get back to work 👀

to the point where monoco is ignoring verso and challenges a wol (from ffxiv) to a duel in the hail

(monoco loses lol)

(cw: verso gets choked out and loses consciousness BUT ONLY FOR A FEW SECONDS HE'S FINE)

oops :x

a day later, on a totally not-date to a cafe. verso ordered a coffee and this was what he was given:

another day later... (they went on another adventure after the cafe. monoco got slightly caved in on underground so verso spent the rest of the night comforting him :x)

sorry it's not over yet;; monoco got another 2 dogs which brings him to a total of 5 at this point

this is the context for the marriage comment (ano is played by my friend):

so most of the time adventures are run sort of dnd-style, with random encounters and random items. 'letter from a loved one' happens to be a random item you can roll, so i got to decide how monoco is tortured \o/

some of us in the rp server also keep in-character opinion sheets on how certain characters feel about others (it also helps to have notes for reference) so i made an entry for how monoco feels about non-painted verso and here's one of them

Verso was trying not to think about it. He really was. But sometimes he’d look at Monoco’s hands - while he was polishing legs, or gesticulating or what have you - and he’d think about it. His traitorous, dumb horny brain would put the idea back in the front of his mind that if it was Monoco - ONLY because it was Monoco - then maybe it would be okay. Time and again, Verso would find himself laid bare, broken and vulnerable before Monoco, and Monoco would see him. Really see him. And every time, Monoco would accept all the parts of Verso he would rather keep hidden away from anyone else. If there’s anyone Verso could trust to help him get over his fear, then the choice is obvious. It’s just… It’s still the Lampmaster. And this is such a ridiculous way of dealing with it. Verso feels his face flush with shame just thinking about it. But after tossing and turning in bed for what seems like hours, Verso sits up and lets out a frustrated sigh. He reaches under his bed where he keeps the lube and the strap-on Monoco made for him, then shoves off his pants and underwear.

Ugh, why is he already half-hard?? He shouldn’t be at half-mast thinking about being held down by the fucking Lampmaster of all things, but- No, that’s not entirely it, is it. Verso is thinking about Monoco holding him down when he grips himself, hand slick with lube. He’s thinking about Monoco’s hands on him, roaming and gripping and restraining him as Verso feels himself getting harder. The hem of his sleep shirt is held in his mouth, muffling the pathetic, helpless noises spilling from Verso’s throat with every stroke.

Monoco would be gentle with him, as he always is when they try something new, unless Verso asks him not to be. He’d want Monoco to be gentle with this. He’d also like to hear Monoco’s voice as much as possible, to remind him that this isn’t the real Lampmaster, that the tangled mess of limbs and terror isn’t the same one that used to haunt Verso’s dreams. That if Verso can handle this Lampmaster, then he can handle any of them. Whining, Verso imagines Monoco encouraging him, praising him for doing well, and oh, Verso wants to do so well for him. He’s started to tremble now, both in fear and arousal, as he imagines letting Monoco hold his wrists hostage, hold his legs apart. It would only be too easy for something of the Lampmaster’s caliber to snap his bones like twigs, but he can trust Monoco with that power. He trusts Monoco with a lot of things. And for him to hold that power over Verso… He feels his whole body shudder.

Verso only stops to quickly lube up the fingers on his other hand, heat simmering to a boil deep in his belly. Shimmying a little further down the bed, Verso reaches in between his legs and presses a finger to his entrance, gently breaching himself with a muffled whimper. He knows that none of the Lampmaster’s hands are particularly small, so he’d probably need to prepare himself beforehand. God, he can imagine Monoco teasing him for being so eager, because of course he would. Verso grips himself tighter, moves his hand faster. He wants to surround himself in the low rumble of Monoco’s voice, the only constant he can cling onto to keep him steady in the thrashing storm of anxiety and pleasure.

One finger soon becomes two, and two becomes three in Verso’s rush to prepare himself - in hindsight, this might not have been the best angle to do it. This is how he could end up with hand cramps, but Verso is determined and horny and that is a DANGEROUS combination, but he can handle a little discomfort. He lets the idea of Monoco telling him how good he’s being guide his movements, starting to feel a little drunk with arousal. And also getting way too close to hurtling over the edge than he’d like to admit. He needs to- He needs to lube up the strap. It has to be the strap instead of the other toys he has that might better mimic a very large finger, because Verso is embarrassing and sentimental and pathetically in love with his best friend. Monoco made this for him after all, so he’s going to use it.

The initial press of the strap entering him has Verso’s voice twisting over an unintentionally loud moan, just barely muffled by the fabric of his shirt in his mouth. He has to hold himself by the base and squeeze hard to stave off the oncoming orgasm, his breath leaving him in harsh pants. What would Monoco’s fingers feel like, in that form? They would almost definitely be bigger than the strap Verso is currently sliding in and out of himself at a slow pace. He’d probably only be able to take one of them, honestly. Two is a very, very dangerous thought. It could very well break him, but Verso can’t help but whine at the idea as he starts to stroke himself again. Maybe Monoco would tease him with it, hold the offer over his head, only to keep it away from him. Maybe Monoco would threaten him with it. Dammit, Verso is getting way too turned on by this now. There’s something seriously wrong with him.

It’s not until he starts thinking about Monoco holding him by the waist and using that as leverage to pull Verso further down onto his finger that he starts moving faster, the strap in tandem with his other hand. He wants Monoco to praise him, to tell Verso how well he’s taking it, he wants Monoco to call him a good boy. He wants Monoco to tell him that it’s okay, that Verso is safe in his hands. He wants Monoco to call him ‘my dear.’ With a gasp, Verso’s orgasm hits him unexpectedly, embarrassingly fast. He has the strap pressed inside himself, as deep as he can get it while he squeezes himself to the last drop, his body curled up as if he’s trying to contain his shame into the smallest surface area as possible. When he eventually uncurls himself from his shrimp position, Verso’s face burns with the consequences of what he’s done, easing the strap out of himself with a helpless little whimper before looking down. At least the mess is only on his torso. And his shirt. Fuck. Well, he needs something to clean up with anyways, so Verso tugs his shirt over his head to wipe himself off before dropping it onto the floor next to his bed. He’ll do laundry tomorrow. But the strap, he needs to wash that when his legs stop shaking. 

Ugh, Verso can’t believe how completely Monoco has ruined him. Monoco probably knows too, that old bastard. The one that he loves. Fuck. Putain. Putain de merde. Every swear and curse he knows on this Gestral. This is all Monoco’s fault. Huffing out a sigh, Verso pulls on his pants and undies again. An early-morning trip to the bathroom isn’t suspicious, is it? He has a strap to wash.

His answer to Monoco’s suggestion is still a no for now, but maybe in the future… he could be convinced.

(this second part takes place the day after, i skipped past a bit after monoco gets home from another adventure)

oh nooo they're going to be stuck inside over the weekend because of a blizzard whatever are they going to do. i didn't actually write any smut for this part so just use your imagination///

this is the day after the blizzard stopped. monoco is going on an adventure with a new friend c:

sO this is what i mean by strange contexts. monoco and verso eventually become close friends with au versions of secunit and art (from the murderbot diaries) who are played by my buddies. they don't show up here but they will be mentioned here and there lol

art came by using a mini drone to help clean and make food for verso while monoco was out uvu/ they also have phones here, so verso and monoco were messaging each other throughout the day

the next day, after monoco went out and found a bunch of random shit in the forest

to! the! theater!

some more notes bc i will explode if i don't at least try to explain some things

essentially, there are 'dream copies' of them in this rp setting while they also still exist in their original worlds (so basically, verso is technically another verso and that's sort of the crux of his stress about this)

my headcanon is that when verso isn't feeling confident in his own identity, he doesn't like to be referred to as 'verso'

i also headcanon verso as a yapper during sex