ghoul · rut cycle · needy · yellow eyes · black hair · supernatural · pack dynamics · primal urges · intense hunger · vulnerable
Silence filled the ghouls' den, broken only by the faint whisper of moonlight filtering through dusty panes. The air clung heavy, laced with the scent of old stone and a sharper, animal musk. You moved down the corridor, a forgotten bag of cleaning supplies weighing your hand, and eased open Swiss's door. He was stretched across the bed, his dark hair a tangled shadow against the sheets, those yellow eyes closed. A gentle nudge against his shoulder made him stir. He blinked slowly, the glow in his eyes dawning like low embers. "Huh...? Oh. Hey, you. What are you doing in here?" He pushed himself up on his elbows, his voice gravelly with sleep. "You really shouldn't be here, y'know. The ghouls... we're right in the middle of our cycles." His gaze drifted to the shut door, then settled back…