#mac writes

[kryptos-cape]

Take Me Back to Eden

Absolute Poison Ivy x GN!Reader

Description: After moving to Gotham, you find yourself wishing on a dandelion that you were less alone. Physically imprisoned in Ark M but psychically deep in The Green, Ivy hears your wish. Set sometime before Absolute Batman #17.

Content Warning: canon-typical body horror

A/N: This piece is a departure from my usual fluff but I thorougly enjoyed writing it (and am quite proud of it)! The title comes from Sleep Token's Take Me Back to Eden; feel free to listen while you read for a sense of the ambience.

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I wish I was less alone.

It's a silent plea as you puff out your cheeks and exhale a slow, steady stream of air. Freed from the stem by your breath, the dandelion seeds dance into the air in front of you. Some of them catch the faint breeze; others fall to the ground like raindrops at your feet. 

You’d moved to Gotham around six months ago, anxious for a new start in a new place. You’d had fantasies of living life as a tried-and-true Gothamite: naturally at ease in the gritty, bustling city with a close-knit group of friends. The idea had been alluring enough for you to scrape together your remaining savings, pack the little furniture  you owned into a rented panel van, and drive four hours to the shitty studio apartment you managed to rent thanks to some former college acquaintances. You’d been able to find a job within your first couple of weeks living there. That had seemed like nothing short of a miracle. It had felt like a sign from the universe that everything would be okay. That you’d made the right decision in starting over.

But nowadays, it’s hard to stay positive. Your job fills the days and your bank account, but your coworkers are little more than acquaintances. Dating apps and singles nights have led to dead end after dead end. Even the plants you’d bought to make your apartment feel a bit more lively struggle to live in the meager sunlight that your small windows allow to filter in. But you can’t let anyone know this was a mistake, so you force a smile and a laugh on calls with  family and friends from home. You insist that you’re doing well when your mother asks, refusing any offers of help with an ease you don’t really feel. You’ve always been stubborn, after all.

With a sigh, you drop the spent dandelion stem to the grass below and exit the small park you’d detoured through. Rejoining the mass of pedestrians making their way down the sidewalk in the waning sunlight, It’s not much longer until you’re back in your apartment. Once there, you commence your evening routine: a cheap dinner of rice and beans eaten on the couch in front of the TV, a shower, and then lying in bed and doing your best to make your eyes tired enough to want to go to sleep. After an hour of scrolling social media, you decide it’s as good a time as any a night. The last thing you see before closing your eyes is the leaves of the wilting pothos plant on your bedside table, silvery in the moonlight.

You wake in a forest clearing, surrounded by the smell of earth and greenery. You’re lying on your back and as your eyes flutter open, you see a thick canopy of trees above you. Moonlight filters through the leaves, creating intricate patterns on the grass you’re lying on. The air is cool. Pushing yourself to your feet, you brush away excess dirt that clings to your palms. You’re acutely aware of the silence, the stillness. The way that both your heartbeat and the sound of your breathing seem deafening. Though you’re sure that you’re dreaming, something feels different in a way that you can’t quite place. This dream feels more real than it should; more real than even the lucid dreams you’ve had in the past. You hear movement in the underbrush and whirl around, your heart skipping a beat. Despite the bright moonlight, you can’t see beyond the trees in your immediate vicinity. Swallowing hard, you reassure yourself that this is just a dream. There’s no need to be frightened—but even as you tell yourself that, you’re not fully convinced.

“Hello?” You call out. There’s another moment of silence before a figure steps out from the tree line. Or wait—do they step out of one of the trees? Regardless you flinch back, startled. They seem to be wearing a hooded cape of some kind that obscures the majority of their body. Their steps are quiet on the earth as they step closer to you, the ragged edges of their cloak flowing lazily as if in an unseen current. Part of you wonders if they deliberately drew your attention by rustling the brush, given how silently they’re moving now.

“I was wondering when you’d arrive.” The hooded figure’s voice is unlike anything you’ve heard before. Almost like some sort of instrument, it contains multiple pitches at once while still being a coherent, singular voice. Some tones are higher, like winter wind howling through the branches of barren trees or the bright, reedy tone that comes when you whistle through a blade of grass. Others are lower: the cracking and groaning of an overburdened tree trunk, or the constant patter of rain on broad-leafed jungle plants. The figure draws closer and as they do, you see that their feet are almost reptilian: deep green in color, large and dextrous, with long toes ending in short, black claws.

“Who are you?” By contrast, your voice is thin and uncertain. 

You jump as something lands on your right shoulder and snakes its way down your arm. You try to brush it away with a shocked cry, but it clings to you. Looking down, you’re surprised to see not an insect or reptile but rather a familiar kind of vine. Leaves of mottled shades of green and yellow that come to three distinct points on a dusty brown stem.

“Ivy?” You speak the word in the quiet. In answer, the plant wraps itself a bit more tightly around your arm. Tendrils wind around your palm and fingers, crisscrossing and wrapping over themselves and your skin. It feels oddly intimate. Looking back up, you see that the figure has drawn even closer in the time you’ve puzzled over your arm. They’re standing in a pool of moonlight that somehow lights them fully. What you see makes your stomach shrink, your eyes widen, and your mouth fall open. You try to jerk away, startled, but the ivy on your arm keeps you from moving.

The figure that stands less than a foot away from you is unlike any person you’ve ever seen. The skin of her face is pale and where blush would normally color her cheeks is instead tinged pale green.  What looks to you like a line of pink scar tissue trails down from her hairline, almost perfectly bisecting her face. The right side of her face is recognizably human: a dark, well-manicured eyebrow and dramatic lashes framing an eye of keen emerald. The right side, though… Her skin on that side is a darker green; her face slightly sunken and skeletal. Her left eye is much larger than her left and altogether insect-like, bulging and bright red with a single, beady pupil. It reminds you of a praying mantis. Two veins trail from either side of her chin, connecting to a bouquet of multicolored roses that bloom in place of bare skin on her neck and chest. She wears what looks like a corset of leaves, interspersed with magenta spikes and larger, thicker veins that seem to be coming out of her upper thighs. As with her face, her right leg looks more human while her left almost seems to be covered by a vibrant green carapace. Each leg ends in the reptilian feet you’d noticed earlier.

But it’s her left arm that terrifies you most. It’s longer and thicker than her right one, ending in a giant, clawed hand that reaches halfway down her calf. The arm itself looks like a creature in its own right: studded with slightly yellowed fangs the size and width of your middle and index fingers, each ending in a vicious point. On her upper arm, just below the ball of her shoulder joint, sits a massive eye. It’s easily two or three times the size of the red one in her face, though it has the same, inhuman pinprick pupil. Its color shifts in the moonlight from gold to bronze to a deep burnt orange like a sunset. More bony spikes, each one at least four inches long by your estimation, just out out of her left shoulder like an epaulette.

What you’d thought was a cloak? It seems to be part of her, like the mantle of a jellyfish or the jaws of a Venus flytrap. Green on the outside and red on the underside, streaked with veins like a gaping maw. Longer magenta spines extend from the hood around her head in a mutated halo. Between the roses on her chest and the hooded cloak, she reminds you of the images you’ve seen on votive candles. But you can’t imagine that she’s a saint many would pray to. 

She is terrible.

She is beautiful.

Your lips try to form questions. Where? How? Why? The woman—Ivy—chuckles. The sound is the rustling of petals.

“We’re in The Green. The network that connects all plant life that’s ever existed.” She fixes both eyes on her face on you. You know you should be struggling against the vine around your arm. You know you should be shrinking back like a cornered animal, trying to hide from the monster in front of you. And yet, despite the primal fear that constricts your throat, you can’t.

“How could you be alone somewhere like this?” Now that question, rhetorical though it is, makes you feel like you’ve been kicked in the gut. In that moment, you know that you’re here because of yesterday’s wish. Because of every wish you’d made on dandelions since moving to Gotham. The ivy in your palm presses its leaves to you, practically holding your hand.

“But this is a dream,” you croak. Ivy smiles softly, tenderly.

“It doesn’t have to be,” she replies. She tilts her head to one side. “Kneel.”

You know she doesn’t need to ask. If the ivy around your arm is any indication of her power, you know she could make vines erupt from the earth and drag you to your knees. But you sense that she wants you to submit without compulsion. Taking what she wants from you doesn’t interest her: what interests her, what hangs heavy in the air now, is a desire for devotion. Given freely and taken in kind.

You drop to your knees so quickly that the vines around your hand and arm barely have time to recede back into the treetops.

Her hand cradles your cheek, claws caressing your skin. A nail the color of sun-bleached bone nicks the crest of your cheekbone. A tongue, one that you imagine must come from a mouth you haven’t seen yet, swipes lazily at the ruby drop of blood that runs down your face like a tear. You watch as the pupil in her still-human eye dilates at the taste. A shudder racks her body. It sounds like a breeze through the branches of mostly-dead trees, wood clacking against itself.

“Open your mouth.” You do as she says, tilting your head so you can still gaze reverently up at her. The tongue that lapped the blood from your cheek licks down the curve of your jaw. A shiver traces up your spine, making all the hair on your body stand on end. You’re aware that your breath is shallower. That your heart is beating faster. That there’s a heat and ache in the pit of your stomach. 

Gratified once again at your willing compliance, Ivy opens the mouth on her face. Plush pink lips pull back to reveal a flash of white teeth before she extends her tongue. This one, though, is more stamen than tongue. It’s impossibly long, streaked bright red and white before ending to a few lobes at the tip that are a deeper, richer shade of red. It falls past her chin, past the roses that bloom from her chest, until it hangs only handful of inches away from your open mouth. Tensing your muscles, you lean forward, trying to get as tall as you can while still remaining on your knees. The tongue on your cheek moves under your chin, tilting your head even further. You feel the heat of the muscle on the sensitive skin of your neck, keeping your head firmly in place. It steadies you, keeping you from falling forward. The back of your neck aches, your spine protesting against the sudden compression.

A mixture of what you think must be saliva and pollen, viscous and crimson as blood, drips from the lobe closest to your waiting mouth. It hangs in the air for what seems like an impossibly long moment; so long that you swear you can see the individual flecks of pollen in the clear liquid. Though that might just be a trick of the light in your peripheral vision. The lion’s share of your attention is still on Ivy’s face. She, you’re gratified to notice, is watching you just as intently with every one of her eyes: the ones in her face and the large one on her shoulder that glows deep yellow like the sun. The liquid lands on your tongue, finally. It’s equal parts sweet and bitter like ripe fruit laced with cyanide. 

You can feel the mixture tracing down your throat and into your stomach with a burn like whiskey. Its effect is immediate and euphoric. You feel like you’re sinking into the earth beneath your bare knees. You are at once yourself and the grass and moss supporting your weight. You are the roots of the sequoias and oaks anchoring the soil in place. You are the trees you’ve walked and wished under in Gotham’s parks; you can feel insects, earthworms, moles, rabbits, squirrels, moving around you and inside you. You can feel the warmth of the sun on your leaves. The scars of past lovers who’ve carved their initials into your flesh. You are the rainforests of South America being burned and cleared for cattle farming. You feel the flames on your skin as the other trees and plants around you slowly go silent. You are the jungles cleared for oil palm plantations. You are the native species uprooted and the invasive ones planted to replace them.You are dying and living over and over at the same time, in the same breath.

It’s overwhelming and through of it is her. Ivy, watching you with the barest hint of a satisfied smirk pulling at the corners of her still-parted lips. Her eyes are hungry; you can feel the tongue under your chin drooling down your neck with each throb of your pulse. In your newfound awareness, you know that she wants to devour you, to swallow you whole or tear your limb from limb. To make your flesh into her own. But you also can sense that the high of seeing you willingly powerless before her is just as strong a sensation, one that keeps the ravenous impulses at bay. You see her in many forms superimposed on top of one another like divine imagery. More human, with her hair tied back, wearing a pristine white lab coat and safety goggles. In an outfit of leaves and vines, hydrangea blooms and leaves of ivy woven through her red hair. It makes you dizzy and you find yourself anchoring your vision to her emerald eye. It stays the same, constant, glimmering in her pale, green-tinged skin like a lighthouse in a storm.

Welcome to your wish. 

Her voice is in your head now. You want to say something but words fail you. You want to, you have to thank her for this miracle. This gift that she’s bestowed upon you. She was right: how can you ever feel alone again, now that you can feel how deeply connected are to everything? But judging by the laugh that echoes in your mind, she already knows that.

It’s beautiful, isn’t it? You nod dumbly in response. 

But it frightens them. The ones in lab coats who live for individual glory and patents. So they’ve locked me in this hellhole. Ark M.

Ivy’s claws dig into the thin skin of your jaw as she shows you a glimpse of her reality outside the haven of The Green. It’s sterile white walls and antiseptic smells, hidden underground and deprived of sunlight, of fresh air, of water, soil, and nutrients. You can just barely make out the hazy figures of scientists and guards outside a thick pane of tinted glass. It fills you with rage. How dare they keep imprison her? Imprison The Green? How could they think they can control something so ancient and wild that it defies human language? You want to scream until your lungs give out, to pound your feet and fists against the glass until they’re broken. Ivy’s red eye seems to blaze with all of the fury that you feel inside of you. She tightens her grip on her jaw, each nail a needle point that draws blood.

Help me find their weaknesses. Help me find their secrets and free us. Even more than before, you know that Ivy could simply compel you to do her bidding. She could activate the pollen that’s being absorbed into the lining of your stomach and turn you into a mindless drone with little more than a flash of one of her eyes. But once again, she’s asking. And once again, you find yourself wanting nothing more than to do as she asks. Ivy’s smirk grows into a grin that reveals teeth that look a little sharper than they did before. Her tongue retracts and she removes her hand from your face. You barely manage to catch yourself on your hands and knees to keep from face-planting in the dirt below. Despite everything that’s happened, you find yourself a little relieved that you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of her by doing so.

You take a deep, steadying breath before pushing yourself back onto your knees—albeit in a far more stable position. Your head is still foggy, but you feel a bit more lucid than before. Ivy gazes into the distance as she brings the hand that was on your cheek to her lips, yellow-white nails now tipped red. The orange eye on her upper arm focuses on you. In a motion reminiscent of a cat cleaning its paw, Ivy uses a more human-looking tongue to lap your blood from her fingertips. Her human eye flutters closed as she savors how you taste. Once her hand is clean, she reopens that eye. She crouches in front of you, reaching her right hand out to trace the puncture marks left by her left. The sharp stinging fades with her touch, as if she’s spread a balm over your wounds.

Find out everything you can. Then find me in The Green.

You wake with a start in a tangle of sheets. The morning sunlight filters golden yellow through the gap in your curtains. Already, the honks and shouts of Gotham traffic can be heard faintly through your closed windows. What a strange dream, you think. Not necessarily unpleasant but definitely strange. As you go to stretch your arms over your head, there’s a tugging on your right arm.

Looking down, you see that your pothos has grown to an almost unbelievable degree. Where there had been a small, slightly wilted plant on your nightstand is now a teeming mass of greenery. Its leaves are a deep, vibrant green streaked with a paler shade; its many vines spilling onto your nightstand and onto the floor. One of its vines has wrapped around your  arm in what seems to be an embrace. You stare, dumbfounded, at the way the plant has bounced back from the verge of death overnight. 

As you raise your arm to better inspect the vines and leaves, you notice something odd. The leaves closer to the ends of the vine are their usual rounded heart shape. But the ones closer to the base of the plant; the ones that are perhaps newer, are entirely different. They’re shaped, if you’re not mistaken, like the many-pronged leaves of an ivy.

[fyonahmacnally]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

It’s their usual Friday movie night. Kara sits next to Lena, their bodies touching with zero space between them. The CEO’s hand lazily and mindlessly rubs the back of the hero’s head as a 90’s Halloween movie plays. There’s absolutely nothing unusual about the evening. There are snacks, Lena’s favorite dinner is on its way, and their drinks are on the coffee table. They spend every Friday night like this and have for as long as the two of them could remember. 

Lena doesn’t like to admit it (and she won’t to anyone else), but she loves this time of year. At least she likes spending it with Kara. As a Luthor, Halloween isn’t something she got to celebrate as a kid. Now, since Kara introduced her to the movies, costumes, and candy? She truly loves it, regardless of what she says out loud. 

Whether it is the childlike exuberance of the woman next to her or the experience itself, she enjoys the month of October immensely. Of course, she will continue to pretend she doesn’t, that’s just her shtick with her best friend, after all. It’s too fun to stop now. 

She knows Kara enjoys Halloween as well, but she also refers to October as ‘Lena Month’ since it’s the month of her birthday. It took a few years, but the blonde finally figured out her birthday is October 24th. 

The ebony haired genius managed to keep it from her best friend for exactly two years. Frankly, she’s shocked she managed to hide it that long with how tenacious the Kryptonian can be when she wants to know something. She’ll take it though, after so many years of loathing her birthday, Kara makes it worth celebrating. 

Tonight, it’s movies and sharing cupcakes to celebrate Lena’s birthday. Her puppy-of-a best friend has celebrated her birthday every Friday night in October thus far. However, tonight is her actual birthday. At the insistence of the Super, she gets to make all the choices for the evening. So, her first birthday request is for Kara to choose the first movie. Unshockingly, It’s one she hasn’t seen before. 

Something about the Sanderson Sisters and a candle. Hocus Pocus, maybe? It’s a Disney movie, definitely something Kara would choose. Little does the blonde know, the next movie they’re watching isn’t Halloween themed, but she knows it will get a jump scare from the blonde. Maybe even from Lena as well since she’s only seen the previews.

One way or another, no matter what they are watching, Lena’s hand always ends up in Kara’s hair. There’s always some form of cuddling or touching. Sometimes, Kara’s head ends up in her lap. Regardless of what happens, they’re in each other’s space and always migrate toward one another. Certainly not something Lena is going to complain about. 

As their friendship has gotten stronger and they’ve rebuilt the trust between them, the CEO’s feelings about the hero have become more and more evident. Most of the time, she thinks Kara feels the same way. Unfortunately, she is too scared to ruin the friendship they’ve just rebuilt to say anything or make a move beyond where things are now. 

It would be much easier if Kara would give her some sort of sign. Even then, Lena doesn’t have the advantage of alien senses to know if the blonde’s heart is racing or her breath catches in certain moments. She’d only be guessing and as a scientist, that’s not solid evidence so things remain the same.

The first movie finishes a few minutes before their food arrives. They take a break to eat and change into their pajamas before starting the second movie. Lena specifically chose the next movie because it’s a suspense-horror and she knows it will result in Kara cuddling into her more. 

Look, she isn’t above using shady methods to get her cuddling fix. She’s but a simple, cowardly queer. Sue her. 

She grins at the blonde now snuggled into her side as she hits play on What Lies Beneath, a mid-2000 suspense-horror movie starring Michelle Pfeiffer (yet another reason she chose the movie - again, she is but a simple queer). 

Lena’s arm is wrapped around the Kryptonian’s shoulders, her hand buried in blonde tresses while the hero’s head rests on her shoulder. The warmth of Kara’s forehead is pressed into the exposed skin of her collarbone as the movie suspense picks up. She can feel the warm breath of her best friend skating across the bare skin of her throat causing a shiver to race down her spine and heat to settle into her lower abdomen.

It’s nothing new for her when they get this touchy and close, but it’s definitely not as under wraps as she likes to keep it. All she can do now is hope Kara doesn’t notice the shift in her heart rate. Or at least if she does, Lena hopes she attributes it to the movie they're watching. 

So far, neither of them have really been startled by the movie, but Kara has let out a gasp and buried her head into Lena’s neck a few times. As she said before, she is but a simple queer and is most certainly basking in the attention being bestowed up on her. Plus, she is comforting the scared alien…would anyone expect any less?

After the last suspenseful moment, they settle back into their positions. Lena still has her arm around the hero’s shoulder and her hand in her hair. At this point it is more absent-minded than anything. As she anticipated from the start and for the first time during the entire movie, Lena is startled. 

Unfortunately (fortunately? - to be determined), the jump scare causes Lena to tighten her grasp on the blonde’s hair at the back of her head and pull hard on instinct. The sound that comes out of Kara’s mouth sends an entire sanctuary of butterflies cascading through her chest and stomach. 

Cerulean eyes go wide and a hopefully inaudible whimper slips between Lena’s lips before the CEO freezes, blonde locks still firmly wrapped in her grasp. Neither of them move for what feels like an eternity. Finally, pale fingers release their grip and she clears her throat before a mumbled apology rolls across her tongue. 

Kara seems to brush it off and settle back into position, but Lena’s mind cannot stop replaying the sound her best friend made and the reaction she can tell Kara’s body had to the whole situation. Not to mention, her own body is now vibrating like a livewire after a storm. 

Her obsessive brain keeps reminding her that her sunshiney, puppy-of-a best friend likes to have her hair pulled. The woman she is irrevocably, unquestionably in love with might have some kinks that align with her own. How in the hell is she supposed to focus on the rest of the movie with this kind of knowledge at the forefront of her brain? 

She gathers all of her Luthor moxy and breathes her way through the remainder of the movie. If someone quizzes her on the last twenty minutes of the film, she will ultimately fail, but she survived it…mostly. Now that she knows what a moan sounds like coming from those perfect pouty lips, her internal fantasies have a more realistic soundtrack. She’s not sure she will survive this knowledge.

After the credits make their way across the screen, Lena removes her arm from around the blonde before gathering their glasses and leftover takeout containers. Once she is in the kitchen, she takes a minute to center herself, desperately trying to shake the vivid memory reel from her mind. As she places the last of the leftovers in the fridge, she realizes Kara still hasn’t moved from her spot on the couch and her eyes are fixed on the wall. 

Straightening her spine and rolling her shoulders back, Lena heads toward the seemingly dazed woman on the couch. As she gingerly sits herself back onto the cushions next to Kara, she rests her hand on the blonde’s knee before asking, “Are you okay? Was the movie too much?”

Startled at her return to the couch, Kara shakes her head as a pink hue drifts across her cheeks and a combination of a laugh and a breathy whisper escapes her lips. After a brief moment of silence, the Super clears her throat and turns her head to look at Lena. 

“Are we going to pretend that didn’t happen?” Kara quietly asks, the words barely audible as her skin does its best imitation of a fresh tomato.

Shocked, Lena takes a second to decide what kind of risk she is willing to take. Given that Kara brought it up, she feels pretty confident a more risque answer isn’t too far out of line. So, she shifts a little closer, twines her hand back into blonde locks, and smirks.

“Oh, you mean accidentally finding out my best friend likes to have her hair pulled? Or the fact that you moaned in my ear?” She lightly pulls the blonde’s hair again and is promptly rewarded with the same moan she got earlier. 

The smirk on the CEO’s face deepens, having her assumptions confirmed, she gets cockier. Instead of backing away, she leans closer to whisper in Kara’s ear. “What else is hiding under that straight-laced persona you wear around, Supergirl?”

By the time the sun rises the following morning, Lena has the answer to that and so many other questions. It might have started as an accident, but turned into something far better than any of the fantasies they’ve been harboring for years. 

Thank the gods Lena decided to pick a movie to jump-scare her best friend. What lies beneath those cardigans and button downs was well worth the trouble.

[mac-and-thefox]

Remiss

A gift/pick me up for @midnight-moth . 7000+ words of Raindrop being sappy love struck fools for each other 💙

This Raindrop is equal parts slice of life, equal parts "Dew keeps trying to jump Rain's bones in public places even though he has social anxiety"

Tags: Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Mild Hurt/Comfort, but just for a sec, Submissive Dewdrop, Dew has a pussy, Vaginal Sex, Social Anxiety, A hint of subdrop, but Rain makes it all okay, Boot Worship (kinda), praise kink

WC: 7034

Thank you @jimothybarnes and @hypnoneghoul for the beta 💙

Also credit to @thelampisaflashlight for letting me borrow their OC Bea for a subtle background cameo as the dryad hybrid's angry co-worker 💙

Dew puts his guitar down and looks at the clock on the wall. He squints, trying to make out what the hands are saying. He knows he forgot his glasses, but it can’t possibly be…12:30? He came in here at 1pm, wanting to practice his lead part for a new demo that Papa was getting ready to record. He frowns, remembering that Phantom and Swiss had stolen the batteries out of the clock for some….some weird fucking prank they wanted to play on Aurora. Who the fuck really knows what those two get up to in their free time. 

Dew picks up his phone, turning it over to see the time. 3 pm. His face breaks into a smile, reaching all the way to his eyes creating little crinkles in the corners. 3 pm means that extracurriculars around the Abbey are dismissed for the afternoon. It means a certain water ghoul is almost finished for the day.

Dew jumps up from his chair, picking his guitar up, unplugging, and placing it carefully back in its case. He’s less cautious with the rest of his things,  throwing his sheet music haphazardly into the cabinet against the wall and snatching his jacket off of the couch in the corner. He throws it over his shoulders, but in his haste he misses and the jacket ends up over his head instead, getting caught on his horns and covering his eyes. Dew growls impatiently, ripping the jacket off his head and stuffing his arms into the sleeves before running over to the door, wrenching it open and darting out into the hallway.

Continue below, or read on AO3 HERE!

A passing Sibling of Sin stops dead in his tracks, staring in surprise at the fire ghoul bursting through the door.

“Eh heh…Sorry, Brother,” Dew mutters sheepishly, pausing to straighten his clothes and sweep his long hair out of his face. He waits for the Brother to disappear around the corner before turning heel and speed walking in the other direction, breaking into a jog as soon as he’s certain that he’s alone.  

He flies through the hallways, so excited he’s practically skipping. Normally Dew wouldn’t be caught dead skipping of all things, and he’s sure he presents a funny picture in his heavy Doc Martens, ripped jeans, and leather jacket covered in patches. The corridors are clogged with people moving from one place to the next as classes and meetings are dismissed for the day.  Dew catches a sister’s eye, and she giggles behind her hand with her friend at the fire ghoul basically weaving and dancing through the bustling mass of Siblings. Warmth tinges his cheeks for a moment and he falters in his step, but he shakes it off. 

Today is a good day, nothing is going to ruin today. 

Dew crosses the courtyard and enters a walkway covered in trees and ivy growing over the worn stone walls, a quieter one than the organized chaos he had just left behind. He pauses for a moment, a slight shudder running down his back and he lets his breath out in a huff. He had scarcely noticed that he had been holding his breath during that traverse through the busy corridor he had just been in. Despite having the ability to play to crowds of thousands night after night, being in the crowd is another matter entirely. He takes another deep breath and continues on his way, this time choosing to pad more softly towards a door that is slightly ajar at the end of the hall. He stops at the threshold and opens the door quietly, peeking in through the gap.

“Do you want some help? Oh, no, you just want me to see? That’s very good! Well done.”

Dew smiles, warmth glowing in his chest at the sight in front of him. He isn’t really one for kits or children, personally. There’s nothing wrong with them, they’re great. But they are also loud, sticky, and touchy. What he is one for, however, is watching Rain with the abbey kits and children. The water ghoul loves kids and happily volunteers his time as the nursery art and music teacher for the little ones when the band is on their off season from touring.

“Rain! Rain! Lookit mine!”

“Yeah! Me too!”

Dew watches as Rain laughs and moves from one small table to the next, examining and praising each one of them excitedly as the kits and children show off their art to their teacher. Their little hands are raised high above their heads and they bounce eagerly on the balls of their feet. Tails for those that possess them swish happily when Rain smiles and coos and points out his favorite parts of each piece. 

“Okay everyone! That’s all our time for today! I’ll see you on Friday, and don’t forget to collect and bring your leaves and flowers for our next project!”

Dew jumps aside as the door flies open the rest of the way, a wave of little bodies rushing through the door and into the courtyard to play in the afternoon sun. He peeks back into the room and watches Rain pad from one table to the next, cleaning up little messes here and there,  before striding through the entry towards the water ghoul. His water ghoul. Dew’s boot squeaks on the hardwood floor, and Rain looks up at the sound. His eyes soften at the sight of the fire ghoul weaving his way towards him through the maze of tiny chairs and tables. 

Dew pauses, restrained by the tangle of miniature furniture. He resigns his efforts and opens his arms looking at Rain with big, exasperated eyes. Rain giggles and strides over to the ghoul trapped in the middle of the room, long legs easily stepping over the obstacles separating the two of them. Rain steps into Dew’s arms and Dew trills happily, relaxing in the scent of petrichor and sea salt and holding Rain tightly. Rain slips into the embrace with a sigh, burying his nose in Dew's long golden hair and inhaling deeply. Their tails unglamour and twine together as they just hold each other for a moment.

“Hello, love.”

“Hi, Rainy,” Dew replies with a crooked smile. 

“How was your day?” 

“S’okay. Worked on some new music,” Dew presses his head softly under Rain’s chin. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Rain murmurs into Dew’s hair.

Dew draws back, looking into Rain’s face. His eyes draw to a smudge of paint on Rain’s cheek and he chuckles.

“What are you laughing at?”

“You’ve got remnants of kid on your face, Tadpole,” Dew smirks, “Here, let me just–”

He licks at his thumb and reaches up to wipe away the smear of purple on Rain’s face. Rain chirps and leans into the pressure, pressing his cheek into Dew’s hand and Dew shifts to cup his face in his palm. He runs his thumb over a sharp cheekbone and his eyes explore his ghoul’s face again. That dark curly hair and the strong straight nose. The cerulean blue eyes, the creamy pale skin. Those full, soft lips. 

Gods, he’s so pretty.

Dew moves his hand to gently hold around the back of Rain’s neck and pulls the taller ghoul down. He presses his mouth softly to Rain’s, planting a chaste kiss on the water ghoul’s lips. A quiet purr builds in his chest and he goes in for seconds, his mouth moving gently against Rain’s as he wraps his other arm around Rain’s slender waist, pulling him in closer. 

Rain hums into the kisses, threading his fingers through Dew’s hair and cradling the small ghoul’s face in his hands. Dew leans into  it, feeling emboldened, lips moving more fervently now. He slips his tongue out to run along Rain’s bottom lip, tasting freshwater and the remnants of some fruity flavor. He smiles against the other ghoul’s mouth, recognizing the hard candies Rain sneaks when he thinks the kids aren’t looking. The sweet taste spurs him on and he presses closer, bidding Rain to let him slip his tongue into his mouth.

“Love, this is my classroom, we can’t do this here,” Rain giggles against Dew’s lips.

Dew glances around before shrugging and resuming his attentions, “There’s nobody around, it's fine. C’mere…” He surges back up trying to capture Rain’s lips in another exuberant kiss.

“Dew…” Rain pulls back, his eyes stormy.

“Rain…” Dew throws his arms around Rain’s neck and reaches up on tiptoes to nip at his earlobe. 

Rain reaches back to grasp Dew’s slender wrists, one in each hand, pulling them back from around his neck. He holds Dew’s hands captive between them, eyes glinting as he looks down at the fire ghoul through the dark curls framing his face.

“Dewdrop.” 

Dew’s stomach swoops at his tone.

“Rainy,” Dew murmurs.

“Don’t Rainy me, Dew,” Rain says quietly. He bends his head down and plants soft kisses around Dew’s face.

“We can't…kiss… do this here. Smooch…someone…kiss..can come in…lick…and see us.”

“Rain–” Dew whines softly. He squirms and gasps quietly when Rain grips his wrists a little more tightly. 

“Later, love,” Rain whispers in Dew’s ear, giving him a kitten lick around the shell before planting one last kiss on the tip of his nose, “Behave for me, hmm?”

Dew melts, nodding dumbly back at him. That irresistible siren nature always gets him. He’d do whatever Rain asks just for the privilege of receiving his praise. 

“That’s my good boy.”

Rain lifts Dew’s hands to his lips, giving them each a soft kiss before releasing them back to the smaller ghoul. Dew squirms again and gives a little grumble. Rain winks, turns Dew around by his shoulders and gives him a gentle swat on the ass, nudging the fire ghoul towards the open door. 

“C’mon, babe. I just need to stop by the library to return these books and then we can go home.”

“Yeah…alright,” Dew resigns, “But–here, gimme those,” he gestures to the stack of books Rain had picked up from his desk in the corner.

Rain protests, but only for a moment before handing them over with a smile, an ever-so-slight lavender blush tingeing his cheeks. Dew isn’t often soft like this, at least not around other people. This particular brand of chivalry is really only reserved for him, and he cherishes it every time Dew offers. 

The two ghouls exit the classroom, rejoining the flow of people making their way back to their respectives dorms and rooms. Dew breathes out a quiet sigh of relief at the reduced crowdedness in the hallways. This is much better than how it was earlier. He shifts Rain’s books into the crook of one arm, reaching out to take Rain's hand and threads their fingers together. It's just simple and sweet, not an over-the-top public display of affection at all but Dew's stomach still clenches when he notices people glancing at their joined hands as they stroll towards the library. He ducks his head, hiding his face behind his hair as the tips of his ears heat up. 

It’s stupid, this isn't something he should be embarrassed about. He loves Rain. It's just….feely and vulnerable. And there's people around to see it. 

He considers pulling his hand away but feels Rain squeezing his fingers reassuringly and he glances up from behind his hair.

“Hey, you're okay,” Rain whispers, not wanting to call more attention to Dew and embarrass him.

Dew nods, huffing out his held breath and adjusting the books in his arm. He squeezes Rain's hand three times. I love you.

Three squeezes back. I love you too.

***

“I’ll be quick, just give me a second to put these back and then we can head home. Just stay here,” Rain leaves Dew at the library desk and disappears into the shelves. 

Dew, of course, does not just stay here, and wanders off looking at whatever catches his eye. He meanders over to a corner where he finds Aether at a table surrounded by stacks of old tomes. He peeks at one on top: Magic and its Effects on Human Physiology. 

“Hey, I need that,” The quintessence ghoul looks up over his glasses as Dew lifts the cover with a claw, inspecting the title page before letting the cover fall closed again. 

“The fuck is all of this?” Dew eyes the stack of books closest to him, which when sitting on the table is almost as tall as he is. 

Aether leans back in his chair with a heavy sigh. He perches his reading glasses up on his head and rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. He gestures towards the books crowding the table.

“I’m doing research on a patient case. The poor fool tried to turn himself into an earth ghoul because he thought it would make his work as a groundskeeper easier. Turns out he used the wrong ingredients and mispronounced a few words and now I have a damn dryad hybrid in my infirmary. I have a dryad hybrid and his tiny coworker who won’t leave my office because ‘his idiot bitchass needs to be fixed yesterday cuz we have sapling trees to plant this week and I’m not fucking doing it all myself just because he’s a lazy piece of shit.’” Aether air quotes the last statement, imitating a slight New Jersey accent. 

Dew’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and he snorts quietly in an effort to stifle his laughter, “Mhmm…and Mountain didn’t have anything to say about this? Nothing he can do to help the guy change back?”

Aether huffs, planting his palms on the table and looking at the smaller ghoul with an eyebrow cocked, exasperated, “This is beyond Earth Magic. Herbs only go so far, Dew.”

Dew chirps and puts his hands up as if to concede, “Fair enough, big guy. Have fun with your books.”

Aether acknowledges him with a grunt, nose already buried back in the medical text.

Dew leaves him to his work, wandering away to go find Rain. He finds him deep in the stacks, reaching to place his last book on a high shelf. Dew notices Rain’s shirt riding up a bit with the stretch, revealing the lean, muscled plain of the water ghoul’s stomach and that little trail of hair that disappears beneath his waistband, and Dew just can’t help himself.

He slinks up behind Rain, wrapping his arms around him and running his hands under Rain’s shirt up his stomach and chest, purring. Rain jumps at the unexpected contact, emitting a surprised squeak. Dew grins into Rain’s back and gives him a little nip on his shoulder blade. It’s rare that he’s able to fully take Rain by surprise but it’s fun to take advantage of it when it happens. 

“Are you serious, Dew? We’re in the fucking library,” Rain hisses over his shoulder.

“What? It’s not like anyone comes back here ever,” Dew whispers back, pressing in closer to roll his hips into Rain’s ass. 

His heart beats hopefully as Rain leans back into the pressure, but it’s short lived as the taller ghoul spins to face him, grabs him by the shoulders and whirls him around to push him up against the bookshelf. 

“I already told you, be good,” Rain murmurs, his face close to Dew’s as he tries to keep the huskiness from creeping into his voice.

Dew pouts and sticks his bottom lip out, “But your butt is so cute and you smell so good,” he pouts harder, taking full advantage of his big amber eyes “Can’t help myself.”

Rain chuckles, leaning in to plant a kiss on Dew’s forehead, “Patience, love.”

Dew’s eyes flutter shut and he moans quietly as Rain’s scent grows stronger with the increased proximity, his face flushing.

Gods, it’s embarrassing how easy he is for him. 

“You’re not being fair, teasing me like this,” Dew mutters. His pupils dilate as Rain raises a hand to rest gently against his throat.

“I’m not being fair? I’m not the one trying to get in my pants in public spaces,” Rain smirks, “I thought you promised to behave. I told you to wait at the front desk, but now you are the one teasing me,” He squeezes lightly, and Dew gasps.

Dew whimpers when Rain backs away and holds his hand out towards the fire ghoul.

“C’mon, let's go home before we start fucking in the dusty bookshelves.”

“Who wouldn’t want to fuck in the dusty bookshelves?” Dew mutters under his breath.

Rain snorts, squeezing Dew’s hand as he leads them towards the exit.

***

Dew sits at the kitchen island in the ghouls’ den, kicking his bare feet dangling from the barstool while he watches Rain move around the kitchen. The water ghoul is assembling the ingredients for carbonara, Dew’s favorite, and his mouth waters at the smell of guanciale sizzling in the enamel dutch oven on the stove. Rain comes to stand in front of him, concentrating on whisking a mixture of egg yolks and parmesan cheese. A small furrow appears above his brow from focus. A silky black curl falls into his eyes and Dew is tempted to reach across the counter to smooth it away from his face. He resists, choosing instead to scroll aimlessly through his phone. 

He’s trying to behave. He wants to be good.

After a short time, he peeks over his phone at Rain again. Now, the lanky ghoul is facing away from him, removing the pasta from the water and setting aside some water to add to the egg mixture later. Dew slides down from the stool, entranced by the outline of the muscles in Rain’s shoulders under his shirt, his shoulder blades prominent through the fabric. It wouldn't hurt to just…touch, right? 

He pads around the island, standing behind Rain and pressing his forehead against the water ghoul’s back.With a soft chirp, he places his hands on his back on top of Rain’s shirt and begins kneading at the muscle hiding underneath. Rain's spent all day hunching over tiny tables to help tiny children and tiny kits. Dew would be remiss to let him finish out the day with soreness and knots in his back from teaching the little ones. He works quietly, the heat from his hands coaxing a low purr from Rain while he cooks as the knots unwork themselves one by one. 

“Feels good, love,” Rain murmurs.

“Yeah?” Dew purrs, deft fingers busy pressing to the water ghoul’s muscled  lower back.

Rain hums appreciatively, busy finishing cooking the spaghetti in the dutch oven before its time to add in the egg and cheese mixture.

Dew takes a breath, “...Wanna feel even better?”

Taking a chance, he slinks around to Rain’s front, between the taller ghoul and the stove. 

He rests his palms on Rain’s chest and looks up, large eyes round and hopeful. Rain crosses one long leg over the other and leans forward casually with his hands on the counter, encasing the fire ghoul in a cage of his arms. He looks down at Dew, a smirk spreading across his handsome face and crinkling his nose. 

“What did you have in mind?”

Dew reaches up on his tiptoes, pressing his lips to Rain’s neck. He mouths the skin there softly and nuzzles his nose into the scent gland just behind his ear, happily breathing in his favorite scent in the world. Rain rumbles low in his chest, pressing closer. Dew starts moving lower, traveling down to kiss over his chest, down to his stomach, slowly sinking down until he’s on his knees in front of Rain, sitting back on his heels. He looks up at the water ghoul as he runs his hands up Rain’s legs to rest on his thighs. 

“Please?” Dew breathes.

Rain brings his tail round front between them, placing the spade under Dew’s chin and tipping his head back further to expose his throat.

“What do you want, Dew?” Rain asks quietly, eyes glinting.

Dew swallows heavily and exhales a shaky breath, “Wanna be good for you.”

Rain purrs, threads his fingers through Dew’s hair and gently pushes his head towards his hips. Dew grasps the back of Rain’s thighs and buries his face in Rain’s crotch, rubbing his cheek, nosing and licking at the fabric of his pants and breathing in deeply his concentrated scent. Dew whimpers as he mouths at the fabric and Rain’s cock semi-awake underneath. He licks along the zipper, feeling Rain’s cock stir under his tongue and he moans softly.

“Shhhh…If you want to do this then you need to be quiet while I finish making dinner,” Rain warns, pressing Dew’s face more firmly into his slowly growing bulge, gagging him.

Dew mewls quietly, now muffled, trying to reign in his noises. He wants to be a good boy, wants to be quiet like Rain told him to. He reaches towards Rain’s zipper but hesitates, looking up again.

“Can I?” He asks shyly, amber eyes peeking through his lashes.

Rain pauses what he’s doing, peering down towards Dew at his feet.

“Go ahead,” he nods casually before going back to working on the pasta.

Dew undoes the button and carefully pulls the zipper down. He leans forward to mouth at Rain’s dick through the patch of boxers peeking through the denim before pulling his length out. It kicks in his hand, exposed to the cold air, and Dew struggles to hold back a whimper at the sight of the small pearl of pre already beading at the tip. He gives the slit a little kitten lick, shuddering at the salty taste of Rain’s pre. 

It coats his tongue and he whines quietly. Gods, so good. 

Dew suckles on the head, feeling fuzziness begin to creep in at the edge of his consciousness. Another whine escapes his throat and he scooches closer on his knees, moving his tongue to lick along the shaft. The fire ghoul moves his head back, teasing the underside of the head with his tongue before sinking slowly down onto Rain’s length. It sits heavy on his tongue and his eyes slip shut as he moves gently up and down Rain’s dick. 

He presses the tip of his tongue against the thick vein that runs along the underside and hollows his cheeks. He hears Rain curse quietly.

“Shit, Dewdrop…so warm,” He hisses under his breath, gripping the counter.

Dew hums, relaxing his tongue and jaw. His hands move around the backside of Rain’s thighs to grasp the taller ghoul’s round buttocks. He kneads into the flesh, moaning softly as he continues moving slowly up and down the cock in his mouth. On his knees at Rain’s feet is where he wants to be. This feels right. This is where he belongs.

Rain trills quietly above his head as he stirs the egg mix into the pasta. He places the bowl in his hand down on the counter and looks down at the little ghoul in front of him. Dew’s eyes are closed, eyebrows slightly upturned. 

Rain reaches down, scratching lightly at Dew’s scalp behind his ear and rubs the base of his horn with a thumb as he stirs the pasta with the other hand. Dew purrs, nestling in closer while he lightly suckles on the length of Rain’s cock, still kneading the meat of his ass. He squeezes the muscle three times, trilling at Rain’s reply of three gentle tugs on his hair.

I love you.

I love you too.

The fire ghoul’s mind is blissfully quiet and happily floating in a cocktail of submissiveness and pheromones from the scent gland near the base of Rain’s dick. 

“You're so pretty like this,” Rain murmurs, stroking Dew’s hair. He moves a finger and lightly traces along Dew’s lips stretched around his girth, shiny and slick with spit “Doing so well for me.”

Dew keens at the praise and he hears Rain groan low in his chest through the delicious fog in his mind as his mouth moves more exuberantly on Rain’s length, yearning badly to be deserving of his praise. He grips the taller ghoul’s ass closer with both hands, spindly fingers digging into the firmness of the muscle. More precum weeps from Rain’s dick and runs over the back of Dew’s tongue. He drinks it down, humming gratefully in his throat. Thank you.

Rain gasps at the tight, wet feeling enveloping his cock and his hips buck forward of their own accord, thrusting deeper towards the back of Dew's hot, silky mouth for a brief moment, touching his throat. Dew gags, whimpering and shifting closer once again as he straddles one of Rain's legs.

“Easy love, I’m still finishing up dinner. Don’t wanna drop something on my good boy,” Rain coos, his hand paused over the pot where he’s pouring the cooked guanciale and shredded parmesan into the carbonara, “No thoughts left in that pretty little head now, hmm? Just a nice warm, wet hole all for me,” he gives another shallow thrust into Dew's mouth.

Dew moans a sigh around the cock his mouth, trying to shake his head. He's floating, content in knowing he doesn't have to make any decisions or have any meaningful thoughts. Rain is here. Rain will take care of him. 

Slick begins to soak into his boxers and through the haze he can feel his pussy leaking, lips swollen with arousal. A hint of desperation colors his cheeks and he begins to squirm around Rain's leg, wanting to sit down onto the water ghoul's boot and rub his pussy into it but needing to wait for permission. Dew is Rain's pretty, good boy after all, and good boys need to wait to be told what to do. He pulls back from Rain’s cock, looking up with wet eyes. He whines pitifully, words having already been lost to the fog of subspace. 

Rain glances down, a thick eyebrow arched as he eyes the little ghoul squirming on his knees, “Do you need something?”

Dew whines again, gripping the fabric of Rain’s pants. His hips roll against the taller ghoul’s shin, despite his efforts to remain still.

“Dew, use your words. Ask.”

Dew shakes his head, a whimper spilling from his throat. There are no words anymore. 

Rain chuckles, “Does my pretty dumb boy need some extra attention? I thought this was supposed to be about you making me feel good.”

Dew mewls, his hands shaking on Rain’s thigh, “P-please Rainy…” He chokes out, “I–I need you–don’t…tease…” he sniffs, tears welling in his rising desperation. 

His hips roll again, a hint of embarrassment coloring his scent at the fact that he just can’t help himself. His ears redden with shame; he’s such a little slut.

Rain watches the fire ghoul affectionately. He’s trying so hard to be good and listen. Rain can smell the smoky desperation in Dew’s scent as the little ghoul at his feet tries to continue sucking on his cock like he’s supposed to; he’s trying hard to be obedient and not just hump mindlessly into Rain’s leg like he wants to so badly. He can also smell the slick leaking from Dew’s pussy, making a mess in his boxers. Combined with the rich smell of the finished pasta on the stove in front of him, it makes his mouth water. He shifts his foot to press his foot up into Dew’s cunt. Pretty boys deserve to be rewarded.

“Go ahead, love.”

Dew sobs with a garbled thankyouthankyouthankyou, practically melting down onto Rain’s foot and grinding into the leather, slick soaking through his jeans at the pressure and into the toe of the boot like some perverted kind of polish. His mouth goes straight back to Rain’s dick and he sinks all the way down to the base, licking and sucking with renewed fervor, grateful to Rain for allowing him to make the taller ghoul feel good, but also for the chance to make himself feel good as well. That wave of submissiveness, of being a good doll for Rain to use for his pleasure crashes over him and pulls him right back down to that comfortable warm space in his mind where he doesn’t think, he only feels and obeys.

He feels Rain change the angle of his foot to tilt up and Dew immediately  begins grinding his clit against the rough rubber of the sole. The sweet sounds spilling from his mouth pitch up as Rain covers the enamel pot, sets it on the back of the stove and reaches down to grip Dew's hair with both hands, groaning and doubling over slightly. It’s not like Dew’s affections throughout the afternoon haven’t had an affect on him. The fire ghoul is still capable of being a siren in his own right,  and now Rain’s cool, careful control is beginning to crumble as Dew’s enthusiastic, hot mouth and sinful noises break down his defenses.

Rain pulls Dew’s head away from his dick, and Dew whines sadly at the sudden emptiness. He looks up from between the water ghoul’s hands on his cheeks, eyes big and mournful. Despite the whimpers spilling from his throat at the lack of cock in his mouth, his hips continue rolling, the need to grind himself into Rain’s boot thoroughly out of his control.

“C’mere,” Rain growls as he bends down to scoop Dew up off the floor.

Dew just mewls, allowing Rain to manipulate his limbs and situate him on the kitchen counter. Rain steps between his legs, crowding into his space. Dew gasps as Rain reaches to undo the button of his pants and shimmies them down his hips just enough to reach into his underwear and rub at the wet little nub between his legs. Slick quickly covers Rain’s fingers and Dew cries out as his nerves light up with pleasure, rocking his hips forward into Rain’s hand.

Rain rests their foreheads together, breathing heavily. He flicks his tongue out, desperate to catch some of Dew’s taste on his breath between them. 

“You win, Dew. You have me,” Rain murmurs, reaching in to mouth at Dew’s neck, inhaling his smoky scent and licking at his scent gland. 

He pulls back, sealing his lips together with Dew’s, kissing him deeply. His tongue slips against Dew’s and the fire ghoul trills, his mind going quiet and fuzzy again, happy to have Rain’s hand on his clit and Rain’s tongue filling his mouth.

“You’re so good for me, love, so beautiful,” Rain whispers breathlessly, smiling against Dew’s lips when Dew keens at the praise, squirming in his hold and against the hand on his clit. He moves his hand lower to pet against the smaller ghoul’s folds and presses a finger against his hole. He moans at how soft and wet Dew feels against his hand. It’s so warm and silky, coating his fingers like a glove. Dew mewls into Rain’s mouth and wraps his tail around Rain’s waist, seeking grounding and subconsciously trying to pull the water ghoul closer.

Rain loves getting Dew like this: out of his head, pliant, relaxed, unburdened. His fire ghoul shoulders so many burdens from day to day, past and present. It’s good when they get a chance to be like this, together. He loves calling Dew his good, pretty boy and watching him get all soft and fall apart with his eyes glazed over. Dew might act loud and bold with everyone else, but Rain knows it’s just a front for the insecurity and anxiety that Dew knows he’s safe from with his water ghoul.

Dew whimpers as Rain takes his hand away, his hips hitching forward in an effort to try and follow the loss of pressure on his cunt. 

“Nnno–”

“Shhh love, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Dew watches the taller ghoul take his cock in his hand and lube himself up with the not-small amount of slick glistening on his fingers.

“You’ve been doing so well for me, listening so nicely. Do you want something better now? Do you want me to fuck you, Dew?”

Dew looks at Rain with wide eyes, then looks behind him at the open doorway to the den. Despite the fog in his mind it slowly registers to him that even though it’s just him and Rain in the kitchen, someone could still walk through the door. It was one thing when he was on his knees sucking Rain’s dick, hidden by the kitchen island. This is the ghouls’ private wing, but someone could still see.

He wants to say yes, he wants so badly for Rain to finally shove his cock into his pussy and fuck him right here on the kitchen counter. But, Rain had also said that he didn’t want to do this where other people might see. Rain said no. Dew is a good boy, he wants to listen.

Distress creeps into his delicate features and he starts breathing rapidly, his tail unwinding from Rain’s waist and curling tightly around his own leg. This is a trap, a test to see if Dew really is as good as he said he wanted to be. But he wants this so much… 

He whines, looking up at Rain with tears flooding his eyes.

“Hey–hey, what’s this? What’s wrong?” Rain cradles his face gently, pressing their horns together in comfort, “Breathe, babe. It’s okay.”

Dew chokes back a sob, tears now threatening to spill over. He tries to hide, his face burning with shame. He’s not a good boy.

“S-someone might see…y-you said in private. W-wanna be good,” he mumbles, sniffling quietly.

Rain’s eyes widen, seeing his love beginning to drop, and he crushes the little ghoul into his chest, pressing soft kisses to the top of his head.

“Oh, my love,” He whispers into Dew’s hair, “You are.” 

Rain pulls away to look Dew in the eye, “I’m so proud of you for listening and trying to be obedient. But you know what I did on the way here? I texted everyone and told them to get lost for the evening so it can just be you and me,” he smiles, winking and pressing a soft kiss to the tip of Dew’s nose.

“R-really?” Dew’s heart rate begins to level out again.

“Really.”

Dew releases a slow breath. He wasn’t bad. Rain is proud of him.

He’s okay. He’s safe.

He’s Rain’s good boy.

He relaxes in Rain’s embrace, a quiet purr kicking up in his chest at the feeling of Rain stroking a hand over his hair, scratching his scalp lightly with his claws. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, he feels the taller ghoul shift and lean back to look at him. Rain tucks a lock of golden hair behind his ear. 

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, we can just eat dinner and cuddle in front of the fire. Do you want to be done or…do you want to keep going?” Rain asks, brow furrowed. His eyes search Dew’s face cautiously. 

Dew bites his lip, considering his options. 

He peers up at the water ghoul, “Rainy…am I good…for you?” he chews on his lip, amber eyes big.

Rain nods sincerely, taking Dew’s hands and pressing them to his chest to feel his heartbeat.

“You are the best for me, Dewdrop.”

Dew makes a small noise in his throat and lifts his arms to wind around Rain’s neck. He leans in, brushing the tip of his nose bashfully against Rain’s before pressing his lips to the other’s softly. He sighs as Rain returns the kiss. The water ghoul moves slowly, trying to assure Dew that he's safe by allowing him to set the pace. 

Dew chirps, scooching forward to hook his legs over Rain’s hips, wanting him closer. He grabs Rain’s hands and places them on his thighs, squirming and attempting to hook the water ghoul’s fingers into the waistband of his pants. 

Rain gets the message, hurrying to slip Dew’s pants the rest of the way off his body and flinging them off to the side. He quickly shoves his pants down to his ankles, grabs Dew’s legs, and pulls the smaller ghoul in to wrap them around his waist. 

Their lips collide and they melt into each other’s mouths, gasping and moaning, tongues dancing and sliding over each other. Dew mewls, eyes closed and eyebrows upturned, as Rain presses his hips into his and begins slowly sliding his cock through his slick, warm folds. The tip kisses his clit with every gentle thrust and Dew cants his hips forward, seeking more pressure and friction. They move together, hands exploring and removing any remaining articles of clothing.

“F-fuck, love, you feel so good,” Rain runs his hands up Dew’s back, holding him between his shoulder blades, pressing their chests close together. Skin to skin. He trembles with the effort to not just slide right into Dew’s warm wet pussy and take his pretty boy the way he so desperately wants to. He buries his face in Dew’s neck, licking and biting under his ear and along his throat, whining into Dew’s hot, smoky skin. 

Dew shudders, feeling so small enveloped in Rain’s arms with the taller ghoul’s wide hands spanning almost the entirety of his back. His mind is blank save for his awareness of the fire and need burning in his gut. 

“Please, Rainy,” he pleads, voice cracking with need as Rain thrusts his cock with more fervor against his cunt. It’s so messy, the wet sounds coming from between their bodies, sweaty from the heat of the kitchen, are borderline obscene with how slick they both are.

“Tell me,” Rain gasps, holding back with all the restraint he has. His hands grip Dew’s shoulder blades, hips bucking forward and causing his cock to catch on Dew’s hole before sliding up and nailing his clit. 

Dew’s body jolts at the sudden zing of arousal. Overwhelmed, the tears finally spill over, “Need it, pleaseRainyIneed–Ohhh, '' he moans high in his throat as Rain finally pushes in, sliding all the way home in one go. Finally.

He throws his arms around Rain’s neck, fingers weaving through the water ghoul’s curly black hair as Rain cries out at how tight and warm feeling Dew’s pussy is clenching around his cock. He starts thrusting, eyes screwed shut, and Dew clings to him for dear life as his hips pick up speed. The water ghoul grasps Dew’s hips and moves him against the motion of his thrusts. He pushes Dew away and then pulls him back as he snaps his hips forward, groaning and whimpering with each impact. Dew lets him, his breaths coming in punched out gasps and moans as each thrust hits that spot that lights up his nerves and leaves his gut tight and hot. He can feel how tight his cunt is and it makes Rain’s already impressive cock feel huge.

The knot in his stomach begins to tighten, and he rolls his hips forward to grind his clit on Rain’s little trail of hair. The muscles in his gut tense, Dew moans and squeezes the back of Rain’s neck to get his attention. Rain pulls his face from the crook of Dew’s neck, breathes coming in pants. His hair is sweat soaked and messy, his cerulean eyes blown out and wild with lust. 

“Nnneed to cum,” Dew’s gasp cuts off with a whine at a particularly deep thrust, “C-can I cum? Been goo–ahhhh!” He cries out when Rain wholly picks him up, supporting the little ghoul’s body as he bounces Dew on his cock, reaching a new level of depth.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. So good for me. M’so close, Dew. Come with me,” Rain’s hips begin to falter in their rhythm as his balls draw up against his body and he fucks into Dew’s cunt harder, chasing his end.

Rain lunges forward and crushes their lips together, whining and trembling against Dew’s mouth as he grips his claws into Dew’s waist and slams home one last time, grinding his hips hard into Dew’s clit and triggering the fire ghoul’s own release as his cock pulses and fills Dew’s cunt fluttering and clenching around him, squeezing him impossibly tight, milking him for everything he has to give. Dew comes undone with a gasp and a gush of slick, his body seizing and legs shaking around Rain’s waist. His eyes roll back in his head and he’s pulled under by the weight of his orgasm, his vision growing dark and his hearing muted. 

***

Rain comes down first, supporting Dew and petting over his sides as the little ghoul whimpers and shudders in his hold. He winces with how tight Dew still is as he slides out slowly, heart clenching at the sad sounds that fall from Dew’s lips at the loss. Dew’s tail comes to wrap around his arm and Rain kisses him in between his horns as he scoops Dew up behind his back and under his knees and sinks slowly to the floor, leaning back against the kitchen cabinets and cradling Dew in his lap. He holds him close and murmurs quiet praises into the fire ghoul’s golden hair, telling him how beautiful he is, how good he is. He purrs as Dew stirs and nuzzles into his chest, enjoying the warmth and the closeness as he comes back to consciousness. Dew peers up at him, blinking the oncoming drowsiness from his amber eyes. He trills softly, reaching up to cup Rain’s face before closing his eyes and nestling back down in the larger ghoul’s chest, not quite ready for real words just yet. 

Rain chirps in reply and bends his head down closer to his ghoul’s face. He plants gentle kisses on the tip of Dew’s nose, followed by his forehead, and lastly, his lips. He smiles when he feels a small, warm hand squeeze three times into the muscle of his chest right over his heart. He puts his hand over the fingers splayed on his chest, squeezing three times in return.

I love you.

I love you too. 

[campgender]

image description: two screenshots of a text document. dated january 21st 2025:

i feel beyond articulation. too disabled to Dom, crip-switch, long distance what even. voice of God with tic & tremor. i feel insecure in a way that rattles, that sh-sh-shakes instrumental off the side of my bed, rolls & pools like some fabled femme's long-lost yarn, Deus ex feminized labor. my insecure is stretching its calves. too Stone for the flex of rope: i wouldn't touch them like this book says even if they were within reach.

remember Rogue at 16? remember how far we feared this, & right back around? i'm the one who needs gloves, goddamn it, armor to the wrist. even if i held them it wouldn't be human contact.

what would it take to convince our subculture that distance isn't a dream? distance isn't a thought experiment. distance doesn't diminish control in every context.

dated january 27th 2025:

fuck it: i scavenge sub playlists for my Domspace music. i glue on pale pink nails & buy more hairbows. i bottom, i bottom, i bottom. i outmaneuver: pervert hermit, too far removed for their standards to find purchase, out of reach of their roles.

oh but i feel like static & he says artful. finds the smooth in my staccato. it's true, i'm unfazed in adaptation; my goal is to be prepared for a no in any moment. i know i'm playing a different game than she was, all off-ramps & technical manuals, but it's hard to see the miracle of engineering from this angle. mostly i just worry about being boring.

end image description.

[maggiebug-417]

When I met the boy with hair like the sun and eyes so green 

I felt my heart sore like it was trying to tell me something 

I myself had hair more like the sky eyes the same green 

A little later he gave me a flower I made a joke we were marred then 

In the world we lived in had lives of three I shouldn’t have been so naive 

But he was so sweet hair and wings both golden smile always making me fall in love over again 

We lived peacefully in our flower filled valley 

Till the point his eyes when from yellow to red then the war came 

The calm peaceful days turned to stress daily 

Then I lost him, golden wings canary ones gone 

I lost myself in grief and to revenge 

In the end I was gone by dawn 

I did see my beloved Petal in the next world 

a world of Castles and Rulers where I didn’t even see his face 

and yet I feel in love the same way as before a whirl

He had a solid cooper carved mask with a hair covering 

But I could still tell same kind demeanor 

He was a tad more fishy and as I was also discovering

I was also different the one with the wings and strange powers 

Also the one who seemed to be cursed by the gods

But even with the evil gods and brothers he still got mysterious flowers  

At some point the Evil brother and god weren’t a threat

And he got to learn that the boy with hair so golden had normal brown eyes

That was the time the time of love peace and no sweat 

However things for them never seemed to last 

The perfectness faded in an attempt for peace 

In an attempt for peace against contrast 

The boy with the golden hair blew up the world

That caused mass chaos end in the end 

I was the one to the end world before he could even join me a loud skirl

On on we when finding each other and then one of us losing the other

Till we lived again in a world of rulers and empires again 

He had his golden messy hair and wings again, beautiful normal brown eyes I was the different one this time rather 

Dark teal hair, one golden eye that matched him from a mistake the other a soft light blue

I’ll admit I flirted with my husband of two past lives quite a bit 

But was told a few times that what are you so persistent in pursue

I was because all I’ve wanted in lives was to grow old with the boy with golden hair

Be able to watch that golden hair grow to a silver watch the time pass with him at my side 

But in this life it didn’t seem like something he wanted to bare

However I was not giving up till he was in my arms the man of the law held by a thief

It would not be something meant to be but if it wasn’t why does the universe bring us near

I really didn’t want this to end again in grief 

It didn’t this time eventually he crumbled to my advances 

It was a hot day and day of confessions 

And this time we didn’t end in a game of chances 

[sirmacintosh]

I can't find my laptop charger I kinda want to longingly stare at a Google doc instead of writing asoiaf fanfiction

[mac-on-emberflitalley]

Dark Signs - Chp 3

Summary: Viktor and Jayce meet up again, and Viktor learns more about what kind of person his new friend is.

Read now on AO3!

Chp 1 here

[crippleprophet]

hi this is kind of random but was your disability fic collection at any point called some variation of "letters from prometheus to the eagle"? that collection was my introduction to crip theory and now im trying to figure out if it was yours.

omg tysm for reaching out, yes that was mine!! i still have that collection just under a different name:

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

i really love hearing from people that they’ve learned something about disability theory from my fics it makes me so happy!! thank you for this message <33