miasmaghoul

[miasmaghoul]

Well well, I’ve finally sculpted another rézfaszú bagoly (copper penis owl in hungarian, thank you magyar folklore) ((sold!))

[miasmaghoul]

Fandom discourse is boring, I make art for me and my 12 friends I've appointed to spread my word

[miasmaghoul]

if you had life eternal ｡𖦹°‧

[miasmaghoul]

(Different anon) tbf I use character ai for ERPG to avoid the shame that Id get from writing private self insert erotic stories and fanfiction. I absolutely agree with your sentiment i just thought my “situation” was kind of funny

true freedom starts when you let go of your shame and find other horny freaks like you on the internet

[miasmaghoul]

dewther doodles be upon ye

[miasmaghoul]

Feel like society has forgotten the art of dislike. you can just dislike a thing. a person. a ship. a character. a book. why does everything have to become Hatred. why do you need to get other people to Hate with you. why can't you just go blech!!!!!!! and then move on. god i miss living in a society that was comfortable with shades of grey and not existing between extremes

[miasmaghoul]

[miasmaghoul]

what super expensive indulgence would u get for urself if u suddenly came into a bunch of money?? assume all bills/mortgages paid, all friends helped: what treat are u buying just for u?? for me it would be a quilted lambskin chanel bag in iridescent pink

[miasmaghoul]

Hi i have a gun. Please talk more about Swiss covered in blood 🔫

(please observe this post and my tags on it teehee)

warnings for blood, swiss being horny about the prospect of violence (and blood), blood and sweat licking, implications of future rough sex with blood as lube, blood spitting

There's an itch beneath his skin. Deep, burning, eating through sinuous muscle and right down to the bone. An urgency, an awful, aching need that demands something very specific. His blood's set to boil, chest heaving with every breath, heart slamming in time with the pounding drums filling his skull.

Calm down.

The words burst into his mind like fireworks, a rich growl that demands attention. Swiss' whole head twitches as he turns to face Mountain's kit, swaying in place. He's drooling, he can feel it dripping down his chin. Just like he can feel the sweat creeping down his spine. Mountain eyes him from behind his cymbals, whole body moving with the flow of his limbs.

I fuckin' can't.

Swiss bares his teeth when he fires it back, wishing he could run his tongue across sharp fangs instead. His glamour feels so impossibly oppressive when this urge strikes; the ache in his belly telling him to bare tooth and claw, to rip and tear and take -

Well I can smell you from here. Do something before you lose it.

Swiss flinches at the tone the words carry, even if they're only in his head. Mountain's eyes are so sharp behind his mask, demanding, and he doesn't spare Swiss another glance. Watching Rain climb up the center steps now instead while Swiss' insides start eating themselves. He wants to tear Mountain's throat out for it. He manages exactly one step forward.

Later.

A single word, but one that hits like a bus. Swiss sways on the spot.

...what?

You can rip my throat out later.

Mountain's reply is knowing, haughty. His eyes are back on Swiss now, and they glitter in the stage lights like precious gems brimming with mischief.

You think too loud sometimes, he taunts, and Copia will take the damage deposit out of your allowance.

Mountain winks, and just like that his attention is back on the drums.

The entire interaction lasts less than ten seconds, but it leaves Swiss breathless as a marathon. There's gray at the corners of his vision when he sinks to his knees, relishing the burn in his quads when he leans back. He feels drunk, swaying and shaky, every muscle in his torso gone taut in restraint. He chews the inside of his cheek, digs his nails into his palms. Little jolts of pain that shoot straight through him, raise goosebumps through the sweat.

It's not enough to answer the call rippling beneath his skin.

No matter how much he tries to hide his need in the unsubtle sensuality of his movements, it won't pass. Won't ebb or calm, a gnawing so deep in his chest that Swiss swears its about to cave in. He can taste Mountain between his teeth already, earthen iron that will sit heavy on his tongue long after he's feasted. He can picture the marks he'll leave on freckled skin, brutal and gouging and smeared in red.

"Fuck."

Swiss grunts it as he stands, still moving in time with music he doesn't hear. Can't, over the rush of his own blood. Blood. So much blood...

The light glints off Mountain's crash cymbal, off his mask beyond, and Swiss licks his lips.

He takes two steps back.

Mountain doesn't look at him.

He points at the other ghoul with a quivering finger, in case anyone watching had any doubt who his next action was meant for.

Mountain doesn't look at him.

Swiss shakes himself out, rolls his neck. Makes himself take a slow, deep breath. Narrows his focus as Dew and Aether fuck each other with every passing chord in the background. The shrieks of the crowd have long since faded beyond the tick of his earpiece and the ravenous hunger twisting his guts. His face splits into the most devious grin.

Still though, Mountain doesn't look, and oh Swiss burns.

He doesn't think twice before he steps forward, doesn't so much as pause when he draws his arm back on something like reflex.

The only thing more gratifying than the pain of striking that sonorous metal is the way Mountain jumps. Bounces on his stool like a startled little bunny rabbit, rhythm stuttering just enough for Swiss' cock to pulse with pride.

It takes a moment to feel the blood.

He blames being distracted by how wide Mountain's pupils had gone for his ignorance, but once the first droplet falls from his fingertip. Swiss raises his hand, at skin glistening with sweat and now something so much sweeter.

Mountain doesn't look away when Swiss lets his tongue loll out, flexing his fingers in the yellow light flooding the stage. It hides the ruby tint of the liquid trailing down his forearm - a real shame, if you were to ask Swiss. That is, if he had two brain cells left to rub together.

In fairness, Mountain doesn't seem to be faring much better.

Neither of them blink as the tip of Swiss' tongue meets the beaded end of one of those trails, and the taste makes his knees wobble. Iron, ash, sulfur and salt - if Swiss never tasted anything else again, he wouldn't complain. He licks a stripe up his arm, over the bump of his wrist, up to the fresh gash decorating the back of his hand. Every passing inch makes his breath come quicker, makes his mouth water, and Swiss can see the way Mountain's started chewing his lip. Swiss knows he must be hard as a rock just a couple feet away, so hot and filthy with effort that Swiss' balls ache at the thought of his scent alone.

Swiss presses the flat of his tongue to his wound at the same moment the light catches the cymbal again, and in the flash Swiss sees red speckled across the disc's surface. Decorating a drum head.

And, most importantly, two perfect droplets that landed square on Mountain's masked right cheek.

A brilliant series of images flare to life behind his eyes, then.

Of Mountain, ass up and drooling into red-stained sheets. Cheeks rich pink and streaked with tears as Swiss shoves three fingers inside, cock hanging heavy and already leaking onto the blanket below.

Of Swiss straddling him, nails raking down Mountain's back and digging into his hips to get him right where Swiss wants.

Of Swiss leaning down to sink his teeth into a muscled shoulder for a fresh mouthful of crimson ecstasy, while Mountain hisses and gasps and takes it.

Of Swiss seeing himself lean back to look down past his own bloodied chest to his throbbing length. Of trading his fingers for its fat head, nudging insistently against Mountain's woefully underprepared hole. Of his lips parting, of red streaming down, down, down, until it drools over his shaft and unholy fuck if Swiss doesn't get off this fucking stage soon he swears he's gonna rip his own heart out.

Swiss laps at the cut, until the pain becomes too intense, until he simply can't take anymore, and there's an odd calm about him as he reaches out to rap a knuckle against one of Mountain's shields. To make sure he has his full attention.

Just for you.

He spits a mouthful of blood onto the plexiglass, and as Mountain loses his place entirely he can't help but grin.

Swiss hopes there's blood on his teeth when he does.

[miasmaghoul]

Phantoms first general medical check up except Aether won’t stop calling it a vet check up and calling him a good puppy.

[miasmaghoul]

It's important to show that you care. Fuck being nonchalant. Text first, send multiple messages in a row. Tell them what they mean to you, be honest about how you feel. Tell your friends that you love them. Love is a gift that can be given away freely, by anyone and to anyone. Show that you care.

[miasmaghoul]

"he would not fucking say that" but you ever be looking at fanart and suddenly its "he would not fucking have abs"

[miasmaghoul]

Archangel Judith update! There is still so much to do! It‘s quite the challenge but it is also fun! Stay tuned🫶🏻

[miasmaghoul]

bush hips and top scars all in one photo oh my

[miasmaghoul]

at this point i only feel safe in the company of internet perverts . these are like the only people left who you can count on to not let the fascism enter their body when they encounter a weird person

[miasmaghoul]

if they add cenotaph to the setlist i fear i will never stop sobbing

[miasmaghoul]

c: @millopede