#even without quintessence

[discordiansamba]

Personally I think magical and non-magical Alteans have roughly the same lifespan, they just handle aging very differently. In that I think Coran and King Alfor are roughly the same age, but one reads as older than the other.

[kismetconstellations]

In the spirit of Halloween, have some of my favorite EVIL faces that "Kuron" pulls during his fight with Keith in The Black Paladins.

[fire-eyed-raven]

If every time I've seen Madara being terribly mischaracterised I've got a penny I would probably be reach already T_T

At least warring states/founding of Konoha times Madara

[ghcstcd]

The artists who draw Aether with tusks are so big brained. I WISH I thought of that.

[swagging-back-to]

naur seriously can we talk about how allura was even like 'the lions were made to be piloted by you and you alone'referring to the fact they are the only five people in the entire multiverse to have pure quintessence corresponding to the colors oftheir lions....

if one paladin is MIA then that lion should be inactive, benched. you dont simply play musical chairs with the lions. if it waa that easy then ANYONE could be the paladins at ANY time and theres no reason for the human paladins to be there at all especially if they dont want to be. but no the human paladins are NEEDED or else keith and allura would have no problem with pidge leaving in the first two episodes. nor would they mind if lance went home. but they DO mind. they PREVENT pidge from leaving and they make lance believe going back to earth isnt an option at all--that it isnt even on their iternary.

So no. i refuse to acknowledge the lion switching as canon.

[wegc]

PERV!BANG CHAN HEADCANONS

PAIRING: BANG CHAN X FEMALE READER

WARNINGS: nsfw (mdni), perversion, corruption kink, breeding kink, possessiveness, masturbation, cum tributing, watching, suggestions of blowjobs, dubcon (?), best friends brother!chan, swearing

PERV!CHAN who’s best friends with your brother and beats himself up at night, cursing at whatever entity for tempting him to think about you—his best friend's sister—who’s explicitly off limits.

PERV!CHAN who’s so endearingly shy and giggly around you, continually protecting you when your brother isn't around, hiding his lewd thoughts behind his kind exterior.

PERV!CHAN who refuses to look you in the eye the first time he jerked off to the thought of you stuffed full of his cock.

PERV!CHAN who tells your brother he’s going to the washroom and takes his sweet time walking there, not before peeking through your slightly open bedroom door—discovering you lying on your stomach innocently—and palming his growing cock at the sight of your tight cotton shorts that annoyingly accentuated the curve of your ass and the shape of your puffy cunt. Were you even wearing underwear?

PERV!CHAN who could never act upon his desires—who forbids himself from getting too close at the risk of hurting or corrupting you. You’re not for him—you’re delicate and the quintessence of purity—and it would be a sin, he would positively go to hell if his hand even grazed you the wrong way. Every touch meant something more to him.

PERV!CHAN who feels his self-control crumbling when you stroll out of the shower towel-clad, the soft white fabric daring to slip from your body, which was glistening enticingly with droplets of water from your previous activities. He’s fucked. If he tugged on the towel right then and there, he’d see everything, wouldn’t he?

PERV!CHAN whose guilt consumes him when he’s incapable of getting off without thinking of you. He’s tried porn—even porn of people that look just like you—but it doesn’t suffice. He needs you. So, begrudgingly, feeling the pit of his stomach swarm with anxiety and cringing in self-disgust, he searches your name on Instagram, knowing that you’re the only one to relieve him of his need.

PERV!CHAN who feels his mind go numb as he strokes his leaking cock to photos of you beaming, looking simply tantalizing in your tiny skirt—his favourite skirt. He wants to take his time masturbating to you, but how can he resist when his mind is corrupted with depraved thoughts of bending you in unthinkable positions, hearing your begs and whines for him to go harder; for him to claim you; for him to breed your tight little cunt until his cum oozes out of your abused hole. You’d have the greediest cunt, wouldn’t you? You’d take him so well, he knows you would. You’d be so good for him. His good little girl.

PERV!CHAN who feels his mind break and his cheeks flush every time you teasingly touch him, your soft hands squeezing and groping his tense forearms and muscles, your alluring voice purring hushed praises in his ears—phrases that sound way more suggestive than you possibly imply, right? You’re so big, Chan. God—you’re so strong. I’m so weak compared to you. You could ruin me, Channie.

PERV!CHAN who curses to himself and looks away, clenching his jaw and inhaling sharply every time you look up at him with puppy-dog eyes. He feels himself grow insane at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows and the pretty little pout fixed on your lips. Would your face scrunch up like this if he stretched you out with his cock? He tries his best to ignore the very possible reality that this is what you’d look like on your knees for him. Would your hands paw his thighs? Would you open your mouth, tongue timidly peeking out for a taste of his cum? What would your face look like stained and tainted with his seed? Would you like it? Would you smile up at him? Would you beg for more? God, he’d give it to you.

PERV!CHAN who lends you his hoodie when you accompany him and your brother on a late-night beach trip, gulping as he takes in the sight of his clothes swallowing you whole, the cute buds of your breasts poking through the thick fabric.

PERV!CHAN whose cock aches at the delicious smell of your body and the sweet, floral scent of your perfume after his hoodie is returned to him the next day. He refuses to wash it, wanting to preserve the scent for as long as he possibly can. Because when he closes his eyes and presses his nose in the soft black fabric, all while jerking off his dripping cock in fast, hastened strokes, it feels like you’re right there; it’s the closest thing he has to real life.

PERV!CHAN who becomes irritable when the scent on his hoodie fades away, and against his better judgement, walks into your family washroom only to immediately open the bottom cabinet in pursuit of your laundry basket, where he steals a pair of your dirty panties. Of course, he jerked one out in the washroom, knowing all too well you were a room away. It makes it better—helps him cum faster. What if you walked in? What if you saw the way he smelled your musk before pushing the fabric in his mouth, letting out muffled groans at the sheer taste of you? God, he’s disgusting. Did you cum in these while touching yourself? Maybe you dry-humped against your pillow. Who were you thinking of? Fuck—he hopes it’s him.

PERV!CHAN who prints a photograph of you one day—a full body shot of you smiling toward the camera, your white sundress short enough to reveal the plush flesh of your thighs—his favourite photo. He’s especially desperate now after tasting you. He’s careful with the panties and only uses them for special occasions—what if he wants a taste again? He’d wrap the panties around his sore, chubby cock, stroking himself furiously to the picture, seizing the opportunity to slap his dick against the photo of you. It’s a laminate photo and laminate for one sole purpose. All too quickly, he cums in thick, white spurts, landing on the photo of your face and thighs—all over you. Snapping a quick photo, he jerks himself off again, and again, and again, until it’s thoroughly covered in his warm seed. He would do it a million times in real life if you’d just asked. Once he’s done, he wipes the photo clean with tissue paper and carefully places it at the bottom of his drawer for later use.

PERV!CHAN who heads to your washroom to jerk off to another pair of your panties at four o'clock in the morning during a sleepover with your brother, where thoughts of you sleeping soundly a room away plague and tempt him beyond belief. Instead of stealing this pair, he puts it back in your laundry basket, soiled and contaminated with his cum. You’ll just wash it, and he’ll have to live forever with the remorse of you wearing underwear that unbeknownst to you, Chan violated. It isn’t until weeks later when your brother hosts a pool party, that Chan chokes on his drink at the sight of you wearing the same panties he came in. It was part of a swimsuit—you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Feeling his bulge grow in his swim trunks, he gulps down his drink and races to the washroom to relieve himself. He can’t last like this. You have no fucking idea. No fucking idea that your brother's best friend—the second guy you wholeheartedly trusted after your brother, the first guy who swore to protect you if your brother weren’t around—came all over the fabric pressed right against your sweet, untouched cunt.

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ꩜⋆ hi, my name is iris hehe, can you tell i’m obsessed with channie’s guilt complex. he’s the sanest perv! anyways, if you liked this, check out my other work, i have more coming! i write for stray kids only and am a mostly nsfw blog. if you plan on following me, please note that my blog is 18+. i hope you guys like this ! feel free to give feedback and reveal your thoughts in my inbox <3

[vxsellie]

TO WASH ASHORE - E.W

pairing. pirate!ellie williams x siren!reader synopsis. ellie wakes on a remote island, delirious and hallucinating as she spots a sea creature watching her from in the sea, your sharp eyes tracing her every movement. already deeming herself to be losing her sanity, ellie sees no harm in calling you over. notes. bare w me here guys idk what im doing, this idea is so random but im trying to do it justice at least ! MCD WARNING BTW wc. 4.3k

ellie williams has lived a life of barbarity and brutality, living among pirates as a woman in disguise. of course, nobody would allow a woman aboard a ship, not to even mention the ship of a notoriously infamous pirate renown for his perfection and flawlessness. so, her fellow crew members know her as eli. a man.

she'd been sailing in disguise for nigh a year now, growing close with the pirates and getting to know life at sea. she's even built quite a reputation for herself ⎯ elijah williams, cruel and callous. captain miller's golden boy.

"avast ye!" a barrelman calls out from the crow's nest.

those on deck turn their attention toward the man. ellie halts her work and lifts her head up toward where he sits, putting a hand to her forehead to block the sun from her eyes.

one of the gunners climbs the shrouds toward the barrelman, scaling the lines swiftly. he pauses when he reaches the top, the two men conversing for a short moment before the barrelman passes the gunner his spyglass. the gunner's eyes widen and he begins talking frantically to the barrelman, both unsure on what to do. ellie watches the exchange from the deck, highly invested in what got the men so worked up.

she hears footsteps approach her from behind and she turns around to face whoever it is that comes to her. captain miller. she instantly straightens her back, the quintessence of respect for the man of authority.

he waves a hand at her, "oh relax, williams. you haven't gotta act so on edge all the time."

"easy for you to say." she scoffs, deepening her voice an octave. "you ain't gotta change to be accepted. you're the captain, you can do whatever you damn well please 'n nobody can give you shit."

"i suppose," he agrees. he then turns the topic around, peering up at the men atop the crows nest. "what're they doin' up there?"

ellie shrugs, "i haven't a clue. seems troublesome, though."

miller hums in acknowledgment, staring up at the two men who grow more and more frantic with each passing second. they hand the spyglass to one another back and forth, taking turns looking through it and exclaiming things of nervosity. ellie follows their gazes, turning toward where they aim the glass.

there, in the distance, she can see the formation of clouds beginning to fester along the horizon. its barely noticeable from her place on the deck unless one knows what to look for. but, if she were up high, the sight of such a storm would likely terrify her.

"a storm." ellie says.

miller turns to look at her, a brow raised. "come again?"

"that's what they're lookin' at." she explains, meeting his gaze with her brow knitted. "a storm is brewin' out there and we're heading directly into it."

miller doesn't need any proof of this, believing ellie without hesitation. and, within mere minutes, of her declaration, he's appointed roles and tasks to each of the two hundred crew members aboard. gunners are tasked with moving the ballast and heavy barrels into the hull; the pilot is given a stern talking-to on how best to handle this situation; the riggers are told what to do and which lines to pull.

ellie, being the quartermaster, is tasked with keeping the crew at bay. miller tells her she needs to keep them calm and level-headed, give them hope and whatnot. she nods, hurrying to do just that.

as they near the looming clouds, the sea grows angered. waves come up over the taffrails, soaking into the floor of the deck. the winds pick up, forcing the riggers into action. she alternates between people, assuring them that they're doing well and they'll make it through this. however, as she watches the storm grow nearer, she isn't quite so sure of that herself.

she sees a group of brutes, standing around without a role yet. she approaches them with her hands on her hips and a hardened expression on her face. "the fuck are you doin'!? batten down the hatches!" she orders. instantly, the men rush into action, tying things down and putting things away for the coming weather.

ellie's heart beats frantically in her chest as rainfall begins to drench her. she pulls her hat farther over her face, making sure that her hair is all tucked away and her coat remains loose.

the sea grows in her rage, throwing massive waves over the bow. crew members begin to lose faith, their minds descending into despair. ellie tries to keep them at bay for the most part, but it's fruitless. their hopelessness is no longer malleable. she curses under her breath, knowing exactly why miller appointed her this role ⎯ if the pirates lose hope, they won't work as efficiently at their jobs. even if wreckage is inevitable, they'd at least have a chance.

she glances around, the gunners breathing quick as they shakily trek back and forth. the riggers grow fatigued in their mission of manning the sails, the pilot grips the wheel tightly but not confident enough. the ship teeters on the waves, thrashing around with each one.

"fuck," ellie mutters, wiping salt water from her eyes as she rushes to the helm. she ascends the stairs and approaches the pilot with as kind as gaze as she can muster whilst so irritated. "okay listen," she says, causing the pilot to turn to her with wide eyes.

"elijah?" the pilot questions, "what're ya doin' up here? go help the others."

"won't be able t' help the others if ya crash the ship." she points out. "move, let me steer."

the pilot appears reluctant, but eventually gives in and moves. ellie takes the wheel, flexing her fingers against the wooden material. the feel of the wheel in her hands is comforting, reminding her of how she first began as a pirate ⎯ a small pilot who blended into the background for months.

she tips her head at the pilot, wondering why the hell he's still standing there. "go help the gunners, tar."

"oh, uh⎯" he nods quickly, "yes, sir!"

with that, he scurries off to assist those in need. ellie watches from the helm as he bustles about, seeking out those who need an extra hand. once she's sure he's doing as he was told, she averts her attention back to the task at hand.

the waves are growing by the second, more and more water taken over the bow. a few of the swabbies dumping buckets of seawater overboard. she spins the wheel, hard. the ship swerves to the right, hitting the next comber at an angle. a few of the pirates stagger on their feet or fall over, but nobody falls overboard so ellie counts that as a win.

her change in angle allows the ship to take in far less water. the crew members will need to embrace their sea legs a bit more, but overall the damage is now far less. a few of the pirates whip their head in her direction, knowing their previous pilot would never have the balls to whip the wheel so hard. when they see ellie "elijah" at the helm, many of them seem relieved, knowing she's a great pilot. if anybody can aid them in survival, its her.

this goes on a few more times, yanking the wheel hard to the side as to avoid water filling the deck. but as time progresses and the rain refuses to die down, the amount of overtake grows unavoidable. by the fifth wave, the swabbies are forced to resume their buckets. by the eighth, more pirates rush to their aid.

ellie grits her teeth, mentally scolding herself for having not done more despite it being nigh impossible to avoid water overtake. she grips the wheel tightly, tossing the wheel to the side as the ship lurches in that direction. they hit the wave inelegantly, one of the riggers falling from a shroud and into the water with a deafening splash. she ignores it, unable to part her mind from the task at hand.

she hears footsteps bound up the stairs of the helm, rushing to her. she sideglances in their direction, not surprised to see captain miller approaching her.

"what're our chances?" he asks her, bracing a hand on the rail of the helm that overlooks the deck, having to grip onto it to avoid toppling over.

"of survival?" she asks, turning away from him and toward the next wave that rolls in their direction. "not lookin' too good, i'll tell ya that."

"give me a precent."

"about 18." she says with a sigh, the ship overtaking a huge amount of water from the bow, two swabbies getting washed away with the wave. she forces herself not to think about their deaths, tightening her grip on the wheel until her knuckles turn white.

"fuck that." miller declares. "we ain't dyin' out here."

"don't have much of a choice, i'm afraid." ellie tells him, yanking hard to the left, the wheel spinning out of control for a split second as the water catches control of the rudder. she fumbles to regain reign over it. once she does, her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as she shoots miller a look. "i'm doin' everything i can, but i can't promise it'll be enough. this storm ain't relenting."

he narrows his eyes at her. "what's your name, williams?"

"excuse me?" she questions, momentarily caught off-guard.

"ya deem me fool, do ya?" he questions. "i know you're a woman. if we're all dyin' anyway, at least tell me your real name. you should be able to tell someone before your life ends."

"ellie." her chest feels heavy as she speaks her actual name for the first time in a year, throat feeling tight with the foreign sound of it on her tongue. she blinks water out of her eyes and she tells herself it's rain, though she's not entirely sure.

"well," miller says softly, nigh inaudible over the heavy rainfall pattering loudly against the sea around them, "it's nice t' meet ya, ellie williams."

she turns her head to face him, brow knitting. their eyes meet and she gives him a gentle smile, eternally grateful for his acceptance of her despite her year-long life of lies. apparently, that split moment of distraction is all it took for the storm to hit. while ellie's distracted by the unexpected turn of events miller voices, mother nature decides to attack while her guard is down.

a huge wave swells over the bow, water yanking the ship forward into the sea. ellie yelps as the wheel yanks from her hand, rudder being tugged by the sudden change. as the bow goes down under the surface, the stern goes up in the air. ellie's feet slip out from under her, her backside slamming against the vertical deck. miller's do the same.

as ellie slides downward toward the water below them, she feels a hand grab her by the wrist. she looks up, breathing hard. miller is still holding tightly onto the railing with his right hand, his left now holding ellie's entire weight.

the ship is vertically positioned, the bow slowly sinking into the aggravated sea as the stern is high in the air, teetering unnaturally.

she stares up at miller with wide eyes, her mind reeling at the sudden change in atmosphere. she'd told them they were likely to die, but she hadn't actually been ready to face death straight-on. the feel of powerlessness licks up her spine with a cold touch of dread and despair.

"ellie!" miller shouts, her attention snapping up to him. "i ain't lettin' ya go! don't lose⎯"

his words are cut off by a barrel coming down from the helm and hitting him in the head. the heavy weight of the wood knocks him out cold, his fingers going slack on the railing. they both instantly fall from the stern. she screams as she falls, sound interrupted as her body collides with the ocean. her throat burns, eyes stinging as she forces them to open in the water.

she looks around under the surface, ignoring the agonizing sting in her retinas. she's surrounded by wood and debris and fallen pirates. buts she's looking for one in particular. joel miller.

he's nowhere to be seen.

her heartbeat picks up, her lungs contracting with lack of oxygen. her mind begins to swim, unable to comprehend all that she's lost within a mere few seconds. she feels herself begin to sink as her eyes go dark, the weight of her body being dragged down by the merciless pull of gravitation.

she shuts her eyes, allowing the earth to pull her under the water and towards its core. consciousness plays with her, pulling her in and out of it. not a single coherent thought runs through her mind as she sinks down, down, down,

just as she comes to terms with death, shaking its hand and accepting its sudden control over her, something else grabs her other hand. something soft, a gentle caress of fingers wrapping around her wrist. life.

ellie's chest constricts as she shoots up, the feel of water in her lungs as she gags on it. the feel of pain welcomes her before the feel of relief does. her throat burns, her body is weak, her eyes sting. everything aches so very agonizingly that nothing else really matters to her.

she rolls over, getting on her hands and knees as she coughs and hacks water from deep within her chest. once she manages to level out her breathing enough to form an intelligible though, she realizes what she's on.

her fingers dig into soft sand, the sediment wedging under her nails. she lifts her head, eyes wide in shock. she's on an island, tiny enough she can see right across to the water on the other side. she looks around some more, taking in the scarce amount of shrub and grass.

she huffs out a laugh, disbelief and delirium encircling the sound as it slips past her split lips. the light chuckle soon turns into boisterous cackling, tears welling in her eyes as she realizes she's alive. she's breathing, feeling, living.

through blurred vision, she grazes her eyes across the island, once again taking in the beautiful sight of it. she leans back on her knees, sitting on her folded feet. here gaze suddenly snags on something lying a few feet from her. a body. she narrows her eyes, praying that this island isn't inhabited. but when she recognizes the shape of it, she instantly rushes to its side.

captain miller. joel.

she crouches beside him, turning him onto his backside. she leans down, pressing an ear to his mouth, desperation filling her up as she listens for any sign of life. then she hears it. breathing.

it's croaky and crackled, but breathing nonetheless. she straightens. he's alive. once he wakes, he'll cough a bit and be in indescribable pain, but he's alive. she moves him onto his side to avoid him choking on his own saliva, tipping his head into the sand a bit.

her mind is moving at a million thoughts per second, ellie can hardly keep up with her own brain. she leans back, staring at joel's head as she breathes heavily, trying to grasp what exactly has happened. only an hour ago, she was⎯ wait. how long ago was that? for all she knows it may have been days since the shipwreck. it may have been months. she looks at the sky, hoping to be able to tell time by it somehow.

the sky is clear, blue and brilliant without a cloud in sight. but her clothes are still wet and so are joel's. plus, she isn't starving to death yet, so she decides it's only been a few hours.

her mind races, suddenly stuttering on one thought in particular: who the fuck got them out of the water?

if it were another crew member, they'd be on the island with her and joel. if it were another ship crew, they'd be dead before they could reach the depth of which she'd sank by then.

she traces her eyes along the horizon regardless, hoping she might see a ship or something to point toward who's responsible for this. that's when she sees you.

her brows raise at the sight of a girl so far out in the surf, water up to your shoulders. your hair is wet, clinging to your neck and forehead. you aren't wearing a top, bare shoulders peeking from the surface.

ellie squints her eyes, wondering if she's going crazy or not. the heat is getting to her, clinging to the wet clothes that soak her skin. her hat is missing, auburn hair now askew atop her head. she puts a hand to her hairline, shielding sun from sight. sure enough, there you remain.

gorgeous and luminary in your presence, out there like a beacon of hope amid chaos. water droplets run down your face, sparking like fragmented glass across your skin.

"hey!" she calls out, unable to stop herself. "c'mere!"

you remain in place for a long moment, tilting your head at her slightly. she worries, for a second, whether you truly were imagined purely out of her mind. honestly, how could someone so beautiful be out here right now? in the middle of the ocean. just standing there. it's impossible.

just as doubt traces up her spine, you begin forward.

your movements are languid, almost like you're made of water yourself. the tangible embodiment of the sea, beautiful and mysterious just like the ocean. ellie finds herself unable to look away, a wordless spell cast to immobilize her.

you continue forward, bare chest veiled by your long wet hair. like a fish on a hook, ellie crawls toward you. her jaw is slackened, eyes sparkling. you keep most your body in the water as you near her, lower waist never breaking the surface. ellie doesn't give much thought to it, to enamored by the sight of you.

you stop at the waterline, lying on your stomach. you bury your elbows in the sand, resting your chin on the palms of your hands. ellie stops right in front of your, her eyes wide as they search your face.

"...beautiful..," is all ellie is capable of muttering. you tilt your head at her, slow and steady. she continues to stare at you, awe-struck. the smallest smile manages to tug at your lips and ellie finds her heart speeding at the mere sight of it. you shut your eyes, grinning at her.

"thank you." you say.

ellie's ears perk at the sound. your voice is music, tone a melody. she can't help but yearn for it to be played on loop. over and over until she takes her final breath.

"y-you⎯" words feel foreign in her mouth, nothing coming out correctly. she shakes her head, touches of crimson staining her cheeks. she blinks a few times as she refocuses on your face, taking in every feature that adorns it. "you're⎯"

"what?" you croon, a gentle hum from the back of your neck. she finds herself leaning in at the soft sound, needing to be closer. needing to hear you better. your eyes sparkle at the sight of her desperation, scooting farther back ever so slightly. "i'm what?"

a breath escapes her lips as she stares. "you're beautiful."

"mm," you sound, blinking at her slow and seductive. she falls for it. of course she does, they all do. that's your curse.

"how⎯" she blinks down at the sight of you in the water, having emerged from the surf all on your own. "how'd you⎯"

you tilt your head again, though this time for another reason. you do it as to move it out of her line of sight, allowing her eyes to rest on the tail that grows from your hips. it's about five feet in length, blue and shiny. the scales catch the light, glittering like magic. the fins are translucent, filtering sunlight through the thin material.

she stares at it, unable to tear her eyes away. whether that be to delirium or adoration, you're unsure. so is she.

"i saved you," you mutter, drawing her gaze back to your face. your brows are furrowed, sincerity knitting them with a thin thread of deception. she blinks, the threads blurring together into a gentle curiosity. she leans in again. you lean back. the palms of her hands are now in the water, encircling her wrists with rocking waves against the shore. she continues to crawl toward you. out of mere pity, you refrain from easing back more. it'd be too easy that way ⎯ killing a starved pirate who's been marooned.

"a-and joel?" she blinks, completely unaware of your moral dilemma. she's equally unaware of the way you had been slowly easing into the water. somehow, they never seem to feel the cool liquid around them.

"yes." you confirm, narrowing your eyes at the girl and her soaked form. "yes, i saved your old captain as well."

she exhales, enamored by the information. you take this time to soak in the sight of her. her hair is damp, short auburn strands clinging to her face and neck. her thin white linen shirt is clad against her torso and chest, buttons undone at the top. her heavy brown coat hangs off of her, clearly having been made for a man. her black jeans are baggy, also meant for a male. as are her oversized boots.

"thank you, i⎯" she stammers, licking her lips in thought. "i-i don't know how to⎯"

"hush," you whisper, voice tangling with the waves crashing against the sand. the melody is the same, sediment washing from the shore as ellie does. you lift your hands, cradling her face with cold, wet fingertips. she leans into the touch, her eyes lidded and pupils blown. your gaze softens, "you needn't thank me, love."

"but⎯"

"shh," you place the pad of your thumb on her lips, silencing her. your eyes drop to her mouth, tracing your finger along her bottom lip. she parts them, breath hitching. "i saved you because i was unable to bare the sight of your death."

she doesn't respond, her mind jumbled. you continue, pulling her deeper into the water as she crawls toward you.

"so lovely, so undeserving," you whisper, the water now at her knees, forcing her to stand in the water with you. your hands remain on her face, thumb running along the pink skin of her mouth. she breathes heavily, desperate for more, completely under your alluring spell of seduction.

"closer," she mumbles, likely unaware she'd even uttered the word.

you oblige, the water now at your waists. your tail treads water as she legs continue to inch toward you. she moves forward, never stopping, never thinking, never able to. you stop, allowing to to ease closer. she does.

she braces her hands on your hips, fingers caressing the scales with gentility. so different from anything else you'd experienced. normally, when you seduce sailors, they're lustful and desperate and rough. she, however, is kind. curious wonder strikes her eyes, flecks of love already catching her pale green irises. they remind you of sea grass.

you decide to offer her a kindness before the inevitable death that's to overcome her.

you lean in, the waves crashing at your chests, pushing your toward her. you listen, the ocean being your religion, your beacon of a deity. she does the same, obviously. you continue to cradle her face as she continues to encircle your hips, delicacy lacing her every movement.

you press your lips to hers, your bewitched mind incapable of feeling anything aside from an insatiable hunger for her death. ellie, on the other hand, is seeing stars from the mere feel of her mouth on yours. the way your lips move with such calculated precision, the way your teeth nip at the lip you'd been tracing. it's intoxicating. the taste of you is more addictive than any glass of rum she'd ever had.

sea salt and passion line your lips, salty with its passion. she leans in as your lean away, careful to keep your lips connected the whole way down. while ellie is practically unraveling at the seams, you ease into the water.

the trick here, you've learned, is to kiss your victim. that way, they're already holding their breaths with their eyes closed. you can ease them into the water without so much as a fight.

unfortunately for her, ellie is no different.

she follows your every movement, unaware of how the ocean begins to rise. the way the water begins to clog her ears. you drag her down, filling her lungs with your own tainted oxygen that you're not in need of.

you're now far past the surface, ellie continuing to kiss you despite the way her hands go slack around your waist and her breath struggles to maintain itself. you hate the knowledge of knowing you'd killed such a beautiful soul. but, more than that, you love the taste of her death.

the way death holds her hand all the way down; the way her skin turns to an icy blue that mocks your tail; the way her mouth goes slack against yours; the way her eyes are already closed; the way her lungs constrict.

she dies without a fight, completely uncharacteristic for a woman who'd fought her whole life. for a woman who went disguised as a man for so many years, all of her walls were let down for you ⎯ a mysterious creature of the sea who's name she hadn't even bothered to learn.

and as she does, her last thoughts are of your face and the sound of your voice. she dies with a soft contentment in knowing you were what held her as she was put to an eternal slumber.

if her death could be something of benefit to you, she considers it to have been worth it.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist : @luvsturniolo @zzombiegirl

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 fic taglist : @juptology @thefirstromantics @flutterdasher @dinakisser

[smoke-and-silver]

The Ghouls + Rut Season

Headcanons of the Ghouls in rut, as requested! This is for the current + recent ghouls. Happy to do previous eras upon request.

General / All characters:

Ghouls get a shiny horn upgrade just before rut: the outer layers shed as the horns grow bigger . You'll see them rubbing against things and polishing their horns a lot during this time as the outer layers flake off to reveal new horn underneath.

The ghouls are feverish and hot their entire cycle as the rut raises their body temperature.

There's a lot of tussling as their hormones have them clacking horns and sparring like deer. Some brawls can look or sound scary to humans, but it's all in good fun to them. They're just roughhousing to show off.

That's just within the pack, though. If someone outside of the ministry makes a move on their desired mate, it can get pretty gnarly.

Ghouls under the cut. Obviously NSFW.

Aether

The most subtle. A bit flushed and clammy but otherwise you wouldn't guess anything had changed.

It's very easy for him to get distracted, though. You give him a quick hug at breakfast and his cereal bowl is abandoned as he follows after you with his tail flicking.

Quintessence ghouls have a hazy scent during rut, like dark amber. Aether is the most fond of scenting. He does it every time you're canoodling in some secluded corner of the cathedral. He's not possessive, but he likes knowing that the other ghouls smell him on you.

He does get more protective. He's territorial of the ministry, marking the outside pillars with his horns to warn other demons away. Some unfamiliar men visit on business, and he chokes back an instinctual growl that starts to rise from his throat when he sees them shaking hands with you.

He doesn't spar much. One, because he's not generally aggressive, and two, because he's very large, and the other ghouls hesitate to challenge him.

It's an evening in the main hall when he finally flexes a bit. The heat in his veins is getting to him as he watches you from across the room, and a petty spat between two other ghouls is getting loud and irritating.

The demons bump your chair roughly in their scuffle and Aether has had enough. He buts in with his horns and growls at them to "knock it off". His voice is about two octaves deeper than usual. The surprised ghouls stumble back, and then slink away sheepishly.

Well, naturally you want to show your gratitude after that very attractive display, and the room is empty now...

Aurora

The MOST likely to brawl. Her claws are already rated E for Everyone and during rut it's amped up to 11. She'll tussle with anyone. Sometimes she'll sneak up to another ghoul and nip at them just to instigate it.

Remember that it's mostly just play to them. Nothing to worry about. She does LOVE to show off for you though, and is usually the one victorious.

If she were seriously fighting someone you would know, as real threats or serious challengers are quickly cowed by one of her deafening lion-like roars.

She's like a furnace during rut. You can feel the warmth coming off her. Her cheeks are constantly ruddy like she's just ran a mile.

Utterly insatiable. Most every night she's at your door tapping and scratching at it with her claws until you let her in. If she's feeling extra romantic she'll come in through the window instead.

[gore/bloody] Girl will straight up present her defeated opponents to you. The ministry has many enemies and she has much less restraint during rut. She has absolutely presented you with a severed head like a cat leaving a dead bird at its owner's feet.

You can't even help with congregation without seeing her in the pews, waiting to pounce the moment the sermon is over. She waves at you cheekily when you meet her eyes.

Don't think she's not tender! She's incredibly sweet with you every time you make love--and she insists on calling it that, "making love".

When you're not getting hot and heavy she's still locking lips with you. You've both been caught and scolded multiple times for making out when you're supposed to be working. She just needs to feel your hands on her during rut and, you're not opposed to all the extra attention.

Cirrus

Not interested in sparring or wrestling with anyone. Brawling doesn't interest her and if someone threatens you or the ministry she's just going for the throat. There's not much "challenge" to it.

Although... if you seem interested when the other ghouls spar, if she feels like it'll impress you or make you happy... well, she'll do it just to see you get all excited and aroused.

She kind of "takes care of" herself at first, not wanting to burden you with her heightened libido. When you assure her that you can handle it though, all bets are off. She pauses for a moment and starts stepping towards you, backing you against the wall right then and there...

She likes to mark you the most out of everyone. You are absolutely littered with hickeys and lovebites. She thinks it's so pretty to see you laid out naked in front of her with all of her marks on you. It's an added bonus if someone else gets to see it peeking out from your clothes, too.

She likes a little more ceremony to her 'mating' than most ghouls in their delirious lusty ruts, often bringing something to present you with before she drags you off for some privacy, even if it's something as simple as a rose.

But some nights, some nights it all reaches a boil--the hormones, the heat, your scent still clinging to her sheets--and she simply goes feral. She crawls into your bed and takes you wildly, no words even forming on her lips, just deep growls and broken, guttural infernal speech.

Cumulus

She doesn't typically initiate brawls but she's quite excited to participate in them and loves it when someone challenges her. They had better be prepared though because she is the most muscular ghoulette and knows how to use it.

She's especially excited to brawl when you're around and it gives her a chance to impress you. She'll stop mid-fight while she has her opponent pinned and gleefully wave to you, hoping that you're enjoying the show.

Yes, she flexes for you. Everything in her system right now is telling her to impress you and she takes any chance to start removing her shirt to show you the guns.

Oh man, this stage equipment is heavy and she's getting sooo hot moving it around!

Oh no, the windows needed a wash and her shirt is sooo wet! She can't possibly leave it on now.

Not very territorial or anything like some of the others, but very eager to scent you. Her smell is like a spring breeze, like clover, and she loves to rub it on you whenever she can.

She's on you constantly. Doesn't care if you're in the middle of cooking or prayer, she's pulling you flush against her and purring raunchy things in your ear, giggling and nipping at your neck until she's convinced you to have some fun.

She's not private about it. Unless you would prefer otherwise, she likes to show you off right in front of the other ghouls, placing you on the counter right there so she can please you with her strong fingers.

Dewdrop

The poor man is downright feverish the entire cycle. He's flushed and breathing heavily and his hormones and sparring instincts make him snippy with the other males.

Oh, but he's so good for you. He melts into your touch when you hold his face in your hands as if it soothes all the fire in him.

As if he isn't lewd enough on a normal day, he's downright filthy during his rut. He has the most impure ideas for every piece of furniture in the cathedral and he relays them to you in detail.

You two are forcibly excused from mass when he starts feeling you up right in the middle of it. He'd let you have him right there in the aisle if you weren't opposed to it, onlookers be damned.

When you catch him jacking himself off he doesn't stop, he slows down a little to give you a show. He loves to do it while you're watching. You can give him a hand or just sit and watch, either way he's begging you to go further afterwards. He needs you inside of him or needs to be inside of you.

Not super territorial, but he does love sparring. Wrestling with a friend is a good way to blow off steam and he doesn't mind if he looks cool kicking someone's ass and manages to impress you.

It's really hard for him to focus on much else but you when he's flooded with hormones like this. He can't help it. All that's on his mind day and night is feeling you against him and burying himself inside of you.

But when he eats you out or sucks you off, that's when he really loses his mind. He's already so painfully horny and the scent of your sex totally overtakes him and makes his mind hazy. You're not leaving for the night.

Don't hold it against him if he's a little sappier than usual, or if his kisses are a little longer. It's not just about mating; rut makes him needy for comfort and attention too. It takes a lot of energy out of these ghouls, and often leaves them sore, so the extra comfort means a lot to him right now.

Mountain

Obviously the earth ghouls rut the most. The elk of the forest are where the term comes from. He sheds velvet from his horns during the season and the look of blackened demon blood dripping from horns is pretty sick.

His rack is hands down the most impressive and lets him stand up to even Aether in a duel. He is giddy if you compliment the horns, tail flicking around happily knowing his appearance pleases you.

The most territorial, the most willing to brawl, the most protective. Earth ghouls have the strongest rut instinct. It's hard for him to even see you talking to another ghoul without daydreaming about taking you right in front of them. The daydream gets him hard and flustered and he sheepishly approaches you to ask for some "help".

An incident occurs when a visiting diplomat kisses your hand and a hormone-fueled Mountain has him backed up to the wall in seconds, gnarly horns at the man's throat and growls rumbling from deep in the demon's chest.

You manage to soothe him by petting his chest and asking him to stand down. After a few moments he reluctantly releases the man, who scurries off.

His head clears and Mountain quickly apologizes, but honestly, it was the hottest thing ever, and you're pulling him in to make out. By the time the diplomat tattles about being "attacked by a demon" you've already backed Mountain into the nearest chair to ride him.

It's part of his mating display to show that he can provide. He'll lead you out into the woods where he's set up a spot to sit together and brought more food than you can eat, but he's eager to watch you eat it, fill up on it. He hopes if you're satisfied that you'll accept him and let him pleasure you.

Phantom

Poor, poor sweet boy. It hits him the hardest. He is absolutely the most sensitive. Even feeling up his arm or kissing his cheek a few times gets him worked up. Smile at him across the room long enough and he'll get hard, honestly.

He's embarrassed to approach you about it at first, so you'll have to encourage him. He's quite enthusiastic once you reassure him that you don't mind, though.

He finds it fun to engage in some of the sparring matches, but honestly he's kind of inexperienced in fighting and gets thrown around easily. He's such a good sport about it though and he's laughing most of the time, so it puts everyone in a good mood.

His scent is very subtle and his horns pretty simple and small, so he tries to groom himself really nicely, hoping you'll still enjoy his appearance. Maybe puts a little soft perfume or cologne on hoping it will help entice you.

Your scent makes him crazy. It distracts him instantly when you step into the room. He can track you down anywhere in the ministry, every instinct in his body driving him blindly towards the sweet smell. You don't really hear him come in and so you jump a little when his arms slip around you and he buries his face in your neck to breathe you in.

Please let him have you. His voice is low and breathy as he begs you to let him breed you, or to breed him. You feel so warm against him it makes his head swim. His hands are shyly nudging under your shirt as he tells you how badly he needs it.

His libido is highest at night, when the ministry falls quiet. He feels terrible keeping you awake but you're so pretty laid out on your bed with the silver moonlight from your window illuminating your soft body, and he's so painfully hard.

[kink/somno warning] He'd never think of the idea himself, but if you offered to let him relieve his urges while you sleep, he's so grateful. He worships your body with kisses, always cleans you up perfectly, and always showers you with praise and thanks the next morning.

Rain

Pretty flushed and sensitive during his rut, though not so much as Phantom. He's very pliant when you approach him, willing to let you pull him away somewhere or climb up on his lap any time you want.

Beware that he has the most endurance and he will overstimulate and breed the fuck out of you. He's sweet and passionate but there's an unavoidable mess after your long sessions. You both need a bath afterwards and he ends up taking you in there too.

He makes a good little love nest in his room and honestly just keeps you there the whole cycle if you'll allow it. You don't have to do a thing. He'll keep you fed and groom you and all you have to do is lay there and be his good baby and let him pleasure you.

Not much for the sparring like other ghouls but he likes to egg the others on mischievously. Sometimes he'll nip at someone while they're not looking and pin it on another ghoul. Then he'll use the ensuing brawl as a distraction to drag you off somewhere.

--and, sometimes that is literal. When his hormones are really raging he'll just throw you over his shoulder, or bind your hands with the nearest thing he can find and quite literally drag you away, while telling you everything he's about to do once you're secluded.

Your excited giggles and little squeals make his heart flutter.

He is just as excited when you take him just as roughly. You can tie his hands to the headboard and he's already squirming with an eager, breathy "yes, yes!" escaping his lips before you've even climbed atop him.

He is so vocal when you do sink down on his cock and ride him. You're so warm and he's so sensitive right now. He does not care who in the ministry hears his absolutely whorish moans.

Swiss

As if he wasn't already unhinged.

The way he writhes and ruts against the floor on stage? Imagine him flooded with demonic hormones and out of his mind horny.

Wait, that's still how he normally is. Imagine that doubled. Mans will literally grind against your leg like a dog.

He's dying to pleasure you, honestly. It's a common sight to see him on his knees in front of you, panting with his tongue out as he waits for you to ride his face. He wants to drown in the scent of your sex, squished between your thighs.

He is constantly hard, his cock straining against his pants almost 24/7. He'll start to calm down and then he catches your scent on the air and he's stiff again. He tries to wear looser clothes during rut.

Of course, he loves to spar. He's already rowdy on a daily basis, he loooooves when rut rolls around and he gets to roughhouse with the other ghouls. It's a very nice bonus that he gets to show off for you, naturally!

Which brings us to territorial instincts. Swiss is the farthest from aggressive usually, but his rut is strong enough that you get to see more of the truly ghoulish side of him. He's very growly with strangers coming near you. You've never seen that toothy grin twist into a snarl before, but you see it now when you're out in public and some man presses too close to you for Swiss' liking.

You don't think you've ever heard such a noise from him, such a deep and guttural growl, but it... really does something for you. You hurry him home, both for the public's safety and because you need to ride him. He is overjoyed to fulfill your request.

Cumming inside of you is already his favorite thing in the world, if and when you allow him. He will literally beg for it now, his face flushed, sweaty hair clinging to his skin, his voice hoarse. Please let him breed you.

[tanukibby]

Get ready for more ghoul kit headcannon (feel free to share your own. I adore them)

Water ghoul kits squeak like crocodiles

Earth ghoul kits are quiet, they don't usually make sound but a few bleat like a lamb or a deer.

Fire ghoul kits make grunting noises.

Air ghoul kits chirp and whistle.

And Quintessence ghouls mimic the noises other kits make or they don't make noise at all.

Water ghoul kits make the most noise because they're not used to being heard underwater so they don't know when to be quiet. One of the many reasons why they're separated from other kits in the repatriation program.

Just imagine walking into the aquatic nursery and hear

"Squeak squeak sqeak squeak squeak squeak" as all of the water kits just watch you. They also make frog noises if they sleep close to the surface of their aquariums (they sleep in aquariums because kits are more prone to drying out and getting sick than adults.)

Most ghoul kits are fine with whatever element their caretakers are in the Repatriation Program. Water kits, however, need water ghoul caretakers or a multi ghoul with a water ghoul trait for the same reason why they are separated and in aquariums. They will dry out when being handled and in a pouch, especially when in a pouch.

Quintessence ghouls have the potential to handle them without drying them out, but even then they have to take precautions.

Fire ghoul kits aren't as hot as the adults, as in they're lukewarm, so they can be handled comfortably... until they're fussy. They burn hot when they get fussy and have to be handled with oven mitts by non fire ghouls.

Earth kits are often times the biggest out of all the elements, but sometimes that isn't the case. Pebble was always small, even as a kit.

The cuddliest kits are the air and Quintessence kits. That's just how they're brought up. Air kits are used to roosting with nest mates. Quintessence kits are raised communally, they take the saying "it takes a village to raise a child" very literally.

Fire kits aren't the temperamental ones, it's the air kits. Air kits are territorial over things, it's just their nature. They mostly grow out of it.

[dewsgremlin]

Rain is a species of water ghoul that lives so deep in the sea where no light exists. Therefore, his eyes are more or less useless.

Rain was blind.

Well, he wasn't completely blind, but the few, shadowy outlines he could make out through his pale blue eyes were hardly worth mentioning. At least not if sister Imperator had anything to do with it. She had been more than angry when Rain was presented to her after his summoning. What kind of idiot summons a deep sea ghoul, she had asked loudly, but it had been a rhetorical question. Everyone knew that it had been Copia and that it had never been his goal to summon a deep sea ghoul. The eyesight of deep sea ghouls was extremely poor due to the lack of light.

But now Rain was here and luckily for him, Dewdrop had decimated the number of siblings of sin to such an extent during a fit of rage a few days earlier that sister Imperator refrained from sacrificing another sister of sin to summon a new ghoul. For every soul summoned from the pit, it demanded a tribute - another soul in exchange.

In any case, the other ghouls tried to get Rain settled in quickly, walked the stage with him before the concerts so that he could get a rough overview, and showed him the way with small touches.

Nevertheless, he stumbled over a few steps at his first performance, which earned him the name Rain. Quite ironic, since he had never felt a drop of rain on his dark blue skin before.

In the darkness that always enveloped Rain and made him feel isolated from the world around him, Dewdrop was his anchor, his metaphorical ray of light.

During year zero, Dewdrop pressed himself up behind him and used the moment to whisper directions with the exact number of steps in his ear while he put his hand around Rain's throat and squeezed gently. When they played square hammer, Rain often reached out to Dewdrop, stroked his elbow with his slender fingers and then felt further along Dew's waist and back. On the one hand, he used it for orientation, but at the same time Rain also enjoyed feeling the warm body of the fire ghoul under his fingertips.

But the other ghouls also always tried to help Rain.

They were his eyes.

If he was a bit lost on the stage because he didn't know where to go, Swiss would often put an arm around him or pull him into a hug while gently moving him in the right direction. Rain was much more aware of the smallest touches, as if his body was compensating for his blindness by strengthening his other senses.

Cirrus would call him back with a soft chirp when he stepped too close to the edge of the stage and Aether often took his hand.

After the concert, when it was time to say goodbye to the raging audience, Rain only had to stretch out a hand and someone would grab it and pull him to the right place.

When Phantom was finally summoned, he spent a lot of time in Rain's bunk questioning him. Later, Phantom would tell his newly acquired knowledge to Swiss, Aether or Cumulus - depending on who was nearby and listening to his chatter. Rain says that it is so dark in the deep sea that you can't see anything there. Not even if you had a flashlight, explained Phantom, for example, while Rain lay pressed close to Mountain in the bunk and listened happily. He liked that Phantom never pitied him for his blindness, but said everything that was on the tip of his tongue directly and without a filter.

Of course, Phantom was also very keen to help Rain - regardless of whether Rain really needed the help or not.

For example, Phantom did not let himself be dissuaded from helping Rain change and carefully examining and stroking the water ghoul's bluish skin. A grin appeared on Rain's pretty face every time the quintessence ghoul dropped everything as soon as he noticed Rain getting dressed or undressed. He enjoyed Phantom's overzealousness.

Just as he enjoyed it when Dewdrop lured him into the wrong bunk on the tour bus. It was a game between them when Dewdrop promised Rain that he would take him to his bunk and pulled him behind him towards the beds.

And Rain counted the steps. 20 steps from the stairs to his bunk. And 8 steps further to Dew's bunk. Are you sure this is my bunk, Rain would taunt as he pressed his lips against Dew's jaw. And Dewdrop would reply each time that it was the right bed.

And as soon as Rain's zipper zip, another warm body would squeeze into the bunk. Hi Rainy, it's just me, Phantom would inform him each time, which Rain acknowledged with a slight snort. As if he hadn't already recognized Phantom by his smell, his steps and the way his greedy hands made their way directly under Rain's clothes.

[miasmaghoul]

Considering the idea of quintessence ghouls being able to make themselves invisible. They can just sort of...shimmer out of view if they focus their power enough. Like how Swiss can melt into shadow, quintessence ghouls can bend and fold light to vanish themselves. Not an ability they make common knowledge, of course, but they all use it in different ways.

Imagine Omega, always at Terzo's side even when he can't be seen. A protector, a stalwart and silent companion devoted to keeping his beloved Papa safe from any who would dare to threaten. It makes them think that Terzo has power beyond what any Papa has had before - how else could you explain someone being thrown across a room with no more than a wave of his gloved hand? It's exhausting for Omega, requires a bit of a recovery period, but that's alright. Terzo cares for him in the aftermath every time, just as devoted to his ghoul as Omega is to his Papa. The only other person who knows of this skill is Sister Imperator, and Omega likes to keep it that way.

Imagine Aether, learning the same trick from his mentor but using it more to keep himself sane. It's not something he does frequently, he finds it incredibly draining and has too many responsibilities to make it a common occurrence. But some days the abbey is just too loud, and there's nowhere for him to go without being pestered by siblings, clergy members and anyone else who's decided they need his attention. So he just...disappears for a while. He could be sitting on the couch plain as day and no one would be the wiser. It's incredibly freeing, on the rare occasion he puts it to use. He does it even less post-retirement, most of his magickal resources poured into healing others, but once in a while he'll still indulge. Sneak off to the library for a quiet cup of tea and dissappear between the stacks for a bit. Copia, Dew and Aeon always know where to find him, though - but they don't go searching. They all know that, if Aether needs isolation, there is no reason to interrupt.

Aeon, though, is a different breed of quint.

Curious as a kitten and with more power than he knows what to do with, he frequently uses his invisibility for more nefarious purposes. Sneaks into the human wing for panty raids, scours the kitchens when he gets too high but has already hit his snack quota, even wanders into the parts of the abbey that are off-limits to everyone but the higher-ups.

His favorite thing, though, is his ability to be a nasty little freak with no one being the wiser. It makes him the worst sort of voyeur, sneaky and with no regard for privacy. He peeps on everyone, through cracked doorframes, keyholes and open windows, in plain sight but still unseen.

One day, mid-afternoon, he hears a familiar series of soft but drawn out moans. Aeon cloaks himself immediately, already chubbing up and giving himself a shameless grope. It's not like anyone can see, after all. He pads down the hall to find Rain's door halfway open, those lovely sounds pouring through the gap. It's accompanied by what can only be called a rhythmic squelching sound, and Aeon licks his lips as he peeks around the doorframe.

Where he finds Rain, knelt in front of the ornate floor-length mirror that lives by his closet, naked as the day he was summoned and flushed right down his pale chest. He moves like water, spread thighs tensing and relaxing as he rides what Aeon recognizes as one of Swiss' preferred dildos. Rain has his tail wrapped around the base, hands free to explore every inch of himself. He's beautiful always, but like this - admiring his own reflection while pinching his lovely pink nipples, elegant fingers tracing the lines of his own throat, sliding down to give his cock slow pulls that have him leaking a puddle onto the hardwood floor - Rain isn't just beautiful. He's lust itself, sin incarnate, and Aeon has to get closer.

He leans just inside the door, in a warm patch of sunlight that paints Rain in golden hues. Hard as a rock and pulsing in his boxers, Aeon presses the heel of his hand to his crotch and starts to hump. Matches the rolls of his hips to Rain's slow bounces, picturing his own cock sliding into that slick hole and biting his lip when a soft moan threatens to escape. He may be unseen, but he can certainly still be heard.

Rain's clearly been at this for a while, judging by the sweat glistening along his brow and making his luscious curls stick to the back of his neck, and soon enough he starts to bounce faster. Little punched out grunts fill the air, the slick sound of his hand and hole making Aeon's balls ache, and he feels himself drool down his chin when Rain gasps. Leans back on one hand so he can sink down fully onto that thick toy, getting it deep inside, just where he needs it. He's panting, hand flying over his cock, and Aeon has to lean harder against the wall lest his own knees give out.

With a half dozen more tugs, Rain's mouth drops open and they both watch him squirt his load all over that shiny surface. Aeon's right there with him, biting his knuckles until he tastes iron as he soaks a stain into his undies. He shivers through it, eyes crossing, cussing to himself when he watches Rain reach out to drag two fingers through the mess he made. With a soft chuckle he licks it up, sighing happily, and Aeon lets his eyes slip shut while he catches his breath.

"Want a taste?"

Aeon's eyes shoot open, jaw going tense, and in slow motion he watches the shadows in the corner by the window coalesce into something solid.

Swiss leisurely strides over to the mirror, the bulge in his jeans incredibly obvious, and takes hold of Rain's wrist. Laps up the last drops dribbling down his fingers as Rain leans in to nuzzle at his straining cock. Swiss' rusty purr kicks up as he sinks his own fingers into Rain's hair, scratching at his sweaty nape.

"Did such a good job, angelfish," Swiss lilts, Rain's tail giving a happy little swish as it unwinds from the dildo still inside him. "You just love bein' watched, huh?"

Rain hums his agreement, lazily mouthing at the thick outline of Swiss through his pants. Wraps an arm around his thigh so he can really rub his face all over it. Aeon heaves a silent sigh of relief; as much as he would love to watch Rain swallow Swiss down, he's all sticky in his shorts and getting less and less comfy as the moments pass. He straightens up, lets the debaucherous sight of the pair of them burn itself into his brain, and finally tiptoes back towards the hall.

"Leaving so soon?"

Aeon freezes, whole body flushing hot and cold at Swiss' words. It takes him a thousand years to look back over his shoulder, and he finds golden eyes sparkling with intent fixed on his invisible form. Aeon gawps at him, and Swiss grins. Rain doesn't seem bothered in the slightest, dragging his tongue up Swiss' fly.

"You're not as slick as you think, kid," Swiss chuckles, dark and with just enough of an edge to give Aeon goosebumps. Rain giggles, crooks a finger at his hidden form, and Aeon whimpers.

"Who else knows?" His voice cracks when he asks, and Swiss barks out a laugh.

"Lock the door and get over here," Swiss orders him in lieu of an answer, "but I don't want to see you until that cute little dick is nice and hard again."

Oh, he's in so much trouble.

[lilypadlys]

Some assorted ghoul headcanons

If Phantom falls asleep on your lap, prepare to be there a while. Part of it is cat logic: if the cat sits on your lap you sooner die than move. The other part is the fact that Phantom sleeps like the dead. Once he’s asleep, you could literally tip him onto the floor and he wouldn’t wake up. His packmates have had to get creative. The time Phantom cozied up onto Cumulus’ lap while she was crocheting she just barely was able to grab her yarn ball out of the way. Before she could so much as sigh, he conked out. With his middle splayed over her lap, cheek smushed into a throw pillow, and legs on the opposite armrest; there was absolutely no easy way to ease out from under him. With a sigh she just stuck her yarn ball on one of his horns and got back to her project.

When Aether does the dishes, he purposely puts Dew’s favorite mug on the top shelf. Aether does it so he can watch the way the fire ghoul’s back arches and his shirt rides up when he grabs it for his coffee in the mornings. Better still when Dew wanders into the kitchen in just his boxers or sleep pants. Dew knows Aether does it on purpose and in retaliation he puts Aether’s mug in the bottom cabinets so Aether has to bend down to get it and Dew can enjoy the view of his ass.

When first summoned, fire ghouls drink way too much water all the time. The area of the pits they come from is hot and dry so any potable drinking water is to be consumed on sight because one never knows how long they’ll have to go without or who they’ll have to fight for it. As a result, every newly summoned fire ghoul will be territorial about their drinks and down buckets of water like their life depends on it. They end up going through a period of learning how much water their body actually needs and that that water is always going to be available. Omega had to explain to Ifrit several times that “No, it’s not normal to pee that much”, “Please, stop drinking out of the sink”, and “Please stop hissing when someone else uses the Brita”. Dew is quite happy to have missed that phase.

Quintessence ghoul’s have a strange affinity for bananas. Aether adores them in any form. Omega keeps a jar of banana flavored hard candies on his desk in the infirmary. Phantom likes the taste but not the texture. However, the day Cumulus baked banana nut bread, Phantom was in love. Whenever she makes it, she has to make two batches; one for Phantom and one for the rest of the pack (which they have to hide) when Phantom quickly demolishes his stash.

Sunshine often gets a huge burst of energy right before bed. Her packmates have gotten up for a late night snack or water to find her rearranging her bedroom furniture, cleaning the pantry, or even simply having a dance party in the common room in an attempt to tire herself out. On those nights, whoever finds her will make sure she brushes her teeth, gives her a few melatonin, and drags her back to bed with them. Fortunately the melatonin usually knocks her out and she’s able to sleep the rest of the night.

[deramin2]

Laudna going through a spiral about whether Ashton is a bad person because he wanted the power of both shards and did something stupidly dangerous to do it vs. Laudna deliberately feeding Delilah by using Hunger of the Shadow on Bor'Dor and Willmaster Edmuda.

Absolutely love it. Girl please keep projecting your worst fears about yourself and destructive habits on your friends and get scared of them without ever stepping back and assessing your own actions, it is delicious.

Bonus points that Imogen and Laudna are the biggest enablers of each other and not at all inclined to check each other's negative behaviors. Imogen still has a healthy fear about her powers, though, especially right now.

Meanwhile Laudna is still convinced that Orym is fine and the stable one while no one questions how Orym got Hex or that he's willingly using Ludinus' Quintessence Array to drain Edmuda of her life force. A totally normal stable good guy thing to do. Definitely no nosedive here. Although Laudna is irritated at him for pressuring everyone to keep going and not back down, and that he got the Quintessence Array use and not her. (Because again, she is trying to feed her own need for power.)

Somehow Fearne is the only one who's beginning to think they all might be going too far and getting scared, but they're not really listening to her. She saw her potential to become Dark Fearne and actually reevaluated her life. (Even if she's still a chaos being.)

Bell's Hells are great because they're like NPCs who ended up as the B-Team who keeps happening to be in the right place at the right time to be in the middle of all these events leading to this cataclysmic events that are so much bigger than they are. It's FUN that it's happening faster than they can recon with it and they're getting more and more desperate to not go under in a way that is actually making them go under faster.

They're seeing it in each other but not in themselves. That's the tragedy. They're so desperate to win it doesn't matter at what cost anymore. They're all just competing to see who can sacrifice themselves for the cause first while dragging their enemies down with them. They're going to end up being the monsters someone else has to fight, even though they kept trying to do good and fight the darkness.

[farter-imperator]

Thinking about Dew's element change going wrong, and he gets burned badly.

Admitted to the infirmary straight away, put in a quarantined room. He has to be away from all of the other patients; your skin is your biggest organ and having it burned is just asking for infections.

Dew, sobbing in pain as Aether and Omega wash his charred skin off and rub salve over his body. His cries so raspy, the water in his lungs had evaporated during the elemental change and caused steam burns to his lungs and throat.

Dew, barely able to see. His eyelids were burned badly. His vision is blurry. His vision will come back, with time, but at first it feels like he has cataracts in both eyes. He thinks he can see his new pack peering in at the window at the door, but he isn't sure.

Dew can't speak. His vocal cords were burned. All he can do is groan. Aether establishes a system with Dew; One groan for yes, silence for no.

Dew dreads bandage changes. He tries to say no, over and over. He tries to fight it. It's agony. His bare skin being exposed to the cold, dry air of the infirmary room. The medics checking his burns. Rubbing more salve in. Bandaging him up again. It's a daily occurrence. It never gets easier.

After a few weeks, his new pack is finally allowed to visit. Dew has to identify them by scent, his sight isn't all the way back yet. Cumulus takes a load of minky cloths in different colours and gets the pack members to rub their scent on them. She then gives them to Dew, hoping it'll help him identify them from scent.

Purple for quintessence (Aether and Swiss), green for earth (Mountain), light blue for air (Cumulus and Cirrus), and dark blue for water (Rain). Each cloth has their initial embroidered into it.

Even after Dew heals, after his burns scar over, after his eyesight fully returns, after his lungs heal but the rasp in his voice stays, he keeps the cloths as a comfort. He never leaves for tours without them.

[autisticlancemcclain]

The ship was shaking like a kid holding a goldfish bag.

It was not, in case you were wondering, a good time. 

Keith grit his teeth, planting his boots on the ground and half-walking half-climbing over to Allura, who was paler than Keith had ever seen her. The grip she had on her podium was tight enough to drain the blood completely from her knuckles. Despite his own fear, Keith’s heart softened for her. 

“How is it looking?” he asked, shouting over the noise of a thousand asteroids and a million laser strikes. All while their lions sat, drained of quintessence, locked in their hangars

One goddamn thing after another. Jesus. 

“It is looking bad,” Allura shouted, not taking her eyes off the space in front of her. “I can’t – Coran, I can’t hold it on my own!”

Coran looked back at her grimly. He had probably the most success keeping upright – seriously, was it posture or did he have a steel rod anchored to his back at all times – but even he was struggling against the whipping and shuddering of the massive castleship, attention focused on the controls. Trying to keep the shield up as well as possible, trying to get their own defenses running. Trying, as always, to keep the castle going, even when the odds were a million to nothing. 

“You can,” he encouraged. The effect was less encouraging when a massive asteroid hit the side of the bridge point-blank, throwing him right off the controls and splat into the walls. Despite Lance and Allura’s cries of alarm, he made a startlingly dignified crawl back to the deck controls.

Hell of a man, that advisor. 

He continued once he was steady, sweat beading on his brow but gaze soft and assuring. He waited for Allura to meet his eyes, then nodded, once. “Focus, girl. Hands on the spheres. Mind cool on the exhale. However we need to get out of this – you can guide us. Make your decision. Your team is behind you.”

“Yeah!” Pidge cheered, lifting her fist in emphasis from where Shiro held her steady, eyes trained on her computer screen. Blaring red lines of code Keith could not pretend to read flashing rapid speed in front of her, and she typed back at it just as fast, keeping their crackling systems at bay. “You got this!”

Allura breathed out. The tense line of her shoulders softened, just slightly, despite the ongoing chaos. She lifted her hands and rested them, gently, on the podium spheres as Coran instructed. They glowed. 

“We retreat,” she decided, nodding to herself. “We’re already low on quintessence, standing to fight will drain us dangerously. We must get to safety if we are to survive with our home intact.” She bit her lip, eyes opening. “But, uh, full disclosure, I have enough strength in me to open a wormhole and that is About It. I will be out of commission the moment it closes.”

Hunk shrugged. “We’ll catch you, then.”

“Try not to wormhole us into a black hole,” Shiro suggested, smiling slightly. “We’ll manage anything else, Princess.”

She laughed slightly, thankfully, but within seconds called out for everyone to brace themselves. Keith did as she heeded, or he tried to – but the castle got hit as he tried to crawl back to his seat, sprawling him on the floor. He glanced over at Allura, panicked, but her eyes were already glowing, and the space in front of them was already starting to warp. He swallowed roughly, squeezing his eyes shut. The floor was shaking too badly for him to get his bearings. He couldn’t get his feet under him, couldn’t stand, couldn’t dream to crawl to his seat. He stilled, resigning himself – he didn’t know exactly what would happen if he wasn't strapped down and protected during a wormhole jump, but it couldn’t be good. He had to hope for the best.

“God,” sighed a voice to his left, “you’d die without me, Dropout.”

A hand clenched the back of his jacket and yanked, pulling him tumbling onto another body. Quick as lightning a seatbelt was stretched over him, clicking into place just as the space in front of the castle finally warped, bright blue, and the entire bridge lit up so bright Keith was blind with it. 

When the light finally died down, Keith was half-convinced nothing had changed. The castle stopped shaking, but instead it was plummeting, hard and fast, controls dead and energy gone, towards the surface of a planet. 

“Someone catch Allura!” Coran shouted, and on queue the princess’ eyes rolled up in her head and she slumped forward. Luckily, Hunk had been more prepared than the rest of them, seatbelt already off and arms extended to catch her. He carried her back to her seat, buckling her in carefully, and strapping himself in next to her. Wise move – trying to crawl back to his own seat, fighting against the G-forces, would be near impossible.

There was a click, and then a shove, and then Keith got to feel those G-forces firsthand.

“What the hell!” he demanded, barely managing to catch himself on the arm of the blue paladin’s seat. “I coulda brained myself!”

Lance shrugged, playing for innocent, but a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. Keith could’ve strangled him. “What? Thought I’d let you get back to your own chair. You're welcome for saving you, by the way.”

“Some saving, jerk! We're still falling!”

“Yeah. Personally, I would find somewhere to buckle up.”

“You’re so annoying,” Keith growled, and it was by spite alone that he managed to stomp back to his own seat and buckle himself in. He was bright red, anger making him hot – Lance always made him like this, so furious he could barely blink. One day they’d be making progress, working together like a dream, wiping the floor together, and the next it was like a switch was flipped. Like Lance was reminding himself that he and Keith could never get along. It was ridiculous, and Keith couldn’t for the life of him understand it. Was he so bad?

“Incoming!” Pidge shouted, shaking Keith back to himself. Her screen was now linked up with Coran’s, the only two things on in the entire castle – electronics seemed to come alive when Pidge touched them – and diagrams of the castle systems were blaring red, flashing with symbols Keith didn’t know, but recognised as bad. “The nav and power systems are down! It’s not safe to get anyone back there to force them back on manually, but I think I can get steering up in a sec. Shiro, I need your arm for power. Hunk, keep on Allura, make sure she’s upright when we crash, we don’t want a spinal injury. Lance, Keith, I’m turning steering over to you guys. Don’t fuck it up.”

Despite their bickering, both of them nodded. Neither of them particularly wanted to be turned into paladin pancake anytime soon, so they could collaborate for one thing. 

Seconds after Pidge spoke, a screen flickered to life in front of Keith. Stats blinked back up, glitching rapidly as they translated themselves into words and symbols Keith could understand. The hologram shifted and expanded to its usual 3D model, joystick in the middle, thrusters and controls to his left, a screen with Lance’s comm line to his right. In his little screen, Lance met his eyes, eyebrows raised in question. Keith nodded. Together, they wrapped their hands around the joysticks, breathed out, and let their minds fuse.

As always, it was a freaky feeling. Imagine the weird, shuddery feeling you get when you say the same thing as someone at the same time, voices layering, tone mixing, for a moment your own voice and the voice of a stranger synching into one. The weird, deja-vu-but-not of it, the uncanny valley feel of recognising your own voice but…different. 

Then multiply that freakiness by a hundred, and you still won’t quite get it. 

On some levels Keith was aware that he was his own person. He knew his name, knew his hands, knew his history – or well, some of it. Nothing about himself had changed. 

But at the same time, he was also Lance Esposita-McClain. He knew his name, knew his hands, knew his history, more of it than he could ever get from shared stories or mind melds. There’s no telling the way your sister’s arm feels hooked around your neck for the sixth noogie in as many minutes. There’s no explaining the way your breathing only gets calm with your feet in the saltwater. There’s no describing the curve of your mother’s smile. Nothing Keith was seeking out – no memories he would even know to look for – but they were there, simmering, triggered by a smell or the crook of his finger in a particular way. Memories stored in the body and the soul and the senses, not in the brain, shared when two consciousnesses become one. 

Lance’s mind was hyperspecific. It complemented Keith’s well, with all his flitting, quick detail-oriented observance. As Keith jumped from angle to angle, noticing the planet’s curve, the pull of its gravity, the heat of its atmosphere, Lance zeroed in on an island, one of the only ones big enough for them to land. While Keith kept their craft in control, steering along the air currents, Lance kept them directed, single-minded focus on a stretch of rocky beach – not exactly a soft landing, but not a lot of living things for them to destroy when they crash. (Keith would’ve chosen to land in the meadow. Crushing frogs and bugs or whatever is never something on his top priority list of things to avoid. But he didn’t argue when Lance nudged them towards what is about to be a very bumpy landing.)

“Brace yourself!” he shouted, not daring to look away to make sure his friends were buckled. Trusting that they were, he held his position, letting them plummet, coming closer and closer to splatting on the planet’s surface before finally yanking on the joystick as hard as he could. He felt Lance’s strength twist and tangle with his own, and together the two of them levelled the castle almost parallel with the ground, letting them glide on their own velocity until they slowed down enough to let the bottom of the craft brush against the rocky outcrop. 

It was the most turbulent landing Keith has ever felt, except maybe that time he and Lance crashed blindfolded into a sand dune, and every bump on the ground gave him whiplash. When the castle finally hit the ground for good, dragging them a gauge in the ground for several miles as friction finally slowed it to a stop, the leftover inertia yanked Keith forward so roughly the buckles of his seatbelt made something crack in his ribcage. When the castle finally stopped he got slammed back into his chair so hard he was almost surprised he didn’t fall right through the impenetrable material. 

It took a minute for everything to hit. His connection with Lance had been severed the second they hit the ground, too focused on being, y’know, crashed to keep holding on. After the shock of being tossed around like dice in a cup wore off, which did not take long, Keith’s body made it very clear that yeah, no, armour actually only does so much, and crash landing is one of those things that’s just bound to hurt. His skull pounded. At least one of his ribs was most definitely cracked. His wristed and knuckles ached from the strain of holding up the entire weight of the castle as he’d steered it. He was alive, obviously, but – Jesus. Being alive sucked.

“Sound off,” croaked Shiro from somewhere left of him.

“Ugh,” groaned Pidge. “Screw you, Keith, I hate it when you drive.”

“Next time I’ll be sure to let us crash,” Keith responded flatly.

“Um, you did, bozo, I asked you to land us –”

“The castle was dead! What did you expect me to –”

“Allura and I are both fine,” Hunk interrupted. Amusement lined his voice. “She’s still out, but she’s breathing fine, and I didn’t let her hit anything on impact. She should still get checked out, though.”

“Roger that,” Coran agreed. “Ease your worries, Number Two, you did well. I will have her in the MedBay as soon as our systems are up and running again.”

“Oh, whew, that’s a relief, because I didn’t want to say anything but she kinda jammed her elbow into my sternum by accident and I’m not blaming her or anything since she’s unconscious but I think my spleen may be a little dead, not a huge deal I’m sure but –”

“Everyone quiet!” barked Shiro. “That’s six accounted for! Who’s missing?”

Immediately, heart pounding, Keith whipped to his right. His stomach dropped. The Blue Lion Command Chair was empty – seatbelt torn somewhere on the shoulder, cracked helmet overturned carelessly on the seat. The crisp blue and white lines were marred by a small splash of red. Panic clawed its way up Keith’s throat, and he was out of his seat before he could register unbuckling his own straps, looking frantically around the bridge. 

“He’s here somewhere,” Pidge fretted, “he couldn’t’ve just disappeared –” 

Coran had a gloved hand clenched in his hair. “The windows and walls should be almost impenetrable, there is no way the crash broke them enough to let someone in –”

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck –”

“Guys,” a soft voice interrupted, and Keith could’ve collapsed with relief. The castle has been flipped sideways during the fall, floor suddenly now 90 degrees, and standing at the side of the control board, now the very high top, was Lance. For whatever reason he had climbed it while they bickered, and now stood very still, gloved hand pressed to the glass of the windshield. Blood trickled from his temple, tracing a line down the side of his face, disappearing in the neckline of his armour. “We got company.”

Shifting gears – Keith was about to tear him a new one, when Shiro says sound off you sound off – but froze when he looked out the window, following Lance’s gaze.

Marching towards them, in numbers Keith couldn’t pretend to count, was an army.

— — —

part two

[sentientgolfball]

okay golfball NO i cant stop thinking about the phantom/mountain and then swiss think nghngnghg the fucking ENDING arghgfhhfhg id totally die if you wrote a continuation to this like...does swiss accept the challenge??? how does phantom feel about maybe being fought over so soon??? maybe they discover they have a thing for objectification and/or posessiveness??? i MUST know my friend

I think. Mayhaps. I got a little carried away with this. I hope everyone enjoys part 2 to this mwhehehehehe :3

Word Count: 2953

Tags: irresponsible use of earth magick, probably the meanest I've written Mount, objectification, free use

He’s stopped by a low growl coming from Mountain. He looks up, meeting his emerald eyes. He can see the warning in the way they darken. Swiss grins, fangs flashing in the dim light of the setting sun. He’s never been one to back down from a challenge.  

“You know, sharing is caring Mount.” Swiss tugs Phantom closer to him with the grip on their tail. They whimper despite the way their cock begins to chub up again. 

Mountain doesn’t respond verbally. He growls again, deep like rolling thunder. He bares his fangs and his eyes begin to glow softly. It takes Swiss a moment to process, but he’s too late. The forest of plants in Mountain’s room come to life, thick, leafy vines wrapping around his arms and neck. Swiss curses and tries to fight his way out of their grip, but he can’t. Not without destroying them. The vines tighten and twist until they’re able to force Swiss to let go of Phantom, tying his arms securely behind his back. He glares at Mountain. 

“You really wanna do this? Right in front of the new summon?” 

“Yeah hey what the fuck is going on?” Phantom murmurs. 

Mountain doesn’t respond. Either because he didn’t hear them or he doesn’t care to answer, Swiss isn’t sure. Instead he tugs Phantom closer until they’re squished against his chest. 

“Hey Mountain. Buddy—oh.” They’re stopped when he sinks his fangs into the side of their neck. He keeps eye contact with Swiss. Phantom squirms in his arms. Their cock gets so hard so fast it makes them lightheaded. 

“Are you fucking serious,” Swiss snarls, “You’re that much of a possessive bitch you can’t even—“ 

The vines around Swiss’ neck tighten. Not enough to cut off airflow, but enough to have him gasping. He thrashes, instincts taking over as he tries to get away. They only grow tighter around him. 

Mountain detaches himself from Phantom’s neck, blood staining his lips. He doesn’t seal the wound, letting rivers of ruby drip down their chest. He swipes his tongue over his fangs, still holding eye contact with Swiss. Phantom is panting quietly in the space between them. 

“You don’t touch things that don’t belong to you,” Mountain’s voice is deep, deeper than usual and gravelly. 

The words make something stir within Phantom. The sinister look in Mountain’s eyes isn’t helping that feeling. They’ve never belonged to anyone before. Never had more than a few interactions with other ghouls before being summoned. Now they’re pressed tight to this massive earth ghoul’s chest with their blood running down his face, staining his fangs. That combined with the sudden change from sweet and attentive to predatory and snarling has their head swimming. The gentle Mountain was nice, but they think they’d like to get to know this one even more. 

Their focus is pulled from Mountain with choked off curses in Infernal spilling from Swiss’ lips. They watch him struggling against the vines, black and white eyes rapidly changing colors as he tries to get ahold of his elements. They knew Swiss had eyes for them, kind of hard not to with their quintessence. But watching him actively trying to defy Mountain, just to get to them, makes more heat pool in their stomach. It makes their cock throb where it’s trapped against Mountain’s abdomen. 

Mountain grips their jaw hard, forcing them to look back at him. His expression is cold, a stark contrast to the adoration from mere moments ago. Mountain studies them, eyeing them like a bug caught under a microscope. Phantom feels their cheek heat at his stoic gaze. Suddenly he sighs. 

“Will you be quiet,” he growls, snapping his fangs. 

Swiss gets one last hiss in before another vine wraps around his mouth, effectively gagging him. If looks could kill, Mountain would be a dead man. Swiss’ tail lashes wildly behind him, the air whistling behind him as it whips. 

“Better,” he turns his attention back to Phantom,” since he cannot fathom that I got to you first, I’ll just have to restake my claim.”

Phantom gasps when they feel Mountain trace a finger around their hole. He doesn’t hesitate to dip two fingers inside, reveling in the feeling of his cum still there. It’s not like they need the prep after the first time, but Mountain doesn’t care. He likes listening to the sweet little sounds they make when he curls his fingers just right. And he loves watching Swiss sweat, eyes blazing with desire and breathing heavily through his nostrils like the muzzled beast he is. He slips a third finger in, still meeting no resistance, just to watch his pupils blow. 

Mountain grins when he feels Phantom’s tail wrap around his forearm. He uses his other hand to gently pet along the length of it before unwinding it. He tugs their tail up roughly, earning a wounded little whine. He exposes them completely, staring down Swiss over their shoulder while he works his fingers. Swiss played the wrong game with the wrong ghoul. Mountain won’t relent until he’s crying. But Swiss is a stubborn fool, he won’t go down just from some foreplay. Good thing Mountain is determined. 

He slides his fingers out of Phantom with a slick pop, spreading their cheeks just so Swiss can watch his cum drip out of their ass. He growls, fangs puncturing the vine that’s wrapped around his mouth. Mountain flinches, glaring at him. 

“Do that again and we’ll have a real problem on our hands.” A vine with massive thorns slithers out from under the bed, stopping right at Swiss’ feet. The thorns are thick, all black and red at the very tips. Swiss immediately recognizes them as flora from the Pit. He’s too afraid to even wonder how Mountain was able to grow these, let alone why. 

Just as quickly as they appeared, they disappear. Slithering back under the bed, out of sight but not out of mind. Swiss just nods, message received loud and clear. Mountain hums before turning his attention back to Phantom. He slides his hands up, wrapping around their waist. Phantom follows the movement with their eyes and nearly chokes when they see his thumbs are practically touching. Obviously Mountain is big, but they never realized how small they were. 

They don’t have long to sit on this revelation before his hold tightens. He grips them roughly, sure to leave bruises in the morning. Mountain lifts them with ease, positioning them so that their hole is hovering right over his cock. Mountain shifts to plant his hooves firmly on the mattress. The movement brushes the tip against them and Phantom lets out a shuddering breath. Without warning Mountain slams them down, hips meeting hips. They’re still so open from the first time that he goes in with almost no resistance. There’s the faintest stinging feeling of stretching and it makes Phantom’s mouth water. 

“You were made for me weren’t you?” Mountain rumbles as he begins to rock his hips up into them. 

Phantom just nods deliriously, a soft little uhhuh falling from their lips. It’s too hard to think of a more intelligible response with a dick the size of their forearm pushing against their prostate. Mountain hums in approval before dipping his head to lick up the trails of dried blood. He drags his tongue all the way to the source. The bite is no longer dripping, but it’s still wet and shiny with the blood that’s bubbling at the surface. Mountain traces the outline of his fang indents before wrapping his lips around the wound and sucking. Phantom keens, digging their claws into his shoulders. The pricks of pain send a zap of pleasure down Mountain’s spine, pooling in his stomach. He slams his hips into Phantom with enough force to have them gasping. 

Swiss can’t take his eyes off of where they meet, can’t look away from the sight of Phantom’s hole stretching around Mountain’s cock. From the way each thrust has more and more of Mountain’s cum dripping down his length to coat his balls. He’s so hard it hurts and he wants nothing more than to bury himself inside of his sweet little bug. He knows exactly what to do to get what he wants. He just has to wait. Wait until Mountain’s focus waivers enough for Swiss to use his own little bit of earth to get these vines off of him. Until then he’ll enjoy the show. 

Phantom feels overwhelmed in the best way possible. They can’t decide whether to focus on the feeling of Mountain practically sucking their blood or the way he’s hammering into a spot so deep within them they didn’t even realize it was there. It’s maddening and they want more. That combined with the feeling of Swiss’ gaze on their body makes their mind feel fuzzy. Being put on display like this makes everything feel more intense if that were even possible. Sure they’ve seen their new packmates go at each other, but to be on the other end of it is something else entirely. They think they prefer it this way. 

Mountain hits a particularly good spot and it has their body instinctively clenching. Though, it’s a fruitless effort with how stretched open they are. Still, Mountain must feel something because he grunts against Phantom’s skin before picking up the pace. It has Phantom gasping and writhing against him, falling boneless against his chest. They wrap their arms around his shoulders and bury their face in the crook of his neck, trying to stay grounded. It's all they can do with the force Mountain is fucking them. 

“Taking it so good bug,” he murmurs into their ear, “nobody is ever going to be able to fuck you like this. They’ll try and all you’ll be able to do is think of me.” 

Swiss narrows his eyes. He can’t hear what he’s saying, but he knows if Mountain is muttering filth into Phantom’s ear then he’s close. Swiss won’t have to wait to get his hands on his little bug much longer. His black and white eyes shift to a deep forest green as he begins to work his own earth magick into the vines. 

Mountain doesn’t notice. He’s too caught up in the feeling of Phantom wrapped around him. Too close to care about anything that’s not immediate pleasure. He sucks a mark in the space between their ear and jaw and they let out the prettiest, high pitched moan. That’s enough for Mountain. He gets about three good thrusts in before he cums with a shout. He rocks his hips through the waves of his orgasm, fucking his spend as deep as he can inside of Phantom. He kisses and licks across their neck, taking in as much of that ozone and frozen apple scent as he can. He’s not even aware of them shaking in his arms, working their way through their own release. That is, until a sudden weight on the bed steals his attention. 

Mountain lifts his head from Phantom’s neck slowly, chest still heaving. Swiss is kneeling on the mattress right next to them, a dangerous grin on his face. Mountain watches the green bleed from his eyes, shifting back to their normal black and white. 

“My turn.” He narrows his eyes. 

To his surprise, Mountain relents. He loosens his hold on Phantom enough that Swiss is able to pull them against him. 

“You going soft on me, Mount?” Swiss teases, hungry eyes roaming over Phantom. 

“Not at all.” 

Swiss yelps when a hand wraps around a horn, yanking his head to expose his neck. Mountain shifts the fabric of his muscle tee out of the way, just enough to expose the raised lines of scarred tissue that rests in the spot where shoulder meets neck. 

“No harm in letting my toys play for a little.” As if to drive his point home, Mountain presses his thumb into the old mark. Swiss involuntarily whimpers at the pressure, a blush dusting his cheeks. 

Normally he’d argue, make things difficult just for his own amusement. Not this time. Swiss has been handed what he wants on a silver platter and he’s not going to push his luck. He’ll save that for another night. Instead he shakes himself out of Mountain’s hold, glaring at him before turning his attention to Phantom. He runs a clawed hand through their hair, earning himself a reedy little whine when he scratches against their scalp. 

“You wanna be used so bad, don’t you?” Swiss asks all too sweet for the situation at hand. 

“Please,” Phantom breathes before they can even think about what Swiss is saying. 

“Oh an eager little thing. I like that. Don’t you worry bug, I’ll give you exactly what you want.” Swiss uses his other hand to pull the waistband of his sweatpants down. 

He slides them down far enough to get his cock out, not bothering with taking them all the way off. Phantom’s eyes go wide at the little gold bead at the tip. They didn’t know you could get pierced there too. Swiss laughs at the way they stare at it. 

“Like what you see?” 

“Uhhuh” Phantom mumbles with a shake of their head. 

Swiss hums, “Why don’t you show it how much you like it?” 

Swiss uses the hand in their hair to bring them that much closer to his cock. Phantom gets the hint, tongue flicking out to experimentally lick at the slit. They make a low noise in their throat when the taste of him hits their tongue. They dive back in, tongue lapping up every drop of pre that bubbles up. 

“Come on buggy, kiss it. Suck it. It’s not nice to tease.” 

Mountain snorts, “That’s rich coming from you.” 

“Can it dirt boy. You know you—“ 

Swiss chokes on his words when Phantom wraps their lips around the tip of his cock. They run the flat of their tongue over the bar of the piercing and Swiss sees stars. The hand nestled in their hair tightens, pushing them down farther. He’s able to shove them down until their nose is pressed against the coarse hair at the base without them gagging or pulling back. Swiss laughs when realization hits. 

“You really were made for taking dick, huh?” 

Phantom looks up at him through their lashes. There’s a sheen of wetness in their eyes, but they don’t make a move to detach themselves from him. Swiss gives an experimental roll of his hips and the little noise they make stokes the fire in his veins. He gently traces their jaw with the tips of his fingers, trailing them down until he wraps that hand around their throat. Swiss doesn’t apply any pressure, just holds them. 

He pulls out of their mouth until just the tip is resting against their bottom lip. He tilts his head, flashes a fang filled smile before shoving himself back in in one go. He fucks Phantom’s throat with urgency, desperate now that he finally has his cock in them. He doesn’t even feel the bite of their claws in his thighs, too lost in the feeling of himself through their skin. Phantom is pliant, breathing heavily through their nose and keeping their jaw lax so Swiss can take what he needs. They want to be used. They like being used. 

Swiss can’t take his eyes off of their face. The dusky little blush that goes from the tips of their ears to the base of their neck. Their unfocused, hazy eyes. Pupils blown, consumed entirely by lust. The stray trails of tears that manage to slip from the corners. The way their lips and chin are shiny from a mix of drool and pre. It’s too much for him. Fuck it’s too much. 

He gets a few more good thrusts in before he slams them down as far as they’ll possibly go. Swiss’ head tips back when he cums, a long drawn out moan echoing around the room. He shudders as Phantom eagerly swallows around him, drinking down every last drop. Savoring the taste of him. Swiss finally pulls them off when pleasure turns to overstimulation. 

They smile deliriously at him, a line of salvia still connecting their lips to the head of his cock. Swiss smiles back, pulling them up to his chest and flopping back onto the pillows. Mountain shifts so that he can pull the tangle of ghouls closer to him. 

“You with us little love?” Mountain runs his hands through their hair, careful to not pull on any knots. 

“I think…I think I discovered some things about myself tonight,” they laugh a little, smiling at both of the bigger ghouls. 

“Glad we could be of service.” Swiss kisses between their horns with a grin. 

They chuff happily, nuzzling their nose into the crook of Swiss’ neck. Their tail wrapping around one of Mountain’s legs. Mountain shifts closer to Swiss, resting his head on top of his, careful to avoid his horns. Swiss tilts his head up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. 

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” Mountain murmurs into his hair. 

“No Momo I’m okay. Scared the fuck of me though when you brought out that trailing death.” 

Mountain hums, “You know I’d never actually let it prick you, right?” 

Swiss kisses him again, gently rubbing at the base of Phantom’s horn, “Course I do…but why the fuck do you even have that?” 

Mountain pulls back ever so slightly, just even to be able to look down at him. He smiles, “Its leaves make a wonderful sedative. So sweet you’d never know they were in there.”