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 :)
i actually have a pretty detailed idea of isafrin (and sloopis) development post canon - bc i love romance but i have realized i tend to do it pretty aromantically anyway, and also bc these guys are Complicated, Man.
(also also there are a couple little differences between my aus but like, HES has so man y peculiarities im not even gonna count it. im staying pretty steadily in normal post canon)
readmore bc. this got a ittle out of my hands and it is LONG
im going the id5 route in saying these things take TIME and some pretty extensive self reflection, because theres no way a straight post time loops relationship is going to work healthily but also. Siffrin does take a little time to figure it out bc hes so fucking confused.
I am hitting him with both the aromantic spectrum beam and the "wasn't socialized a lot as a child/youg teenager (in this case bc they remember fuck all about their socialization) and that combined with some kinda neurodivergence made them utterly incapable of naming their own emotion" beam.
So like, yeah they love Isabeau, but what the fuck is romantic love. What does it even mean??????? will he be expected to do something?? sex is kinda weird and gross, but people say its better when its someone you love, and they thougt Vulnerability was weird and gross and look where That got them. So he doesnt say anything about it ever.
Look, theyve been so so good at saying shit out loud post canon, surely they can have one repression as a treat.
So we're directly post canon, in the month/month and a half it takes them to get to bambouche with siffrins newfound chronic issues that he absolutely Would have after channelling a god level amount of craft for weeks at minimum. (i suspect travel is faster post curse but theyre still crossing p much the entire country, a post disaster zone, with nothing but medieval level technology. it takes a lil, horses or not)
Siffrin, between all of the other problems, feels so fucking guilty that hes not anwering isabeau, so he just goes and says no. Is he sure that he doesn't want to date isabeau? Fuck no. Does he know that a rejection might hurt him? Yeah, which is why it takes them almost a month to say it. But they reckon the pain of a rejection is better than the suffering Isa would endure having to keep them (a wretched, insatiable, horrible thing) around forever.
But Isa is not stupid and also outregiously down bad, so hes like Okay!!! I will proceed not to actually move on and stay quietly in love wih you forever if you dont mind!!!!!!!
He wasnt lying, in the sense that he really doesnt mind keeping their relationship platonic and he loves them a lot anyway, and they Do have a shitton of other problems to focus on, so theres no real disappointment. But the feelings Continue to Fester and he doesnt Really move on from his crush on them, he just accepts its gonna stay an him thing.
Then, the travel!! Id imagine the All together travel would keep up for, uhhh, sixish months?? Vaugardian schools tend to close during rainy season bc thats when its the most annoying to get to school, and since they save the country right when its starting to get a little chillier, they have a couple months of freedom b$ Petronille drags bonnie back to Bambouche.
Bonnie goes, isa goes afterwards to make sure he Has a House and to build himself up for a job, then mira to continue her pilgrimage in a more personal and private way. They all leave postal adresses and make the others Promise theyll write regularly, and to send in the letters an approximate travel plan so they may respond. Siffrin has a couple mental breakdowns about it but at this point its been like, eight to ten months of feelings talky talks and feeling buddies sessions and all that, and he still has Odile to ground him, so hes not in active suicide risk like he mightve been at the start.
They keep traveling with Odile, seeing Kabue and having a grand ol time on the other side of the world (Im imagining some pretty decent sea travel, so vaugard kabue would take smth like six months? idk, i need to draw myself a globe at some point. they also take it pretty slow because they dont Really have anything else to do) but the thought is. still there.
Isa is always so sweet in his letters, and he is cute, objectively, like mira and small dogs are cute, and he does give pretty wonderful hugs, and hes so attentice and smart. But they still have no idea what love Is.
So there come a bunch of very awkard, unsubtle questions to mira (by letter) and odile (in person) just to undesrtand things. Because, also, isa kind of??? asked him to come live nearby when he returns to vaugarde?????? and its not like siffrin wants to say no, isa is his family! their friend who they love! but it does come with Implications of. things they have to think about.
(piece of this that i think will be a comic eventually) where Siffrin deseprately asks odile what the fuck love is and she, heavily autistic with a very "love is a list of things you do" ideology, just kinds of. lists things to him. Well, you're in love when you kiss someone, and you want to have a life with them, and you care for them very deeply.
And siffrin has to be like, what the fuck, i care very deeply for all of you!
And the kissing, well. THe kissing is kinda weird? Theyve never wanted to try it much, and the ccouple times theyve done it was kind of overwhelming but not much else. Good, because touch, better than the sex in terms of grossenss, but nothing to write home about.
Odile goes well, kissing is different when its someone you love romantically. Surely you wouldnt want to kiss me, right? So if theres any desire to kiss isabeau, you have your answer.
But siffrins like. Actually. If you wanted to kiss me? Id give it a go???
And then they kiss a bit platonic style. Odile doesnt actually have romantic feelings for siffrin (i personally think they would have chemistry if they were interested, but odile is not interested in romance at this point of her life, and siffrin is kind of attractive to her but to adorable to consider seriously) but shes never above kissing the homies, and siffrin will do enarly anything that gts him an ounce of affection.
This does not actually help him realize anything romance wise, but it does get him to a conclusion.
He doesnt mind at all. Yeah, feelings are super confusing and hell never be sure sure that it's romantic, but he does love isa, and they like hugging him and being close and spending time with him. They have similiar tastes, a shared sense of humor, companionship and friendship. If all there is to a romantic relationship is a couple different kinds of touch, what the hell, they want to try.
Siffrin returns to Vaugarde alone, a couple months shy of Odile (she actually returns to Vaugarde, too, because having reorganized her father's things and put in a notice at her job, she doesnt really have any ties to her homeland. The year theyve spent there cured her homesickness a bunch, and she prefers to be somewhat close to this weird little family shes found for herself; nothing stops her from travelling again if she feels like it, and the new inventions to come, like craft trains and faster boats will only make this easier.)
A bunch of things happen to siffrin, actually, including meeting and almost joining a merry band who changes names for every stage, befriending a couple people, remembering and then forgetting a lot of things about the island, etcetera etcetera, but this post was isafrin focused and its already long enough.
When he's almost to juvente, he meets isa on the road. Turns out, jouvente isnt as good to live in when you kind of hate all of your old friends and your parents and many siblings are costantly harrassing you. So, as he wrote in a letter that didnt reach siffrin before they left kabue, hes moving to another city, closer to the center east of vaguard, that well call Carsien.
And, uh. Did. Did isa always have glasses? And fancy flowing shirts that show off more of his muscles than the defender uniform ever did. Siffrin isnt into that kinda life, but even he can recognize when a guy is very objectively attractive. Aesthetically pretty. What a man.
They have a very cute reunion, talk the whole day sharing little stories and adventures that didnt make it into their many, many letters, and they end up on the couch at Isas new house. Its pretty big, thanks to the saviours money, with three bedrooms in case anyone wants to visit, and a very big first room downstairs that could become a boutique with time.
Theyre both dancing around each other, skirting over the things they want to say as theyre wont to do. Siffrin went through a lot, in these two years, two years and a half. They've gotten slightly better, they've gotten a lot, a lot worse, and then they ever so slowly got better again - disregarding minior setbacks, theyve been on those getting better tracks pretty regularly for the last few months. But hes still a siffrins, and siffrins dont have the power to say what they mean out loud.
Eventually, they get it out. They tell him, they dont know if what they feel is romantic love, but they want a relationship. They want to feel close to him and to make him happy, even if they want to be happy in slightly different ways.
Isa is overjoyed, of course. He doesnt mind adjusting to non typical relationship, hes a very open guy! So, what kind of differences are on the table here - do they, uhhh, dont want to call it a romantic relationship? Like avoiding "my boyfriend/my partner kind of thing"?
Siffrin combusts immidiately at the idea of someone in his family calling him "my" anything, and thats a pretty clear no.
So, what, do you not want me to get too touchy? Nope, they want alll the touch they can get.
No petnames? (Siffrin doesnt answer, but his face gets way darker at the thought.) No kisses? (they dont mind, actually, it feels kind of nice.) No dates? (those are pretty much just the normal hangouts they already do).
And at one point isas just like. Sif. Siffaroonie. That kìjust kind of sounds like a romantic relationship. Like, in the most explicit common definition of a romantic relationship, even. Are you sure you're not uncomfortable with any of this.
And they!! aren't!!!!! but it still feels weird!!!!!!! these things dont feel romantic to them. These are friends things! Very normal friend things! that he doesnt mind doing, because he loves isabeau a lot, and they make them both happy. Whats romantic about that!!!!!!!
They eventually just let it go. The exact definition of romance doesn't really count when this kind of relationship is good for both of them, and they just, give it a try. Siffrin will spend exactly two months in the apartment he bought for themself on the other side of the city, before moving kind of permanently at isa's.
(a couple years in the future, mira will be perfectly happy to rebuy that same apartment for herself. Shes close as ever to her best friends, but she also has that independence shes gained with her newfound confidence. She can love and be loved without it being romantic, still having her space and her life, and its the best thing in her life)
Adding loop would just open a whole other kind of worms this post is too big to even consider. But eah - isafrin takes a couple years AT LEAST to get together, and their relationship will always be a little asymmetrical. To me its aromantically flavored, but siffrin Is still willingly to do explicitly romantic things and reach normally romantic couple goals (living together, getting bonded, having a child - and one day ill talk about you more specifically, étoile andromeda pierre moineau) that mira is canonically very uncomfortable with, even if they dont really understand whats the difference between that and very strong friends.
warnings: swearing, light injuries, tiny bit of nsfw, makeout sesh
•••
summary: jackal needs more practice perfecting his appearance, and the organization pilot happy to provide assistance.
notes: LOL I STARTED WRITING AGAIN VINE BOOM
•••
your knees wobbled from the lack of movement as you stood from the foam pad on the pavement floor, wiping your forehead and leaving a thin streak of grime onto your skin. rainbow should invest more into their vehicle care than their damn firing range, you thought. what good is aim if you can’t take it anywhere? bias aside, your error report was due to the director and you felt your joints cry out as you took slow steps back into the facility.
the universe had oddly comedic timing, making you climb up three flights of stairs to get to the drop-off destination. your eyes traced the fine stripe running alongside the wall, catching each door label and looking for the right one.
having been employed there for a large part of your working age, the door placements were almost muscle memory. marius’s mechanics office was fourth door down the south wing. you’d been there a million times, and when you swore you hit the fourth door, you knocked once and looped your arm around the knob, swinging open the door.
“marius, i have the--”
“carajo!”
a whisper-yell violated your ears and you stumbled, spilling the documents across the floor. the lone wolf jackal was sitting at his desk, chip up toward the ceiling and a large weathered hand concealing his neck. quite literally being the last man you hoped to meet in your condition, your temperature flared up and you could feel your underarms dampening.
the spaniard's hair was slicked back with curly flyaways, water dripping down his thick neck. his facial hair seemed to be taking over his face, though not too unkempt. you always considered him a perfect specimen, from his stone-cold perspective on extractions to the way he'd rest against a wall during a business celebration. "perfect," in your mind, did not mean flawless. he's slipped up, missed meetings, sometimes even forgotten his helmet for a mission. he was your hot, imaginary disaster of a boyfriend. in your daydreams, at least.
to those besides yourself, to call specialist jackal a disaster would be a practical understatement. sure, you’d catch his passing glance in the transport helicopter or watch his back muscles flex as he shrugged on his vest, but that doesn’t mean his interior was stable.
ramírez was a man past his prime, yet not weathered to the extent of being “too old.” your trusted co-pilot, jäger, called him your salt and pepper crush (for unclear reasons to you) to the point of you threatening to send the copter straight into the ocean.
"ramírez," your voice cracked. "sorry for the interruption. it seems i entered the wrong door. have a good day."
"i- no- wait-" he huffed, lifting his hand from his neck. he glanced in the mirror which caused his eyes to widen. ramírez reached out to you, quickly yet tenderly taking hold of your forearm. "could you... help. really quick. please."
it seemed like a cruel setup to an evil prank. you were too old for games, but you could name a few other operators that would seem up for such a thing. he continued.
"could you get me some gauze, l/n? a cotton ball. something. anything, por favor."
"are you okay?"
"yes. i cut my neck shaving," he looked up to your panicked expression. "just a little nick, don't worry."
you scurried toward one of the many first aid kits nailed to the wall. you flipped it open, fumbling for some sort of bandage. you paused, gripping it in your palm.
now's your chance, mein frund, you could hear jäger in your head. you nodded to yourself and reentered his room. jackal had not moved from his position but was now standing an inch from his mirror.
"gracias," he thanked, reaching out to grab the gauze from your hand. your quick thinking caused you to pull back.
"let me help," you said, with a light smirk. it had been some time since you last had the chance to flirt, with work and all clouding your mind since you got out of college. "i can see it better. sit."
he sat down, legs wide. you shuffled between his left leg, practically sitting on it. he readjusted in his seat. without even thinking twice, you held his chin and turned it upward.
"i can't reach it, it's like.. right under your jaw-" you mumbled mostly to yourself. you watched his jaw clenched and eyes glue to the ceiling and said nothing about it. it's working. "where is it?"
"here," jackal whispered back, placing his hand over yours and moving your hand to his pulse. you began to wipe at the blood, yet it never seemed to stop. fighting the frustration, you furrowed your brow and continued cleaning his neck, when suddenly, you heard a low groaning noise.
"quit your squirming," you instructed, holding him down with more authority. he continued to breathe through his teeth, and you felt his body heat radiating despite the gap. you began to get worried.
"is this okay?" you asked, referring to the cut. his breathing became heavier and body stiffer.
"yes... hhh—stay like that."
you raised an eyebrow, checking your surroundings. during your frustrations, you seemed to have taken a seat on his lap, with your hand applying gentle pressure on the sides of his neck. you soon realized he was not talking about the blood.
"me encanta esto." it was almost inaudible, said barely above a whisper, but you heard it.
for a moment, time stopped. you pulled your gauze-hand back, and truly seizing this glorious opportunity, placed it on his chest. it was just as amazing as you pictured it felt. was this actually happening right now? is he just really into this, or is he so uncomfortable he can't even speak?
he lowered his chin, meeting your eyes once before glancing down at your lips. you couldn't help but admire his long, dark eyelashes. his lips parted.
"can i kiss you...?" ramírez asked, fixated on your mouth. you nodded, slowly.
as if waiting a million years, his instincts took over as he grabbed the back of your neck and waist, pulling you in and smashing your lips together. you kissed back feverishly, holding the sides of his face and starting to slowly grind against his thigh. he tasted like minty rain and you loved every bit of it. after nearly a minute straight, you pulled away, taking a deep catching breath. you were so caught up against his lips you didn't notice the small trail of blood soaking into his shirt collar.
"ramírez—" you began, but he kissed you once more, just as deeply but as quick as a peck.
"thank you for the help," he replied in a low rumble. "i think i've got it from here."
you jumped up, remembering the report. you started to apologize before he grabbed your hand, squeezing it once.
"i'll be here. don't worry, i'll wait for you."
you nodded, closing his door behind you. it felt like high school prom! you cheered to yourself, throwing punches and kicking the air. who knew it was that easy?!
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.
A/N: Holy shit, Plague can write fluff? Stop the presses! Yeah, this one came out a lot softer than I expected, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless, even if no one was sobbing by the end, which seems to be my MO at this point.
It's certainly not uncommon that you wake up like this, but the novelty has yet to wear off.
As you drift into consciousness, the first sensation you're aware of is the sound of breathy, quiet whimpers and the tickle of warm breath against your ear. The next is a very familiar rutting against your ass, and a noticeable wetness against your pajamas informing you that the source of your awakening has been at this for a while.
You place your hand over his where it rests on your hip, turning to face him as his movements still.
"Good morning, love," you hum, not bothering to suppress the fond smile you're sure is plastered across your face as you take in the sight of your boyfriend, curled hair sweat-drenched and sticking to his face, the blush across his unpainted cheeks reaching down to his chest where it's still pressed against yours.
"G'morning, fuck, sorry for waking you up, honey," he rasps.
"It's alright, you did a good job keeping quiet for me, don't let me stop you," you praise, slotting your thigh between his.
He whimpers, hips stuttering back to their previous pace, sweat and pre slicking your thigh with every slow drag.
"So worked up already, Pet, had you been doing this for long?" You tease, already knowing the answer.
"Couldn't help it, y'look so cute when you sleep, I just- oh Satan," he gasps as you press your thigh just hard enough to shift the friction he'd been seeking from not quite enough to almost too much.
"Aww, it's alright - we've talked about this, you know I'm always alright with you taking what you need like this," you give him a gentle peck on the lips, smiling at the shiver your affection earns you.
"I know, jus' wanted to let you sleep in," he gasps, the pace of his hips growing more erratic.
"Always so thoughtful," you praise, "my darling lover."
"Fuuuck," he groans. "Say it again."
"Say what? You want me to tell you how thoughtful you are? How well you take care of me? How gorgeous you look, rutting against my thigh just to be good for me?"
He keens at the praise, pressing his forehead to your shoulder and gripping your hips tighter. "Sweetheart, please," he begs.
"You want me to tell you how much I love you? Because I do," you continue. "I love everything about you - I love how attentive you are, I love how hard you work for me and for the Ministry, I love your voice when you're serenading your fans almost as much as I love it when you're falling apart for me, and I love getting to see your beautiful face every morning when I wake up - especially like this. I love you, Pet."
"Shitshitshit, I can't- I'm gonna-"
"Gonna come for me?"
He nods shakily, his pace slowing as he looks up at you through hooded, tearful eyes. "Please, love."
"How could I say no to a face like that?" You chuckle. "Go on - be a good boy and come for me."
His hips stutter through a thrust once, twice, and then he's spilling across your thigh and onto your shirt with a whine.
As he catches his breath against your shoulder, you run a hand through his sweaty hair. "Hell of a way to start the morning," you tease.
"Could you be convinced to go back to sleep?" He smiles up at you with a yawn, snuggling a little closer, heedless of the mess between you. "I think we've earned some extra shut-eye."
"I'm inclined to agree," you laugh. "I still want to sleep in."
It's not uncommon that your mornings go something like this, but you'd be perfectly content to wake up this way for the rest of your life if you had the choice - and the sleepy smile of the man wrapped around you suggests you're not the only one.
--
Tag list: @queer-fictions @assmaster37 (Drop an ask or a comment to be added or removed!)
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!”
Diving into the Deltarune community by borrowing @teethmongerrr ‘s human AU where Tenna’s a washed-up 80’s TV host and Mettaton’s an up-and-coming variety show host.
Only God can judge me and his sins outnumber my own.
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