creeping-fig

[creeping-fig]

Plagued by thoughts of Subby Swiss.

Whimpery, devoted, will do anything asked of him, Swiss.

The goodest boy. Pliant and easy. Looking up at his partner like they hung the moon.

#this is the only thing i’m ever thinking abt btw

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"Close," Aeon hisses out, and Swiss releases him immediately, laughing at the way Aeon flops back onto the bed, giving up supporting himself on his elbows, chest heaving while he brushes floppy hair off a sweaty forehead. He's in a similar state, worked up and way too sensitive.

"Unholy shit," Aeon breathes, sounding delighted and fucked-out, trying to steady the rise and fall of his chest. "How many are we at now?"

Swiss doesn't know. Too many times, and they're both far too high to remember the count. Their little game of how bad they can make it for each other relies on two things: one, the shared love of an exquisite, particular sort of misery, and two, how much or Mountain's greenhouse stash they can get away with pilfering.

It's something the others don't have the patience for. Not the way they do, at least. They're over the top with it. Unnecessary. It's delicious.

Just for fun, because Swiss loves having fun and why not, he reaches for Aeon's cock, throbbing in time with his heartbeat, and gets a few fingertips on the shaft before Aeon smacks his hand away, a stoned giggle bubbling up from his throat.

"Oh don't you dare," he warns. "Don't even look at it right now."

"Break time," Swiss nods, and rolls over to his nightstand, groping for the next joint. He already feels as though his body is moving through heavy syrup against a wicked current. His own erection, just starting to flag without any stimulation, rubs against the bed and reignites the heat settled low.

He lights the joint, and grabs the old coffee mug turned makeshift ashtray. Beside him, Aeon lays spread on his back, legs wide apart, cock lying heavy and blushing in the cut of his hip. His eyes are glassy and heavy lidded, lips red from the biting and slopping kissing.

"It's gonna take ages to go down," he admits, the corner of his mouth pulling back in a stupid smile, revealing a row of charmingly crooked teeth. Swiss takes a long, indulgent inhale, holds it, and without asking, leans in. Gets his full lips right against Aeon's and breathes out. Their noses bump, and Swiss is achingly aware of every nerve in his body, how bad the want is now.

He really has no idea how many times it's been, how many times they've brought each other close just to back off entirely. The breaks have gotten longer and longer, because they're so needy for it, so sensitive, that Aeon barely has to wiggle a fingertip underneath Swiss’s head before it's throbbing and pearling at the tip again. They've been at it for a while, that's what he knows. They'll be at it for a while longer, too. Until they've worked each other up where even they, with their endless well of patience, are ready to tear their hair out in frustration.

Aeon hums when Swiss pulls away. He can't open his eyes.

"You're so high," Swiss notes, adoring.

"Uh huh," Aeon smiles, reaching blindly with a hand for any bit of Swiss he can land on. He ends up pressing a palm to his chest, giving an absent pinch to the hair he finds there to make Swiss startle. "And I want more."

"Bet you do," Swiss says, and has to fight the urge to stroke himself. Looking at Aeon, seeing how sticky his own cock is- his self control is really something else. He can allow himself a little pat on the back for it.

"Swiss," Aeon mumbles, bringing his hands to his own chest, his nipples. Rubbing. His dick twitches against his stomach.

"Yeah?" Swiss asks, feeling woozy through the drugs and the scene he's looking at.

"Feed it to me," Aeon insists.

Swiss watches in slow motion how his narrow chest rises and falls when he places the joint to his lips. Exhales just as steady.

"Fuck, s'good," he slurs, tongue too thick in his mouth. He won't stop plucking at his nipples and Swiss has to shut his eyes when he takes his hit. Coughs a bit, taps the ash into the mug. "Gonna be all fucked up."

"You already are," Swiss says, kindly placing the joint against Aeon's mouth once more.

"You know, I keep," Aeon tries, and then starts laughing. "I keep forgetting where I am." He abandons his chest to rub at his eyes and Swiss can't help but laugh, too. He takes one final hit, a huge lung full, and has a terrible idea.

"You wanna cum?" he asks.

"Mm. Yes 'n no," Aeon says reasonably. He tries peeling his eyes open, a hand reaching for Swiss’s thigh. Ticklish fingers ghosting over the muscle.

"Finish it," Swiss says, holding up the rest of the joint, which is an awfully large amount left, for a ghoul as stoned as Aeon already is. Aeon's brow raises. "You can cum when it's gone."

Aeon pauses, considering.

"That's way too much for me," Aeon says, taking the joint and hitting it. Swiss hands him the mug. He sighs his exhale, and squirms. "S'gonna be too much, Swiss." He blinks stupidly up at him, meeting Swiss’s dopey grin with his own. "Gonna be all fucked up and helpless," he adds, wiggling his eyebrows. The thought is terribly enticing. He doesn't point out the obvious, that Aeon is already to that point.

He waits until Aeon's let his eyes fall shut yet again with the next drag before brushing the back of his hand up the shaft. Aeon chokes, and his cock flexes hard, bobbing up and hitting his belly.

"Oh," Aeon gasps, back arching before he can think about it. "Oh, yeah," he says, frowning and nodding. Swiss repeats and Aeon sucks on the joint, pain and pleasure carving into his features in equal measure. Swiss feels himself slip a little more offline as the hits he'd taken begin their slow creep into the folds of his brain. Mouth a little drier, if somehow that's possible. Balls aching more. He hurts in the best way.

"Fuck," Aeon says, sounding a little hysterical. He sounds happy, and unhinged. Swiss curls thick fingers around him, groaning when he feels Aeon's dick flex in his grip. "Dunno how long I can hold it in."

"Finish the joint," Swiss says sweetly. "Get all fucked up for daddy-"

Aeon howls with laughter.

"Daddy?" he bites out. Swiss grins, unrepentant.

"Finish the joint," he repeats, "and daddy'll make you cum."

Aeon collects himself, knuckles a few tears from his eyes, ashes into the mug much later than he should have. Setting the sheets on fire would be a real downer at the best of times.

"Okay, I'm goin'," Aeon says, and continues to smoke, pushing his hips up rudely unto Swiss’s hand. Looking progressively more and more lost. "What time is it?"

Swiss glances at the clock.

"We've been here two hours," Swiss says, a little stunned.

"No shit," Aeon says, and stubs the rest of the joint out inside the mug. "Well. Does daddy wanna make me squirt yet?"

"You wanna?"

"Yes and no," Aeon repeats and Swiss is grabbing the mug from him before he drops it. Sets it heavy onto the side table, and collapses alongside Aeon, who paws at his chest. He's far gone. Squirming and writhing all on his own. Swiss wants to hold him, choke him. Kiss him breathless and fold him in half. Pull a handful of his floppy hair and get him to whine. Swiss relents, leans forward and catches Aeon's mouth against his own. It's grossly uncoordinated and wet, licking at each other more than kissing, really. While he's distracted, he doesn't notice Aeon sneaking a hand to Swiss’s balls, cupping them. Swiss groans, and then Aeon's tickling the head with clumsy fingers.

"I'll kiss it after you make me cum," Aeon promises, lips brushing Swiss’s while he speaks.

"You can hardly kiss me now," Swiss says.

"Then I'll hold m'mouth open, you can fuck it," he suggests. Doesn't miss a beat. Swiss stares. Aeon holds his gaze steady for a moment, and then the corners of his eyes are wrinkling when he lets out another stoned giggle. "That what daddy wants?"

Swiss begins jerking him off in earnest, and Aeon cries out and clutches at the sheets.

Privately, Swiss considers if he can get away with ruining Aeon's orgasm.

That's something daddy wants.

[creeping-fig]

all credit to al_explain_l8r (tt) for idea

[creeping-fig]

Terzomega for no. 39??

…because time’s run out from this list. Omega stands backstage, frozen. Hand still curled around Aether’s guitar. He’s been teching this tour–easier than facing the crowd. It’s still heavy lifting, but there’s something meditative about it. Better than actually having to play. He can work with his hands, can ease the aches of his pack, his papa. 

Can keep a close eye on them. 

Not close enough it seems. 

The crowd is screaming, but not in the way he’s used to. This is concern, worry, confusion. Omega’s heart hammers in his chest. He puts Aether’s guitar down, leans it haphazardly against an equipment trunk and moves to peek out around the curtain. Just in time for Nihil to slip past him, out under the lights, in front of the stunned crowd. 

Omega’s stomach turns, so does he, stumbling around just in time to see Terzo between two of Nihil’s ghouls. His muscle, dressed up like humans. No masks. Omega growls, low, can’t help it. Fingers clenching to fists at his sides. 

Terzo looks up first, eyes lighting up at the sight of him, and then, Omega can move again. Striding over to them in three long steps. 

“What are you doing?”

One of the ghouls looks at him like he’s stupid. 

“Following orders.” 

“Omega–” Terzo whispers, head craning up at him. “It’s ok.” 

Omega can hear the fear in his voice, the way he tries to hide it–to make it all OK again. Omega reaches for him, cups that painted cheek in one big hand. 

“It’s not–”

“Out of the way, Ghoul.” 

Omega sneers, but Terzo shakes his head. 

“Let me go, ‘meg,” Terzo whispers. 

Omega can’t–can’t fathom it, but the intensity in Terzo eyes speaks volumes. Let him go, let this happen. They can try to fix it later. 

Omega tries to swallow the feeling that it can’t be fixed–that it is over, ruined, fucked. 

He bends down, he must be allowed to have this right? They can’t take this away from him. 

He presses his lips to Terzo’s. Tasting lipstick and fear as Terzo returns it, pressing up. Lips moving over his, soft and lazy like they have all the time in the world even though they both know they have none. 

Omega hopes this won’t be the last time, but he kisses Terzo like it is. 

[creeping-fig]

young cardinal and /his/ ghoul

[creeping-fig]

terzomega (cardinal terzo) h0rny hours i guess

#fuck omg

[creeping-fig]

Lady in an interior by Louis Charles Verwee (1832-1882)

[creeping-fig]

nah... I'm out (cr @/angemeritus on twt)

#oh my ... fuck

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Send me a Ship and a Number and I will Write a Kiss

…good morning.

…goodnight.

…goodbye.

…where it hurts.

…where it doesn’t hurt.

…on a falling tear.

…to shut them up.

…in secrecy.

…in public.

…desperately.

…in joy.

…in grief.

…discreetly.

…casually.

…passionately.

…lazily.

…to distract.

…as encouragement.

…for luck.

…on a scar.

…on a place of insecurity.

…in a rush of adrenaline.

…in relief.

…in danger.

…as a ‘yes’.

…as an apology.

…as a suggestion.

…as a lie.

…as a promise.

…as comfort.

…after a small rejection.

…to wake up.

…forcefully.

…to pretend.

…to gain something.

…to give up control.

…without a motive.

…because they’re running out of time.

…because time’s run out.

…because the world is ending.

…because the world is saved.

…out of pride.

…out of greed.

…out of lust.

…out of anger.

…out of envy or jealousy.

…out of spite.

…out of habit.

…out of necessity.

…out of love.

#i highly doubt anyone will send any requests #but fuck it i'll write some mediocre fanfic if anyone wants me too

[creeping-fig]

Please oh please would you bless us with Aeon and Aurora for #23?

#23....in relief. Anything for you, Mal ♥ There's is a little angst in this one but it's unfounded. Everything and everyone is more than fine.

Aeon wakes alone, in the dark, in a bed he barely knows.  The spot usually occupied by Aurora is empty–cold. He blinks against the pitch black of the room, curtains pulled so tight they block out the moon. He’s still not used to it–all this light. This warmth. This place. 

And now Aurora, his lifeline, the thing he has been clinging to for the last five days since his summoning, is gone. 

He sits up, sheets tangled around his legs, blankets all kicked to the foot of the bed. It’s so warm here. 

The room, his room apparently, is silent around him. Split only by the ragged sound of his breathing. Harsh inhales, a gasp for air as he reaches over to Aurora’s side of the bed just to make sure she’s really not here. 

He swallows, throat tight. Thoughts spiraling. They took her. He doesn’t know who they are but someone must have. She’s gotten sent back to the pit or something–the one person who has kept him sane. The one person who understands what a mess this all is, how out of his depth he is. 

He has imprinted on her like a duckling. The second he came to in the summoning circle and saw her, shivering, wrapped in a soft blanket. They locked eyes and he knew. Knew they understood each other. They have been inseparable ever since. 

Cirrus said something about trauma bonding, Aeon doesn’t know what that means. 

Aeon pulls his legs up, tucks his feet under his thighs. He leans forward, elbows on his legs and digs his fingers into his scalp. 

He’s alone now. He’s sure of it. Alone to navigate this weird and sometimes wonderful place by himself. He presses his palms into his eyes. He’s not going to cry about it, he’s not. 

There’s a shuffle from the attached bathroom. Then the door opens and he looks up. 

She’s there. Backlit by the bathroom light. Pink hued hair catching the light. She looks at him, sleep still in her eyes. She frowns. 

“Did I wake you up? I’m sorry–”

Aeon is out of bed before she finishes, crushing her body to his, pulling her close like he could pull her inside of him if he tried hard enough. He grabs her face with both hands, she looks up at him, stunned. But he doesn’t process that before he’s bending to kiss her. It’s hard, closed lipped, desperate. Like it is the only way he can prove she’s real. She tastes like toothpaste. She’s still sleepwarm in his arms, soft. She kisses him back with a surprised laugh. 

“What was that for?” Aurora asks when he pulls back, eyes darting over her face. She’s real. She didn’t leave. 

“Thought you were gone.” 

She laughs, full and melodic and Aeon feels every anxious piece of himself calm, the jagged pieces click back into place.  “Silly,” she says, kissing him softly again, this time it lingers.  “I’ll never leave you.”

#they're so in love btw

[creeping-fig]

Please oh please would you bless us with Aeon and Aurora for #23?

#23....in relief. Anything for you, Mal ♥ There's is a little angst in this one but it's unfounded. Everything and everyone is more than fine.

Aeon wakes alone, in the dark, in a bed he barely knows.  The spot usually occupied by Aurora is empty–cold. He blinks against the pitch black of the room, curtains pulled so tight they block out the moon. He’s still not used to it–all this light. This warmth. This place. 

And now Aurora, his lifeline, the thing he has been clinging to for the last five days since his summoning, is gone. 

He sits up, sheets tangled around his legs, blankets all kicked to the foot of the bed. It’s so warm here. 

The room, his room apparently, is silent around him. Split only by the ragged sound of his breathing. Harsh inhales, a gasp for air as he reaches over to Aurora’s side of the bed just to make sure she’s really not here. 

He swallows, throat tight. Thoughts spiraling. They took her. He doesn’t know who they are but someone must have. She’s gotten sent back to the pit or something–the one person who has kept him sane. The one person who understands what a mess this all is, how out of his depth he is. 

He has imprinted on her like a duckling. The second he came to in the summoning circle and saw her, shivering, wrapped in a soft blanket. They locked eyes and he knew. Knew they understood each other. They have been inseparable ever since. 

Cirrus said something about trauma bonding, Aeon doesn’t know what that means. 

Aeon pulls his legs up, tucks his feet under his thighs. He leans forward, elbows on his legs and digs his fingers into his scalp. 

He’s alone now. He’s sure of it. Alone to navigate this weird and sometimes wonderful place by himself. He presses his palms into his eyes. He’s not going to cry about it, he’s not. 

There’s a shuffle from the attached bathroom. Then the door opens and he looks up. 

She’s there. Backlit by the bathroom light. Pink hued hair catching the light. She looks at him, sleep still in her eyes. She frowns. 

“Did I wake you up? I’m sorry–”

Aeon is out of bed before she finishes, crushing her body to his, pulling her close like he could pull her inside of him if he tried hard enough. He grabs her face with both hands, she looks up at him, stunned. But he doesn’t process that before he’s bending to kiss her. It’s hard, closed lipped, desperate. Like it is the only way he can prove she’s real. She tastes like toothpaste. She’s still sleepwarm in his arms, soft. She kisses him back with a surprised laugh. 

“What was that for?” Aurora asks when he pulls back, eyes darting over her face. She’s real. She didn’t leave. 

“Thought you were gone.” 

She laughs, full and melodic and Aeon feels every anxious piece of himself calm, the jagged pieces click back into place.  “Silly,” she says, kissing him softly again, this time it lingers.  “I’ll never leave you.”

[creeping-fig]

how about 38 with dew and ifrit? perhaps when they find out ifrit needs to leave?🙏

So I doubt you wanted real actual angst but you can't ask me for DewFrit running out of time kissing and not expect me to do something horrible with it!

Thank's for the excuse to make things sad, Kai♥!

Ifrit has hours at best. Minutes at worst. He shouldn’t do this. He should just go now, should run. Better that than certain banishment. But he can’t. He can’t leave without saying goodbye. 

Dew’s in the ghoul wing. He’s the only one there, it’s the middle of a beautiful summer day and the rest of the pack is out on the grounds. But Dew’s in his room, picking out a tune on his bass. Working on a song Ifrit hasn’t heard before, something new.  He can’t wait to hear it when it’s finished. The realization that he won’t comes delayed. It staggers him just outside of Dew’s open door. He leans against the frame just out of sight and breathes. Forces calm into his limbs. 

He hopes Dew will forgive him. For not telling him. For saying goodbye like this. He hopes, when the dust settles, Dew understands.

He steadies himself and raps on the doorframe. Dew’s head shoots up, deep blue eyes finding Ifrit’s. 

“Sounds good,” Ifrit says, stepping into the room.

“Just fucking around,” Dew shrugs. “You here to drag me outside?” 

“Nah, I know it won’t work.” Ifrit sits next to him on his bed, close enough that their thighs touch. 

“Then why?” 

“Can’t I just come see you?” 

Dew rolls his eyes. “If you’d ever done it before maybe–”

Ifrit cuts him off, he leans in and seals his lips over Dew’s. It’s forceful, harsher than he means. A hard press of their lips together with no elegance. It’s chaste at first. Ifrit just needing to not waste these precious moments talking about something that doesn’t matter anymore. 

Ifrit will never come in here just to see how Dew’s doing again. Dew will never realize how many times Ifrit did it under the guise of trying to get him to go do something. Ifrit slips his fingers into Dew’s hair and holds him close. Inhales the salt water scent of him, savors the crisp clean taste as Dew opens his mouth for him, scoots closer. Groans into his mouth as Ifrit kisses him with everything he has. Ifrit never wants it to end. Wants this moment to last for eternity. Their whole lives balenced on the edge of this cliff until the sun explodes. But they can't. Every second that ticks by drags them closer to the end. And Ifrit can't be in here when they come for him--he won't let Dew see him like that.

Ifrit breaks the kiss first–he has to before Dew climbs into his lap. Before this escalates into something he really doesn’t have time for. Ifrit tucks Dew’s hair behind his ear as he stands up. Forcibly pulls himself away from Dew before he allows himself to stay. He lets his fingers drag over his jaw one more time, gentle, adoring. Dew leans into it. Then blinks up at him as Ifrit backs off, puts space between them.

“What was that for?”  Dew touches his lips, kiss swollen. 

“Just because I love you,” Ifrit says trying to keep levity in his voice. To make it sound like teasing instead of a heavy truth. He wishes he was a worse liar. Wishes Dew could  see through it. But grateful, at the same time that Dew doesn’t ask, doesn’t push. He just rolls his eyes again, cheeks turning violet, looking away to hide his blush. 

“And now you’re just going to leave?” 

Ifrit shrugs, “I've got places to be, droplet.” 

Dew huffs out a laugh. “Whatever, you'd better come back later and finish what you started.” 

Ifrit laughs as a way to wave him off, moving toward the door with an easy grin that he feels slipping with every step.  “We’ll see,” he says, knowing it’s a lie. He hopes, someday, Dew will forgive him for this too.

Dew scoffs, he’s already plucking at his bass again, he barely looks up.  “Later, ‘frit.”  “Bye, Dew.” 

[creeping-fig]

From the prompt list

Dew/Aether #26

From this list.

#26 - as an apology

-----

"You're serious?"

Aether nods, but he can't look up. The disbelief in Dew's voice is something he expected, but it feels so much worse that he'd anticipated.

"Yes," he breathes, fiddling with a bracelet. "I told Papa this morning." Aether swallows, mouth dry. "I would have told you sooner, but -"

"Why?"

Aether sighs, scrubs at his face with both hands. The scent of antibacterial soap floods his nose, skin made dry from endless washing during his infirmary shift. He stares at the little ghoul's boots, black leather stark against the white tile floors. Maybe it was a mistake to do this here. Maybe he should have waited until tonight, until they were tangled up in bed and Dew was blissed out and half asleep. Maybe he'd sound less betrayed.

Somehow, Aether doubts it.

"I told you," he sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I'm tired, Dew. Too tired to keep up with the rest of you." Aether rubs the back of his neck. "You remember the last leg, right? How many times did Papa talk to me about my mistakes? How many times did you have to pick up my slack?"

"Aeth -"

Aether holds up a hand, and Dewdrop pauses. Aether can feel his scowl, eyes burning into the top of his head. He still can't make himself look up.

"How many nights did you have to spend massaging my hands, just so I could play the next day?"Aether cracks his knuckles, wincing at their stiffness. "Besides, they need me here." He gestures vaguely at the empty infirmary lobby. "Now that Omega's gone, I'm the only full-time healer we've got."

He huffs out a harsh exhale, pinches the bridge of his nose. This was so much easier in his head. He watched the little ghoul cross his legs, scuffing the toe of his boot against the floor.

"I just...I can't do it anymore, Dew. I don't have the energy."

He falls silent after that, shoulders hunched and hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, and waits. Waits for Dew to yell, to grab his coat and throttle him, to punch a wall - anything to express the rage he swears he can feel pouring from that slight body.

"I understand," Dew says instead, and somehow that's the thing that makes Aether look at him.

Dewdrop's expression reads cool, but his shoulders sit tense. The tip of his tail flicks through the air, obvious agitation, but it seems to be unconscious. There's something hard in his copper eyes, and Aether swallows hard.

"You...you what?"

"I get it," Dew says with a shrug, rolling his neck. "I was around when Zeph went through this, remember?"

That's...a fair point. Zephyr may have only joined them on stage for a few months, but Aether remembers very clearly all the evenings spent helping with their pain and exhaustion. He sighs, nods.

"Yeah, I do. But this isn't the same -"

"You could've told me, y'know," Dew interrupts, softer. "Before now, I mean. Before you told Papa."

"I almost did," Aether admits. Dew's casual demeanor has him off balance - he expected to have his coat singed by now. "But I was worried -"

"I wouldn't have told anyone," he interrupts, voice soft, and Aether stutters to a halt. Watches the little ghoul wring his hands. "Wouldn't have done that to you."

Aether blinks. Twice. That thought hadn't even occurred to him, not for a second. His hesitence came only from the risk of upsetting Dew, not from some fear of having his retirement revealed before he was ready. He cants his head and peers at Dewdrop, brow furrowed, and finds something new in his eyes. A watery glimmer of something so obviously sad, so fearful, that it makes Aether's heart ache.

"Oh, Dew..."

In half a breath they're caught up in each other, Aether holding the little ghoul to his chest in a crushing embrac, one hand on the back of his ash blond head and the other arm curled tight around him. Dew's hands fist into his shirt and he plants his feet between Aether's, huffing against his chest, and for a few moments they stay like that. Holding one another in silence while Aether collects his words and tries to figure out what he could possibly say to assure the one he loves more than any other that he'd never question his trust. To apologize for even making him think otherwise.

Then Dew pulls away just enough to look up at him with those gorgeous eyes, the gentlest smile curving his lips, and Aether has his answer.

The kiss is soft, gentle. No urgency, no tongue, just the perfect meeting of their mouths. Dew's warm hands come up to cup Aether's cheeks and Aether sighs through his nose, muscles he didn't know he'd tensed going lax. It feels like an age before they part, and Aether knows he doesn't have to say it, but -

"I'm sorry, firefly," he whispers, rubbing Dew's back and nosing at his temple. "I didn't mean -"

"I know," Dew assures him, stroking his face, eyes searching his own. "I...I know."

Dew kisses him again, and Aether decides any other words can wait until his hands stop shaking.

#ohhhh they make me sick #dewther my loves

[creeping-fig]

Could you please write a number 7 with Swiss and Aeon ❤️

From this list.

#7 - to shut them up.

-----

"This is bullshit," Aeon huffs, tossing his controller against the arm of the couch and throwing both hands in the air. "You're cheating!"

"I would never," Swiss says with a smirk, taking a swig of his beer. "Besides, how would I even cheat at Mario Kart?"

Aeon squints at him, lips pursed. He kneels on the couch cushion, makes himself taller, and Swiss raises an eyebrow. There's obvious amusement lining his face despite the other ghoul's efforts to be intimidating - Swiss thinks he'd be more successful if he weren't dressed in pajama pants covered in cartoon vampires.

"Ten races. In a row." Aeon leans in close, until Swiss can see the Cheeto dust stuck at the corner of his lips. "There's no way you aren't cheating."

"Someone's a sore loser," Swiss grins, watching his preferred Waluigi take a celebratory lap around the track. "Don't hate me 'cause I got skills, baby."

Aeon's tail comes up to thwack him in the shin and Swiss snickers, reaching out to ruffle the kid's hair. Aeon squawks in protest, bats at his arm, and Swiss really can't help the fond warmth that bubbles up in his chest.

"I'm onto you, Army," Aeon spits, a bony finger coming up to poke him in the chest. Swiss' gaze catches on his downturned mouth. "I'm gonna figure you out, I -"

Swiss grabs his t-shirt and Aeon interrupts himself with a hmmpf when Swiss tugs him into a quick kiss. A sweet little surprise, one that leaves Aeon with his arms raised and his eyes open. Swiss pulls back after a few seconds and gives him a wink.

"Eleventh time's the charm, kiddo," he teases, patting Aeon on his pinking cheek. The other ghoul licks his lips, nods.

"I'm gonna get your ass," he grumbles, grabbing his controller. "Just you wait."

Aeon crosses his legs, and Swiss doesn't mention it.

[creeping-fig]

frothing at the fuckign mouth at Simone Di Meo's cover for Bagman Brave and the Bold #5

[creeping-fig]

from my Twitter 🦇

[creeping-fig]

in my ceaseless quest to find the queerest girliest most transsexual joker design made available by a dc artist i stumbled upon kristafer anka’s joker. by god

this has EVERYTHING. the coiffed hair.. the collar.. the novelty bomb earrings.. the glass eye.. the cinched waist.. i fear this is the gayest joker on the net we’ve peaked its all downhill from here