@c4tb1rd’s sideblog (interactions come from main) • MDNI/ 18+ • writing/art • 19 yrs old • Mary Goore’s side hoe
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once again thinking about unprofessional!aether who helps mountain with his bad back by straddling his ass, letting his quint flow through his fingertips while he massages his back and once mountain is pliant, he shuffles to sit over his thighs, tugging mountains pants down so he can stuff his cock into mounts perfectly loose hole, shushing him gently whilst telling him that it’ll help and to just trust him while he grinds into him
unprofessional!aether who takes advantage of aurora’s obvious distaste towards the speculum and offers her an unorthodox way to stretch her little cunt out. starting slow with two of his fingers, then three, then four and then suddenly he’s sinking his entire fist into aurora while she cries, whimpers, says that it’s too much but won’t let aether pull away from her, so he just smirks, tells her how well she’s doing for him and coos gently at her when she cums, clenching and gushing around his wrist
unprofessional!aether who accidentally writes down swiss’ appointment time wrong so when swiss walks into his office early he catches aether with his pants down around his thighs and his cock disappearing into the wet clutch of his fist and before he knows it, swiss is dropping down to his knees, barely managing to ask can i?, before aether is feeding his cock into swiss’ mouth, making swiss forget what he was even there for
unprofessional!aether who gives cirrus supplements and waits patiently for her to come back embarrassed because no matter how many times she cums her cock will not soften, aether just says it’s a side effect and that he knows how to help her. it’s totally professional when he gets her comfortable and jerks her off until she’s cumming in puddles over his office floor, until she’s crying that it hurts but it just feels so good, until she’s cumming dry and her cock has literally no choice but to soften
𖤐 ghouls masterlist 𖤐 psa!! this is all consensual, ty xoxo
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You feed us such delicious fics 😩
Thank you 🫡
Just doing my civic duty (giving the freaks something to crank the hog to)
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Worship 🙏🏼; TNDNBTG from Manchester
🎥: lauren.thomasson
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Maybe Aeth sorting/searching in his record collection with Dew conked out on the floor next to him.
so, you may have meant this innocently, but i imagined this as a series of events
why is dew dead? … because of what happened minutes before …
don’t worry, ill give you the full image this time <3
watch dew get destroyed instantly !!
thank you for the request !!! i love doing these !!!!
dewdrop design by @sentientgolfball <33
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Just wanted everyone to know that the ghouls frequently sleep like the grandparents in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
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still thinking about him... ✨ or them ✨
some close-ups:
#I need to pull on that collar#GOD I need them on their knees choking and drooling on it#who said that#mary goore
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It’s still WIP Wednesday somewhere so here’s my T shot fueled human au horny fic about Rain getting fucked by transfem milf Chain.
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papa fed swiss a little too much…
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Rain using a vibrator and giving it to mountain after to lick clean as a treat
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have you ever been ciriced on a cat piano before? now you have
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No bc Ivy/Aurora is real to me now.
Just imagine. Rory is back for some more weed and a few tea bags. You know, with THAT much needed, a higher return rate is expected. Sure, a single tea bag Ivy could get by with a handjob, but that much? No. He'll need more than that.
Aurora knows that, too. Pulling down her panties for him, unclipping her bra. Just smiling as she lets the earth ghoul cup her chest and squeeze, feeling up her sides and eventually lowering down to feel between her folds. Wet.
"Got so excited walking up here for you, baby bee." She's smiling, arms up on his shoulders since he's crouched down to feel her.
Ivy just starts purring, pulling back and almost instantly vines take his place. Ivy isn't super clean in his greenhouse like Mountain is. Prefers the overgrowth and the exposed earth rather than tarp and keeping things neatly trimmed. They're everywhere. Vines wrapping around her middle, spreading her thighs, lifting her arms. Her tits are circled around, and little butterworts attached to her nipples and sucking.
Doesn't even notice the much thicker vine hovering between her legs with another Butterworth waiting to latch to her clit until it flicks at her folds. Ivy is as hard as a rock, leaned up against his table as he watches and listens to Aurora moan and squirm, her slick dripping everywhere.
The butterworths are just leaving some sticky syrup in their tracks, keeping her nipples and clit sooo shiny. The thicker vine creeping up slower and slower before the tip presses in, Ivy in hypnosis as Aurora moans and how her body welcomes it. Her folds blossoming just like so many flowers he's grown in the years. But none as beautiful as that one.
Her body squeezed and chub on complete display, looking directly at the earth ghoul as she's fucked until an orgasm splatters on the ground below—and even more to follow. Three are rocked out in different positions by the vine, Ivy helping her down and slowly redressing his pretty customer. He doesn't want her to go just yet, and she's content trying to gather her brain again while against his chest.
Aurora limps away again, this time with two freebie joints.
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thinking abt swiss exploiting phantom’s praise kink to get him to do increasingly fucked up/gross/weird things… anyway
You know it's his favorite thing. Slinking up behind Aeon, curling his arms around his waist. Hands dipping under his t-shirt, thumbs dragging over his hip bones. Aeon huffing a little, leaning back while Swiss bends down and catches the shell of Aeon's ear in his teeth. Purring against him, whispering filth into his ear, asking, low and goading. "Will you be my good boy?" And feeling Aeon go a little boneless against him. The slightest sag in his knees, a little gasp. A jolt. Aeon's eyes slamming closed as he nods. And through it all, as Swiss works him open, or gives him glass after glass of water, or flips a knife through his fingers, Swiss' eyes glint with pride. His words are purrs of "so good for me" and "look at you, doing exactly what I said" and "just a little more baby--that's it, good job." And Aeon will melt a little more, wherever he is. Tongue to Swiss' boot laces. Laid out--exposed and stretched open. Shuddering with need, belly swollen and bladder aching. He looks at Swiss like he is everything, eyes wide and desperate, lips parted. Aeon is up for anything in most cases--but for Swiss? Swiss can break him of every hesitation. Every tiny little anxiety that holds him back, Swiss knows exactly how to break through it, how to unravel that knot and turn Aeon into a wet, shaking mess, with little more than a few words. And how can Swiss not exploit that? How can he not keep pushing that button to get exactly what he wants. They really are perfect for each other.
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Chain spends most of her time in the lake and whenever any of the water ghouls are sad they go to her den and she lets them lay their head on her chest while she purrs loud and deep enough to feel like a massage
She picked up crochet as a hobby while on the surface and makes her own hooks out of bone and spins yarn from lake plants. Every new water ghoul gets a handmade blanket from her woven with ancient protective magic.
Chain has an imposing presence but is actually quite sweet. She’s partially blind (deep sea creature) and has a lot of vertigo while on land. She still loves music and sometimes water ghouls can hear her singing all the way from the shallows of the lake.
She may be older by ghoul standards (50-60 in human years) but she’s still always up for an occasional romp in her nest. She still has ruts to take care of, after all…
Thinking about transfem Chain with a voice deeper than an ocean trench… god I love women
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Thinking about transfem Chain with a voice deeper than an ocean trench… god I love women
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TDF chapter 3: Smile
The past few months have been rough for me but I’m back on that fanfiction grind.
Dew is having a real bad time in this one. This is the only chapter where his headspace will get this dark so don’t worry, he’ll be fine. This is his rock bottom and he’s going up from here.
psps I made a playlist
Read below or on ao3!
Words: 4062
Warnings: Dissociation, self-destructive behavior/allusion to self-harm, BPD split and the thoughts that come with that, flashbacks, description of physical abuse and injury, description of emotional abuse, religious trauma, panic attack, vomit mention
Taglist: @skele-bunny @rain-loves-scallops @dewphomet @0-miles-away
Dew taps the bottom of a tiny espresso mug on the counter and tosses it back like a shot. Unfortunately, it’s very hot. He should’ve known that, considering he had just made it, but he was tired. Which is why he’s currently choking down a scalding shot of espresso at 8 in the morning.
“Fuck- god-“ Dew hisses, diving for the sink to fill the tiny cup with water to soothe his burning mouth. It helps a little. “Ow- goddamnit-“
Luckily everyone else is in the kitchen, so Dew is saved from embarrassment for now. He places the little mug into the dirty dish bin and returns his attention to setting up the grinders. Ow. There goes my sense of taste.
Cumulus pushes the curtain in the kitchen doorway out of the way, carrying a tray of various baked goods with her. Dew steps aside to let her pass and she gets to work stocking the glass display case.
“You doin’ alright, hun?” She asks, setting muffins onto a tray in perfectly even rows. “Sorry we had to call ya in early, Sunny’s got some kinda stomach bug.”
“I’m alright, it’s no problem.” Dew lies through his teeth. It’s not like he’d been up all night, grinding his teeth and pacing. He just has to make it through the next five hours and then he can go home and sleep.
Cumulus cocks a bushy eyebrow at him but says nothing. She offers him a cranberry muffin from the tray. Dew takes it gratefully.
“Take care of yourself today, Dew.” She tells him softly before turning back to the pastry trays. Dew nods silently, too busy shoving the muffin into his mouth to answer. He checks the clock- ten minutes to opening.
Luckily, he can somewhat taste the muffin with his scorched tongue. It cheers him up slightly. Unfortunately the heavy tightness in his chest and throat doesn’t budge. It’s been there since last night when the shell holding all his unhelpful emotions in a tight little ball cracked and began to leak.
“Well look who’s up!” Swiss crows, sweeping past Dew to restock the stack of paper to-go bags in a drawer behind the counter. “Never thought I’d see you conscious before ten AM. What was it? An act of god? Three ghosts showing up and convincing you to have a change of heart?”
“Sunny’s hangover, actually.” Dew rolls his eyes. “Didn’t think she’d be the kind of person to drink on a Sunday night.”
“Oh, no, she’s actually sick.” Swiss’s normally cheerful, slightly mischievous expression fades for a moment. “I got up at 5 to get her ginger ale and saltines, and you know how much she hates bothering people.” He chews on his lip.
“Shit, sorry.” Guilt joins the wad of half-chewed emotions in Dew’s gut. “I hope she’s doing okay.”
“Me too,” Swiss sighs. “She’ll be fine, don’t worry.” He takes the hair tie off his wrist and pulls his locs back into their usual high ponytail. “I would offer to take the register but Cirrus wants me in the kitchen.”
Dew sighs. “I’ll try not to kill anyone.”
“Good luck.” Swiss gives a two-finger salute and disappears back into the kitchen. Dew walks around the counter, trudges to the front door, and unlocks it. The neon ‘open’ sign is flicked on. Dew looks at his reflection in the window in the harsh light. He looks half-dead. Feels like it too.
He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and heaves a sigh. If he has to take an extra smoke break to give himself the strength to make it through his shift, so be it. His lungs aren’t getting any less shriveled.
Dew is pulled from his tired thoughts by a soft tap on the glass door. He sighs again and lowers his hands to pull the cafe door open. “Sorry, come in. Spaced out a bit.”
“No worries. Good to see you again, though!” A familiar voice, deep and smooth and the subject of a few late-night fantasies. Dew’s head snaps up fast enough to make his neck pop. Aether stands before him, wearing- oh good lord, are those scrubs ?
“Uh- give me a sec.” Dew scampers back behind the counter and takes the precious few seconds he has to process this new information. He curses his stupid medical kink. If there is a god, he has a sick sense of humor.
He taps on the dark screen of the register, willing it to turn on. After a few seconds of increasingly harder taps on the display, he realizes he should press the on button. Why didn’t he turn it on before opening?
“Um- it takes a minute to turn on.” Dew chuckles nervously. Unlike me, who’s pitching a tent over a customer in scrubs.
“That’s alright. I’m not in a hurry.” Aether smiles. “I usually wouldn’t come in until later but I have to shadow a nurse this morning. Twelve hour shift on a Monday.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.
“Is that what you’re studying?” Dew asks, his hands frantically navigating to the right screen. Curse this stupid digital register. “Nursing, I mean.”
“Yeah!” Aether seems to perk up. “I’m specializing in obstetrics and neonatal care. Midwife stuff.”
“Oh, that’s cool.” Dew answers sincerely. Would he give me a pelvic exam if I as-
SHUT UP, Dew scolds his horny thoughts. The register finally boots up to the transaction screen and he sighs with relief.
“What can I get for ya?” He asks, holding back a yawn. Aether considers the menu on the back wall for a moment.
“Hmm… I’d like a large iced dirty chai with… four shots of espresso.” Aether requests. Dew raises an eyebrow as he punches in the order.
“Four? You trying to meet a fifth dimensional being today?” He jokes, grabbing a cold cup and a sharpie.
To his surprise and delight, Aether giggles, ending in an adorable snort. “Nah, I just need a lotta energy. Twelve hour shift, remember?”
“Yeah- I think I’d do the same.” Dew rings up the order. “Uh- $7.43.”
Aether hands over a lightly crumpled ten and his punch card. Dew punches it- a smiley face this time- and slides it back over the counter with Aether’s change. “I’ll have that ready soon.”
“Thanks.” Aether smiles- that goddamn smile- and steps back to stuff his change back into his wallet. Dew’s tired mind drifts as he goes into autopilot making the espresso. He’d like to see that smile and those crooked teeth more. Especially if he was the one causing Aether to smile.
Then his daydreams come crashing down. A guy like Aether was surely taken. He had a partner, a fiancé, maybe even a spouse. Dew wasn’t going to break up a relationship because of a fleeting crush.
It’ll pass . He scolds himself. The chai concentrate and milk are added to the cup and the espresso is poured on top. You have to get yourself together. Focus on what’s important. He doesn’t smile as he slides the drink across the counter toward Aether.
“Here ya go,” he recites in his customer service voice. “Have a good one.”
“You too, thanks Dew.” Aether smiles as he scoops up his drink- god, his hands are huge. Dew waits until the man is out the door before slamming the side of his fist against the countertop in anger. Tears prickle at his eyes- why does everything have to be so hard ? Why can’t he just focus on work and making music and functioning as an adult without his feelings getting in the way?
He wants to scream and curl up in a ball under the register counter and cry. It reminds him of the time he’d accidentally dropped a bottle of some mechanical fluid while poking around his father’s tool shed. The aged plastic had cracked and begun leaking dark and sticky fluid onto his favorite shoes. He’d tried to fix it, put duct tape over the crack and scrubbed the cement floor clean, but his shoes were ruined. He had begged his parents for them, red and yellow with velcro closures and the number 95 emblazoned across the side. Cars was his favorite movie for most of his childhood. He had crawled under the workbench and cried until his father found him and scolded him for snooping.
That same cornered, hopeless feeling blooms in his chest now. He wants to go home- at least now he has a home. That scared little girl never had a “home” to go to. All she could do was hunker down and weather the punches.
Dew thinks he would rather relive his entire teenage experience than have his own mind turn against him like this. He’s scared and tired and he doesn’t know what to do. So he does the easiest thing he can think of- shuts down his brain and takes orders. During quieter moments, he cleans the machines. He has to keep his hands busy. He makes a to-do list in his brain:
Take a nap once I get home
Re-string guitar
Shower- NO JERKING OFF.
Check on that tupperware of mold in the fridge, note new colors. Report back to Rain.
Some time passes. He takes orders, warms baked goods, gives customers hollow smiles, and doesn’t. think. This works until his smoke break. Dew sparks up a cigarette and uses the taste of smoke to ground himself.
Nurse Aether would have a fit if he caught me smoking. Dew thinks to himself with a dry chuckle. The hoodie he’d brought with him isn’t warm enough to keep him comfortable so he cuts his smoke break short and heads inside. He stops at the cramped employee bathroom to piss.
Ohhhhh. That’s why I’ve been feeling like shit.
Luckily the box of menstrual products under the sink is fully stocked. Dew digs out a tampon, grinding his teeth at the gaudy pink wrapper. It doesn’t usually bother him but right now it feels like a kick in the ribs while he’s already down.
You go girl! The wrapper taunts him. Dew throws it back into the box and pulls out another one. #Girlboss! It reads.
“Okay, well, fuck you too.” Dew grumbles. He pulls out another one- Breathe and center yourself. That wouldn’t be too bad, if not for the Venus symbol emblazoned next to the words. He tosses that one back too and groans.
God, he wants to go home. That way he can put on his period boxers and not worry about shoving chemical-filled cotton up his pussy. A pad would move around too much in his boxers so he’s forced to resort to the alternative.
Dew gives the tampons one last try. They’re merciful this time, giving him a yellow wrapper and the words dream big.
One haphazard insertion (cold fingers are not the most dexterous with smooth plastic) later, he’s feeling slightly more put together. At least his pants are black today.
His reflection looks back at him in the mirror- he swears the hollows of his throat and cheekbones seem sharper than usual. He looks like a skeleton. He feels sweaty, even though his fingers are still numb from the cold. His tongue and throat are tender from that shot of near-boiling espresso. The taste of smoke makes him almost nauseous.
Dew swallows and looks at his watch. He has two hours left on his shift. His body tells him to go home but his stubbornness wins out. Two hours is nothing.
The cramps hit after about 45 minutes. Luckily Dew’s on dish duty so he can hunch over the sink and grit his teeth and power through. He just wants to go home. Cirrus pulls him aside twenty minutes later. Dew expects her to ask him to stay for another hour or two- she’s got that slightly stressed look on her face.
“How long do you need me for?” Dew asks, trying not to look too disappointed. Cirrus shakes her head.
“I want you to go home. Frankly, you look like you’ve been through war.” She pats his shoulder. “You have PTO. Give yourself a few days to rest, alright?” Dew opens his mouth to protest but she squeezes his shoulder in a comforting yet slightly threatening way. “ Rest. ”
The care and concern in her eyes is the final straw. Dew crumbles into pieces, his carefully built shell around all his emotions shattering. A sob works its way out of his throat and his knees buckle. Cirrus catches him and lets him lay his head on her shoulder.
God, he feels pathetic. He hasn’t cried in six years- not since the night he’d slipped out the back door of his parents house with his guitar, a backpack, and a greyhound bus ticket. He’d promised himself he’d be strong. Turns out it only took a sleepless night and a spiral over a fleeting crush to break him.
“It’s okay, buddy.” Cirrus murmurs to him. “Let it out. No judgement.”
“I wanna go home…” Dew whimpers into her shoulder. He’s going to get fired for this, but right now he doesn’t care.
“You can go. Take all the time you need.” Cirrus replies. “I won’t tell anyone about this.”
Dew nods. He doesn’t trust that she’ll keep his moment of weakness a secret but he appreciates the facade of security. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
“You’ll come back as soon as you feel better .” Cirrus corrects him, pulling back and holding him at arm’s length. “Don’t force yourself.”
“Okay.” Dew swallows. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” Cirrus shrugs. “Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself.” She holds out her pinky.
Dew looks at the offered finger and links his own pinkie around hers. It makes him smile a bit, he has to admit. “Deal.”
The walk home is bitterly cold and his fingers are stiff as he unlocks his door. He groans as the heat of the apartment envelops him. Thank fuck the heating system decided to work today.
Dew kicks off his boots and makes a beeline for his bedroom. He collapses into bed and burrows under the covers fully clothed. He’s fully expecting to close his eyes and drift off easily, but… sleep doesn’t take him.
Fuck. He knew he shouldn’t have overdone the caffeine today. His heart and brain are racing. He rolls onto his stomach and screams into the pillow.
The scream turns into a sob and now he’s crying again. God FUCKING damnit. He doesn’t even fight it this time. There’s no one home to witness his weakness. So Dew sobs and screams into his pillow and curls into a tear-stained ball.
He manages to cry himself to sleep for a merciful few hours. The dreams he manages to remember consist of dark rainy highways, dingy bus lighting, and faceless strangers.
Dew drifts awake sometime later to the sound of Rain’s footsteps. For a guy built like uncooked spaghetti, he can really stomp.
Through the gaps in his curtains he can see that it’s dark. Granted, it’s November so that could mean it’s anytime between 5 PM and 8 AM.
He looks around blearily for his phone and discovers it in the pocket of his jeans. He’s shivering and absolutely soaked in sweat. Gross.
It’s 6 PM. Five and a half hours of sleep are better than nothing. Dew drags himself out of bed with a pained groan and pushes his hair out of his face. Shower, then eat.
So he does just that- peels his clothes off in front of the bathroom mirror, turns the water temperature up as hot as he can stand, and stands in the shower for what feels like hours until the stickiness melts off his skin. He tastes salt- he’s crying again.
“ Why?” Dew whimpers to himself, sinking to his knees. His chest aches deeply as he takes desperate gulps of air. Oh no. Please no.
His heart is pounding and his hands are shaking.
He kneels in the shower, one hand clasped over his mouth to muffle his sobs. On the shower floor is a necklace, the delicate gold chain snapped. The heart locket pendant is open, the photos inside unrecognizable from water damage.
Why was this happening now? Today of all days?
Dew wants to scream and punch the wall. He wants to rip that fucker apart with his teeth. He picks up the locket and rips the two halves apart.
He’d TRUSTED him. He’d laid on the roof and smoked weed with him, telling each other the things they each kept hidden. He’d spent countless steamy nights in the back of his car. Dew’s guitar was a birthday present from him, secretly bought with his parents’ credit card.
Then he’d turned around and told the whole school EVERYTHING. He’d gone from sharing knowing glances and stealing kisses in the school bathroom to spreading Dew’s secrets to the entire school- and worse- the church.
Dew’s jaw aches from how hard he’s clenching it. Old anger wells up in his tear ducts. He was why Dew had sworn off romance. He couldn’t be betrayed like that again. It would destroy him.
The shower starts to cool down, snapping Dew out of his misery for the moment. He gets out and dries off. He doesn’t care that he gets blood all over his towel or his hair drips all over the floor. Keep moving. Don’t let your past catch up.
So he dries his body and hair, goes through the ordeal of dealing with his tampon, and finally slips his period boxers on. He washes his face, examines the faint wisps of a mustache on his upper lip and sighs. Dysphoria is a bitch.
Dew wanders to the kitchen, still feeling hollow with exhaustion and disorientation. It doesn’t help that he’s hungry too so he digs a mini pizza out of the freezer and pops it in the microwave.
It spins. And spins. Around and around. Like swirls of blood going down the shower drain or lazy curls of smoke. Dew suddenly doesn’t feel hungry. He leaves his pizza in the microwave and curls up on the couch. The microwave beeps at him and he flips it the bird.
The crumpled paper buried in his dresser drawer crosses his mind. He could write. It seemed to help a few days ago.
Dew doesn’t feel like getting up so he snags a pen off the coffee table with his foot and rolls up his sleeve to use his arm as a makeshift journal page. There’s not much space so he tries to write down one-word descriptors. Angry. Tired. Frustrated. Violent. Betrayal. A
Dew stops before he can write the name. He licks his thumb and smears the ink away. Him. Horrible ex.
Scared. Dew pauses. He is scared. Scared of being rejected, scared of peeling away the layers of armor around his heart and exposing his weak spot. His Achilles heel.
Achilles was hella gay, wasn’t he? Yeah. For that other guy. Patroclus. Dew had learned about the story in English class. His teacher had glossed over their relationship as “brotherly comradery” but Dew’s little closeted brain had known better. He found a retelling of the story online and secretly downloaded the PDF to his phone.
The ending had made him sob for hours. It was so beautifully tragic. At the time, he’d hoped that maybe his story would be different. That his mother would accept him before it was too late, before he was buried.
That was a naive fucking fantasy. His mother had clung so hard to her vision of a perfect blonde-haired blue-eyed Catholic daughter that her claws left permanent scars.
Dew’s hand- the one holding the pen- drifts to the back of his head. Speaking of scars…
His vision tunnels and his breath hitches. Here he goes again.
The scent of butternut squash. Dew’s mother had come to the dinner with a stack of Dew’s journals- neatly tabbed and annotated- and read out every entry detailing his process of questioning his faith. Thank fuck he hadn’t written down any of his gender crisis.
He’d been forced to sit there and swallow back tears as his parents told him he was weak, he was stupid, he was letting the devil in.
Dew had mustered up enough courage to snap back. He’d stood up and gone to storm out of the kitchen.
His mother cornered him. He tried to duck and slip past her.
Pain exploded across his face as the back of her hand connected with his cheek. He reeled and lost his balance.
A flash of pain, so bright he could see it. Like a thousand suns.
Stars. Pain. It hurt so much. He tasted pennies. The kitchen ceiling swam above him as his parents yelled at each other. It felt like a dream. His stomach churned with nausea.
He barely managed to muster the strength to turn his head before his dinner came up all over the floor. Something warm and wet was soaking into the back of his sweater. He wanted to wake up from this nightmare.
His memory was choppy from that moment. Trees speeding by outside a car window, sterile lights of a hospital, doctors shining lights in his face. A machine where he had to lie really still as it beeped and rotated around his head.
“Dew?”
Finally he was carried back into the house and laid on the couch. His parents stood over him and told him in concerned voices that this had happened because he had let the devil into his heart. Dew was too dazed and tired to argue so he nodded his head and apologized.
“Dew? Dude, you okay?”
His rosary was placed in his hands and he was ordered to pray. He did, begging forgiveness from a god that never answered until he was allowed to sl-
“Dewdrop!”
Dew’s eyes snap open. There’s a hand on his shoulder- he flinches away from it.
“Sorry- dude, you okay?” Rain is crouched next to the couch, big blue eyes wide and worried.
Dew is too tired to pretend. He shakes his head and bursts into tears again.
“Woah, woah. Can I sit with you?” Rain asks softly. Dew nods.
Over the next few hours, Dew splits himself open. It hurts, but fuck it feels good to release everything. Rain wouldn’t tell anyone anyway. He starts by telling him about Aether. His stupid gorgeous puppy crush. Then his fear of relationships, then his shitbag ex, then the flashback Rain had interrupted. He probably wasn’t coherent for a lot of it but his friend seemed to understand.
“…That’s fucked up.” Rain tells him after a moment of silence. “I’m… so sorry.”
“Not your fault.” Dew sniffles, muffled by the blanket his face is buried in. “Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime.” Dew feels Rain shift awkwardly on the couch. “Can I get you something?”
“Made a microwave pizza. Can you reheat it for me?” Dew asks. Rain nods and gets up.
“And… stay with me?” Dew adds sheepishly. “I can’t be alone right now. I’ll smoke myself to death or-“ he stops and swallows. “Something worse.”
“Got it.” Rain shoots him a smile. “Want a soda?”
“ Please. Did you get another case?”
“Yep. Splurged a bit and got a case of cherry coke too.” Rain opens the fridge and grabs two cans.
“Fancy.” Dew manages to smile- a genuine one. It’s shaky but it’s real. He takes the plate of pizza and the can of off-brand Dr. Pepper with a grateful nod.
“I had some extra change.” Rain shrugs, popping open his can. There’s an expression on his face that makes Dew raise his eyebrow.
“Who’d you suck off?”
“Oh, shut up.” Rain elbows him. “Just a quick coding commission. Someone wanted an in-browser game to put on their website.”
“Alriiiight.” Dew still has suspicions, but he leaves it alone. Not his business anyway.
The two of them stay there, laughing and talking until well past midnight. Dew feels like a weight has been lifted from his chest. By the time he heads off to bed, he feels vastly better. He changes into pajamas and crawls under the blankets.
Maybe Aether won’t be as bad as the last guy, he thinks before sleep takes him.
Kudos and comments on ao3 are greatly appreciated!
#tenth drink free#dewther#nameless ghouls#the band ghost#dewdrop ghoul#aether ghoul#trans ghouls#trans dewdrop#trans aether
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once again thinking about camboy!rain who lets little virgin phantom fuck him in front of the camera. rolls his eyes & huffs because tommy isn't doing it right. gets people to comment, tell the poor boy how to do it so rain can get fucked properly, so tommy can actually stand a chance at making him cum
camboy!rain who gets aurora to ride him, tells her how wet and warm her cunt is, how pretty she looks on him and how perfect her tits look every time she bounces and stuffs her pretty little pussy full of him. focuses the camera at her cunt when she leans back and squirts, gushing over rains tummy and chest
camboy!rain who bullies mountain onto his knees in front of the camera and sits on his face, gets mounts tongue against his hole and balls while he plays with his nipple piercings and jerks himself off, moaning filth and grinding back & forth over the earth ghouls face, using him like a toy for the viewers
camboy!rain who sits pretty on cumulus' lap, lets her be all sweet and, hi honey, how’re you today? to people in the chat while she's jerking rain off painfully slow, mumbling against his ear to be louder if he wants her to even think about letting him cum, her fingers moving down to circle teasingly at his rim
camboy!rain who moans and whimpers like a pornstar when aether gets rough with him, fucks him into the mattress and tells him how fucking slutty he is, how many thousands of people are watching him getting his hole abused by someone twice his size, how tiny he looks and how his tummy swells a little when aether pumps yet another round of cum into him
𖤐 ghouls masterlist
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