#dew and his pretty cocklet being lapped up by aeth while swiss fucks aeths ass

[ghostisun]

cw: kind of force fem; slight mommy kink; suggestive // short and incoherent rambling (again) :D

swiss calls aether and tells him that he's got him a gift.

"i wrapped her all up for you," he croons and the words fall from his lips in a way that was just teasing and degrading enough that aether stops whatever he's doing because he realizes swiss' call wasn't intended for aether.

no.

it was intended for whoever it was on the other line, surely trapped between swiss' legs, and made to listen as swiss reduced her into nothing but a prize for aether.

aether's breaths come out in rasps, his pants straining at his quickly-fattening chub. he balls his hand into a fist, nails biting at his palm, and it was enough to draw him back, voice trickling into the base of his throat.

"is that so?" aether replies, words lilting, his voice sticking onto his tongue. "will she wait f'me?"

“of course,” swiss hums, faux dismissive. "she's real good at it." there was a shuffling on the other side, a familiar voice hissing something weak.

oh.

"oh," aether repeats out loud, his mind catching up to his libido.

that's—

"yeah," swiss trills. "ain't dew such a good girl?"

aether doesn't remember replying. hell, he doesn't even remember wrapping things up and running back to his room because he knows this drill already. he knows that swiss tugged dew into aeth's room; he knows that he used the way dew always found comfort in aether's den as a leverage to force dew to comply.

to be good.

to be obedient.

because that's one thing they learned together—how dew's fire always seemed to cool and waft into something so achingly soft at the mere drop of aether's name. aeth, himself, doesn't even know why little dew found too big of a comfort from aether but it was something he cherished, holding it dear in the pockets of his ribs.

he slams his door open, the wood creaking against the stone. two bodies turn to him.

his eyes rove over dew, cataloguing the pretty slip of a dress that he fills up well—it must have been borrowed from aurora, then—and the sheer stockings that are wrapped around his legs. he's on the floor, his head tipped onto swiss' thigh, using it as a pillow. he looks soft, beautiful, catastrophically so.

aether turns to the other ghoul, his chest heaving as his desire bloats, expanding in the pit of his stomach. swiss grins, and it is too wide and full of teeth, and mean.

"look, mommy," swiss sings. "aether's home."

he leans forward and brushes dew's golden strands away from his face. "it seems like we got him all riled up, huh?"

aether—he doesn't know why he's still standing by his door like a fucking fool but there he is—turns to dew, waiting for the fire. for the vitriol of his anger.

but dew doesn't do that. no. instead, he blushes, cheeks turning bright and warm as he flits his pretty eyes to aether, shy. beckoning.

aether watches as dew licks his lips, his little forked tongue a tease on its own, before he murmurs, "kiss mommy, aeth?"

“please,” he hears his own voice ring. it sounds desperate, all choked-up. “please, mommy.”

swiss giggles at the scene they make, his eyes glinting with danger. now, turned onto aether too.

oh, he realizes. i’m the prize, with dew as the bait.