World’s okayest fan fiction writer Bouncing from hyperfixation to hyperfixation like a DVD screensaver So, so tired all the goddamn time 🏳️⚧️ he/him, 21 y/o NSFW occasionally, MDNI
Welcome in! You can call me Plague, I've been writing fiction in various forms since my hands could reach a keyboard, and have been active in various fandoms as a writer for about six years! Currently, my main fandoms are Dispatch, The Pitt, the band Ghost and Undertale/Deltarune! Fic requests are open unless labeled otherwise!
What I will write
General: angst, fluff, smut, hurt/comfort
The Pitt:
- Rabbot
- Abbot x Reader (specifically gn! reader, m!reader or transmasc!reader)
- Robby x Reader (specifically gn! reader, m!reader or transmasc!reader)
Dispatch:
- Flambert
- Coupunch (maybe)
UT/DR:
- Mettatenna (both in and out of human AU)
- Any ship I'm familiar with (excluding characters who are minors!!)
- General character studies when applicable
Ghost:
- Papas i-v x reader (specifically gn! reader, m!reader or transmasc!reader)
- Any ghouls x ghoul(s) or x Papa(s)
- Any ghouls x reader (same restrictions apply)
What I won't write
Papas x Papas
Straight ships of canonically gay characters
NC/r*pe, any ship or smut involving minors, heavy gore, scat/emeto, etc (subject to amending)
Masterlist
The Pitt
Coming soon; be the first to request something!
Dispatch
Cenotaph (ongoing; on hiatus)
Content: Robert Robertson III x Flambae, hurt/comfort, angst, identity crisis, possible eventual smut
Ghost
Surrounded in Cupidity
Content: Terzo x Omega x Dewdrop x Aether x Cirrus x Swiss x Mountain, bondage, overstimulation, face-fucking, double penetration, light CNC, pegging, Cirrus being a queen, Swiss being a little shit, Dewdrop being kind of pathetic
This close (to where you want to be)
Content: bottom Terzo x top Gn!reader, edging, dacryphilia, bondage, reader being mean to Terzo (don’t worry, he likes it,) Terzo losing a bet
Wherever you may hide away
Content: Terzo x ghoul!masc!reader, CNC, primal/predator/prey, size kink, safewords (included, not used,) humiliation kink, dacryphilia, overstimulation
La Creatura Mini-fic
Content: what I think happened between chapters 8 & 9 of @stellargh0ul's La Creatura AU (or: Terzo getting rightfully chewed out, the fic)
Requests:
Copia x m!reader; tooth-rotting fluff
Primo x m!reader; fluff, Primo being an old man
Terzo x ghoul!masc!reader; on-stage shenanigans, NSFW
The things we see when looking through a Shadow Crystal are imperfect reflections of either the future or an alternate reality/timeline.
I was watching HalfBreadChaos’ newest video earlier today, and something they said made me think of this:
What if Shadow Crystals reflected things back at us? In a similar fashion to a pane of glass or water, what if everything we see in the Crystals is a reflection of something else?
Let me explain (long post ahead be warned).
Note: I’ve typed this out like 4 times now and tumblr refuses to save it, and I think it’s bc I keep trying to add pictures for evidence. At this point, it’s not gonna work and I refuse to type this out all over again. Everything I cite about in game text or descriptions is in the wiki. Just trust me on those part at least. I have pictures I just can’t add them.
Section 1: Reflections
Glass and water are reflective surfaces. However, the reflections they hold are not 1:1 mimics of reality.
Take for example, a mirror. When you look into a mirror, you see “yourself” looking back. But this “you” doesn’t directly match the you of reality. “Your” hair is swooped in the wrong direction, the scar on your left check is now on your right, and the writing on “your” shirt is backwards. The “you” in the mirror looks enough like you that the differences don’t truly matter, but they are still differences. A mirror reflects reality, but it’s not a 1:1 match. It reflects reality imperfectly.
The same principle can be applied and extended to glass in something like a window, and even to water. When looking at “yourself” in those surfaces, those aforementioned differences still remain. But now, the “you” that is caught in the reflection is slightly transparent, allowing for the items or the lakebed behind it to be seen. This reflection is even more imperfect, as it is further removed from the reality of yourself.
This is highlighted even further in water. If there are ripples in the water, the reflected “you” is distorted even further than before. Its form can even become almost unrecognizable. These reflections are all imperfect.
How does this relate to the Shadow Crystals though?
Section 2: Shadow Crystals and their Relation to Glass and Water
The Shadow Crystals’ Light World counterpart is a single piece of Glass. Its Dark World sprite is a small, black shard of glass with a grayish outline. It is also is described to “move like water in the hand”. There is also a line in Chapter 4 that ends off with “and from the bitter water something grew. It looked like glass.” that is heavily implied to be talking about Shadow Crystals.
So we have multiple instances of the Crystals being referred to with water imagery, as well as the Crystals themselves being a shard of glass. And as stated above, water and glass are reflective surfaces that reflect reality imperfectly.
So what if the Shadow Crystals do something similar? Same concept, different application. What if instead of reality, they reflect something else? Maybe they reflect future points in a set reality, or even reflect a different reality all together?
Section 3: Shadow Crystals and their Light World Reflections
For this part, let’s focus on what we see when looking through the Glass that the Shadow Crystals become in the Light World.
Take for example Kris being able to see through their hand. Many of us, myself included, believe that them being able to see through their hand implies they might lose it at some point (along with a lot of other hints, but this is one of the biggest ones). We view it as foreshadowing for something that will happen later on in the game. But what is foreshadowing if not showing us the future?
If the Kris-loses-their-hand theory is correct, the Crystal shows us the future of the story of Deltarune. However. It doesn’t show it to us fully accurately.
Because, when you lose your hand, you don’t see through it. You see the absence of it.
Let me explain.
When looking at the place where a limb once was, you are not seeing through that limb. “Seeing through” implies that it is there to begin with and your gaze is passing straight through an object already present. However, once a limb is lost, it’s no longer there at all. You cannot see through something that isn’t present, you’re just seeing the absence of it.
If Kris was seeing the future as it was going to happen, they would see the space where their hand was, not a transparent hand they can see through. Supposing the theory is true, in Chapter 1 Kris is able to see their future. But they only see a reflection of it through the Crystal’s lens. A reflection that doesn’t actually reflect the reality of the situation. An imperfect reflection.
But that point relied on a lot of assumptions. Well, how about another example?
Take the text about Noelle leaning close and whispering to Kris. A scene like this does, in fact, happen on the weird route. It’s the infamous couch scene. So, assuming you are playing through the weird route, the Crystal is, in fact, showing you the future. And it seems to be an accurate model at that.
But…it isn’t. The Crystal never said the two were sitting together. Even ignoring that and writing it off for the sake of the dialogue sounding cooler (valid enough reasoning), there’s still another issue. In the couch scene, though it is hard to tell from our perspective as the soul, Noelle doesn’t seem to be whispering.
Hear me out.
In this scene, Noelle and Kris are talking. They’re sitting together. When Noelle’s textbox comes up, her text is formatted normally.
Normally, when characters in Deltarune are whispering, the text gets significantly smaller. I wish I could pull up a picture of what I mean, but tumblr won’t let me add images to this. Basically what I mean is:
“When a character is whispering, their text is smaller and thinner.” “When they are talking normally, their text is normal sized and thicker.”
Noelle’s text is normally sized, implying that while yes, the Shadow Crystal does show us the future in the weird route, it is once again reflecting it imperfectly. Noelle is close by, but she’s not whispering, she’s taking at a normal volume.
Ok so what about the normal route then? Theres no scene like this on the normal route.
That’s why I think the Crystals can also reflect alternate realities or timelines. (Along with them seeing the light world in the dark will but that’s next section)
For all of the reasons above, the Crystal imperfectly reflects the couch scene. But instead of the Crystal showing this as the “future” to a weird route player, it shows it as an “alternate timeline” to a normal route player. Same event, same concept, same execution, but different interpretations based on the context of the route the player is on. But the reflection is imperfect regardless.
So even if we are not playing the weird route, even if we have never played the weird route, the Crystal still shows us this. It is still showing us the reality of another time when we did do the weird route and this scene did play out. It does so using the same imperfections, but it still does regardless of the route you’re on.
As for the Susie dialogue, it’s much harder to say. Susie “glaring coldly” can be applied to so many things at once. It could be a weird route only thing, it could be what happens when she find out Kris is working with the Knight, it could be something else entirely. It’s too hard to say for certain with the little information we have. That being said, I think it’ll be a similar situation to the Noelle dialogue: depending on the context, it can be reflecting two “different” things. We just have no way of knowing right now, and I have no real speculation on how this theory applies to this line of text right now.
But on to the Dark World now, the much simpler of the two
Section 4: Shadow Crystals and their Dark World Reflections
The Shadow Crystals in each Dark World show us the Light World equivalent of the Dark World. This is another reason why I think Shadow Crystals also reflect alternate realities, since the Light World is technically an alternate reality to the Dark World. Simple, right?
As for their imperfections, it’s much harder to say. The text describing the abandoned classroom, computer lab, and the church are all accurate. There’s nothing I can point out wrong with them, they’re essentially just saying“you’re in a room, yippie”.
Although. There is the line that follows them up saying “but, it must’ve just been your imagination”. So that line in and of itself is the imperfection. They do, in fact, reflect reality, but the doubt cast by that reflection is what makes it imperfect. Idrk. Do with this what you will. I’m not entirely sure either.
However. The line about the tv being smashed in Chapter 3. Is incorrect. “Smashed” implies it was completely destroyed. That it was no longer intact. The tv is not smashed though. It is just damaged. It’s still, relatively, in one piece.
Is this semantics? Yes. But for a community that dissects every line of dialogue in this game, sometimes semantics matters.
The Crystals are reflecting an alternate reality in the form of the Light World, but this time, the imperfection is not just in the doubt, but also in the fate of the tv. It sits there, damaged, but not destroyed. The Crystals once again reflect something imperfectly.
Final Thoughts
Is this theory perfect?
No. No it’s not.
I had to rely on a lot of speculation and a fair amount of hand waving. But I do genuinely believe this could be a possibility. The Crystals are undoubtedly showing us something, and I believe that something is an imperfect reflection of the future or an alternate timeline/reality.
But what about the prophecy text, I hear you ask?
Well…
The prophecy was foretold across time and space. It doesn’t have the same rules as everything else. Across the Light and Dark Worlds, it remains the same, ever unchanging. And the Crystals reflect that. Their only perfect reflection comes from the one constant throughout this story. Hell, maybe it’s perfection is the imperfection. The one true exception to this theory is this constant. Kinda poetic, is it not?
Thank you so much if you got to the end. Hopefully this makes at least some amount of sense. Even though I’ve had to rewrite this 4 times, I did really like thinking about this. Hopefully it got you thinking at least a little bit too.
Additionally, I think the chapter 4 line about water to glass is important, specifically the part right before what you mentioned - “and so wept the fallen stars.” HBC drew attention to this, and how the fallen stars seem to be the secret bosses with their motifs of having lost/seeking their freedom, thus I think the specific actions the crystals show us the outcomes of are actions related to that removal of freedom, or the usurping of someone else’s. Maybe those choices are the weird route, maybe it means picking the decisions Kris would least agree with, I don’t know. But the deviation within the glass is caused by tangible actions taken outside of it, and I think the nature of the glass tells us the nature of said deviations.
Ch5 of Cenotaph is in the works, but in the meantime, someone please validate that Oh No! By Marina is an extremely Robert-core song. I was listening to it while writing and realized the lyrics really fit him scarily well, if you have the mildly insane ears to listen.
We. Don’t need to talk about how long this chapter of Cenotaph took me. Or that it’s 4k words longer than the last chapter. Look, it’ll be worth it - next chapter’s gonna be wild, I promise, but as for now, enjoy the typical one-meme no-context spoiler summary of the now-finally-released chapter 4 of “Robert’s ongoing identity crisis and increasingly problematic coping mechanisms, the fic!”
Chapter 3 of Cenotaph is out!! If you were looking for more angst, here we are! As per usual, enjoy a no context spoiler meme for your viewing pleasure to sum up the new chapter :)
So I had this really stupid idea for a 5+1 fic, involving 5 times Robert tried to ask out Flambae, but if I start working on it, it’ll probably result in my current fic (also Flambert; Robert’s post-Shroud identity crisis) taking a bit longer. So I’ll crowd-source the decision: finish the angst first and write this new one after, or fall into the trap of having two simultaneous WIPs?
A promise common enough among heroes. Sacrifice is never encouraged, but the majority know it's always a possibility.
"Oh, I would kill for you,"
And that is a promise villains make to each other. While most would kill for less, there's still a quality of romance at being motivation enough for someone to steal the most valuable commodity of all: lives.
Okay, well, I would be kind for you.
Yet neither of those are what Flambae promises Robert. At least, it's not the grand promise he wants to make. He will, if he needs to, die and kill for Robert, but he'd do that for anyone on the team or his family.
I would reject the impulses to indulge in my violent nature for you.
What he does because of Robert—for Robert—is refuse the call of destruction coming from the cackling in this flame inside him. He does not need to burn down the world. He does not need to burn himself down, either. He need only provide a bit of warmth to this world, to be one more light in the darkness, to be a star guiding the lost and weary onward to salvation.
He wants to be this for the world because Robert believes he can be them. The person who should know more than most the destructive might of fire and Flambae's fire specifically, yet he has never once faltered in his conviction that those flames can be used for the ultimate good.
It's that unwavering resolve that compels Flambae to choose the path that always seemed the hardest to him with the fewest rewards. It's because of Robert that he sees that doing good isn't nearly as difficult as he thought it would be, and that being good is a worthy reward all on its own.
I would wake up and get out of bed an hour early every morning to make coffee and breakfast for you.
And it isn't just the heroic kind of good, either. It isn't just saving lives and fighting villains and keeping structures from collapsing.
It's the good of lying in the same bed as Robert. When he is fast asleep, so deep within his dreams that it's obvious how much he trusts Flambae, getting better sleep than he had when he first came to Flambae's home.
It's the good of rising from that bed earlier than he used to. He's well-rested, so he doesn't stumble or yawn so much as he gets himself ready. And then he goes into the kitchen, making Robert's coffee the way he likes it and cooking two portions of breakfast and making certain to put food in Beef's bowl, too.
It's the good of seeing Robert smile so warmly and softly when his eyes land on Flambae. A kiss on the cheek, a thank-you as he takes his mug and plate, remaining close as he eats to absorb that excess heat.
I would be there for you no matter what. I would leave the light on for you until you felt safe. I would hold you so tight until you felt at peace.
He has Robert in his arms, folded around him like Flambae's auditioning to be Robert's only blanket. He certainly brings the warmth as he holds a flame in his hand. Robert, obviously, doesn't touch it, but he gets close. Like a fidgety habit, his fingers swirl around the heated air and the thin wisps of smoke. It's as much to chase away the darkness as it is to chase away the cold, both the kind that exists in the bedroom around them and the kind that lives deep within Robert's soul.
Sure, I can be strong, if I have to. I can fight if it's truly necessary.
Because that's what metahumans are. Most of them have this innate tendency towards strength and violence, no matter where along the moral spectrum they lie. Flambae is no exception. He might just be the greatest proof because of his flames.
But when I think about the way that I love you, it does not make me feel violent.
But he's also the proof that even metahumans with the strongest inclination toward destruction are capable of more than that.
It makes me feel quiet... and gentle... and calm...
Someone believing that he is capable of more gives him the strength to be soft.
When I look at you, I know I am not a violent dog, and I will not bite.
That easy love in Robert's eyes when brown meets amber is enough to convince him that he's more than he ever thought he could be, not just great and strong and mighty and powerful...
...but good.
---
Idea from @fandom-skellyweirdo-jumper -> 1. Flambae X "I would be kind for you" by sterzhen/Joshua Park
Gonna do the three ideas separately since they won't fit all together and so I can keep the prompts in an easy-to-find place. I hope that's alright :D
The question comes out of nowhere, breaking the comfortable silence of a rare night off for the former villain and his dispatcher.
“Hm?” Flambae lifts his head from where it rests against Robert’s chest to meet his eyes.
“That I was Mecha Man, I mean. After the bar fight, you said ‘it is you.’ When did you figure it out?”
He’s silent for a moment, the peaceful expression evaporating from his face as he recalls what Robert is sure are some moments that are as painful for Flambae to think about as they are for him, in light of how their relationship has progressed since the hesitant friendship they’d found before that night at the taco shop.
“I think I always suspected, probably. Your voice is a hard one to forget, especially when it’s the last thing you heard before…” he trails off, but what he means to say, Robert can hear clearly.
“Then why did you step in to protect me every time? At the Sardine, hell, even at the gym. If you wanted me dead, it would have been easy.”
“You bet your weak normie ass it would be, bitch,” he snorts. “But I guess there was a part of me that, I dunno, didn’t believe it. Chose to pretend it wasn’t true. I couldn’t reconcile the annoyingly skilled dispatcher who managed to put up with our shit and actually make us good at our jobs with, you know, the man who took my fingers, my freedom, and my sense of purpose all at once. I couldn’t see those as the same guy - I didn’t want to. Plus, it was a bit of a bummer to think that this pathetic white normie bitch managed to beat me in a fight,” he chuckles.
“Twice.”
“Don’t push it, bitch, I could still kill you whenever I wanted.” Maybe a few months ago, those words would have set him on edge, but now muttered lightheartedly against his chest by a man he would die for - perhaps even more poignantly, live for - the only reaction it evokes in the dispatcher is a fond laugh.
“You wouldn’t kill your niece’s favorite hero,” Robert half-brags.
“I still can’t believe she’s a Mecha Man fan,” he grumbles.
“What can I say? I’m just that cool. Kids love a depressed millennial in a knock-off Transformers mech.”
“Truly a hit with every demographic,” Flambae agrees. They return to a comfortable silence for a moment, until the former villain breaks it this time.
“Do you know why you’re her favorite hero?”
“What, it isn’t for my good looks and sparkling personality?”
“Keep dreaming,” he teases. “But no. I heard her talking to one of her friends about it, and I believe her words specifically were ‘he saved my uncle.’”
“Saved, huh?” The smell of smoke, sound of police sirens and sight of a pair of severed fingers make their way uninvited into the forefront of Robert’s memory.
“Yeah.” He pauses, glancing at his own mangled hand, contemplating his next words. “She’s right, you know. I’ve told you before, for so much of my life, I wanted to die. It took losing what I thought I had, being sent to prison, to realize how much I had to lose - my parents, my sister, my niece, Alice, even just the feeling of flying over LA. It… you reminded me that I had things to live for. People to do right by. So I guess that’s another reason I didn’t really want to kill you, because, yeah, you did save me. So thanks for that, I guess.”
He finally glances up at Robert again, finding watery eyes staring back down at him with a mixture of pride, pain, and excruciatingly all-consuming love that makes Flambae’s heart twist in a way he could never remember it doing before he met Robert.
“You gotta stop saying shit like that and then still have the nerve to call me a crybaby,” Robert sniffles.
“Well I’m not wrong, bitch, you’re crying right now,” he teases back, tone softening. “I love you, azizam, you know that?”
“I love you too.”
—
I hope people enjoy their dynamic as much as I do; honestly the only reason I wrote this is because this idea has been in my head for ages but it didn’t quite fit in my fic super cleanly, so it gets to be a stand-alone :)
Thinking about Flambae’s niece, who inherited her uncle’s hater energy - in fact, she’s almost a carbon copy of the fiery hero, much to her mom’s dismay, right down to the same missing tooth in the middle of her mouth.
It shouldn’t be a surprise, then, that the first thing she does upon meeting Robert is bully him relentlessly.
(Spoilers for future chapters of my fic below the cutoff)
Somehow, by some set of circumstances, before Robert and Flambae were a couple, she and the dispatcher ended up in the same room together. As soon as Flambae leaves their earshot and she catches sight of how Robert’s eyes follow her uncle with a look her grandma usually reserves for her grandpa, she catches onto the secret Robert had been sure he’d hidden so well.
Not well enough to prevent an eleven-year-old menace from calling him out on it, apparently.
Any time they’re alone together, she’s poking fun at him for it, and unfortunately for Robert, she definitely inherited her uncle’s ability to mock people where it hurts, albeit with a clear distinction between actual malice and general menace.
He knows she’s not too upset about his apparently obvious feelings for her uncle, though, because with the same shit-eating smirk he’s seen on Flambae’s face a thousand times over as she says her goodbyes to the pair of them, she loudly proclaims, “bye uncle Robert!”
Update on my post-canon ‘Robert has an identity crisis’ Flambert fic: chapter 2 is about halfway done - it’s slow going but I think you guys will enjoy it :)
For your patience, here’s a little snippet of what you can look forward to in the next chapter!
Bout to flip the coin to decide the ending of Hold Me Close and I Won’t Leave. Heads, Flambert gets a happy ending. Tails, I flip another coin to see who dies (heads for Flambae, tails for Robert)
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Dispatch (Video Game)
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Flambae | Chad/Robert Robertson | Mecha Man
Characters: Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Flambae | Chad (Dispatch), Blonde Blazer | Mandy (Dispatch), Chase | Track Star (Dispatch), Invisigal | Courtney (Dispatch), Waterboy | Herman (Dispatch), Coupé | Janelle (Dispatch), Sonar | Victor (Dispatch), Prism | Alice (Dispatch), Golem | Bruno (Dispatch), Punch Up | Colm (Dispatch), Royd (Dispatch), Beef the Dog (Dispatch), Z-Team (Dispatch)
Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Possible Eventual Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, everyone is bad at feelings, Best Friends Flambae | Chad & Prism | Alice (Dispatch), Canon-typical trauma repression
Summary:
"A cenotaph is an empty grave, tomb or a monument erected in honor of a person or group of people whose remains are elsewhere or have been lost."
Robert copes with the grief of losing a man who once was himself.
--
It took me a hot minute and a few thousand more words than I expected, but here’s the first chapter of the fic I promised! Hope it’s worth the wait!
Yeah, post-canon Flambert fic incoming... eventually, because this game has consumed so much of my brain in the past few weeks. Look forward to everybody being very stupid all the time, as soon as I myself stop being stupid long enough to sit down and finish the damn fic.
A/N: Inspired by this idea from @missleamori that would not leave my head. I may write a continuation of this someday, but either way, here's Omega misusing his quintessence a little. As a treat.
Pairing: Terzo/Omega
Content: Magic sex toys, semi-public sex (if you squint), size kink
Dating Terzo for long enough meant that Omega was not a stranger to the idea of using quintessence in creative and perhaps inappropriate ways, and though the Papa would refute the second notion - the magic Satan gifts His creations with is meant to be harnessed for the cultivation of sin, he argues - it's undeniable that the present utilization of the ghoul's magic, particularly the unique ability to link objects and people, is certainly innovative, at the very least.
And even better: the idea had come from Omega himself; perhaps Terzo was rubbing off on him.
"You… want to try to link that to me?" Terzo points to the fleshlight the ghoul had sheepishly presented him with.
"If you're okay with it - I can't imagine it would be that different than linking someone to a voodoo doll, and I've done that dozens of times. You'd be able to sever the bond on your own at any time, of course, and I'd be able to hear your thoughts in case you needed to stop anyway. I-I know this is kind of out there, but-"
He shushes the quint with a finger over his lips. "Let's do it," he smirks.
"Really?"
"Si - you're right, it's definitely unorthodox, but since when has that ever stopped us? This actually sounds quite interesting, if I'm honest; I'd be able to feel anything you did to this?" He taps the plastic of the fleshlight, cocking his head.
"Theoretically, yes. Again, I've never done this before, so I can't promise it'll work, but I can certainly try."
"Try away, amore," he wraps his arms around the ghoul's neck, sighing against his neck as he feels the telltale warmth of quintessence easing its way through his body, coalescing in where Omega's free hand rests on his ass.
"Alright, we should be good to go," Omega confirms, pulling back enough to look the human in the eyes as he blinks the lingering quintesssence-violet tint from his sclera.
"…Did it work?"
"One way to find out," the ghoul chuckles, lifting the fleshlight into view of the human still wrapped around him.
"What do you- oh." Had he not been leaning against the quint, Terzo is sure he would have hit the floor from the sensation of a sudden intrusion against his hole. "Fuck, yes, it worked," Terzo breathes, glancing up at the ghoul's index finger against the fleshlight mirroring the pressure against his rim.
"I figured," he laughs. "How does it feel?"
"Weird - I know there is nothing there, but I can feel you, like you're- hah," he moans as Omega cruelly chooses that moment to push his finger just hard enough to breach the toy, the lack of resistance meaning Terzo feels none of the pain that would usually accompany such a sudden stretch, only the intoxicating fullness. "-doing that," he finishes.
"Interesting," he nods, tone as casual as if Terzo was simply telling him about his day. "Hey, weren't you telling me earlier that you had some work you needed to get done in your office today? I distinctly remember you mentioning you'd been putting off some paperwork for quite a while, yeah?"
"You bastard," Terzo grabs for the fleshlight, which Omega lifts just out of his reach. "Ah-ah-ah, it would be a shame for you to have this distracting you, so I think I'll hang onto it till you're done with your work for the day."
"So this was your scheme, eh? Was this whole idea just a ploy to make my paperwork even more miserable?"
"Remember that time you had the bright idea to try to give me a handjob during Black Mass? This," he gestures to the toy with a smirk, "is revenge. Enjoy your work, love."
—
As much of a sudden shock as the sensation has been, the anticipation of waiting for it to inevitably happen again, Terzo has discovered, is even more distracting.
The stack of papers at his desk lays entirely forgotten as he taps his pen rhythmically against the wood, glaring a hole into the wall in front of him. Despite the period of inactivity - what could have been ten minutes or four hours, as far as he's concerned - his erection hasn't flagged, and the tension of waiting for what he knows is coming has served to keep him fully distracted from the work he set out to do.
Not that he thinks Omega truly expects him to get anything done, and frankly, he doesn't expect it of himself either.
Just as his mind begins to drift to other topics, namely ways to make the ghoul pay for this stunt in the near future, the feeling of phantom fingers at his rim has him jerking up straight in his chair. He grits his teeth as the ghostly touch circles his rim, because of course Omega would tease him even now, before biting back a groan at the unmistakeable sensation of a digit pressing into him, unyielding and magically unhindered despite his lack of prep.
"Cazzo," he hisses, as the finger seems to find his prostate effortlessly, something he is sure is a product of the ghoul's own knowledge of his body, quite literally inside and out, rather than a feature of the magic. He can practically see the self-satisfied smirk on Omega's face as the digit rubs against that spot relentlessly.
The Papa bites the flesh of his arm to silence a moan, reaching his other hand below his desk to unzip his rapidly-constricting slacks, palming himself through his boxers for a moment before thinking better of it; if he comes now, the rest of his afternoon will be truly miserable as the quint continues his endeavors.
Sooner than he would have without the magical connection between them, Terzo feels Omega slip a second finger within him beside the first, wasting little time before scissoring him open. His hips rut forward of their own accord, cock dripping a bead of pre into his boxers as he bites down harder, heedless of the marks he's sure he's leaving on his arm. His lust-addled brain unhelpfully supplies him with the reminder that he doesn't need to be stretched - even Omega's considerable size wouldn't cause him any discomfort in their current situation. No, this isn't for his sake, this is simply Omega displaying a cruel streak Terzo has never seen from the gentle giant of a ghoul.
Somewhere, a masochistic part of himself hopes this is not the last he sees of it.
As suddenly as they'd entered, the digits draw back, and Terzo can't quite halt the quiet whine the emptiness seems to force from him. The empty feeling doesn't last long, though, as he feels the unmistakeable sensation of a familiar bluntness prodding at his hole, just barely pushing in before pulling away.
"Fuck, fuck," he hisses, fruitlessly trying to chase the sensation with his hips in a manner he knows would have Omega chiding him for his impatience, as if the ghoul hadn't been tormenting him for at least the better part of an hour by now. The head nudges his rim again, this time continuing forward until Terzo is panting against the desk, head resting on his arms as he just keeps going.
Somehow, without the visuals of how much is left to go, the cock he's taken probably on hundreds of occasions by now feels impossibly larger, and just as Terzo is sure he can't take anymore, it stops. Every minute movement that Terzo assumes originates from the ghoul shifting the toy in his hands seems to graze perfectly against his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure straight up his spine that have him writhing in his chair.
But the ghoul's movements don't resume. Seconds seem to turn to minutes as Terzo tries in vain to clench around the phantom length, rocking in his chair to try to find some friction that just never comes. He can feel the puddle of precum staining his boxers with every mindless roll of his hips as his cock drools a steady stream into the fabric, turning discomfort to agony as he fights to catch his breath.
With nothing else to do, the fullness showing no signs of subsiding nor granting him the stimulation he chases, he picks up his pen in an effort to distract himself from his distraction.
As if on cue, barely halfway through an absently-read paragraph on the first page he'd grabbed, the phantom length draws back again, brutally slow in a way that only Omega would have the patience for, leaving him entirely empty once again.
"Nonono," he whines, silently begging the Olde One that the ghoul will have mercy on him.
His prayers are answered in the form of Omega slamming back into him, the force of his thrust sending him crumpling against the desk, pen and papers scattering across the surface as he barely fights off a screamed moan, absentmindedly thanking Satan for gifting him the forethought to lock his office's door on the way in; even disregarding his poorly-stifled gasps and whines, the conspicuous flush he's sure has bled through his face paint and the way he squeezes his thighs together would be unmistakeable in their own right to anyone with the misfortune of seeing him in his current predicament.
A predicament which Omega seems to remain intent on perpetuating as he sets an agonizingly slow pace, lazily drawing back before slamming into him with each thrust, just enough to keep him shaking with every movement but not quite enough to be satisfying.
Oh, fuck it.
Terzo reaches for his phone, fingers finding Omega's contact through muscle memory alone and pressing the 'call' button.
"Can I help you?" The ghoul picks up almost instantly, voice frustratingly unbothered, not bothering to halt his leisurely thrusting.
"Stop teasing me," Terzo grits out, "and get in here, now."
"Calling me to your office during work hours, are we? How scandalous," he teases, smirk audible through the phone.
"Just get over here before I-" he gasps, unimpededly moaning as a particularly cruel thrust directly to his prostate has him slumping against the desk.
"Before you what? Are you really in a position to be making demands? Your threats would hold a lot more force if you weren't on the verge of cumming alone in that fancy office of yours, Papa."
He groans, half a product of frustration and half the overwhelming onslaught of stimulation. "You are the worst," he hisses.
"Oh, I am, am I? In that case, I'm sure you'd prefer that I…" the sudden pausing of the accelerated pace Terzo had finally been gifted concludes his threat for him, the ghoul's length drawing back until only the head remained inside.
"Don't you fucking dare," he commands, though it comes out far closer to a whine than he'd ever admit.
"What, is this not what you wanted? You'll have to be more specific, I'm not a mind-reader." While the nature of the very magic he currently torments his boyfriend with renders this statement technically untrue, the Papa lacks the wherewithal to call him out on it, instead responding with a frustrated groan as his hips rut forward in a desperate search for friction that never comes.
"Just get your ass over here and fuck me."
"What do you mean? I'm fucking you right now, aren't I?" For emphasis, he eases forward just enough to tease the head of his cock over Terzo's prostate.
"Fucking- fuck- just get in here. Please," he adds, barely audibly.
"Pardon? Couldn't hear that last part," Omega teases, grinding against that spot cruelly just to hear the human whimper.
After a moment, the Papa's resolve crumbles and he begs, "Please come fuck me, Omega."
Over the phone, Omega chuckles. "As you wish, my love." The call ends and Terzo lets his head drop back onto his arms as the length quickly withdraws, leaving him once again with only the agonizing anticipation of whatever the ghoul had in store for him.
Hey ghesties, as I have just finished my semester and will be dealing with an influx of free time until early January, now would be the optimal time to request a fic! This is a cry for help, please save me from the boredom and give me something to distract me from Christmas with the family
(Also the fic I posted a WIP of is coming Soon™️. Promise.)
