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mac-and-thefox · 16 hours

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Feel My Shadow Dissolving

3400-ish words of very sappy Mountain and Rain being reunited after a little self imposed exile.

Thank you @ghoultrifle and @ghuleh-recs for the encouragement and thank you to the two anons who also asked/encouraged, and well anyone else who enabled me.

CW: T4T Mountrain, cock, dick, cunt used for both of them. Some gill play, Rain has a tentacle, also PISS, squirting, oral sex. And a little bit of foot stuff but it is pretty mild and doesn’t go on for long. Some hint at non-con regarding the piss but Mountain wants it. Real bad. Below the cut and shortly on ao3.

Busying himself in the greenhouse, he made it sound like a chore, but in fact he reveled in it. Getting all of the saplings and blooms he’d been nurturing all winter long ready to be planted on the grounds. He’d maybe be a little bit embarrassed if anyone heard him whispering and cooing to them. Well, maybe Ivy and Pebble would understand.

He ponders that thought. They’re all a bit solitary when it comes to this, something intimate, private. He’s ripped from his thoughts and the tray of black altar saplings nearly go with them, when an aquamarine speckled hand smacks the glass in front of his face, sending small beads of condensation outward.

Rain. Both in the sky and apparently outside of the greenhouse. He sees a bright flash of color, and hears the unmistakable boom of Swiss’s laughter. Almost as loud as the thunder rolling in. Which is why he hadn’t heard their approach. Not until it smacked him in the face, almost.

There’s a shrill shriek next, belonging to a certain hybrid, now tossing sparks of revenge in Swiss’s face.

Mountain watches Rain lean his forehead against the cool glass, eyes closed, panting, smiling.

The splatters hitting the roof of the greenhouse get louder, and more frequent. He hears them shouting but he can’t make it out. He just sees the sunset glow of Swiss’s horns and the autumnal luminance of Dew’s tail as they make a run for it.

Rain however, has flipped over, leaning against the window to watch the storm descend upon them.

Mountain reaches out and traces the long line of his shoulder, where shimmering cerulean lights up the droplets of water rattling in the wind, which really is picking up now. He should probably go inside.

Mountain has no such concerns, he has a make-shift camp inside the greenhouse now, no one questions the isolation, nor the various sundries that disappear every few days from the pantry and the supply closets.

Rain’s clap against the window knocked him out of his thoughts, but it also reminded him of his self-imposed isolation. And how he was maybe ready for it to be over.

But he’s sure Rain knew that. That’s why he’s here. His invitation being the still-damp flowers Mountain left on his pillow. Red chrysanthemums, a proposition, an invitation, and a declaration.

Never mind he had to look up their meaning on the internet. He still knew they meant something, they always do when they come from Mountain.

Rain hears the door of the greenhouse swing open with a squeal that demands oil, his cheeks tug his lips into a smile so large that it hurts a little. Knowing that he was the one Mountain chose.

Rain steps through the door and humidity wraps around his damp skin like a blanket. The scent almost makes him dizzy. Of damp earth, of flower petals, of the storm just outside the door, of sap, and bark and pine.

Of Mountain. All of it sinking into his flesh and he finds himself rubbing at his wet skin, as if he could push it all in further.

Rain had expected Mountain to look worn, sleep deprived and physically exhausted. Instead, he finds there’s a spark in those hazel eyes that rivals a fire ghoul. In fact, he looks so - vibrant.

The rich olive in the hollows of his cheekbones and eyelids, the rich amber flush spreading across the bridge of his nose and the high planes of his face, making all of his freckles pop like a constellation against the night sky.

One long, sinewed arm reaching out, fingers searching for something to wrap themselves around. Eyes raking over his own body, the wet clothes clinging to his skin, the glossy waves and ringlets of dark hair. One could say it was black but that doesn’t account for the depth and shifting hues of cobalt and navy, or of lilac and violet, when the light hits it just right.

Mountain eyes the map of gleaming asymmetrical marks that disappear beneath the neck of his t-shirt. There seems to be no real pattern, yet it all looks unified, their placement as imprecise as they are perfect.

And his lips twitch at the thought of tasting each and every one, they all trail inward, to his core. A treasure map as it were, that couldn’t have been an accident.

Rain drags himself out of his stupor to connect with the hand hanging in the air. For how long, he’s not sure. It feels like they’re moving in slow motion now. A distinct departure from moments ago, when he was racing through the wet clover, dodging Dew and Swiss.

Though they’d never catch him. They had a marked disadvantage anyway. His feet clinging to the available friction with ease, whilst Dew and Swiss slipped and fell, more than once.

Rain’s eyes have finally adjusted to the dim light. Tinted blue, and sparse. Enough so that Mountain can work without disturbing the natural rhythm of light and dark that the plants are used to.

It turns some of the ginger highlights in Mountain’s floppy auburn curls a shade of burnt sienna. “Pretty”, is all Rain has the wherewithal to say. It seems insufficient, but he can’t think of anything that really would be. It’s been weeks. How do you pour weeks worth of longing into a sentence or two?

”Gorgeous”, Mountain counters, and Rain wishes he said that instead. Though its still not quite adequate. They both reach an understanding about this rather quickly.

Rain lets himself be pulled, embraced, pressed up against the nearest work table. He expects something frenzied and impatient. And he would allow it, let Mountain grab a fist full of hair, kick his legs apart, let the edge of the table bruise the backs of his thighs. Something to remind him when he sits down in the coming weeks to daydream about it.

Instead, it’s soft and slow. The same almost suspended animation that’s been spelled on them since he entered the greenhouse. Mountain’s dirt streaked fingers curling around his jaw, long nose dragging up the length of his neck.

Leaning into him, pressing against him until there isn’t an inch of space to move, or breath except to move and breath together. Only a counter rhythm leaves enough space for their lungs to expand.

Dissolving into one another, rather than simply colliding.

Mountain drinks up the rainwater that runs from his sopping wet hair down the side of his neck, pooling in the ridge of gills and the hollow beneath his throat.

Rain makes a noise that sounds a bit like impatience, a lot like desperation. Mountain wraps his hands around the backs of his thighs and sets him on the work table, so effortlessly he barely registers that he’s been moved.

”What do you need?”

Rain doesn’t have to think long on the answer, but it’s not specific enough to provide any real direction. “You. I need you.”

”I’m here. I promise.” Mountain swallows the hoarseness in his throat, blinks back the tears that threaten to run streaks through the dirt on his cheeks.

Rain doesn’t have to, they’re camouflaged by the water still dripping from his hair and down his face. But Mountain still hears the way his breath catches in his throat when he tries to speak, the effort it takes just to get two simple words out.

”Kiss me.”

Despite the separation, it feels like the most natural thing, the way their heads tilt just so to accommodate, the easy exchange, the gentle swipe of Mountain’s tongue along the roof of his mouth, the way Rain pauses to pull on his lower lip.

Rain lifts his legs to wrap around his hip, it’s an awkward struggle with the way that they’ve plastered themselves to each other.

He settles for one leg on a hip, the other folded against his chest, pressed between Mountain’s legs. Mountain breaks the kiss to look, now that he can feel it, the top of Rain’s narrow foot pressed against his cunt. His toe teasing along the slit in a way that can’t be an accident.

Rain’s tail hooks on the waist of his worn work pants, dragging them past his hips, the button and fly already pried open and now working the stained t-shirt over his head. They both spare a few seconds to laugh when one of the holes catches on his antlers and gets stuck.

But it doesn’t take long for Mountain to feel impatient, to grab and pull. To hear the tearing of fabric as he frees himself.

Rain stares wide-eyed for half a second, thinking that was hot, but the words don’t come out, he’s dragging Mountain back again. The fervent kisses he expected earlier have arrived. He feels a bit like he’s sinking, or floating. Either way, he doesn’t feel the solid wood beneath him. His tail coils around Mountain’s waist. To ground himself, to pull Mountain closer.

Without the thick twill in the way, he presses the top of his foot back up into Mountain’s cunt, warm and slick, a balm to the chill he’s starting to feel. But so much more than that. Mountain’s hips shift imperceptively and he can feel how much he’s fattened up, how hard he is. He maneuvers to drag the buttery soft webbing across Mountain’s cock.

Mountain jolts, coiling his own tail around his leg. So sensitive, like he’s been touched too much, or not at all. He realizes he can’t remember the last time he came, by his own hand or someone else’s.

It doesn’t take long, he doesn’t mean to chase it, but hands on his hips encourage him to grind, to take what he wants. He feels a bit embarrassed, the way he drools slick, the sound it makes when it splatters on the tiled floor.

A litany of soft sounds, maybe curses, maybe prayers, pour into Rain’s mouth. Not willing to break the kiss even as his shaking thighs threaten to upend him. But Rain keeps him upright, with his tail, his arms.

And his own desire to remain sealed to Rain’s lips helps to keep him standing as he cums.

If he was embarrassed by how wet he was, he wants to bury his face in Rain’s shoulder when he shifts his foot back, “Look Mountain, got me all wet. Maybe you’re part water ghoul?”

Mountain doesn’t want to look, but Rain leans back, plants two fingers under his chin, and forces him to. Forces him to look at the string of slick connecting his cock to the top of Rain’s foot. To the wetness gathered in the webbing, the sound it makes when Rain flexes his foot and rubs his toes together has him squeezing his thighs shut.

His tail is wrapped so tight around his leg that he’s going to have a snake shaped bruise.

”I’m not making fun of you, sapling. That was hot. Everything you do is hot. You can do it again. I have two feet, and 0 intention of leaving this greenhouse until I’ve made you cum on my feet, my hands, my mouth, and my dick.

Mountain is trying to listen to him but he feels distracted now. By fullness that wasn’t there before, or maybe it was but now it’s more persistent. He squeezes his legs together harder, and starts to panic just a little bit.

“What’s wrong, sapling?”

Mountain just whines, shuffles back and forth a little. Rain notes the way his tail chokes the blood from the lower half of his leg.

“I’ll be right back.” Mountain grimaces. He can’t believe this has to happen NOW, when he can smell the slick pooling in Rain’s shorts, when he aches to touch and be touched until it hurts.

Rain’s tail doesn’t loosen, in fact, it coils tighter, the spade slides between his hips and presses, hard.

”Oh no.” Once again, falling on pretense, because Mountain doesn’t want to admit it. Doesn’t want to admit that he wants Rain to make him, wants to soak his pretty feet, and make a big mess all over the cracked tiles. The thought of the stream hitting the ground, splashing up on his legs, it makes his dick throb. It makes his bladder throb harder.

He expects more taunting, instead, Rain wordlessly guides him forward, forces his legs apart, and swallows his moans as he kisses him. As he presses, encourages, lets out a few moans of his own.

He feels his skin prickle with heat despite the cool damp air, and despite that heat, Mountain shivers. He can’t hold it. That first treacherous stream that runs down his thigh has Rain gripping him harder, one hand fisting his hair, the other reaching down to toy with his cock again.

”Oh no.” He repeats.

But it’s too late. He surrenders, and feels the heat streaming down his legs, feels Rain drag his fingers through it, feels him force his legs apart even further so he can feel it running up his thigh, soaking into his shorts, running down his calf, and his foot, which Mountain can see dangling between them.

Red hot shame mixes with arousal and he doesn’t know whether he should run, or cry, or drag his wet cunt over Rain’s knee while he makes a mess of both of them,

Rain chooses for him, lets him ride it out with his thigh pressed up to his cunt, until he feels something thicker running down the sides of his legs. Mountain forgets about his humiliation as he grinds down on Rain’s thigh. It shouldn’t be this good. But he finds himself hanging off of Rain’s slender frame as he rides out his second orgasm in what feels like mere minutes.

He only allows himself a moment to catch his breath, before he’s pushing himself upright, working to peel Rain’s sopping wet clothes from his body. No more a struggle than getting his own caught in his antlers. They work to wrestle them off, he tosses them behind his back and they land with a splat. Something to deal with later.

Despite the fact that the use of his legs has been rendered null and void, he has to stumble back a bit, to take it all in. To see all of the speckles and stripes glowing dimly in the low light.

To watch Rain swipe his fingers through the mess on his leg and suck it from his fingers. To watch him gather more of that mess and smear it across his sheathed cock, jutting out from his own slick folds.

There’s a small damp stain in the wood beneath him as he shifts his hips and leans back, puts himself on display, even though he turns his head to the side and his expression spells out something like shyness.

Mountain stares at the thatch of glossy curls between his legs and imagines how he’ll taste, the sweat and the slick, his own piss. Another white hot flare of shame heats his skin.

But he can’t dwell on it, not with Rain laid out like that, just for him.

He walks carefully forward, his legs still feel like a newborn deer, he doesn’t want to end the evening early by knocking his teeth out on the table. He bends for one more lingering kiss before moving downward.

He can’t resist dipping into Rain’s gills on his descent, to feel them open and constrict around his tongue like they’re trying to draw him inward.

His calloused fingers outline the ones that fall in between his ribs, he wants to linger there but the smell of ocean salt and something sweeter, like nectarine lures him downward.

He can’t help himself, pressing his face to the dark mound of hair just above his cock, immersing himself in the scent and the taste of him. Why did he do this? Why did he wait so long? But there’s no sense lingering on regret when Rain is right here, at his fingertips, in front of his face, invading all of his senses.

He leans back for just a second, to appreciate reaching the end of that map, where all of the markings lead. To that translucent flesh, where he’s already pushing to escape. He can see the suckers flex against the membrane, as impatient as he is.

He drags the high ridge of his nose down, nudging at the sheathed tentacle with the tip of his nose before moving lower. A few cursory kitten licks, just to taste him, just to make him whine.

And then he dips his tongue in, as far as he can reach, always surprised by how warm Rain is here, when he feels so cool everywhere else. Rain’s legs wrap around his shoulder, his heels dig into his back, and he feels hands wrap around the base of his horns.

All the encouragement he needs to fuck him properly. He adds one finger, and curls it just so, the world goes dark and quiet as Rain’s thighs squeeze his head. He pets a little softer, and he is released.

He adds another finger, but this time he uses his free hand and his tail to keep Rain’s legs where they belong, spread.

By the time he adds a third, slick is running down his forearm, joining the puddle he left on the ground. He moves to suck gently at Rain’s cock, now straining to break free. One particularly deep thrust that has him all but fisting Rain open and it does.

And as usual, it seems to have a mind of its own, shoving past Mountain’s teeth and down his throat with little ceremony.

He coughs a little, but he doesn’t fight it.

”Oh - fuck - m’sorry - you know - she just does - oh fuck.”

Mountain nods as much as he’s able with his head trapped in the vice-like press of Rain’s legs. He adjusts to the strange sensation that what he’s sucking on has no static shape and then continues to do just that.

His fingers counter the rhythm of his mouth, sometimes at double speed, and then he alternates. Something clearly only a drummer could do.

”Oh fuck, Mount - I’m gonna - fuck -“ those are the last coherent words as Rain comes apart around his fingers and in his mouth. Mountain curls them just so and those rough tips hit something deep and sensitive.

When Rain cums Mountain feels a little less embarrassed about the mess he made. Both from his cunt, soaking the table and his arm. From his tentable, something viscous and sweet that he can’t get enough of.

Mountain is vaguely aware of Rain pulling on two fistfuls of his hair as he curls inward and forces Mountain’s lips flush with the dark thatch of hair above his cock.

It takes a minute for him to let go, riding out what feel like endless waves, like an electric current pulses through his veins with every erratic beat of his heart.

When Rain finally releases him, he can look back up at the light he’s throwing off, from the markings, his tentacle, the spade of his tail. Might be prettier than those Swedish northern lights. No, it definitely is.

Barely there kisses where his leg meets his body, down his thighs, and back up again, through the dark trail of hair below his navel and across the twin silvery horizontal scars on his chest, until they’re face to face again.

As he meets Mountain’s eyes and blinks his own a few times, he feels like maybe he’s coming back to Earth finally.

Mountain further eases him back to reality by kissing him again, and it feels so easy. Like a conversation. His lips say I love you, his tongue says I want you. Rain pulls on his lower lip again, it says I missed you, he sucks harder and says don’t stay away for so long next time.

Wordlessly, Mountain collects Rain’s limp frame from the table, and lays him down on the layers of camping foam and sleeping bags that have become his bed over the last few weeks.

Rain can’t help but roll around in it, bring Mountain’s pillow to his face and inhale greedily.

”I’m right here.” Mountain laughs.

”I know.” Rain smiles. “I was just trying to remember what it felt like to miss you so much. So we can do that again.”

#cw tentacles #cw piss #cw foot fetish

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mac-and-thefox · 17 hours

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HEY MAC WHAT HEADCANONS, SHIPS, OR WHATEVER HAVE BEEN ON YOUR MIND RECENTLY? 🩷🎤

Hi P1nk!!

Okay, let's see...

Dew misses playing bass sometimes. He loves his guitar and he loves the energy that comes with being Lead, but sometimes he misses the ability to lock into the drumbeat and groove. He misses that deep rumble that would roll through his body when playing that open D and C.

In the confusion that came following the end of Terzo's papacy and Copia's ascension to power, Dew was able to hold onto one of his old basses when his gear was taken away from him and replaced. He managed to squirrel it away and hide it in his closet, where it stays carefully wrapped in a moving blanket, along with an older practice bass amp that his former bass tech was kind enough to steal for him during all of the transition chaos.

At night, when he's really missing what used to be, when he's missing his Water, he pulls the bass out from the back of the closet. He dusts off the old black Fender Precision, carefully cleaning and polishing the fretboard. He always plays with headphones on, he doesn't want the others to hear him. Swiss, Rain, the girls...they don't know. Dew isn't ready to share this part of him with them yet, not ready to be this vulnerable and raw. He doesn't want to admit to everyone, especially Rain, that he misses his Water, that he misses his previous gentle nature instead of the wildfire that makes the crowds go crazy every night on tour.

Mountain and Aether are the only ones that know, the only ones that ever knew him when he was sweet and kind, instead of loud and brash and bold....

On the first anniversary of his transition to Fire, Dew broke down, grieving over what he had lost and what he would never have again, his body remembering the events of the year prior. Mountain found him and gently held him as Dew poured out his heart and tearfully confessed his secret about the bass in his closet. Mountain listened patiently, gave Dew a kiss on the forehead and went to find Aether, explaining the situation. He then found Dew and told him to come to the soundproof recording booth in the practice studio.

When Dew arrived he found Mountain and Aether waiting for him with their instruments in hand and the black P bass waiting for him with new strings, ready to play. For a little while, Mountain and Aether were able give Dew the gift of playing together like they had done before, before everything changed. Dew was able to reconnect with his Water, even if it was just through the music.

#forgot about this

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mac-and-thefox · 19 hours

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hey so like

hi, you. yeah im talking to you. You like my stuff from time to time and reblog once and a while, and I always recognize you in my notes. we’ve never talked, maybe you dont like to say much or you’re nervous or something. it’s okay, whatever it is.

I see you. you mean a lot to me. sometimes when I’m having a hard day, I’ll notice your name once again in my notifs and it makes me smile. im not kidding.

I don’t care if you’re a “ghost” follower or you send me asks all the time. i see you and I love you so much, genuinely and truly. you are really important to me.

thank you. thank you for being there. <3

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mac-and-thefox · 21 hours

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Hey comet I really really love your writing and had a little request if you don’t mind please.

Would you ever write anything about Dew squirting or something along those lines? Like maybe because he used to be a water ghoul he still has that sort of….. liquid (?) don’t know how to phrase this anyways thank you and also sorry and also love your writing <3

Slick. Hyperspermia. Dewdrop. Please, never apologize for wet ghouls. We like our ghouls wet and sloppy in this house.

Of all of the things Dew retained from his water ghoul days—this is Aether’s favorite. Aether watches as Dew strokes himself in time with Aether’s thrusts. A spurt of precum rolls down the flushed head of Dew’s cock, over his bony fingers. Dew’s head tips back into pillow.

Aether pushes Dew’s knees further apart, deeper, spreads him open a little wider as he works into him. He’s so wet. Cock leaking copiously, slick pooling in the space where Aether’s thighs meet his. Aether looks down to watch the spot where he’s pistoning in and out of Dew and swears he can see him get wetter with each thrust.

Dew shudders. He has his own knuckles shoved into his mouth as he works himself over. He’s a mess, leaking all over himself, the sheets. There’s a string of pre connecting Dew’s belly to the head of his cock. Aether can’t take his eyes away. He watches the way Dew’s wrist twists over the head. Dew flexes his hips up into his own hand. The motion drags Aether’s cock against something that makes Dew keen around his knuckles.

It's a marvel. Aether doesn’t know where all of this liquid comes from. Neither of them can figure out why this is the thing he retained. But Aether doesn’t question it. Just thanks whatever dark power made it happen.

Aether knocks Dew’s hand away, wrapping his fingers around that slick length. Dew wipes his slick hand on his own chest before he throws his arm over his eyes. Aether can’t see much of his face anymore, blocked by the fist pressed into his mouth and the forearm over his eyes. But he can see the delicate flush blooming on his cheekbones.

He can feel every twitch of Dew’s body as he strokes him. Thumbing over the head to collect the pre before dropping down to rub against the sensitive spot under the head. Dew’s moans are muffled. He rocks his hips into Aether’s hand. Trying to figure out how to grind down and still fuck his cock into Aether’s fist at the same time.

Aether’s been missing on purpose. Dragging all of this out for as long as possible. He likes when Dew gets like this, sloppy, and boneless. Aether hooks Dew's knee over his arm, folding Dew over, pressing that knee up by one of Dew's flushed ears.

Dew rips his fist out of his mouth to plant his palm on Aether's chest. He pulls his other arm away from his eyes in lieu of putting his hand on the back Aether's neck, digging his fingers into the muscle there. He drags Aether closer--or tries to. Until their foreheads touch. Dew's mouth drops open when the new angle allowed Aether to reach deeper inside of him. Aether keeps his eyes on Dew's, watching the way his pupils get impossibly wider as Aether starts to drag the head of his cock over Dew's prostate with every pinpointed thrust.

"Oh--Aeth, oh no. Please--" Dew whispers into the space between them breath harsh.

"C'mon Dew, come on. I wanna see how wet you can get for me." Dew chokes, his eyes snap closed. Aether tightens his grip and Dew keens. Dew's hips move on their own accord, chasing the stimulation they need as Aether focuses on driving him up and over the edge.

"I'm gonna--oh fuck--cum. I'm gonna fucking cum."

"Yeah. Do it. Paint my fingers. Squirt all over my cock," Aether pants into the space.

A second later, Dew does just that. Back bowing off the bed, eyes and mouth rocketing open as all of the breath leaves him. He spills hot all over Aether's fingers, his chest. It's so much, it's always so much.

There's a rush of liquid over Aether's cock, spilling from the space between them, blood hot, onto Aether's thighs and the bed. Aether can't hold on any longer. The tight clench of Dew's body paired with the scalding rush of slick over his balls sending him spiraling into his own orgasm. He hilts himself as deep as he can. Dew's fingers dig painfully into his chest as Aether pulses and empties himself inside of him. Aether brings his messy hand up to Dew's cheek. He smears cum across Dew's perpetually pink skin, and over his trembling lips. "You always make such a mess, Firefly." Dew doesn't dignify him with a response. Instead, his tongue darts out to lick at the mess smeared over his lips. He opens his mouth as an invitation for Aether's fingers. And who is Aether to deny him?

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mac-and-thefox · 21 hours

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Would you ever write more french speaking Rain? :)

Oh French Rain is something special and I think about him often (along with Spanish Swiss)

Hope you enjoy, love🖤

Rulti under the cut

(remember I only speak English and I do my best with translations. Kind and gentle corrections are always welcome and appreciated)

"Tell me how good it feels." Swiss growls in his ear, fingers twisting deep inside of him, opening him slowly.

"Fuck...s'good, so good Spark."

"No...tell me...do it...in-" He bites his lip, cheeks warm. He doesn't know why this of all things makes his heart flutter with nerves. He's asked for things so deeply depraved but this?

Rain cocks his head against the pillows, a sly little smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"Tu veux l'entendre en français?"

"Shit..." It's just a whisper, a breathed out revelation. "Keep talking..."

"Tu te sens incroyable." He cups Swiss face in his hands. "Parfait."

"Need to be in you...tell me you're ready-Rain fuck-"

He nods. "Fais-le."

He watches Swiss hands shake when he slicks himself up, the way his breathing is unsteady and just a little too sharp. He slides his long fingers up his strong chest.

"You really like this, don't you?"

Swiss nods quickly, his braids bouncing against his shoulders, the little silver clasps clicking together.

"Je sais à quel point tu le veux."

The words are ripped from his mouth when Swiss slides into him, bottoming out and gasping. He kisses him, licks across Rain's tongue like he can taste the words and swallow them down, keeping them in his chest for the rest of his life.

"Swiss...move please-need you to move..."

"Ask nicely."

"J'ai me comporté bien, je te prie." He claws at his shoulders. "Donne le moi."

Swiss groans and snaps his hips. "Didn't think your begging could sound any better...fuck."

Rain cries out when Swiss wraps his hand around his cock and strokes him in time with the snap of his hips.

"Harder. Fais-moi mal." He arches nearly off the bed when Swiss nails his prostate.

The nonstop assault has him near tears and screaming, ready to tip over the edge.

"Swiss, fuck please! Gonna-"

"Yeah, with me, do it with me."

He feels the second Swiss cums, knot filling making him choke around his breath when he spills in Swiss' hand and up over his own chest.

Swiss kisses so softly when he's coming down, one big hand resting against Rain's cheek.

"Thank you."

"Did you think I wouldn't?"

Swiss shrugs and ducks his head, nosing along Rains gills, hiding his sudden shyness.

"Wasn't sure..."

"Look at me." He waits for those gold eyes to finally glance up. "Anything that is mine to give you, I will."

He sees the words land, sees Swiss try to grit his teeth against the tight feeling in his chest.

"Everything I have is yours, Swiss. Je suis à toi”.

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mac-and-thefox · 23 hours

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Get back on the Dewther bullshit, Abs. Give the people (me and Void) what they want.

Mal....Mal you're not supposed to encourage me in my Dewther madness! (please never stop enabling me though ♥ You get them the way I do!)

Based on this post by none other than @divine-misfortune 🖤🖤

Cw: Aether angst, he needs to break too ya know? A brief mention of vomiting but it's not detailed, Latin because I'm me and they're them and no one should even question why I do things anymore 🤷🏻‍♀️

The ground feels like shifting sand, like he can't find solid footing and it threatens to rip him down, pull him to his knees and suffocate him, drift into his lungs and fill them with grit and the heavy burden of everything he'd failed to be.

He rarely stumbles, knees locked under added stones. Rains anger, Mountain's isolation, Swiss' fear, Aeon and Aurora's confusion. He holds his arms out and distributes the weight and breathes through his nose in. Out.

In.

Out.

In.

It catches, chokes and it's the first crack of many. He ignores it, shuts his eyes and pretends not to see the sleepless bruises just under his eyes, a battle against his dreams and hes wounded but not broken just yet.

He pretends his hands dont shake while he works, tries to focus on the tasks he'd been given, he pretends he doesn't flinch when a door slams too hard and it echos for hours inside of his skull.

He pretends he doesn't slam himself into the corner of the bathroom with eyes squeezed tight and his knuckles between his teeth as he holds his breath against the levee that's so close to breaking. He pretends he doesn't feel himself get dizzy, that the room doesn't get a little bit darker...

He straightens his clothes and splashes water on his face without looking at his reflection, not prepared for who would be looking back, himself or some void just waiting to spill over and take him.

He thinks if it did he wouldn't be able to stop it. If he's honest, maybe he wouldn't even try.

The walls of the halls feel like hands reaching out, fingers to squeeze his heart into still silence but he presses on. Head up, shoulders straight. He doesn't acknowledge the shadows that follow, that grow to shroud him, cover him fully like the earth over a grave.

He doesn't let them see the tremors in his body, doesn't let them hear the way his breaths hitch around each word he forces out, he doesn't let them catch him faltering.

He can't. If he falls they fall and he refuses to be the thing that breaks them.

But he feels eyes on him like still lit matches pressing against his skin, tracking every shaky step, tallying every lie he pours into their waiting hands and they swallow it down because they have no reason not to trust.

But he knows better.

He has always known better.

Dew doesn't speak, he summons silently, casting his eyes toward the door, offering an escape from the weight of eyes and too much need.

He clings to his hand and Dew simply holds tighter. Every step chips away another piece and he frantically tries to weave himself together before he turns to ash there in the hall.

The door shuts and he hits his knees, sinks and fears he might fall forever, the weight of everyone's everything like cinder blocks around his feet pulling him down to a bottomless pit.

He presses his face against Dew's belly, fingers curling around his hips and holding him there, needing to lean against something that has always been a constant.

Dew eases his fingers through his hair. Silent as always, his touch speaking in a way that words would fail him. He waits, watches as Aether tries to pull himself together, watches the fight take place even though he stays unmoving on his knees.

His eyes are black when he looks up, distant and hazy, panicked flickers of magic not knowing where to go to ease the ache flashing like lightning looking for a grounding point.

Dew cups his face, strokes his thumbs along his cheeks not yet sticky from tears.

"I'm here." He watches the breath catch in his chest and he holds it, keeps it in like it'll plug the hole on his rapidly sinking ship. "Let go."

He shakes his head, eyes unfocused and ears ringing but still clinging desperately to that last fraying thread of control he has over himself. If he breaks...

If he breaks...

"I'm right here, Aether. Put it down, just for a little while."

He doesn't release the breath in a slow, steady exhale. It rips from his chest in a shuddering sob. A sound heavy with all the things Aether's mind tells him, words he tries to never let see the light of day. The sound is angry thunder roaring about past failures, the sound of armor crushing under the weight of a well timed killing blow, the sound of his heart ripping open and flooding out endless pools of love and memories and fears of being left behind.

The silence that follows is worse. The soul deep sadness that renders him to silent sobs, breathless and broken.

Dew slides to his knees and pulls him close, up against his neck, right to his pulse and Aether's too far gone to fight it.

The warm embrace of his arms burns like a circle of holy fire and Aether would beg for him to consume him if he thought he'd listen. But Dew had never once let those flames lick across his skin.

"It's ok."

"I can't-"

"So don't."

He tries to pull back, to keep the weight of himself and everything else off of Dew's body, tries to prevent himself from dragging him down too, tries to keep back the black that threatens to swallow the light that is Dewdrop.

He shakes because if he breaks he'll destroy Dew in ways he's considered in excruciating detail, thoughts that had him on his knees spilling his guts on the floor and screaming into the silence, terrified to even look at his hands fearing they really would be stained red.

"Aether." He kisses between his horns, a soft press of his lips and a promise whispered into his hair. "I'm not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever. Quo pergis, sequar. Ubi es, ego manebo."

He clings to Dewdrop, digs his nails in and let's the walls slam down, rubble in Dew's lap. He can't breathe through the tears, he can't stop the torrent of angry, bitter words that spill out of his mouth like venom extracted from a snake.

Dew stays steady, runs his fingers down his back and praises, tells him how good he's doing, that it's ok and Aether holds on to the fact that Dew's voice doesn't shake.

Steady.

Unwavering.

The solid grounding point that Aether's storm had desperately needed.

Dew quiets the words that rip from Aether's throat as if they have a mind of their own, aiming to maim and rip at Aether's war worn heart even further.

Dew speaks his truth against the lies, presses his lips to his ears and speaks quietly there of all the ways he loves him, the ways they all love him. He holds Aether's hand against his heart, reminds him that it beats his name, whispers his vows again and again and again until Aether closes his fingers and squeezes Dew's hand.

"I'm sorry -"

"I love you."

He shakes his head. "You shouldn't have to-"

"I love you."

"I'm going to drag you down with m-"

"Quo pergis, sequar." He moves so Aether sits face to face with him. "I love you. No matter what. No matter where."

Aether leans forward, blinks out tears when he rests his head against Dew's, swallowing the air between them that tastes like promise.

"I'm broken."

Dew smiles, just a tiny tug at the corner of his lips. "I love every piece of you."

Aether shakes his head, folding himself down to lean against his shoulder, the weight not so heavy with Dew's arms around him.

"Semper?" He whispers, almost fears to let Dew hear the way the desperation clings to every letter.

Dew holds him tighter, eyes shut against the threat of his own tears, cheek against the top of Aether's head.

"Aeternum."

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