#Service Sub Aeon gets taken care of

[iamthecomet]

comet oh my god going off of that last free use phantom thing... if inspiration strikes I would love LOVE to see some of phantom laying back and being totally taken care of by the whole pack, them all surrounding him, hands and tails everywhere until he cant tell who is doing what anymore and is just totally relaxed

UH HUH.

Service sub Aeon deserves to be taken care of.

Aeon's drifting. Mis-matched eyes open. Unfocused. The exposed ceiling beams swimming in front of him. Hazy figures dipping in and out of his periphery. A flash of golden hair, deep purple eyes, opalescent horns.

He's narrowed down to sensation. To touch. All other senses on the back burner. He isn't even sure who is touching him where. Whose tail is curled around his thigh holding him open and exposed. Whose tongue is pressed against his fluttering hole. Licking up over the seam of his balls. Over the base of his cock. And back down to press into his stretched rim.

He's soft now. Over sensitive. He's belly sticky with his own cum. His cock twitches though, valiantly. He'll be hard again in no time. Part of him wants to push away--he's had so much. He's so fucked out. The other part is desperate for it. Wants more. Wants to be swallowed whole.

He thinks he's in Cumulus' lap. Head resting on the swell of her breasts. He thinks her hands are the ones dragging over his nipples. But maybe that's Aurora. Maybe it's both of them. There is a tail curled around each of his biceps. Gentle. Not restraining. Just solid enough to keep him from trying to do too much. He thinks one of them might be Mountain's, but really it's just a guess.

Satanas, he doesn't know anything anymore.

Someone kisses him. Rain, judging by the taste. Tongue slipping into his mouth, cool and easy. Aeon opens for him, drinks him down like he's dying of thirst and Rain trills above him. Pressing one cool hand against his cheek as Aeon surges toward him, reaches up, begs for more.

"Easy, baby," Cirrus coos in his ear--over to his left. "Just lay back."

Aeon eases back, drops his head back into the hollow of Cumulus' throat. Someone drags a hand down his stomach, circles his cock into a calloused palm and he jolts.

Whining. Body begging him to lean into it--to pull away. Each stroke is electric. Too much. Pleasure zapping through his veins and he can't take it. He can't think about anything else. Hips bucking up into the hand as he fills out, hardens up.

Someone, Swiss, he thinks, whistles like he's impressed. "Still going, huh?"

Aeon nods, eager. He slams his eyes shut as another pair of hands widens his thighs. The tongue that's been fucking into him slips out, moves away. Aeon whines at the loss--but it's shortlived. Replaced by the fat head of a cock that he's pretty sure is Aether. Too fat to be anyone else's.

"You ready, baby?" Aether for sure. Reaching up to brush hair out of Aeon's eyes. "You've done so good for us today. Let me take care of you?"

Aeon cracks his eyes open. Finally forces them to focus on Aether looming between his legs. Cheeks flushed, eyes focused on Aeon.

Aeon swallows, tries to find words. "Y-yeah. Yes please."

After a day of doing everything that was asked of him--asking for something feels wrong. Like he's stepped out of line. But the collar he wore all day is long gone, and Aether just pushes in inch by slow inch. Watching Aeon's face for the first sign that he's had too much.

He has had too much, he thinks. He's had all of them at least once. He's been pinned between nine other bodies for what feels like hours. When Aether pushes in, there's no stretch, no burn. Thoroughly used. Aether groans low, a rumble that Aeon swears he feels in his bones.

"Still so fucking tight."

"Right?" Dew says from somewhere on Aeon's right. "Don't know how he does it."

"Magic," Sunshine offers from his other side. Whatever Dew says next is cut off by another groan from Aether as he fucks into Aeon. Giving in to hard deep thrusts that Aeon feels in his throat.

"Can't help it," Aether says, almost apologetic. "Too fucking good."

"Give it to me," Aeon begs, voice canting up with each word. "I can take it. Please, Aeth."

Aether smiles down at him. He pushes down, deepens the fold of Aeon's body until he's almost in half. Dislodging whoever's hand (Mountains?) was on his cock. It doesn't matter anyway--he'll cum like this. They all know it.

The next thrust makes Aeon wail.

Aether kisses him on the forehead, soft and sweet in contrast to the way he's railing him.

"Don't worry, baby. I know you can."

[iamthecomet]

Hi Comet!!!

I loved your Service Sub Aeon headcanons. Do you have any more hcs about it? I just keep reading your post over and over. It's beautiful <3

- @cirrus-ghoulette

Oh absolutely! I have LOTS if thoughts and hcs.

Aeon does his best to make sure everyone gets equal attention. Sometimes this mean they make a schedule over breakfast. As Aeon is getting coffees and making eggs. The others are talking it out. Aeon doesn't make his schedule. They do.

They talk about him like he isn't in the room. Like he's a tool they're all need to use at some point during the day. Sometimes he pays attention. Knows who wants him and when. Sometimes he doesn't.

Sometimes he'll be helping Mountain in the greenhouse and he'll look up to find Dew standing inside the door. Arms crossed. Waiting.

He likes that the best. The fake spontaneity of it. He does t want to know what they want of him until they ask. Doesn't need to know that Dew needs his boots shined. Or that Copia needs an under the desk distraction while he does paper work.

He's gotten really good at ordinary tasks. Best at boot maintenance. Immaculate nail painting skills. Perfect French braids every time.

He's usually hazy by noon. Brain filled with delicious static. Focused only on the ghoul in front of him. What they want. What they need. He ends the day floating. Sitting on the floor in front of the couch. His head leaned against the nearest thigh while hands pet through his hair, over his horns.

The sounds of empty popcorn bowls and ice rattling around in empty cups have him moving. Refilling. Making more popcorn. Tail flicking happily with each task he does without being asked.

And when it's done. And someone unbuckles his collar and he's pulled into the embrace of his pack, they take care of him. Anything he wants. Fingers dug into sore muscles. A bowl of popcorn all to himself. Praises cooed into his ears about how good he is for them. How they appreciated all of his help all day.

Hands dragging down his body to where he's been half hard for most of the day. Fingers dipping below his waist band as he's told to just lay back and let himself be taken care of.

It's the least they can do.