Mushy May Day 16: Cooking A Special Recipe

Why be such a tease?

Papa Emeritus IV finally takes a Prime Mover.

As with all Prime Movers, they are to dress in a black habit, a wimple with two points to represent the devil's horns, and a black opaque veil.

His Prime Mover is seen everywhere with him, though by tradition, he is only affectionate with them in private. The most he does is hold their hand in public, or rest his hand on their back.

Little does the Clergy know that Copia's Prime Mover is actually a ghoul.

DAMN YOU ALL REALLY LIKED THAT LITTLE DEWTHER KIT DRABBLE HUH

I’m so glad because I haven’t stopped thinking about Pearl. I’m literally figuring out lore and a design for her as we speak. Im making her a whole ass oc and you WILL be subjected to her :3

Worry Me, Worry You

[Dew is sick Swiss has some feelings about it. Contains discussion of being sick both in the sense of being unwell as well as in the physical sense. A fair bit of angst with a mild resolution at the end.] Below the cut.

When Dew gets sick, It starts with a weakness in his fingers, an inability to grip things in his hand without it feeling... off.

His muscles and joints feel loose and wrong, so he clenches his fists tighter, strains and tires himself without realizing until he can't manage simple tasks anymore.

His hands shake, and his sight goes to static at the edges, save for a strange, drifting clear spot in his vision, that has a filminess to it like a soap bubble without the rainbow sheen.

The pain doesn't set in right away, but the inability to focus his vision, combined by the sudden loss of his fine motor tells him it's only a matter of time before it does.

So when his hand refuses to close around the pen he's been using to scribble down notes with, he knows something's wrong... and he needs to deal with it before someone sees him.

Dew wets his lips, grateful to have caught things in the early stages, before his stomach has a chance to turn, before he feels that familiar numbness in the back of his throat...

He drops the pen onto the desk and closes his eyes, trying to strategize how exactly he's going to make it from his desk to his on suite bathroom without jostling himself too much.

He only needs to make it ten feet.

Why does that seem so far away now?

With great difficulty, Dew stands on unsure feet for only a moment before feeling lightheaded and dizzy.

"Shit." he staggers uncoordinatedly in one spot before carefully lowering himself to the ground, knees pressing into the hardwood, and crawls to the bathroom instead.

He can barely reach the handle from the floor, but when he does, the door refuses to budge, and Dew bumps against it weakly with his shoulder, accidentally knocking his head and wincing.

He really needs to get this thing fucking fixed.

His head and the damned door.

Dew grunts awkwardly, smacking his hand uselessly against the flat surface.

It doesn't even make a sound when his hand slaps it, looks more like he's drunkenly petting it if anything.

Fuck.

His eyes water, clouding his already hazy vision as the pain starts to really set in.

It's like someone stabbing him repeatedly in the head with a metal fork, but lifting each time to scrape against the insides of his skull, and the only thing he can think to do is press his face to the floor and hope it's cold enough to soothe the persistent pulsing in his brain.

He tries to breathe normally, keep himself from clenching his jaw, but it's hard.

His body feels impossibly heavy.

He shivers.

Across the room, he can hear his phone buzzing.

Someone's calling him, but he just closes his eyes, trying to block out the noise.

It's not easy, and the grating sound of it rattling against the desktop feels like a knife in his ear, but, eventually, he's more focused on keeping his stomach settled and his head cooled that he's too out of it to realize his bedroom door is opening.

.

.

.

When Dew opens his eyes again, he's in his bed, bundled up in a sweatshirt too big to be his own, propped up on his side by a pillow wedged under his back, and a blanket covering him from the waist down, so his legs stay warm, but ensuring that his tender stomach stays relatively cooler.

A cold compress falls from his neck as he lifts his head, looking around the room tiredly.

He's dully aware of two things as he comes back to himself.

His mouth tastes like... peppermint.

Whoever put him here also brushed his teeth, and...

There's a distinct smell of artificial lemons in the air, like the floor cleaner they use specifically for the wood floors when there's been a spill so it doesn't leave a stain.

He tries not to think about what the person needed to clean up besides, ya know, him.

Dew sniffs again, but something about the action causes a fleck of spit to go down the wrong tube, and he lets out a little cough, which quickly turns into a groan as the muscles in his abdomen contract.

"Ah, you're awake."

Dew makes a small, befuddled noise in the back of his throat, followed by a weary chirp when he sees Rain walk into the room, smiling at him.

Dew drags himself up into a sitting position, and Rain is quick to rearrange his pillows to keep him upright.

"...Did you clean up my... the mess?" he croaks, his throat feels painfully dry, "Ow..."

"Mm-mm." Rain shakes his head, uncapping a water bottle and handing it to Dew.

"Nah, that was Swiss, he's the one who found you on the floor. Said he was coming to show you something stupid he bought and... yeah."

Dew tries to lift the bottle to drink, but his hands are too shaky and he spills a little down the front of his shirt, pouting.

Seeing his predicament, Rain steadies the bottle enough for Dew to drink a few good sips of water before taking it back and setting it on the nightstand beside the bed, "Better?"

"Mn..." he clicks his tongue, "I feel like... a rock... a rock made of shit."

"That's... I have no idea if feeling like a coprolite is better or worse than you felt before, but I'm going to assume that means you're feeling... relatively okay?"

"Ehn." Dew shrugs, "...my head doesn't hurt anymore, but my stomach's being a bitch..."

"Do you think you're going to throw up again?" Rain asks, worriedly eyeing the bathroom door.

"No... it's just sore now." he says, sinking back into the pillows, looking around the room curiously, "...Where'd Swiss go?"

"To take a shower." Rain says, glancing at the floor.

Ah.

"...'m sorry." Dew mumbles and Rain just smiles sadly and pets his hair.

"If you want to apologize to properly, you've gotta rest up and get better, okay?"

Dew nods, purring sleepily as Rain scratches around his horns.

"Any idea what made you sick?" Rain asks and Dew shrugs.

"Mn, migraine maybe... dunno..." he tugs at his shirt, "...Whose is this? Is this a unicorn riding a... riding a motorcyle, what?"

"It's Cirrus'."

Dew pinches his eyes shut and grumbles, "How many of you saw me all... gross and shit?"

There's a brief pause of consideration before Rain responds.

"Uh... When Swiss found you, he kind of shouted and..."

Dew covers his face with his hands.

"...Fuuuck..."

"We didn't know what was happening and-" Rain cuts himself off, watching tears dribble down Dew's chin, "Dew? Dew, does something hurt?"

"'m fuckin' embarrassed, what the fuck..." he whines, turning away from Rain and smushing his face into the pillow.

"Dew, it's-"

"'s'not okay..." Dew mumbles, "...I don't even remember what happened between being on the floor and now, and you all... that's fuckin' stupid."

"How's it stupid?"

"...I'm stupid. This is stupid-"

"Dew-"

"-My body's fucking stupid!" Dew cries, whipping around and throwing the pillows off his bed in a fit, flopping back down only to kick the sheets off as well, sniffling angrily when they refuse to untangle from around his legs.

"I'm a fuckin' demon! I'm supposed to be tougher than this!"

"Dew." Rain says a bit more firmly, grabbing his knees, forcing his legs to still, "Dew, I know it's upsetting, but we've got this, yeah? We're gonna take care of you."

"I don't want that..." Dew wipes his eyes with the sleeve of Cirrus' sweatshirt, "Don't want it..."

"Don't want us to take care of you or..." Rain tries, lowering his voice.

"Don't want..." Dew rolls onto his side again, "...I don't... I don't like..."

Rain tilts his head and waits.

"...I don't..." he can't finish the sentence.

He doesn't even know how he's supposed to articulate what he's feeling right now aside from sick.

His brain feels like pudding and all he can keep thinking about is how all of them...

...All of them...

"...Don't like it when you see me... see me like that..." he says finally, picking at the mattress, "Just leave me on the floor next time, pretend you didn't notice-"

The door creaks open and Swiss enters with his arms crossed.

"You... you know we can't do that, right?" he scoffs, holding his hand up when Dew opens his mouth to argue, "Sorry, baby boy, but I... we don't like seeing you suffer as much as you seem to want to hide it, so, like, no."

Dew hisses, but feels the fight leaving him when Rain sends him a sympathetic look and kneads his shoulder soothingly.

Swiss enters the room fully and shuts the door part way, leaving it ajar, before sitting down on the end of his bed, just out of kicking range in case Dew throws another tantrum.

"...This is fucking humiliating..." Dew huffs, staring daggers at his ceiling fan.

"Which part? Your sweet new sleep shirt curtesy of Cirrus, or the fact that we all love you so much we wouldn't let you lie on the floor in agony?"

Dew tilts his head down to look at the shirt again.

"...The latter."

He does have to admit he likes the design, but that's not the point.

"Well, too bad. We love ya, and you're going to have to get used to that." Swiss teases, "But, really, dude... We were really worried."

Rain nods.

"I would have been fine..." Dew whispers, "Not my first rodeo with this shit, so..."

"And you know that's more concerning, right?" Swiss points out, "Cause here's the thing; I don't care if you don't care about your own wellbeing, I mean, I fucking DO because you should care, but that's not even... What I'm trying to say is, if you're not doing well, you can tell us, you know that, yeah?"

Dew frowns, returning to glaring at his ceiling.

"Dew..." Swiss sighs, "I..."

He takes a deep breath and leans forward to hold his hand.

"Have any of us... ever made you feel like it isn't safe to talk about this stuff?" he asks.

"...No."

"But, do you... feel like it's not safe to talk about it?"

Dew doesn't answer right away, but when he does, his voice wobbles a bit.

"Yeahh..."

Rain returns to petting Dew's hair, "We've got you."

Swiss gives his hand a reassuring squeeze.

At some point, Dew falls back asleep.

His dreams are nightmarish and provide little to no respite.

.

.

.

When Dew wakes, Rain is gone, but Swiss is lounging on his bed beside him scrolling through his phone, and Dew angles his head to take a peek at his screen.

"...Is that a dog or a cat?" he asks, his words a bit slurred from the way he's squished.

Swiss startles and almost drops his phone, "Jesus!"

He places a hand on his chest.

"I thought you were asleep!"

"I was." Dew mumbles, "...And now I'm awake."

"Thank you for the rundown, Captain Obvious.... Geez... You're scaring me a lot today, you know that?" Swiss pinches Dew's cheek and gives it a pull.

"Aughh diiidnth meean tooahh..." Dew says, "...'m thorry."

Swiss lets go of his face and sets his phone off to the side.

"You really did though." he says, ruffling Dew's hair, "I got scared seeing you on the ground like that, I didn't know what to do, and if... if something..."

He shakes his head.

"Actually, let's talk about that later, when you're better... How're you feeling now that you've slept some more?"

Dew yawns, "Weirdly more tired..."

Swiss snorts, "Yeah?"

"Yeah..." Dew wriggles closer to Swiss, looping his arm around his midsection and bumping his head against his chest.

"Whatcha doin' there, bud?"

"Lay down." Dew nudges him, "Sleep."

"Well, since you asked so politely..."

Dew lets Swiss go in order for him to get settled, resting his head on the pillow beside his.

"I'm still upset with you." Swiss informs him, but still allows Dew to snuggle up against his side, "...Glad you're not dead though."

"You thought I died?"

Swiss hums.

"You weren't responding when I called your name or shook you, so... yeah... yeah, I did." he says, resting his chin on top of Dew's head, "Aeth came running, made sure that... that you weren't... ya know."

"...Ah..."

"I..." Swiss swallows, voice cracking, "...Everybody was scared, but then you woke up! And we got you to answer some questions, and then... then you..."

"What did I do?" Dew asks nervously.

"You, uh, you... it was like the meme... You were just standing there, like dumbfounded about it, and meanwhile I'm over here like, 'BRO'..."

"This clears up nothing."

"You ruined my crocs."

"Oh. Ohhh..."

"Yeah."

They sit in silence for a moment while Dew processes this new information.

"...In hindsight, that's... that's at least a little funny." he says, "...Who brushed my teeth?"

"Oh that was Aeth and Rainy, they had a hell of a time getting into your bathroom, so they took you to Cirrus' room and got you all cleaned up. That's where we got the shirt and the shorts."

Dew lifts the blankets and stares.

Pink with white polka dots... what kind of cursed wardrobe is Cirrus hiding in her bedroom?

"After that, Mount made some weird tea and made you drink it, which, like, I don't know what was in that stuff-"

"Peppermint and chamomile with a sprinkling of ginger and two ibuprofen on the side!" Mountain calls from the other side of the wall.

Swiss blinks, "Damn the walls in this place are thin..."

"Anyway, you drank, like, two cups of that and zonked out, and that's about it. Still embarrassed?"

"Little bit... Less now that I know what happened... that's the scariest part." Dew confesses, "...It's the idea that something happened and I don't remember, but other people do, combined with... I dunno, not being able to stop it from happening to begin with..."

"Well... maybe a trip to the doctor is in order to help with that last part." Swiss says, rubbing Dew's back, "...Hey?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, Dewboy."

"Love you, too."

"We all love each other, now go to bed already, some of us are trying to sleep!" Cirrus chimes in from across the hallway, sending a pillow through the open door.

"You're all ruining the moment!" Swiss complains.

"If everyone is awake right now, can someone get me a glass of water?" Sunny inquires.

"Didn't I already get you-"

Swiss gets up and closes the door.

"Bedtime?" he asks.

"Bedtime." Dew confirms, holding his arms out for Swiss to collapse back into.

Mushy May Day 15: Painting On Each Other

Cirrus kills some time waiting for band practice with Swiss

Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together, and to @ghuleh-recs for the divider <3

is this one a stretch to fit the prompt? yes

The worst part of practice, Cirrus decides, are the sectionals. Where Papa splits the pack into groups by instrument, works with them one by one while the rest of them are meant to practice quietly while they wait.

Papa's working with the rhythm section, Mountain and Rain helping him get Aeon up to speed. Which is all fine and good, they've got a tour coming up, but it's been twenty minutes and Cirrus is bored. She's tired of practicing her individual parts, there are no massive changes to the setlist from the last leg, she knows them like the back of her hand.

Her gaze drifts to Swiss's podium, the multighoul sitting and letting his long legs dangle off of the edge. His guitar's in his lap, a pretty black thing, all shiny and curves. His fingers are moving, playing something that's decidedly not one of the setlist songs. Every once in a while, Papa glances back from the other side of the practice room, and Cirrus watches as his fingers change chords without a moment's notice into something more familiar.

Cirrus sighs and hits the power button on her keyboard, hopping down from her podium. She hauls herself up to sit next to Swiss on his.

He doesn't turn, a flash of gold as he looks at her from the corner of his eye. Swiss doesn't stop playing. "Hiya, whisp," he whispers, fingers still moving softly over the strings. "Bored?"

"Mhm," she hums, feather tipped tail swaying behind her as she watches as Aeon stumbles over a difficult section. Their face furrows in concentration, determined to get better. "Kid needs this, but damn, I don't miss struggling like that."

"They're not struggling, they're getting there," Swiss says, fingers never stopping. It's a sweet melody, easy to listen to, pleasant on Cirrus's ears.

"I mean, I really can't say much about they're doing, I've never touched a guitar in my life," Cirrus jokes, knocking her shoulder gently against Swiss's. His tail bats at her as his fingers slip, a sour note ringing out.

"Knock it off," he laughs, cheeks dimpled with his signature grin. Cirrus rolls her eyes, but there's no heat in it.

The sectionals drag on, Papa still working with Mountain, Aeon, and Rain. Cirrus pulls a pair of pens from her pocket, ones she's supposed to have to make notes in her sheet music, but she knows everything front to back after all of the tours she has under her belt. She only really has them for the formality of it.

Swiss, ever incapable of sitting completely still when he's at ease, sways his tail behind him, the spade tip padding against Cirrus's side. It's pierced several times, gold rings threaded through along one edge, glinting in the light. It curls loosely around Cirrus's wrist, and she glances up at him.

He isn't paying attention, and Cirrus hums along to his playing as she puts the silver pen back in her pocket, uncapping the gold. She brings the tip of the pen to the spade of his tail and Swiss yelps. He wasn't expecting anything touching his tail, especially not something as wet and cold as the ink.

They both freeze, Mountain and Copia glancing over at them before turning back to the sectional.

"What are you doing?" Swiss whispers, tail still wound around Cirrus's wrist.

She shrugs, her grey eyes meeting his. "Bored. Sorry, should have asked."

His lips quirk up in a smile. "I mean, knock yourself out, you just startled me."

Cirrus gives him a little purr, leaning in to rub her temple against his shoulder before she starts to draw. Nothing fancy or complicated, simple geometric patterns that span over both sides of spade of his tail, shiny gold ink that matches the hoops threaded through his piercings.

Swiss watches out of the corner of his eye, still playing softly, fingers on the strings. "'S pretty," he hums, keeping his tail as still as possible to give her an easier time, feeling the drag of the pen nib over his skin. He lets her draw until Copia finishes the rhythm sectional, and she scrambles back to her platform for her own turn.

He wears her designs on his tail for the rest of the day, admiring the way the ink looks in the light.

MUSHY MAY 2024

Prompts from the awesome @forlorn-crows

I'm really late to the party for day 13 (see my name for reasons 🤷‍♀️), but I've repurposed a oneshot I wrote for the 'Just Wanted to Hear Your Voice' prompt.

Dew and Aether

Phone sex

NSFW 18+

Around 2k words

Dew is away on business helping Terzo and has been teasing his mate Aether with selfies all day.

Thanks again for the divider @ghuleh-recs

Read below and check out my other Mushy May chapters on AO3 here

Reblogs are very much appreciated, please and thank you 🖤

Aether's phone vibrated in the pocket of his uniform jacket and he studiously ignored it. He knew who it would be.

Swiss glanced over at him and smirked. The two of them were out in the city on business with Papa who was currently in an important meeting. Aether and Swiss were acting as his bodyguard bookends.

Throughout the day, Dew had been sending Aether pictures. They’d started off innocently enough. Dew and Mountain were accompanying Terzo on a trip to conduct some Clergy business in Greenland. The messages had kicked off with scenic selfies or interesting things that they’d seen on their travels. As the day had gone on though, the selfies had become a little bit more... intimate.

Swiss had figured out something was up and he’d been studying Aether's reactions every time the phone vibrated. He could tell that the multi ghoul was itching to say something about it. Papa was too engrossed in his meeting to notice, thankfully.

It was almost dinnertime and the meeting finally began to wrap up. Aether was glad they would be heading home soon because his head was starting to throb with the energy he’d used being in the human world. Humans in larger numbers were extremely draining to his quintessential self.

They got settled in the car and Swiss began the drive back to the Abbey. Aether was in the back with Papa.

“Are you going to check your messages, Aether?” Swiss said with a shit eating grin. Aether glanced up and met his eyes in the rear-view mirror. He scowled and just about managed to stop the growl that rose up. “It might be something important,” the multi ghoul said with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“It can wait,” Aether snarled.

He felt Papa’s eyes on him.

“He is right. It could be important,” Papa said, oblivious to the situation.

"It's fine, Papa," he said, feeling his annoyance rising.

Aether sank down into his seat, muttering under his breath. He turned towards the window and tried to think of something other than the bathroom mirror selfie that Dew had sent him just after lunch. He’d had his shirt pulled up, holding it between his fangs to show off his lean stomach. The hand not holding his phone had been inside his pants. The caption had read:

Prepping for later...

Viewing that picture was the moment that Aether had realised he was going to have to ignore his mate’s messages for the rest of his shift because he would have been next to useless to Papa otherwise.

He and Dew had scheduled a video call for later once Terzo and the ghouls had settled at the small abbey they were staying at.

Aether went through the motions once he was dismissed for the evening, getting changed out of his uniform and into a pair of loose blue pyjama pants. It was warm in the lair so he left his shirt off. He ate dinner with the others and then they went their separate ways.

He settled down on his bed, leaning on the pillows propped up against the wooden headboard, legs stretched out and ankles crossed.

Aether grabbed his phone and finally opened the messenger app, smirking as he scrolled through the chat. The further down he went, the more risqué the pictures became. There were a couple from the bathroom of the plane, teasing shots of bare flesh. A few more from the room he’d been allocated, the room that for some reason seemed to have an abundance of mirrors which Dew had taken full advantage of.

Another message flashed up on the screen, swiftly followed by a short video and Aether barked out a laugh.

Been too busy to play today? Pity. I see you watching me. Have had to take matters into my own hands...

The video panned over a series of polaroids that had been laid out on top of the covers of the bed in Dew's temporary room. All of them were of Aether and every single one of them was absolutely obscene.

Aether fired off his own message.

Some late night art? A little too crude for my tastes, but the subject is pretty.

The green camera icon lit up and Aether answered the call. He grinned when Dew’s face appeared, a mock frown creasing his brow.

“Well I didn’t know you were so highbrow, Aeth. I would have chosen something more classy for my travel wank bank if I’d realised. I thought you were into smut. And keep your hands off that pretty ghoul. He is mine,” he growled. "Actually, second thoughts, maybe you should use your hands on him."

Aether laughed and Dew grinned back at him.

“It’s nice to see your face, Dew. I was getting a little bored of looking at your abs.”

Dew snorted and he shifted position.

“You missed me really. How was your day?”

The screen pixelated and then froze. Aether thought the call would drop but it came back to life again.

“Bad signal?” Aether asked. Dew rolled his eyes and nodded. “It would have been okay if I hadn’t been distracted all day. But I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Poor baby,” Dew said, mischief sparking in his eyes. “Did my holiday snaps make you lose your concentration?”

Aether sighed.

“Maybe.”

Dew frowned when he heard the weariness in Aether’s voice.

“What time is it there?” he asked.

“Just after nine.”

“It’s after midnight here. The others are asleep.”

The screen froze again and the call finally dropped. Aether cursed but almost immediately got an incoming call from a foreign number. He answered.

“Relying on the old fashioned technology, huh?”

Dew laughed down the line, husky and quiet.

“Apparently so.” He sighed and Aether heard him shifting position. He must have been sitting on his bed too. “Anyway, what are you wearing?”

Aether snorted.

“Not much.”

“Send me a pic.”

“More fuel for your wank bank?” he said dryly.

“Humour me.” Aether stretched out his arm and took a selfie, sending it to Dee's phone. The other ghoul chuckled after a moment when it finally came through. "Ugh the internet is so slow here. Oh, I like those pants. Do you know what would make them better though?”

Aether heard the sounds of fabric rustling and Dew hissed. He smirked, knowing exactly what Dew was doing and the semi that he’d had since he’d opened up their chat turned to a raging hard on when he pictured it.

“No, Dew, what would make them better?”

“If you came in them like a horny little teenager.”

“And how exactly am I going to accomplish that, Dew?” Aether said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sure I can guide you through it. Maybe if you do exactly as I say, the next picture I get will be messier.”

Aether huffed a breath and Dew took in a shaky one.

“What are you doing, Dewdrop? It sounds like you’re struggling a bit with something there.”

“That would be telling,” he said. “Put the phone on speaker.” Aether did as he was told and put it down on the bedside table. “Now, those hands? Put them to good use. I want you to trail them over your skin. One of them is going to touch your body the way I touch it. You’re going to imagine that’s my hand and my claws raking along your torso. You’re going to be gentle and you’re going to be slow.”

Aether put his right hand on his neck, tilting his head to the side and stroking the skin reverently, fingers trailing along his jaw and down the column of his throat.

“What about my other hand, Dew?” he asked hoarsely.

Dewdrop chuckled down the phone.

“I want that other hand inside those pants and wrapped around that fat cock of yours.”

“So demanding,” Aether said as he trailed his left hand down over his scarred pectoral.

He skimmed over his abs and his hip, sliding his fingers under the waistband of the loose pyjama pants.

He closed his eyes and sighed when his hand closed around his cock. It was throbbing in time to his heart by now and he gripped it, giving it a long, lazy stroke.

“Tell me what it feels like,” Dew said.

Aether concentrated on the feel of his calloused palm against his velvety flesh. He groaned as he twisted his fist around the head and then moved it back down again to the base a few times.

“So fucking good,” he breathed out.

“Where’s that other hand?” Dew said shortly.

Aether was circling his nipple with his claws right then and he moved his hand to stroke along the skin of his stomach.

“On my stomach, stroking. Feels nice.”

Dew hummed his approval, breath coming out heavier now, pants and groans coming through the phone.

“I can’t wait too much longer. You need to hurry up. Grip yourself tighter. Imagine it’s me, imagine my fangs on your skin as I’m stroking you.” Aether took a shuddering breath and it hitched as he pictured Dew doing just that. He bit his bottom lip and a little snarl escaped him. “Oh yeah, like that. Make yourself feel good, so fucking good.” Dew gasped and made the whining sound that he often did when he was about to lose it. Aether could feel himself getting closer to the edge by now too, sweat had broken out on his skin and his heels dug into the covers below him. He groaned again. “Put that other hand to better use.” Dew’s voice was strained now, barely above a whisper. “Use it on your balls. Squeeze them, do it the way I do.”

Aether did as Dew said and reached inside the pants, left hand working himself faster. He was almost there, but when he grabbed his balls with his right hand and squeezed, hard, the effect was instant. It tipped him right over. He gritted his teeth in a snarl and arched his back, ropes of cum pulsing out of him as he worked himself through it.

Through the pounding of blood in his ears he heard Dewdrop snarl as he finished himself off also. He heard his name on the other ghoul’s lips and he huffed out a breath as he came back down to earth.

“Fuck,” he gasped, chuckling when he glanced down at himself and saw the wet patch at the front of the flannel.

He really did feel like a horny teenager.

Aether shifted back onto his elbows, tipping his head back and looking up at the ceiling.

“I need that picture now,” Dew's voice cut through his post orgasmic haze.

He sounded wrecked.

Aether grabbed his phone and took another selfie, the same position as the one before.

He hit send and sighed.

“Happy?”

It took a moment but Dew groaned.

“Look at that. Dirty boy. I love it.”

Dew cursed under his breath and the sound of a door opening drifted out of the phone.

“Fucking hell, Dew, can you keep it down?” Mountain's gruff, sleep addled voice cut through. “Oh my fucking Satan! What the fuck, Dew? I need to bleach my fucking eyeballs!”

Dewdrop was cackling and Aether could only imagine the scene that Mountain had just walked into. Dew, naked on his bed, cock probably still in his hand and surrounded by his private collection of pictures of Aether. He snorted a laugh and heard the door slamming.

“Maybe you should fucking knock first, Mountain!” Dew yelled after him. He sighed heavily and Aether yawned. “I should let you rest. I could hear how tired you were just before. Has Papa given you the day off tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m going to sleep in. I think I feel the need to take some arty photographs during the day though,” he said with a grin.

Dewdrop laughed and the sound gave Aether peace.

“Well, I look forward to seeing your creative side. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow so I’ll be sure to sneak a peek when I can.”

“Good night, Dewdrop,” Aether said sleepily.

“Night, sweet. Love you,” Dew said. “Oh, by the way, leave those pants on to sleep in. I want you reminded of me as soon as you wake up. Make sure you mess them up again in the morning.”

Aether chuckled.

“You’re such a filthy little shit, Dew.”

“I know," he said unashamedly. "You love it.”

He hung up and Aether grinned. He couldn’t wait until Dew was back. He had some things in mind to repay the favour already.

Ghost Live @ Strasbourg

Photo: Alva IG: @shameless_ghoul

The Nameless Ghouls Official Ghost Cult.

#TNGofficial #13thAnniversary

(totally copy and pasted that from the book of faces

Copia military jacket, that's it that's the post

How in the actual fuck did that happen? Why?

Tying The Knot

[Get your head out of the gutter, this one is actually a wholesome one. RainDrop.] Below the cut.

The day he met Dew, the ghoul had been a stiff breeze away from crumbling away, shaking like a leaf as he tried to remain on his feet.

He'd learn much later the reason; That he'd fought tooth and nail to keep his packmate from tearing him apart in a rage, and that the shiver, that terrible, persistent tremble of his body, was it trying to stay upright.

At the time, Rain had not seen the hand splayed across his back -a sister of sin steadying him-, had not seen the way Terzo had eyed him from across the room, the last remnant of his old pack, barely holding onto life, but alive.

More than anything, the thing Rain noticed about Dew was that he was alive.

Were it not for the raspy hiss of his breathing, it would have been easy to liken him to a corpse.

It had bothered him for so long, the idea that Dew had been forced out of bed to witness not only his summoning, but that of the others, who poured out of the pit, half feral and lost, snapping at anyone who got close, but he hadn't been.

This had been an indulgence.

Dew wanted to see them.

And when coal black eyes gazed upon them all; Rain could feel him staring through them, through him.

It was then that Rain knew Dew was a creature born of spite, of persistence...

He remembers his first approach.

Unfazed by the chatter of teeth or swipe of claws.

With his fingers dipped in a mixture of ash and blood, he aided in anointing them all, and, now, when he sees Dew in his robes during one of Copia's sermons, it's all he can think of.

Dew stands now at the head of the chapel, back to him, long white hair tied back into a careful braid, the one Rain remembers practicing late at night.

It's done in a style from the pit, the kind you have to learn from an elder, impossible to find on youtube, even if similar patterns exist.

His hands twitch, wanting to drag through the strands and tug it loose, to undo all his hard work in a single pull, because if he knew how seeing him like this would make him feel, he'd never had tied those knots in the first place.

Each cross is a promise, woven to remind the wearer they are loved.

Rain watches the little ribbon he tied to secure the braid in place peek out; A bright, joyous red that contrasts heavily against Dew's pale hair.

Bolder than he thought it would be, and now Rain can feel eyes on him from among the pews.

His packmates know they didn't tie that ribbon, and all of them know such an intricate braid could not be done by Dew's hands alone, no matter how skilled he may be with his fingers.

Rain swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

It's...

It's a little too obvious what he's saying with all of this.

He's embarrassed, yes, but more than that...

He's nervous that Dew won't understand the meaning of this gesture.

Dew may be a ghoul like the rest of them, but, much like Swiss -who was born and raised on the surface- he has no memories of the pit.

The soul inhabiting his vessel is a mix.

An even blend of demon and man, but his consciousness solely belongs to the entity that lived topside.

He doesn't understand their culture.

Let alone the niche courting habits of an oceanic subspecies of water ghoul like Rain's.

At best, Dew thinks it's just a cool hairstyle.

At worst, he thinks it's lame or weird, or-

"Rain." a shockingly gentle voice calls to him, and when he looks up...

Dew looks down at him, standing above his seated form, his expression softer than he's seen it in a long time.

"You look terribly sad for a man who's just proposed."

Rain stutters, covering his face with his hands, looking as if he's about to burst.

"...You knew?"

"I guessed based on how much you were sweating while tying my hair back." he replies teasingly, "And Mist told me, ages ago. Not about you doing this, but about the practice in general."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

Rain tucks his head between his knees.

"Are you okay??"

"...Gimme a year to recover before you tell me yes or no, I don't think my heart can take it."

Dew grins.

"If I say 'yes' will you die on the spot, or-"

"Can y'all be mushy somewhere else, it's putting me off Papa's sermon about pre-martial sex." Cirrus groans, "Congrats, but also, fuck off!"

"Boo! Boo, Cirrus! Ruining our moment..." Dew sticks his tongue out

"...The sermon was about sex? Was he for or against it??" Aeon frets, "I wasn't listening!"

Everyone turns to the other ghoul, frowning.

"W-What??"

"Do we look like Christians to you-"

Ghost dropping Satanized and the skeleton orgy grucifix in the era of heavy-handed censorship and purity culture that demands everything be as sanitized and "appropriate" as possible really is such a fucking breath of fresh air. Time to glorify and glamorize the obscene and disgusting (or whatever their profile said last week).