#era iii ghouls | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nihildenial · 4 months ago

Text

Maiden Voyage by nihil-denial

Papa Emeritus III x Omega/Mist/Crust/Alpha/Aero

Rated T

Fluff, brotherly love, No smut, implied/referenced relationships, house cleaning

Word count: 3,964

There weren’t many rules in the Church of Unholy Satan’s Los Angeles Ministry. There were no rules on dress outside of the once-a-week Black Mass, no limits on who could attend, and freedom from any gender or sexual norms.

Initiates and Siblings flowed in and out of the large cathedral-centered campus daily. Mingled between the devil worshippers were members of the Church’s Clergy that mostly wore their given vestments; more so to express the years of servitude and fashion sense rather than conforming to a papacy expectation.

Life under Anti-Pope Papa Emeritus II was considered paradise for those who lived within the grounds of the Ministry. He was the second eldest son of Papa Emeritus Nihil, and succeeded his brother, Papa Emeritus I, after a twenty-year reign.

Papa II had headed the L.A. Ministry for five years already and has already done one successful North American gospel entertainment tour. The Emeritus bloodline was famously talented in the fine arts, with all sons especially gifted with sinfully dulcet voices.

But for however much Papa II’s congregation was stable and happy, the Clergy was always looking to the future of the Ministry. As Head of Clergy, Sister Imperator kept track of the Emeritus bloodline through Papa Nihil’s many escapades (finally getting him to stop after five sons, the last two being twins she bore herself).

The third son was destined to become Papa Emeritus III in his father’s lineage. Papa Nihil, in his early rockstar lifestyle, decided rather than remember the names the various mothers gave their sons, he would name them by their prophesized reign.

The third son went by ‘Terzo,’ meaning ‘third’ in Nihil’s native language of Italian.

Terzo was considered to be the most handsome Emeritus son; his mother’s Sicilian heritage gifted him with olive skin, thick, raven-black hair, and a devilishly charming smile. He was constantly charming initiates and siblings of all genders into his bed (or the hallway…or under the stairs…or out in the forest).

Papa II was born four years before Terzo. Many Siblings of Sin within the Ministry couldn’t believe this, as the papal vestments made Papa II seem so much older than Terzo.

Terzo used this discrepancy to schmooze his way through the educational track of the Ministry, however his parallel lifestyle to his father’s early years eventually caught up with him.

“You fall asleep during Black Mass, refuse to help with unholy communion, and have had three pregnancy scares in the past few months. This may be the Church of Satan, but even the Devil has to be responsible sometimes,” Papa Emeritus II, ‘Secondo,’ scolded his younger brother during a clergy meeting. “You are not receiving the title of Head Cardinal.”

“I am an Emeritus son! I deserve that title! If I don’t have it, then I’ll be worth nothing!” Terzo complained. “I volunteered for the Lupercalia feast this year, and I am trying to further the Emeritus legacy by bringing more children into the world.” He was prone to whining when he didn’t get his way, but even here he could somewhat see the error of his ways. Perhaps he has been a bit too careless with the Sisters lately.

Secondo’s skull paint does not betray the pain he feels for not giving his brother the title. “You need to find something other than power and wealth to make you happy. Being Head Cardinal is a large task and I don’t feel you’re committed to the cause of doing this to help others.”

Sister Imperator’s frown in visible, “We have free condoms for a reason, Terzo. I will put you on the consideration list of alternates, but you will stay an acolyte Cardinal. You are dismissed.”

Terzo kept his shoulders level as he strides out of the cathedral’s meeting room. Only once he was behind the closed doors of his bedroom does he let his posture slouch. His companion cat twines his fluffy black form around the hem of Terzo’s black cassock.

“Buon pomeriggio, Bernini,” He sweeps the cat into his arms like a baby. “I am not returning a happy man, however.”

Bernini’s golden eyes close in happiness as he pets him, uncaring of his owner’s plight.

“I need to show them that I am indeed ready to become Head Cardinal. If I wait on the alternate list, it could be literal years before Sister Imperator decides to review me! Maybe I’ve been a bit crazy, but I am simply indulging in the pleasures of the Earth. I need a way to display that I’m capable of helping others,” He sighs heavily.

The Maine Coon only continues his content purring.

Terzo’s stomach grumbles and rouses the cat, who jumps from his arms at being disturbed. “I guess I should go get dinner. I’ll bring it back here, perhaps.” He walks from his bedroom in the papal building of the sprawling campus to the dining hall connected to the main cathedral.

“Good evening, Terzo! How did the meeting go?” Sister Rebecca greets as he steps up to receive a hearty serving of the night’s large pot of authentic spaghetti.

“Buon pomeriggio, Sister. It was not, ah, successful,” He tries to give her a smile, but it falls flat.

The older woman spoons an extra meatball onto his plate. “I know it’s disappointing, but I agree with them. You’ll get there. You show so much promise as a Head Cardinal, though you do need to tamp down that wild side or else you’ll end up like your father.”

Terzo smirks a bit at that. He’s managed to stay off drugs (he doesn’t count cigarettes as drugs), and he doesn’t ever plan on getting on them. He’s not stupid. “I wish that there was a way to prove that I’m worthy. How do I know this won’t affect me becoming Papa?”

“Why are you worrying about becoming Papa? You have so much freedom!”

“Thanks for the great dinner, Sister,” Terzo says politely and takes his plate. After chatting briefly with a Brother of Blasphemy, the acolyte Cardinal begins the trek back to his room.

He nods in greeting to the Siblings and clergy members he passes, eventually letting himself daydream about the ways he could improve his standing for the promotion. His feet take him through the entrance of the papal suite building on instinct.

Terzo goes to turn the last corner before his room when he slams into a solid body.

His dinner smashes back into the rich black of his fascia belt and the plate falls to shatter on the stone floor between Terzo and the newcomer.

Terzo yelps, “What the fuck?! Watch where you’re going, you brick wall—” He was fully expecting it to be his father, Papa Nihil, or his brother, Papa Emeritus I. His green and white eyes snap to the silver elemental symbols embroidered on the newcomer’s breast.

It’s a Nameless Ghoul.

And judging by the white highlight of the Quintessence symbol, he’s run into Omega.

To audience members outside of the Ministry campus, the Nameless Ghouls were simply masked musicians that performed the dark gospels alongside the touring Papa. To those within the Ministry, the truth about the Nameless Ghouls was known; they were bound demonic spirits, gifted with infernal talent and powers that helped gain followers for their master.

They weren’t inherently evil, but after a Sibling became angry and struck down the first ever summoned Water Ghoul; Sister Imperator and Papa Emeritus I created a rule that no one outside of the High Clergy was allowed to interact with a Nameless Ghoul. Siblings and lower ranked Cardinals were allowed to talk to them in emergencies, but most interactions ended after a friendly wave or nod of greeting in the hallways during Black Mass.

The rule meant that the Nameless part of the Ghoul’s identities had to end within the Ministry campus in case something like that ever happened again. Fire was Alpha, Air was Aero, Earth was Crust, Quintessence was Omega, and the second Water Ghoul was named Lake.

Since Terzo was an acolyte, he was not a part of the High Clergy and therefore not allowed to directly interact with the Ghouls.

Oh shit! Terzo screams in his head. “Mi dispiace,” He takes a step back but slips on the spilled spaghetti.

The demon best known for his part as rhythm guitarist quickly grabs onto the front of Terzo’s cassock to keep the human from hitting the ground. He holds until Terzo can regain his footing on stone that isn’t covered in pasta.

“Fuck, it got on yours too,” Terzo complains as he sees a matching splatter on the front of Omega’s short tunic.

“Don’t worry about it, we have plenty of uniforms,” The six foot-five Ghoul says, his voice a low rumble. “I can call housekeeping and bring a new plate for you.”

Terzo doesn’t trust himself not to say something stupid, so he nods. Omega was much nicer than Terzo thought he’d be. The outright care even when both of them were breaking room by just being in each others’ presence was refreshing. The Ghoul’s gleaming silver mask accentuates the indigo irises that meet his.

The toned arm muscles and wide chest would feel so good pressing Terzo against the wall.

“You’re Terzo, right? I’ll go take care of this,” Omega places a hand over where a human’s heart would be, bows, and steps down the hallway.

Terzo stares after him until his form vanishes around the corner. That Ghoul was so fucking hot. Every muscled DILF fantasy Terzo kept locked inside his brain explodes behind his eyelids. Sin incarnated, the ultimate lay.

Suddenly, he has an idea.

Sibling Ezra is knocking on Terzo’s door an hour later, a tray with an identical plate of spaghetti sitting on it. Next to the bundle of silverware is a folded letter with a purple wax seal. Ezra hands him the tray and takes the soiled cassock with a smile.

Bernini the Main Coon is very excited at the smell of food, and jumps up to the armchair across from the chaise.

“You just had your own dinner!” He complains as the feline keeps trying to snag noodles.

With the spaghetti eaten, Terzo looks to the letter on the tray. The wax seals bears the symbols of the five elements overlapping together, the official symbol for Ghoul affairs within the postal system of the Ministries. It takes some time to open the white envelope without damaging the wax, but he manages to pry it off mostly intact. Inside the envelope is a single slip of parchment marked with neat, black writing.

Cardinal Terzo,

I am sorry about our run-in yesterday. I hope replacing your dinner will assuage any ill feelings you have towards us Ghouls.

Omega, Quintessence Ghoul

The demon was worried about how Terzo would view the Ghouls? He’s the one that ran into Omega, not the other way around. Something aches in Terzo’s heart. It’s been nearly ten years since the death of Chain Ghoul at the hands of a Brother, and as far as Terzo had grown up with, none of the other Siblings ever had the same ill feelings towards the musicians even before that situation. Perhaps Omega is concerned about if Sister Imperator found out that the two of them had been communicating.

Terzo could use this to his advantage. If he were to go to the next monthly Clergy meeting with a Ghoul utterly devoted to him, his brother’s hand would be forced to give Terzo a position within the High Clergy. They can’t get rid of him because he’s an Emeritus.

But the image of those indigo eyes creased in betrayal as Omega inevitably finds out Terzo was just using him, stings more than the rejection.

The raven-haired man thinks to all of the rituals he’s seen his brothers perform. All of the Ghouls were polite, talented, and sinfully built like Greek statues. They were part of a pack that fought, fucked, and performed together. Maybe…becoming Head Cardinal wasn’t what Terzo wanted anymore. More paperwork? That didn’t sound like fun. Why did he want to be Head Cardinal anyway?

Once he reached leader status, he’d be shipped off to a Ministry branch to lead his own congregation. There’s no telling where he’d end up. Cardinal Rein was just shipped off to Forks, Washington. Sure, there’s a chance Terzo could end up in Las Vegas or New York, but those are fully staffed and never have a shortage of willing applicants.

If Terzo was going to find satisfaction in his place at the Ministry before he ascended to Papal status, the Ghouls were probably the best way for him to feel like he’s fulfilling something in his life.

Ghost practiced before dinner every third day, so Terzo had to wait two days before he could conveniently place himself nearby.

Secondo was dressed in one of his well-tailored suits, sunglasses on his nose as he came in from his drive coming back from the city. He immediately notices his nosey brother lingering near the door to the practice hall.

“Fratello! How is the weather outside?” Terzo says innocently.

“It’s warm…as usual for California,” The bald man says suspiciously. “Shoo, the Ghouls will be here soon for practice.”

Terzo lifts himself from where he was leaning against the wall. “Oh, I know. I was hoping I could watch.”

“…You’ve never shown interest before.”

The raven-haired Cardinal plucks an invisible piece of lint from the skirt of his black cassock. “If I’m being truthfully honest with you, brother, our meeting the other day has made an impact on me. I’ve been too reckless with my actions. If I’m ever going to become Papa or simply a Head Cardinal, I need to take my duties seriously. So, seeing how the band performs will help me gain insight into how to better serve our Lord.”

Secondo is glad he’s still wearing his Aviators, so Terzo doesn’t see the unbelieving look he has. Oh well. “A few Siblings sit in, so feel free to sit with them, but if I catch you talking during practice you can go sulk in your room.”

Terzo salutes him and opens the practice hall door with a dramatic flourish.

Sister Terra and Sibling Zelda are already sitting in the two rows of pews at the back of the room, both engaged in thick tomes and hand signing between each other. They look up when the door opens and wave at Papa II.

He takes off his sunglasses and waves back. “So, like I said, Terra and Zelda use signs to communicate during practice. It would be good if you could also learn that then help with the classes.”

Terzo resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I’ll get right on that.” He saunters over to the couple and sits in the pew in front of them.

Secondo tries to shake his suspicions as he sets up his microphone and check over the racks of guitars and the drum kit.

As usual, Mist is the first to arrive. “Good afternoon, Papa,” She greets.

Crust’s lanky form follows in after her, then Aero. Both male-oriented Ghouls give their own greetings before going to their instruments.

The sound of arguing typically precedes Alpha and Omega, and today is no different.

“Maybe if you actually cleaned your nest, they would want to sleep with you!” Omega says as he pushes the door open. “Scenting and not washing clothes for five weeks are two different things.”

Alpha’s slightly smaller size does nothing to intimidate him from firing back as he enters. “Maybe if you weren’t such a brute then I would have the energy after sex to clean! It’s difficult to do laundry when your back is blown out every night!”

Getting railed to the point of not being able to move? Sounds like an issue I want, Terzo thinks. He stands. “I can come help clean out the den! I want to take on some volunteering hours, and what better way than to help the musicians that devote themselves to Papa?”

Secondo’s lips thin into a frown. “Terzo! Quiet!” He hisses. He’ll allow Terzo to talk to the ghouls, only to not reprimand him when he appears to be genuine.

Terzo shrugs and steps over to the slight platform. “You haven’t started practicing yet. I can come help after dinner? Sibling Ezra has a sweet spot for me and I’ll get the materials back as soon as possible for you.”

Omega’s indigo eyes rove over him. He knows the Ghoul notices the extra tight cinching at his waist, and the way his make up is applied with perfect edges. “You would do that for us Ghouls?”

“It��s absolutely dreadful,” Mist warns. “There’s a reason none of us touch it.”

Terzo waves her concern away. “It’ll be no problem for me. What do you say, Papa? Can your helpful brother work with your Ghouls?”

Secondo glances to Omega, who shrugs helplessly. “Alright; even if this goes against the rule—it is pretty disgusting and needs to be cleaned.”

“Great! I’ll see all of you bright and early tomorrow morning then!” Terzo proclaims and strides to the door.

“Wait, weren’t you going to watch?” Secondo calls after him.

Terzo pauses halfway out the door. “I need to, uh, prepare some Ghoul-approved cleaning supplies.”

Omega sighed for the inevitable disgust that would overcome the human as he waited outside the stairs of the Ghoul wing. Living in the crypt had its advantages, such as being able to see and hear whoever comes down to fetch one of the demons. He perks up when he hears footsteps coming down the stone staircase. Terzo steps into view and Omega’s jaw drops.

The human is dressed in a Sisters’ habit; complete with a tight pencil skirt, low-cut blouse, and veil. He holds up a bucket full of different sprays and sponges. “I’m ready to help!”

Omega wants to sink to his knees in front of the human. It’s been so long since any of the Ghouls had a human in their nest or pack. “You’re certainly wearing that outfit,” he chokes out.

Terzo does a small spin, grinning at how easy it was to chat with him. “Hot Ministry maid Terzo, at your service. Now, let’s see what I can do for you wonderful demons.” He gestures for Omega to open the doors.

“I’m just giving you one last warning. It’s really, really bad in there. Alpha will try to coax you into not doing anything because he thinks it’s fine. If you leave now, I can spare you the horror.”

So Ghouls have a tendency for the dramatic. How bad can it be? The human rolls his mismatched eyes, conveniently lined with thick wings. “I forget, who’s the one trying to coax me out of this? Step aside, Guitar boy.”

Omega obliges and opens the heavy wooden door. The clashing scents of sweat, sex, and something sour fills the corridor.

“Oh my unholy Lucifer…” Terzo nearly drops the cleaning bucket as he steps inside.

This was not going to be a situation where Terzo could ‘heehee’, while bending over in his short skirt and pretend to feather-dust.

The crypt was originally the Cathedral’s, well, crypt. When Papa Nihil summoned the first Ghouls back in 1969 the niches full of urns and coffins were relocated to a cemetery on the edge of the Ministry grounds. A central circular den was dug through the marble floors and lined with cushions, similar to the era’s conversation pits featured in houses. The three embalming rooms at the back of the space were gutted and remade into bedrooms.

Today, what should be a comfortable and clean nest for the pack of demons is a tangled mess of sex-soiled blankets, rubbish, and what looks like…mold.

Terzo is honestly shocked. The Ghouls always seemed so put together!

Mist, Crust, Alpha, and Aero stand on the other side of the den with guilty expressions.

“Yeah…” Alpha rubs the back of his neck.

“How…How did it get like this?” Terzo asks.

The Air Ghoul kicks a crushed soda can from the edge of the den. “It’s kind of just got away from us. Usually we have our heat and ruts at the same time, but this winter we got them consecutively for nearly three months straight.”

Terzo sets down his bucket and shucks off the veil from his head. He does his best to fold it and put it in with the supplies so it doesn’t touch the sticky floor. “We may need to throw away a lot of this.”

Alpha gasps, “No!”

“Alpha, there’s mold on these. I honestly should be wearing a mask,” Terzo sighs.

“I’m not getting rid of these. We can wash them!”

Crust lays a comforting hand on his pack mate’s shoulder. “Imagine how nice your rut will be with nice, soft cushions. We won’t have to worry about getting the cleaning Sibling sick or deal with the awful textures.”

“This is a good thing,” Omega agrees. “If Terzo is willing to help?”

Terzo’s motivation for volunteering for this falters. He could be selfish and leave them to their mess and continue working towards being Head Cardinal to make his father ‘proud,’ or he can buckle down and scoop some of the goodness in his heart and help these creatures.

“Of course I am,” Terzo says, genuine and willing to work. “You Ghouls deserve only the best accommodations.”

Secondo doesn’t believe his eyes. In two weeks of nearly non-stop work and elbow grease, his brother and the Ghouls have completely transformed the crypt. The cream-colored marble floors actually sparkle, the den has freshly washed blankets and quilts, and the Ghouls’ shared bedrooms are organized and vacuumed.

He was worried that the $2,000 dollars Terzo put in as an expense was being used to rebuild the destroyed floor and moldy cabinets.

Omega proudly leads Secondo and Sister Imperator around the den. “It took lots of convincing, but Terzo and I managed to get Alpha to get rid of his hoard of expired food and gross blankets.”

The two humans see Terzo, Alpha, and Mist at the kitchenette on the far left wall, the sounds of cooking floating through the open room.

His brother was actually cooking?

“Ah, Fratello, Sister! Welcome!” Terzo calls. He steps away from the stove, handing the wooden spoon to Alpha. “We’re just finishing up a feast of Linguine alle Vongole to surprise you with.”

Secondo could tear up at how radiant his brother seems when Omega sweeps him into an embrace.

Sister blinks at the display of affection, especially when the other Ghouls do their own sweet greeting to Terzo and Omega.

“You look so happy,” Secondo says quietly.

“I am happy. The cleaning was tough, but we got through it together and built a space that will be comfy for us to spend the upcoming midsummer Heats.” Terzo smiles.

“You’re saying that as if you’re participating,” Sister Imperator raised an eyebrow. “There are rules.”

Terzo straightens his posture. “Rules that shouldn’t exist. Look at what we’ve accomplished together! I feel like I have a meaning.”

Secondo opens his arms. Terzo runs into them, burying his head in the crook of his brother’s neck just like he did as a child. “You’ve grown in these past weeks, Fratellino. I’m so proud of you and I hope you continue this path of finding what makes you happy.”

To Terzo, happiness is no longer a red cassock hanging in his closet, but seeing the satisfaction in the eyes of his new packmates as they spend time together in the safe den.

One day he’ll become Head Cardinal, and the Ghouls will be right there by he and his brother’s side.

14 notes · View notes

forlorn-crows · 1 year ago

Text

kinktober day 20

(not so) dry humping. we already know who's the king of cumming in his pants. put a pretty water and air ghoul on top of him and he's a goner. and they're high? oh yeah, big boy's totally creaming himself

little dick mountain, they/them zephyr (dick/cock for their anatomy), transmasc dew (cunt for his anatomy)

Dew lets ribbons of herbal smoke seep out from his gills, giggling at the ticklish feel.

“Showing off for us, are you, water lily?” Zephyr lilts, reaching out to run a finger along the curly fins on the water ghoul’s neck. Dew sighshappily, preening under their attention.

Mountain hooks his chin over Zephyr’s shoulder and watches the smoke curl and dissipate around them. “Pretty,” he mumbles.

“He is, isn’t he,” Zephyr purrs.

“Pretty high,” Dew replies with a laugh, snuffing out the end of the joint.

Mountain squints. Stares at the ashtray for longer than necessary. He grumbles a little into Zephyr’s hair. “Was’at th’ end already?” he slurs, brows knitting together.

“Number . . . uh . . .” Dew sucks his teeth and lets his eyes droop, brain visibly buffering as he struggles to remember just how many they’ve shared between the three of them.

Zephyr chuckles at the both of them. They relax further back into Mountain’s chest and pull Dew further up their outstretched legs. He happily makes himself comfortable on Zephyr’s lap, wriggling and readjusting until his legs fold pretzel-like to fit between the taller ghouls’ equally lanky limbs.

“You two are adorable lightweights,” they muse. They smooth their hands up and down Dew’s sides, earning a pleased hum from the water ghoul who promptly tucks his face into the crook of their neck like a milk-drunk kitten.

“‘S not fair you just,” Mountain gestures vaguely with one hand, “make it disappear. Fuckin’ air ghouls.”

Dew huffs a laugh against Zephyr’s shirt. “Not fair,” he echoes. He wriggles his hips again, settling further into their lap and into the comfortable haze hanging between his ears.

Zephyr can’t really hide—or help—the strained grunt that escapes their throat at the sensation of a pretty water ghoul squirming directly over their dick. Blame it on the weed, or blame it on the lack of substantial material between Dew’s sex and theirs, but Zephyr is instantaneously more lightheaded and significantly harder than they were just moments ago.

Mountain’s nostrils flare against their skin, ears perking. “Mm, smell good, Zephy. Feelin’ good?”

Dew sniffs too, jolting back up from his draped posture and grinning wide when he feels Zephyr chubbed up beneath him. “I’d say they’re feelin’ real good, Mounty,” he drawls. He rolls his hips for good measure, wrenching a real groan from the air ghoul’s throat.

“You would too with a pretty little water ghoul in your lap,” Zephyr retorts. They give a pinch to Dew’s side as payback.

“Ohhhh,” Mountain says, neurons finally firing in the right series. He squeezes his hands around Zephyr’s middle and pulls them properly against his chest, rumbling contentedly as the bright honeysuckle scent of their arousal wafts over them all. “Wha’ if I have a pretty air ghoul in my lap?”

“Dunno, pet,” Zephyr breathes, dropping their head back against Mountain’s shoulder. Dew takes this as an invitation to melt his lanky body back against their chest, nuzzling his nose close to their pulse point. “What will you do?” they tease.

And then they have the audacity to wriggle their own hips, grinding against Mountain’s lap until he groans too. “Fuck, Zephyyy,” he whines.

“Zephyyy,” Dew snorts, mocking him lightly. But any menace is lost in the giggle he lets loose less than a second later—a giggle that morphs straight into a moan when Zephyr’s cock rubs just right against his clit through their pants. “Oh,” he gasps, humping right back. “That feels real nice.”

“Yeah, does,” Mountain groans, his own cock quickly filling out and the little head turning sticky. “Too—mmpf—too nice,” he admits.

“Plenty to go around, boys,” Zephyr teases. They grind between the others, indulging in the lazy heat settling in their veins. A pleased purr kicks up in their chest. “Fuck, you two feel divine.”

Mountain noses along the wispy hair at their temple, mouth slightly parted as he huffs hotly against the side of their face. A high earth ghoul is an easily excitable—and sensitive—earth ghoul, so his hips are already kicking up in tempo underneath Zephyr’s ass. It’s rough and greedy, but it feels too good to even fathom stopping.

Thoughts are in short supply between them anyway. Especially not when Dew starts bouncing a mere minute later like he can ride Zephyr through their pants.

“Don’t—don’ do that,” Mountain whines. His arms wrap around Zephyr’s torso and he grabs Dew’s waist, but he does nothing to stop him from moving. If anything, he grips the little ghoul tighter, keeping him from slipping off of Zephyr’s lap while he ruts harder against their ass.

The air ghoul gasps, caught between amusement and arousal. “Can feel how hard that little cock is, pet. Getting needy?”

“Likes seeing me ride you,” Dew pants, almost just as desperate. Almost.

“You are doing nothing of the sort.”

“‘lose enough,” Mountain wheezes. The water ghoul keeps glancing past Zephyr’s face, batting his eyelashes at Mountain and flipping his silver hair out of his face. And devils below if he would stop bouncing like that, maybe Mountain wouldn’t be so close to cumming in his jeans.

“Mounty-y-y,” Dew sing-songs, voice bouncing in time with his body. “You got that look on your faaaccee.”

The earth ghoul shakes his head, biting back a childish nuh-uh. The look in question has his eyebrows drawn together, and his chipped fang poking over his bottom lip where he’s worrying it between his teeth. His eyes are droopy and red-rimmed, fighting not to stare at Dew or roll straight back into his head.

Zephyr cranes their neck to run their tongue up the column of Mountain’s neck. They rock their hips back and forth between the two ghouls, slow and torturous. "If you cum, pet,” they rasp, “I bet our droplet will clean you up while I fuck his darling cunt. Won't you, Dew?"

Dew chokes. "What the fu—"

"Oh Lucifer," Mountain cries, voice cracking through breaks he didn't even know he had while his hips give a telltale stutter. Before he can gather the scraps of his remaining wits, he squeezes his arms around Zephyr’s middle and humps them rabbit-quick, creaming himself in no less than five thrusts. He shudders through it, whining high and wounded, cumming harder under the burn of embarrassment.

“Oh, darling,” Zephyr groans, albeit with a slightly teasing lilt. “That sounded like a very good time.”

“Shut up,” Mountain mumbles, grimacing at the way his cock twitches in the confines of his now sticky underwear.

Mercifully, Zephyr leans forward so their ass isn’t directly on Mountain’s lap anymore, getting close to Dew’s face with a wicked smile on their face. Dew can’t help but giggle as they brush their lips over his.

“Better get to work, water lily,” they croon. Zephyr casts a quick peek over their shoulder, winking at Mountain who’s still staring at them, slack-jawed. They turn back to Dew, pressing even closer and lowering their voice to a barely-there whisper: “Wouldn’t want your treat to go to waste, would you?”

163 notes · View notes