Some Soft And Afkdjjs Dewther For @miasmaghoul ♥♥♥

I just realized that many many people have jobs

Rb with your job, wtf do you people do while offline???

their combined powers were too great. he never stood a chance. rip king.

Mushy may prompt list by the wonderful @forlorn-crows

Day 20: gardening

I was sad and this image came to me so here we are. Also the last prompt I'm doing for this one, it was fun 🖤

Mountain/Dew a touch of angst from Dew but he's ok

Dew nervously twists the toe of his shoe in the loose little pebbles of the path just outside of the greenhouse. It feels weird, like standing in front of a shell of a home he used to live in, like a ghost keeping to the shadows, hoping to not be caught so it's allowed to stay.

This used to be his favorite place, one of the first he got comfortable in after he was summoned. He couldn't count the hours he spent down here with Mountain, smiling, laughter dissolving into make outs and rosy cheeks. They are memories he doesn't think about often, his shadow in the images bleeding into Rain's shape, seeing him fit so perfectly where Dew once had.

He doesn't regret his transition but there were losses all the same. This one stings though, a nagging little papercut that persists no matter how much time passes.

He loved this place. He loved Mountain in this place, he loved how he had Mountain in this place, just the two of them.

Nothing was stopping him from going down, not really. Nothing apart from his own mind, how it flashed with flames when he thought of going in, how he worried to touch the plants he used to help nourish, terrified he'd burn their little leaves to ash. Afraid he'd do the same to Mountain.

He knew it was stupid. He'd been with Mountain countless times since the transition but there is something about the greenhouse that feels like he just....can't cross that line he drew in the sand.

"Dew?"

He jumps at Mountain's voice, so lost in his own thoughts he hadn't heard him opening the door and wandering out partially. His hands are dirty and Dew misses the grit against his skin when Mount would guide him through repotting a little sprout.

"Sorry...shit sorry I just I'm...I'm-"

"Coming in this time?" He sounds hopeful, painfully so and when Dew risks it all and meets his eyes they're bright, almost begging without words.

He glances between the giant and the glass structure behind him, the warm air inside and the dim little fairy lights inviting...

"I..."

"S'ok." Mountain smiles, just a little thing, reaching his hand out as he backs into the greenhouse.

He takes a hesitant step forward, like maybe the earth outside the entrance is boobie trapped for him. He grabs Mountain's hand with his breath and heartbeat both trapped in his throat when Mountain tugs him softly over the threshold.

It all floods back to him. The smells, the humid air, the way Mountain feels different here.

"Take your time." Mountain doesn't drop his hand but he doesn't pin him with his eyes either, focusing instead on some little bunch of flowers that still have little drops of water clinging to their delicate petals.

He thinks of Rain, thinks of his gentle touch, thinks of his own hands and how much he loved this, how Mountain would smile just for him and he would turn to face him like a little bloom chasing the sun.

"I shouldn't...I shouldn't be in here."

"Why?"

"It's just not mine anymore. I can't give them anything." He clears his throat hoping his words don't shake. "It's Rain's now."

Mountain tilts his head, his ears drooping a bit. "Do you know the very first thing Rain does every single time he's in here?"

And obviously he doesn't! He shakes his head and Mountain grabs his hand, pulling him off to plants that are thriving along one of the walls.

"He comes to these because you planted them. Out of everything in here, these are his favorite because you took care of them."

"But-"

"No but. You've never not belonged here. I understand why you stopped, why maybe it felt different but different doesn't mean wrong, it certainly never meant unwelcome."

Dew wants to turn into Mountain's chest but he doesn't, his hands shake as he lets the words sink in as his eyes stay glued to the plants he had loved so much because Mount had taught him how.

"I know the things you think about yourself Dew." He squeezes his fingers, pulls his knuckles up to kiss them. "I know what you're afraid these hands will do, but I know them. I know you."

Dew let's himself look at his hands and he knows he knows how to be gentle, how to touch with softness and care. He loves more often than he bruises but the fear still simmers just under his skin that one day he will lose control of what he is and he will be helpless to stop it.

"Come here, I want to show you something."

Dew let's Mountain lead him off, cocking his head when the giant stops in front of a bed of succulents.

"Is this your way of calling me a prick?" His lips twitch with the possibility of a smile.

Mountain laughs and shakes his head, the tension easing off his face. "No you ding dong!"

Dews glad for the distraction, the laughter between them standing here feels so familiar and he hadn't fully realized just how much he actually missed it.

"I started growing them after your transition. I...I needed something that felt like you in here, I needed something to show you..."

"Show me what?"

"That you don't need your water to be beautiful." His eyes drift from one of the little cactus flowers just starting to bloom among the spikes it sits on to Dew's eyes.

Dew lifts up onto his toes and kisses him. Mountain's big dirty hands slot against his back perfectly, fitting just right the way they always did. Hes dizzy with the memories, a welcome sort of deja vu as he melts against Mountain.

Mountain smiles when they break apart, fingers brushing Dew's hair back, cheeks pink.

"Welcome back, droplet."

Because the struggle is real

The world needs more Terzo smoking weed !!! 🤠

1.1k words of terzo smoking weed AND being hot

“You are not leaving the party so soon, are you, sister?”

Your head swivels in the direction of the familiar voice only to be met with the new Cardinal, leaning against the stone wall with a joint hanging out of his mouth. He hasn’t been what you were expecting — the other Emeritus brothers were far more reserved yet driven while Terzo is… well, the exact opposite. Outgoing yet aloof. And devastatingly handsome. He seemed young despite only being three months younger than Secondo.

“Feeling a little too sleepy for the rave going on in there right now. Does that make me lame?” You're half joking but also half really asking and you manage to sound somewhat flirty.

“No. That’s exactly why I’m out here. To enjoy the fresh air and quiet of the night.” Terzo plucks the joint from his lips and offers it to you, giving you a sly grin. “Do you smoke?”

You hesitate for a moment but end up taking it from his fingers, brushing his gloves ever so slightly and bringing it to your lips and taking a drag. Coughs sputter from your lips but you manage to exhale deeply.

“Not often, as you can see.” You smile weakly as you hold it out for him though he catches your hand in his. A leather thumb runs over your knuckles, using his other hand to take the joint back. Your eyes meet, his white eye sparkling with such mischief that it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Well, thank you for joining me.” He bows his head and kisses the back of your hand. So formal for the sharing of a joint. You lean against the wall beside him, growing quiet as the weed starts to hit. After what feels like a half hour (actual time: 8 minutes) you wiggle your fingers and realize he’s been holding your hand the entire time. Bashful eyes dart over to him, his own gaze settled somewhere off into the distance.

The moonlight illuminates his side profile, a heavy brow giving way to weary eyes, a strong nose and plump lips all framed with slick black hair. You become oddly fascinated with his wrinkles, starting with the laugh lines near his eyes. At that point he looks at you, then does a double take to see that you’re staring.

“U-uh… “ Your eyes widen. “I’m… I’m very high, Cardinal.” A giggle bubbles up your throat and you cover your mouth with your hands, unable to fight back a smile.

“Molto bene.” Terzo squeezes your hand, tilting his head to get a better look of you. “Your giggles, they are cute.”

Oh, no.

You’ve heard of his flirtatious nature, to which you originally scoffed at. But now his charms are directed at you and you feel it, the allure that radiates from his entire being.

“What is your name?”

You babble your name to him, unable to look away from his mismatched gaze than shines against the black paint around his eyes. Terzo repeats it, rolling off his tongue with ease. He’s giving you his undivided attention and it’s almost overwhelming, leaning further into you so that you can feel his soft breath on your cheeks. It’s so hard to focus with him this close to you now.

"You look beautiful under this moonlight," Terzo whispers, his fingers gently drifting along your jaw. The intensity of his gaze and the softness of his touch leave you breathless. You can't help but blush from his compliment and a veeeeery awkward laugh slips from your lips. He breaks out in a wide smile, eyes crinkling and it’s over.

You don’t know who made the first move but you’re now clutching onto his cassock as you moan into his mouth. Smoke clings to his tongue. Terzo’s gloved hand moves to hold the back of your head, fingers weaving into your hair. You melt against him, no thoughts in your head except how soft his lips are. Sighs and quiet moans pass between your lips, joining together as he deepens the kiss. He takes it slow, his tongue savoring your taste, opening you up gradually to him until he’s devouring you.

“Let me walk you back to your room.” Low and seductive before he nibbles on your bottom lip. You nod and he whisks you away, his fingers lacing tightly with yours. You are so high but he’s keeping you from the point of no return with the way he somehow avoids walking in a straight line, distracting you with a comfortable goofiness. You wonder if his limbs are just made of spaghetti. The walk takes a turn when he backs you up against your door and leers over you, a wicked expression on his face. But he only kisses your forehead. Tease.

You turn the knob behind you and back yourself into the room, Terzo’s arms looped around you lazily as you guide him to your bed.

“Cozy ragazza.” He purrs into your ear, his fingers slipping underneath the hem of your shirt. The backs of your knees hit the edge of your bed and he takes advantage, guiding you onto your back as he peels your shirt off. Bare back hits the bed and his warm mouth is already kissing up your stomach. You sink into the mattress, lips parted and eyes falling shut, mewling from the heat of it all. Terzo’s mouth closes around one of your nipples, teeth and tongue working it inside his mouth, sucking as his other hand squeezes your side. A moan rumbles up your chest, body aching beneath him but your eyes grow heavy.

Your thoughts wander as you run your fingers through his soft locks, thinking about nothing in particular except for how good it feels to have his hands on you. Gentle touches, warming up your body but the combination leads you to become more and more relaxed.

Until your eyes close.

Your eyes blink open and you wipe the drool from your mouth with the back of your hand. Oh no. Oh no. You fell asleep. Limbs twitch into action but you’re stopped from jumping out of bed by a weight on your chest.

…

A black mop is lying on your breasts.

Terzo is fast asleep and snoring, his arms curled around your waist and holding you close to him. You exhale slowly and relax in his arms, worried thoughts expelled and your focus shifting back toward how tired you are. Eyes glance back down at him for one moment and just by watching his body rise and fall with each breath you are soothed to sleep once more.

Pressing Matters

Marge the Cleaning Lady tells the others what she saw.

(Part of the Light a Candle 'verse)

It was too crowded, too noisy, and too smoky for his taste. He couldn’t even remember why he agreed to this in the first place, especially since there were more pressing matters on his mind at the moment. Oh, right, band obligations and all that. The ever-present fans. Granted, it is not nearly as crazy as it was back in the heyday, but still, the ever-pressing crush of the devoted was enough to wear thin on the patience of even the most unflappable. Sometimes he would like to just be able to walk into a bar and order a pint and be able to enjoy it in peace. ‘Yeah right,’ he thought to himself, ‘those days are long gone.’

Scanning the room as he raised the glass to his lips, he only half listened to the conversation droning on around him. There. There she was. She pushed a long strand of chestnut hair behind her ear as she leaned in to better hear the conversation of the person with her. Whatever they were talking about must have been amusing for a smile lit up her features. Taking another drink, he continued to watch the woman.

Emma had the distinct feeling of being watched, even in the crowded room. She finished up her conversation with the keyboard player and moved off. She could still feel his eyes on her as she made her way to the bar. She leaned back against the bar, sipping on the glass of wine she had ordered. He was still watching her. His dark brown eyes never left her face even as he raised his glass to his lips. The ring on his finger caught her attention and a wicked smile broke across her face.

Roger had just raised his glass to his lips when the woman across the room said something to him.

“I’m not wearing any underclothes,” silently she mouthed to him from across the room.

Emma knew actually what she was doing. She knew that years behind the drum kit had allowed him to read her lips and to ‘hear’ her as if she was standing next to him. She raised an eyebrow and waited for his response.

Roger choked on the drink he just took.

“Hey, man! You alright?” John asked as he pounded Roger on the back in an attempt to help his friend.

“I’d be better if you would stop beating on me,” he replied. “Excuse me. I have something to attend to.”

“Yeah, sure man. Whatever.” The words were said to Roger’s retreating back. John just shook his head and turned back to the conversation at hand.

He met her halfway across the room.

“You are a very naughty girl.”

“Do you really care?” She asked as she leaned in, her lips against his ear. “How long do you think it would be before they noticed we were missing?” She whispered before he felt the pointed tip of her tongue delicately tracing the outline of his ear.

Roger pulled back and searched her face. He was surprised at this turn of events for Emma was not one really big on public displays.

“Well, how long?” She asked again.

He looked at her, a smile crossing his face.

“Long enough,” he replied, taking her hand and leading her from the bar. He didn’t even acknowledge Simon when the other man tried to gain their attention.

“Wonder where they are in a rush to.”

“Simon leave them be. They are still newlywed. You remember what that was like, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah baby,” Simon answered his wife, his eyes glazing over at the thought.

**~~**

The taxi ride back to the hotel was the longest one in Roger’s life. It was all he could do to keep from throwing her down on the seat and having his way with her. ‘Be a hell of a show for the cab driver,’ he thought as his hand slowly inched its way up her leg. He was determined to see if what she had said at the bar was true or not. He leaned in and she felt his feathery kisses along her collarbone.

“Stop,” she moaned as his calloused fingers blazed a trail toward her center. “Roger, stop.” She gasped as she felt his warm tongue on her neck.

“Why?”

“We do have an audience,” she said breathlessly, motioning towards the cab driver.

“What?”

“Cab driver.”

Roger’s head popped up from where he had been tracing his initials on the soft skin of her neck. “Damn, forgot about him for a moment.”

Roger caught the gaze of the cabbie in the rearview mirror. It was clear by the smirk on the driver’s face that he had not missed much of what had been going on in the back seat of his ride.

The couple was saved from any further embarrassment as they finally reached their destination. Roger thrust a handful of bills at the cabbie, not caring that he had just paid the man what equaled to several fares. The driver counted the money as the couple raced up the steps to the hotel and shook his head as they disappeared through the revolving doors.

“Ah, to be in love,” he said as he put the yellow car into drive and merged back into the oncoming traffic.

**~~**

Marge had worked for the hotel for well over forty years and had thought she had seen it all. That was until she rounded the corner on the sixteenth floor. There, against the doorway to one of the rooms was a couple so tightly pressed together that one could not tell who was who. The man looked old enough to know better and the woman looked young enough not to care. As she cleared her throat, the man dropped the woman’s leg he had been holding against him. The woman only squeaked out “Roger!” as she hid her flaming face against the lapel of the man’s jacket, and he had the audacity to grin at Marge as he reached around his companion and unlocked the door. The door shut with a quiet click, blocking the two lovers from further prying eyes.

“Why, I’ve never seen such,” the housekeeper recounted to her friends around the break room table. “And to top it off…as I passed that room, there was a thump against the door and I could hear giggles coming from the other side of that door. Shameless, I tell you.”

Marge’s co-workers could only gossip over their coffee and cigarettes. At least this job was never boring…

Limelight

Rating: E

Pairing: Aether/Dew

Summary: Aether and Dew see the ghovie (gone sexual). Contains handjobs, semi-public play, teasing, hand kink and quintessence fuckery.

(Also contains mentions of Rite Here Rite Now concert footage ONLY - no spoilers!)

"I feel ridiculous," Dew grumbles, tapping the toe of his boot against the dingy theater carpet. The lobby is bustling, filled with people of all ages in Ghost shirts, face paint and costumes. Dew tugs at his jacket, restless.

"Why?" Aether strokes the back of his hand with his thumb. "I thought you were excited to see the finished product?"

Dew mumbles something as they move up in line, eyeballing the concessions menu. Nearby, a pair of young girls giggle as they take a selfie with their creepy little plush Copias in front of the Rite Here Rite Now poster.

"Looks like you aren't the other one, either," Aether chuckles, elbowing Dew gently. The little ghoul rolls his eyes.

"Just...feels weird," Dew shrugs, grabbing a packet of Sour Patch Kids from the display stand. "Seeing it all...y'know." He gestures vaguely with their joined hands and Aether gives him a nod.

"You're gonna be on the big screen, baby boy," he says with a grin, looping an arm around his shoulders, and Dew frowns in a very stern sort of way.

"Get me these," he grumbles, tossing his candy onto the counter as they step up. "And a blue Icee. Large." Aether chuffs as he pulls out his wallet, rattling off things to the scrawny kid behind the till. "And nachos. With extra jalapeños."

Aether gives him a look.

"How much do you think the infirmary pays me, Dew?"

"Ugh, fine," he says with another exaggerated eye roll. "A medium Icee."

Aether pinches the tendon on the inside of his wrist and Dew kicks him in the shin. Aether shakes his head with a sigh, but he can't hide his smitten grin.

They gather up the pile of snacks - large Icee included - and make their way to the theater. It's a decent space, with reclining seats and extra chilly air conditioning. It's only about half full with five minutes til showtime, but Dew doesn't mind a smaller crowd. Their seats are great, in the back with empites on each side and in front, and Dew crosses his fingers that it stays that way. He sets down his things, shrugs off his jacket and lays it over it lap when he sits.

"How are you not cold?" Aether shivers, sitting on his hands. "It's frigid in here."

"You know I run hot," Dew shrugs, reclining his seat and crossing his ankles as he settles in. He grabs his box of nachos and scoops up a glob of impossibly yellow cheese and pickled jalapeño. "Plus, this way I can use it as a blanket if I want to."

Dew pops the chip into his mouth and demonstrates while he munches, crossing his legs and pulling the jacket up to cover his chest. He makes a tah-dah gesture and Aether smiles, leaning over to swipe a little smear of cheese from his bottom lip.

"Whatever works, I guess," he says, licking his thumb clean. He grimaces. "That tastes like spicy, salty plastic."

"I know, isn't it great?"

Dew uncovers himself and settles in again, stretching his legs and covering his lap. He takes a sip of his Icee and grand the box again, tucking in while the theater lights start to dim. That same wiggly feeling he'd had in the lobby hits again and Dew sighs, fidgeting with the loose edge of a patch on his jacket.

"This really feels weird," he breathes, and Aether reaches over to hold his hand again.

"Relax, Dew," he murmurs, lacing their fingers together. "You're gonna be just fine."

The last thing Dew sees before the lights go down is the glint of Aether's golden tooth, and he struggles to swallow the lump in his throat as the screen flickers to life.

The first time he appears, Aether audibly gasps, and Dew can't explain the way it males him feel. He shoves another chip in his mouth and decides not to think about it.

Twenty minutes and three bouts of brainfreeze later, though, his snacks are gone and Dew finds himself with no further distractions. Seeing himself - well, all of them really, but especially himself - up on that screen is doing things to his insides he can't quite explain. There's a certain level of queasiness in play, though who's to say how much of that is from watching himself play in stunning definition and how much is impending heartburn.

He squirms in his seat and tries very hard not to focus on the mistakes he catches. Tiny things he's sure no one else can see or hear - obviously, judging by the people dancing in their seats - but he sure can. He watches his fingers fly over the frets and wishes he had arched his back a little bit more in that shot. Stupid things he shouldn't give a shit about, and yet can't help but focus on. This is exactly what he was worried about when Aether suggested this outing.

Aether, on the other hand, seems to be struggling for other reasons entirely.

Dew can hear how heavy his breathing has gotten, can feel where his palm has gotten sweaty where their hands are joined. Not from the warmth of connection, but a clamminess that speaks of stress. Dew keeps looking at him from the corner of his eye, every time he hears a huff of breath or a sigh he's sure Aether thinks he's hiding, but the other ghoul's eyes remain locked on the screen. Dew's sure that if he were to lay his head on Aether's chest his heart would be racing. After one particularly harsh sigh Dew finally gives in. He focuses and reaches down the invisible link between their minds, nudging himself up against Aether's consciousness.

You okay, big guy?

Dew squeezes his hand and Aether visibly sags, shoulders slumping and legs falling apart in the reclined seat. Even in the dark, Dew can make out the bulge that movement reveals.

Oh, he slips into Aether's mind, not entirely on purpose, and the other ghoul lets out a quiet groan.

Look at you up there, Dew. Aether's reply carries rich warmth, the kind that soothes the nerves. The tone is worshipful, like Aether's borne witness to something spectacular. Fuck, just look at you.

The screen cuts to a close up of him as if on cue, fingers effortlessly gliding over his strings, and Dew's attention shifts to their joined hands. Aether's stroking his thumb over the most prominent vein on the back of his strumming hand, tracing it with effortless precision. A motion he's done a thousand times over, but one that feels so different with the starved way he's watching the screen.

He doesn't fight it when Aether pulls his hand into his lap, and his eyelids flutter when he feels just how hard Aether's gotten in his jeans. His own cock gives an interested twitch as he rubs at that sizable bulge, feeling it pulse against his palm. He doesn't say a word as he shrugs off Aether's grip, but he does roll his eyes when Aether whines into his head.

Two seconds, he says, scooting as close to Aether as he can in his seat. He pulls his jacket from his lap and lays it over Aether's instead, sneaking that clever hand back under to fondle him again. There, that's better.

Aether's mouth drops open when Dew gives him a squeeze, gripping his armrests so hard they creak. His eyes never leave the screen, though. Not even when Dew's elegant fingers start fiddling with his zipper. Not tugging it down, not yet, just dragging a nail over the teeth and loving the way it makes Aether flinch.

You're really worked up, aren't you?

He can't hide the twinge of surprise the thought carries, a curious inflection pushed into Aether's clearly distracted mind. He knows Aether loves to watch him play - always the one to tag along with him for midnight practice sessions and sunrise acoustic sets whenever sleep eludes him. And every time, no matter how many years pass, Dew would find Aether staring at his hands. Fixated on the control Dew prides himself on, focused on the way his skilled fingers danced over the neck and strummed out the most complex riffs with what looked like no effort at all. Aether would always rub his hands afterwards, massaging in just a hint of quintessence to help relieve hours of soreness.

Dew would reciprocate with a little rubbing of his own, of course. He's nothing if not a gentleman.

Still, though, seeing Aether fall apart so very rapidly over the sight of him on that screen comes as a surprise. He isn't one to show his cards like this, usually able to hold a straight face through damn near anything. Dew knows, he's seen it - Aether remains the only one unfazed by Aeon's puppy eyes, no matter how much the kid tries. That's proof enough of his stoicism.

And yet.

It's different. The words float into his mind, wobbly and unsure. Like Aether's really struggling to form coherent thoughts. It's...it's so much different like this.

They're the last words Aether manages before Dew feels the connection between their minds falter. He's pretty sure that's his own fault, given the way he's started massaging Aether through his ever tightening jeans, but it makes Dew chuckle under his breath. He refocuses on that link as he leans closer, until he can rest his head on Aether's bicep.

I'll take your word for it. Aether throbs against his palm and Dew groans low in his throat. Fuck, you're really hard aren't you?

"Shit," the other ghoul hisses, harsh, and a girl two rows down turns to glare at them. Aether shrinks a bit in his seat, and Dew is absolutely delighted.

None of that, he scolds, popping the button under his fingers. If you can't keep quiet, I'm not gonna be able to help you. Don't you want me to help you?

Dew tugs the zipper down and sees Aether bite his lip hard enough to draw blood when he reaches inside. It's damn near impossible to keep his own pleasured groan when he finally gets a hand on Aether, finding him stone hard and hot to the touch. He pulls it out, hidden by the jacket, and Aether's head thuds against the back of his seat.

That's what I thought, Dew snickers, and that's all the warning Aether gets before that warm, bony hand starts to stroke.

Dew works him slow, with tight, twisting pulls that make Aether's thighs tremble in seconds. He nuzzles further into Aether's arm while the movie plays on, soaking in his rich cologne and the subtle scent of arousal. There's no urgency in the way he touches Aether, pausing every few downstrokes to get a hand on his balls too. To grope them, weigh them in his palm and really make Aether struggle to keep his eyes open. He manages, but Dew is certain that it's only because of the action on screen. He thumbs over the head and the other ghoul grunts out a curse in ghoulish, a guttural sound that sends a frission of something dark down Dew's spine.

He's too focused on the fine tremors shaking Aether's belly to notice the other ghoul's arm moving, and Dew jolts when a large hand lands heavy on the back of his neck, squeezing. His cock jumps where it sits already chubby and dribbling against his thigh, filling out that much more. He lets a wanton, breathy moan drift into Aether's mind and grins to himself when that hand gets even tighter.

His grin vanishes a second later, when Dew feels a familiar crackle against his skin. He gulps.

U-uh, Aeth -

A sudden rush of quintessence floods his system, pouring into his veins and curling around every last nerve ending. It's like an electric shock of pure pleasure, one that sets his skin on fire and makes his eyes cross, and as his dick pulses hard enough to hurt Dew has no hope of holding in his choked moan.

Thankfully Aether's arm catches most of it, but Dew can't even be bothered to see if anyone else noticed. His hand has gone still on Aether's throbbing cock, pre streaming over his fingers, and he sucks air through his teeth as an aftershock hits. He shudders, pulling back just enough to give his head a useless shake. Anything to clear some of the haze. He looks up at Aether again, and this time he finds the other ghoul staring right at him.

Finish what you started.

It slithers into his head, rough and rasping. Aether's thumb caresses the side of his neck, just shy of his thrumming pulse, and another spark of power shoots through him - one that makes his balls draw up. Dew groans deep in his chest and pushes his face into Aether's arm once more.

That's cheating, he complains, nothing but token protest. Aether's eyes shine even in the dark, sparkling lavender that holds such promise.

Do it and I promise I'll lick you out tonight, Aether rumbles, rocking up into that tight fist, and as the words sink into the folds of his brain Dew whimpers.

He really hopes Aether doesn't hear it.

He doesn't respond, and Aether's attention returns to the screen. His hand still sits on the back of Dew's neck though, holding firm, and Dew wastes no time in picking up where he left off. Aether's stomach visibly clenches when he pauses to rub at the frenulum, and the pulse of want that pounds through him when Aether's forced to bite his knuckles makes Dew's head spin.

He's long since lost track of the movie, occupied entirely with making sure Aether gets everything he needs out of his favorite pair of hands. He doesn't mind - he'll get the highlights later, once he can think with something besides his dick. For now, he dedicates himself to the task at (well, in, really) hand. It only takes a few more practiced twirls of the wrist for Aether's thighs to starts quivering again, and Dew knows he's about to get exactly what he wanted.

Aether curses again, a barely audible grunt, and as his own hands fill the screen once more Dew feels him go even harder.

That's it, he encourages, focusing on the head until Aether's legs go rigid. Let me have it, Aeth, give it all to me.

Aether suddenly turns, burying his face in Dew's hair to muffle his pained groan. Dew relishes every kick of his fat cock as it shoots all over the inside of his jacket, the last of the heavy spurts drooling down his shaft and coating Dew's fingers. The little ghoul works him through it, until he's left spent, sticky and breathless.

"Fuck, Dew," he whispers, barely audible over the pounding music.

Dew hums, pulling back his messy hand and licking it clean while Aether catches his breath. He's still very aware of the hand gripping his neck. It's something of a threat, truth be told - one more pulse of quintessence and he'll be toast. Aether may he able to cum quietly, but Dew? Dew can't keep his mouth shut when it comes to the magickal stuff and they both know it.

Later, if you want, he replies, sneaking his not entirely clean hand between his own legs. Aether's fixated on the screen again already, so he risks giving himself a grope. Rubs at his aching cock through too-tight denim just enough to take some of the edge off. He shivers as a blurt of pre squirts out onto his thigh, and has to stop himself from pushing any further.

He tucks his legs under him and leans into Aether's arm again. The hand on the back of his neck tightens, and for one horrifying moment Dew thinks Aether’s about to make him embarrass himself. Instead, though, Aether moves. Wraps that strong arm around his shoulders and holds him close, and in a lull between songs he leans down to plant a kiss on Dew's temple.

"Told you this would be fun," he murmurs, nosing at the place one of his horns should be. Dew can't help his pleased hum as he leans into it.

"Hate it when you're right," he mumbles, and Aether laughs louder than he probably should. The girl two rows down turns to shush him again and Aether offers her a sheepish wave of apology. They settle in together, leaning against one another while the movie plays on.

If they show you doing your Mummy Dust thing I'm gonna cum again, Aether sends down their link, and Dew doesn't have a name for the noise he makes.

hi moon, i hope you're doing well 💚 i have a ficlet request for you, if it takes your fancy at all

i was wondering if you might be able to write something about regressed aeon/phantom (feel free to use whichever name you prefer !!) being sick with a bad cold or the flu and getting taken care of by dew ? i've got the flu again and all i've been able to think about is dew doting on aeon and keeping them entertained when everything gets a bit too much with their sniffly nose and all their headaches and pains

if it doesn't take your interest though that's completely okay !! 💚

-👻 semi-anonymous mutual tag

I scribbled this quickly so I hope it's ok! I hope you feel better soon, friend 🩷

Cw: sick Phantom, one brief mention of vomit but not in detail, quintessence use, fever, Phantom briefly not understanding an expression and getting scared

Dew knocks twice before pushing into the room. "Phantom do you know where my-oh bug, what happened?"

His entire demeanor shifts when he spots a very upset little Quint crying in the middle of the bed, little fingers twisted in the blanket pooled on their lap.

Big fat tears slide down their red cheeks. "D-Dew...I t'rew up..."

Dew closes the space and holds the back of his hand up against Phantom's forehead. "You're on fire-"

Phantom gasps, eyes wide and the scent of fear fills the air and Dew mentally scolds himself.

"Not actually! It's just a silly saying, it just means you have a fever. I'm sorry I scared you." He kisses the top of their head. "Let me get this cleaned up and we can go see Aether ok?"

"I'm s-sorry...I d-didn't mean to..." They sniffle and bring their knees up to hide their face.

Dew sits carefully on the bed beside them, pulling them against him in a tight hug. "There is nothing to be sorry about. It happens, it's no big deal. The important thing is getting you feeling better."

Dew gets the mess cleaned up and helps Phantom into new jammies, opting for shorts and a t-shirt before wrapping them in a blanket and picking them up gently.

"O-oogie!"

"Oh, we definitely don't want to forget oogie boogie!" He grabs the big stuffy and gets it positioned against his chest so the little ghoul can cling to it and him all at once. "Let's go see if Aether can get you feeling a little better."

He carries them down to the infirmary, rubbing their back softly when they whimper in discomfort, promising they'd feel better soon.

It's not overly busy and Aether turns his attention their way as soon as they enter.

"What's going on?"

Phantom turns to face him, sad purple eyes turned his way. "M-my tummy hurts r-real bad and I h-have a fire!"

Dew can't help but smile a little, though he still feels bad for causing the little Quint any confusion.

Aether gasps. "Oh no! Well let's take care of that, hm? Is it ok for me to touch your forehead?"

They nod weakly and Dew tightens his hold, warming his body to help keep the little ghoul comfortable until Aether works his magic. He watches his hand brush slowly across their forehead and down their little face, feeling the magic that Dew knows so well.

Phantom relaxes in his hold, the tension leaving and having them boneless in Dews arms.

"I broke the fever, unfortunately the rest just needs to run its course but they won't be as uncomfortable now." Aether kisses between phantom's horns. "Get some rest, bat."

"C-can I rest w-with you, Dew?"

"Oczywiście dynia." (Of course, pumpkin) He carries them back to the den, humming while he walks. "Do you want some soup or anything before we go get comfy?"

"Crackers! A-and maybe the b-bubbles that make your t-tummy feel better?"

"That sounds like a good plan. I'm going to set you down for a second so I can get everything."

They nod with a pout, they understand but Dew is warm and comforting and they just want to be close right now. They watch Dew move quickly, grabbing the bunny crackers and the ginger ale, pouring it into Phantom's sippy cup. They squeeze oogie boogie when their tummy turns again.

"Doing ok, bug?"

"Hurts..."

Dew finishes quickly and lifts the little ghoul up again, holding them close to ease the aches in their body. He carries him to his room and he feels Phantom smile against his shoulder. He isn't sure why the littles all like his room so much but he's glad he's able to bring them comfort.

He sets Phantom on the bed. "Get comfy and I'll grab my laptop so we can watch a movie."

Phantom wiggles their way under the blankets, flopping back against the pillows that smell like Dew, holding their stuffy close when their tummy gets upset again.

Dew moves the trashcan to the side of the bed just in case and takes his place up next to Phantom, getting his computer started up while they nestle in as close as they can get to Dew.

"Nightmare or something else?"

"S-scooby please. I-I don't think I can s-sing with Jack right now..."

Dew kisses the top of their head, the sadness in their voice breaking his heart. "We will sing along together once you feel better."

"Will y-you do Sally's p-parts?"

Dew laughs quietly. "You know it, bug!"

Phantom picks Scooby Doo on Zombie island and slowly munches on crackers and sips their ginger ale with their head against Dew's chest. He runs his fingers through their hair and watches their eyes start to get heavy, fighting to stay awake.

"S-sleepy..." They mumble, words slurred from their exhaustion.

"You can sleep. I'm right here."

"But s-scooby..."

"We can watch it again when you wake up."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

Phantom snuggles closer, finally letting their eyes close and their thumb moves up to their mouth.

"Dew?"

"Yeah love?"

"T-thank you for taking c-care of us all t-the time ."

He smiles and kisses their forehead. "That's what I'm here for, I'm happy to do it."

"I love y-you a whole bunch."

"I love you too, even more bunches."

Phantom giggles and nuzzles their face into the side of Dews neck, giving in to sleep, feeling safe and loved as they drift off to sleep the rest of the sick away.

Would you expand on this? Pretty please 🥵🥺

Of course 👀 Sorry it took a bit to respond. Thoughts were thoughting and it kinda ran away with me into a slightly different direction and then I forgot to post before I fell asleep 😂

Context: This video.

Anyway, …incoherent spiciness of the cum play variety under the cut. 

Swiss knows the moment Aether looms over him on stage, jerking the fretboard of his guitar over him, what he really needs. What he has been missing. Why he’s lying here on the stage floor, letting himself writhe under the fleeting burn of the sparks hitting his body. The thought alone has him press the tail end of his Hagstrom into his hardening cock for a moment longer, imagination running wild, before he pulls himself to his feet like nothing happened, turning on his heels to see which side of the stage Aether went to.

 Mind made up. Plan already forming, knowing he has to act fast. Or Dewdrop gets him first.

He can’t let him have it. It’s his. 

He follows Aether with quick steps once he spots him, cuts into his path, and ushers him into the nearest empty room with a determined look that betrays his true intentions. Muttering under his breath that it wasn’t fair to tease him like this and then just walk away. That Aether should know. Ignoring the questioning noises Aether makes in response.

Swiss wastes no time to get on his knees and cup Aether’s full, heavy balls through the sweat-wet fabric of his stage pants, massaging them roughly. His mouth already dropping open at the feeling, a pleased shudder going through him. Anticipating the taste. The smell. How he’ll positively reek of Aether. He whines. 

„Aeth….“

A low, breathy chuckle comes from above him, Aether’s words reaching his ears in the same quality. “That’s how it is? Need me to match your outside with your filthy inside so bad?”

Swiss blinks, slow. His way of stopping himself from looking away. He won‘t get it if he looks away. He has to follow the rules. Then he nods.

“Please” he chokes out, unable to keep the desperation cursing through him out of his tone.  

Aether moves to brush a loc out of Swiss face, thinks about making him wait until they’re back at the hotel when Swiss turns his head just slightly and kisses Aether‘s palm so hopeful, so desperate, eyelashes already uncharacteristically damp and….He just widens his stance. He can’t. Not tonight. 

 „Take what you need, sweetheart”

And Swiss does. His hands fly to the fastenings of Aether’s pants, yanking him closer as he still holds Aether’s heated gaze. Doesn't even look away once when he finally gets them open and drags them down around his thighs, stretching his lips over the tip of that thick cock, tonguing the fat veins at the sides as he feels it fills out in his mouth. Encouraged by Aether’s groans, the hand cupping his cheek

Swiss whimpers when the taste hits, gets stronger with every drop of pre leaking steadily into his mouth. He holds him there, relishes in it, in the stretch, before he fumbles with the golden hooks of his vest,  lets it fall open, and haphazardly rips at the button tab of his dress shirt right after when it takes him too long to get them undone. Impatient and already too single-minded to care. 

He slowly lets Aether’s cock slip from his mouth, keeps jacking him, messy fingers rubbing and pressing into that sweet spot behind his balls while he inches forward until his knees find their place between Aether’s feet, close enough that any pre drips messily onto his belly. His thighs. Nothing shall be wasted.

And Swiss gets lost in the feeling, in the way Aether matches his hand’s rhythm, how he rocks forcefully down against his fingers. Intense. Generous. Giving him what he needs. What he craves. 

Feeling Aether’s balls draw up, he tips his head back and has Aether’s release spill over his chest. His hips jerk forward in abortive little thrusts as white ribbons decorate his warm brown skin. Instantly he frees one hand to smear it around, up to his collarbones and his throat. Gets it pooling on his fingertips to rub it behind his ears. Shiny stray droplets run down his belly, catching in his hair there before he reaches down to spread them with a happy sigh as well.

Aether can only watch as Swiss’ hands roam over his glistening body, eyes closed and mouth gaping, saliva spilling over the corners. Face blissfully slack, with sweet high-pitched sounds accompanying every move as he coats his skin with Aether, a sense of calm washing over him. 

Aether finally lowers himself down in front of Swiss with an elated laugh, his hand coming up to thumb a drop Swiss somehow missed over his nipple, dragging it all the way down until he reaches the waistband of Swiss pants and pops the button out of the hole.

 „Think I missed a spot.“