Water ghouls needing to keep their skin extra moisturized so they don't dry out.

Dew rubbing body butter (unscented of course, no harsh chemicals on the fish's skin) all over Rain's body after a bath or a shower to lock in that moisture. He may or may not pop a boner from getting to fondle Rain like that.

Alpha wish pebble knew when to be quiet for his own good.

Pebble was known to have an awful habit of mouthing off even when it only made his situation worse. Endless quips and comments that only served as a shovel to dig his hole even deeper.

The problem is that alpha had a similar terrible habit of encouraging it. Always having something to say on top of whatever attitude pebble had. He can’t help himself, he loves the fight he gets out of him, loves to watch the frustration build up until alpha just has to fuck it out of him.

He tries to be light at first, working pebble up just to tear him back down. Little comments to chip away at his horrible attitude. Has to call him cute when he starts to get handsy, pulling alpha closer with an annoyed huff to rip his clothes off of him.

“Just can’t resist me can you? God you’re cute when you’re desperate”

“That’s rich considering you’re basically the abbey prostitute.” Pebble sneers, barely taking any time to look over alpha, spread out bare in front of him, before wrapping his hand around his cock to coax him to full hardness.

Alpha shouldn’t laugh at him, but it’s hard to keep it in. He knows damn well that pebble only really bottoms for him most of the time, so hearing him speak so high and mighty about his own purity is almost comical.

“Forgot you’re basically a virgin aren’t you sprout? I know you only let me get my cock in that tight hole”

“Fuck off, you’re just convinient” pebble growls, sinking down to sit in alphas lap. He doesn’t have any time to adjust to his size before alpha is speaking again, making his head spin.

“I’ve practically molded you around my dick haven’t I? Glad no one else has been given the opportunity to taint you for me”

And pebble just can’t help but look confused. He’s flustered, doesn’t know how to respond because the awful thought that alpha likes him more because no one else has fucked him is too arousing for him to admit

Holding your boyfriend's tail for emotional support while he yells at everyone

Would we mayhapse get another round of the Dew fights with someone and they have to very roughly make up like that SwissDew one I'm sure we all love deeply (I know I do)

Ofc dear anon, also I’m so so very happy you enjoyed my Swissdew series, I regard that one so very deeply in my heart. I hope you enjoy this one!

Mist finally confronts dew after his transition.

Warnings for hurt no comfort, implied but not described character death/tragic event, implied but not described torture/traumatic events, mist blames aether and omega for dew and deltas botched transitions

-

“So you really went through with it”

Dew barely registers the sound of her walking outside. The light from the kitchen brightens the space behind him as mist slides open the door. He can’t help but wince seeing her shadow darken his space on the porch.

“Yup”

The cold air whips around them, bringing goosebumps to mists skin while dew sits in his chair unphased, a pile of ashes and old newspapers lay beside him. The air smells like dead leaves tinged with the smoke coming from dew burning pieces of paper at his fingertips. Something that would be comforting on any other night makes her stomach turn. His usual smell of aloe and chamomile long since singed into a sickly petrol that invaded her senses. Mist hadn’t seen him since his transition until now, dew purposely avoiding her to avoid this very interaction.

“I’m sure aethers real pleased with his work this time” mist bites. An attempt to antagonize him, force him to finally talk to her. She doesn’t bother to sit down, only chooses to stand behind dew and wonders if he will even spare her a glance. The wind scatters his pile of ashes, sending them into the yard as dew puts out the flame on his finger.

“Don’t bring aether into this”

“Why shouldn’t I? You know what happened to delta-“

“Delta wasn’t aethers fault mist”

Her throat closes hearing her own name come from his lips. Something she hadn’t heard in weeks and she honestly didn’t know if she would ever hear it again. Because of a botched transition or dew practically disowning her she didn’t know. But a searing ice cold chill ran down her spine. A small part of her brain begged him to just look at her.

“It wasn’t but it was the same situation. If omega of all ghouls can fuck up did you really expect me to trust aether?”

Dew grabs another newspaper and turns it into ash as his flame only grows hotter.

“I told you to stop fucking mentioning him”

“And why should I? What if something happened” it’s all mist can do to not raise her voice. She tries to focus on the sky, count the stars instead of wondering what dew even looks like under his hood. She wonders if it’s even her dewdrop under there. She’s scared of the answer.

“Aether loves me. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt me” more ash dances around the deck, a line of minuscule destruction in favor of lighting the entire deck up while dew attempts to control his new magic.

“Do you think we didn't love delta? He wasn’t some failed experiment like you seem to think he was” mist rubs her face with her sleeve, catching a stray tear that was forming as the cold air invaded her skin

“I never said that”

“Besides, did it not hurt? Did aether not hurt you when he fucking scarred over your gills? Did it not hurt when he forced the fire magic through your veins? Did it not burn? Do you honestly think-“

“What the fuck is your point mist?” Dew stands up to face her.

She can’t help her reaction. A gasp covered by her hands as she stares at what used to be her water ghoul. The gills along his neck had scarred over hastily, red and wrinkled irritated skin stretched over them irregularly. The veins in his hands had turned an ashy grey color, no doubt a side effect of the searing fire ghoul powers that now coursed through them. Dew quickly covers his hands with the sleeves of his sweatshirt, looking away from mists gaze.

“My point is I could hear you screaming in the infirmary dew.” A tear falls down her face as she fixates on the irregular skin around his neck

“I was fine”

“I stayed there every night until omega told me you were ok. Don’t tell me you were fine when I had to listen to you go through that” her fists clench at her side. Dew still won’t look her in the eye.

“You didn’t have to stay. That’s your fault”

Dew makes the mistake of finally looking at mist. A tear runs down her cheek as he takes in her own state. Dark bags under her eyes as she wraps one of dews discarded jackets around herself. The glance doesn’t last for more than a second or two before dew sits back down again. It’s not a sight he wants to bare, he doesn’t want to believe that mist has torn herself to shreds because of him.

There’s no response that makes sense for her to say. A sick feeling in her stomach after weeks of fighting with him to be told it’s her fault for caring. And maybe it was her fault for spending multiple sleepless nights in the infirmary, for standing at dews door multiple times a day hoping he would answer when she knocked, hell even for not being able to take off the jacket she stole from him months ago.

“I thought you were going to die dew”

The words burn in her throat. A reality she hasn’t yet faced but hits her like a bag of concrete.

He stands up once again, gaze fixed to the ground as he pushes past her to open the door and walk inside.

hi !! can we get ifrit having fun with phantom please ?

He gets along with everyone, immediately. There's no dancing around any of the others, no need to dip his toes into the water gingerly when it comes to getting to know them. Aeon is simply summoned and welcomed and finds it terribly easy to hit his stride from the get go.

You fit in well, Ifrit tells him at mass one night, eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles and somehow still manages to seem dangerous even when trying to appear friendly. Perhaps it's the proximity that throws him, the closeness with which Ifrit sits on the pew beside him when he's sure there could be more space. He knows very little- well, is given very little information about Ifrit, who spends more time in the back rooms and shadows of the abbey since packing away the guitar. At some point, they'll all learn what a curious creature Aeon is, prone to exploration by any means possible. It's but a small shame that it will take them a moment to catch up with how quickly Aeon is prone to explore his interests.

By the time Aether actually has a moment to tell Aeon that Ifrit is an older summon, less refined, less patient- more prone to giving in to wants with no hesitation-

Well. The warning would have gone unheeded before, but by the time it happens, Aeon's already let the curiosity steer him down a dimly lit corridor. Into a dimly lit room.

He allows curiosity to pull him into Ifrit's lap, allows curiosity to force him as if controlled by strings to run his hands up Ifrit's arms, feeling and squeezing the muscles. Indulgent, Ifrit smiles that same, unsettling smile, and adjusts so he can flex his bicep for Aeon to feel.

"How strong are you?" Aeon asks, caressing. His tone is amused and relaxed, for now. He's just so interested, excited at the thought of discovery. The nerves will come later, but they aren't here now. Later, his breath will hitch in his chest and his eyes will go wide and worried while he pants out harsh breath and his body will tremble with fear and uncertainty- of this, Ifrit will make sure. But for the next few moments, Aeon is sweet and easy prey. Food to toy with, and utterly pleased with that role. He continues feeling his arm, smiling a crooked little grin with crooked little teeth. The smile only grows when Ifrit's other hand lands heavy on his thigh.

"Stronger than you," Ifrit murmurs, nostrils flaring while he scents the air on his next inhale, breathing in the electrical sparks of arousal rolling off Aeon, so close. It would be easy to push him to the ground and take him. Easier still when that's what Aeon wants him to do.

"Oh, yeah, of course," Aeon says, pleased. "But how much?" He draws his hands to Ifrit's chest, rubs flat palms over him there, and Ifrit allows it. Fights the urge to grab and grope and take and instead- like a gentleman, allows Aeon to feel and explore and grind against his thigh thigh enough to work himself more. "Bet you could carry me pretty easily, huh? Even if I tried to make it difficult."

Ifrit takes a deep, slow breath in and inhales the smell of the blood rushing through Aeon's veins and doesn't bother to hide the way it makes his mouth water.

"If I wanted to," Ifrit says in a low, measured tone, "it wouldn't matter what you wanted."

Aeon hums, pleased. Gaze dropping to Ifrit's mouth, and then he ducks down for the briefest tease of a kiss, the softest most maddening excuse for one, but enough to seal his own fate.

"Prove it."

everyone talking about how big omega is but like. you know air and earth? the og air and earth ghouls? they're taller than omega

Alpha wish pebble knew when to be quiet for his own good.

Pebble was known to have an awful habit of mouthing off even when it only made his situation worse. Endless quips and comments that only served as a shovel to dig his hole even deeper.

The problem is that alpha had a similar terrible habit of encouraging it. Always having something to say on top of whatever attitude pebble had. He can’t help himself, he loves the fight he gets out of him, loves to watch the frustration build up until alpha just has to fuck it out of him.

He tries to be light at first, working pebble up just to tear him back down. Little comments to chip away at his horrible attitude. Has to call him cute when he starts to get handsy, pulling alpha closer with an annoyed huff to rip his clothes off of him.

“Just can’t resist me can you? God you’re cute when you’re desperate”

“That’s rich considering you’re basically the abbey prostitute.” Pebble sneers, barely taking any time to look over alpha, spread out bare in front of him, before wrapping his hand around his cock to coax him to full hardness.

Alpha shouldn’t laugh at him, but it’s hard to keep it in. He knows damn well that pebble only really bottoms for him most of the time, so hearing him speak so high and mighty about his own purity is almost comical.

“Forgot you’re basically a virgin aren’t you sprout? I know you only let me get my cock in that tight hole”

“Fuck off, you’re just convinient” pebble growls, sinking down to sit in alphas lap. He doesn’t have any time to adjust to his size before alpha is speaking again, making his head spin.

“I’ve practically molded you around my dick haven’t I? Glad no one else has been given the opportunity to taint you for me”

And pebble just can’t help but look confused. He’s flustered, doesn’t know how to respond because the awful thought that alpha likes him more because no one else has fucked him is too arousing for him to admit

MY CHILDREN

GAY ASS BITCHES

gotta love em, guys

reblog for sample size !!

guy

earth ghouls + handfasting rituals for courting and marriage

earth ghouls + making and giving gifts for their lovers and loved ones

earth ghouls + carrying around enchanted stones or small items for grounding or protection

working on my Omega design some more

"He knows they can take it. Knows he can crank them up, make them sweat, and whine. It's one of very few ways he can get Swiss to beg."

Look, I know how many requests you must have already, but if you ever elaborated on this it would ruin me in all the very best ways. You know how I feel about whiny begging Swiss.

for @comp-lady and @askingforthesun 1.8k of Mean Dew. Temperature play. VERY improper uses of hot wax. and a needy, whimpering, multi-ghoul.

Swiss prides himself on his ability to adapt. He takes things as they come. Be it a nasty fall off of the stage, or Rain driving his boot into his bladder until his vision blurs. Swiss doesn't buckle. He rolls with it. Leans in. He goes to his knees frequently but rarely drops all the way. Almost never begs. He doesn't get desperate for anything--doesn't need anything bad enough to grovel for it. It's rare that anyone can drag him into that headspace. Needy. Desperate. straddling the razors edge between panic and pleasure. "Color." Swiss tips his head back. He hadn't realized he'd been drifting, eyes unfocused toward the fire raging in Dew's fireplace. All of the logs Dew had stacked in it have burned to ash by now--but the fire doesn't stop. Propelled by Dew's magic. The same infernal heat that is crawling up Swiss' spine. He's deliciously dizzy, the world a little hazy, out of it. He feels sweat trickle down the side of his face. He blinks mismatched eyes at Dew's cruelly beautiful face and Dew sneers at him. He sets one burning hand against Swiss' cheek. "I asked you a question." "Green," Swiss says. He's trying to keep his voice level, it takes a lot of effort. Satanas he's so hot. It feels like the room should be burning down around him. Like he should catch on fire at any second. He's naked, sweat shimmering on every inch of dark skin. Despite the discomfort, the heat, the rough hearthstones beneath his knees, he's still so hard. "Good." Dew pats his hand on the side of Swiss' face, the grin he levels on him is cruel. It makes Swiss' stomach twist. Dew straightens. Swiss' is thrown off when the absence of his touch doesn't bring cool relief. If anything the heat intensities. It feels like it's coming from inside of him. A fever burning it's way through his chest. Into his veins. Immolation at a lazy wave of Dew's hand. He wonders how much Dew can really do--if this takes no visible effort. He watches Dew walk away from him. He's shirtless. Pale skin illuminated by flickering firelight. His golden hair is tied into a knot at the base of his neck. Unlike Swiss, Dew's skin is free from the glimmer of sweat. He looks perfectly at ease. Back as straight as ever, but relaxed. Unbothered by the twitching ghoul kneeling behind him. He's doing something at his desk that Swiss can't see, head bowed. Swiss shifts a little on his knees. The stones on the hearth dig into his shins. If he stays here much longer he'll have bruises from the mortar lines. That's probably exactly what Dew wants. To run his fingers over them later, press meanly against them to drag harsh gasps from Swiss' lungs. Dew's head rockets up as Swiss adjusts himself. The glare he fixes Swiss with as he turns to look at him fills Swiss' stomach with cold dread. He's been good. He hasn't moved. Has kept his hands where Dew told him (on his thighs, palms down). He feels all the drain away. Dew is never going to let him cum. Dew watches him cooly, then turns back to the task at hand. "What did I tell you?" "Stay still," Swiss parrots back to him. There's no keeping the shake out of his voice now. He's so hot. He's so fucking hard. He wants Dew to touch him. He wants him to turn the temperature down. He wants any form of minute relief. It's blissful torture. Pinned between wanting this agony to last forever, or for Dew to finally give in--to make him cum so hard he blacks out. Swiss' fingers shake against his thighs, but he doesn't move again.

He's drifting again when Dew comes back. It's so rare that anyone really gets him to drop that he doesn't realize it until Dew's carding a gentle hand through his hair. His skin hot enough to scald if Swiss didn't have a little fire magic of his own. As it is, his touch stings. Swiss wonders what those hot hands will feel like on the rest of his body. His cock twitches at the thought. Dew notices, eyes dragging down to where Swiss is hard and heavy between his legs. His cock is flushed, the tip shiny with pre. His arousal is an ever-present ache. Somehow better and worse than the heat. They work in tandem to drive Swiss deeper--to drive him insane. "Please," Swiss says suddenly. His mouth is dry, his throat aches.

"Please what?" "Dew. Come on--Just..give me something. Anything," Swiss can't help it now. There's no holding back the pleading. The need for something other than this particular brand of purgatorial torture. "Anything?" Dew cocks an eyebrow. Swiss notices, too late, that Dew's other hand is behind his back. Swiss nods, not thinking. Edging toward stupid, desperate. The first drip of wax onto his collarbone wakes him up a little. It hurts. His cock kicks with each dribble. Precum beading at the tip as Dew holds a closed fist over Swiss' body and lets deep violet wax fall from his fingers. It doesn't dry fast enough. Running in burning rivulets down Swiss' overheated body. Dew watches their path, dripping over his nipples, down his belly to dry in the hair of his happy trail. Swiss tips his head back, arches his back, presses into that pain. A low groan dragged from his chest as Dew shifts his angle and the wax hits his hips, runs down the crease toward his balls. Swiss clamps his eyes closed. Feels each drip of wax as it lands on his skin. His thighs, his pubic bone. Closer and closer to the place he wants it, but never quite there. A splatter of wax hits his knuckles, drips over his inner thighs. Swiss can't think about how hot he is anymore--only about the ache in his groin. About the bright lines of decadent pain Dew is carving into him.

Dew shifts. Swiss feels it, and then suddenly they’re on the same level. Dew slips one knee between Swiss’ spread thighs and shoves his legs a little further open.

Swiss tips his head back up, looks at Dew stupidly. He wants to ask for something—to ask what’s next. But his tongue is so heavy in his mouth. And he doesn’t know what he wants—except whatever Dew is willing to give him. He isn’t as hot now, Dew must have pulled back on some of the heat. Dew’s watching him with careful eyes, calculating. He’s nudged up close, his kneecap pressed just barely up against Swiss’ balls.

“Color,” Dew asks, softer this time. He takes the hand not coated in wax and puts it on Swiss’ cheek, forces their eyes together so Dew can look for something—Swiss doesn’t know what.

“Green. So green. Touch me with it,” Swiss grits out, nodding toward Dew’s wax coated hand.

Dew licks his lips. It’s the only warning Swiss has before Dew opens his fist. The last remnants of the candle he’d been clutching still melting against his skin. He curls his fingers around the base of Swiss’ aching cock and Swiss howls. Back bowing backward, hips jerking upward into Dew’s hand as white-hot pleasure sparks up his spine. It shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t feel like this. The wax stays wet between their overheated bodies and Dew drags it up and down Swiss’ shaft in languid strokes at first, polishing the head, mixing wax and pre. Swiss is shuddering in no time. Thighs twitching, hips bucking up into Dew’s hand as he chases the coil in his gut. “Close already?” Dew asks, his voice cold. “Pathetic.”  “Dew—oh fuck—Dew you’re gonna make me—”

“No.” Dew pulls his hand back and Swiss sags, he twitches, hips rolling up, searching for the one last bit of friction he needs to cum. He was so close, inches away. It barely starts to recede before Dew’s back on him, strokes not languid anymore, and it’s only second before Swiss is whining again. Begging. Dew pulls off as soon as the first please leaves Swiss’ lips. Dew sets a rhythm. A handful of quick strokes until Swiss is keening, before letting go. Watching Swiss’ cock bob and pulse.

On the last one, he grips the base of Swiss cock hard, hot wax running down the shaft and down to his aching balls. They’re so heavy. God all Swiss can think about is cumming. Not the heat still pulsing through him, or the wax drying on his skin. Just release, relief. He shakes in Dew’s grasp.

“Ask for it,” Dew orders. “Nicely.”

“Please,” Swiss gasps. Trying to fuck into Dew’s hand and failing. “Please make me cum, Dew. Please. I need it—I—please.” “Such a fucking whore aren’t you?”  Swiss nods. Satanas he’ll say anything. Agree to anything. His cock kicks in Dew’s grip, stomach swooping at the dark look in Dew’s eyes. Swiss wants to reach out to him, wants to pull him in and beg. Offer him life and limb, and internal organs just for this.

Dew must see something in his eyes—a little too much desperation, a little too much devotion. Because when he starts to jack Swiss off this time he doesn’t stop. Not when Swiss keens, and rocks in his grip. Not when he warns him, voice breaking. All Dew does is shift his own position, pulling back so that when Swiss cums it’s all over the fireplace and not Dew’s jeans.

Swiss’ orgasm blows through him like a train. His eyes roll back as he bends in. Shoulders hunching, body shuddering with each wave. The pleasure pain of it is exquisite. Electricity sparking through his fingertips. He seizes, his vision darkens at the edges but Dew holds him upright, works him through it with measured strokes as Swiss spends himself all over the stones in front of the fire.

Dew whispers praises in his ears that Swiss doesn’t really hear. Strokes his hand through Swiss’ hair, over his back, as he comes back. Breathing slowing into something easy. He’s boneless like this, pliant. Dew presses a kiss between his horns.

Swiss looks up at him after a while, the room clearing. The world steady beneath him. He’s exhausted, fucked out, loose limbed. He feels good.

“Welcome back,” Dew whispers against his hair. “You ok?”

“Better than.”

“Good,” Dew grins at him. “Guess that means you can bathe yourself.”

Judging by the swift lance of panic that slices through Swiss—he isn’t back to normal as much as he thought. He clings to Dew even though he knows it’s a joke. Dragging the smaller ghoul closer even as Dew chuckles softly at him. “Yeah,” he says, bumping his horns against Swiss’ “that’s what I thought.”

My OTP

There's a roar of flames in the back of his mind, spilling into his consciousness. 'You have to do something. We all have to do something.' It's Ifrit, a ghoul seasons younger than him, his scarlet skin ominous in the bloody red of the fading daylight.

S'more Fritter for the soul.... even if he's deeply traumatized in this picture.

Yeah na mushy may will be easy to do. And I’ll be able to easily include most if not all the ghouls!

(Stares at list of 24 fucking ghouls I’ve grown insanely attached to and can’t pick between)

hello! as you are zephrit president and i am a humble zephfrit fanatic i feel like i have to show you this tiktok of cats that screamed zephfrit to me :D i hope you enjoy <3

https://www.tiktok.com/@towernaps/video/7341071208995310894?_t=8lt8TlTCMOf&_r=1

(For those who can’t or don’t wanna open the link, it’s two kitty cats grooming each other in a sunspot from a window)

Thank you for addressing me by my official title of zephrit president.

But no this is so very them. Also even just the colors???? Ifrit is so orange cat and Zeph is very calico or tabby. And ugh they’re just so sweet and cozy and they have to cuddle all the time because Zeph gets cold easily and their joints hurt so ifrit wraps them in warmth and nuzzles into their neck just telling them how much he loves them and -

I’m going to cry I’m so obsessed with them