-No but really, Mary is /disgusting/, aside from the obvious reasons. He's a degenerate in every meaning of the word. But somehow, people still want to fuck him. Maybe it's the confidence, maybe it's how he looks when he actually cleans up. Who knows.
-Speaking of, when he actually cleans up and isn't covered with dirt and blood? He'a /handsome/- sharp cheekbones, lovely jawline, wicked green eyes that definitely have some black eyeliner smudged around them (if not some light corpse paint-). His hair is s o f t, too- you'd think it wouldn't be, but without any product in it (or dried blood-), it's s o f t to the touch, and fluffy. It does defy gravity at times.
•Let's move on to what y'all really want. What's below the belt (Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic-). He's more length than girth, really (it's ya boi, uh, skinny penis-), around seven and a half inches. Not circumcised! He has ONE piercing, and it hurt a lot.
But he loves it.
It's a Prince Albert- aka, the tip of his dick is pierced. It hurt a lot. He doesn't regret it.
(His tongue is also pierced!)
-He, surprisingly, keeps himself well groomed. It's all neat and trimmed- the carpet does NOT Match the drapes. he's a natural blonde, and it shows below the belt.
•He may be skinny but the bitch is strong. Can deadlift someone his own weight. He's small but strong.
-In other words, expect a fight for dominance. He does NOT sub easily. He will ALWAYS put up a fight. Might even bite. Beware, he probably has rabies.
•Lets get Kinky.
-Knife kink first and foremost. He carries five knives on him at all times. Expect him to whip one out- to cut your clothes, hold to your throat, or cut your skin up (consentingly). Or to use on himself. Or for his partner to use on him. Please hold a knife to his throat as you fuck the daylights out of him he'll be in HEAVEN.
-(so give them) BLOOD. He likes the look of it, likes the taste- has a bad habit of biting his partner's lip hard enough that it bleeds. But this ties in with the knife kink- he likes making little cuts on his partner, just enough to get some blood beading up. Maybe more if they're into it, too.
-Fear Play- ties in with the two above. He thrives off fear. That adrenaline rush is just *chef's kiss*. But he likes for his partner to be a little scared- or really, really fucking terrified. Either way, it works.
-Sensory Deprivation. Slap some ear muffs or headphones on him, tie on a blindfold, and go at it. He likes the thrill, the suspense of not knowing. He also likes doing this to his partner! Its a damn power trip.
-Controlled Orgasms for his partner. He likes to either make them BEG to cum or to make them BEG for him to stop.
-He's gross I'm sorry but the guy has a lowkey piss kink. Only for others, not himself. It's a degradation thing. Likes to make fun of his partner if they end up pissing themselves.
-Degradation to the MAX. He's filthy. He'll call his partner every name in the book, will make fun of how they sound- he can be m e a n. He'll stop if they get too uncomfortable, of course. But oh-
Reverse it on him. Call him a slut for taking you so well. Slap him. Spit on him. STEP ON HIM. Make him rut against your foot or leg. Get him whining and close to tears before letting him cum.
-He likes lingerie- on himself. Pretty panties and a pair of stockings? Loves how lace feels against his skin.
-PEG. HIM. PEG HIM PEG HIM P E G H I M. Hold him DOWN and watch him melt. He's /weak/ for strong women. Femdoms? His shit. Please. Call him a good boy and he WILL sink to his knees and do whatever you want him to.
-It started out ironically, but the fucker ended up with a Daddy Kink and he isn’t sure how or why it’s there now. But it is. He’ll call his partner Daddy if they rail him hard enough. It just... Slips out. Oops?
•His main hard no would be anything involving drugs. He's a smart kid, really. And he doesn't l i k e having sex when he's fucked up. Ruins the experience.
-Will also shy away from electric shocks. He isn't into that. That's /too/ much pain for him.
-Is iffy with temperature play. Ice is okay, but hot wax is ehhh. Not his favorites, really.
I'm not putting the OBVIOUS shit on this list. We all know he likes to fuck in graveyards. He's That Guy. Corpse Fucker McGee.
That is all so long and goodnight I need to go repent for my sins.
Lmaoo the lonely bisexual energy is rADIATING- also, I’m here to request more nsfw Mountain!! How would he deal with an s/o with a very high libido and who has an epic degradation kink (receiving on their end)??
OH BUDDY IT SURE IS. I didn’t even get to go to any haunted houses this year. Is v sad. BUT THIS???? I CAN GLADLY GIVE MOUNTAIN SIN.
So, Mountain doesn’t have as big of a degradation kink as some of the other Ghouls (Swiss? Dewdrop? Hit them UP if you wanna fuckin’ cry.) HOWEVER, that being said-
-His own libido is surprisingly high, but he just doesn’t act on it often. He doesn’t seek out his fellow Ghouls or Siblings, figures he can just take care of it himself with his hand or a toy. But when his s/o comes into the picture? And their libido is just as high as his? Oh, buddy, it’s wonderful!
-Morning romps where it’s slow and sweet? Yes. Quickies in the shower or while getting ready? You betcha. Before going on stage for a Ritual? Yeah buddy. At night? OH YEAH. He’s horrible and his libido is terrifying.
-And even if he isn’t feeling up to it? He’ll gladly get his s/o off with his fingers (long drummer’s fingers are a blessing). He’ll get them begging and gasping and grinding in no time. -As for degradation, it’s... Light. He’s more likely to describe how you look rather than call you an outright slut or whore. For example:
-”Look at you, trying to get more of my cock in- who knew you would be so needy? It’s filthy, disgusting.” All while he’s practically draped over their back, so it’s whispered in their ear.
-Not degradation, but he’s also horrible, because he’ll send them a text earlier in the day detailing just what he plans on doing to them when they’re done with chores for the day.
Swiss is haunted by phantoms of his past and seeks comfort in the one person who knows it all: Cirrus.
Yeah this is just pretty much all smut. The woman mentioned by Swiss (not by name) is an OC. Also, I give Swiss & Cirrus actual TRUE names. And this is based on a lot of headcanons I have.
I ship everyone. Enjoy.
My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand,
it's how I know now that you understand.
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There were days that Swiss wished he could simply lay in bed and ignore his duties. But that wasn’t possible; he had to get up, to move, to tend to the instruments, to check on a few of the younger Ghouls, to check in with Copia and look over any paperwork that needed a second, critical eye. Today was one of those days, yet he’d managed- just barely. There was a word for this that the mortals used- depression, they called it. But he didn’t like that word, didn’t like putting words to certain things he felt.
It didn’t help that there was a new Ghoulette with hair the same color as hers and eyes the same shade. She wasn’t a Quintessence Ghoulette, though. She was just another Water Ghoulette, summoned to help the Abbey. Her words didn’t have the same biting tone; she wasn’t Her. Yet, he’d still flirted, had still stolen kiss after kiss. Harmless little things.
Now, sitting in his room, the silence was too loud. He could go to Mountain and tease him until he pinned him to the bed and fucking ruined him for the next week. He could go to one of the older Ghouls, perhaps Alpha or Omega, and have one- or both of them- wreck him. He could grab Dewdrop and be nothing but carnal release. His gaze drifted upwards, studying the solid white mask that sat beside a black mask of the same make. Memories danced within his mind of hidden smiles, stolen touches, fleeting kisses. Nothing ever progressed beyond that. They had always been too busy carrying out the Clergy’s dirty deeds.
‘Nomos’, she’d whisper, her voice low, ‘Nomos, touch me-’
He jolted off the bed, jaw clenching, claws digging into the skin of his palms. He needed out. His tail twitched quickly behind him, showing his anger, his aggression. He didn’t even bother with shoes, simply grabbing his room key and leaving, slamming the door behind him. The lock clicked automatically, a handy little thing for the Ghouls- unless you forgot your key.
Swiss wasted no time in crossing through the Ghoul’s wing, climbing the stairs up to Cirrus’s room, ignoring Aether’s call of his name. He needed- needed to talk to her. She knew. She knew everything. She could help.
He needed her.
By the time he reached her door, tears had filled his eyes. He knocked twice, and waited- listening as footsteps neared the door, as the door was unlocked. Cirrus stood there, mask hastily shoved on, wrapped in a silken navy robe. She stared at him, hard, before stepping aside. “Come on.”
He slid in, and she closed the door behind him, locking it. He set his keys aside and dragged his hands through his hair- Nine circles, he’d forgotten his mask. Too late now. Cirrus watched, her arms crossed over her chest, as he paced the floor of her room. He was irritated, wrung raw and chafing.
“Talk.”
“It’s close to the anniversary,” Swiss began, tears spilling over, trailing down flushed gray cheeks. “I can’t- there’s just. It’s too much, Cirrus.” He whined, sinking down onto the edge of her bed. “It’s been over two hundred years and I still see her shocked face in my dreams. I still hear her laughter. I can’t stop thinking.”
Cirrus moved closer, sitting beside him. She scooted back before grabbing his shoulder and tugging him over. He complied, head settling atop her thigh as sobs began to spill out. She didn’t speak, simply toyed with his dreadlocks, claws gently scraping against his skull, down his neck, back up again.
This wasn’t something she wasn’t used to. Swiss had told her one hundred and three years ago about what had happened one night. They had both been drinking- Ghouls always held a lower alcohol tolerance compared to humans- and he started rambling. Talking about Umbra and how she had taught him. How he’d been a hound for Nihil for years. How the scars that decorated his skin were from an Eldritch, this one from a Ghoul gone mad, this one from a Sibling who fought back against his death, this one from a higher demon, and on and on. And Cirrus had sat there and listened to it all until Swiss had finally fallen silent.
And then, she told him of her trauma. Of the forced surgery. Of the blood on her own hands. The lashings she received. The hatred she held. She told him all, and he pulled her in, and just… Held her. Held her, and hummed, and ran his fingers over her arm. And she had curled her arms around his waist, and they sat like that until dawn came.
They understood one another, better than anyone else in the entire Abbey.
She glanced down as Swiss pulled away, scrubbing at his eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his nose rosy and eyes glazed. “Go wash your face off,” she murmured, and he nodded, Rising to his feet, he made his way to the attached bathroom. He didn’t look at his reflection- he knew how he looked. Instead, he took one of her lavender soap bars and lathered up, scrubbing his face before splashing it with cold water. A shock to the senses, clarity coming through. He dried off before returning to collapse onto the bed, falling into the mountain of pillows Cirrus kept.
He shifted, his head tilting back against the soft pillows. Her room smelled of lavender and spices, the bed a lovely four poster with sheer, light blue fabric hanging from the bars along the top. It almost resembled a cage, he noted- though, he knew well those bars were not just for show. His gaze drifted to the left, where the Ghoulette sat on the edge of the bed.
She'd let her hair down, the black hood and silver mask set aside. Long, deep brown tresses flowed down her back, curling near the ends at the small of her back. Idle fingers reached out, brushing through the soft tresses. He watched as a shudder ran through her, her head raising. She’d discarded her robe to reveal a black satin nightgown.
"Pretty pathetic, right?" Swiss mused, lips quirking upwards in a humorless smile.
"No." Cirrus shook her head, turning around to face him. "It isn't. You were used by men and women to complete jobs they didn't have the guts to. And you're still here." She reached out and cupped his cheeks. A mere fifteen minutes ago, they'd been tear-stained and flushed. He leaned into the touch, trilling softly. "You're alive. You've survived. I remember those days. I remember seeing you and-... And her coming back, bloodied but laughing, high off the thrill of it." She rose onto her knees, her black satin nightgown rising to show thighs that he knew, very well, could choke a man out. "I miss that laughter. You were once so happy, Nomos," a gasp left him, eyes widening at the sound of his true name.
She shuffled closer as he sat up, cupping both cheeks now. She leaned in, a low rumble of a purr filling the air. "Let me take that pain away?" Cirrus asked, lips hovering over his own. A whine left him, the urge to submit washing over him like a tidal wave. He closed the distance, claiming her lips in a kiss she immediately took over, forked tongue snaking out to trace along his lips. He gasped, lips parting, and their tongues met, brushing against each other.
His hands came to rest on the tops of her thighs, clawed fingers pressing into the smooth skin repeatedly, kneading. Her scent invaded his sense- cold winter winds, harsh mint, gentle lavender, an undertone of woodsmoke. She pulled back, and he followed, rising up- only for a hand to press down on his chest, holding him in place. She pressed harder, and slowly, he fell back upon the bed, watching as she climbed atop his lap, settling down with a pleased murmur. Cirrus was beautiful in a wicked way; high cheekbones, sharp steel-gray eyes that held a hint of gold within, framed by long, dark lashes. Full lips that she liked to paint a deep red, and a surprisingly feminine jawline.
She was every bit a lioness, and he was her prey.
Wordlessly, her hands drifted beneath his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, careful of his horns. Bared before her, his gaze slipped away from hers. "No." She shook her head, frowning. "Eyes on me, Nomos," she murmured before leaning down, tongue sliding out to lick across a twisting scar upon his left bicep. A hellhound had caused that one, he remembered briefly.
"Aquilo," he whispered, gaze trained on her as she continued to kiss and lick every scar she could reach on his upper torso. A shudder ran through her, her tail coming to curl around his thigh, squeezing at the sound of her true name. By the end, he was panting, keening for more, and her hips were sinfully, slowly grinding down. "Aquilo, please-"
"Please, what?" She mused, sitting back up. His fingers gripped her hips, urging her to go faster. She didn't relent, instead reaching up with both hands to wrap around his throat, thumbs resting below his chin, keeping his head up. "Patience, darling. Let me tear you apart," a slow circle of her hips, "allow me to drink deep your pain," her hands squeezed, pulling free a high keen from his throat, "I want to break you down, piece by piece." She leaned down, teeth grazing along a surprisingly sensitive nipple. "Will you let me?"
He squeezed his eyes shut as she waited for an answer. He could feel her purring- could feel how wet she already was, soaking through her silk panties and his own sweatpants. Finally, he swallowed roughly. "Please- please tear me apart. Help me feel again, Aquilo."
Her lips spread into a wicked grin; she felt his pulse jump in his neck. “Good boy,” she murmured before leaning down, licking a hot stripe across that damned hellhound scar before she shifted, climbing off his lap. He didn’t dare move his hands; not now, not as a claw traced the shape of his length. A groan pulled free as Cirrus suddenly pressed down with her palm, enjoying the feeling of him jumping beneath her. She grasped the edges of his sweatpants and tugged, pulling them down and off, tossing them to the ground. “No underwear? Slut.”
A laugh escaped Swiss suddenly as he shook his head. “Really? I don’t think you’ve ever called me a slut before.”
She grasped him, her palm cool against his heat, and a groan left him. “You seem to like it,” she mused as she loosened her grip, letting her fingers slowly trail up, claws brushing against the sensitive head. Her index claw just barely grazed the slit; a pleased noise escaped her as she watched a pearly bead spill free. “Already beginning to weep for me, Swiss? Is this the Incubus in you?”
“Don’t tease,” he whined, hips bucking. Her hand withdrew, drawing for an even louder whine.
“Patience,” she murmured as she leaned down, tongue lolling out. She drug it down his length slowly, the sound of Swiss moaning above her like music to her ears. “Or else, I won’t let you cum.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Swiss gasped as she suddenly grasped his cock around the base, squeezing almost painfully. “Okay, you would-”
“I know Mountain edges you,” she began, her lips just brushing against the underside, “I know how he uses his fingers and brings you to the edge over and over again. I know how you like to ride his fingers, how you whine and beg for more when he pulls away.” Swiss whined, and she laughed, a low, dark sound. “Yes, just like that. I know how you like it when Aether wraps his hand around your throat. And how you make Dew ride you in the confession booth. How you let little Rain choke on your dick. You’re our little slut, aren’t you?” Swiss was panting, his pupils blown, swallowing the honey brown iris nearly completely. He licked his lips.
“How- how do you know?” He asked, swallowing roughly as her hand began to move slowly. “Who told…?”
She hummed, resting her chin on his thigh as she moved her hand almost painfully slow. “I have my ways, darling. Mountain is surprisingly talkative when in the right mood. And we know how big Dew’s mouth is.” She watched as he twitched, a snort leaving her. “You’re desperate for more, aren’t you?”
“Please, please,” his head rolled back as she withdrew her hand. “You’re evil.”
“Normally, I’d keep tormenting you. But I don’t think you need that tonight, do you?” She could feel his tail creeping up the back of her thigh, the spade toying with the band of her underwear. “Aw, little Nomos is so needy!” She reached up, squishing his cheeks. “Needy little kit.” She couldn’t help the trill that left her as the tip of his tail dipped low, rubbing against her heat. In retaliation, she slid two fingers into his mouth, watching as his eyes widened in surprise. “Suck.”
Swiss hummed around the fingers, tongue curling around them as Cirrus watched. Her own pupils were blown wide; she was shivering in anticipation. Good; he reached out, gripping her wrist, pulling it from his lips. “Aquilo,” he purred, watching as she shifted her hips, her thighs clenching. “You’re just as needy as I am.”
“Did I say you could talk?” Cirrus snapped, lip curling as she jerked her hand free. She moved back, out of his reach. He watched as she reached between her thighs, a sigh escaping her as she slid her silken panties down. She didn’t speak as her fingers brushed against herself, her eyes sliding shut. Swiss let out a groan at the sight, watching as she wasted no time, sliding a finger into herself. It was a slow process, drawn out to tease him no doubt, as she fucked herself. There wasn’t really any true need; she knew she was wet enough. She even savored that sting that came with the first push, but to see Swiss thrusting into thin air, begging to be touched as she touched herself… It was addicting.
Her hips rolled forward as a moan spilled free. She was getting close- too close. With a whine, she pulled her fingers free. Swiss reached out, grasping her wrist, and before she could pull back, his tongue was curling around the wet digits, groaning at the taste. A keen pulled free of Cirrus as she watched him clean her wetness from her fingers. She pulled them back before shuffling forward, brows furrowing.
“You don’t have to take the nightgown off,” Swiss spoke suddenly, his voice soft. The tension in Cirrus’s shoulders melted away as relief flooded her system. “I know.”
“Thank you,” she murmured as she climbed atop him once more. She reached back, grasping him with a gentle hand before shifting her hips down. A groan spilled free of Swiss as his cock brushed against her, the head knocking against her clit. Cirrus jolted, a grin spreading across her lips as she simply grinded herself against him for a moment, drawing out the pleasure before finally lifting her hips.
This wasn’t their first time together, or even their second, or their fifth. She could offer him what he was too afraid to ask at times; she could read him like an open book. And he could see her, touch her without her flinching away or growling.
She slowly lowered her hips, her head falling back as he filled her. It was still a stretch; two fingers had not been enough, but the sting faded quickly as she bottomed out. She took a moment, letting herself adjust. Swiss reached up, grasping her hips gently beneath her nightgown, thumbs rubbing small circles into the smooth skin. Her eyes opened, and grey met brown as her hands crept up, encircling his throat.
“Squeeze,” he whispered, “please.”
And squeeze she did as she raised her hips slowly before dropping back down, enjoying the slow movements as she began to ride him. He gave her a breathless smile as he braced his feet against the bed, knees rising to give her a little leverage. Neither of them would last long, not with how worked up they already were, not with her hands around his throat. She began to ride him in earnest, hips swiveling on each thrust. Soft moans left her- Cirrus was never one to be too vocal. Swiss, however, would have been vocal- had hands not been wrapped around his throat. Instead, rough keens left him as the sound of skin meeting skin filled the bedroom.
One of his hands slipped forward, roughened pads of his fingers slipping between them to rub tight, quick circles around her clit. His other hand stayed on her hip, gripping, claws digging into her skin. His tail twined with hers, the spade pressed against her own.
“In you,” he whispered, breath coming in harsh pants. “Please, can I-”
“Yes, yes,” she replied, eyes squeezing shut as she approached her climax. “Cum for me, Nomos, Now.” It wasn’t a request. Her hands tightened before releasing his throat altogether. A surprised gasp left him as his orgasm crashed over him. She was right behind him, her hips stilling as she clenched around him. She bit her lip hard enough to break skin, fangs piercing the flesh. Blood welled up; she licked it away, shuddering as his fingers continued to rub until she batted at his hand.
His knees dropped as Cirrus climbed off, collapsing beside him. “I didn’t wear a condom.”
“I know.” She hummed, leaning over to lick at a bead of sweat that had been slowly trailing down his throat. “I needed to change my sheets, anyway. And take a shower…” She trailed off, grimacing at the feeling.
Swiss hummed, leaning over to steal a kiss, the iron tang of blood drifting across his taste buds. “Thank you.”
“You can thank me by taking a shower with me,” Cirrus replied as she shifted, stretching her arms over her head. “You stink.”
“So do you,” he countered, smiling as she laughed. These were the soft moments, the afterglow. Cirrus looked beautiful like this, with light dancing in her eyes and her lips spread into a smile. It was a rarity; very few ever got to see her like this. He thought himself to be lucky to be one of the few. “Wanna go raid the kitchen afterwards? I think there’s still leftover Chinese.”
“You say that as if I’m letting you leave this bedroom anytime soon.” She replied as she rolled off the bed to stand. “I’m not finished with you yet. We have all night. There’s no plan, no kingdom to come.” She didn’t even glance over her shoulder as she made her way to the bathroom, finally pulling off her nightgown, revealing lash scars on her back.
Swiss rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but grin as he climbed off her bed as well, bare feet padding on the stone floor, trailing after her. “Copia’s gonna be pissed if we’re too tired for practice tomorrow.”
“Maybe he needs to get fucked, too.”
“... Probably.”
Laughter filled the air as Cirrus tugged Swiss close, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she stole a kiss, thoughts of phantoms gone for the moment.
THERE WAS ANOTHER ANON WHO ALSO REQUESTED AETHER AND I WENT TO POST IT AND TUMBLR MCFUCKED UP @ THAT ANON I’M SORRY-But I’m gonna combine these!
A=Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)He’s so sweet? He’s a gentle Ghoul after everything’s all said and done. He’ll crab you a toweL and some water for the both of you before helping clean you up. This may or may not lead to another round, though… But he also gives AMAZING massages if asked!
B= Body Part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)He’s proud of his upper torso in general: pecs, shoulders, biceps. They’re well defined and he likes being able to just cradle someone to his chest or just life them up like they weight absolutely nothing! On his PARTNER, he’s an ass kinda guy. All asses are good asses. As long as he’s able to grab and squeeze, he’s in heaven. For a female partner, a nice chest is a bonus, because again- he’s handsy. He likes to hold.
C= Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)Ghouls happen to cum a lot. Aether is no exception. There will be overflow. Having a towel on hand is a smart move (or just. Make him clean it up-). He prefers to cum inside, but he understands the fear that can come from that so as long as he gets to blow his load, he’s good.
J= Jack Off (Masturbation Headcanon)Oh man. He’s not as bad as some Ghouls; he can go a few days between. But he does have the innate need to do the dirty, so on average, every other day he’ll need to get off. If he has time, he’ll edge himself to draw it out (usually when in a hotel room by himself OR back at the Abbey). If he doesn’t have time, then he’ll just let his imagination go wild and get it done as quickly as possible.
K=Kink (One or more of their kinks)-Voyeuristic. When alone and getting off, he does like to have some sort of visual if possible- nudes from a partner (or videos, yum), or POV videos. He’s a visual kind of guy.
M=Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)Grab. His. ASS. Just grab a good handful and SQUEEZE (” Man I’d like to place my hand upon your fuckin’ sexy ass and squeezeAnd sQUEEZE-”). But really, just give his ass a good squeeze and he’ll be sporting a semi real quick. Or kiss the back of his neck. Grip his hips. Be a little dominant, basically.
O=Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)I’ve said it before. He’s wicked at going down on his partner. He’s a messy eater, and he’ll spend forever between his partner’s legs. His tongue is evil. Pure evil. A god at tormenting. He does like getting head. He has more than a few videos saved (with consent!) of a partner going down on him. He’ll tangle a hand in their hair and guide them… He loves it. Especially in RISKY PLACES.
V=Volume (How loud are they, what sounds they make)Okay. He isn’t loud, but he isn’t silent. He gives a lot of dirty talk, tbh. So, he does talk- but his moans are beautiful. Deep, rumbling, growling moans that tear free. He gets more vocal near the end, more whines and keens. If he bottoms, he’s a “hide his face in the pillows” bottom, who will keen and moan very, very loudly.
X=X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, pictures or words)I’m not posting a picture here sorry.Aether’s… Large. Ghouls are typically bigger than humans, but Aether is just. He’s packing some heat, lemme tell ya. Bordering on 9.5″ length wise, with a HEARTY girth of 6″, it’s a stretch. He’s big. He’s thicc. He knows what he’s packing. It’s why he always preps his partner WELL.
Y=Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)Not as high as you’d think. Sure, he’ll gladly take a sibling or Ghoul up on an offer for some fun times any time, but he isn’t a horn dog. He’ll be fine with having sex only two-three times a week. He’ll survive. Unless he’s in a heat, and then… Well. Three-four days of pure torture.
B,C,D,F,H, and J for Copia for the ask thingy (sorry if I put too many, you don't need to do all of them)
B=Body Part
On him, he's quite fond of his thighs. He knows they're nice, and they're sensitive, and he loves it when his partner just grabs onto them, digging their nails in. On his partner, he's a hips kinda guy. He likes grabbing and holding, or watching their hips swing when they walk... Yeah. That's his shit.
C=Cum
OH BOY. He likes to release on their chest or face. It's dirty, it's degrading, and fills him with a sort of pride to see his mark on them- before that Catholic guilt washes over him.
D=Dirty Secret
Confessional Booth. A Sibling (or Ghoul) on their knees, servicing him while someone is on the other side, confessing to him.
BONUS: He'd love to sit there and guide a Sibling through their orgasm. What a way to confess one's sins.
F=Favorite Position
Let the Cardinal hit it from the back. He'll bend his partner over ANYTHING nd just gonto town.
H=Hair
He's got a dusting of chest hair; he keeps things nice and trimmed below the belt. The carpet indeed matches the drapes.
J=Jack Off
He masturbates often- he has a lot of pent up sexual frustration. But he likes to do it in the evenings, before taking a hot shower and going to bed. He'll tease himself, get himself real worked up, before even considering letting himself cum.
This is Mild Spice™, just a little drabble between Cirrus & Swiss, based loosely on some lore I'm working on. But yeah. Things get a lil' steamy, and I can't cut this on mobile so. Enjoy?
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He shifted, his head tilting back against the soft pillows. Her room smelled of lavender and spices, the bed a lovely four poster with sheer, light blue fabric hanging from the bars along the top. It almost resembled a cage, he noted- though, he knew well those bars were not just for show. His gaze drifted to the left, where the Ghoulette sat on the edge of the bed.
She'd let her hair down, the black hood and silver mask set aside. Long, deep brown tresses flowed across her back, curling near the ends. Idle fingers reached out, brushing through the soft tresses. He watched a shudder run through her, her head raising.
"Pretty pathetic, right?" Swiss mused, lips quirking upwards in a humorless smile.
"No." Cirrus shook her head, turning around to face him. "It isn't. You were used by men and women to complete jobs they didn't have the guts to. And you're still here." She reached out and cupped his cheeks. A mere fifteen minutes ago, they'd been tear-stained and flushed. He leaned into the touch, trilling softly. "You're alive. You've survived. I remember those days. I remember seeing you and-... And her coming back, bloodied but laughing, high off the thrill of it." She rose onto her knees, her black satin nightgown rising to show thighs that he knew, very well, could choke a man out. "I miss that laughter. You were once so happy, Nomos," a gasp left him, eyes widening at the sound of his true name.
She shuffled closer as he sat up, cupping both cheeks now. She leaned in, a low rumble of a purr filling the air. "Let me take that pain away?" Cirrus asked, lips hovering over his own. A whine left him, the urge to submit washing over him like a tidal wave. He closed the distance, claiming her lips in a kiss she immediately took over, forked tongue snaking out to trace along his lips. He gasped, lips parting, and their tongues met, brushing against each other.
His hands came to rest on the tops of her thighs, clawed fingers pressing into the smooth skin repeatedly. Her scent invaded his sense- cold winter winds. She pulled back, and he followed, rising up- only for a hand to press down on his chest, holding him in place. She pressed harder, and slowly, he fell back upon the bed, watching as she climbed atop his lap, settling down with a pleased murmur. Cirrus was beautiful in a wicked way; high cheekbones, sharp steel-gray eyes that held a hint of gold within, framed by long, dark lashes. Full lips that she liked to paint a deep red, and a surprisingly feminine jawline.
She was every bit a lioness, and he was her prey.
Wordlessly, her hands drifted beneath his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, careful of his horns. Bared before her, his gaze slipped away from hers. "No." She shook her head, frowning. "Eyes on me, Nomos," she murmured before leaning down, tongue sliding out to lick across a twisting scar upon his left bicep. A hellhound had caused that one, he remembered briefly.
"Aquilo," he whispered, gaze trained on her as she continued to kiss and lick every scar she could reach on his upper torso. By the end, he was panting, keening for more, and her hips were sinfully, slowly grinding down. "Aquilo, please-"
"Please, what?" She mused, sitting back up. His fingers gripped her hips, urging her to go faster. She didn't relent, instead reaching up with both hands to wrap around his throat, thumbs resting below his chin, keeping his head up. "Patience, darling. Let me tear you apart," a slow circle of her hips, "allow me to drink deep your pain," her hands squeezed, pulling free a high keen from his throat, "I want to break you down, piece by piece." She leaned down, teeth grazing along a surprisingly sensitive nipple. "Will you let me?"
He squeezed his eyes shut as she waited for an answer. He could feel her purring- could feel how wet she already was, soaking through her silk panties and his own sweatpants. Finally, he swallowed roughly. "Please- please tear me apart. Help me feel again, Aquilo."
He felt her lips spread into a wicked grin; she felt his pulse jump in his neck.
"On the bed." Ashley stated simply as they entered her bedroom in her apartment; her place was the closest rather than drive all the way back to Nockfell.
"... What?" Larry asked, brow raising as he looked between her and Sal. "Did you mean Sal? I think she meant-"
"Nope." Ashely flashed a wicked grin, crimson lips dark in the low lighting of her bedroom. "On the bed, Johnson." She stepped closer- slowly, with each fall of heel a staccato in the silence- deliberate, like a tiger honing in on it's prey. "Do not," she began, voice low, emerald gaze locked on his own chocolate, "make me repeat myself again, Larry."
Sal grinned from his position beside the closet, having paused halfway to grabbing her box of toys to watch as Larry was thrown out of his element. And thrown he was- his eyes wide, his hands shaking- but there- that twitch of the corner of his lips, the mischief that colored his features. Not too thrown, it seems.
"Make. Me." Larry countered, watching as Ashley's lips parted, a smart retort no doubt on the tip of her tongue before they closed, curling into a smirk. The next moment, he was shoved back, falling onto her bed, her heel pressed to his goin, pressing. "Didn't take you for a brat." A glance towards Sal. "I'll have fun making you scream for me tonight."
"They'll hear," she protested weakly as Larry pulled her closer, hands gripping her hips hard enough she knew there would be bruises come morning.
"Point being?" Larry replied, lips tracing a burning path down her neck, smirking as she squirmed in his grasp. The xanny wasn't too strong- but it was enough. Everything seemed slower. Or maybe everything was slower. He couldn't tell.
Didn't care, either. Not as her hands undid his belt with expert precision, not as his hands drifted lower to grip her thighs, hoisting her up with little effort, her legs wrapping around his waist.
"Working at the garage really did good for your biceps," she commented idly as he settled her onto the edge of the sink.
"Aw, babe! I'm glad you noticed!"
"You're gonna give me whiplash with how quick you go from dirty to innocent."
"Good." He lowered himself to his knees, watching as her eyes widened. "Cover your mouth. You don't want Sal or Ash to hear, right?" He asked as his hands slowly crept upwards, tracing over tanned, toned thighs slowly, watching as a shiver danced through her. From down here, he could see up the skirt of her dress easily- could see just how much he'd affected her already.
