashes into it, head first, and the world goes dark. 

~ ~ ~

Peter wakes up coughing. He rolls onto his side and spits out ocean water and bits of seaweed, before throwing up what was left of his birthday cake. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and slowly sits up.

Something digs into his side. He pats his side, and then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a red, metal swiss knife just slightly bigger than his thumb. He tries to remember where he got it but he comes up blank. Peter sticks it back into his pocket and looks around. 

Peter’s on a sandy beach. The sun is slightly angled in the sky, and isn’t quite scorching hot yet so Peter estimates that it's sometime in the morning. There isn’t a cloud in sight. Waves peacefully lap at his feet. 

Shakily, Peter stands up and turns away from the ocean. He stumbles a few times before righting himself. Several meters in front of him the beach slowly transitions into sandy dirt with a few shrubs, and then into what seems like a thick jungle.

Peter touches his head, and hisses in pain. His fingers come away clean, if not a little sandy. Based on the sharp sting that's now fading and the underlying throbbing, Peter knows he has a head injury. 

What happened?

It comes back to him in pieces. His birthday, The swiss army tinker knife gift in his pocket. The yacht. May. Tony. The cake. The storm. Morgan.

Oh god, Morgan.

Peter swallows and forces tears back. He’s no use to Morgan if he allows his emotions to overcome him. He needs to stay positive. Peter and Morgan had fallen in the ocean at the same spot. Maybe there’s a chance Morgan washed up on the same shore as him?

Peter stumbles across the beach squinting in the sunlight, looking for Morgan’s figure. He tries to stave off his panic. Why did the sun have to be so… intense in the Caribbean? He knows the answer to that, of course. The tilt of the earth in combination with the curvature of the earth causes the sun’s rays to be more concentrated over~

The sight of a figure lying in the sand, close to shore in the distance stops Peter’s train of thought. Could it be?

Peter sprints towards her, and practically falls beside her. Carefully he rolls her over - and yes, it’s Morgan. She’s pale and there’s sand and seaweed covering her face, but it's definitely Morgan. 

Peter shakily holds his hand over her mouth. She’s breathing. Peter sits back on his heels, closes his eyes and sighs in relief. Morgan’s okay. Something in Peter relaxes. Morgan’s going to be okay and he’s okay. All he has to do is send up some type of flare or signal so that Tony can find them. A dark thought passes through Peter’s mind. What if the storm had been too much? What if Tony and Pepper and May-

Through sheer force of will, Peter stops the thought in its tracks. Tony is the strongest superhero, the strongest person he knows (maybe aside from Pepper, May and MJ). Not even Thanos or the Infinity Stones (arguably the strongest weapons in existence) could kill him. Tony definitely survived the storm, which means that May and Pepper survived as well. 

Peter focuses on Morgan. He puts a hand to her head. Her forehead is hot, but not worryingly so. He carefully picks her up and looks around. To his right, he spots a huge tree with large branches hanging over the beach, casting shade over the area. Perfect. 

Peter walks over and gently lies Morgan underneath. He rips off a piece of his shirt, soaks it in water, and gently places it on Morgan’s forehead. She wrinkles her nose and softly huffs, but doesn’t wake up. Peter kisses her head and sits down next to her. 

In the sandy dirt, he makes a plan. His first priority is to find shelter. Peter looks at the tree he and Morgan are taking shelter underneath, and decides that it’s good enough for now. Next on the list is to find water, followed by making a signal for Tony and then finding food. Peter sincerely hopes they won’t have to stick around on the island too long. He has never had to hunt for food before, and he isn’t quite sure what’s poisonous and what’s safe. He regrets not taking MJ up on borrowing her survival guide.

First things first, Peter needs to find water. He goes to stand up, but then looks back at Morgan. She’s especially vulnerable like this, and Peter doesn’t want to leave her alone. He figures carrying her around is an option, although it’s not one that he likes. There’s too much that could go wrong. 

Peter scans the shoreline, looking for inspiration to a solution, when he spots a palm tree several meters away. His eyes follow the trunk. Twenty feet up, Peter spots a few coconuts. He smiles. This should be easy. 

Several minutes later, Peter sits back down next to Morgan, looking slightly worse for wear with a few bug bites and three coconuts. He pulls out the army knife and begins carefully hacking away at the top of the first coconut.  

After what seems like forever, Peter finally cuts through the coconut shell. He carefully pours a bit of coconut water on his palm, and then sniffs it. It has a faint odor, but more importantly, it doesn’t trigger his spidey senses. Peter raises the hole in the coconut to his mouth and takes a sip. The taste is a little weird, but to Peter, it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever had. He’s halfway done drinking the rest of the water when he hears Morgan stirring. 

Carefully, he leans the coconut upright against the other coconuts, and then rushes to Morgan’s side. 

“Hey Morgan! Are you waking up? Morgan?” Peter gently taps Morgan’s shoulders.  

Morgan opens her eyes and squints at him. “Wha - Petey?”

Peter’s face breaks out into a huge grin. “Hey Morgan!” He helps her sit up.

“Where are we? Where’s Mom and Da-” Her raspy voice breaks off into a cough. 

Peter hands her the coconut. “Here, drink.”

She takes the coconut with two hands and drinks. Peter nearly chuckles at the sight. It's adorable. 

“What do you remember?”

Morgan frowns for a moment, before her face clouds and she looks on the edge of crying. 

“Hey- nono! We’re going to be okay! Don’t cry!” 

Morgan’s lip trembles, and Peter pulls her into a fierce hug. “I promise you, Mr. Stark-Dad is out there looking for us. And he’s going to find us as soon as… as we complete our mission.” 

“M-mission?” Morgan still looks scared, but the threat of tears are beginning to retreat.

“Yea! The first step was getting coconut water.”

Morgan makes a face. “Coconut water tastes weird.”

Peter laughs. “It does! But it’s part two of the mission. We have to drink coconut water whenever we get thirsty.”

“Fine… But I’m only doing it so Dad can find us.” Morgan looks oddly determined for a kid. “What else do we have to do?”

“Hmm, let’s see. Find coconuts, drink coconuts…” Peter makes an exaggerated thinking face, and Morgan giggles. “Next is making a signal!”

“A signal?”

“Yea! Mr. St- Dad is already looking all over for us. But he doesn’t know where exactly to look, so we have to tell him!”

“How do we do that?”

“Well, I’m fresh out of flares, what about you? Are you hiding any under… here?” Peter lunges at Morgan and tickles her sides.

“Hey!” Morgan giggles and starts squirming. “Petey stop it!” 

Peter withdraws his arms with an exaggerated thinking face. “No flares then. I guess we’ll have to make a smoke signal. See those pieces of wood?” 

Peter points to the driftwood lying around the beach, presumably dragged in by the storm. “We’re going to use it to build a bonfire, and then cover it in leaves!” 

Morgan claps her hands in delight. “Ooh just like the fire I built with Dad! We wanted to make it as tall as the sky but Mom said no.” Morgan looks disappointed.

Peter laughs and agrees. “Just like that, except the smoke will be as tall as the sky!”

Morgan’s eyes widen in excitement. She jumps to her feet. “I want to start now! Can we build it now, Petey?” 

Peter stands up next to her. “Sure! But you have to promise me that if you feel tired, you’ll come back to this tree and take a break. And if you get thirsty, you’ll tell me so I can open another coconut.”

Morgan nods eagerly. “I promise! Can we go now?”

Over the course of the next few hours, Peter instructs Morgan on how to tell if the driftwood is dry. He shows her how to pile the pieces of wood together, so that they don’t immediately fall over. When the pile gets too tall for her to stack pieces of wood on, they take a break and finish off another coconut, and part of the third. He tells her to use rocks to spell out “SOS” in the sand, while he piles the bigger pieces of driftwood- some the size of Morgan - on their pile, along with some fresh branches he broke to create smoke. 

They finish around midday, and Peter sends Morgan under the tree to rest. In the end, the pile is nearly as tall as Peter. He takes out the army knife and pulls out the two small magnifying glasses. He arranges them so that the sunlight is directly shining through both glasses and onto the wooden pile, and then goes under the tree to wait. 

It doesn’t take long for the wood to catch on fire. They cheer and hug. Peter retrieves his army knife, and they watch in satisfaction as their pile of wood catches on fire, sending black smoke billowing up into the air. 

They settle back down underneath the tree with the last coconut. Just as they finish it off, Morgan spots something in the ocean, near the horizon. As it approaches, the shape becomes more distinguished until Peter can tell it's a ship.

Morgan and Peter run out onto the beach and start waving their hands above their heads, trying to get the ship captain’s attention. Slowly, Peter watches as the ship veers off its course, and begins heading towards them. Morgan cheers and hugs Peter, but Peter doesn’t share the same sentiment. His spidey senses are giving him a dark feeling and sending goosebumps up his arms. 

Peter’s in the middle of trying to convince Morgan to wait beneath the tree when a shot rings out. Driven by instinct, Peter immediately tackles Morgan to the ground. Barely a second later, something hits the ground a few feet away from them. Peter turns back to the ship, and spots a glimmer of a sniper’s scope in the sunlight. 

“Petey!” Morgan cries out in fear, as Peter practically lifts her to her feet.

“Come on Morgan!” Peter’s pulling her off the beach, towards the jungle as fast as he can. “We have to hide!” 

Morgan stumbles after him. Another bullet hits the sand a few feet to their right, and they both flinch.

“Wai- NO!” As they reach the tree, Morgan jerks her hand out of Peter’s. “I don’t want to go in the forest! It’s scary! And Dad… how’s Dad going to find us in there?”

Peter pulls Morgan behind the tree so they’re temporarily hidden. He looks at Morgan. She’s terrified, shaking and there’s a few tears falling down her cheeks. He softens his tone. “Listen, Mr. S-Dad is going to see the bonfire, and then he’ll search every inch of this island, okay? But now we have to go-” Both Peter and Morgan flinch as another shot rings out. “-right now. Okay?”

Morgan nods, and Peter doesn’t waste any time. He picks Morgan up and runs as fast as he can through the jungle, crashing through the undergrowth. 

After what seems like an hour of running, Peter slows down, and then stops when he comes across a moderately small stream. He sets a strangely quiet Morgan down, kneels next to the river and splashes his face with water. To his surprise, it doesn’t smell salty. 

He cups some of the water in his hands and brings it up to his face. When he doesn’t get a warning from his spidey senses, he takes a sip. The water is cool and soothing. 

“Morgan, here.” Peter gently helps Morgan to the edge of the stream. “Cup your hands like this, and then drink.”

Morgan makes a face. “Isn’t the water mucky?”

“Uh, nope! I mean, probably not? But it’s a freshwater stream, and we really need to stay hydrated with this heat…” Peter takes another drink of water, and then looks around. His path of running through the jungle is clearly outlined with trampled plants and vines and branches snapped, and pushed out of the way. He had essentially led whoever was on that ship to their current location. 

“Petey, what are we going to do?” Morgan’s tearful brown doe eyes stare up at him. 

Peter rubs her head and stands up. “We just have to add a few steps to our plan.” He tries to sound confident. 

“What steps?”

“I’m not sure yet.” 

To his left, Peter sees a tall, sturdy looking tree with large branches and fairly thick leaves. To his right, there’s a few old branches with dried leaves falling off. Peter moves towards them, and lifts one up. There’s a large hole, maybe ten feet deep underneath.

Peter smiles. “We’re going to set a trap.”

~ ~ ~

Almost two hours later, four armed men enter the small clearing by the steam. Grunt number one turns to the guy at the back and says, “The trail ends here, sir.”

The boss snarls in anger. “Spread out and find them! We’re not letting those two Stark brats get away! We need the ransom money!”

Grunt numbers one, two and three spread out around the stream, looking for clues. 

After a few moments, grunt two spots a shoe lying on top of a few branches to the right. “Hey bo-” He steps closer to pick up the shoe, but the ground disappears, and he falls down, into a hole. 

At the same time, grunt number three spots a shoe lying on top of a couple vines to the left. He steps closer, and picks up the shoe. All of a sudden, a large rock with vines wrapped around it falls down and the vines jerk up, sending the man flying upwards in the air… in a net made of vines. He drops his gun in the commotion and starts swearing. 

The boss and grunt number one immediately move together so they are back to back and raise their guns. “What the hell…”

A large figure swings from the top of the tall tree that grunt number three is hanging in and crashes into grunt number one. They roll on the ground, and the figure manages to disarm the grunt and loop the vine around him, immobilizing him.

The click of bosses’ gun safety turning off stops the figure in his tracks. The boss has his gun trained on the figure’s forehead. “Don’t move! I’ll shoot!”

The figure stops moving and yells, “Now!”

A bright light is shone directly into the boss’s  eyes. He stumbles back disoriented and raises an arm to shield his eyes. The figure takes the opportunity to disarm the boss and tie him up in vines. 

Peter grabs the boss and drags him to the ten foot hole. He holds the guy by his arm and dangles him over the pit, in such a way that the boss can’t see beneath him. 

“Wait - no please! What-what do you want?”

“Why did you attack us?” 

“You’re Stark’s kid, right? He’s looking all over for you, there's suits flying everywhere. He’s looking in the wrong area though, any experienced sailor can tell you that. We figured we’d grab you guys and make some cash.”

Peter’s face is stone cold. “How many of you came here?”

“Just us four, kid. Now let me go-”

Peter smiles. “Okay.” And lets him fall into the pit. The boss screams, and then presumably falls on top of grunt number two. There’s a lot of muffled cursing. 

Peter looks up to the tall tree. “Morgan! You can climb down now!”

Morgan carefully climbs down and runs to Peter. “Petey! He said Dad’s looking for us!”

“That’s right! Good job with the light!” Peter takes the Swiss army knife from her, guides her around the traps and tied-up grunts and back to the path in the jungle. “We’re going to see if their ship has a radio we can use to call Dad.”

Morgan stops walking and turns to Peter. “But… I don’t want to go aboard the ship. It’s scary.”

Peter kneels down next to her so they’re face to face. “We defeated all of them back there, Morgan. They can’t hurt us anymore.”

“But what if they escape? Or if-if there’s more bad guys on the ship.”

“Then I’ll protect you, Morgan. Always.”

Morgan hesitates. “Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.” Peter stands back up. “You know… Dad always told me that you loved adventures.”

“I do! Me, Mom and Dad always go on adventures!”

“Yes? Well think of this as another adventure. We’re pirates and that ship on the beach has treasure!”

Morgan stares at Peter, her eyes glinting in delight, before she grabs Peter’s hand and pulls him toward the beach, “Come on Petey! We have treasure to find!”

~ ~ ~

A few hours later as the sun is setting, one very stressed-out Tony Stark steps out of his iron suit on the beach. Peter and Morgan immediately hop out of the ship to meet him. 

“DAAAAAAD!” Morgan runs up to Tony and hugs him. Tony kneels down and catches her and presses a kiss to her forehead. “You’re never going to believe what happened! Me and Petey had the best adventure ever! We drank coconuts and made a bonfire and then we raided the ship-”

Tony pulls back slightly without releasing Morgan from their hug to look at her. “Hold on, what?” Then he spots the black bandana on her head. He tugs at it. “Morgana, what is this?”

“We’re pirates! ARRRRRRRR!”

Tony looks up at Peter in confusion. “What?” Then he spots the chicken leg Peter’s eating.

Peter just smiles and responds, “We’re pirates.”

Tony shakes his head and picks Morgan up with one arm. He steps toward Peter, wraps an arm around him and kisses his forehead. “Mom’s on her way, and May is waiting with Happy in the Quinjet.” Tony pauses for a moment. “I’m just glad you guys are okay.” 

Peter relaxes into the hug, in a way he hasn’t since he arrived on the island. The same feeling of happiness and warmth he felt on the yacht while sitting with Tony is back. “Me too.”

“Hey Morgan,” Peter starts. “Do you want to show Dad your pirate key?” Peter feels Tony tense slightly and he realizes what he just said. Dad. Shit-shit-shit-shit-

“Yea! Look Dad!” Morgan pulls a key attached to a string from around her neck. “Me and Petey found it on the ship-” Morgan is interrupted with the sound of another suit flying by. The trio looks up, and its-

“Mom!” Morgan starts wiggling and Tony puts her back down on the beach, but he still keeps a hand on her shoulder until Pepper lands. Morgan runs up to her, and Pepper catches her and wraps her up in a tight hug. 

Peter steps away from Tony awkwardly. “Sorry about uh, calling you Dad-” 

“Hey, no it’s okay.” Tony gently pulls Peter back to him. “I know I’m not your biological dad, and I wasn’t the one to raise you, but I still think you as my kid. I wasn’t just worried about Morgan, I was worried about you too.”

Peter feels his face heat up. He wraps his arms around Tony and buries his face in the side of Tony’s neck. Tony chuckles, and runs a hand through Peter’s sandy curls. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Dad.” 

[dustingrayves]

quod

Pairing: addain [Esper/Sia], elsain [Infi/Sia] Rating: T WC: 2410 AU: gang au CWs: violence, alcohol

part of q-rious previously; quanta

There is no worse taste than a glass of shitty whiskey, left out all night and undiluted. And unfortunately, Esper doesn’t give a single fuck as he downs it, throat ablaze and every single taste bud protesting.

And, as if on cue, as if he hadn’t been thinking his morning couldn’t be worse with the hangover and lingering pain, someone knocks on his door. Or, more accurately, pounds onto the flimsy wood.

More on autopilot than not, Esper grabs his handgun, checking the clip and turning the safety off. Pure agitation drives him, overpowering even the world slightly swaying and his head pounding as he stalks to the door and poises his gun at the hip.

A few more knocks — punches, both to the wood and his head — and then the person grasps the doorknob and twists, opening the door.

It's obvious it takes them by surprise, because Esper has no problem kicking their legs out and dragging them inside.

"What the fuck do you want," he practically snarls, locking the door for a good measure. When he turns to lock the gun at the other and take a proper look, his finger almost slips on the trigger. He clicks his tongue, face twisting into a grimace as the redhead on the floor turns over. "You... What the fuck do you want here?!"

"What a friendly welcome," the redhead replies, but he does tense up when Esper cocks the gun. "Ugh, okay, jeez. I'm here to bring you back."

"Not in a million years. I should shoot you full of holes like Swiss cheese." And he wants to do just that, empty the whole mag and paint the hideous motel carpet red. It would be an improvement — both for the carpet and for himself.

"Just fucking listen to me, I don't know why you just up and left, bu--"

Bang!

Esper takes a deep breath, reveling in the clarity the pain from recoil of such a sudden shot brings him. Smoke still rises from the muzzle as he exhales.

"Give me one fucking reason not to steady my aim," he prompts, squaring up his shoulders in preparations for another shot. As much as he likes the burning spreading through him, he doesn't need to actually hurt his arm.

Infi tears his eyes from the hole in the carpet next to himself, ears still ringing. He's starting to think this had been a bad idea. This Esper seems incredibly unstable, and that's by his standards. Coupled with the vendetta he seems to be adamantly holding, that's a volatile combination.

"Sia misses you."

Esper hesitates; for but a moment something flashes in his eyes, the gun moves, but then the hardened glare is returning, lips pressing into a tight line. "He can get another bodyguard," he bites out.

"He wants you."

Infi shifts, propping himself up more properly. The lack of a bullet digging into his skull tells him he had struck a chord.

"He has you," Esper states. "Now, I want you to pick up your sorry ass and leave."

"I'm not a bodyguard."

"I know." Esper bites at his lip, thinking back to all he knows about this infernal boy. His lips crack into a grin on their own accord and soon enough, he's laughing, half-mad and full-volume. "Now— no."

He shakes his head and steps forward, kneeling before Infi. Finally they're on eye level. Esper's eyes look at him with nothing but disdain. "Oh, I know who you are. I know soooo much about you, Infi Elsword Perfect Fucking Sieghart. I've had to listen to how you did shit, what fucking flavor of McFlurry you liked and other useless pieces of fuck trivia for three fucking years. I want to kill you, I want you to suffer, I want to knock your goddamn teeth out--"

Esper's free hand winds back and then shoots out, and before Infi can register it, it connect to his jaw, forcing his head sideways. Pain blooms in the spot where Esper had hit him, but the other pulls away.

"You're getting off easy. If I see your stupid mug one more time, I will kill you. Sia was a better leader than you ever could be, anyhow," the tall man sits, and then he actually spits, right next to Infi's hand.

"Wait--" Infi calls out, but Esper simply twists on his heel and marches out of the room, opening the door only to be met with Sia's imposing figure in the doorway, blocking the exit.

"You!" Esper growls, clenching his hands into fists by his sides.

Sia glances from Esper's face, features twisted into a vicious snarl, to Infi, still sitting on the floor and with an already-forming bruise on his cheek. But otherwise, he seems fine; even with the gunshot earlier, he's not bleeding out all over. In fact, Sia spies the hole in the carpet, singed around the edges. So that's where the bullet had ended up.

"Esper," Sia breathes out. His expression is unreadable, but what else is new? "Come back with us."

"No chance in hell," Esper shoots back immediately. He tries the same trick, kicking out to buckle Sia's legs. He'll lock them in the room, that'd give him enough time to drive away before they could break the door, and--

He can't get any further with his mental plan, because Sia lifts a foot and stomps onto Esper's twisting his ankle painfully instead of falling. And he doesn't let up, leaving Esper rooted to the spot.

"Fuck--!"

"I don't want to hurt you," Sia tells him, proving his point by not taking out any of his weapons.

It only serves to make Esper's blood boil. Too fucking late. "Well, I want to hurt you."

Esper grounds himself on both feet, gritting his teeth through the pain of Sia stomping more, and elbows him into the solar plexus.

Sia splutters for breath, leaning over with pain, and Esper uses the opportunity to grip his shoulders and switch places with him, shoving the taller man backwards into the room.

He fumbles with the key just long enough for Infi to get to the door, but he manages to lock it after a short power struggle that leaves the hinges creaking. The banging returns, Infi's voice coming through, but Esper can't hear what he's saying through the pounding on his own heart in his ears. Probably pleas to be let out. Threats, maybe. He doesn't care.

The panic reaches him belatedly, how easily they traced him and wondering what he'd have to do to get away. And with the panic comes nausea, swift and strong.

He doubles over, clutching his stomach as it empties itself onto the porch of the motel room, painting the faded stone with the remnants of whiskey and chocolate.

He ends up on his hands and knees, dry heaving and with tears in his eyes, gazing into a puddle of his own bile. Pathetic. That's why he'd only been a replacement.

His gun weighs heavy in the pocket of his hoodie, fingers itching to go back inside and shoot the both of them. Why not, what's stopping him? Sia would fight back, probably. He knows how to. And Esper refuses to believe Infi had been a head of a gang without knowing at least the basics.

He sits up, swallowing the lingering taste of bile clinging to the inside of his mouth and throat. Infi is still pounding at the door and saying something. Esper still can't figure out what it is.

Impulsively, he kicks the door from this side, yelling, "Shut up already!"

The inside does indeed fall quiet, much to his surprise.

He sits there, shoulders heaving and stomach still twisted, but bit by bit, the sounds come back to him; the traffic on the main street, the crows overhead, the other loud tenants. As much as he loathes other people, he's glad.

"Esper?" comes from the inside, Sia's voice quieter and softer, He'd probably sat down by the door. Esper feels the urge to leave, to scream at him to keep quiet again, but he does neither. He feels tired all of a sudden, but the puddle of sick behind him might be the reason for that one. "Are you still there?"

Esper doesn't answer, from simple pettiness or because his voice isn't working, he doesn't know.

"Why did you leave, Es?" Sia asks.

Esper would love to believe he genuinely cares, but... Nevertheless, he scoots over, resting by the door. It's soothingly cool against his forehead. He tells himself it's to escape the disgusting smell of his puke. He tells himself a lot of things.

"What does that matter?" Esper grits his teeth; his nails dig into his palms, almost, almost unconsciously. "You don't need me anymore. Everything's gonna go back to the 'good old days' that you missed so much. It must be nice to have your lover back. So you don't need me anymore. So stop following me." Esper takes a breath when he stops talking. He'd gone off the rails there, for a moment. He's regretting it already, and Sia hadn't even replied yet.

"Esper..."

That isn't even a reply, at least not in his books. He can still remember how Sia's lips felt on his, forceful, cold from the snow, but most importantly, full of passion. He had tasted of the overpriced mulled wine. Since that say, Esper actually started liking the flavor.

Despite the many more kisses later, Esper's mind usually wanders to the first one. Cliche or not, it was special.

Then again, Sia is special.

"You can find a new bodyguard," he chokes out, surprised to hear his own voice almost breaking. "But a bodyguard having a bodyguard?" He snorts humorlessly, staring off at the row of flats on the other side of the street, banged up and closed down. "That's kinda stupid."

"You'd be a guard to Infi, not me--"

"I refuse!"

"Do you really hate him that much? Why?"

If Esper didn't know better, he'd say Sia sounds a little hurt. But why wouldn't he, when he's being so disdainful towards his dearest Infi. Esper's jaw starts hurting from how hard he clenches his teeth.

"I don't have an obligation to answer you," he says finally, swallowing the biting voice at the back of his mind screaming, he ruined everything! There really wasn't that much to ruin in the first place. "In fact, I don't even have to stay here."

"Then why do you?" Sia questions, softer.

Esper's eyebrows lower, eyes trained to a scrap of paper floating in the breeze in one of the windows. "I really don't know."

"Will you open the door?"

"No."

"Would you talk to me if I knocked it down?"

"...No."

"Okay."

Whether willing to admit it or not, Esper is grateful the other isn't about to knock the door down yet. The barrier feels safe, and the fact that Sia can't see him makes it even better. He must look like a mess. Probably as bad as the rented room, due for a makeover years ago.

"Esper... Why don't you want to come back?"

"Why do you want me to?"

"Because I miss you," Sia says, causing Esper's nails to dig into his palms even further.

"Bullshit. You've got Infi back."

"But I miss you even so. It's not like Infi returning would make me stop caring about you."

"Why not?" Esper bites out. He's going crazy sitting here and having nothing to fiddle with. He fight the urge to pull out the gun again.

"Jesus, Es, is that what you thought, you--" Sia cuts himself off. Muffled whispers fill the room, too distorted and muffled for Esper to make out.

"Is this about the kiss at the penthouse?"

Esper freezes at the words, nails breaking skin and drawing blood. He springs up, breathing labored all of a sudden.

"Fuck you, Sia," he hisses, "I'm leaving!"

Sia pounds at the door from the inside. "Wait!" he calls, sounding desperate and pleading, and Esper would be lying if he said it didn't work, because he stops, whole body tense as a bowstring.

"That's it, isn't it?" Sia continues. Esper doesn't know if he knows he had stopped, or if he's just shooting in the dark. Not literally, though Esper is sure he has a gun on hand, too. "I'm sorry, I wasn't the one who initiated it."

"What does it matter? What are you getting at with this?" Esper can feel himself get snappier and snappier, but he can't help it. He still wants to pick himself up and leave.

"Of course it matter, we had a thing--"

"You fucked me on a table once, so what?" Esper cuts him off again, doing his best not to remember the scene, or how Sia looked between his legs, or the things he'd said. Tough luck.

"Well, it means something to me, and it sounds like it did to you too."

"Yeah, sure," Esper drawls, prolonging the words on purpose. "You called me by the wrong name, really gets me going." His sarcasm is almost palpable.

"Esper--"

"Oh, now you remember my name, huh?"

"No, that's not... listen, can you open the door? I want to speak to you face to face."

Esper hesitates, staring at the door for a long, long while before mentally slapping himself and fitting the key into the lock.

Sia opens the door almost hesitantly. Esper stands there on the porch, wild hair, hangover and all, slumped and betraying his own greatness. And he doesn't say a thing.

"Es," Sia calls out, taking a step closer to the other, but he stops himself.

"Well, say whatever the fuck you wanted to say so I can leave," Esper huffs back, making the way he hugs himself look like folding his arms.

Sia steels himself, suppresses a sigh, and steps forward. Esper tenses up when he gets into his personal space, but otherwise doesn't more. Infi watches them from inside the room. He'd definitely been the more understanding of the two, but Sia can't blame Esper.

Trust comes hard and heavy in their line of work and life, and having betrayed that, even unknowingly and unwillingly, he's lucky the other isn't holding the gun again. That could, of course, change at any moment, though.

So he doesn't wait.

Sia leans down and when he's close enough, towering above Esper, and presses their lips together.

[copias-thrall]

Do you ship any ghouuuls? ;)

OMGosh yes! I love the ghoulies. I don’t really have any hcs on the ghoulettes (there just isn’t enough footage of them for me to really formulate opinions on them), but those bois!

*M/M & Lite BDSM/Rough Sex below*

I’ll start with the most conventional and obvious: Aether & Dewdrop. 

Talk about pigtail pulling! Dew always wants his man’s attention on him and when Aether is too busy, well, Dew can overreact. To anyone else Dew is an absolute Dom, but Aether doesn’t put up with his posturing bullshit. He’ll let Dewdrop boss him around on stage, but once they’re back in their bunks, Dew knows he’s going to get it. Aether is the dad of the group and he’ll treat Dew like a petulant child if insists on acting like one.

He’ll take Dewdrop over his knee—Dew can squirm all he wants, but Aether has the muscle behind him. Now, Aether isn’t a sadist. He’s not punishing Dewdrop to get off on his pain. Dew has to want to be punished, has to admit he needs a spanking. Dewdrop gets all growly and probably nips at Aether—which doesn’t impress Aether at all—until he finally spits out that: yes, he’d like to be punished. 

Aether knows Dewdrop is just overly worked up and needs centering. He starts with 20 swats and adds 5 more for each nip that broke his skin. Aether finds that a firm, flat hand is usually enough to satisfy Dew … but on occasion Dew will ask him to use the ping pong paddle he swiped from one of their tour stops that he keeps for this express purpose.

He has Dewdrop keep count, which he does while snarling and spitting—but if his hard cock rutting against Aether’s thicc thigh is anything to go by, Dewdrop is getting what he wanted, getting lost in all the pleasurable sensations.

Aether would love to sooth the sting once he’s finished, but Dewdrop’s on him in a second, clambering into his lap and grappling with Aether’s mask. Unlike human lovers, Dew knows he can be as messy and sloppy with his open-mouthed kisses as possible. He loves grabbing onto Aether’s horns and smashing their mouths together as he grinds his crotch into Aether’s growing bulge.

Sometimes Dew will allow Aether to go soft and slow with him, letting Aether run his big hands down his sides and back, having him suck his long fingers—but when Dewdrop is in such a passion, Aether lets Dew manhandle him as he sees fit.

However, Aether already has an inkling for what Dew wants, and he’s already grabbing Dew by the ass so he can lay down without bucking Dew out of his lap. Dewdrop would bite your face off (no literally, there’s already been one unfortunate case that resulted in a lot of stitches) if you dared suggest he might like how easily Aether can lift him around, but—well, he does.

There’s much shifting around as they start to divest themselves and each other of their uniforms (The Cardinal gets tetchy when they rip them). Dewdrop is always pleased to see that Aether’s dick is just as hard and flushed as his own. He likes to lean down and take it into his mouth for a wet, sloppy blow job. Aether’s cock isn’t very long, but what it lacks in inches it more than makes up for in girth. Dew can’t suck him for long without getting an ache in his jaw, but he does it just long enough for Aether’s breaths to quicken and low whines to emanate from his throat. Sometimes Dewdrop will allow Aether to gently pet his head, but usually he’s still too worked up at this point for such softness.

When Dew deems Aether slick enough, he’ll finish with a pop before positioning himself above Aether and slowly lowering himself onto his cock, his claws digging into Aether’s meaty sides as he accommodates the stretch. His eyes rolling back and an abortive twitch of the hips is all that shows the effect this has on Aether. Dewdrop is growling and squirming in ecstasy as he gets used to being filled. Aether may be the gentler of the Ghouls, but he’s still a Ghoul and lying there motionless while surrounded by Dew’s tightness is beginning to grate on him. He gives Dew a low, throaty warning growl to move it along.

Dewdrop snaps at him in response, but begins to move himself up and down on Aether’s cock. Aether’s answer is more of an approving purr as he finally gets some friction on his throbbing hardness. Dew plants his hands down on Aether’s solid wall of a chest and doesn’t so much bounce as slam himself down into Aether’s lap over and over again. He loves how from this angle he can pretty much hit his prostrate on every shift.

Aether is panting and squirming underneath him with the effort of holding himself back, but he knows Dewdrop won’t tolerate him taking over until he’s close to blowing. Dew loves this, loves seeing his man a silently-begging mess just for him. That’s why he’ll let Aether grab and twist at his flesh, even though there really isn’t anything much to play with. It creates the most delicious bruises that Dew will admire in the mirror later until they fade.

The closer Dewdrop gets, the more tactile he is—he loves shoving his fingers down Aether’s throat as far as they’ll go before Aether starts coughing, loves pulling his mouth to the side to watch the saliva dribbles down his chin. (He’ll have to have those lips encircling his cock later.) Aether reaches around Dew, kneading his ass lightly before expertly pressing his thumb to where Dewdrop’s rim is stretched around him; he knows how crazy this drives Dew.

Unsurprisingly, Dewdrop hisses at the intensity and falters. Aether takes this as his cue to grab onto Dew’s hips for purchase and start really pounding up into him. Dew is writhing and letting out little “Uhns” with each punch. Aether grabs at the back of Dew’s neck with his big paw of a hand and directs Dewdrop down to kiss him. The combination of Aether sucking his tongue out of his mouth and the sweat-slick friction of his cock trapped between their stomachs  has Dewdrop lighting up and cumming hard between them.

Dew’s too busy lost in his own orgasm to notices that Aether’s still pounding into him pretty hard before giving one final, deep thrust as he climaxes. Aether’s still twitching with the aftershocks when Dewdrop, hissing at the sudden overstimulation, stills him with a hand to his chest. Aether’s panting pretty hard and Dew can feel the rabbiting of his heart. He swipes his fingers through the mess on Aether’s stomach, rubbing some in and catching some up for Aether to suckle off his fingers.

Luckily with neither of them in heat, there’s no catching to be careful of, so Dewdrop can roll off Aether, thighs trembling, and snuggle into his solid side. Don’t call him out on it though.

Face.

Stitches.

Poor Rain. Rain has such a crush on Aether, but Aether doesn’t really see him like that. Also: Drewdrop would end him if he tried anything. He’s peeked in more than once at the sound of the two fucking, only to have Dewdrop snarl and give him the finger. (Dew is just insecure—he has this mistaken idea Aether would end up liking Rain better.) Rain’ll just carry his torch from afar …

Mountain just kinda stays out of all the drama. There are plenty of Siblings of Sin and other Ghouls around who are more than willing to climb him. He’s probably dabbled within the band, but after getting a better sense of all the dynamics, he’s out.

Swiss lives up to his name being pretty multi with the others. He swings in and out of the other Ghoul’s beds. He’s particularly interested in Dewdrop when Dew’s on his heat. Everyone can tell when Dew’s going into it—if his even shorter temper wasn’t a clue, his smell is exacerbated from running around on stage and the hot lights. It stirs something in Swiss and drives him crazy. Aether’s more than happy to let Swiss have Dew for the peaks of his heat—he doesn’t like to play that hard, and he knows once Dewdrop’s hormones calm down, he’ll be sought out for a cuddle. (Dude, stitches.)

With Dewdrop’s musky heat-scent wafting around the stage, Swiss can’t help to egg Dew on—throwing picks at him, spitting water, shamelessly flirting with the Cardinal. It gets Dew’s blood boiling every time. Post-ritual they are a hot mess together. Swiss has wound Dewdrop up so much that he’s practically vibrating. Dew is spitting mad and circling him, growling out a warning—which is exactly what Swiss wants: he sees this fight for dominance as foreplay. 

There are no warning nips here—Swiss and Dewdrop aim to bite hard and break skin. It’s not a particularly pretty display: the two circle and lunge at each other, swiping out with claws until they’re both rolling around on the floor. They’re already covered in scratches and bruises, clothes slashed and torn (The Cardinal always tsks at the destruction of yet another uniform), until one of them gets the upper hand. On his heat Dew’s a pretty consistent victor, finally manhandling Swiss onto his stomach so he can straddle his hips and bite down on the back of Swiss’s neck, rutting jerkily. 

(Not to say Swiss infrequently comes out on top—he’s been known to put Dewdrop in his place, fangs firmly clamped on Dew’s nape as he growls, shaking Dew’s scruff slightly until the smaller Ghoul stops squirming around. Either outcome is fine with Swiss—it’s going to be a long couple of days and Dew needs to be fucked as much as he needs to do the fucking.)

Dewdrop is pretty crazed at this point, hopped up on hormones and adrenaline, struggling with Swiss’s suspenders and ripping his pants at the seams. Swiss doesn’t put up much of fight—this was his goal anyway—just an obligatory struggle to keep Dew in his frenzied state. Dew’s mouth is watering hard, saliva leaking out as he gulps for air. He gets Swiss’s now bare ass in the air (rolling his eyes when he sees the plug already in there, which he hastily removes) and gives it a few love bites as he takes his hard cock out of his pants—he’d been at half-mast since they started rolling around and has only gotten consistently harder since he won. Maybe later he’ll tease Swiss’s prostrate with his long fingers, but right now Dewdrop can only think about the relief he’ll get from the burning under his skin by burying his dick in Swiss.

He yanks Swiss back onto him by the hips, his eyes rolling back into his head at the feeling of tightness around him, Swiss grunting in pleasure at the sensation of being filled. It’s not gentle, but that’s the point. Dew grabs onto Swiss’s horns (the masks got ripped off before they even hit the floor) to steady his thrusts. He pulls himself out just enough that he can forcefully slam back in. Swiss tries to counter as much as he can with his head yanked back and on all fours, but it’s not quite enough to get him there—Dewdrop’s cockhead is only grazing his prostate every couple of thrusts—and Dew’s pretty firmly in the mindset that Swiss will cum on his cock or not all. 

Swiss needn’t worry too much, though—the closer Dewdrop gets, the more he wants to see and feel Swiss come undone below him. Dew lets go of Swiss’s horns, so he can angle his head down. Swiss readily collapses into his own arms, letting Dew take the reigns fully. And—oh … yes, riGHT  T H E R E . He’s moaning and keening now, hoping he cums before Dewdrop does, and the way Dewdrop is panting and gripping his hips means he’s not far off.

Dew plasters himself over Swiss’s back so he can lick and suck at the bite mark (that Swiss will wear proudly all week) that he left. The new angle and the feel of Dew’s hot mouth on such a vulnerable spot tips Swiss over the edge, his cock kicking as he shoots all over the floor. The feel of Swiss clenching around him and the sound of Swiss grunting in time to his climax has Dew giving one last, hard pump into Swiss before he’s growling out in pleasure at his own. His heat instincts take over, which has him pulling out before he’s caught so he can mark Swiss—a warning to the other Ghouls to stay away from his prize for the time being. Swiss huffs at the loss, but they’re just getting started.

If Swiss manages to best Dewdrop, there’s not really much change in the dynamic. Swiss may have won topping rights, but Dew’s going to lay him on his back and fuck himself as he sees fit, taking his pleasure from the other Ghoul. Which is fine for Swiss—he’s happy to lay back and let Dewdrop do all the work. He’ll even lend a helping, spit-slicked hand. Swiss loves the feeling of Dewdrop getting impossibly harder before he’s spilling over the tight fist of Swiss’s fingers. Dew’s so entranced by watching Swiss lick his spend off his fingers that Dew doesn’t even realize Swiss has gotten off until he tries to move and realizes he’s caught. 

That asshole.

And then there’s Rain. More often than not the other smol Ghoul just wants to be held and petted and adored. Swiss loves the feeling of the smaller Ghoul in his big spoon, who doesn’t even mind if Swiss ruts against him. Occasionally Rain will maneuver Swiss’s large hands into his pants where he can pet his dick. He loves the feeling of being held close and safe while he writhes under Swiss’s expert ministrations, the larger Ghoul’s head hooked over his shoulder so he can see the glistening pink head of Rain’s cock disappearing in his fist. 

Swiss knows Mountain will say no, but he still tries every so often. The look of utter incredulousness on the tall Ghoul’s face makes it worth it every time.

Aether is a trickier situation for Swiss. Dewdrop doesn’t even care about being a hypocrite, but he hates other Ghouls touching Aether. Dew usually only allows it if he can watch or—better yet—direct. Occasionally he’ll let Swiss fuck Aether, but Dew would much rather watch his man’s thighs tense and his ass flex as he pumps into Swiss. He’ll stand over the other two, directing a leg here, and hand there—now go fast, now slow down. He can be magnanimous, though—he always waits for his paramours to finish before making them open their mouths to take his cum as he jacks off over them.

Swiss loves it this way: Why tie himself to one Ghoul when he has a loftier goal in mind … (*cough* *cough* Copia *cough* *cough)

(I’ll do a separate one for Cardinal Copia and the Ghouls)