#rain ghoul (in the distance)

[miasmaghoul]

There is so much talk of creaming jorts on my blog right now and you know, it gave me a devious idea:

Mountain (or another ghoul of your choosing ofc, but it is still march haha) is getting close to the start of a rut, which has them feeling a little posessive a packmate pre-ritual. Like he needs to claim them a little to scratch the itch under their skin. What if they were having a sneaky make out session before curtain call and he unbuckled the others belt, creamed into their jorts undies and buckled them back up, just in time for them to feel him all ritual?

Gross.

I love it.

Leaned more into the possessive side of things, hope you don't mind!

(This has been sitting in my drafts for months I'm SO SORRY pretend it's still March shhhh)

Mountain breathes deep through his nose, trying to focus on the book in his hand as the van trundles down the road toward tonight's venue. It's some pulpy crime novel he'd grabbed at the last airport they visited, something intended to distract more than entertain, but despite being more than halfway through it Mountain couldn't name a single character if he tried.

He can't help it. Can't think about anything but the way every inch of him has started to buzz, how the very air around him hums.

There's a specific sort of pressure in the back of his head. Rigidity in the muscles along his spine. A disquieting tingle that's come to settle into his gut. It all speaks to one thing, and it couldn't be coming at a worse time.

It had started last night, a sharp spike of nearly painful arousal that had hit him in the middle of the night. Had roused him from an otherwise very sound sleep and jolted him so badly that the oversized ghoul had hit his head on the ceiling of his bunk. It hardly registered, Mountain honed in exclusively on the sudden, urgent need for release.

Rock hard and leaking already, he'd wasted no time in shoving his hands into his sleep sweats, gripping himself and pumping his hips into the tight channel of both fists. Forced to bite his tongue to mute the harsh groan threatening to escape his throat when he blew in a matter of seconds, eyes shut so tight that colors bloomed behind his lids.

It happened again in the bus shower this morning, Mountain struck by a wave of need so intense that he'd doubled over and nearly slipped. He'd lasted a little longer that time, not that he'd needed to, and the wet sound of his soapy hand flying over his cock still echoed in his ears. That one had left him dizzy, left him panting against the shower wall while he watched his load swirl down the drain.

There really are few things worse than an unexpected rut.

He knows that the others know, but most of them don't acknowledge it. He'd caught them all staring at different points, nostrils flared, but they were quick to look away. Dew, Rain, Cirrus and Cumulus did their best to be sly about it, furtive glances cast during casual conversation. Aeon and Aurora weren't quite so subtle - he could smell the pair of them from down the length of the bus. Could see Aeon getting chubby in his too-tight jeans and Aurora squeezing her thighs together. Both tempting in their own ways, to be sure.

But then there was Swiss.

Swiss, who he'd heard noisily tugging at himself in the bunk below while he came down from his first orgasm.

Swiss, who had been standing bright-eyed and grinning just outside the bathroom after Mountain's shower.

Swiss, who had spent the entire morning tossing him hungry glances and touching him at every possible opportunity.

Swiss, who now sits pressed tightly to his side in the cramped van while Mountain does his damnedest to ignore the heat of his body, the spice of his cologne and the weight of the hand on his knee.

Mountain can hardly think for how badly he wants. Wants to wrench Swiss's arm behind his back, get a hand in his hair and shove his tongue down his throat. Wants to tug Swiss into his lap in front of everyone and feel him up, wants to suck deep, dark marks into his neck while he grinds against his ass. Wants to get Swiss's strong legs over his shoulders, wants to get so deep inside that Swiss can't do anything but writhe and beg for his -

"You're growling, big guy," Swiss informs him, voice silken gravel, and Mountain nearly tears his book in half. He gives the other ghoul a sidelong glance, and Mountain knows that if they weren't glamoured Swiss would be smiling with every fang in his mouth. "Somethin' on your mind?"

Mountain doesn't deign to answer him, instead choosing to stare at the page he hasn't turned in the last ten minutes. To pretend his dick isn't hard as granite and leaking into the two pairs of too-tight underwear he'd shoved himself into.

He's first out of the van when they finally pull up to the amphitheater, sucking down heavy lungfuls of fresh, summertime air in an effort to clear his head. To wash away the heady scent of smoky whiskey, black pepper and bitter herbs stuck in his nose. To allow himself to think about anything but the familiar warmth of Swiss's body.

About the way he always holds himself open when Mountain bends him over. The way he moans in that deliciously whorish way when Mountain pushes in. The way Swiss's voice drops to a rasp and his breathing goes shallow when Mountain grips those narrow hips with bruising force. The way he grabs at his own hair when Mountain fucks him just right. The way Swiss's pretty little hole stretches around his -

"Mount!"

Rain's voice shakes him from his stupor, and as his cock pulses and leaks to memories of Swiss, Mountain hurries over to join his packmates. Rain gives him a worried look.

"Hey, you alright?" He reaches out to touch Mountain's arm, but seems to think better of it. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest. "I know you're, uh..." he makes a vague southward gesture, "...struggling."

"I'm fine," Mountain grumbles, not so subtly adjusting himself and hoping he hasn't soaked a wet spot into his jeans. He catches a whiff of warm spice and old weed, and as Swiss breezes past them Mountain can practically feel his pupils narrow.

Rain seems less than convinced when Mountain proceeds to crack his knuckles, but he drops the subject nonetheless. They head inside together, and Mountain does his best to put on his game face.

He still stops in a bathroom along the way, unable to erase the image of Swiss stretched and keening from his mind. He spills into the toilet with the other ghoul's name on his tongue, and huffs out an irritated sigh when no relief follows.

This is going to be a very long show.

Still though, the hours between arrival and showtime pass in a blur. Soundcheck comes and goes, as do their myriad meetings with venue staff and conversations with their techs.

Through it all, Mountain can feel golden eyes boring into him. In the halls, on stage, in the dressing room. Mountain does his best to ignore the weight of Swiss's gaze as he applies his face paint, but the only other thing he can think of is the red-hot tangle of urgency between his legs. He meets Swiss's eyes in the vanity mirror as he slips on his helmet, the other ghoul peering at him over Rain's shoulder while they chat across the room.

He offers a wink through his lenses, and Mountain's balls ache.

The call comes for ten minutes til showtime, and the others make their way from the dressing one by one. Swiss doesn't so much as move from his position against the wall. Mountain can feel his breaths coming quicker as Aurora and Cumulus share a sideways hug, the door clicking shut behind them, and then they're alone.

They're alone, and Swiss grins.

Mountain's across the room in two stride, and before Swiss can so much as breathe he's pinned to the wall by his throat. Mountain snarls in his face, leaning in until he can feel Swiss' breath on his lips, hot and tobacco tinged.

"Why must you always insist on being such a fucking tease?"

Swiss' lips curl up at the corners despite the pressure on his neck, and something predatory prickles at the back of Mountain's mind.

"Not my fault you're thrown' off pheromones like crazy," he said, just a little strained. Swiss rolls his hips towards his pelvis and Mountain's stomach gives a mighty swoop. "Can't blame me for wanting a taste."

Swiss licks at the air, breathes deep, and Mountain squeezes his throat so tight his eyes roll back.

"Can't even ask for what you want, can you?" The taller ghoul's other hand finds Swiss' belt and Mountain unbuckles it with aggresive fingers. He knows he's growling as best he can through his glamour, and the way Swiss shivers says he gets the message. "Too stupid to use your words? Just have to be a fucking tease about it?"

Swiss gives him a hurried nod as he swallows against the pressure of Mountain's palm, and he grunts when Mountain yanks his pants and briefs down in one go. A rough hand gropes his rapidly thickening cock, and Swiss visibly winces, eyes bright.

"Don't make that face." Mountain pulls his hand from Swiss' growing chubby to unzip his own pants, to fish himself out through his already stained briefs. "You asked for this." He groans at his own touch, cock hot and heavy in his hand. He smears the wet tip of it over Swiss' shaft and the sensation wrenches a moan from him.

Swiss licks his lips, nods again as his eyes drift south, and as Mountain starts to stroke himself he chokes out a pained huff. Mountain's hold on the other ghoul's throat never slackens, not even as his chest starts to heave while his cock jumps. He pulls at himself with firm tugs, each one sounding slicker than the last. Swiss lets his helmet thud back against the wall, hands coming up to rest on Mountain's forearm. He rocks forward and Mountain growls, can't keep himself from pressing closer. From crowding Swiss to the wall and bumping his fat cock with every pass of his fist.

"I'm going to give you something special." They're close enough that Swiss's breath clouds his lenses. Mountain's balls are starting to go tight already, the tension settled into every part of his body melting into tingly heat that has his shoulders sagging. "Something to think about while you're dancing like a whore for all those people."

He works himself hard and fast, the urgent heat in his veins threatening to set his skin alight. Swiss's ignored cock bobs and bounces, the other ghoul gripping his choking arm tight and spitting tight curses through clenched fangs every time Mountain nudges it.

"Touch me," Swiss manages to spit, blunt nails digging through his shirt. He bucks as best he can, but all that accomplishes is a brief bump against Mountain's fist. "Mount - Mount you gotta -"

He gurgles when Mountain squeezes him into silence, huffing while he polishes his leaking tip.

"Shut up," he bites out, teeth clenched chest heaving. "Sluts don't get to make demands."

For once in his life, Swiss keep his mouth shut.

It's no time at all before Mountain's balls draw up, his hips twitching in animalistic jerks. He grunts with every stroke, brow knit behind his mask, and the closer he gets the better Swiss's strained gurgling sounds.

"Gonna make sure they all know you're mine."

Swiss's cock spits a blurt of pre that hits his stroking hand, and with an impossibly deep moan Mountain shoots in thick ropes that splatter against his cock, balls and muscular thighs. Heavy streaks that cling to heated skin and coarse hair. That leave him filthy and marked in a way that has Swiss's knees wobbling. Mountain doesn't release his throat until his cock dribbles its last, and the deep, starved breath Swiss sucks in is musc to Mountain's ears.

He steps away while Swiss catches his breath and struggles to keep his legs under him, heads back to vanity to clean himself up. He hisses as the hand towel he finds scratches at his sensitive flesh, and in the mirror Swiss catches his eyes once more.

"Just gonna leave me like this?" Swiss pants, gesturing at his flushed, messy cock. He sounds surprised, and Mountain really can't imagine why. A pearly stripe drips, beads up to leave a stain in his undies that has Mountain drooling.

"Deal with it," he rumbles in response, tucking himself away and fastening his belt. "I want to smell it on you tonight."

He has the pleasure of watching Swiss' eyelids droop behind his lenses at the timbre of his voice, rich with intent. Mountain grabs his sticks and heads to join the others, and the sound of Swiss's zipper makes him smirk. There's something deeply satisfying about leaving him sticky and wanting, and even though he's hard again halfway through Kaisarion Mountain finds it easy to lose himself in his musicmaking.

Until Watcher in the Sky comes up and he makes the mistake of peeking over at Swiss's platform while Dew's guitar wails. Finds him on his knees and elbows with his ass in the air.

As both of his sticks splinter in half, Mountain swears he's going to make Swiss cry tonight.

It's what the slut deserves.

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

Ghoulette Appreciation Week 11

Week 11: Caught in the rain & Long distance relationships

Right, I'm actually back now! And I've finally completed all the Ghoulette Appreciation weeks prompts!

Aurora misses Mist while she's away on tour. The rain reminds her of their full moon nights together at the lake.

Rating: G Content: Long distance relationship, pining Words: 1055

Read below, or on AO3!

It had been several weeks since the band ghouls had left on tour, and Aurora was missing Mist something terrible. Swiss had been trying his best to keep her company, the pair quickly becoming good friends over the course of the tour, but watching his budding relationship with Phantom grow had made Aurora miss her more than ever. Cirrus and Cumulus had tried their best too, but Aurora knew they were also missing Sunshine, and wanted to give them space without her always tagging along as a third wheel. 

After another ritual ended, once the grease paint had been washed off and the screams of the fans had gone quiet, the ghouls sleepily made their way to the bus. Aurora felt a small tug from her water element connection as she left the concert venue. Looking up, a full moon hung low in the sky above, mostly obscured by dark clouds. Rain had been the first ghoul to leave. He had made a beeline for the bus, keen to get back to the hotel as soon as possible to try and sleep through it’s pull. They were so far from water here, the only river a brown and polluted trickle. He wouldn’t find peace until he was back at the Abbey with the lake and all it’s magic.  

Aurora couldn’t wait to be back there either: she adored spending full moon nights with the water ghouls down at the lake, perched on the end of the dock with her feet in the water as she watched Mist frolic around. Mist. Aurora missed her so much; the pang of longing for her hurt far worse than any tidal pull. 

She stared up at the sky above her head, and the moon that was now beginning to emerge. Briefly, it broke through a small gap in the swirling clouds and Aurora wondered if Mist was also looking at the same moon in that moment. She wondered if Mist would be at their usual end of the lake, in the shallow waters around the dock. It was just deep enough there for her to launch herself out of the water like a dolphin, splashing Aurora and demanding applause for her tricks, while still being close enough that even in the moonlight Aurora could make out where she was underwater from the faint ripples on the surface. Or would she be further out, far away from the Abbey’s human additions to the lake, in the unfathomably deep waters where leviathans were rumoured to lurk. That was where the water ghouls recharged their power the fastest, and Aurora felt a pang of guilt that Mist might stay away from there just for her.  

Sighing, Aurora stepped onto the bus. The journey to the hotel was not a long one, yet it felt like it lasted hours as she sat by herself behind the driver. She was the first off when the doors finally hissed open. She stepped lightly down, jumping to the side to allow Rain to barrel past her, his face turned into his collar away from the direction of the moon. Dew followed behind at a more human pace, clutching both of their overnight bags. The others groggily followed. 

The moon was completely obscured behind clouds again, nothing but a diffuse glow telling of its presence, but she felt it just as strongly. With a low rumble, the clouds began to empty their contents onto the ghouls assembled below, sending them scattering towards the hotel doors as fast as possible. Aurora gasped at the sudden shock of the cold, but remained where she stood and tilted her face up into the downpour. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine just for a second that it was Mist splashing her with water from the lake. The caress of the cold raindrops felt like the shadow of an embrace from her beloved water ghoulette, so many miles away. 

Ignoring the shouts from the hotel doors beckoning her to coming inside, Aurora wandered in the direction of the attached gardens. The raindrops seemed to dance ahead of her on the concrete path, the smell of petrichor coming up from the ground pulling her forward like a magic spell. She drifted along the pathways, the feeling of water gradually seeping into her canvas shoes hardly bothering her. Running her fingers delicately over the waxy leaves of a shrub, they reminded her of Mist’s smooth scales, the water slowly dripping off the plant in the same unhurried manner. 

She followed her instincts, drifting through the small garden until she reached the centre. A small pond awaited her there, the surface churned up by the rain reflecting the dim glow of the moon into a thousand smaller pieces. Aurora gingerly perched on the low wall surrounding it, kicking off her sodden shoes to dip her toes into the water. She closed her eyes again and pictured herself back on the dock at the lake. Mist would be just in front of her, her head popping up out of the water to shoot her a mischievous grin, gills flaring, before disappearing as quickly as she had appeared with a sharp flick of her tail. Aurora would scan the water, searching for signs of her lurking beneath the surface, waiting to be found.  

When Aurora opened her eyes to the pond again, she could have sworn she saw a shape that looked like Mist withing the pond. Disappointed, she realised the shock of platinum hair and ice blue eyes were just tricks of the light from the reflected moon above. Sighing once more in frustration at her separation from the ghoulette she loved, Aurora stood up and cringed at the feeling of squeezing her wet feet into equally wet shoes. Hopefully they would be dry by the morning. If not, perhaps Cirrus could use her magical blow-dryer hands – Cumulus’s words, not hers – to make them wearable. 

Squelching into the hotel lobby, she was met by the two air ghoulettes holding the overnight bag she had completely forgotten about. With caring smiles, full of sympathy for her separation from her long-distance mate and containing love of their own, they gently led a now-shivering Aurora upstairs with promises of a warm bath. Perhaps they would add those eucalyptus salts that reminded her of a certain water ghoulette…  

[thesightstoshowyou]

Don’t Overthink It

John Hancock (Fallout 4) x F Reader (NSFW)

Summary: Hancock invites you back to his place for a drink and some fun.

Warnings: Implied that reader is a sex worker, talk of drug use, sexual tension and silly flirting, Hancock is a cunning linguist and a gentleman, some goofy moments, some sweet moments, mild exhibitionism, multiple orgasms.

Rain drips from the torn awning of the Hotel Rexford when you emerge. The streets of Goodneighbor glisten from the recent storm, the neon sign above giving the surrounding space an eerie red glow. Little streams of rainwater flow in the gutters to rinse away the refuse littering the street.

Your heels click on cracked concrete as you sidestep a puddle. The bag slung over your shoulder rattles with newly obtained caps when you adjust your dress. You’re set for the week now with what you made tonight.

A cool breeze rushes over your skin and a shiver skitters up your spine. You hadn’t thought to bring a coat; it had been much warmer earlier in the evening. Shaking out your hair, you sigh and steel yourself for the walk home. Your feet are already killing you.

Across the street, two Triggermen send shy glances in your direction. You wink and waggle your fingers, a coy wave. One quickly turns away while the other offers a tentative greeting. Quietly, you chuckle, amused by how quickly even gangsters can turn into teenage boys.

In the distance, a familiar, gruff voice calls your name. A smile stretches across your face. “Aw, if it isn’t my favorite ghoul,” you greet as Hancock strolls down the lane toward you. “Hi there, Mr. Mayor.”

“Favorite, huh?” he replies, sidling up next to you and slipping an arm around your waist. You’re grateful for his body heat, a respite from the chill, but his clothes are damp, like he’d been waltzing carefree through the storm. The caustic scent of ozone typical of a ghoul hangs heavy around him, made more obvious by the rain. Hancock’s head tips back and lolls to the side a little, telling you he’s sailing on chems.

Your fingers hook into the collar of his jacket and you reach up to adjust his hat before it takes a tumble. “Mmm hmm. You’re at the top of my list,” you purr, a grin pulling at the corners of your mouth.

A drop of chilly water drips from his hat onto your cheek and you flinch and laugh, only to squeal and attempt to wriggle away when Hancock shakes his head to shower you. “You’re all wet!” you chastise, playfully smacking him in the arm.

“Heh, not wet enough,” he murmurs, raising rad-scarred brows.

“Is that an innuendo, Mayor?”

“Could be. You working, babe?” he questions, shamelessly allowing his dark gaze to rove over your body.

“I was. Just finished.” A pleased hum rumbles in his throat at your response.

“Where you headed?” His other hand joins its twin around your waist and he pulls you flush against him. He’s handsy today, always is when he’s flying, but you don’t mind. Hancock has never laid a finger on you that you didn’t want.

“Depends on who’s asking,” you quip. As you speak, your pointer finger smooths down a divot in his neck. You feel his chest lift against your palm, a quick intake of breath at the contact.

“Your favorite ghoul’s asking, sweetheart.”

“I don’t really know what it is he’s asking though.” You bite the inside of your cheek to keep your giggle contained. Hancock narrows his eyes in what would be a menacing gesture if not for the dopey grin plastered on his face.

“He’s asking you to come have a drink with him.” You hum in feigned enlightenment.

“Sure, I’m up for that. The Third Rail?” you ask, half-turning to make your way down the street. Hancock tugs you back against him and shakes his head.

“Nah. My place.”

You quirk an eyebrow. The Old State House? That’s new.

“Just what are you hinting at, Mayor?” you tease, a scandalized look crossing your face.

“Getting real tired of your questions, doll,” Hancock jokes. He clears his throat and leans in closer, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath ghosting across your lips. “I ain’t hinting anything, baby. I’m asking if you wanna come back to my place, get drunk, and fuck.”

“Oh,” you squeak, all playfulness leaving your expression as your cheeks heat up. You weren’t expecting something so straightforward, though you suppose Hancock is never one to beat around the bush. The chems have emboldened him, you guess. Though, does he mean—

“And just to be clear,” he continues like he can read your mind. One of his hands raises to cup your face so a rough thumb can stroke your cheek, “I ain’t talking about a business arrangement. I wanna fuck you cuz I like you.”

The air suddenly feels much warmer than it had a moment ago. You wonder if this is just some impulsive, chem-induced fancy. Perhaps he happened upon you and decided, in the moment, he wanted some company for the evening. Hancock is an instinct driven guy, after all. Or is this something that has been on his mind for some time?

And…does it matter?

You like Hancock. He’s charming, funny, and a hero to the people here in Goodneighbor. Going home with him sounds like a much better way to spend your evening compared what you had planned. It seems like a no-brainer, so why are you hesitating?

“You’re thinking too hard, doll.” You huff a laugh when Hancock brushes a damp strand of your hair out of your face.

“You caught me off guard,” you tell him honestly.

“I could sober up a little and take you on a date first, if you’d rather do it that way,” he comments with a shrug. You can’t suppress the surprised sound his words bring. He’s serious about this.

All at once, that constricted feeling in your chest evaporates and you give his jacket a little tug. “Maybe next time. I’d love to join you for a drink, Mr. Mayor.” The overjoyed expression that takes over his face makes your heart flutter like bird wings.

“Right this way, love.”

**

The two of you don’t even make through the door.

The drag of his gnarled lips against yours raises goosebumps along your skin. He holds your face and backs you up against the doorway to his room. The tricorn hat topples off his head and lands somewhere behind him, forgotten. Your fingers tighten around the ruffles of his shirt and a breathy moan slips from your mouth when he sucks on your bottom lip.

“You smell so fucking good,” he rasps as his lips move to your neck. One hand tangles in your hair while the other slips past your waist and over your hip. Hancock palms a handful of your ass, grunting when you brush your thigh between his legs. Teeth on your pulse make you gasp and arch against him.

Suddenly, he drops to his knees. Already breathless, you watch as he scoops up one of your feet to peel your heel off and toss it over his shoulder. “Bet that feels better, huh?” he rumbles, grinning up at you as he slips off your other shoe. You’re so endeared by the thoughtful gesture you can’t help but laugh as you nod.

Hancock winks and turns his attention to your legs. Rough hands catch on your stockings when he smooths his palms over your calves. Inching higher, he pushes the hem of your skirt up to your hips, but stops short to groan at the sight of your garter belt.

“You’re killing me, babe,” he purrs. He plants a kiss to the welt of your stocking, then trails his lips higher. He only pauses to quickly yank your panties down and off. Hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, he dives right in, the flat of his tongue laving through your folds and over your clit. You suck in air through your teeth and your head falls back against the door with a muted thud.

Hancock moans, open-mouthed against your cunt like a starving man digging into his first meal in days. The vibration of his husky voice combined with enthusiastic way he wiggles his head and nurses on your clit has you all but humping his face in minutes. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you mewl and bow forward, pleasure coiling tight in your belly.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you whine as you tense, toes curling. Hancock responds by sucking harder and grabbing your ass with both hands to pull you closer. A high-pitched, breathy, “Fuck,” escapes you as your eyes roll back, the coil unwinding and sending rolling waves of heat cascading through you.

“Give me another one, baby,” he orders before resuming his ministrations. This time, he slips two fingers into your fluttering cunt and curls them, rubbing circles until you see stars.

“S-s-shit! Han—

You can’t finish, a cry overtaking your vocal cords when you cum again. Your hips twitch as pleasure surges through your belly, up your back, and down your thighs. “Ohhhh my god,” you groan, sighing contentedly when you slump back against the door.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” Hancock praises, wiping his mouth on the back of his arm. You taste yourself when he jumps to his feet and crushes his lips to yours in a heated kiss. Giggling and near drunk on pleasure, you push his jacket off his shoulders before moving to work open his pants.

A strained sound sticks in his throat when your fingers trace the hot flesh of his cock. You hum and nibble on his lip as he hastily shimmies out of his pants. They get caught on his boots, but he doesn’t seem to care as he lifts you clean off the ground. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

“Mind if I ruin that pretty pussy?” Hancock questions against your lips, the corners of his own curling up in a smirk.

“Don’t make me wait anymore,” you whisper, bucking to grind against his length. Hancock wastes no time in angling his hips and easing his girth into your slick channel. The stretch is mind-numbing, the texture of his cock flawlessly stimulating every single trigger within you.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he slurs. His mouth falls open and you both moan in unison when he ruts into you. The door bangs against the wall when he does it again. He pins you there to keep it open before starting up a feverish rhythm, and soon the room fills with repetitive slaps and wanton sighs.

Your lips find the gnarled flesh of his neck and whimper against it, every thrust driving more and more pathetic sounds from your throat. Hancock groans deep in his chest and shakes his head. Fingers grip your hair to pull your face out of the crook of his neck.

“Not loud enough. Nobody down on the street is gonna hear how sweet you sound at this rate.”

You snort and meet his half-lidded gaze. “Isn’t it your job to make me scream though?”

A throaty chuckle greets your words, then, “That a challenge?” Even though it’s phrased like a question, you know he isn’t asking. Clumsily, he kicks off the pants pooled around his ankles and nearly drops you, which sends you both into a fit of laughter.

“Hang tight, we’ll get there,” he jokes as you carries you into his room and collapses onto a sofa. Your tittering is cut off when his lips find yours again. He rolls you into your back, tosses your legs over his shoulders, and gives one harsh thrust that forces a noisy keen up and out of you.

“That’s more like it,” he growls. His hands grip your hips to hold you in place so he can hammer you into the cushions. It’s not difficult to give him the screaming he wants.

A third climax blindsides you. You writhe and shake, seized by euphoria and Hancock’s embrace. He utters a pinched, “Fuck, fuck, fuck-“ before leaning back to rip his cock from your cunt. Through your daze, you barely register the wet clicking of his hand as he pumps his orgasm, warm and sticky, all over your belly.

Heavily, Hancock sighs and drops his forehead to your sternum to catch his breath. The heaving of his chest mirrors your own. You smooth your hands down his nape and gently rake your nails back up again, content to just bask in the afterglow.

Gradually, Hancock works his way over to your side so you can rest your head on his shoulder. He’s quiet for a long while and you open your mouth to tease him about it until he suddenly says, “I’ve been thinking for a long time about doing exactly what we just did.”

Curious and surprised, you lift your head to look into his black eyes. A little grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Really?” you ask. He nods, his fingers tracing up and down your arm. “How long?”

“Remember when you kissed me at the New Year’s party?” You blink in shock and chuff out an incredulous laugh.

“I almost forgot about that. That was, like—

“Eight months ago,” he finishes for you. Baffled, you stare at him and wonder why your heart is beating so fast.

“Why did you wait so long?” you question finally, a bewildered smile on your face.

“Dunno. Overthinking it, maybe. You seemed happy doing your own thing. I didn’t wanna fuck that up.” His chest rises and falls with a deep breath before he continues, “But then I saw you standing there tonight and I just…. You looked so beautiful with the rain and the light and…you know, the chems.” You giggle which makes him grin wider. “Just felt like it was the right moment, you know?”

You smile softly while Hancock groans and drags a hand down his face. “Sorry, doll, I guess that last hit turned me into a fuckin’ sap.”

“It’s sweet,” you murmur.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper with a nod. Gently, he strokes your cheek and pulls you in for another kiss. Your lips part to allow his tongue to swirl against yours while your palm smooths across his chest.

Suddenly, he breaks the kiss with a, “Fuck, I’m hard again.” You bark out a laugh and Hancock moves to sit up. “I should probably get that drink I promised.” You grab his arm to stop him.

“I don’t need it.” Your teeth tease your bottom lip. A wolfish smirk greets your words.

“Then I’m all yours, love.”

[iamthecomet]

𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚢 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚕

Rating: E Pairing: Rain/Swiss/Dewdrop Featuring: A semi-public blow job, Dew and Swiss ruining Rain's life, public bathroom shenanigans, cum swaping, cum eating, lots of kissing, lots of dick sucking. Rain losing his mind just a little. Word Count: around 2.5k.

“You did say you could take us both,” Dew says absently, taking stock of the bathroom. Rain can’t really focus on anything but them. On Swiss still invading his space–giving him just enough room to breathe. On Dew, meandering toward them slow, like he wants the distance to feel like miles when it’s only a few feet. 

“I can,” Rain says, a rushed whisper. Unsure even as he says it. Of course he can handle them both–he has a hundred times. Maybe not half drunk in a public bathroom but that doesn’t really matter. They are familiar–they are his. There is nothing different this time from a hundred other times. And he can take it–but he’s also pretty sure he’s going to walk out of here on shaky legs. 

𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝙰𝙾𝟹 𝙾𝚛 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚞𝚝

The bathroom isn’t bad, as far as bar bathrooms go. Rain gets a good look of clean porcelain and shiny stall doors all half open before his vision is filled with multi-ghoul instead. Swiss takes up all available space, grinning at him as he crowds up, invades Rain’s space. Swiss plants a warm hand in the center of his chest, and pushes him backwards until his shoulders hit the wall between the paper towel dispenser and the auto-dyer.

Rain swallows hard, looks up. Feels the rapid pulse in his own throat, anticipation. The slight thrill of being bullied around, manhandled. It makes him feel dizzy–or maybe that’s just from that last sugary drink Cumulus slid him. He leans his head back, closes his eyes, breathes deep.

He smells sandalwood, weed, and industrial cleaner. He can smell the whiskey on Swiss’ breath as he leans in, presses an open mouthed kiss to the skin beneath Rain’s ear. Rain sighs, leans deeper into it, bares his neck for the softness of Swiss’ mouth. There’s a noise–quiet–the door pushing open a crack. And then, in addition to Swiss, Rain smells a campfire, wet smoldering wood, cinnamon.

He opens his eyes when he hears the door close. He watches long, lithe, fingers flip the lock.

Dew’s on the other side of the room. Hair tie pinned between his teeth as he gathers his hair to twist it into the messiest bun Rain’s ever seen him do. The kind that will hurt to take out. Rain will have to listen to that later, he knows. Have to feel Dew’s little winces as he tries to comb through the knots. Some soft part of him can’t wait for it.

But he can’t dwell on that thought long, Swiss’ sharp teeth against his earlobe drag him away from it, back here. To the press of Swiss’ body against his and the way his cock fills out against his zipper.

Dew chuckles low as he appraises Swiss and Rain, rocking back on his heels. Admiring.

Rain drags his eyes back to Swiss, tilts his head a question he can’t voice. They planned this–ambushing him in the bathroom–this was a thing.

“What did you expect?” Swiss chides. He backs up a little, pulls his hand back just enough that only his fingers stay on Rain’s sternum. Five points of heat sinking into him.

“You did say you could take us both,” Dew says absently, taking stock of the bathroom. Rain can’t really focus on anything but them. On Swiss still invading his space–giving him just enough room to breathe. On Dew, meandering toward them slow, like he wants the distance to feel like miles when it’s only a few feet. “I can,” Rain says, a rushed whisper. Unsure even as he says it. Of course he can handle them both–he has a hundred times. Maybe not half drunk in a public bathroom but that doesn’t really matter. They are familiar–they are his. There is nothing different this time from a hundred other times. And he can take it–but he’s also pretty sure he’s going to walk out of here on shaky legs.

There’s a round of laughter–low chuckles that warm the pit of Rain’s stomach. And then Swiss falls to his knees. A graceful drop. The same way he does on stage. All strength and control as he sinks down. Rain’s stomach twists the same way it does when he watches him during a ritual. Coiling tight.

Dew slips closer, comes up on Rain’s side. Wraps an overwarm hand around Rain’s jaw. Thumb digging into his cheek as he pulls Rain down to him, catches him in a kiss that tastes like gin and cigarettes. Rain melts into it. Opens his mouth when Dew’s tongue prods at his lips and lets him in. Lets Dew sweep his tongue over his teeth as he kisses him deep and sloppy. Rain reaches out, finally peeling his hands away from the wall to grip the lapels of Dew’s jacket–to hold him there. Content to kiss him forever. Dew slips a hand around to the back of Rain’s skull–cradles him. Fingers tangling in his curls. Gentle despite the intensity of the kiss.

Rain’s wobbly. From the booze. From all of the blood in his body rushing south. From both of them–the heat, the urgency of their touches. From the way Dew holds him in place so he can kiss him the way he wants. Fingers drifting down to splay over his neck. To dig into the places where his gills would be if he wasn’t fully glamored. Fingers tracing over them from memory, sending shivers over Rain’s skin. He pulls Dew closer–which should be impossible but somehow the little ghoul finds space, fits himself right up against Rain so Rain can feel how chubby Dew has gotten in his jeans. Dew rolls his hips against Rain’s thigh to further illustrate the point.

Swiss is just as busy. Untucking Rain’s shirt, rucking it up so he can place open mouthed kisses over the spot where his jeans ride low. Teeth grazing over each prominent hipbone. One hand curled possessively around his hip–the other reaching for Rain’s zipper.

In other circumstances–Rain might resist. Might push back. Might stand up straight and boss them around and be mean the way he was playing at when he scoffed and said handling them both at the same time wasn’t even that interesting. But he finds he doesn’t want to.

He wants to let Dew kiss him breathless. Wants to be soft, and desperate, and taken apart for once. And even if he wanted to be aloof–he can’t be, is too far gone already.

Swiss’ calloused fingers brush over the soft skin above the waistband of his pants. The heat of them making him hiss, press forward. Swiss squeezes him there, over his hip. Feeling the soft swell of flesh there–the remnants of a long, relaxing winter.

Rain pulls away from Dew’s mouth, sucking air into burning lungs. Dew immediately latches onto his throat. Tongue pressing down over his hammering pulse point. Gliding over the places his gills should be. Clever teeth pinning delicate flesh between them and worrying it. Rain tips his head, exposing more long neck to Dew’s mouth.

Rain’s lost in it–in the sensation. Drifting on it so thoroughly he almost misses the moment Swiss unzips his pants. The rasp of the zipper brings him back to himself, eyes stuttering open to peer down at Swiss. To watch as he parts Rain’s jeans, tugs his briefs down, and whistles like he’s never seen Rain’s cock before.

“Worked up already, huh?” Swiss says, looking up at Rain eyes wide and filled with feigned innocence that part of Rain wants to gnash his teeth at. Instead, he swallows hard, mouth dry, and nods.

“Real pretty too,” Dew murmurs. He pulls the collar of Rain’s shirt away from his neck so he can latch onto his collarbone–a weak spot that makes Rain’s knees feel like they’ve suddenly filled with water.

Swiss dips his hand in, pets what little of Rain’s shaft he can see so far. That single point of heat makes Rain jolt. His head tips back, knocking hard against the tile wall. He’s met with twin chuckles. Dew’s breath is hot and wet against his neck.

“Don’t look away, Rainy. You don’t want to miss it.”

Rain does as he’s told, slitting his eyes open again, looking down at Swiss. Swiss pulls him out slowly, fingers curling gently at the spot just under the head. Cradling him like it’s something precious.

Swiss licks a bead of pre from the tip and hums. Swiss takes the head into his mouth and Rain watches his cock jump in Swiss’ grip, pulsing against his fingers, his tongue. Dew’s mouth has gone slack against Rain’s shoulder, his own gaze tilted down to watch, rapt.

“Take more of it,” Dew orders and Swiss scoffs.

“You gonna tell me how to suck dick now?”

“Yeah,” Dew says, all breath. “You look better when you take orders anyway.”

Swiss chuckles–doesn’t bite back. It’s weird, the way they’re working together against him, leaning into it. He expects them to be at each other's throats, compete. Instead Swiss takes more of his cock, hollows his cheeks, and Rain couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer if he tried.

His head cracks off the tile–hard. He doesn’t feel it. All he feels is the way Swiss swallows, the way he hums.

“See,” Dew says, “he likes it like that.”

Rain groans. He digs his fingers harder into Dew’s coat, wants to find a way to hold on, to burrow inside of him. Is this how everyone else feels when Rain talks about them like they’re not there? No wonder everyone else likes it so much. He shudders with it, or maybe that’s just because Swiss is reaching into his pants to pull out his balls,to roll impossibly soft skin in his palm, cradling him so gently even while he tries to suck him dry.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Dew chides, and Rain is about to assure Dew that no–he isn’t, when Dew slips away from him, down. Palm gliding down Rain’s side to rest at his hip as he kneels next to Swiss. Rain opens his eyes, looks down at them. Eyes already drooping, pupils blown wide making him look both half asleep and astounded.

He finds them kneeling shoulder to shoulder. Dew watching, head tilted, like he’s critiquing Swiss’ technique.

“Move over, let me show you how to do it.”

Dew doesn’t actually give Swiss a chance to move over–he just leans in as Swiss pulls back and licks a stripe up the side of Rain’s cock–chasing Swiss’ mouth with his own.

Swiss pulls off with a pop and Dew immediately takes his place, sucking the head into his mouth. Rain feels his knees turn to jelly. He leans hard on the wall, relying on it to keep him up. He can’t watch–he can’t look away. Especially not as Swiss descends too, lacing his fingers in Dew’s hair and pulling him back.

“Share with me?” Swiss whispers, voice raspy. Dew looks at him, heat smoldering in his eyes. Rain’s stomach swoops as Dew nods.

When they descend again, Rain watches as they make out around the head of his cock. Tongues pressing together over the slit of his cock, lapping up pre as their lips meet.

“Fuck.” Swiss chuckles low, he pulls back enough to talk. “You like when we share you, Rainy?”

Rain chokes, nods, he wants to answer–wants to say something, but the words get locked in his throat when Swiss descends again and his world narrows down to the heat of their mouths. To the little noises they both make, of the slick sound of their mouths meeting around his cock. Dew reaches up to roll Rain’s balls in his palm and Rain makes a wounded noise. Fists clenching at his sides.

The next thing he knows he has a hand on each of them. Fingers sinking into their hair. Thumbs dragging over their scalps. He moans, low, head tipping back, eyes falling closed no matter how badly he wants to keep watching.

“Gonna cum soon,” Ran rasps out. He’s never been a minute man but he finds himself suddenly reduced to one as they work him over.

“Already?” Dew whispers, breath hot over Rain’s shaft.

“Wish you could see yourselves,” Rain says in his own defense.

“If you let me have it off the tap, I’ll feed it to you,” Swiss whispers to Dew, bargaining. Rain whimpers, gut-punched, a low wounded noise at the very thought of it. He doesn’t know if he can take–knows they’ll make him anyway. Dew rolls his eyes, petulant, but he nods.

“Just don’t waste any.”

Rain just barely sees the look Swiss shoots toward Dew–the one that says as if I’d spill a drop. But then Swiss is sucking him down again, tongue dragging over the sensitive spot beneath the head. Cheeks hollowing. And Rain then can’t watch anymore, can’t think of anything except wet heat and suction.

There’s a warm hand on his balls–he doesn’t know whose. It doesn’t particularly matter. Because no sooner do those lithe fingers roll his balls between them does everything but pleasure disappear. He is nothing but the roll of it, a wave that takes him under. His head cracks hard against the bathroom wall. His knees shake–buckle. He holds himself up by sheer leverage of his weight against the wall. His feet slip on the floor and Dew and Swiss steady him, even as he starts to cum. Even as he spills over Swiss’ tongue.

It goes on forever–or at least it feels like it does. He is turned under by it, wave after wave until he’s spent and Swiss’ mouth is full.

Swiss pulls back with a grin, and Dew is already pulling him in, greedy. Mouth sealing over Swiss’ so he can drink Rain from Swiss’ tongue. Rain slits his eyes open in time to see the flash of Dew’s tongue slipping from his mouth to Swiss’, plundering.

It sends an aftershock through him. And without them to hold him he finds himself sliding down. Sitting gently on the floor, knees splayed, cock softening against his jeans, chest heaving. He’s at eye level when Dew pulls back and thumbs cum away from the corner of Swiss’ mouth and then sucking it into his own with a quiet, satisfied hum.

There is a moment where they all look at each other, a loaded breath.

Rain starts to laugh, just a little. Breathless and spent, he tips his head back, curls falling away from his face. And then, Swiss and Dew are laughing with him, shuffling back to sit next to him, their backs against the wall, knees drawn up.

“Holy fuck,” Rain breathes.

“Uh-huh,” Swiss agrees, pressing his palm down over the spot where his cock is tenting his jeans.

“Told you you couldn’t take us both,” Dew nudges Rain, eyes bright.

“Shut up.”

A knock at the door breaks them of their revelry. The handle rattles.

“Just a minute,” Swiss calls even as he’s working his own zipper open.

“We should–”Rain starts–thinking of courtesy–of the embarrassment when they all walk out of the room together and have to face whoever is out there desperate to get in.

“Fuck that,” Dew says, reaching over Rain’s body to curl his fingers around Swiss’ cock. Swiss hisses, eyes slipping closed as Dew starts to stroke. He turns his face to Rain’s, his grin wide and devious in the fluorescent light. “They can wait.”

[dazed-and-confused23]

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 11

Summary: You come down with a bad case of some type of sickness. You feel like death, but Cooper has always thought that the common cold made people dramatic.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings: none really? Fluff and kissing.

Masterlist

Cooper sighs quietly when he hears you sneeze for the upteenth time today. A rare storm had blown in a couple of days ago, and the two of you, plus Dusty, had gotten trapped in the pouring rain. The deathclaw, now eye level with you, had loved the water dripping down his hot scales, and even Cooper had tilted his face up toward the dark clouds. But you? You hated the rain and have been miserable ever since the storm.

"Coop. We gotta stop somewhere," you say, and even the ghoul has to admit that you do sounds like shit. He comes to a stop, and you stumble into him, having not been paying attention. Dusty makes some concerned grunts, but Cooper waves the beast away with a roll of his eyes.

"Baby girl, we still have three more miles 'fore we reach Goodsprings. We can rest when we get there," Cooper told her and curled an arm around your waist, casting his eyes away from the furious pout you sent him.

You sigh loudly, and the harsh breath sends you into a coughing fit when it tickles your throat. Cooper rubs your back as you hack and spit up some nasty mucas, a low groan escaping you as your body aches from whatever sickness that's taken hold of you.

The next three miles feel like hell, but the ghoul gets you to Goodsprings before you pass out in the desert. Dusty takes off to go hunt, and the two of you end up cooped up in one of the old houses on the edge of town. You shiver and clutch the thin blanket closer to your body, shaking from the chill that won't leave your bones.

Cooper eyes you, hip cocked, "Do you really feel that bad, Sugar?"

You glare at him from the middle of your blanket cocoon, "I feel like I'm dying."

He scoffs at you and closes the distance between the two of you and shrugs out of his ratty duster before he plops on the couch beside you. Cooper opens his arms and waits for you to scramble into them, his chin resting on top of your head and his arms curling tight around your blanket cocoon.

"Poor, pitiful girl," Cooper coos, and you pout at the teasing tone in his voice. It wasn't your fault that the ghoul couldn't get sick, and you could.

Over the next couple of days, Cooper does his best to take care of his poor trader. You moan and groan, a big achy mess, but you always make sure to tell your ghoul how much you appreciate him taking care of you.

"You're the best nurse ever, Coop," you rasp when he hands you a bottle of cooled purified water. The ghoul rolls his eyes at his sickly smoothskin and runs his fingers through your hair.

"Only for you, Darlin'," Cooper drawls and leans down to kiss you softly. You were a handful, but you were his handful.

[miss-multi45]

OK hear me out, I had an idea : what if reader presented herself as innocent, nice, you know like big doe eyes and all. So the ghouls assume she is a poor innocent lamb in need of protection. UNTIL one day, some guy just takes it too far with her and just as the ghouls are about to jump in to protect her, she becomes ABSOLUTELY FERAL and maims the guy.

How would the ghouls react, do you think ?

P.S : I love all your writings <3

gonna go with the idea that reader's a ghoulette in this. thank you for the ask, sweetheart.

a/n: cw/tw: gore and mentions of sexual stuff

A noise between a trill and a growl comes from the ghoul's throat when the guy starts making comments about how he'd like to see you in pretty white lace lingerie, but before creep could touch you, his blood had painted your body like the lingerie in his imagination...

swiss

fanboying.

screams "OH FUCK YES GIRL!"

and parades about the ministry with you in his arms bridal style meanwhile there is still blood on your body.

he doesn't care less about the blood, he's a fucking ghoul.

he just wants to brag about you to the entire ministry.

sodo

raises his eyebrows in slight shock, but then walks towards you with his hand raised for a high five.

tail is wagging, and he gives you head scritchies which makes you purr and nuzzle against him.

disposes of the body which means the ghouls and ghoulettes ate the dead body.

what? sometimes they eat people..

rain

slightly shocked by the sudden blood spray, but then he just shakes himself off like a cat and drags you away from the scene to craft an alibi.

sticks with leaving the guy outside to rot while he makes hot chocolate for the ghouls and they all watch Rite Here Rite Now in the ghoul den.

phantom

he got angry when the guy started making comments about your boobs, like really angry, asking if they were warm and squishy.

how dare he, phantom, the ghouls, and the ghoulettes were the only ones allowed to know that and see your plush boobies (lol) in all their glory.

so he wasn't at all upset when you clawed the incel's neck open with those dazzling claws of yours, watching as he slumped onto the floor with a sea of blood gushing out.

you kissed over his dead body.

mountain

anyone who doesn't respect the lovely ladies of the ministry and the entire universe is automatically on mountain's kill list.

happy when you killed the shithead and growled at his dead body, that's his girl.

cleaned you up while you were swinging your legs and gave him smoochies.

aether

was standing behind the fuckface ready to take him out when you beat him to it.

leaned over his body, examining the injuries.

"good punch." he said before walking away with your bloodied hand in his.

omega

watching from a distance, leaning forward on a bench with his hands clasped together.

he was growling under his breath, his eyes flashing with bloodlust whenever the man smirked suggestively at his pretty little ghoulette.

proud when you tore him to shreds yourself, like yes queen girliepop we love to see it.

aurora taught him that slang

alpha

we all know he's teasing, smug and possessive.

which means he's walking towards you, and when he reaches you he grips your hip with one hand and your waist with the other.

chuckles when you swing at the guy, resulting in blood spraying all over you and alpha, but alpha didn't give two shits about the blood. he was just proud of his girl.

ifrit

the guy's digging himself a grave, teasing a cute and innocent ghoulette like you when he didn't know you had a big, bad, and sexy ghoul mate waiting to sink his teeth into his neck.

he was incredibly flabbergasted when you dealt with it yourself, and walked over to your with his hands slightly raised in disbelief.

gives you the most amazing head that night as a reward for your good work.

aurora

she was sat on a bench, sipping her strawberry boba while holding your blueberry boba in her other hand.

she had just gotten her claws done with you, as you were having a girls day out.

screams "THAT'S MY FUCKING GIRL SLAY THAT MAN QUEEN!" when you kill the dude bothering a clearly lesbian ghoulette.

cirrus

leaning against a wall when she saw the bland concrete being splattered with ruby red blood and thought something had happened to you.

but no, it was just her pretty little pillow princess tearing a man to shreds for making inappropriate comments and gestures to her.

walks over and kicks the dead guy, then swings you over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes back to the ministry.

cumulus

what the fuck??

she left you for two seconds, TWO seconds, and a guy was already trying to get in your pants?

satan on a fucking enchilada, human men were annoying.

but all that irritation was killed at the same time he was, and she just stood there in a proud girlfriend stance.

mist

UGH, this is why the only men mist hangs out with are the ghouls, brothers of sin, and the papas.

has a visible expression of disgust on her face when the fuckhead starts talking about how he thinks that women were made to serve their husbands, and you had the same expression as her.

so you quickly shut him up with claws to the chest which cut through his heart in no time, prancing over to your girlfriend and giving her an innocent peck on the cheek.

[dewsgremlin]

The siblings of sin avoid the ghouls as much as possible.

The clergy doesn't like it when the ghouls attack humans, but it does happen from time to time. (And to be honest - nobody cares if a sister of sin is missing...)

That's why it's common for the siblings to always have a spray bottle of holy water with them. As hellish creatures, the ghouls do not like anything blessed. The holy water burns on their skin like hell.

To keep Dewdrop or Swiss at a distance, the siblings of sin sometimes have to spray an entire bottle empty. Aether, Cumulus or Mountain keep their distance on their own, but they are so polite that the siblings don't see them as a threat anyway.

Rain is normally not a threat but he is really, REALLY curious about human things and and therefore sometimes tries to get a little closer. If he gets a little too close, the siblings scare him away with clapping or loud noises.

This only works badly if Dewdrop is nearby and hears his beloved water ghoul being scared away by the noise. Then the siblings of sin definitely need more than one bottle of holy water to save themselves...

[farter-imperator]

Since I'm now the self appointed CEO of pregnant ghouls...

The band coming back from tour. Aether and Sunny stayed behind, having to deal with the Ministry taxes.

The band ghouls get off the bus in front of the Ministry, where Aether and Sunny are waiting for them.

From a distance, Aether looks very well fed. But, as the pack get closer and closer, they realise it's something else entirely.

Aether's standing there, one hand on his rounded belly, one hand on his back. And he smells of a mix of milk and baby powder.

Swiss goes to tackle hug him, but gets held back by Cirrus. Cumulus and Aurora move closer and coo over the bump sweetly. Dew's just in shocked silence. He needs to process this alone, with just him and Aether.

Rain offers a soft "Congratulations!" but stays back, he's not been around many pregnant ghouls and it makes him a little uncomfortable. Mountain leans down and kisses Aether's head, then whispers a quiet blessing in Ghoulish. Phantom's never seen a pregnant Ghoul before, he thinks Aether just has a beer belly.

When they're alone, back in Dew's room, Aether and Dew cuddle in silence for a long time while Dew works it over in his head. He is excited, he just needs to process it first.

Finally, Dew asks the question. "How many are in there, then?"

"Two, love."

"Oh... I thought quints had big litters..."

"They do. Two's the average size for a fire ghoul litter, though."

And Dew's head snaps up.

[forlorn-crows]

may i request a ficlet or a headcanon on how mountain and rain fell in love?

anon, i need you to know i SQUEALED so loud when you first sent me this. i love these boys so MUCH, and im so happy you asked about them. consequently, i have written you an entire fic fhghdhjf. happy mountain monday!

tagging @divine-misfortune for giving me ideas for this, including the title

𝑩𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑴𝒚 𝑭𝒐𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕

Rating: Teen

Relationship(s): Mountain/Rain, Mountain & Dewdrop, Mountain/Zephyr (mentioned)

Tags: fluff, romantic fluff, first kiss, falling in love, pre-relationship. mentions of past relationships & now turbulent ones. they're just so cute okay :((

Words: 2,648

It happens quickly, like a rushing river thrusting debris together after a storm. Leaves and shorn-off buds tangling with algae before coming to rest at a rocky bend in the stream. The current carries them towards each other—part chance, part fate, part cruel circumstance. Gentle in the way it allows them to float on the surface, but persistent in the way it doesn’t let up until they ultimately intertwine.  In that way, Mountain can’t help the way he’s been drawn to Rain.

read the rest under the cut, or on AO3!

It happens quickly, like a rushing river thrusting debris together after a storm. Leaves and shorn-off buds tangling with algae before coming to rest at a rocky bend in the stream. The current carries them towards each other—part chance, part fate, part cruel circumstance. Gentle in the way it allows them to float on the surface, but persistent in the way it doesn’t let up until they ultimately intertwine. 

In that way, Mountain can’t help the way he’s been drawn to Rain. In a whirlwind of summonings, the water ghoul stayed unfazed from the beginning: cool, collected. The ease with which he took to their routine and their lives gained all of Mountain’s admiration. He was the fresh scent of petrichor after months of brimstone and burnt skin. 

Dew was . . . well, Dew was different now, and more connected to Aether than ever. None of them could help the fact they all mourned his water in different ways. It was what it was—and that made it easy for Mountain to let the new water ghoul in while he temporarily loved the old one from a distance. 

Melancholy, perhaps. Thankfully, now, it’s becoming easier to figure it all out, even amongst the chaotic shuffle of ghouls, instruments, and authority. They’ve had a few moments, some good, some bad. Mountain’s accepted, after many weeks of unbridled anger, stubbornness, and isolation, that it simply will take time.

And woven into the healing and the mess of it all is that bright cerulean lure, flashing over and over. 

It doesn’t help, of course, that Rain is gorgeous. Lithe and sharp, siren-like in the way he involuntarily commands Mountain’s attention. But more than that; it’s the way he lets mistakes roll off of him in rivulets. The way he walks around like he’s been there a thousand years, but never in a cocky way—more like he finds comfort in everything and everyone with an ease that only adds to his elegance. 

It’s the way he bounds over to Mountain while he’s working outside the greenhouse to ask if he needs help instead of breezing by on his way to the lake. Always offering for the earth ghoul to join him (Mountain’s scared shitless of making a fool of himself being alone with him, so he never does). 

And, it’s the way that Rain really, really listens to him. Eyes soft and kind, always cocking his head in genuine interest when he speaks. How he doesn’t let anyone pull him away for some heated rendezvous or grab him for another practice session when they’re deep in conversation.

Slowly but surely, he’s gotten to know the water ghoul. Little smiles exchanged while he watches Dew teach Rain the bass. Sharing favorite foods, like orange blossom infused honey to drizzle over Rain’s toast at breakfast. Neutral compliments that turn into lengthy conversations at the end of their rhythm section sectionals (where Mountain doesn’t miss the amused, knowing shake of Aether’s head as he exits the practice room, leaving them to it). Jokes shared over dish duty at the end of the night, long walks around the abbey and its grounds where their shoulders brush and Rain’s face lights up like the most lustrous sapphire. 

The earth ghoul just can’t seem to have enough of him—of his genuineness. His openness to learning new things while always being honest about who he is and what he needs. 

What he wants, though? Who he wants? Well, Mountain is a little blind to that. 

He, however, is not blind to his own wants. 

Wants that flutter to life in his belly when he walks in on Rain in the baths one afternoon. Mountain can’t help that he blushes something fierce, steps stuttering as he contemplates continuing or fleeing. There’s no need to say sorry, at least; it’s not an intrusion to walk in on another ghoul in their shared bath house. But that doesn’t stop Mountain from feeling like it is, with the way he’s alone, poised somehow perfectly in the patch of setting sun streaming in through the skylights. Running fingers through raven-black hair as he massages his shampoo into his scalp.

It’s not the first time he’s seen him naked before. They’ve been to the lake together a handful of times, where Rain has thus far preferred to be bare as the day he was summoned. But at this moment? He almost seems more . . . real. More ethereal and mesmerizing. Even from a few yards away he can see the faint markings scattered across his shoulders and back, almost white in the dimming light, popping against his blue-toned skin. The fins along his ears glow close to orange as the scattered beams of sunlight shine through the thin skin. 

Mountain could admire him for hours. Trace up and down the fins on his spine, map out his spots like constellations. Watch his gills fluff and flutter. He wants very badly for Rain to let him. 

One day.

Eventually, the water ghoul notices his guest, looking over his shoulder as he squeezes on the ends of his hair. His cerulean eyes crinkle up at the corners when he notices Mountain staring (gawking, really), and the earth ghoul is nearly brought to his knees right there. 

“Hi, Mountain,” he says smoothly. Underneath the water, his finned tail swishes. 

“Uh,” Mountain clears his throat, “ . . . hi.” It’s so small and hesitant and he wants to kick himself. Any shred of nonchalance leaving his body the moment Rain puts his eyes on him.

The water ghoul just smiles, tipping his head towards the water in front of him. “Come join me.” His voice is sweet and melodic as it echoes against the high ceilings and mixes with the soft bubbling sound of circulating water. Every part of him a siren’s call.

Something akin to bashfulness creeps up his spine, face going hot at the thought of disrobing entirely in front of a creature so, so much more gorgeous than he. While he’s seen Rain naked before, Rain’s never seen him naked, and though he has no qualms about being naked in front of kin (he’s learned the hard way about human ideals of decency), something about it being the first time the water ghoul will see more than just his chest and calves has his heart fluttering like a mortal teenager in a romcom. 

“Sure. Thanks.” Lords below, have mercy. He strips quickly before he can think about backing out, dropping his clothes into a haphazard bundle on one of the benches. 

“No soap?” Rain observes his lack of toiletries as he places his towel at the bath’s edge. 

“Oh. No; was coming more for a soak,” Mountain explains, slipping into the water. He can feel the heat radiating from the tiles underneath his feet, a soothing temperature that instantly eases the tension in his tired muscles. He trills contently. 

The water ghoul makes a thoughtful noise as he tips his head back for a rinse. Mountain watches the ridge of his throat stand out against his neck as it bends, the gills on either side fanning out slightly as the skin around them pulls taught. Before his gaze can wander past the beginning of his sternum and take in the way his chest tips towards the ceiling, though, Rain straightens back up, hair now slicked back against his scalp. 

“Well, you’re welcome to use mine. If you change your mind.” The fins on his ears twitch and shake off the residual water droplets, sending some flying towards Mountain’s face. 

“He-ey,” he accuses, squinting one eye and blinking the other rapidly. “I think there was some shampoo in that one.” 

Rain grins, sharp double fangs on full mischievous display. “Oops. Guess you’ll have to rinse it off.”

Mountain sighs and rubs at his cheek with the back of his hand, head shaking slightly. He takes an over-exaggerated breath, holding it all in his cheeks and raising his eyebrows at the water ghoul before sinking beneath the water, submerging completely. For as dense as his hair is, it thankfully wets easily, and he’s pushing back up to full height—now fully drenched—after only a few seconds. 

Rain’s laugh reverberates around him, pretty and delighted. Mountain knows it’s because of the hair in his eyes, most likely transforming his appearance closer to that of an unkempt highland cow than a slightly disheveled earth ghoul. Mountain chuckles in response, shaking off like a dog. 

“You asked for this,” he says as their laughter dies down. He’s about to raise his hands to his face and push back the wet strands, but instead, Rain’s there suddenly, brushing the hair off his forehead with soft, cool hands and thumbing the water away from his eyes. Mountain’s breath catches in his chest, heart beating very fast as Rain’s hands pause to linger on his cheeks. 

They’ve never been this close—such a distinct lack of distance that Mountain can feel the breath from Rain’s nose fanning over his slightly parted lips. It’s been difficult enough in the moments Rain bumps against him in the hall or when their hands brush when passing plates at dinner. Touch that lingers for hours afterwards. Now he’s within the circle of the water ghoul’s arms with nothing but bath water between them, and Belial, he might not survive the next few minutes. 

“H-hi,” he whispers. Anything to not break this spell, despite the urge he has to slip from his hands and drown himself in embarrassment. 

“Hi,” Rain smiles. His eyes dart down to Mountain’s nose, back up again, then down to his lips. And his gaze stays there as he tilts his head to the side and asks, so blatantly: “Will you kiss me?”

Mountain nods so fast he thinks his brain rattles in his skull. 

Rain laughs again, and Mountain’s heart swells with something he dare not yet name. 

“C’mere, then.” And Rain is pulling him in, shifting his hands to hold against the nape of his neck, thumbs at the hinge of his jaw. Mountain can’t help the noise that escapes him when their lips connect, Rain’s so soft and cool it makes him ache. It takes all his willpower not to slot their bodies together when he places his hands on the water ghoul’s waist. He’s so smooth, skin almost taking on a stingray-like texture from the water and stray soap residue. 

The kiss is brief, chaste, but not without movement. Lips meeting, parting, then meeting again with softened breaths shared by their noses. A flurry of excitement runs through him when Rain smiles against his mouth; a juvenile feeling, but one that warms his entire chest. One that he has to have a tight hold on, lest he get too excited.

When Rain turns his head, rubbing their noses together, Mountain huffs against his lips as another kaleidoscope of butterflies fills his belly. But he pulls away after that, their mouths separating with a soft sound. All at once he becomes frozen, eyes still closed—almost like he’s drifting through space, memorizing the feeling of Rain’s lips moving against his.

Rain laughs breathily. “You still with me?”

Mountain bites his lip, eyebrows quirking up in the middle. His hands are still sliding against the water ghoul’s skin. Just feeling. The smoothness of his skin only makes him want to touch him more. 

“Uh-huh.” Mountain can hear himself how distant he sounds, how terribly infatuated he is just from one kiss. It brings him back to those early days with Zephyr: how cautious and reserved he was around the elegant air ghoul when they gave him attention. How they managed to pull something genuine and warm out of him over those first few months. How Mountain’s world changed the moment Zephyr pulled him down to their height and pressed their lips to his. 

And maybe that’s what it was about Rain that hooked Mountain from the start. That similar brand of ease and elegance, the nonjudgemental willingness to help him through his stubborn, thick head and realize yes, this ghoul wanted him. Where Zephyr helped him gain confidence to live a life topside, Rain has helped him rejuvenate that life and give him purpose again. 

Hard not to fall (over and over again) for a ghoul like that. 

After probably too long of a pause, Mountain opens his eyes. Rain’s smiling at him, blue eyes sparkling. Everything about him outshines anything else in his view, and he just has to return the smile. Mountain rubs his thumbs over his hip bones, sharp but smooth, so pleasing to touch that he just wants to touch him over and over. Rain scoots millimeters closer and hums thoughtfully.

“Well?” He’s still holding his face between his hands. He moves them from Mountain’s jaw and slides them down his neck and over his shoulders, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.

Mountain gasps softly. Grips Rain’s hips a little tighter as he watches the water ghoul lick his lips. He doesn’t answer his question, because all he wants to do is pull Rain right back in. 

“Will you kiss me again?” It’s easy to ask—easy to want more from him, want to give him more. He could sink into this warmth between them and happily never come out.

“You don’t have to ask,” Rain smiles, already closing the gap between their mouths—and now their bodies—again. This time, he lets himself touch, really touch. Arms circling his waist, snaking between his shoulder blades, hands running softly along his fins and moving upwards to tangle in his hair. It would be too easy to completely let go, lose himself in it all and let Rain devour him right here in the bath. Open up for him and let him take all of him. But he doesn’t want to get too far, too carried away. Not here. Not now. 

Not yet. 

Rain works his hands over the planes of his chest, his stomach, lingering just on the edge of politeness as he familiarizes himself with Mountain’s little tufts of fur. Skilled, thin fingers twist and pet at the mousy brown strands dusting his chest, his stomach. Still kissing chastely, but not without intention or desire. 

Tiny wings flutter faster in Mountain’s stomach, swooping high and low in their wild flight. Pushing little sounds out of his throat as Rain huffs softly against his lips. It’s too easy to let him hear those sounds—illustrating how much he wants him, letting him hear all the ways he makes him feel just at the slightest of touches. 

Rain pulls away, and Mountain dizzily follows. Chasing kiss-puffed lips and the sweet taste of laughter breathed between them. But the water ghoul slips from his grasp with ease, wading away from him.

“Wait, but . . .” Mountain doesn’t actually know what to say. His lips and body buzz where Rain last touched, nerves alight. 

Rain just shakes his head and smiles. “Plenty more where that came from, Mount.” He pulls himself out of the bath, and Mountain swears he bends over purposefully just to make him look. Rain runs a towel over his body and squeezes the bulk of the water from his hair. Then he tosses the towel in the bin in favor of a soft waffle-knit robe, sighing happily as he slips it on. 

Before Mountain can say anything else, Rain’s scooping up his soaps and shuffling out of the bathhouse in a pair of garishly blue rubber sandals (completely in contrast to the muted stone-gray of his robe, but Mountain supposes those kinds of shoes don’t come in sophisticated colors). The smile stays on his face even as he rounds the corner. 

Leaving Mountain alone, tingling everywhere. 

“Belial, help me . . .” he mutters into the empty room. He sinks down, nose deep into the water and equally as deep into those lingering, fluttery feelings. 

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

So, in addition to a preview of the Norm one-shot, I've got this look at part one of a long-form two-shot that's been sitting in my drafts since I was about halfway through my first run of the show. I have a (now quite old) ask that fit the vibe of it perfectly, and I've been whittling away at it when the inspiration strikes. I still have quite a bit of work to do on it, including edits, as I'm predicting a final length between 13k-15k words. Could end up more, as I'm really terrible at this sort of estimation, but I wanted to let everyone know I'm still hard at work in the smut mines even if posts have been light lately. Please enjoy a preview from this upcoming Cooper Howard/The Ghoul piece:

Faim Pour Deux

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Warnings: smut (18+), angst, drug use, jealousy, mild violence, age gap, sexually rusty old men, amateurish strip teases, nipple play, fingering, dry humping, reader not-so-subtly trying to tempt Cooper to fuck her until he snaps.

"Why don't you get a little more comfortable, darlin'?" Cooper asked, his tone brighter now, a step closer to the normal, cocky timbre you'd known him to have, but still soft as the patter of the rain on the dilapidated roof as he gestured to your unzipped vault suit. "Hop up and take that off for me."

You didn't hesitate to follow his instructions, though you struggled to figure out how to back up off of his lap as your feet dangled off the floor. Cooper offered no assistance, sitting back to watch you slide yourself backwards towards his knees, your cleavage spilling out of your undershirt as you pushed yourself with your hands. Once you found your feet, cheeks already hot from your fumbling dismount, you toed out of your boots before clearing your throat, hands coming up to your navel to grab at the cool metal zipper where it hung, half-undone.

"Take a couple steps back so I can see all of you."

This command took you somewhat by surprise, but, again, you obeyed, double checking the floor behind you before taking two steps back, avoiding his eyes. Rethinking your approach, you grabbed your left sleeve by the wrist in your right hand, tugging it awkwardly to free your arm, jerking the tight material down over your sore bicep in a rather unsexy move before twisting to repeat the move on the right.

Twilight was quickly turning to night, and the few chem lamps you'd set up only provided enough light to see well a few feet in front of you. Shyly, you stole a quick glance his way, struggling to make out any details at this distance, save for the shape and slight glint of his flask as he lifted it to his mouth and took a long draw off of it. His entire upper body was almost completely shrouded in the deepening shadows, but you could see those eyes, sunken deep into that face, glittering darkly at you, trained on you.

"Slowly, now." came that rough voice once more, slightly muffled by the back of his hand passing over what remained of his lips. "Gimme a little show."

You felt your face instantly flame up twice as hot as it had been, your already fluttering heart shifting up another gear into a full-on thunder. You had no idea what he meant—undressing itself wasn't enough of a show? Were you supposed to sing and dance while you did it? Recite US Presidents?

A handful of heartbeats passed, and you realized you were hesitating, but the ghoul in the corner didn't say anything. Your focus shifted, warily, back to removing your remaining sleeve, choosing to work it down from the shoulder instead, this time, focusing on the "slowly" until you could figure out the "show" part. After a few moments, you'd worked the top half of the grimy vault suit down to your hips, letting the arms hang loose at your sides.

If Cooper objected to the way you were going about things, he kept quiet about it, which would be uncharacteristic. He sat, still staring at you, reclined back in the chair as he reached for something else on the table beside him. The familiar sound of a shaking Jet container filled the air as you grabbed the stained, barely-mended tank by the hem, peeling it over you head, leaving you in nothing but your now sad, ratty bra above the waist. The hiss of the canister buzzed down your spine as the material passed over your eyes, giving you goosebumps as you looked to him once more, feeling drawn to that gaze. Your hands moved back to your waist to push the garment the rest of the way down, brushing across your soft abdomen on the way.

The ghoul interrupted you, wordless, his mouth fixed in a sort of pucker as he held the hit of Jet deep in his lungs. He snapped quickly, sharply, his free hand raising up off of the scuffed chair arm, his sewn-on index finger pointed to the ceiling, drawing a series of tight, quick circles with it. You'd seen that gesture before, you realized, feeling that squirming feeling in your gut again. Quickly, you turned to face the door, your back now pointing at your companion.

The feeling of his intense stare still burned into your back, but knowing that, at least for a moment, he couldn't see your face, couldn't read every single thought and emotion off of your like he seemed to so often be able to, let you breathe slightly easier. The arousal that simmered between your thighs was rolling into a boil as you pushed your rear out, back towards him, bending forward ever-so-slightly at the waist as you slowly, slowly rolled the increasingly restricting suit down over your buttocks.

You could swear you heard him sigh in the dark.

Shimmying until the entire garment hit the floor, pooling around your ankles in a faint cloud of dust, you stepped out of it as delicately as possible, sliding it beside your bag with your foot. As you straightened back to your full height, you decided to turn and face him, making eye contact as he took another hit from the inhaler, setting it aside as he leaned back fully into the chair. He tilted his head sideways at you, studying you for a few quiet seconds.

"Let your hair down." he said, voice strained with exhalation.

It took a moment to wrestle your hair down from the old elastic that kept it out of your face, but when the tendrils tickled down your back at last, it made you shiver, your body tingling.

The old man was silent for several seconds, looking you up and down with an expression that was tough to decipher. You'd almost begun to worry that he didn't like what he was seeing before one of his hands snaked down from the arm rest into his lap, palming at his crotch visibly. The other hand extended towards you, that deadly trigger finger crooking towards you commandingly, his gaze never leaving you.

"C'mere, kiddo."

[dewinabsentia]

fuck it. gives the ghouls familiars

─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ───

mountain - european hedgehog. hangs out in the garden and stays in the greenhouse during winter. mountain gives them broken pots as shelters outside.

─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ───

phantom - common raven. but a baby that’s annoying and thinks he’s their mom. eventually will be really, really smart. but for now they just yell at phantom for food. (adult raven and scrappy juvenile raven for reference)

─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ──���

swiss - wolverine. they like to play wrestle and bite (shhh familiars can’t carry rabies). swiss fully cuddles them like a stuffed animal.

─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ───

dew - serval. nuzzles and purrs but will smack and hiss if you look at them wrong. aloof. dew and his serval kinda have a love hate relationship.

─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ───

rain - osprey. i know you expect some sort of aquatic animal but listen. i wanted something that could come and go, watch over rain from a distance, and also sit on his shoulder. ospreys are cool as fuck. they’re also always found around bodies of water.

─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ───

aether - brown hare. if a horse were a rabbit. this guy has been alive for millennia and has seen so many horrors through their bond with aether. look at their eyes.

─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ───

aurora - least weasel. cutest, littlest guy ever but will fuck you up before you can even see them move. steals trinkets and brings them back to aurora.

─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ───

cumulus - chinchilla. considered the softest animal in the world. cuddles in cumulus’ hair. no thoughts head empty, only snack and sleep.

─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ───

cirrus - tasmanian devil. this is her violent baby and she’d tear the ministry apart if anything happened to them.

─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ───

sunshine - rosy face lovebird. sits on her or on any surface near her all day. they chitter back and forth nonstop.

[skele-bunny]

Braids. (No CW) Everyone/Everyone

CW: NONE, Minor nsfw at end.

Characters: Dewdrop, Swiss, Rain, Mountain, Phantom.

So one of @divine-misfortune 's anons inspired me to write some Swiss grooming! Reminded me of when I used to do my ex's hair. It's extremely comforting!

Read it under the cut or on AO3!

The smell of jojoba oil and soapy water filled the common room, making Phantom peek his head out from his room, yawning from his nap. The bat crept forwards, tilting his head as he seen Dew and Rain on the couch together - Swiss between Rain's legs, and Mountain on his left also on the floor. 

Purrs were shared with the TV adding a comforting background noise, some family game show that Rain always adored watching. 

“Hey!” Phantom called out, getting the four to look back and smile wide. 

“Mornin’ bug.” Swiss called out first, not moving his head anymore after Mountain turned him back.

“What are you doing?” 

Dew shrugged, picking up a spray bottle and shaking it, spraying it through Swiss' scalp. “We're redoing Swiss’ braids.”

“Oh! I know how to braid!” Phantom trilled, quickly going around the couch to join. “Cumulus showed me how!”

Swiss laughed, “That's adorable, bug. But they're doing specific braids. It's for my hair type, not like the silk one you guys do.”

“There's a difference?” 

“Mmhm.” Swiss leaned his head back as Rain began to slowly section his hair with a comb. “You can watch if you'd like.”

Keeping his eyes on his pack mate's, Phantom’s tail began to wag as Dew lit his hands up, carefully drying his hair - keeping his hands at a comfortable distance so he didn't set Swiss’ hair on fire… Like the first time he did Swiss' braids, but Phantom didn't need to know that. Rain pressed his fingers down, sectioning more and more on Mountain's side before getting to his own, then finally Dew's once he was finished. He brought out a small thing of pins, pushing down the tight curls to stay still as they waited for their turn to be braided. 

Mountain had started, using his claws to gently spread into three, starting near his scalp and slowly pulling back. The action made Swiss sigh, his tail curling then releasing as he got comfortable as more nails began to touch his scalp. After a moment of silence, Swiss peaked his eye open at Phantom, smiling as the newly summon watched with bright curiosity.

“Do you wanna try one?” He asked.

It took the Quint to realize he was being talked to but nodded with such bright joy. Dew patted his leg which Phantom quickly sat on, letting his mate guide him through sectioning the hair.

“There you go… Now, keep it center, bring the right under… Now left.” Dew mumbled against Phantom's shoulder, keeping a close eye on his work. “Make sure you stitch it into the scalp… There you go, you got it. Now, keep it flat. Swiss wants his flat, but usually, you'd add other sections into your stitch.” 

Phantom nodded, listening and keeping a close eye on what he was doing, following Dewdrop's advice and words. As he got off Swiss’ neck, Phantom fell into a comfortable rhythm as he kept pulling down before taking a hair tie Dew offered, closing off the braid. 

“Look at you, bat! Hell of a job for your first time.” Dew praised, patting Phantom's side as he slid off on the floor again.

Touching the new braid, Swiss pulled it forwards and smiled. “Damn! That's what I'm talking about!” He offered his hand, laughing as Phantom high-fived him back. “Now you can Dew’s poor fingers a break.”

Laughter joined the circle before the fire ghoul went back to braiding, Swiss patting his lap for Phantom now - not minding as he hopped around for more affection from his pack. His own hair was played with, head tilted to watch the show - a man looking astonished at an answer a contestant gave. It was about half an hour when Mountain stood up, kissing Swiss’ cheek as he went to make lunch, leaving his section clipped. Then more time, and Mountain came back with plates stacked professionally on his arm, giving one to each mate before they sat silently for a break.

“We asked a hundred married men, what is something that you do for your wife that you hate?”

“Braid their fuckin’ hair.” Dew teased, lightly nudging Swiss with his foot.

“Yeah, yeah! You know you love it.”

The pack leader tilted his head, going back to his side salad. “Have you thought about changing it up?"

“Sometimes. I think having them in cornrows is more comfortable for the helmets, really. But I've been wanting to do butterfly braids for a bit.”

“That sounds pretty.” Mountain chimed in, his own plate finished and now just rubbing his wrists. 

Phantom nuzzled under the Multi’s chin, kneading on his chest as he got comfortable again. “What are butterfly braids?”

“Just another way to do my hair.”

The quint let out a small ‘oh!’ and nodded, eventually feeling Swiss sit up a bit more as Rain went back to braiding his few sections. It took a few hours before it was finished, Swiss standing up off his pillow once Phantom moved and stretched his back, rolling his neck to pop. He grabbed his scarf, grabbing some of the bobby pins, quickly covering his hair after shaking them out and giving one last spray of the conditioner water.

“Thank you, lovelies!” Swiss cooed, kissing each mate with a smile. 

As he finished with Mountain, the earth ghoul tugged on his shirt. “I wanna use one of my rewards.”

“Haha, yeah?”

“Rewards?” Phantom tilted his head again. 

Mountain settled himself on the couch as Swiss got to his knees again, speaking over his shoulder as he began to undo Mountain's belt. “I pay them back for doing my hair by offering them blowjobs whenever they want for an entire week and me doing a day of their chores. Works out pretty good!” 

The Quintessence Ghoul's face quickly became a deep purple as he watched before scrambling up to grab the plates, walking into the kitchen to the sound of Dewdrop's laughter at his embarrassment.

[thehypnone]

Could i please request some humiliating piss fic about raindrop?🫶

combined these three because I can

Dewdrop is in deep shit.

He wouldn’t say he bratted too close to the sun this time, but rather chose a bad moment to be a whiny, needy bitch. Most of the time it would get him the exact action he craved, but this time—unfortunately for him—Rain was not in the mood.

Hence the fire ghoul’s current predicament.

“Fucking–take it,” Rain growls. His fingers tangled in Dewdrop’s sweaty hair tighten as he shoves him further down his cock, making him gag. The fire ghoul has tears in his eyes at the rough treatment without even the smallest hint of pleasure—the hard sole of Rain’s boot against his clothed cunt not enough to even take the edge off. “You wanted me, you insatiable little whore, and you’ve got me.”

Dewdrop cries out against the pain of Rain’s words and his hold on his hair as he pulls him off of his cock. “Rainy–”

“Nuh-uh, I’m not your Rainy right now,” the water ghoul chuckles cruelly, digging his foot further into Dewdrop’s crotch—just enough for it to hurt. “Not when you piss me off, you know that.”

“‘M sorry, sorry, fuck, daddy!” he all but screams. Rain smiles—as pleased as he’ll probably get tonight—and shoves him back down, stuffing the fire ghoul’s throat with his hard cock.

“That’s better,” Rain spits and bucks his hips to fuck even deeper into Dewdrop’s hot mouth. He knows when Rain gets close and hopes to feel his creamy cum spilling down his throat in just a few moments; that would be more than worth all his misery.

The water ghoul has a different idea, though.

“Oh no, you cumslut, you’re not getting your favorite treat tonight,” he pulls him off by his hair and grips the base of his dick with his free hand. Dewdrop mewls pathetically and hangs his head—disappointed. “Daddy will give you something better, baby.”

He’d argue, if not the circumstances, but he’s more than willing to wait and see what daddy does have to offer.

He takes his foot off of Dewdrop’s cunt and puts it on his shoulder—keeping him down and at a desired distance. Rain strokes his cock slowly a few times and milks out a gorgeous bead of pre that the fire ghoul drools for, but doesn’t jerk himself to complexion.

Rain angles his dick at Dewdrop’s chest and suddenly he knows what’s coming.

The stream of piss is strong enough to splash off of his shirt and go all over, including his face. The water ghoul sighs as the uncomfortable pressure on his bladder ceases while Dewdrop moans like a true whore, staring down at his clothes getting darker and darker.

“Yeah, you whore. You’ll take anything I give you and be in pure bliss, won’t you? Shameless slut for daddy’s piss and all."

Dewdrop’s guts burn at the humiliation, but Rain isn't wrong. He’s finished in a blink of an eye and is standing up the moment the last drop falls from his tip.

“Get up, I wanna cum in your pussy,” Rain snarls, but Dewdrop is too horny and stupid to process his words. The water ghoul won’t have that; with bared teeth he grips Dewdrop’s arms and hoists him up to throw him onto the bed. “I said get up, you useless fucking bitch!”

That seems to snap him out of it and he scrambles to present to Rain like a good ghoul—hoping to at least get some fingers in him first.

His wish is not granted as Rain rips his pants off of his ass and brings the head of his cock to his hole right away. Dewdrop tries to prepare himself for the sting of the stretch, but it’s impossible; he wails when Rain slides all the way in and begins to pound into him without mercy.

He’s abusing his cervix, but at least rubs his g-spot while he’s at it, so another hope—for an orgasm—blooms in Dewdrop’s mind.

He drools onto the blanket below him as Rain fucks him stupid and in no time at all the water ghoul’s grunting and shoving himself as deep as he will go to cum inside his mate.

“D–Daddy, I–please, please, lemme cum,” Dewdrop sobs, losing his hope—he needs something more, he can’t just cum like this, but he knows Rain isn’t likely to give him anything else.

He is very wrong.

The water ghoul purrs behind him and presses two of his fingers into Dewdrop’s slick ass. It’s unexpected, but he wouldn’t dare complain. Rain isn’t done, though.

Dewdrop begins to worry when he bends over him completely and gets his other hand behind his sticky thighs. The fire ghoul is about to beg for mercy when Rain grabs his little cock between his fingers and pinches it.

The world goes dark as Dewdrop’s orgasm slams into him.

He’s naked, but clean, and cuddled up to Rain’s side when he comes to. The water ghoul is scratching at his scalp absentmindedly and Dewdrop can’t help but trill happily despite the soreness present all over his body.

“Welcome back, droplet,” Rain hums and leans down to kiss him between the horns.

“Did you really have to waste your cum?” Dewdrop whines, pouting. “That was way too mean.”

"That was too mean for you!? I’m so sorry, baby,” Rain can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t waste it, though, I put it nice and safe in your pretty pussy.”

“You know where I wanted it!” 

“I know, I know.” The water ghoul shakes his head, still giggling. “You can suck me dry tomorrow, how about that?”

Dewdrop’s pout turns into a bright smile as he nods and kicks up a purr, nuzzling into Rain’s neck.

[thepaperqueendom]

I said I was going to start posting Nameless Ghoul headcanons, so here goes nothing, please bear with me.

Swiss humps everyone, but he also loves everyone. Contrary to popular belief, he isn't just looking to get off, he honestly thinks of himself as a ghoul who has three girlfriends and four boyfriends, although he has a particular soft spot for Phantom. He's basically just a big puppy. And all the others find it impossible to not love this weirdo back.

Aurora reads human magazines by the dozen, so she knows about all these human actors and royals and pop stars and talks about them incessantly, because she firmly believes her obsessions should be everyone's obsessions.

Rain's a chronic daydreamer. He's got a lot of that far-away, looking-into-the-distance thing going on, and you have to tell him everything at least twice. The others make fun of him for it.

Mountain can cry on command.

[miasmaghoul]

Here, have some soft dewther emotional hurt/comfort for reasons that do not at all reflect anything about my current mental state no siree👍

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

It's past midnight when Aether flops onto the common room sofa, exhausted from back to back shifts in the infirmary. It's a night he wishes that his own quintessence would work on himself, that he could wick away the ache in his back and the searing heat behind his eyes. He'd dragged himself here in search of food - Aether can't remember the last thing he ate, or when - but the sight of the couch had forced him to redirect.

So here he sits, alone in the dark common room, staring out the massive windows flanking the fireplace and watching the stars twinkle. He knows he should get up, should find something to put in his stomach so he can at least try to sleep, but his legs weigh a thousand pounds each and the thought of moving is enough to have Aether groaning into the silence surrounding him.

He wishes he were like Rain, like Swiss. That he could just close his eyes and be on his way to dreamland. That he didn't have to deal with the storm in his head, the revolving door of tasks to be done on his next shift. Reviewing the cases he'd handled today; there had been a flu outbreak in the human wing, and Aether stretches his hands while he thinks of every fever he'd soothed, every cough he'd calmed, every bit of suffering he'd pulled from those fragile bodies and let sink into himself.

Ghouls may not be susceptible to human illness, but the power it takes to heal them always leaves him feeling ill. Empty. Hollow.

Aether cracks his knuckles as the memory of one particular Sibling crosses his mind - a young girl, no more than twenty. Pale and shivering, hacking up a lung into the sleeve of her habit while she curled up in the corner of the waiting area. She was the only one who has arrived at the infirmary alone, a newly anointed Sister of Sin who hadn't found her footing yet. Hadn't found her family yet.

Her pain had been some of the worst for Aether to handle. Not because she was sick, there were other Siblings in far worse condition, but because she was alone. Aether could feel it in his bones the moment he touched her hand. An icy wave of anxiety and regret that had washed over every part of him, an ache even Aether couldn't soothe.

It would pass, he'd assured her. Everyone goes through this - the fear, the loneliness, the feeling that you've made a huge mistake by abandoning everything you knew and loved in the name of something new. Something better. Because there are expectations, assumptions, promises made that paint the church in an ideal, rose-colored light that draws in those eager for a place to belong.

It would pass, he'd assured her. It always does. She would find her routine, find Brothers and Sisters eager to take her under their wing. Find comfort in their Papa's sermons, in prayer and worship, as they all do. Eventually, everything would fall into place. She just needed to give it time. To let it happen.

She'd looked much better once her treatment was complete, had thanked him with a hug he could still feel untold hours later, and Aether was glad to see it. Truly.

But that cold pit of loneliness had stuck around long after she'd left the infirmary, a whirlpool of despair still swirling around in his chest. It's happened a few times before, when he's drained like this, but it's unpleasant all the same. Sore, almost. Like a thorn in his heart, digging deeper with every beat.

He should just go to bed. Make his legs work and drag himself down the impossible distance of the hall. Should collapse into his own bed and try to ignore the chill, the ache, the pounding in his head. He'd get to sleep eventually, right? It would be better than this - at least he'd be laying down. He should at least try.

The kitchen light flips on behind him, and Aether's too tired to jolt.

"Aeth?" A sleep-thick voice creeps into his ears, familiar, and Aether's shoulders sag. "What're you doin' in here?"

The soft patter of bare feet follows, and Aether sighs when their owner comes into view.

"Hey, Dew."

"Hey yourself," the little ghoul mumbles, rubbing at tired eyes. He's dressed in one of Aether's beat-up old shirts and a pair of sunflower printed pajama pants that undoubtedly belong to Sunshine. "I could smell you from my room," he says through a yawn, and Aether cringes. "D'you just get back?"

"Yeah," Aether rasps, working immediately to get his scent under control. It's something he always struggles with on nights like this. "Long day."

He crosses his arms over his chest, rolls his neck, and Dew frowns.

"Looks like more than that." Aether hugs himself a little tighter. "Wanna talk about it?"

"It's nothing," Aether huffs, the guilt of having woken Dewdrop enough to have that thorn sinking in further. "Go back to bed, love, I'm fine."

"Pfft," Dew waves a hand, dismissive, "how many times do I have to tell you you're a shitty liar?"

Aether groans, tosses his glasses to the side to dig the heels of his hands into his burning eyes. He hears Dew's tail thump against the area rug, obvious concern that he must be too tired to hide.

"I just...it was a long day," Aether sighs, resting his elbows on his knees and hunching over. "I'll be fine, I'm just...just tired, that's all."

Warm, bony hands come to rest on his shoulders, and it takes everything Aether has not to whimper at how good that simple touch feels.

"Aether," Dew says, low, "look at me."

He doesn't want to. Knows he too exhausted to hide the way the void in his chest will have darkened his eyes, brought out every line on his face. He knows that if he does, Dew will see the hurt. Hurt that isn't his problem, isn't something he needs to worry about. It's not his job.

"C'mon, Aeth," the little ghoul encourages, one hand leaving a shoulder to glide through Aether's thick, unruly hair. Aether does whimper then, can't help it, but silently prays Dew doesn't hear it. "Please?"

There's something so sincere in that one word that Aether can't deny him. He heaves a mighty sigh, leans back into the couch and begrudgingly lets Dew see.

Those copper eyes bore into him like white hot fire, and it only takes two breaths for Dew to understand.

"Oh, Aether," he breathes, cupping his worn face in those incredible hands. Aether sinks into the touch, something he can't quite name caught in the back of his throat. "What can I do?"

Nothing. Everything. Aether has no idea, too scattered and distracted by the icy claws scratching at his rib cage to do more than shake his head and flex his fingers. Dew won't break his gaze, looking down at him with concern knitting his brow and his mouth turned down at the corners. He brings his own hands up to hold Dew's wrists, overcome by the need for...for...

"Could you just -" a hiccup, one he can't help, "just...remind me I'm not alone?"

The words are miserable to say, a request he feels stupid for making and regrets instantly. Wishes he could take them back the second they pass his lips, a flush of embarrassment rushing up his throat when Dew tips his head. When a lock of golden hair that had slipped from his bun floats across his forehead, those gorgeous eyes gone soft around the edges.

But he doesn't have time to take them back, because Dew's already moving. Gently shaking off Aether's trembling grip and moving to straddle him on the couch. Skinny thighs bracketing his own while Dew settles in, leaning forward to get his arms under Aether's wrinkled white coat, looping them around his waist. Scooching closer until they're chest to chest, no more than their clothes to separate them, and then Dew's resting his head on Aether's shoulder.

"Don't worry, starlight," he lilts, soft as Aether's ever heard him. Dew kisses his neck, no more than a chaste peck. "'S long as I'm around, you never have to be alone."

The little ghoul starts to purr, his unnatural heat seeping into Aether's whole being, and Aether shudders. Wraps him up in strong arms and holds on tight, breathing in cedar and burnt cinnamon. Something so distinctly Dew that it overrides the mess in his head, in his heart, and as it does Aether can do nothing but believe him.

"Thank you, firefly," he huffs, voice thready. Something Dew would normally tease him for, but not tonight. He nuzzles closer, and Aether lets his cheek rest against the little ghoul's head. "Thank you."

[divine-misfortune]

The floor is yours good sir 👀

CLEARS THROAT

After his transition, Dewdrop felt nothing but loss. Everything was taken from him. His element, his pack, his bass. And what pack he had left felt like strangers to him, though some of them were strangers. Mountain and Aether looked at him different. He was just Dew now. No more Dewdrop, the clergy had even stolen his own fucking name from him. No more droplet, no more water lily, no more catfish. Sure, the nicknames changed. Sure, they were still endearing. But they weren’t his. It felt like he’d stolen something from Ifrit - like every passing ‘spitfire’ was desecrating something sacred.

In the weeks and months following, he hides the urge to grimace every single time these new pet names find their way to his ears. Dew wants to like them, wants to feel that familiar fuzzy warmth in his chest. Yearns for the feeling of love to settle into his core like an old familiar friend. He also does his best not to looked like a kicked puppy when Mountain calls this new ghoul ‘tadpole’ for the first time, and the second time, and every occurrence after that. It was like being replaced. More confusing of a feeling though, keeping him around to watch this new water ghoul blossom was painful. Could have been classified as Dewdrop related cruelty.

And there is no way for him to swallow down the resentment and anger that boils in him when Aether purrs the faintest ‘raindrop’ against Rain’s kiss plumped lips. Puts off sparks, the fire in the hearth crackles and flares violently before snuffing out abruptly as he gets off the couch and storms out of the room.

Time blurs eventually. They say it heals all wounds but all it does is numb him to the hurt. Dew can force it down far enough he can force himself to be in the same room as Rain. And then after a bit longer, tolerate a conversation with him, which turns into multiple over time. Spirals into thousands of shared thoughts and words between them until Dew can’t get enough of listening to Rain talk. Disdain and arms length distance becomes infatuation and a desire for proximity he didn’t think possible before.

Dew kisses him. Suddenly and without even considering what he was doing, the fire ghoul was leaning over the sleek white bass in Rain’s lap to sate an itch he’d been ignoring since the day they met. Their mouths fit together like they were made for this. He tastes like everything Dew had dreamed about and more. It tastes like home and conflict mixed in one but it doesn’t drive him away like it should. Curiosity has him licking over the seam of Rain’s lips and dipping past when Rain allows him in. His gasp lights a fire in Dew he’d never felt. Not simply arousal, but something deeper than even he knew. Completion.

They’re lucky Rain has the shoulder strap on because if not that bass would’ve hit the floor because Rain’s hands had abandoned it to fit on a more favorable body. One against his cheek, the other on the back of his neck. Every point of contact Dew can find helps make the world make sense again. He’s practically trying to crawl into Rain’s already occupied lap, wanting to press their bodies together in a way not entirely sexual.

And they part, and Dew’s world feels broken in half. Ripped away by the distance between their lips. The taste lingers and Dew hopes it stays forever. Hopes that this might be the one thing they can’t take from him.

“Rain, I-“

“Took you long enough,” he interrupts and pets his thumb over his warm cheek. “Kept me waiting, droplet.”

There it is. That single fucking word and Dew’s shattered world is flipped on its head and forced back together despite the missing chipped pieces.

The clergy may have stolen it from him, but Rain gave it back just like that.

Dew could laugh, should probably cry, but he just stares at those pretty blue eyes. Frozen until relief thaws him and reminds his heart to start beating again, even if it is a bit faster than it had been. It didn’t matter, his heart could beat right out of his chest and Dew wouldn’t care. Too fixated on the way the word leaves Rain’s tongue, fascinated by the fondness it carries, enraptured by the way he looks at him. It didn’t cure the pain his transition caused him, but it did stitch the open wound shut so it could finally begin to heal.

“Say it again…”

“Again?”

“Call me that again, please.”

“As many times as you want, droplet. Anything you want.”

And each one is a reminder of who he was - who he is. His name no longer felt strange and foreign like ill fitted clothes.