Y’all ever hyperfixate so hard you get over a literal decades long fear of being perceived on the internet? No? Just me? Okay. I do post NSFW! 28 | she/her
I’m curious but, why do the older gen ghoul wear head scarfs while the newer ones have hair? Are they bald? Is it just a design? Or you can’t think of a hairstyle for them?
They have hairstyles, but early banana lore established that the Ancients (except Lake) choose to veil for religious reasons. I tag the pictures that show them without veils as “unveiled ghouls”
(Secondo was the only one willing to talk to Air during those early days…)
Cirrus and Cumulus absolutely doted on Aurora. The drama of Cirrus sleeping with Tempest upsets Cumulus cause she thought (assumed) they were exclusive, and betrays Aurora, who wanted to be exclusive with Tempest; it makes the pain of Cirrus’ intentional transgression that much worse. She threw that all away because she purposefully decided to “misunderstand” Aurora and take a bite of Tempest for herself. It’s gonna be a loooong road to repair things.
(i wanna do more masked ghouls, but i really gotta figure out how to make them different so i don’t fall into same face syndrome again…)
Read the sweet and spicy sauce under the cut or on AO3!
Mountain knew his beats so well that he could have done this show in his sleep; which was good because every spare second he got he was watching the spunky little Quint race around the stage in front of him. And he had the perfect view: up high at the back of the stage, looking down on everyone else from his riser; it was the true mountain to him.
Phantom seemed to have more energy than normal. Was it the earlier teasing? Did he think that if he wasted all of his energy now it would make the show go faster somehow? Mountain hoped that the little Bug wasn't too exhausted after the ritual to mess around. But who was he kidding? Phantom was like the band's Energizer Bunny. He never seemed to run out of steam.
When they had finished the encore and subsequent bows—the excitable little Quint squeezing himself in between Rora and Mountain—he practically bounded offstage, lighter than air.
"Mount! Mount! Did you see me? Did you see!" he chirped like an excited kit asking their father if they'd just seen the "trick" they just performed.
"I've been watching you all night, Bug," Mountain smiled placatingly, squeezing Phantom's taped-up fingers in his large ones.
"You have?" The rhythm guitarist's eyes went wide; as if Mountain being one of the few less-mobile Ghouls onstage was some kind of new phenomenon.
"Of course. I've got to keep an eye on all my boys, don't I?" That made Phantom's ears quickly raise and lower. He seemed conflicted. All his boys? Did that mean that Mountain liked Dewdrop and Rain too? He wasn't expecting personalized treatment—he'd been Aether's replacement after all—but he wanted to think that, at least for right now, he was first and foremost in the drummer's affections.
"Especially the more… rambunctious ones." Mountain's hand found one of Phantom's horns and rubbed it soothingly. The Quint instantly started purring, catching himself with a flush of embarrassment as they made their way out to the waiting van.
The ride was dark and secretive as Phantom's hand wandered over to Mountain's side of the seat. He trilled under his breath as the drummer's hand gripped his fingers, rubbing enticing circles into the back of his hand with one calloused thumb.
Phantom tried to look as innocuous as possible as he lingered close to Mountain in the lobby—but not too close. The rugged Earth Ghoul spoke up for them both when he accepted a pair of key cards from the singer, tugging Phantom towards the elevator, with the rhythm guitarist conspicuously holding his duffel bag protectively in front of his torso.
The Quint finally had a chance to relax once they pushed through the door to their room. But only for the briefest moment, before the drummer was guiding him—pulling Phantom onto his lap in one of the comfortable chairs in the makeshift bedroom/living room/office combo that was their hotel room.
The Earth Ghoul undid both of their flys like it was a magic trick, and all Phantom could do was glance down as this rugged, powerful Ghoul pressed their leaking, half-hard shafts together in his rough palm. The Quintessence Ghoul had never been brave enough to ask Mountain to join him in his bed and yet here he was, astride the drummer's broad lap for the second time tonight.
"Mmm- Mount-!" Phantom squeaked, grinding in the Earth Ghoul's lap as Mountain squeezed and stroked them. His shaft was twice as big as the rhythm guitarist's and their comparison made the Quint's mouth water. Phantom mewled and clutched helplessly at Mountain's soft, worn shirt, trying to keep his voice to himself with no avail.
"Gotta be quiet, Bug. The others are trying to rest," Mountain chided slyly, not easing the pressure around their shafts.
"Sorry, I can't he-elp it…" the poor Quint moaned lower as the drummer squeezed his fingers again, swiping up a bead of prejack from the head of Phantom's cock. Mountain was silent and solid, an unmovable force and an immovable object; except when it came to the sweet, innocent rhythm guitarist in his lap.
"Ngh- Mount-" Phantom's voice was a frayed whimper, slipping past his fangs as the drummer's large hand pumped them both languorously. Phantom felt like he was falling over his edge already.
Mountain could smell it just like back in the venue bathroom: like sweet cotton candy tinged with stardust; a tingling across his tongue that was as enticing as it was cloying. And Phantom was reeking deliciously of it like a sex pheromone.
Mountain leaned down to nuzzle the length of the Quint's neck. "You smell delicious Bug. Just a sweet little treat all for me." The drummer's hand sped up as he held the twiggy rhythm guitarist against his broad chest, tilting Phantom backwards in his sturdy grip, feeling the poor thing bucking and humping against his solid length.
"Nngh-! Ohh!"
Mountain didn't even bother to shush him. He was too busy drinking in the little whines and mewls of the adorable Quint spread across his thighs. Phantom's fingers trembled against his chest as he tried to close his legs, but the Earth Ghoul's thighs were broad and spreading his legs wide open.
All he could manage was to curl in on himself as Mountain held him close, groaning in his ear as he spilled across the drummer's knuckles.
"That's it," Mountain was still hard, a sultry chuckle lacing his mouth as he lifted his hand to his lips and sucked his fingers clean. They were still mostly dressed and Phantom was too warm, doubly-flushed with embarrassment.
"I'm sorry, Mount," he began.
"Whatever for?" The Earth Ghoul cocked a thin, sculpted brow as he stood with Phantom still cradled in his arms. He walked towards the bed.
"Because I came and you didn't?" Phantom seemed confused.
Mountain undressed them both and loomed over the small Quint, tugging pillows around the adorable rhythm guitarist.
"Don't worry, Bug. Pretty soon you'll get all of me."
Phantom didn't exactly know what that meant but he could definitely come up with some ideas. He relaxed against the mounded pillows around him, surrounded by the smell of fresh linen and dappled sunlight. Mountain's own heady arousal nearly made him groan as the Earth Ghoul angled his hips up and slid one more pillow under his backside.
The Quint's legs were now propped up on the drummer's broad shoulders as Mountain leaned over him, those large hands cupping the backs of his thighs. The smell of sweet ozone was everywhere as Mountain's mouth drifted down towards the rhythm guitarist's puckered entrance.
Phantom's eyes were glued to the Earth Ghoul's face, Mountain's stormy grey eyes boring into his as he left that first wet lick against the Quintessence Ghoul's entrance. Phantom absolutely keened.
"Nnngh- Mountain!" the rhythm guitarist clutched the pillows with his claws, clenching and moaning as the drummer's skilled mouth and long, insistent tongue lavished him with wave after wave of intense pleasure that had him at full mast almost immediately.
"Haa-ah!" Phantom whimpered, shivering in the Earth Ghoul's strong hold. He didn't think he had a soul, but if he did, Mountain was currently trying to suck it out through his asshole. The drummer's calloused fingers teased against his rim, smearing his slick excitement down his inner thighs as Mountain dug the pads of those digits past the rhythm guitarist's pliant muscles.
"Mount-! Mount-! Oh!" The Quintessence Ghoul's mind was a tangle of lust as two of the drummer's fingers slid into him easily. The stretch was full and complete, the drummer's fingertips brushing something inside of him that made his stomach clench with need. He hadn't had a lot of time to do anything but practice after he was summoned, pouring his whole heart into the instrument they'd placed in his taped-up fingers.
So having this burly Earth Ghoul spreading him open—making him feel something more than overworked and underslept—was a dark dream come true. Phantom's cock blurted another glob of prejack onto his abdomen, chest slick with a sheen of sweat already as the drummer teased a second orgasm out of him.
"Mmm… taste so good, Bug," Mountain murmured, those long fingers plunging in up to the second knuckle, stroking that little bundle of nerves just inside his channel. Phantom groaned and dug his short claws into the pillows, arching up further against the drummer's lapping mouth. What was this?
"Did I find your sweet spot, starlight?" Mountain's words were crooned and sugary, circling the nub of his arousal again, watching Phantom's shaft kick against his stomach. He wanted to touch himself but he felt like if he did all of this pleasure would overwhelm him and he'd come way too soon; but maybe that was just an inevitability with the Earth Ghoul's expert mouth and long, sinful fingers plundering his body.
"Ngh- Mount- feels so good… I want…" He was whining, begging, aching to be filled by more than just the tall Earth Ghoul's fingers. He'd finally seen that impressive piece of flesh for himself and now he wanted so much more than just a not-so-innocent rut against the drummer's thick cock.
"You think you're ready for the real thing, Bug?" Phantom's eyes got wide at that. Was it too soon? He was already getting delirious with just two of Mountain's meaty fingers carving out a space inside of him. What would that impressive shaft feel like buried deep in his guts?
"Mount, please… I want to feel it… inside…" He was blushing as the Earth Ghoul pulled his fingers free, lowering Phantom's hips back down to the bed. The drummer flipped him over onto his stomach, the eager little Quint clutching at the bedspread as Mountain petted his back.
"Just relax. I'll go slow."
Phantom rested his head on a spare pillow, half-clutching it to his chest. He kept an eye on the Earth Ghoul, watching as Mountain sat up on his knees, angling his cock to rub against the rhythm guitarist's slick cleft. He was breathing deeply, trying to relax like Mountain had said. But just the thought of that thick cock pushing into him in any capacity made his head fuzzy with growing lust.
"Ready?" How in Hell could he be ready for something he'd never even considered a possibility until today? But Phantom nodded, inadvertently clenching his muscles as he felt the bump of the Earth Ghoul's cockhead brush against his ass. Mountain was true to his word, breaching the rhythm guitarist's channel slowly and carefully. Phantom relaxed into the sheets, his breath catching as he felt that slick push into his slippery channel.
The drummer rubbed his back and his hips, the soothing glide of that large warm hand contrasting with the feeling of his stomach lurching up into his throat from the shove of Mountain's generous girth. The Earth Ghoul's touch was sliding up and over his ass, that calloused thumb rubbing deep circles against the base of Phantom's tail.
The Quint started purring, a light, slow rumble in his chest as Mountain eased his way inside. "Just a little bit more, Bug. You're doing so well for me. I know it's a lot."
"It's… so much…" Phantom panted, but quickly added, "-but it feels so goood…" Mountain could hear the satisfaction in the rhythm guitarist's voice and eased his hips forward for the final few inches, bottoming out into the eager little Quint. Phantom collapsed against the sheets and tensed all of his muscles, feeling overfull in the best way.
Oh no! What if Mountain's skills in bed—and that mouth-watering cock—ruined him for everyone else? Oh well, sacrifices must be made, he supposed. Plus, the Earth Ghoul hadn't even started-
"Nngh! Ahh!" Phantom gasped as the drummer eased out and slowly pushed back in, making the rhythm guitarist's toes curl against the sheets. Phantom's muscles clenched as he braced against the mattress, trying not to just greedily push back against the Earth Ghoul's rigid cock.
"Taking me so well, starlight," Mountain cooed. "Does it feel good?" But the Earth Ghoul could probably sense how good the rhythm guitarist was feeling, judging from the squirming and adorable moans coming from the Quint's slack mouth.
"Y-yeah…" Phantom's voice trailed off. "But I wish I could see if it feels good for you too…"
"You mean see my face as I take you?" Mountain's voice was low and filthy. The Quint wondered if Mountain was only talking like that because they weren't looking at each other. He'd never known the Earth Ghoul to be crude; but the drummer's words made him clench all the same.
"Y-yeah." Phantom flushed and buried his face in his arms as Mountain slid free, making him whine cutely from the loss of such gorgeous pressure. The rhythm guitarist was flipped over, nestled comfortably in the pile of pillows like a kit.
Phantom pulled his arms slowly away from his face and gazed up at Mountain in all his sexy, towering glory. The drummer was breathtaking. His sculpted chest, those broad shoulders. Phantom felt dangerously safe and suddenly so small.
"Once more with feeling?" Mountain joked as he braced himself on one of the pillows and lined himself up with the Quint's waiting entrance. Phantom tried his best to relax, trying to stop his heart from racing as the Earth Ghoul's hand guided that perfect pound of flesh back into his body.
The rhythm guitarist whimpered, tail flicking off to one side as he watched Mountain's brow furrow with concentrated desire. The drummer slid back into his slippery channel with a smooth precision that had the Quint arching off the sheets in ragged bliss.
"Nnngh-Mount! Fuuu-uck!" Phantom was blocked in by those corded arms, his vision filled with the drummer's sculpted chest. He'd never dreamed in a million years that he'd get to be under the Earth Ghoul like this.
The stretch was perfect. Mountain was perfect. Pleasure welled up in his chest and leaked from everywhere as the drummer's look softened, wiping at Phantom's face with his thumb.
"Hey. Don't cry, Bug. I can stop if it's too much-"
"No-!" Phantom blurted, wiping at his face with the heels of his palms. "It’s just- you feel really good and I just couldn't stop myself from…" he trailed off and sniffed, big crocodile tears forming at the edges of his eyes again as Mountain cupped his cheek and kissed him.
"Okay…" the Earth Ghoul murmured into his pointed ear. "I won't stop. But, in return, you've gotta tell me what you want." There was a teasing lilt to the drummer's words and Phantom blushed as he gazed up into those grey eyes.
"I'm already getting what I want," he said innocently.
Mountain's chuckle was as deep and dark as a cave. "Yeah, but what else can I give you? You want it sweet? Hard? Rough? Soft?"
"Ohhh…" The pieces finally connected in Phantom's brain as the Earth Ghoul pumped himself lazily in and out of the rhythm guitarist's slick hole while the Quint decided.
"I… I've never been… rough with anyone. it's always seemed fun but I've never been brave enough to ask for it…"
"Looks like you just did." Mountain's teeth scraped over Phantom's pulse, making the little Quint shiver as the drummer's hips fucked harder against him by degrees; working the poor rhythm guitarist up all over again.
Phantom's cock jolted against his stomach as the Earth Ghoul cradled his head in one huge hand, the other braced against his hip so he could drive into Phantom's body even further.
"Mmm-! Ohh, Mount- please, fuck!" The worked up little Quint was clutching the pillows, arching and panting against the drummer's muscled shoulder; just riding this high of being fucked and filled so good.
Mountain's hand tightened in his hair, tugging to expose more of his throat, licking and nipping at the rhythm guitarist's hammering pulse with those sharp fangs as the Quint's muscles clenched and fluttered around him.
The drummer pounded into him, loosing sharp little cries from Phantom's mouth that were building in volume with every thrust as Mountain made it his sole mission to wreck the Bug as thoroughly as possible.
The pillows were no longer satisfying the Quint's need to hold onto something; to ground himself. He loosened his grasp on the fluffy supports and wrapped his scrawny arms around the drummer's broad back, claws scraping down hard and deep in his building arousal, stoked hot by the very treatment he'd asked for.
"Nnngh, that's it," Mountain sighed against his throat. "Get messy for me. Show me how good it feels."
Phantom's voice was cracked and filled with dark longing as he spread his knees wider, locking his ankles desperately around the Earth Ghoul's trunk as Mountain rutted against him, that thick shaft rubbing his sweet spot again and again as the drummer fucked him into the mattress.
"Ngh! Oh! Ohh! Mount- fuck! Please! Ohfuck! Ohfuck! Ohfuck! Ah-hh!!" The drummer's hips were a bruising hump against his ass as Mountain took exactly what he wanted.
The drummer was huffing and growling into the little Quint's ear as Phantom spilled over his belly; pushed over the edge as he felt the Earth Ghoul's cock spurt hard inside of him, coating his clamping walls with sticky heat.
A low keening whine was muffled in Mountain's gnawed shoulder as Phantom refused to let go of him, nuzzling and purring loudly. The drummer eventually slid free and went to the bathroom for a towel.
Phantom sat up with a gasp. "Mountain, your back! I'm so sorry." The Quint's ears drooped, tail limp as he noticed his transgression. The drummer glanced at his back in the mirror and chuckled, coming to cup the rhythm guitarist's cheeks in his hands.
"Don't worry about me, Bug. That just means you were having a really, really good time. And that means I'm doing my job right." The Earth Ghoul winked and kissed Phantom who trilled, staring down at his claws—what untapped power did he wield?
Everyone was in the dressing room getting ready. Mountain stripped off his shirt, knowing almost all of the others were watching. He could feel the air shift in the room, a sensual twinge swirling around him like some dark, forgotten magic.
The fabric lifted inch by inch revealing the long, deep gouges that Phantom had left him after they'd hurriedly coupled again that morning with the Quint's supple ass planted precariously on the bathroom counter.
Mountain could feel everyone's eyes on him; sharp quiet intakes of breath, jealous chirps and trills as he showed off what a good job he'd done satisfying their twiggy rhythm guitarist.
Dewdrop was the first to break the stunned silence, hooking an arm around Phantom's shoulders as he joked, "Don't turn him to ribbons too much, Buggy. We still have a whole ass tour to do."
Rain laughed at that. Phantom's spluttering outburst was a poor denial of what they all knew and the others joined in with hearty chuckles. The Quint scampered to the bathroom in embarrassment again and the Water Ghoul elbowed Mountain in his toned side, spurring him into action.
"Don’t be late, loverboy. Remember, we still have a show to do."
Mountain, once again, trailed the rhythm guitarist down the hall to the bathroom in just his pants and socks.
Summary: Rain's messy celebration of Dew's body (cunt/cock used for Dew, Rain's tits); transmasc Dew and Rain; tit fucking, oral sex, praise kink, dirty talk, squirting, post-top surgery, body worship, trans joy and pride, gender affirming sex, fluff and smut, the boys are in love your honor
a/n: the long discussed, yet to be posted until now gender affirming blowjob to titfucking fic. i stared at it too long, reworked it too many times. i need to let it breathe and be free. bodies are beautiful, and that includes yours. happy pride, may we all know joy
· · · — ⸸ · ⛧ · ⸸ — · · ·
The bath water's gone cold in the next room and neither of them cares.
Rain's sprawled across the bedding with his robes half-off one shoulder, still smelling like the salt and oil they'd dumped in the tub, still warm enough that he keeps pressing the back of his hand to Dew's arm just to share it.
Dew's flat on his back. One arm flung behind his head, the other resting on his stomach, eyes tracking something on the ceiling that isn't there. Quiet — but not the bad kind. Rain's learned the difference.
This is the quiet Dew gets when he's full to the brim and doesn't have anywhere to put it yet.
Rain watches him. The rise and fall of his chest. The little twitch at the corner of his jaw. The way his fingers keep curling and uncurling against his own stomach like he's testing that it's all still there.
"Hey." Rain scoots closer, chin finding Dew's shoulder. "You've been staring at that ceiling like it owes you money."
Dew snorts. "'M thinking."
"Dangerous." Rain grins, walks two fingers up Dew's sternum. "Wanna think out loud, or you want me to give you something better to do?"
Dew's quiet for a second.
His head tilts toward Rain's voice and his hand uncurls against his stomach, palm going loose and open. Not a word. He doesn't always have words for this. But Rain knows how to read a yes when it's offered with the whole body.
"Hi baby," Rain murmurs, feeling the exact moment Dew lets go of holding himself together.
He shifts up onto an elbow and lets his fingertips hover a breath above the center of Dew's chest. Waits. When Dew doesn't tense, doesn't flinch, he lets them land. Right in the middle of it. Over the new shape. Over the lines that are still pink and healing and entirely, finally his.
"Still with me?" Rain says.
Dew nods. Sharp first, then softer, and Rain feels his pulse pick up right under his palm.
He spreads his hand wider — collarbone, ribs, the slope of him that Dew used to only get to want and now just gets to have. Rain's breath does something embarrassing. He doesn't care.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he says. "Genuinely. It's a problem. I can't think straight."
Dew huffs a laugh, mouth tipping crooked, eyes sliding toward the wall. "You've never thought straight a day in your life."
"Okay, rude, and also true—"
"—not as pretty as you, though," Dew mutters.
Rain glows. Not figuratively — his light flares soft and pink at the edges, the way it always betrays him when he's pleased. He leans into it shamelessly.
"Oh, so I am pretty." He props his chin on Dew's chest, beaming. "Good. Glad we're agreed."
"That's not—" Dew starts, and Rain talks right over him.
"But you." He dips down, kisses the slope of muscle where soft meets solid. "You're handsome." Another kiss, lower, grinning against skin. "Stupidly handsome. Criminally. It's actually inconvenient for me."
Dew's laugh cracks out of him — surprised and real, the good ugly kind. "Inconvenient."
"Deeply. I can't get anything done." Rain props back up, eyes bright.
Dew's hand finds its way into Rain's curls, and the laugh goes quieter, but it doesn't leave his face. "Yeah?" he says. "You think I'm handsome?"
"Mhm." Rain's tail sways slow behind him. "Wanna show you."
Dew's fingers tighten in Rain's curls. "You sure?" His voice has gone rough. "I'm still kind of—" He glances down at his own chest, bare under Rain's hand, still new enough that he keeps catching himself looking. "Still getting used to it being mine."
Rain follows his gaze. Then looks back up, and whatever's on his face makes Dew's breath catch.
"Dew. I have wanted to get my hands on this chest since the day you told me you were getting it." He says it plainly, like a fact, like the weather. "I've been so chill about it. So patient and chill."
Dew laughs wet and startled. "You sent me eleven texts the morning of."
"Chill. And patient." Rain ducks down and kisses him — the curve of muscle, the place where the skin was shaped and healed, careful and unhurried but grinning the whole time. He lingers, breathes him in.
"Let me have you. Please," he says softly, the joke laying down somewhere gentle. "I've been dying to."
Dew exhales hard through his nose, and when he speaks his voice isn't steady at all. "You really mean it."
Not a question, quite. Like he needs to set it down somewhere outside himself and look at it.
Rain presses his lips to the center of Dew's chest, right over his heart, and holds there.
"Every word," he says. "C'mere, I'm gonna prove it."
And then he's moving — kissing down Dew's chest, mouth open and warm, taking his time but not making a ceremony of it. One kiss for the curve of muscle. One for the healed line where the shape was made. One for the nipple, careful, and Dew's hips give a little involuntary twitch that makes Rain hum, pleased.
He trails lower. Ribs, the soft give of Dew's stomach, the spot just above the waistband that makes Dew suck in a breath. Rain looks up, chin hooked over Dew's hip.
"Still good?"
"Yeah." Dew's voice is thick.
"Can I?" Fingers curled under the waistband.
Dew lifts his hips, and Rain peels the pants down and off and then just— stops. Looks. Sits back on his heels and takes in the whole flushed length of him, Dew's cock already swollen and stiff and glistening at the tip, and whatever face he's making must be ridiculous, because Dew snorts.
"You good down there?"
"Gimme a second. I'm having a moment." Rain wets his lips, and when he speaks again it comes out in a rush, like he can't believe his own luck: "Okay. Okay, I want—" He swallows. "I want you to fuck my tits."
Dew blinks like he's gone a little mad. "You want me to what?"
"Fuck my tits." Rain's tail loops cheerfully around his ankle.
"I— baby, I can't exactly—" Dew gestures vaguely toward the closet, ears gone hot. "D'you want me to get the—"
"You can," Rain says, delighted. "Can I taste first? Get you ready?"
Dew's tongue darts across his lower lip. "...Yeah. Yeah, 'course you can."
"Lie back." Rain's already nudging his thighs apart, settling between them like he's got a reservation. "Let me get you there."
Dew goes loose and easy, and Rain takes his sweet time — mouths the inside of one thigh, then the other, sucks a mark into soft skin just to feel Dew jolt, hands stroking up over his hips. Then he licks one long, flat stripe up through him, slow, and Dew's whole body goes taut.
"Fuck—"
"Mhm." Rain hums it against him, already slick to the chin, and seals his mouth over Dew's cock, hard and swollen, flushed dark and standing proud out of its hood. He sucks soft and steady, tongue working him in slow circles, and Dew's hips kick up off the bed. He's drenched already, wet smearing across Rain's lips and chin.
Rain moans at the taste of him, the slick of him, like it's the best thing he's had all week. He pulls back just to look, Dew's cock shining and swollen, his whole sex flushed and soaked and gorgeous. The sound Rain makes is pure greed.
"Fuck, look at you. So hard for me already." He grins, breath hot against the wet. "Showoff."
Dew chokes on a laugh that breaks into a groan as Rain dives back in — "Rain—" — closing his lips around him and sucking harder now, tongue flat and dragging, hips rolling up to grind himself against Rain's mouth.
Rain feasts. There's no other word for it. He works him with his whole mouth — lips, tongue, the gentle graze that makes Dew sob. Laps up the slick that keeps coming, buries his face in him and moans like he could do this for hours, like there's nothing about this body he wouldn't worship. Stars go off behind his eyes. Drool and slick run down his chin and he could not care less.
Dew's hand slides to his horn and grips, and when Rain glances up through his lashes to meet that blown-black gaze, Dew's voice comes out absolutely wrecked.
"You wanna— c'mon, baby, want you to ride my face. Come up here."
Rain pulls off with an obscene, glistening gasp, mouth shining, chin soaked. "Oh, I want." He licks his lips. "But not yet. Not done with you."
He goes back down, greedy and sloppy and making zero attempt to be graceful — tongue flat against Dew's cock, lips sealed, sucking him through every grind, Dew rocking up into the wet heat of his mouth and Rain taking all of it, slick running down his throat, the sounds of it loud and filthy and obscene.
He's having the actual time of his life.
"Fuck, baby—" Dew's hand tightens on his horn, hips snapping up against his mouth. "That's— you like that?"
Rain moans his answer against him, enthusiastic and uncoordinated, eyes watering and crinkled at the corners like he's almost laughing with how good this is — like there's nowhere on earth he'd rather be than face-deep in his boyfriend, drenched to the chin, consuming him whole.
Dew's hand slides from his horn down into his curls, fists there, gets a real grip. His voice shifts, more sure. The voice of a man who knows exactly what he's doing to the person beneath him.
"Yeah? You like when I fuck your face, baby?"
Rain whimpers around him, eyes rolling back, and Dew laughs — a real laugh, dark and pleased and so fucking masculine Rain's whole body lights up with it.
"Look at you. So pretty like this. So good for me." Dew rolls his hips again, slower now, watching, his free hand coming down to cup Rain's jaw, thumb dragging through the wet at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, sweetheart. Take it."
And Rain does, moaning brokenly, hands flying up to grip Dew's thighs, drinking it all in: Dew's voice, Dew's grip, Dew above him taking what he wants, Dew being exactly who he is. The slick running down Rain's throat, the burn in his jaw, the firm hold in his hair guiding him onto his boyfriend's cock at exactly the pace his boyfriend wants.
Rain could come from this alone.
He's a little worried he might.
Dew watches him drool around his cock and groans, hips rocking, thumb still working the corner of Rain's mouth like he can't quite believe he's allowed.
"That's it. That's my good boy. Look so fucking pretty taking it for me."
Rain whines, high and ruined, the praise hitting him somewhere unfair. He sucks harder, sloppier, makes a show of it — eyes wet, throat working, tongue flat and devoted. Dew swears and his rhythm goes ragged, hand fisting tighter in Rain's curls.
He works him like that — Dew rolling down into his mouth at his own pace, Rain greedy and pliant and shining wet beneath him, both of them so far gone they've stopped keeping track of who's giving and who's taking until Dew's leaking steadily, shaking, thighs trembling around Rain's head, right on the edge.
Rain pulls off with a gasp and a long string of slick he doesn't bother wiping, lips swollen, face soaked, grinning like a menace.
"Okay— okay, c'mere, up here." Rain's already tugging at Dew's hips, breathless, urging him up the bed. "Wanted you between these since the second you walked in, c'mon, gimme—"
Dew huffs a dazed laugh and lets himself be hauled, clumsy and pliant, until he's crawling up to straddle Rain's chest, knees bracketing his ribs, and oh. Oh, the view. Rain's hands go still on his thighs and just hold.
Dew's settled right over him now, his cunt pressed warm and soaked against the center of Rain's chest, slick already smearing where they meet. His cock stands flushed and shining and proud, poking out from where he's tucked against Rain's skin. Rain could weep. He looks up the long line of Dew's body — flat chest heaving, healed and his, that gorgeous cock right there for the taking — and makes a sound like he's been gut-punched.
"Fuck, you're—" Dew starts, breath catching, hands not sure where to land.
"Yeah." Rain doesn't even let him finish. He oils his palms, his chest, the soft weight of his tits, works it in until he's gleaming, then presses them together. He makes a warm snug channel and looks up with absolute filth in his eyes. "Made you a spot. C'mon, baby. Use it."
The first slide takes some negotiating — Dew shifts forward, Rain adjusts his grip, a slippery false start that makes them both snort, "okay, wait—" "no, lower, here—" — and then Rain reaches between them, thumbs Dew's cock free of its hood, and tucks him down into the slick warm press of his cleavage himself.
They both go quiet with it.
Because it's slow. Rain wants it slow. He holds his tits snug and Dew settles into the channel, hard and swollen and so wet already that the first grind pulls a slick, filthy sound out of the space between them. He's small like this, flushed dark, glistening, his cock nestled in oil and the slick that's been running from him since Rain's mouth was on him. The head drags up through the tight warmth and catches, just barely, before Dew rocks back down. Rain watches the whole thing. So does Dew.
"Oh." Dew's hips stutter. "Oh, that's—"
"Mhm." Rain's gone smug and breathless at once, voice thick. "Look how good you fit. Made for you, baby."
Dew looks. He can't not. He grinds forward again, slow, and watches the swollen head of his cock ride up through the slick press of Rain's cleavage, shining and flushed and right there between his tits, before he rocks back down and it disappears into the warm clutch again. Watches the wet smear he's leaving on Rain's skin. His eyes go wide and glassy. "Holy shit."
"Yeah?" Rain squeezes them tighter, and the next drag of pressure against him pulls a broken, soaked sound right out of Dew. "Feel that? That's all for you. Get me messy, c'mon."
"Fuck, baby—" Dew's voice cracks, eyes still glued to where his cock keeps disappearing into the tight channel of Rain's chest. "You can't just say things like that."
"Like what?" Rain's grinning, helpless and radiant, and it shakes his whole chest. The shift of it against Dew's cock makes Dew gasp and swear and grab Rain's shoulders to hold him still. "Okay— okay do not do that again or I'm gonna—"
"Do what, this?" Rain laughs again, pure menace, deliberately rolling his chest, and Dew groans and drops his forehead toward Rain's like he's been wounded.
It stops being funny when something settles in Dew's spine as he builds a more confident rhythm — that same shift Rain felt when Dew's hand fisted in his hair, the quiet click of him stepping into himself. When he lifts his head his eyes have gone dark and certain.
"Hold them tight for me," he says, low. "Just like that. Don't let go."
Rain's whole body sparks. "Yes, sir."
Dew's grin flickers, dangerous and pleased, and then he braces his hands flat on the bed on either side of Rain's head. He boxes him in, leans down over him and starts to fuck the channel of Rain's tits in earnest. Slow, still, but deeper now, surer, every grind a long deliberate drag of his cock through oil and slick and the warm snug clutch Rain is holding for him. The sounds it makes are filthy. Wet, rhythmic, the obscene squelch of how soaked he is, his cunt smearing wet across Rain's sternum every time he rocks down.
And he's watching Rain the whole time.
"Look at you," Dew says, voice rough and low, the voice from before — the one that knows what it's doing. "Holding me so good. So pretty under me, baby."
Rain whimpers and his grip on his tits goes tighter, squeezing the channel snug around him. Dew groans deep in his chest and rolls his hips harder.
"Yeah. There you go. That's mine, sweetheart, isn't it? You made it for me." A pause, a slow filthy drag, the head of his cock pushing up into Rain's cleavage slick and shining and catching before he sinks it back down. "Gonna make a mess of you. Gonna ruin you right here."
"Please—" Rain's voice cracks, glow flaring wild, his chest shining and streaked and dripping. "Please, baby, do it, want it so bad—"
"I know you do."
Dew's rhythm picks up, hips snapping down now, grinding through the slick clutch with real intent. The obscene wet sounds of it fill the room — the slap of his cunt against Rain's chest, the squelch of oil and slick smeared everywhere between them, his cock dragging fast and frantic up through the warm tight space Rain is squeezing for him.
Rain is soaked. His sternum, his ribs, his tits where Dew keeps grinding through — all of it slick and shining with Dew's wet, glowing gold in the candlelight, and Dew is watching it like a man possessed.
"Look at the mess you're making of me," he pants. "Fuck, sweetheart, look at you, taking it so good—"
"Love you—" Rain gasps, undone. "Love you, love it, please—"
"I know, baby. I've got you." Dew leans down further, forehead almost touching Rain's, hips grinding ragged and desperate now, his own breath breaking apart. "Gonna give you everything. Gonna soak you. You ready?"
"Yes— yes, give it to me—"
Dew breaks.
His hips stutter, his whole body pulls tight, and he comes with a sound that's got Rain's name drowning in it. Not a stripe but a flood, slick gushing hot between them, soaking Rain's chest, running down the channel they made and over his ribs and pooling in the dip of his collarbone, more than either of them expected, more than Dew thought his body could give. He keeps grinding through it, shaking, working himself against the slick channel of Rain's tits until he's wrung empty, until he's drenched Rain everywhere they touch.
For a second after, Dew just— stops. Stares down at the mess of Rain beneath him. Something moves across his face that isn't quite a word, like his body did something he didn't know it could do. Like he's a little awed by himself.
Rain's glow flares radiant and wild, catching the wet shine of all of it, and he's laughing and gasping at once, wrecked and thrilled and dragging his fingers through the mess like he wants to be drenched in it.
"There it is," Rain says, breathless, grinning up at him. "Look at you. Look what you did."
Dew exhales something that's half laugh, half sob, and collapses forward before his arms give out.
Rain catches him, of course he catches him, gathering him in, one hand splaying warm and slick across his back, both of them dripping and laughing into each other's skin.
"Did I really just—" Dew starts, muffled.
"You really just."
Dew makes a broken, exalted little sound and Rain feels it go through his whole chest. He slides a hand into Dew's hair, scratches gentle at the roots.
"You okay?" Rain says, softer now.
"Mm." There's a pause before Dew speaks again. Quiet, almost shy. "I feel really good. Like— really good."
Rain turns his head and kisses his temple, and doesn't make it a big thing, because making it a big thing would ruin it.
"Good," he says simply. "Me too."
They stay like that until the mess between them starts to cool and Rain shifts with a grimace. "Okay. Up. I need a bath, Lucifer's tits."
Dew lifts his head and surveys the damage — Rain's chest streaked and shining and frankly a disaster, slick pooled in the dip of his collarbone, his stomach still wet where it ran down. He grins, slow and unbearably pleased with himself.
"Look at you."
"Yeah, yeah, take a picture." Rain bats at his shoulder. "Move, fire-ghoul, I'm freezing and disgusting."
Dew snorts and rolls off him. They shuffle to the bath together, Rain leading, Dew trailing with a hand at the small of his back. Rain dips a toe in the water still standing from earlier and makes a deeply put-upon noise.
"It's cold."
"Mm."
"Babe."
"Yeah, I heard you." Dew's still grinning. He steps in behind him, sinks down into the cold water without flinching, and Rain watches with no small amount of satisfaction as steam starts curling off the surface within seconds, Dew's hand trailing through it, heat blooming out from his palm in slow rolling waves until the whole tub goes from cold to warm to perfect.
"My hero," Rain sighs, climbing in after him.
"Get in here, drama queen."
Rain settles back between Dew's thighs with a sound that's almost embarrassing, the warm water lapping up around his shoulders, Dew's chest solid and steady at his back. Dew curls his arms around him, hands sliding up to splay across Rain's chest and Rain lets his head fall back onto Dew's shoulder.
"You did so good," Dew murmurs into his hair. The same words Rain's been giving him all night, handed back.
Rain makes a small, pleased noise. "You're getting better at the praise thing."
"Had a good teacher."
"Mm. Suck-up."
Dew laughs against his temple, and then he gets to work. Pours warm water over Rain's chest, palms running gentle through the mess, washing him clean. He takes his time. Scrubs the slick from Rain's sternum, the dip of his collarbone, the soft underside of his tits. His hands are careful but in that I love this body and I'm not done touching it way.
"Hold still."
"I am holding still."
"You're squirming."
"You're tickling me, you menace."
Dew kisses the back of his neck, doesn't apologize, and keeps going. Once he's rinsed clean, Dew reaches for the comb on the side of the tub and starts working it through Rain's hair. Wide-toothed, patient, his other hand cupping Rain's jaw to tilt his head just so. He's not as practiced at it as Rain is, fumbles once or twice, but he's careful and he's trying and Rain melts against him completely.
"Gotta show everyone how pretty you are tomorrow," Dew murmurs, threading his fingers through to check for tangles.
Rain's glow goes soft and warm, lazy gold under the water. "Yeah?"
"Mhm."
"Already showed you."
Dew huffs a laugh against his temple and kisses him there, slow.
Mushy May Day 31 - Unspoken I Love You's (Aether/Dew)
Once again thank you @forlorn-crows for this year's Mushy May prompts! Lovely divider by @ghuleh-recs!
Last day of Mushy May!! I didn't finish as many prompts as I wanted, but I have at least one more in the works that will come out a bit late. Thank you, Crow, for putting Mushy May together again this year! It's one of my absolute most favorite events around here and I look forward to it SO much. I had a great time writing and I absolutely loved seeing all the work people shared this year.
Tags: Dewther, fluff, established relationship, disgusting sappy mushy in love ghouls
Ao3 here.
Their unspoken ‘I love you’s’ may be different, but there are a million of them either way. They say it out loud to each other often, but alongside the grand gestures, it’s the little things that say I love you over and over again.
For Aether it’s getting up just a little bit earlier each morning and making Dew his first cup of coffee. Just the way he likes it. His favorite beans, hand ground, served black, molten-lava-hot and in his favorite mug - something silly Aether picked up for him at a roadside gas station way back on their first tour out together. Every morning, just like clockwork, Dew opens bleary eyes to find Aether at his bedside with his mug in hand and a smile across his equally sleepy face. Dew always reaches up for a thank you kiss before taking that first sip.
Other times it’s little presents, gifted here and there. Always totally random but incredibly thoughtful. Aether knows Dew’s interests as well as his own, and he loves the way Dew’s eyes light up when he surprises him with a vintage band tee or obscure horror movie. Just because, he says every time. And Dew is always so impressed and touched. A movie he’d mentioned once, briefly, in passing, a band he was listening to in his free time. Aether always notices, always remembers. And sometimes it’ll become a little treat, Aether’s way of saying I was thinking of you.
Sometimes it’s a hot bath at the end of the day, just when Dew needs it the most. On those never-ending long days of band practice just before tour that leave Dew bone-tired and sore, walking into their bedroom stretching his aching shoulders. On those days, he’ll find Aether in the bathroom, just turning off the steaming hot water in the tub. Ready and waiting for him with a fluffy towel and a look of pure adoration.
And when they’re apart it’s no different. With Dew out on tour and Aether back home at the ministry. They talk on the phone as often as they can but it’s the little pictures and text messages throughout his busy days and nights that keep Dew’s heart full. Dew will pull up his phone to a text from Aether - a photograph of something silly and mundane. A pair of socks in a heap on the floor, a fork and spoon side by side on the table, two lone apples in the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter. Each one accompanied by the same exact caption every time. Look, it’s us. Dew follows suit with his own pictures, the sillier and more ridiculous the better. A dirty old pair of tennis shoes hanging from a power line, a half eaten hot dog and a pickle on a paper plate. Look, it’s us, Dew will text. And Aether will answer back the same each time, Aw, babe - and a heart emoji. Now they try to outdo each other with the most ridiculous pairs of objects. As it stands, Dew is winning. And even though they joke, every picture Dew gets makes his heart feel full.
Dew says I love you in a hundred different ways of his own. Sometimes it’s a home cooked meal. A spread of all of Aether’s favorite things, meticulously prepared and laid out on the table. Sometimes it’s a surprise, and sometimes Aether spends the day in the kitchen alongside him, helping where he can. There’s nothing Aether loves more than to watch Dew flit across the kitchen, from the table to the stove to the fridge. Hair messy and shirt dusted with flour. And when they finally sit down to eat, he can feel the love put into every single, delicious bite of food he takes.
Dew takes care of Aether’s guitar just as well as he does his own. He almost never says anything when he does it, but sometimes Aether will sit down to practice and he’ll find his Fantomen freshly serviced. New strings and perfectly tuned. Shiny black body wiped down and free from a single fingerprint. Sometimes he’ll do an entirely new setup, adjust the neck and strings. Whenever Dew does a whole setup, he’ll leave him a little handwritten note, scribbled bullet points of everything he serviced. Always signed with a little “xx - Dew.” Aether always feels like he plays his best after Dew’s worked on any of his instruments.
Dew knows just when Aether is in need of a backrub from warm, strong hands with deft fingers. He can tell right away, even without Aether saying anything, long before he’s wincing in pain, that just what he needs is a backrub from his fire ghoul. Usually, he doesn’t say anything, just takes Aether by the hand, leads him to the bed, whether that be in their bedroom, tour bus bunk, or hotel room, lays him down, straddles his hips, and gets to work. It doesn’t take long before Aether is lying face down, blissed out and dozing off. Muscles loose and feeling good, aches and pains long forgotten under the care of Dew’s perfect, warm hands.
And when they’re apart, in between phone calls and text messages and video chats, Aether gets post cards. One for every stop Dew makes on tour. Each and every one picked out by Dew and with a long note scrawled on the back in Dew’s scratchy handwriting. Telling Aether about his day, about what he ate, how the previous night’s ritual went, or the funny things that happened on the bus. Dew sends them all without fail, and despite having amassed hundreds, Aether feels his heart race each and every time he opens the mail box to find a post card with his name on it. Like a little piece of his ghoul has come home to see him, even for just a moment’s time.
Dew knows how precious their time together is, especially now that Aether doesn’t go out on the road anymore. So the months that Dew is at home, he makes sure to carve out plenty of time just for them to spend alone, together. Walking through the garden in the evenings, curled up on the couch for a movie, or hidden away in sanctuary of their bedroom laughing over the inside jokes that only they know. They say I love you to each other often, it comes just as easy as breathing, but in between, they say it a million times more. Every gesture, every kiss, every smile. Every action is a confession of something they both already know is true.
