#taking the prompt concept and stretching it reeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaal far

[thatwritingho]

Kloktober Day 8

Mermaids or Monster

Pairing: Relish, Toca — Toki and Blanca, Chickles if you squint Rating: Explicit Warnings: Choking Summary: What makes a monster? Pickles and Toki debate the morals of a plushie audience when getting intimate in their girlfriends' bedrooms. Background: Inspired by a discord joke! Big thanks to my friends @plvtosun, owner of Blanca Tennebris, and @inky-da-dinky for ideas!

READ ON AO3 HERE

Pickles was moping.

Freckled arms draped dramatically across the polished mahogany table as he flopped into his chair with a groan, the last one to join the group for their band meeting.

Late, as per usual.

With a deep breath to brace himself, Charles prepared to crack open the box, hoping inside would merely be a child’s block puzzle instead of a 1000-piece solid-white jigsaw.

“Pickles. Is, ah, something wrong”

The redhead groaned.

"It's stupid."

Oh no.

"I'm, ah, sure it's not."

"Alreet, fine... I was real high last night, and took too lahng turnin’ all the plushies. By the time I was done, Olive was caught up playin’ one a those fuckin' anime dating sims!"

Nathan slid the redhead a beer, brow furrowed in confusion, “...turning plushies? Uh. What?”

Heat rose to Pickles’ cheeks as everyone stared at him in question. Sitting up straighter, he cracked open his beer, dropping the bottle cap carelessly to the floor, and downed a long swig before answering.

“Well, um, yeah. Uh. Yanno. So dey, uh. Aren’t lookin’ at us when we’re bangin’.”

Toki gave him a strange look, “Whys?”

“What’dya mean, why? ‘cause it’s weird, dood! She’s gaht so many of the damn things, and they all jest sit dere n’ stare da whole time I’m poundin’ her ass. It– it’s awkward!”

“No ams not.”

“Yeh it is! I don’t wanna look up while I’m chokin’ her and make fuckin' eye contact wit' Hello Kitty!”

“It ams not, Pickle!”

“It is!”

“Nots!”

“Is!”

“Boys!” Charles interjected. This conversation was devolving quickly, and must be headed off now, lest it be allowed to venture further into the territory of ridiculous subject matter than it already had, “Can we, ah, please just begin this meeting?”

With a final glare, Pickles turned his attention to Charles, pretending he didn’t notice how Toki stuck out his tongue and pulled down his eyelid. The meeting drug on, Charles droning on about record sales and upcoming concert dates and blah blah blah, though Pickles’ mind was far from the meeting room. No, his mind was in Olive’s room…

…the lights were dimmed low and set to a pinky-purple hue. Olive was beneath him on her bed, laid out in a nest of pillows and soft black blankets, legs held up and spread, wild curls splayed out around her. A deep blush painted her pleasured face as he rolled his hips, grinding the strap into her nice and slow. As Pickles reached out, Olive tilted back her chin, allowing a freckled hand to seize her neck, his palm pressing soft against her throat as he squeezed the sides. Long, straight lashes fluttered, granting a small glimpse of adoring dark eyes.

“Please… need to– ahhh… C-can I– ”

Clutching tighter, he grinned down at her as she panted, moaning and squirming.

“Yehh, baby, c’mahn, cum fer m–”

Pickles cut off mid sentence, freezing.

A flash of white in his peripheral vision had drawn his attention, and Pickles made the mistake of glancing up. Now, here he was, hand around his girlfriend’s neck and strap in her pussy, while face to face — eye to beady little eye — with Hello Kitty.

“NYEHHH!”

His horny mid-meeting fantasy was dispelled by the little white cat, and Pickles came to with a shout. All eyes turned to him, and he swallowed thickly, face heating under their gazes.

“Uh. Heeey. Whet’s up, doods?”

“Pickles. What, ah, what seems to be the problem?”

Shrugging at Charles, Pickles attempted to shake it off, “Nothin’! Jest wasn’t paying attention is all. Shit’s boring as hell.”

Shooting him an unimpressed look, Charles sighed, “...anywa-”

“Pickle ams just upsets dats he didn’t gets no ass cause he’s too worried about turnin’s 'round the plushies.”

“...shaddup, Toki”

“See! Amns’t denies it! Ha!”

“Shaddup, Toki!”

“You worries too much, Pickle! De others night whens I was fuckin’s Blanca reals good like the doggies, I mades eye contacts with Cinnsamorolls right when I came.”

Various sounds of displeasure and disgust rang from his bandmates at that. Pickles’ eyes widened, mouth dropping as his face morphed into an expression of deep shock, horror, and disappointment.

“Toki! How could you?”

“Whats?”

“He’s innocent, yew monster! — yew should be ashamed of yerself!”

“Pickle! He amns’t real!”

Gasps sounded out across the table, his bandmates staring in shock.

Nathan was the first to break the silence, voice hesitant and disbelieving, “Toki… how could you?”

“Yeah, that’sch takin’ it too far.”

“Ja, you should apolgizacks.”

Green eyes narrowed, Pickles pointed an accusatory finger at Toki, his voice low, “Yew take dat back.”

Narrowing his eyes back, Toki met the drummer’s challenge, “Nos!”

“What’d da little guy ever do ta’ yew, huh?”

“Not’ins! I loves Cinnsamorolls! We haves lots of fun fuckin’s Blanca toget’ers!”

“Boys, boys, boys!” Charles pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, “That’s quite enough. Toki, you should apologize to Pickl-”

“Naht ta’ me!”

Charles raised a brow, exhaling a tired sigh, “...very well. Then who?”

“Ta’ Cinnamoroll. Duh.”

Leveling Pickles with a momentary stare of disbelief, Charles exhaled slowly through his nose, closing his eyes for a brief moment before turning his attention to Toki, “Ah. You should apologize to, ah, Cinnamon Rolls, was it?”

“Cinnamoroll!” five voices simultaneously rang out to correct his pronunciation.

“Ah. Very well. Cinnamoroll. Toki, apologize to Blanca's Cinnamoroll,” a thought occurred to Charles, then, "and, ah. Perhaps it would be prudent of you to not mention this around her."

“Ok, but... amns't just hims. Has also beens Luz, and Baphy, an-”

“-Pickles,” Charles continued, halting Toki before he began naming off all of his girlfriend's plushies. Again. “is turning them necessary?”

“Yeh! I don’t want ‘em ta’ se–”

“Well, what about a, ah, blanket to cover them? That’s faster.”

Blinking in thought, Pickles’ lips soon curled into a crooked grin, green eyes sparkling, “Charlie. Dood. Yer a fuckin’ genius.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest, heat creeping up his neck as his heart fluttered wildly, and Charles cleared his throat.

“Yes. Well. Ah. It is, ah, after all, how I cover them.”

All eyes in the room bugged comically, jaws dropping, and Charles couldn’t contain a small, smug smile, hiding it behind a sip of his beer as their voices rang out,

“You do it too??”