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dinosaurtsukki · 3 years

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dating the port mafia’s medic

a/n: basically headcanons of port mafia members dating one of the organization’s medics who happen to be you. i just thought this would be cute and i’m craving fluff. also these are,,, really long.

feat. akutagawa, chuuya, and odasaku

akutagawa ryuunosuke:

you were the doctor that mori specifically assigned to him to help with his lung condition

even though akutagawa was supposed to have regular, weekly sessions he’d only come in like,, twice a month and that was after you texted mori that he hasn’t been visiting you

akutagawa isn’t all too comfortable with the fact that he has to take off his shirt so that you could put him in an x-ray gown or when you need to listen to his breathing with a stethoscope

but you’re incredibly patient with him and also the pay is good so you persist

at one point during one of your sessions, akutagawa grumbles about having to come to the clinic when he just wants to live long enough to make dazai proud

and you’re like ‘is that so?’

“personally, i’d feel kind of sad if you had to die so early”

that kind of gets akutagawa thinking. he can tell by the way you said it that you had no ulterior motives behind it

akutagawa: but,,, i'm your most troublesome patient

you: oh my god you think you're troublesome ??

you start to rant abt all the patients you had to treat before who didn't believe in vaccines or got their elbows stuck in weird places

akutagawa finds your stories really entertaining so he ends up enjoying and willingly going to his sessions with you

after that first fight with atsushi, you ended up taking care of akutagawa and patching up his body

literal days of you just being at his bedside, worrying and hoping that he'll wake up and then you suddenly realize that maybe you have feelings for him

when akutagawa regains consciousness, he finds that he doesn't entirely hate the situation he's in because he gets to see you more often

he likes listening to more of your stories while you sit at his bedside. eventually he opens up with stories of his own (most of them are abt his missions so yeah)

akutagawa begins visiting your clinic more and one day he comes in even though he doesn't have a session and then agonizes over why the heck he did that

good guy senpai chuuya is basically all 'idk are you in love or something?'

to akutagawa it's utterly unacceptable and he hides his feelings for so long until you're the one who decides to confess to him

and to your surprise, he hesitantly asks if maybe you two would like to be in a relationship

you two are awkward about it at first. akutagawa doesn't really know if drinking tea at your clinic could be considered a 'date' but he does like these moments

both of you have pretty hectic schedules since m your patients are also mafia members and you have to be on-call all the time but akutagawa is really understanding

he likes seeing you in casual clothes but he also thinks you look good in a labcoat (he probably borrowed it when you were not looking to try it on)

because akutagawa has grown quite accustomed to your touch and initiates holding hands with you (in private ofc)

he's still not used to the idea of you taking care of him not just as a doctor but as his s/o but it makes a nice change for once

chuuya nakahara:

the first time he met you was after a mission when he was taking one of his subordinates to the emergency room of the infirmary

you were the doctor on-duty that night and the first time chuuya laid his eyes on you he was like 'damn'

who knew the mafia doctors were this hot amirite

ofc you were also kind of starstruck to see mafia executive chuuya nakahara in the emergency room but you had a job to do and a man was losing blood

you: what's his type?

chuuya: uh,, h/c hair, beautiful eyes, labcoat...

you: i mean... his blood type

chuuya's got it bad. after that night he couldn't stop thinking about that cute medic aka you

but he didn't even know what your shifts were so he LOOKS FOR YOUR CASE FILE IN THE RECORDS

it's like he's gonna commit a murder or something but no he's looking for information on you

the guy’s pretty impressed when he looks at your resume and definitely sees why you were hired to be a doctor at the mafia but that only makes him want to see you more

but questions is, how does he make it look like he was just ‘passing by the infirmary’ and not that he’s actively looking for you

tsundere boy is tsundere

because chuuya almost NEVER gets injured in fights and he’s got a reputation for that and now does he get himself injured on purpose just to see you?

well, the opportunity presents itself in the form of him and dazai fighting cthulhu aka lovecraft but we all know its cthulhu

chuuya wakes up on a hospital bed to you checking in on him and he almost falls off the bed in shock

but then after he gets his bearings he realizes what an IDEAL SITUATION THIS IS

although it’s kind of hard to flirt with someone when you’re in a hospital gown with an IV infusion stuck to his arm

nonetheless, he finally decides to ask you out after his last day of treatment and you’re shocked of course but agree

although your first date ends up being rain-checked because a patient comes in a new mission for chuuya comes up

actually almost all your dates get rain-checked until after a mission, chuuya decides to visit your clinic with a bouquet of flowers just when you get off your shift

chuuya: are... you free?

you: yeah. are... you free?

both of you are too tired for a fancy restaurant date so you two end up at a cozy bar to share a drink

chuuya loves listening to your stories and talking to you. he literally has his chin on his hands listening to how you made a makeshift tourniquet out of your labcoat while you were on the field

both of you are really busy people but chuuya likes to stop by your clinic once in a while

you always have fresh flowers on your table because chuuya brings them for you

sometimes he’ll come home to you already tired and passed out

oda sakunosuke:

the first time he met you was after a particularly rough mission and you were luckily there at the emergency room to treat him

this guy had a concussion and needed stitches asap but instead he was asking you to treat his companions first

you quickly treated him and let him rest and of course the first thing he asks when he wakes up is how everyone else is doing

your intrigued of course because you’ve never met a mafia member who was like him

the second time you met him, odasaku actually brought someone from the enemy faction along because he didn’t think that leaving him to die was the right choice

he didn’t know if you would treat them because you were loyal to the mafia but you also had your own moral code as a doctor to treat patients no matter who they were

odasaku stuck around the emergency room knowing that it was going to take you hours to treat the man and when you come out, you’re surprised to see him there with a cup of coffee

the two of you end up sitting in the hallway and talking about all sorts of things. you love listening to how odasaku stopped killing so that he can fulfill his dream of being a writer

he on the other hand loves hearing about how you went through the hell that was med school because you were dedicated to saving lives

maybe odasaku doesn’t mind getting injured so much because that means he gets to see you but also you can’t help but feel worried about him

one time, one of the odasaku’s adopted kids gets really sick and the first person he ends up calling is you because he has no idea what to do

to his relief, you show up right at the curry restaurant and are very much ready to help

odasaku admires how good you are with kids. even though they just met you, they’ve already taken a liking to your calm, sweet presence

you even pull out your stethoscope and let them take turns listening to each other’s heartbeats

until a kid walks up to oda to check his heartbeat and is like ‘uh,,, your heart is beating really fast’

cue all the kids singing “ODA LOVES Y/N, ODA LOVES Y/N”

you look up at oda and he doesn’t look away and now you know

after that day, oda asks if you would like to maybe have a drink with him or visit a cafe and you say that you would love to

odasaku loves to drop by your clinic because he’s such a caring boyfriend and he knows how stressed you are from your work

he even comes by in the morning to bring you your coffee and he memorizes your order

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @atsumu-brainrot @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo @guardianangelswings @ah-kaashi

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inkdemonapologist · 3 years

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Tfw it’s like 6am and your penpal shows up at your hotel room but he’s like partially a demon and also won’t stop smiling????

Hi again Allison we’re all Very Normal

[BatIM Call of Cthulhu Masterpost]

ANYWAY HAVE SOME, OUT-OF-CONTEXT QUOTES for Session 6!!

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[GM] You said you were there for... inSPECTION?? [Jack] In hindsight, that must've been a HECK of a Fast Talk considering half the group is in pyjamas.

[Henry] It wouldn't be the first time someone tried to sacrifice Henry.

[GM] *about Sammy's sacrifice attempts* He was very polite about it. [Sammy] Yeah, he was! [Henry] He was very polite, he gets points for politeness. [GM] And then he got yelled at, so unfairly! By someone. [Sammy] And then melted! So everyone was on the whole very rude about it. It's your own fault he's like this now.

[GM] We'll say it's ajar, how about that? [Joey] Oh, I thought it was a door.

[Sammy] You can spend Luck!! [Jack] Do I want to use Luck points, though? Here's the problem, I'm the person who finishes the JRPG with twelve thousand healing items, and has used TWO. [Sammy] Here's my counterargument: if your Luck gets really low, you start failing Luck checks, and bad things happen to your character. [Jack] ...that's a perfect counterargument, I'm going to do it.

[GM] You both spot the hat with the press card! Lying on the floor, over by one corner of the sliding doors. [Jack] Oh that's BETTER than taking sanity damage! [Sammy] EMOTIONAL DAMAGE!

[Joey] There's another jug of space juice. [Sammy] I don't want space juice!! I WANT PAINT.

[Henry] *tired* Hey, Sam. [Sammy] What providence, my little sheep! [Henry] ...Good to see you too.

[Sammy] Go into the other room and introduce yourself! [Joey] With two hats on. [Sammy] ASSERT DOMINANCE!

[Jack] Jack is going to take the hat. He's going to have, uh, at least one emotion. [Jack] Maybe more [Jack] Imagine

[Joey] Joey is immediately going to clamp his hand onto Sammy's shoulder, and ask him if he can feel it. [Sammy] UHHH? His... hand...? [Joey] Not-- No, the stone. [Sammy] OH

[Jack] Jack, how are you going to communicate this if one of your hands is taken up by a hat? [Joey] Interpretative dance! [Sammy] Put hat in elbow while writing, you can juggle stuff, [Henry] Put the hat on. Over your other hat.

[Sammy] Sammy will scurry with or without the sheep, but they are his navigation system, so,

[Joey] That is a place we are known to be by the people who tried to... murder us?? Or something. Snake us??????? [Jack] (Snurder.) [Joey] Snurder us.

[Henry] We're just gonna grab our stuff and head out and... let you finish dealing with the sNAKE, I guess!! [Jack] (the snake has already been dealt with!) [Henry] Okay, but the aftermath of the snake! The snaftermath.

[Sammy] In case we get grabbed by an Angel [Sammy] the much less well-liked sequel to Touched by an Angel,

[Sammy] You traitorous sheep, this is not what I asked you for! [Joey] Do you want to die. Is that what you’re interested in?! Just, sacrificing yourself, without doing the proper rituals, not getting anything done--?! [Sammy] What do you know of proper rituals?! [GM] (....quite a lot, actually,) [Joey] Yeah! Much more than you do! And I will make an intimidation roll! [Jack] Boys,... you’re both pretty,... it’s okay....

[Joey] We’re pretty sure there’s Angels.... does she know how to kill them. [Jack] What a first thing to—! No pleasantries, no “please excuse the fact that I’m grinning and have weird eyes and also Sammy has weird eyes and also I have a tail,”

[GM, speaking for Allison] She would like to know what all this is about! [Joey] We’re having problems— [Sammy] He tried to contain something that should not be contained!! [Joey] Shut up, Sammy! We’re having problems!

[Joey] Joey is just going to quickly explain that he.................... [Joey] *mumbling to himself* how do you explain this???

[Joey] Um... I guess he’s going to mentally ping Bendy and ask him how he would describe himself? Like... what was his job, I guess?? Security??? [GM] Bendy says that he’s an eldritch construct that was defending a cult... and now he is something else! That he doesn’t have a word for. [Jack] !! He’s a FRIEND now!!! [GM] He’s friend-shaped! But not at the moment. [Joey] No, right now he’s Joey-shaped.

[Sammy] I mean the whole body is garbage but you apparently want Sammy to wear clothes, so whatever.

[GM] Allison adds that she thinks she might have a connection to get you guys in to the party, if you need that -- [Joey] Wouldn't hurt! [GM] -- so long as you don't mind pretending to be the help! [Joey] ...hm,,,

[Joey] Admittedly, having two angles would be better than one. [GM] Two angels, what? [Sammy] There's an "I can be your angle or yuor devil" joke somewhere in this campaign...

[Sammy] Well, we've learned how to bind an angel, [Jack] Gotta teach the angel proper binding techniques!

[Sammy] Sammy will thank Allison for her help. [Joey] Oh god, there IS something wrong with him!

[Joey] Let's go get Norman tied up in this more! So we can hire him later!!

[Sammy] Jack over there like "I hope it doesn't taste bad" meanwhile Sammy's been grimacing as he swallows paint for the last two hours, [GM] Ink is much better, didn't you know! [Sammy] Ink is better... this tastes wrong... [Joey] I just really love the idea of Sammy longingly looking at Joey's flask like, "aw, you have the good medicine, mine tastes like the terrible cherry crap!"

[GM] So you all have shots with Allison! Space juice shots. [Jack] What a way to start the morning!

[Jack] These boys are gonna heckin' pass out! [GM] They got, what, maybe 3 hours of sleep? [Jack] And all of Jack's sleep last night was sat upright in bed, with his glasses on, surrounded by notes, [Henry] sounds like college [Jack] You're exactly right, Jack's sleep was exactly like college! He was stressed, he didn't sleep for very long, he was surrounded by notes, Pete was there,

[Joey] *saying farewell to Allison* Keep yourself safe; don't go out where we're going. [Joey] Unless we don't return, then pLEASE COME OUT AND FIND US,

[GM] Norman says, "Oh, I see you're back with your friends, Smiley." [Jack] I love the concept of Norman calling Sammy "Smiley," and then Prophet Sammy, in response to this, smiles, and Norman has no idea if this is like, weird? or some kind of strange power move to assert dominance.

[GM, as Norman] When I said I saw things happening on the 2nd, you're the one that went pale! [Joey] How's Prophet Sammy's cONCEPT OF TIME, [Sammy] Not great!!!! [Sammy] I don't think he... knows when the 2nd was.

[Sammy] Forgive my memory. That doesn’t ring a bell! [Joey] He's... a little affected right now. [Norman] ...you don't say...

[Joey] Listen. I have $75 here for you, to take us out to the lake, as soon as possible. [a couple minutes of googling later] [Jack] That's equivalent to $1,464. Joey. [Sammy] CAN YOU IMAGINE?? "We need you to take us to the lake please" "Alright, but explain to me what's going on?" "SORRY, the guy who said that is clearly HIGH OUT OF HIS MIND, here's A THOUSAND DOLLARS, take us to the lake please!" [Jack] its a trip to the lake, what could it cost, $75 [Joey] *laughing* I should've looked up how much money I was saying before I was saying it, [Sammy] No, no, I think this is accurate to JOEY DREW

[Henry] Henry is just watching everything happening... [Sammy] Henry is waiting for the next video game breadcrumb trail to show up. [Henry] YEAH, [Jack] “Oh! Looks like I need to put three gears in this thing!”

[Sammy] I'm so angry on Sammy's behalf that you've made him meet two different people like this.

[Joey] If he does ask for money later, Joey's going to give it to him, because he has no concept of.... money.... [Sammy] No concept of GIVING OUT ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS [Jack] Can Joey Drew meet me, in real life, please? [Joey] I don't know if you want that to happen,, that might be more of a curse,,, [Jack] I'll take a curse! Gimme money! [Sammy] vOICE OF EVERY JDS EMPLOYEE

[GM] And you've got suits, and dress shoes...... [Sammy] We are not dressed for this. [Sammy] ...We are more dressed for it than we were earlier. I promise you, Norman, this is a step up, believe it or not.

[Sammy] Probably making a face because it tastes bad. [Henry] Tastes like paint! [GM] The cab driver might just wonder if that's a new drink this year. [Sammy] If nobody jumped on top of Sammy to stop him from using his mouth, he would probably say something with vibes of "this is beyond your comprehension" [Joey] Joey might try to stop that, and instead just be like, “Yes. It is.” [Henry] He's high. Don't worry about it. [Jack] Driver's just like "oh, I should try some of that when I get off work, seems like a good time!" [Sammy] You should! It'll open your eyes! [Sammy] (I'll stop evangelising the cab driver now.)

[Henry] Henry is: Sims Tense Moodlet.

[Joey] Joey instantly does not like this, and it is apparent on his face, if Sammy can see it in the mist. [Sammy] Probably not! [Jack] You could say he mist it!

[Henry] We need to hurry—! [Sammy] *screaming* THATS WHAT IVE BEEN SAYING!!!!!!

[Sammy] Sammy will be, sort of... whispering reassurance? I don't know how reassuring it actually is, [Henry] I'm sorry Sam, nothing about you is reassuring right now. [Sammy] Just kind of like, hush hush, come my sheep, that sort of thing, [Joey] Prophet ASMR Channel! [Jack] I'm sure Jack would appreciate this actually, it's a shame he's not the one getting this, [Joey] No, he's getting whatever comfort Joey can offer, which, uh, [Sammy] Well, and I will say, he's not like, whispering it in Henry's ear, like-- [Jack] I don't think Sammy in any form is capable of whispering. [Sammy] ...y'know [Sammy] that's fair

[Sammy] Well everyone's doing alright! We're doing great, it's going great! [Jack] Nooooo! No going great! I want more insanities! [Jack] ...I can stop at any time, I swear.

[Sammy] We can hold Norman's hand if you want, like, that's up to you. [Joey] Roll for gay, Norman! [Henry] Take him to dinner first,

[Sammy] This is such a bad idea that we're having.

[Joey] Joey is probably at this point holding onto someone else to guide him, and more in his head than not. [Sammy] Sammy's out of hands at this point, Joey, so you'll just have to figure this out. [Sammy] Got his hands full of sheep.

[Joey] Did Norman drink the juice. [GM] Did he...? Did he...... I think he was convinced enough by “this drink will save your life” that he does take a drink! [Joey] I'll roll intimidation if that helps! [GM] Yeah, you can roll to see how quickly he does it, or if he drinks enough of it. [Joey] *rolls* That's an EXTREME SUCCESS. [GM] Well, there we go; there's a preview, Norman, of your work environment!

#call of cthulu: haunted hijinx #joey drew #when in doubt just keep drawing #jack henry sammy and allison are here too #i just love the permasmile so much

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boitoynamedtroy · 2 years

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A few weeks have gone by with things progressively getting more stable, and suddenly Gram was overcharged with his...trolly abilities. Locking himself in his room put Troy in a state of worry and annoyance. The old man can’t just hide away from his problems, whatever they were. He could see black and purple shine and leak through the door but it wouldn’t last long, not enough to research or ask about. All Gram would ask is Troy keep distant and stay away from the room entirely.

Troy wasn’t going to leave him ALONE, though. The guy was having trouble and being alone was the last thing he needed...right? On the third? Third day of being stuck in his room, Gram was visited once again by Troy, who seemed more adamant about getting him out of that room. It wasn’t that BAD, and if it was, he surely needed a friend to help him through it. A touch, some physical contact to cling to.

Leaning on the doorknob wasn’t the smartest move, and while it didn’t open the door, his elbow slipping off the knob sent his head nearly through the door itself-- had the material been of normal, meek human standards. Dazed on the floor from his display of stupidity, the thud concerned Gram enough to open the door to check on Troy when he gained no response from him. There was nothing to worry about, Gram looked f- - What were those purple and black orbs floating around him so vividly and why were is eyes glowing so bright? Was he making those bubble-like orbs by sheer will- No, this wasn’t intentional. The purple and black seemed to drip from his eyes and nose from the exertion of it all-

One of the floating orbs catches his eye and he sees...nothing? Wait, he sees...Something he can’t- It’s...indescribable. Troy can’t look away, eyes trained on this one orb, glowing so brightly yet so faded. He feels his consciousness pulled right into it and it causes his heart to stop for a second. He can’t breathe! HE CAN’T-

He looks around, no longer seeing Gram, alone in some vast void of...Is this space? It’s so loud, yet so quiet. This was what was inside the orb. Oh God, did he get sucked into it like Jumanji? Now his heart was skipping several beats but also pounding. Space??

The void is suddenly filled with screams of an unknown language-- in fact, all of his senses are suddenly attacked, he smells ashes, but also sugar? He sees entities of incomprehensible horrors. The smells go from ashes and sugar to blood and something akin to rotten fruit. He tastes sour fruit for brief moments at a time. He feels...scared! HOW ELSE IS HE GOING TO FEEL IN THIS NEW PLACE-- Troy looks around himself and down, a new fear taking over. He was floating in absolute void. This sets in panic and the voices grow louder, the screams desperate and pleading. Were the entities getting closer?

As Troy’s view of the creatures gets clearer, his fear only increases. So many eyes, tentacles, b-...bEAKS? What was this? Cthulhu?? There were so many- but this one was the biggest and it was coming right for him, it’s center most beak opening.

No way- He wasn’t even here a couple of minutes ago and this things was about to EAT him. How did he get here? Where was Gram?

(Little did Troy know, he was in a lucid dream, similar to how a Sburb/Sgrub player enters a dream bubble. Gram hovered over him and trying to wake him up. The poor guy was trembling and yelping in his sleep. Gram only could imagine what he was witnessing right now, yet Gram has experienced these things nearly first hand- but this was Troy! This poor human can’t possibly handle this kind of exposure. Gram, you surely killed him this time. There’s no way he’s going to make it out of this unscathed.)

Troy has no other option but to watch as this looming Void Monster swallows him whole, but instead of the inside of some freaky mouth, he enters a new void, and visions of death and pain flash along every angle Troy looks. Death of people he’s never seen before, some he has. Gamzee being one of the only ones he recognizes by name. A lot of Gamzees. Too many to compreh- The screams are getting louder, chiming in as one.

He still can’t understand a fucking word any of them are saying! It’s garbled! It’s a different langue and it burns his ears to listen. It’s like it’s melting his brain. It ends up making him scream along with them, an attempt to drown it all out. The misery, desperation, pain, sadness, ANGER. It was all so powerful, leaving him trembling and sobbing, floating in place. He has nowhere to go. No exist to speak of.

He has no idea how long he’s stuck in this...Hell, but he ends up waking up, the shock of the screams stopping make him emit a fresh new scream, one powerful enough to tear his throat up by the time he was silenced by Gram’s hand over his mouth.

7 hours...

7 hours of pure torture. Gram was paying too close of attention to his hair, so he demands to know why- The old troll pulls out a hand mirror from his hidden inventory and lets Troy see, guilt etched on his face.

Troy observes his- His HAIR. It’s nearly pure white. That’s not a real thing that can happen to someone. Fear-fueled pigment change, the stuff of fantasy! However...it’s not like his life isn’t already like a Grimm fairy tale story. He does a double take to the mirror and notices his eyes are...different. The irises are dotted with purple? Wait, the purple is moving and shifting around his iris like a weather radar map.

“Dear G-G-..gh..God! What h-hha-ave I done?”

Great! his stuttering is back to catastrophic levels.

Time to get babied by Gram, again! The poor troll can’t look sorry enough even though Troy’s the one who looked right at his...his stuff. Whatever that stuff was.

#action #terrminallycapricious #((This actually happened last night but work made me wait to write this))

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enigma-im · 4 years

Text

The Strokes

Prompt #2

Subject: Oral Monster: Cthulhu

Oral is a bit strange when your lover’s mouth isn’t normal

-------------------------------------------------

His face is…strange. In more words, his face is a squirming pile of tentacles. At first glance it's weird, strange, unnerving. Around the 300th glance it get less so. Then again, who am I to say anything. I am the one dating the appendage filled face.

I watch as he trails kisses down my torso, sliding his hands down my sides as he goes.

"Don't you dare," I scold. The hand on my hip squeezes tighter in protest.

"Don't I dare what?"

"Don't you dare do what I think you're going to do, we talked about this."

He quirks a brow with the dullest look he can put on. The irritation is clear, that sass is unappreciated. I try to squirm out from under his arms, pulling my legs up to my chest. He sighs with more clear displeasure, resting his cheek on his palm. His eyes stare appreciatively between my legs before I cross my ankles. He grunts.

"I don't see the issue here," he shrugs," if anything this should be better than any of your previous experiences."

"that's not the point," I shout.

"Then what is the point?"

I fiddle with an answer, opening and closing my mouth without a clue. His shoulder sags along with his head as he sighs.

"Would it perhaps be because you don't like my mouth," he accuses. Though his observation is close, it's not dead on.

"No," I quickly shout," it's not that, not at all."

"Babe," he catches my eye," it's fine if you are. I get it."

"No- it's not- I mean… shut up, it's not that I don't like your mouth. You know I adore every bit of you, it's just…," I fidget.

"It's just what," he answers irked.

"It's just… I swear it's not because I'm off put by your handsome face," I smile. He quirks a brow of exasperation. "It's honestly because the… thingies… they tickle," I clench up my face at the childish nature of the issue.

He sits up with a grunt," they tickle?"

"Yea," I fidget some more," like when we kiss it's strange- in a good way- but they trace around my neck. I've gotten use to it but when you go down there it's a hell of a lot different. I'm not sure why it's just a lot of sensations that are really soft, if that makes sense."

I watch him ponder the situation for a moment, growing hot in the face with each passing second. I never in a million years assumed I would be having this conversation with my boyfriend. As trivial as the title sounds for him, it's true.

"I have an idea but you have to give it a try," he grabs at my ankle, pulling me forward. "I think- no, I know- you will love it. So do what you did when I first asked you out and give this strange fellow a try?" my legs rest under his chest and his crossed arms lounge on my stomach. I debate his suggestion, running the attempts through my head multiple times. Ultimately it's his request to give him the benefit of the doubt that wins me over. I gave him a try as a friend, it worked out. He is my best friend. I gave him a try when he took me out for a date. Now he is my lover. Knowing his luck he could go 3 for 3.

"Fine," he sits up excited, "But! You can't hold this against me later if I say I didn't like it."

He huffs," Ok, then you can't use this as an 'I did this for you now do this for me' thing."

"deal."

I watch with trepidation as he rests his beard of tentacles on my stomach, pressing his lips to my skin as he lowers. The slightly damp tendrils trail lazily over me, tracing every curve and blemish with ticklish care. My stomach flutters and clenches at the sensation. My toes curl as I try to settle in and stop being so tense. I catch his eyes, falling into the allure that captured me when we first met. His amber eyes that promise pleasure.

I slowly settle more onto my elbows as I watch. My leg twitches when he presses a kiss to my mound, jumping with anticipated building in my loins. My breath catches as I feel his tentacles scatter around, teasing the cleft of my thigh, trailing over my hip bone. It tickles like I expected, my skin twitches and pulls taunt as I try not to wiggle away. The feeling is too light, too soft.

I get ready to sit up and stop him when he holds me. It's hard to explain but it feels like all his facial appendages are fingers, pressing firmly against me like a hand. Their movement are more defined now, more arousing.

My eyes flutter when he parts my folds, leading himself between to coax at my clit. I choke on a gasp at the attention, dropping my head back as a thrill runs up my spine. Two, or three, of his tentacles open me up. He spreads my lips to make way for his tongue. The rough texture guides a groan from my lips as he glides along me. The broad strokes pulls immediate pleasure from my stomach, pulsing outwards as I lose my breath.

Soon a few of his tendrils tease up my thighs towards my entrance, warning me before they trail inside. The sensation is similar to fingers but the image of him pressing his facial appendages inside me brings another moan to my lips.

I feel him chuckle as I slowly gyrate into him, relishing the feeling of his tongue. His laugh is pleasant though very arrogant. Sitting up to scold him for his cocky behavior was too much effort. I'll give him a pass this time, he earned it.

Three or four tentacles stroke and prod inside me as his lips clasp over my clit, sucking hard. I find myself bucking into his ministrations, reaching down to pet over his head. My legs bend, pulling him in with his all to pleased hum. I can't help it, I need him. I need more of him.

His tendrils glide over and hold my hips and thighs. The feeling of so many fingers worshipping me is becoming too much. The sensations sending my brain into auto pilot. I buck and groan, crying out a few times to his magical tongue. I clench down on his tentacles, grasping his head while my legs drive him against me.

"Please," I groan out absentmindedly. He chuckles again before adding more of himself inside me. I rise to the challenge, crying out as my body falls to the pleasure he built. My legs pull him impossibly close, I dig my nails into his neck, I bolt upwards with a silent cry. I buck wildly into him before falling back into the sheets. His attention trail off, guiding me down from my high with a lover's kiss.

I hardly notice when he climbs over me, pressing his weight on my lower half. He rests his head against my chest, watching me catch my breath.

"Not so bad, not that either one of us should be surprised," he bounces his brows with an arrogant gleam in his eyes. I can't bother to answer him, instead opening my arms for him to come up. He crawls towards my awaiting arms, settling into my hold. I press a few lazy kisses to his face before falling completely lax on the bed.

"Yea, how dare I ever doubt you," I chuckle.

--------------------------------------------------

One more tomorrow

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asoftervirge · 4 years

Text

Of “Love” & Murder - (5/13)

CHAPTER TITLE: The Tragedy of Roman Scarlet

RATING: M PAIRINGS: P. Sanders/V. Sanders (main/one-sided); R. Sanders/V. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/L. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/D. Sanders (former); Remy/E. Picani (side); T. Sanders/OMC (mentioned)

CHAPTER WARNINGS/KINKS: mentions of Remus, mentions of Lovecraft & his Racism, Alcohol, Singing, Musical References, Flirting, Kissing, Touching, Implied/Referenced Smut, mentions of Murder CHAPTER SUMMARY: Roman tells Virgil his backstory on how he met Virgil.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: And here we’re introduced to Roman! :D Again, from here on, the content warnings are heavier than the previous chapters, so please take care of yourself if you decide to keep going! Have fun reading everyone! xx Virge

INSPIRATION: This post by @phantomofthesanderssides

AO3 || Buy Me A Ko-Fi!

Patton blinked in astonishment while the figure continued to smile gently at him.

Was— Was he dreaming, or was this actually happening?

A soft giggle breaks him out of his shocked state. It was a very melodic sound, and despite the surprise that was currently surging through his body, it somehow put him at ease.

“What’s the matter, darling?” the voice called to him, almost amused by Patton’s shock. “You happen to look quite pale. Paler than the man who lives here, and he happens to wear quite a lot of foundation.”

Backing away slightly, Patton tugged at his sweater nervously. “You…Who are you?”

The person— ghost? vision? hallucination?— gave him a sparkling smile. It almost made him blush. “You don’t remember who I am?” he asked. Patton was confused by this. “Perhaps you should get a closer look. Come, come. There’s no need to be shy! My face is a familiar sight for many of my adoring fans, especially if they who went to Storytime.”

If they went to the bar? Patton became a little more confused, but he did as Roman asked and stepped closer, albeit shyly. With his smile still bright, Roman moved his head about to give the confectioner a glimpse of his profile. As he did so, baby blue eyes widened in sudden realization.

The sharp angles and high cheekbones. The ruby red lips. The hourglass figure. The curly auburn hair and reddish-brown eyes. There was no mistaking who this was anymore.

“Wait,” he breathes out. “You…You’re Roman Scarlet.”

“So you’ve remembered.” Roman smiled wider. “I am, indeed.”

Patton looked at him in awe. This was the famed Scarlet Rose who Remy and Thomas gushed about so much. The one whose photographs hung on many of the lounge’s walls.

Though he looked very different from both the painting here, and the photograph that he saw at Storytime. Instead of a beautiful, glittering red dress, it was a three-piece suit. A suit that consisted of a cream blazer with a yellow shirt underneath, along with white dress pants and black boots. Red and gold patterned designs decorated his attire in various places. And a red-colored ascot was wrapped around his neck.

Nonetheless, he was still very handsome as he was beautiful.

“I-I…” the confectioner didn’t know where to begin. “How— How are you here? How am I able to see you like this?”

A sad smile now came to Roman’s face. “I’m here to warn you,” was all he said.

“Warn me?” Patton echoed confusedly. “About what?”

Roman didn’t say anything. He kept his head down, gazing at his clutched hands that sat upon his lap. The confectioner noted how his nails were colored the same as his lips. His eyes held a bevy of emotions in them: bittersweetness and a little bit of mournfulness.

“Ms. Scarlet?”

“It’s Mr., actually. Oh, don’t look guilty, dearie, it happens.” Roman reassured as he saw Patton look bad for accidentally misgendering him. “I’m just,” he shook his head. “It’s not the most pleasant thing to look back upon.”

“You don’t have to—”

“No,” the former thespian said firmly, suddenly, causing Patton to look surprised. He corrected himself, using a much more calmer tone, “No. I need to warn you of the Cruel De Vil that lives in this house.”

Patton let out a noise and nodded. “Take your time, Mr. Scarlet.”

“Call me Roman, please,” Roman tells him with a faint tug of his lips. “And…I suppose I should start at the very beginning. It’s a very good place to start.”

Patton nods again, waiting patiently as the former thespian takes a deep breath.

“As I was growing up, I always wanted had a passion for singing and dancing,” he begins. “All types of music would play from either the record player or Mama’s radio.” A faint smile traced his ruby lips. “My parents always encouraged us to follow our dreams in the same way my grandparents did them when they first came to America so many years ago; and I’ve stuck by that ever since. I remember putting on little performances for my family after dinner or whenever we had guests come over; I remember how joyous I felt whenever I received applauds or cheers from my audience. That only fueled me to aspire acting unlike my brother, Remigio, or Remus as he likes to be called, who pursued literature…albeit of the more…horrific genre. Think Edgar Allan Poe or, even worse, H.P. Lovecraft.”

Patton shivered, an ugly feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. Roman agreed with his sentiments.

“Don’t ask me why my brother would want to affiliate himself with a notorious racist,” he scoffed with a small eye roll. “Once he read The Call of Cthulhu, by the head of Nessie, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. All of his works had some form of cosmic entity, or encryptic language, or some reference to a cult that always gave me the heebie-jeebies.”

The confectioner grew a little bit sick.

“Now where were we?” Roman mumbled to himself as he lost his train of thought. “Ah, yes! My life story, not my brothers’. When I was in high school, I started joining drama clubs, classes, and performing at my local theater. My first ever performance was Teen Angel in Grease; it was a small role, but I immersed myself in it. So much so, that I started grabbing people’s attention from the get-go. I then stared in My Fair Lady, Annie Get Your Gun, and a couple small name plays.”

“However, my biggest chance came through when I got the parts for two big productions: Captain Von Trapp in The Sound of Music, and Romeo in Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet.” Patton could see Roman’s eyes light up as he talked. “It was these roles that could show people that I was serious about acting, that I wanted to be more than a celebrity in my community. And boy did I wow them! I made them laugh, I made them cry, I stunned them with my acting. Nobody could have that more so than me, and I did it.”

“That was when I was scouted by a talent agent in the audience. He told me with my voice and my talents, I would become star on the Great White Way.” Roman shook his head, almost like he still couldn’t believe it. “And I took the leap of faith, and thus, Ramon Alexandre de la Rosa became Roman Scarlet.”

“Why change your name?”

Roman shrugged. “I had to appeal to the Americans somehow. No one would remember someone with a Spanish name like mine. Besides, a lot of us celebrities changed our names in order to reach fame.”

Patton nods. It made sense. “So how did you end up performing at Storytime?”

“About a year or so after it opened. I wanted to go back to my roots of performing for small audiences. I was performing in Hamlet when I met Alejandro Reyes and Thomas Sanders. We had dinner that night and the rest, as they say, is history. I started performing there on the weekends when I didn’t have a show.”

“And that was how you met Virgil?” Patton dared to ask.

Roman grew silent. Then chuckled emptily. “Yes,” he said finally. “That, was how I met Virgil. Or rather, how Virgil met me.”

…

One of the first things Virgil saw upon entering Storytime were a bunch of excited people clambered near the stage and its runway, faces aglow by the spotlights as they yearned to see their Prince. As he moved towards the bar, he took a closer look at the steady stream of people; it was a remarkably varied group— a mix of skin colors, genders, ages, along with sexual and romantic orientations mixed together. The air was thick with excitement as they continued to fill the lounge like sheep or cattle.

He casually slid onto one of the barstools, back against the bar and elbows resting on the counter; he reclined languidly, crossing one leg over the other.

Virgil looked around and also noticed some performers in scantily-clad outfits, sequin sparkling as they swayed their hips, going up to the bar to order some liquid courage. The fingers of the musicians drummed against their instruments, creating a low, thumping bass noise as they tested them and got them ready for the show.

“Hello, there,” a kind voice spoke from behind him. “Can I interest you in a cocktail?”

Casually, almost nonchalantly, Virgil tilted his head back so he was staring at the bartender from upside down. They were looking down (up?) at him with kind eyes and a pleasant smile, in his hand was a cocktail shaker.

Virgil thought a moment then nodded. “One espresso martini, please.”

The bartender nodded as he prepared his drink. He mixed vodka, simple syrup, coffee liqueur, and freshly brewed espresso together in the shaker with ice. He strained it into a chilled cocktail glass, garnished it with espresso beans before sliding the glass to Virgil.

He took a long sip of his drink, the taste of vodka and coffee hitting his palette pleasantly. He looked at the bartender and nodded, signaling that he did a good job. The bartender smiled wider and then moved on to making cocktails for the other patrons that walked to the bar.

Sipping again, Virgil blanked out any of the noises surrounding him until he caught wind of two very familiar looking people near the far-right corner of the bar. One having dark brown hair with lavender dye, the other having burnt orange hair; the both of them were chatting about something, but what, he didn’t know.

Remy’s golden brown eyes met his for a split second. He whispered to Toby before pointing to Virgil. This caused him to force a smile and nod cordially, receiving a wink and a blow of a kiss back. If he were honest, he was glad they didn’t motion him to join their conversation, otherwise, he would’ve just hissed and made sarcastic jabs at them.

Then the lights flared dramatically; all who were still standing quickly made their way to any open seats available as a man appeared on stage.

“And now, ladies, gentlemen, and all of our beloved guests here at Storytime, please welcome the star of the hour— Ms. Roman Scarlet!”

The audience broke out into the loudest of applauses as the starlet’s name was announced, though they quickly quieted down as the lights dimmed and a singular spotlight shone against the thick velvet curtains.

“You had plenty money 1922,” the voice crooned as a long, smooth leg appeared onto the stage from the small parting left open. Then the curtains slowly drew back as the instruments picked up to her voice. “You let other women make a fool of you…”

Virgil sat up a little, looking slightly fascinated.

Red-painted lips twisted up into a sultry smile as they strutted over to the piano, leaning against it in a suggestive manner. “Why don’t you do right, like some other men do?”

She then sauntered across the stage to the cheers and hollers and whistles. Her red sequin dress had a long slit that left little room for imagination. “Get out of here and get me some money too?” Roman stops to raise their long leg up, running the skin of her foot along the jawline of a lucky patron. You could almost swear they were nuzzling it.

“So, this is the illustrious Scarlet Rose that charms people to their knees, hmm?” Virgil notes as he takes another sip of his martini glass. He says this as if he doesn’t know who Roman Scarlet is, but everyone in the city knows who they are.

“Yep.” A voice rung from beside him. He looked to see Toby and Remy eyeing him with teasing looks that really made Virgil want to hiss and growl at them. Toby smirked and took a swig of his whiskey.

“And ain’t we lucky people to watch this bombshell every weekend, sugar?” Remy lowers their sunglasses and winked at him before taking Toby by the arm and leading him to a more secluded part of the lounge.

When they left, Virgil turned back to the stage. The dress clung to her body like a second skin, showing off her toned and slim figure; muscles shifted visibly as she prowled, blowing kisses and winking at the captives surrounding her.

“You’re sitting there wondering what it’s all about. You ain’t got no money, they will put you out,” Roman’s fingers carded through her hair, tousling it in a flirtatious manner. “Why don’t you do right, like some other men do? Get out of there and get me some money too?”

Roman then strides down the runway, one hand sliding down her belly and resting on her hip. “If you had prepared 20 years ago, you wouldn’t be a-wanderin’ out from door to door,” She reached down and ran her free hand down the side of a lucky patron’s face. They kept their eyes trained on her as their mouth hung agape. “Why don’t you do right, like some other men do?” she crooned as she slid her fingers away from their chin.

They nearly fainted.

She then hops onto one of the tables, heels clicking against the wood. Some of the patrons volunteered their hands for Roman to take as she steps off the table. “Get out of here and get me some money too?”

Virgil watches as she moved away from the stage and runway, the thickest part of the crowd and over to the bar. “I fell for your jivin’ and I took you in,” The bartender slid Roman a dry martini with a couple of olives. “Now all you got to offer me’s a drink of gin,” He watches with an impressed look as she slams the martini down the back of her throat, then popping both olives in her mouth.

The bartender takes the glass and Roman smiled sweetly at them, leaning in to kiss their cheek. “Why don’t you do right, like some other men do?” She looked over to her left and wiggled her fingers at Toby and Remy when she saw them. “Get out of here and get me some money too.”

Finally, her passionate eyes finally met the stormy eyes of Virgil Nyx.

A cheshire grin appeared on her face as trailed her hand across Virgil’s back, fingertips gently scratching at the back of his neck making him grown more and more intrigued. Then she was moving in front of him, both hands moving from Virgil’s back to his shoulders. She slid her hands underneath of his trench coat, touch blazing even through his thick turtleneck.

“Why don’t you do right,” she purred, now wrapped her arms around his neck as the audience whooped in delight. As she straddled him by a leg, Virgil felt the flames of her presence burning brighter. “Like some other men—”

Roman squeaked as Virgil instantly pulled her onto his lap, now sitting on him completely. She was warm and solid there as they were pressed chest-to-chest, stomach-to-stomach. The raptured audience’s breath hitched along with Roman as they all saw this sudden and dramatic interruption of the song, but none of them minded; in fact, they were equally drawn to the mysterious man boldly challenging their starlet.

Her heart hammered frantically against her chest as she felt skinny, calloused fingers tickle her back, seeing the smirk in his eyes as she squirmed on top of him. Whether she was squirming closer or further away from him, Virgil didn’t know, but he enjoyed watching such a composed performer crumble from his touch.

Virgil leaned closer until their noses nearly touched, breath brushing each other’s lips. Despite Roman knowing they were in a room with a mass crowd of people, all clinging onto to her every note, but in that moment, with the spotlight shining on both their faces, they were the only two people in the building.

“— D-Do~…” Roman finished the last note with a small stutter as she slid off Virgil’s lap, quickly trying to bring the sensual look on her fact to no avail.

The drums, followed by the bass, and finally the piano sounded the encore of the song as the Scarlet Rose strutted (more like scampered) back to the stage. The spotlight faded entirely, and the curtains swung closed, Roman’s last not echoing through the showroom.

There was an crescendo in applause as it died, not really wanting to break the enchantment, but wanting to scream their love at their diva. A few claps, followed by more, then it became a roar or feral howl that couldn’t be tamed by the band’s random playing during intermission.

As the spell broke over the audience, many of them went over to the bar to refill their drinks while others went and chattered to other patrons; and there were those that grabbed others to drag them to rooms outside of the lounge (probably to either smoke, make out, or have a quickie.)

It was during this time that Virgil turned in his seat and casually ordered another espresso martini. The bartender (who he learned was named Thomas) smiled and complimented at how he made Roman flustered like that; apparently it was a rare thing to do. Virgil hummed and sipped his martini, silently shooing Thomas away, who complied and filled even more drinks for patrons.

Perhaps five or more minutes later, the piano started up in a jazzy, ragtime tune. The crowed swarmed back to the stage, runway, and any empty seats as Roman sauntered back onto the stage with a less flustered face.

She got into position in front of the microphone, long fingers wrapping around it suggestively. Virgil turned back to the stage as Roman started singing another tune: “All that Jazz” from Chicago. Even he, who wasn’t all that much of a purveyor of the glitz and glamor of The Great White Way, could see the appeal— though this might’ve had more to do with the actual performer than the performances themselves.

Roman held the audience in the palm of her hand for another four more songs after that. She toyed with them playfully as she danced and swayed her hips in that very provocative dress and her high, alluring voice raising goosebumps on fevered skin.

Eventually, the final song, “Nowadays/Hot Honey Rag,” also from Chicago, came to a crashing halt and Roman stood on the stage, damp with sweat and grinning triumphantly. A model shotgun was in her hands and a red top hat was on her head.

“Thank you, ladies, lords and non-binary royalty!” She blew a kiss, gathering bouquets and individual roses in her arms. “Thank you for another wonderful night! I’ll see you again next weekend!”

The curtains fell to thunderous applause, yet Virgil cancelled it out. He stood up along with the audience as they gathered their belongings; then discreetly walked backstage as they now prowled the lounge. Dark grey eyes narrowed and scanned the halls at the other performers, backstage crew, costume designers, and makeup artists scuttling about. Finally he caught sight of a glittering gold star with the cursive ’Roman Scarlet’ underneath.

Making sure no one was looking, he opened the door with a single twist. Walking inside, he closed it with the faintest of clicks. His eyes grew intrigued and wicked as he glanced over the dressed-down starlet.

Roman’s sequin dress and boa were hanging on a mannequin in the far right corner of the room, which was decorated in red wallpaper with golden details. The furniture— a couch, fainting chair, and vanity seat— matched the seating in the lounge, also red velvet cushioning. Four lamps darned the walls to give it extra lighting even with the lights from the vanity table. Speaking of the vanity, makeup ranging from palettes, lipsticks, and polishes were scattered about its surface along with playbills and pearl jewelry. A giant bouquet of red and pink roses lay on the floor by the actor’s feet, next to her red heels.

The star herself was sitting in front of the mirror, wiping any remnants of sweaty makeup off her face and reapplying it. Her curly auburn hair glowed in the lighting, and her skin looked a little shining from being on stage. Covering her body (or barely) was a long, red chiffon robe with a silk ribbon tied loosely around her waist, attached to the sleeves and bottom were red feathers that looked identical to the white ones on her boa.

In the silence between them, Roman was quietly humming a tune: “What’s New, Buenos Aires” from Evita.

Virgil smirks faintly as he shuffled across the room. And as the final bars of the song were hummed, he finally addressed her, “Roman Scarlet. I’ve heard so much about you before I came here.”

A squeak, followed by the dropping of something. (A palette? A compact mirror? Virgil didn’t know and frankly didn’t care.) Roman turned around to see the amused man standing behind her. “Y-You?!” she cried out in surprise. “H-How did you get in here?!”

“Door’s unlocked,” Virgil motioned to it. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is, I’m finally pleased to make the acquaintance of someone of your caliber.”

Roman blinked, a flattered blush dusting her cheeks. “I-I thank you, truly,” she tells him. “But I’m not that special, for I am only an actor. Nothing to shout about, only a person enjoying their passion.”

“But you’re more than that,” Virgil insists, sitting on the arm of the couch. “When you act, you take us away from the squalor of the real world.”

The surprised expression on Roman’s face quickly disappeared, eyes lighting up in an excited manner. “A man who also knows Andrew Lloyd Webber?! Are you trying to tempt my theatrical heart?”

“Depends,” Virgil shrugged, raising a cocky eyebrow. He moved closer to the actor, pulling out a dark red rose tied with a black ribbon out of his trench coat. “Is it working?”

Roman takes the rose, breath hitching as their fingertips brush each other. She observes the richly colored petals before smelling it. She’s been given all sorts of roses throughout the years, but never one like this. “I believe it might be.”

Virgil smirked. “Good.” He rested his right ankle over his knee. “I must say, you have quite the voice, Ms. Scarlet. Or is it Mr. now?”

“It’s Ms. Scarlet currently. And thank you again for your praises.” Roman says, her newly painted lips twist into a smirk of her own. Her eyes grow half-lidded, allowing Virgil to see her sparkling red eyeshadow. “So,” she coquettishly crossed her legs. “What brought you to Storytime, Mr…?”

“Nyx. Virgil Nyx.”

Roman hummed. The name sounded very enticing in her mind. “You seem to be of the dark and gloomy type who doesn’t enjoy the nightclub scene. Again, what brings you here to flirt with a someone like me, hmm?”

“Well, I just so happen to remember some old friends who come here regularly, Remy Moerani and Toby Hallows.” That wasn’t completely true, as Virgil had only met them once or twice while still working at the bookstore. He would barely call them acquaintances, let alone friends. “But I personally came to see the beautiful rose performing at this establishment.”

A bright blush came to Roman’s face. “O-Oh come now!” she squeaked, averting her eyes from Virgil. “Y-You’re just being charming!”

“I mean it.” Virgil moves so he was directly kneeling in front of the vanity seat. His fingers carded themselves in her curly auburn hair, causing her breath to hitch again. His hand moved to where it was now caressing Roman’s cheek.

His thumb lightly ran across her bottom lip, the smooth and glossy lipstick coating his calloused skin. They parted obligingly. Dark grey eyes met reddish-brown ones; ones were sharpened in concentration, while the others were widened in anticipation.

Then, in a blink of an eye, Virgil kissed her.

Roman melted into the kiss the second their lips met. Her long, delicate fingers entangled themselves around Virgil’s neck and in his hair. In turn, he could feel the other man’s trailing magically down her body, causing her to squirm and writhe deliciously in his arms.

It was like an explosion— unrestrained and all-consuming.

As quickly as it started the kiss broke, and when Roman was about to whine and complain, she felt lips marking her skin. Fang-like teeth grazing against her sharp jawline, rapidly-beating pulse point, all the way down her hourglass figure.

Biting her reddened (and newly smeared) lips, she looks down at Virgil with hazy eyes as he touches her in a way she’s never been touched before. His faded hair tickled her skin as his kisses got lower and lower; she whines at him tracing the hem of her red, lacy panties before resuming all the way down her thighs, legs, and to her feet. Her fingers gripping and loosening against the arms of her chair.

“Wh— What are you doing…?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Virgil looked up at her with seductive eyes as he kissed all the way back up her leg and thigh, nipping occasionally. Roman gasped sharply, wanting to throw her head back and let herself be immersed in this tantalizing pleasure, but she kept her gaze on him. “I’m tempting your theatrical heart,” he continued, smirking. “Or better yet,” He kissed the hem of her panties before tugging them in his teeth. “Your body.”

Roman whimpered and felt herself growing weaker. “V-Virgil~” She really wanted him, but she was worried since, well, they were in her dressing room and not her apartment in the upper part of town. “W-We’ll get caught—!”

“Well, if someone decides to listen in…just tell them we’re playing patty-cake.” He tells her sitting up, unbuttoning and unzipping on his uncontrollably-tight leather pants.

Roman gulped and nodded, sighing happily as she was pulled into another searing kiss. Lips messily attacking each other, and hands roaming and groping each other. The balls of her heels were pressing hard into the small of his back.

She could feel herself slowly growing weak, weak for Virgil Nyx, weak for what he was doing to her, weak for the fire growing ablaze in her belly. She was pressed closer and closer until Roman couldn’t think of anything but heat, skin, pressure, pleasure, Virgil.

Virgil, Virgil, Virgil.

Her hands flew to his turtleneck and trench coat, yanking and tearing them off his body. As she did this, Roman could feel him undoing the ribbon around her waist then swiftly taking off her panties.

The first moan ripped from her throat after a few agonizing minutes of kissing, touching, and prepping each other. Her nails begin clawing and scratching Virgil’s back as he rocked his hips in and out of her, panting and groaning lowly against her ear.

Any members of the show or crew that were backstage blushed and gossiped amongst themselves as they heard pleasured cries, deep grunts, and lewd praises/comments.

(When Roman came out of the dressing room and made her way to the lounge— fully dressed and with a bright blush on her cheeks— reactions to her varied. Most giggled while some dared not look at her in the eyes, others coughed awkwardly and some even wolf-whistled. Her friends were no different. Toby snorted into his whiskey glass, Remy cackled and slid her a screaming orgasm, Alejandro sighed and made his way to the stage, while Thomas shook his head and tended to other patrons.)

…

Patton blushed furiously as Roman giggled. He didn’t expect the ghost to give him such…details about his love life with Virgil, even if he glossed over some things (which he was grateful for). Then again, he suppose it came with the territory of being some so sensational like Roman, and mystifying like Virgil.

“Oh, I apologize, darling.” Roman said with an apologetic look. “I don’t mean to make you redder than Dorothy’s shoes, but it’s something I can’t help. Virgil was…well, quite the tempestuous lover,” A thrill went up his spine, a blush appearing on his own cheeks. “Just one little touch in the right place and he made me weak in my knees~” A blissful sigh.

“S-So uhm…” The confectioner said a little suddenly, growing redder. He didn’t know how to continue in the conversation in the first place! “H-How did you remain so close with Virgil?” he asked lamely. “D-Did he keep coming to Storytime or—?”

Roman snapped out of his lovestruck trance and moved over to the dresser. Patton didn’t know why, but he felt a sudden chill come through the room. He returned with a beautiful white picture frame with golden embossing on it, the stand out of it was the photograph of Roman and Virgil.

Baby blue eyes stared closely as he inspected the details. Auburn hair tickled a pale cheek as they curled into each other’s sides, arms linked with one another.

Virgil looking surprisingly handsome. His hair was actually kept out of his eyes and more violet than what it is now. A distant smile was on his face that was half-turned towards the camera. His attire was also fancier than his usual trench coat and turtleneck; he was wearing a wine colored button up, black suit pants, a lilac vest, and purple tie. He was also wearing dark eyeshadow and purple lipstick.

Roman also looked very beautiful, lovely even. He was wearing a white, lacy mermaid gown that fit snugly on his body. The detailing on it was also lined with gold, from the bodice, to the sleeves, and all the way to the skirt. His signature red makeup painted on his face. A thin, lacy veil was adorned on his hair attached to a sparkling little tiara. In his hands was a giant bouquet of red roses.

They were standing in front of Storytime, surrounding them were Thomas, Alejandro, Remy, and Toby. All of them had varying expressions on their faces, but they all had one thing in common: happiness.

Written on the bottom right corner of the photo, in bright red ink were the following words, a red heart encircled around them:

‘Virgil + Roman February 14th, 1975’

“He became my husband.” Roman says, confirming everything Thomas told him. “We were married on Valentine’s Day.” He looked at the photograph, his face softening as he recalled that day. “It was magical. The most happiest day of my life. Everything seemed so wonderful back then. Like nothing horrible was going to happen.” His expression then turned sad, almost bittersweet. “How foolish and naive I was.”

Patton look at him. “What do you mean?” he asked in confusion. “What happened?”

Silence.

Then something Patton wasn’t expecting at all.

“He murdered me.”

#Sanders Sides #Patton Sanders #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Moxiety #Prinxiety #Of Love & Murder

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uas-fics · 5 years

Text

Title: Who Needs Sleep Anyway?

Summary: Kenny's been working long hours, so a Saturday date is just what he needs to relax.

Ships: Stenny

Rating: T

Request from spaceboi.craig on instagram

~~~~

Four and a half hours at City Wok, eight and a half hours at school, two hours rushing through homework, that's fifteen hours, not counting morning grooming and travel time.

Fifteen hour days all week.

Kenny had never been so thankful for a weekend. A weekend with a Saturday date on top of that almost made not spending the day sleeping worth it.

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. Even so, he was still tired. Slapping his cheeks might wake him up. Didn't he watch a Mythbusters episode on that once?

As he prepared to smack his cheeks, a voice called out his name.

A hand slammed firmly between his shoulder blades, nearly toppling him over.

“Oh, shit, dude, ” Stan gasped and grabbed his forearm, “are you ok?”

Kenny flashed a smile and a peace sign.

“I'm fine, Stan, my man, but you shouldn't go attacking people like that. Your jock strength is dangerous, ” Kenny teased.

Stan did not look amused. He fixed Kenny with a hard, probing look.

“When did you last sleep?” He demanded.

Kenny held himself firm with a deadpan expression.

“I got seven hours last night, ” he replied. That wasn't a lie, but it wasn't what Stan wanted to hear.

Kenny continued on, “I got plenty of sleep all week. Mr. Kim has been letting me work on my homework at City Wok when there is a lull, so I don't need to do it at home.”

That was a lie, but it pacified Stan enough that he backed off the subject, much to Kenny’s relief.

He would rather not start their date once again reminding Stan that Mr. Kim wasn't all that bad and if he hadn't let Kenny work under the table for the last few years, Kenny’s family would have starved.

Throwing an arm around Stan's shoulders, Kenny asked, “So, what's this date plan of yours and does it involve me driving Sweet Rig?”

Stan snorted a laugh.

“Sweet Rig” was Cartman's sarcastically given name to Stan's car, which all of Stan's friends lovingly adopted.

Sweet Rig was actually Stan's grandpa's car, handed down to him on his sixteenth birthday. The brakes squealed. The back passenger side door only opened from the outside. The whole vehicle shook when the speedometer needle was over fifty-five. It smelled like mold and cat urine and dust, guzzled gas like none other, and Stan coddled it like a newborn baby.

The tank never fell below a forth. He didn't allow food or drink inside. A trash bag waited under the back seat for muddy shoes, and every seventh, like clockwork, Stan checked the fluids.

Kenny batted his eyelashes and Stan pushed him away.

“Nope.”

“Damn, well, worth a try.” Kenny shrugged. “So what are we doing really?” He cast a glance around him.

The morning sun glinted off Stark's Pond. Little rivers of melted snow snaked across the dirt paths. The trees extended into the distance.

Stan puffed out his chest. “Hiking, ” he proclaimed.

Kenny couldn't help but wince.

“Hiking?” He repeated. Stan had to be joking.

Stan nodded. “Yeah, hiking.” For emphasis he turned the backpack Kenny just noticed he had towards his front.

“You see, ” he said as he began to unzip the pack, “the weather is supposed to be gross and windy next week, so I thought it would be a good idea to enjoy nature before then.”

For a moment, Kenny wondered if this was a test. Was Stan doing this to make Kenny fess up to being dog tired? If he did, would Stan give up the charade then drive them to the movies?

The admission sat on his tongue for a best, ready to come out, when Kenny remembered that this was not the first time Stan had done a date idea like this.

He did it before when he and Wendy were still together. It had been the first time he put his hand up a girl's shirt. Stan bragged about it for weeks afterward, earning the respect of his fellows.

Oh, I get it. Stan wants to get down and dirty in the woods, Kenny thought.

Out loud, he said, “oh, that sounds great. I'm game for some outdoor activities.”

If Stan noticed the inflection in Kenny's voice, he didn't show it. Instead, he nodded, pulling out a pair of worn hiking boots.

“Here, ” he set them in Kenny’s hands, “they'll work better than what you have.”

Kenny lifted his right shoe. The sole near his big toe came loose on Wednesday. He'd wrapped some duct tape around it, but when he got home, Kenny would have to super glue it.

Stan set a hand on his elbow and led him to the bench by the pond.

Kenny pulled out a boot’s tongue with a frown.

“Stan, I'm a size nine, this is an eleven,” Kenny told him.

Stan set his bag on the bench to dig around.

“I know, so I picked up some socks. Two pairs should work, you think? The pack has three, I think if two doesn't work.”

Kenny perked up from the bench seat as he untied his shoes.

‘Picked up’ had become something of a code word meaning ‘you can keep these afterward’ that Stan started using in an attempt to save Kenny some pride when he bought him a necessity.

Kenny didn't complain though. He could always use new socks, with how fast he wore out his.

“Oh, cool, thanks.” Kenny set his shoes on the bench beside him. As he did, he stole a glance into Stan's bag.

Gatorade bottles, granola bars, beef jerky sticks, but Kenny didn't see anything particularly useful for adult recreation. Maybe it was in another pocket.

“Damn it, ” Stan swore. “I forgot the socks in Sweet Rig. Do you mind waiting?”

Kenny shook his head. “‘Course not. Take your time, but, ” here he winked, “don't take too long, lover boy.”

Kenny took great pleasure in seeing Stan's cheeks turn pink.

“Um, yeah, be back.” Stan pointed towards the parking lot before jogging towards it.

Kenny snickered, then leaned back against the bench.

The sun warmed the wood, leaving it pleasent against him. The birds tweeted a lovely song. Ducks occasionally splashed in the pond.

He shut his eyes.

“Just for a moment, ” he muttered to himself.

If the weather really did get gross and windy as Stan claimed, then making a pleasant memory such as this was the best course of action.

After a few moments, his chin lowered to his chest, his breathing deepened, and Kenny dozed off.

~~~~~

On some level, Kenny knew he was dreaming. Somehow he always knew when he was dreaming.

But lucidity of the dream soon faded as the dream solidified into a scene.

He was on a nice couch, in a house he knew he owned— not rented, owned. The walls had posters of scantily clad people in many different poses that showed off their exposed skin.

On the shelves were knick-knacks and pictures of his family. Karen and Kevin were happy and his parents were sober.

This was his dream future.

When he was younger, the room would be filled with the people from his posters, but with age, the people had dwindled to one person laying under him.

He had his lips pressed to Stan's neck and Stan had his hands running up and down his back.

Sounds more wanton than anything Stan had made in real life escaped his mouth.

Kenny pulled back, admiring the string of hickies he’d left along Stan’s neck and collarbone. Stan’s hands stayed planted firmly on his lower back as he scooted to a sitting position.

He hugged Kenny, hurrying his face in his stomach.

“Good...Love you...” He murmured. Stan was sappy and clingy when they made out and Kenny loved it.

He raised his hand to stroke his boyfriend’s hair when a sharp pain resonated from his back.

Throwing back his head, Kenny let out a gasping scream as sharp claws dug into his flesh.

When he looked back down, Stan was gone, replaced by a thick, sinewy claw wrapped around him.

Its nails dug deeper into him as the claw rose up.

Soon Kenny found himself face to face with a creature of nightmares and madness.

Cthulhu’s skin stretched across his face like wet leather. His eyes burned with an orange, unworldly flame.

All around them strange architectures sprung up as did disfigure, unnatural monsters buzzing by like grotesque flies.

Cthulhu squeezed and Kenny bit down on his tongue to hold back another scream.

This creature was his nightmare and, in a sense, his equal. This was one of the few beings that could kill him forever —

His heart froze in his chest. His limbs felt like lead.

If Cthulhu killed him, he wouldn't come back. It would be The End. No rewind. No reboot. No return after the commercial break.

Just The End.

His cries fell quiet in his throat.

Another squeeze and he heard bones crack.

“...no...please...” He whimpered. “I'm happy. You can't do this to me when I'm finally happy.”

Kenny wanted to cry, to scream, to plead that it wasn't fair, that he was scared, that he didn't want this.

He shut his eyes, trying to calm his shaking.

The afterlife stopped scaring Kenny a long time ago, but having all he worked for taken away from him, leaving his love and family alone? That scared him stiff.

He waited for antagonizing moments for the great old one to squish him like a bug, but instead of killing him, Cthulhu turned his claw around and dropped Kenny.

Not once did he open his eyes to see the ground rushing towards him. His body went lax, like Kenny long ago taught it to do when it was one a collision course with a hard object.

The collision never happened.

A pair of arms wrapped around him. His head slumped against a chest. The sound of a strong, steady heart calmed his own.

Kenny had dreams of carrying quite, though he didn't know why. At least they were always a comforting dream.

Usually in his dream, either his mom or dad carried him. This time, the scent of cigarettes and beer didn't fill his nose. The scent of body spray, grass, and dog hair did.

Stan, he realized groggily.

If Kenny had more conscious control over his dreams, he might have wondered when Stan became so involved in his happiest fantasies, but he didn't, so instead, he wrapped his arms around Stan and snuggled close without ever opening his eyes. Curling up against Stan, Kenny let himself slip back to his earlier dream of the house and of a happy future.

~~~~~

Someone shuffling around under him woke Kenny up.

He blinked looking around.

The interior of Sweet Rig was all around him.

“Oh, shit, sorry, did i wake you up?” Stan yawned, stretching out. He too blinked the sleep from his eyes.

“What's going on? Did we go hiking?” Kenny readjusted himself more comfortably on Stan's lap, his feet hung over the center console of the front seat. He was still only in his ratty socks. Where did his shoes end up? Stan probably set them in the shoe trashbag.

“Nah, you passed out on a bench. I carried you to the car.” Stan explained. “I was going to take you home, but then you hugged me in your sleep.” He smirked. “It’s was pretty cute, dude.”

Kenny pressed his shoulder against Stan’s chest and smiled slyly. “Cute enough for a drive?”

“No.” Stan purposefully took the keys from the ignition and put them in his jacket pocket.

“Worth a try,” Kenny sighed dramatically. He continued, “So, how long was I out? An hour?”

The sun still shone outside, so at least he didn't sleep the day away.

“Try four,” Stan took an open Gatorade bottle from the drink holder.

“Four?!” Kenny gasped, twisting onto his stomach. “You let me sleep the whole fucking day? How can we go hiking if I’m asleep?” His hand grasped the door handle when Stan set a hand on his wrist.

“Dude, dude, dude, it’s fine. You needed it anyway.” Stan shook his head with a smile.

Kenny deflated before rolling back over. His shoulder blades pressed against the car door. The window handle stabbed into his back.

“But...the date...second base and all...” He trailed off, his mind going to the start of his dream.

“Second base?” Stan furrowed his brows. “What?”

“That’s why you wanted to go into the woods. Like you did with Wendy? To fool around?” Kenny’s shoulders slumped. “We could go now, but it’s afternoon, so there will be more people.”

Stan’s face went red. He shook his head. “N-no, no, that’s not my plan.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’d forgotten about that, actually.”

Kenny bolted straight, scraping his back against the door. “You forgot about the first time you groped boob?!” He was almost offended. How could anyone forget such an important milestone?

Stan hummed. “About that, I, uh, didn’t. Not completely.” Kenny fixed him with a confused look, so he went on, “She let me stick a hand up her shirt, but the second I touched her bra strap, I panicked and, um, didn’t go any farther.” He laughed nervously. “Don’t tell anyone, though.”

Kenny’s lips quivered. Snorts escaped his nose. He tried to hold it back, but the wave of laughter escaped nonetheless.

“Really? Really? Holy shit, dude! You went in for the long con on that lie. Remember how Clyde and I begged you to give an in-depth detail on how it felt? Did you just make all that up?” Kenny doubled over, holding his stomach. “Shut up, or were breaking up,” Stan threatened, shoving his hand over Kenny’s mouth. Even his ears were red now.

Kenny pushed Stan’s hand anyway. “Phew, ok, ok, I’m done.” He wiped away a tear. “Back on track, I really am sorry I fell asleep on you.”

Stan raised a shoulder. “It’s cool. You talk in your sleep by the way. Something about being happy and dying?”

Kenny pressed his lips into a line. He didn’t dare tell Stan about this dream in full. Years of dealing with his curse caused him to learn to appreciate it for what it was, a weird, unnatural secret that no one else needed to burden themselves with.

“Nightmare, I think.” Kenny shrugged back. “But it ended on a good note.” He pressed a kiss to Stan’s cheek. Stan wrapped an arm around his waist and hugged him.

Part of him wanted to stay in the front seat and keep snuggling the rest of the day, but the afternoon was so lovely, it would have been a crime to do so.

“I think,” Kenny said, reaching for the door, “I do what to go on that hike now”

#stenny #stan marsh #kenny mccormick #fanfiction #one-shot #south park

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