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cocodotgreen · 11 days

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Today is a big day: I am sharing my first world – “Simynthos” – with all of you! I’m very nervous about it, actually. It’s the first world I ever finished!

So what kind of world is it? It's inspiration, the island of Corfu, is one of the more northern islands of Greece. It is greener than the southern islands, and the architectural style is a bit different. It has surprisingly high mountains and cute little villages with tiny orange houses and narrow roads and pathways. It has olive groves with trees more than a thousand years old, and it has beaches with some of the clearest water I ever swam in. I tried to capture Corfu's atmosphere in this little world, so that my simmies may enjoy it, too! And now I hope, your simmies will enjoy it as well :)

To make it a “quick” project (still took more than a year, though 😬) I used the existing world “Sa Pineda” by the amazing @nilxis as a base. The island itself was not created by me, I only created the houses/lots and made over the vegetation.

Even though it is on a tiny map, it is a full world with several houses. It has almost all rabbit holes, and a lot for your sims to do – well, at least considering the sizes of the place. It can be a home world as well as a vacation world with Nraas Traveler mod (can be found here).

Other than my previous builds it does contain some CC. Most of it comes with the download, but not all (you will find all links to additional CC below).

If you would like a (almost) CC-free version, please message me! I will gladly try to make it look good without CC, if I know that someone wants that! However, you will always need the rabbit hole rugs if you want the rabbit holes! But I could remove all decorative CC and try to decorate with non-cc items.

I had a lot of fun building on this little island. I also learned a lot and I hope to use all the experience I gathered from this first completed project for my next world!

Details:

tiny map (256x256)

contains CC (most of it is included in the download, but not all. Links are provided for the items not included, see below in the “Links to CC…” section.)

no Store content used

road-less

unpopulated

9 finished residential lots

17 community lots

3 dive lots

two empty lots, one community, one residential

contains most rabbit holes. The ferry provides room for additional rabbit hole rugs in case you want to place some that are not included.

Packs used: I have all expansion packs and all stuff packs installed, and have probably used items from almost all of them.

Packs you will definitely need for full functionality: Island Paradise (for the Dive Lots, the Ferry, and the All-in-One Bathrooms), Late Night for the Bars, Supernatural for the Elixir Shop, World Adventures for the Nectar Maker and the Nectar Racks, University Life for the Coffee Bar, and Ambitions for the Salon and Tattoo Studio, Showtime for the Karaoke Machine, on one lot I used the grill from Outdoor Living Stuff.

I used a lot of furniture from the Seasons and the Pets expansions. This is non-functional, but the world will look different if you do not have these expansion.

A word of warning (please read this!):

This world is TINY! But for its size I packed A LOT into it. This means, however, that lots and buildings are on the small to tiny side. So not all game options may be available on all lots.

The Weather-Stone may not spawn due to lack of a suitable location.

There is some kelp visible from map view next to one of the dive lots. I could not find a way to remove it, unfortunately, although I tried everything I could think of. If it bothers you the workaround is this: Go into edit town, select build on the dive lot. Without doing anything leave build mode and leave edit town. Now the kelp should not be visible anymore for this in-game-session. You will have to do it over again the next time you start up your save, though.

The proximity to community lots will mean that you can hear the noise from concerts, movies and sports events or even just music very loudly on some residential lots. I recommend you turn down the volume of music and effects in the game options to around ¼ of the bar. You will still hear the sounds on the residential lots, but not as loudly.

I advise against playing with horses on Simynthos due to the limited space and the lag they can cause. See recommended mods section below for more details.

Snow may look black in some places, mostly on or near the paths due to me having to paint under the walkways I placed. Sa Pineda already came with 8 terrain paints. I decided not to change the terrain paint, as it was very nicely done by the creator, and also snow is probably a rare occurrence on Corfu. If you want to, you can just disable snow/winter in the options.

Highly recommended mods for performance and functionality:

TheSweetSimmer’s Pick Up Toddler Fix: If you want to play with families you will absolutely need this mod! Without it you may not be able to pick up toddlers at all due to the limited space inside some of the houses.

OhRudi’s space saving mods: I recommend all of ohRudi’s space saving mods for this world:

“Fix: Pets need less space”

“Fix: Sims need less space”

“Fix: Guitar needs less space for playing”

“Fix: Bass needs less space for playing”

Nraas Register: Horses will cause lag on Simynthos due to the limited space on the island and the extensive space that horses need for routing (even with ohRudi’s mod), so I recommend disabling horses in the game options and using nraas Register mod to deactivate wild horses completely.

Nraas Debug Enabler: The dive lots on Simynthos have the same problem that all dive lots seem to have: If you want to explore the caves, you will need to reset them first. If you forget your sim will be reset to the beach. Best way to do this is using Nraas “Debug Enabler” mod (click on cave > Nraas > Debug Enabler > Options: Name of Cave > Object > Reset).

Nraas Go Here: I generally recommend Nraas Go Here mods “Teleport for everyone” option, just in case a sim or a pet gets stuck somewhere.

Other recommended mods (optional):

You can have functioning Greek restaurants on Simynthos if you use these two mods together:

icarus_allsorts’s “Eat Outside Restaurants”

Cinderellimouse’s “Cooking and Ingredients Overhaul”

Both mods combined will allow you to set the menu for the diner or bistro rabbit hole to Greek dishes (or any other dishes you prefer) and order these dishes from a waiter on the lot. How cool is that?!

Links to CC that’s not included in the download:

You will need these Jynx rabbit hole rugs (Pets Fix), from this thread on MTS:

Late Night rabbit hole rugs (Pets fix)

Base Game rabbit hole rugs (Pets fix)

You will need the Left and Right versions of this mattress for two sims to sleep in a double bed that is placed against a wall.

I recommend you use @nilxis beautiful “Mediterranian Day” lighting mod.

Credits:

Thanks to @nilxis, the creator of „Sa Pineda“, for the beautiful base to this world. The island on which Simynthos was build is entirely their creation. I did not change the island itself or the terrain painting outside the lots (except for some places where I placed the walkways/paths). All credit for that goes to them! You can find the original version here. Also make sure to check out their other worlds, while you‘ re at it. They are some of my favorite worlds!

Thanks also to @aroundthesims for their amazing CC! If you do not know their website yet, you should definitely check it out! They have a lot of really cool items!

Thanks to @nornities for their extremely helpful CAW guide here. Unfortunately I only found this guide when Simynthos was almost finished. I could have avoided some of the mistakes I made, had I found it sooner!

Some of you may know, that I am not the first to make a Greek version of Sa Pineda. Back in 2016 Vendela created Simtorini. This super cute world has the typical blue and white houses another Greek island, Santorini, is famous for. Go check it out here.

Download (SimFileShare)

#sims 3 #sims 3 cc #sims3 #thesims3 #ts3 #ts3cc #the sims3 #ts3 worlds #sims3 world #sims 3 custom world #sims 3 worlds #sa pineda #simynthos

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hazbinhotelxreader · 8 months

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Mother Carmilla x gender neutral child reader

Words: 1.5k

“Let’s practice”

A/n: hii! Okay so I saw someone post that this would be a great image! So I decided to try it, (or course with permission)! So hope this is great!

(Idea from: lillonvia)

Info: Basically the reader is Carmillas youngest child, and is trying to learn how to use those shoes Carmilla has as weapons. Readers genderless so this is for everyone! Reader is between the age of 9-12

By the way I tried to make all the Spanish words masculine since it goes for all genders (usually)

Your mother, Carmilla Carmine, was an overlord dealer of the angelic weapons. Which also meant she was pretty much trained to use all the weapons she makes. Your older sisters, Clara and Odette, were also trained, not as much as your mother but still enough to defend themselves.

You ok the other hand, no. You being the youngest of the family made her more protective over you, even not letting you go to close to the weapons. It did make you feel left out.

Your sisters knew how to use the guns and some of the daggers, but those were never really your true interest, it was those ballet shoes your mother wore. Once your sisters told you what your mother did to that exorcist during extermination day with her shoes, you immediately thought it was cool.

You wanted shoes like that. Maybe some like your mother. Though you knew she’d never say yes, it was dangerous, or so you thought she’d say no.

Right now, you snuck into the room where she stored all the weapons. Cases of guns and daggers lined up neatly on the shelves, bullets on all the racks. You’ve never been in the room before, your mother never let you.

You started to look if there were any other shoes that your mother could have. You found some boots with them, they weren’t your size though, you were a kid and most of these clothes and weapons weren’t designed for children. You sigh as you keep looking.

Carmilla just so happened to be walking by to do a daily check on her progress, and you tensed and froze. I’m instinct, being the child you were, you hid. Hiding behind a large shelf that probably wasn’t a good idea to hide behind.

Carmilla walked in, her steps sharp and you could hear your mother’s steps. You hold your breath as she checked the room and weapons that were shipped in. You sighed in relief when she walked over to another area in the room, leaning over a little, but that made the shelf shake…and then it fell. You gasp and froze as the shelf crashed onto the ground.

Carmillas head snapped over to where the shelf fell and saw you. Her eyes narrowed as she walked over. “[Name]? What are you doing in here?” She asked in a stern voice, keeping herself from yelling or raising her voice at the fallen weapons and broken shelves.

“I-uh…” m, You struggled to speak. Carmilla stood up straight and crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at you and waiting for you to speak up. You sigh and stand up, your head down. “I just wanted to…learn how to use angelic weapons too..like how you and my sisters do..” You say softly.

Carmillas expression softens as she looks down at you and sighed. “Mi amor, do you truly want to use these? They’re dangerous and I’d hate for you to get hurt.” Carmilla said stern but soft.

“Pleeeeeeaaaase!! mamá I really want to! I’ll do anything” You beg your mother and gave her some puppy dog eyes to add to it. Carmilla let out a soft smile and held a hand out.

“If that’s what you want mi corazón..” You smiled back and took her hand. “But, if you want to use the angelic weapons, clean this up. Now.” Carmilla said more stern, pointing to the fallen weapons and the broken shelves.

You chuckle nervously and nod. “Yes mamá” you say and picked up all the angelic weapons. While your mother stayed and watched. She began to ask you a questions.

“Corazón? Which weapon would you like to use?” She asked you gently.

“Hmm? Oh! Uh, I was wondering if I could be taught how to use…shoes like yours?” You rubbed your arm, slightly embarrassed to admit.

Carmilla smiled softly at the response. Clara and Odette never wanted to learn how to use their legs to fight, they preferred blades. Her heart warmed at the thought of her youngest child taking after her. “Of course Mi querido, though I may have to make some of your size. So training will not begin so soon.”

You mentally sigh at that, you wanted to train right away, but knew you’d have to wait. You nod and smiled sadly. “Okay mamá..I can wait.” You say. She came over and pushed up the shelf for you.

“Thank you mi amor” Carmilla said and ruffled your hair a gently with her large claws. You giggle softly and finish putting the weapons in their places.

It took about 6 days for the shoes to be made, mainly since Carmilla wanted them to be more durable for you. She came and got you from your room. “[Name]? I’ve got you a surprise” She smiled and sat on the bed next to you, smiling softly with a box in her hand.

You smile and sit up, sitting next to your mother as she handed you the box. You open it and gasp and smile when you saw the same styled ballet shoes inside. They were like your mothers but just a smaller size. “ay dios mío- thank you mamá!!” You hugged your mother by the side and she smiled back.

“Of course Mi amor..now why don’t we try these on? And we can start practicing if you’d like.” She offered with a smile. You practically bounce up and down as you nod excitedly.

“Yes! I’d love to!” You just to your feet with the box, pulling the angelic shoes out and tossing the body on the ground to clean up later. Carmillas heart warmed up from how excited you were to use and train in those shoes, taking after her rather than using the more dangerous weapons like guns.

You both walk down the stairs, in the middle of the purple room. You looked around and smiled. Carmilla smiled down at you. “Alright [name], let’s put those on and I’ll teach you some ways to use them. But you must listen alright?” She spoke stern but soft.

You not and smile, putting the ballet shoes on (with a little help from Carmilla since you were struggling with the ribbons), and they fit snug. “Okay! I’m ready to kick some a-“ you stop your words when you saw Carmilla glaring at you softly for you almost cussing. You nervously laugh and calmed down.

Carmilla walked over and started to speak. “First of all, let’s get you better adjusted to walking in them. Stand on your toes.” She commands you gently. You nod and attempt to stand on your toes, though you only lasted about 2 seconds. “Try again.” Your mother stood near you, more firm now”

“Dang it..” you grumble softly as you failed again. Repeatedly, you fail over and over again, your mother demanding you to keep trying and trying. “This is too hard..” you complain a little as you became more and more frustrated.

“Patience Mi amor..you’re doing well..just keep trying. It’s all about practice.” Carmilla encourages softly and sternly. You nod and take a deep breath, trying again.

After a while you were able to hold yourself up for about a minute straight, you smiled and looked at your mom. “Look! I’m doing it!” Carmilla smiled softly at you and walked over.

“See? I told you that if you practice you’d get better..now try walking to me while standing on your toes.” She encouraged. “Like this” she walked across the room with ease, she held her arms out. “Soon you’ll be able to walk normally in them. And when you master that, I will teach you how to fight with them.”

You nod and smile, trying to stay motivated. You started to walk to your mother. Though you failed a lot, standing on your toes were hard, walking across the room on them…oof..even harder. But you did have you mother to encourage you along the way. You kept trying and trying and eventually did it, and you celebrated a little.

“Good job [Name]. Now we will practice more and more everyday. Just be patient alright my dear?” Carmilla told you, giving you a smile of approval.

“Yes mamá, I understand.” You smiled back excitedly.

“Good..then i will expect you to be wearing those all the time around the house to practice.” She nods and ruffled your hair gently, walking away to do her duties.

You smiled and nodded at your mother. “You got it!”. You were excited to keep practicing, you were determined and motivated to train and impress your mother. You knew it would be long, but it would be worth it.

A/n: hi! Hope this was good! If I get comments for part 2 I could make it.

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giuliettagaltieri · 9 months

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Dance of Mutual Seduction

Pairing: Husband!Gojō x Wife!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Gojō Satoru is only a man.

Warning: pointless overthinking, deflowering, explicit smut, p in v, unprotected sex, hints of dub/con, mild somnophilia, breeding, size kink, corruption kink

Word Count: 1918

6 of 9

Gojō feels like he is being watched.

He turned around as he brushed his teeth but found nobody there.

His eyes narrow, straining to see if someone dared to lay tricks in his own home. But he found none.

Was it you?

The man bent to his right to steal a quick peek at you from the bathroom doorway, but you are exactly where he left you, in your vanity, still staring at nothing in particular with your brows twisted in deep concentration.

Gojō finishes up in the bathroom and joins you in the vanity to snatch his phone from where it rested next to your parfums.

Upon seeing him from the mirror, you hastily grab your hairbrush, just so you would appear to be doing something relevant with your time, and not just staring on the empty space.

“Someone seems distracted today.” Gojō says without looking at you, as he was checking his phone.

Ignoring his statement is the safest path you can follow.

You flinch when a droplet from his arm comes sliding down your neck. “Gojō-sama, let me dry you?” You sigh at him and he nods, his eyes still stuck on his screen.

“Problem?” You ask as you lean back on the vanity to rub his head with a towelette.

“Nah.” He says and you drop the topic.

“Dry yourself right after the moment you step out of the showers next time, please.”

Gojō smiles at you briefly and places his phone by the vanity. “I’ve been doing this since I was a child. I’ll be fine.” He closes his eyes as you wipe his cheekbones and jaw.

You don’t respond, lips only forming the smallest of pouts.

“Fine. I’ll dry myself after showers next time.” He says with his smile bleeding into his voice.

A smile too graces your lips and you proceed to wipe at his torso. Gojō watches you like a bird of prey, watching and waiting for the moment you will hesitate and break. But it does not happen.

Truth be told, your proximity and the unsecured way you tied your robe was doing something to him instead.

Gojō followed the soft jiggle of your bosom and his breath hitches.

“Are you alright, Gojō-sama?” You asked worriedly. Your hands pull at his forearms to bring him closer so you can look at his face.

Much to your surprise, Gojō slips from your hold and heads straight to his closet and you can only tilt your head to the side as he fires curses after curses, you even heard muffled screaming.

He comes out a moment later with his clothing askew and his hair sticking out to every direction, as if it had been gripped with frustration.

“I have to go train the new guards. I’ll be busy the entire day, don’t look for me.” He said in one breath and he saw himself out.

You are left standing there by your vanity, the damp towelette still in your hands.

Have you done something to upset him?

Were you too forward?

Or perhaps…you gasp loudly, almost in indignation.

Does his affections lean not to the opposite sex?

You cup your mouth as you pace around your room.

He formed a really close friendship with the rogue sorcerer in high school. Also, he was not discreet in his interest in a lot of feminine matters.

Oh no. This is not good. What are to become of the heirs that your clans expected you to make?

Should you perhaps try to act more masculine? You fall on the chair with your mind not being able to keep up with your thoughts.

No.

You shall use your feminine wiles.

This is what you were trained to do.

Nevermind your husband not being interested in women. You will entice him to bed you. You swear it!

Oh, but how should you do that? You received lessons but you were never able to put them into practice.

You will die of embarrassment should you fail to succeed in seducing him.

In the planes farthest from you in the estate house, Gojō has his own hand clutching his jaw.

His thoughts were not irrational, he is certain of it. It is expected between a married man and woman. You will have to consummate your marriage with him sooner rather than later.

But you were young, and so bright-eyed, believing like nothing in the world could go wrong.

Will he dare to ruin your innocence?

A fighting dummy to his right receives the blow for the unanswered question, making it crumble to a heap of hardwood on the ground.

The men who were to spar with your husband unconsciously take a step back, a drop of cold sweat seeping from their foreheads.

You were pacing in your shred chambers the entire day.

Fixing any imperfections, adding more aromatic oils that more and more dulls your senses.

You have gotten tired of pacing from where you stand and then to the vanity that you have gone to and started holding a hand mirror to fix a hair that was astray or to wipe at any moisture that dared to ruin the powder of colors on your face.

When the sun started to retire, you had already gone and exhausted yourself, enough to make the bed appear so enticing that you simply had to lie in it.

Your body that was still covered by the robe was sprawled on the bed, your hand finding your husband’s pillow on its own.

And it was how Gojō found you.

In the middle of your matrimonial bed, hair spreading like a curtain under your head, chest peeking out of your robes as you curled around his pillow.

And his resolve melts.

You are woken up with the bed dipping, and immediately you are smothered by the smell of your husband’s sweat and musk.

Your thighs clench involuntarily.

“Gojō-sama?” You ask sleepily but his only response was his nose skimming your cheek while his battle-hardened hands work their way inside your robes, his coarse palms finding the globes of your ass.

Your mewl was swallowed by his lips.

“My name’s fucking Satoru.” He groans against your lips.

It was difficult to comprehend everything when your senses were under an onslaught of stimuli.

His arm snakes under your shoulders, his hand gripping your nape to pull you closer. The heat between your legs flows freely as his large fingers prod at your delicate flower.

“Let me have you.” Gojō groans against your chest.

Your hands rake through his snowy hair as you nod frantically.

“P-please!” It came out more desperate than you would have wanted, but his boyish chuckle made you fall in a trance, you wanted to hear it for eternity.

You cannot believe you have gone through the trouble the entire day, thinking he would not be interested when he is worshiping your body in ways that would make the goddess Aphrodite blush.

Your husband’s mouth was not only adept for spouting quick wit but also in making you reach the highest of heights. It felt like falling and floating at the same time.

When he hovers over you, everything comes to a standstill as his tip catches on your entrance.

Gojō was murmuring apologies after apologies against your shoulder as his length fills your tightness. You were seizing up to him, mouth filled with garbled discomfort as you choke on your sobs.

It was not at all like the heaven his mouth and fingers gave you.

This was painful, and so utterly filling, he had you stretched to your limit around him.

Your tiny hands pound on his broad back, feet kicking up the air by his sides.

Tears stained your pretty cheeks as your hair stuck to the moisture of your face and neck.

Gojō groaned out promises, that it will all feel good, that he will take care of you. And his hands find your hips, his fingers almost bruising your warm supple flesh. Gojō’s mouth parts as he rolls his hips against you. Feeling your twitching walls, like warm wet velvet wrapped around him.

Your breath hitch with every sharp thrust and Gojō falls numb to everything else. His nose flares as he takes the deepest breath as if just surfacing from the clutches of the waters so deep. It almost scares you how his hands cup under your knees and push them till your thighs meet the softness of your belly and chest.

And when Gojō crushes you under his weight from wanting nothing else but to cram his cock into your insides, your eyes cross with your brows scrunched so prettily, lips parting with a choked gasp.

Gojō’s hooded eyes stare at your face as he fills you again and again, the muscles of his thighs rippling with every pound of his thickness inside which almost curves just to force itself to fit. A shiver runs through your spine as your slick spurts out with every thrust, coating his thighs as it meets your swollen lips, dampening the bedding as it drips down when he pulls back just so he can shove it back in.

You were losing your mind, body writhing under the mass that was your husband. You can tell that he too was feeling what it was that is overcoming you. You have never heard him breathe as fast, as ragged, never, not even in the fights you have witnessed. But right now, his eyes were all scrunched up, mouth parted as he almost heaved. He did not look at all different from a man drunk with pleasure.

“N-not deep enough.” He groans out, annoyance marring his face.

You had no idea what he meant, he was as deep as physically possible. You were about to protest when he smacks a palm on your bum, leaving you whimpering before he hikes your legs up until your feet rested on his shoulders and he drops his weight on you, squeezing your thighs in between your bodies.

Your mind cannot comprehend how Gojō was able to fit himself further, filling you so so deep with his girth.

With the lewdest scream that ever graced Gojō’s ears, your orgasm washes over you like a shower of molten gold, lighting every vein aflame. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your hands scramble to his arms, searching for something to anchor yourself into in fear that you might explode into little stars. You gasp, clawing at his back as your tiny cunt flutters around him, making it impossibly tight.

Gojō seethes, his own breath hitching as he attempts to roll his hips but his tip starts spewing his thick seed against your plump cervix. The tightness forced his cum to seep from the crevices and leak to your bum.

And exhaustion overwhelms you. Your eyelids feel heavy, it felt like such a burden to keep them open. Your hands lay limp against the mattress, and your thighs, still squashed between your sweaty bodies, your feet still hung on the air as your husband catches his breath against your chest.

It was as if he was breathing you in, like his head rewired itself and was asking for you and had forgotten about air.

You cannot bring yourself to blame him, at this moment, air be damned, all you wanted was to be smothered by your husband. With your hearts and breath in sync, bodies still joined and nectar flowing as sleep slowly carried you away.

Where the Blue Roses Grow

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojō satoru #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru smut #arranged marriage #where the blue roses grow

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gilverrwrites · 8 months

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Takeout Tuesday

Pairing: Human!Castiel/Fem!Reader (Season 9)

Reader has AFAB body parts, hair long enough for pulling, & feminine pronouns’ are used.

A follow-up/sequel too If you will have me, I am yours. But can 100% be read as a stand alone.

Plot: The reader fulfills Castiel's fantasy of reenacting a porno he once watched. (AKA Clarence the pizza-man & the babysitter)

Rating: M/18+

Words: 3138 (all smut)

Content: Porn without plot, roleplaying, Dominate Cas, cheesy porno dialogue, kitchen sex, dirty talk, degradation, name-calling, rough sex, hair pulling, spanking, clothed man/naked woman, teasing, doggy-style, denial/edging, oral (female receiving), bodily fluids, size difference (slightly), begging, choking, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, swearing.

Excerpt: You force yourself not to cringe at the cheesy dialogue as you make your offer; “Maybe I could pay you with my body?” “That would be acceptable.” He responds curtly, taking a decisive step forward, into the doorframe of your shared apartment.

You checked the time on your phone; 19:45. It was Takeout Tuesday, and Cas should be home any minute. Normally he’d be home by 2, and it was your job to pick up dinner after your own shift finished at 6. But someone had no call, no showed, and ever the Samaritan; Cas had stayed late to help out. He’d called you on his break to let you know he would be home late, and that he would grab food on the way back.

The sound of knocking on your front door made you jump. Careful to remain quiet, you made your way over, stopping to grab your gun on the way. Carefully you pressed the firearm to the door and leaned up to look through your peephole. Hunter instincts never really die.

Relieved and confused, you lower the gun and unlock the door, finding Cas on the other side. Your confusion only increased as you realised he was not dressed in his normal button-up and blue vest. Instead, he was dressed in a red and black polo and cap, and holding two large pizza boxes, all bearing the logo of your local pizza shop.

“Cas, I… I don’t know what to ask first.” You wondered aloud. “Where are your keys? Why are you dressed like that?”

“I do not understand.” Cas stated, tilting his head, and narrowing his eyes. You would almost believe him, were it not for the quiver in the corner of his lip. He was holding back a smile. “My name is Clarence. I am here to deliver your pizzas.”

“Ooooh, right!” You nod hesitantly, a smile sneaking onto your face. You recall a conversation about sexual fantasies, in which Cas had expressed wanting to reenact a porno he’d once seen in which a babysitter had paid for pizza with sexual favours. You stepped back into your hall, simultaneously returning your gun to its designated spot, and pretending to search for your purse. Purposefully arching your back and sticking your out your ass as you acted out searching through drawers and countertops.

“I’m really sorry, Clarence.” You say, trying to make your voice sound airy and sexy; rejecting the urge to laugh at yourself. You return to the door where you begin to trail your hand up your body slowly, directing Cas’s eyes over your curves as you move upward until you loop a finger in your hair and begin twirling it. “I don’t have any money to pay you.”

“That is unfortunate.” Cas responds. His tone is serious and deliberate, but the pink in his cheeks, the way he sucked in his lips, and the growing bulge in his pants told you he was enjoying himself.

“Maybe I could pay you another way?” You ask, batting your lashes at him as you continue to play with your hair. You internally pray no neighbours are passing through to overhear you.

“What would that be?” He asks, unable to prevent himself from nodding, urging you to continue in your little roleplay.

You grin at him, leaning forward and fiddling with the top of your shirt, pulling it down to try and expose some of your cleavage. You force yourself not to cringe at the cheesy dialogue as you make your offer; “Maybe I could pay you with my body?”

“That would be acceptable.” He responds curtly, taking a decisive step forward, into the doorframe of your shared apartment.

You briefly contemplate teasing him, telling him to leave the pizza and come back later, once you’d put the imaginary children you were supposed to be babysitting to bed. But the thought passed quickly, he might actually play along, and you were horny, and hungry, but mostly horny. You did not want to wait.

“Please, come in.” You tell him, stepping back to allow him full access. He quickly passes you. The apartment is small, the front door leads directly into a joined kitchen and living room. The only other rooms are your bedroom and the bathroom. In a few strides, Cas is already standing in the kitchen area where he deposits the pizza boxes on the counter and turns to watch you. You stare right back, taking him in. His shirt is just slightly too tight, drawing attention to the shape of his chest. His arms look thick and strong protruding out of the too-small sleeves. Heat tingles through your body as you watch him cup himself over his jeans, readjusting his growing erection.

“Do you like what you see?” He asks you, his lips stretching into a mischievous smirk.

You nod, locking the door and following him into the kitchen. As you approach, he reaches for you, his hands firmly wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. A hand snakes under your shirt, and you enjoy his warm, gentle touch as he slides it up your spine, guiding your upper body in close so he can plant his lips on yours.

It starts slow and tentative. The brim of his cap rubs against your head as he delicately ghosts his mouth against yours. The kiss quickly grows heated, his lips pressing ever harder against yours. Knees growing weak, you grab onto his shoulders as you open your mouth up for him to explore, and in return his other hand cups the back of your head, locking you in place as he delves his tongue into you.

You trail one hand down his chest until you reach his belt and begin to unbuckle him. He groans into your mouth, savouring the moments before clamping a hand around yours and pulling you away. Pouting, you break away from the kiss to look up at him. He returns your questioning gaze with a stern one. He places one last kiss on your lips before locking his fist in your hair and pulling you away from him.

“If you behave, I might give you what you want, but right now you have a job to do.” He taunts, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips. You’re about to ask him what he wants, but he beats you to the punch, releasing your hair as he instructs you. “Take off your clothes.”

“Yes sir!” You respond before correcting yourself. “Yes Clarence.”

Castiel hums appreciatively as he watches you undress. Unable to keep his hands off you, he begins assisting. Making quick work of your bra and kicking your jeans across the floor once you get them off. Your face grows hot as he holds you in place, his eyes unabashedly raking across your body, taking in every inch of you.

“How would you like to use my body?” You question.

“I want to kiss every inch of it.” He answers matter-of-factly before doing just that. Pushing your back against the kitchen counter he starts pressing passionate, open-mouthed kisses against your jawline, his tongue traces over your skin as he works his way down your neckline, over your collar, your chest. He holts momentarily over your breasts, giving them extra attention. He catches a nipple between his lips and rolls his tongue against it. Your body jerks at the sensation, and his muffled laugh serves to fuel the sensation. Strong fingers replace his lips, both hands roaming your body before attaching to your breasts as he lowers his head further.

“Hmmm, you like that?" He asks as he drops to his knees and you let out a breathy pant in response. You’re rapidly losing composure as he peppers more kisses over your stomach, and hips. The rough texture of his hat brushes your thighs as he situates himself between your legs. His breath is warm against your core, and you thrust yourself closer to him. He places one last chase kiss on your folds before leaning back to look up at your flushed face.

His hands release your chest and gesture to the small dining table in the centre of the kitchen area. “Bend over.”

You’re barely able to open your mouth to complain before he interrupts. “Don’t whine. Do as you’re told.”

You remain silent as you follow his order. Unable to refrain from frowning at him while you cross the small space and angle your body against the table. Cas is on you before you’re able to finish adjusting yourself. He slips his feet between yours to nudge your legs apart. Firm hands settle in on the curve of your back, directing you to arch your rear out.

“You have been a very naughty babysitter.” He growls.

You wiggle your ass at him as you respond. “Are you going to punish me?”

You hear the slap of his hand coming down on your ass cheek before you feel the sting.

“Yes.” His voice is solemn, and you barely have time to think of a response before his hand comes down on you again. You moan out in pain and unconsciously clench your hands around the edge of the table as you brace yourself for the next hit. Cas hesitates slightly, taking a moment to caress your reddening skin before reeling back to deliver another smack. You moan out again and again with each blow. Your head growing fuzzy, unable to think of anything but the heat pooling between your legs, and the stinging of your butt.

When Cas pokes two fingers between your folds you flinch, not expecting the sensation. He runs his fingers up and down, collecting the wetness before retreating. Lazily you stretch your neck back to watch as he brings them close to his face for inspection. You expect him to taste it, he’s never been shy about his affinity for your wetness or cum before, so you’re surprised when he looks over at you with a devious glint.

“I think you’re enjoying this too much.” He says as he leans over your slumped frame and presses his fingers to your lips. Following his lead, you open up, allowing him to push his fingers into your mouth, to rub your wetness against your tongue. It's sharp and bitter, but you close your mouth around him and suck until his fingers leave your mouth without wet pop. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

That felt like a trick question. Any semblance of an answer is immediately lost when you feel him grind his crotch against your backside. When you don’t respond, he continues. “Do you like this? Being bent over, and spanked like a filthy whore?”

The words sound so outlandish, coming out of Cas’s mouth. Castiel, (former) angel of the lord, calling you a whore. Outlandish, but so fucking hot.

Unsure if he’s warning, or chastising you, he pulls his body back and lands another strike on your cheek.

“Fuck. Yes!” You cry, jolting back, pushing your ass against his crotch again.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I like it!” You stare forward, unsure if you could look at him without breaking again. “I like being spanked like a filthy whore.”

Castiel rewards you by placing a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades. His voice is hoarse as he leans up and whispers. “Then we shall have to find another way to discipline you.”

You might regret asking, but that doesn’t stop you. “What did you have in mind?”

Strong arms lift you; Cas turns you to face him and paces you back onto the table in a seated position before dropping to his knees and maneuvering your legs over his shoulders.

“Keep your hands behind your back.” He instructs, and the moment your arms are locked behind you he delves in, dislodging his cap along the way. He presses his tongue flat against your clit and licks at it mercilessly. A finger inches up your thigh, and circles your entrance before plunging in.

You want nothing more than to grip his hair, to use it for purchase as you rub your cunt against him, but you can’t. The added challenge of remaining positioned only adds to your growing frustration. The synchronised feel of his finger fucking into you, and his tongue lapping at your sweet-spot has you panting.

“Holy fuck. Don’t stop, please.” You muster, trying and failing to buck in rhythm with him. “That feels so good Cas, Cas, Ca- Clarence.”

He murmurs something incomprehensible between your lips and the vibration has you coming undone. Your muscles seize, your legs shoot out, and your head rolls back as you approach your climax. No sooner has it started when Cas pulls back, releasing you completely.

Your mouth falls open, ready to ask him why he stopped, ready to beg him to come back, to finish you off but all that escapes your lips is a frustrated groan.

“Don’t worry.” Cas assures you, re-adjusting his hat as he stands up. His arousal is evident from his blown-out pupils and the playful smile on his lips. He cups your face between his hands and pulls you in to rest a kiss on your hairline. You don’t miss the chuckle he tries to suppress. “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

“Are you going to fuck me, Mr Pizza-man?” Your voice is barely a whisper. “Please?”

“You would enjoy that, wouldn’t you?” It’s not really a question. “You’d like me to bend you over again and stretch you out like a needy slut. You’d liked like me to fuck you right here, wouldn’t you?”

You shiver at his words and reach up for him, wrapping your arms around his neck to draw him closer.

“Yes.” You speak between languid kisses to his jaw, and neck. “Please, please Clarence. I would do anything to feel your cock inside me.”

“I thought you might. You naughty girl.” He states, grasping your wrists and pulling you away from him. “Turn around.”

It’s an order, but you needn’t act. Using your arms and hips for purchase Cas flips you back over. Fresh waves of excitement shoot through your body as you hear his belt and zipper opening. Your breath hitches when you feel the head of his cock at your entrance. He doesn’t make you wait for it, pushing through your lips and bottoming out in seconds. A low moan escapes him as he does so.

“You don’t cum until I say so.” He commands as you both adjust. The feel of his dick stretching your walls out makes you feel lightheaded. You whimper your response and begin rocking your hips, urging him to start fucking you. Your motion is halted when you feel his hand in your hair. With little warning, your head is whipped back. “Your body is mine. I will decide when and how to use it. You’ll be fortunate if I let you cum at all. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You answer hastily, you suspect you look like a deer in the headlights.

“Since you seem to want this so badly, beg for it.” You’re not sure which is more telling to your enjoyment of his dominance. The way your pussy twitches around him, or the involuntary cry you let out.

“Please… Please Mr Pizza-man, use my pussy.” You begin, through shaky breaths. The excruciatingly slow pump of his body pushing against yours encourages you to keep going. “Use me however you please, I want you, I want to make you cum.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Cas pulls back and slams back into you harshly, hand still firmly latched in your hair, keeping you in place as he begins pounding into you, riding you from behind.

Still on edge from his previous assault, it isn’t long before you felt an orgasm approaching again.

Knowing you won’t be able to fend it off for long you speak up. The jolt of Castiel’s thrusts causes your words to be punctuated by involuntary moans. “Cas, I’m. so. close. Please, I’m. gonna- “

“Not yet.” He barks. A moment later he tightens his grip on your hair, forcing you further back until you're close enough for him to lock a hand around your neck.

Fingers squeeze either side of your throat and you fear you’ll lose your resolve any second.

For stability, and to try to distract yourself from the growing tension in your cunt, you hold onto his arm. As if determined to make you suffer, Cas slows his speed, focusing on deliberate, torturous thrusts that fill you up and hit all the right places.

Gurgled cries fall from your lips, attempts to beg for your release, but nothing is intelligible. Unable to move, to breathe, or to think straight, all you can think of is the orgasm you’re barely holding at bay. The pressure of your fingers around the arm holding you by your neck is sure to leave bruises. And then it happens.

“Now.” He releases his grip on your hair and slides his hand to your folds, erratically pawing until he finds your clit.

You didn’t really need the extra assistance. You fall apart in an instant, your walls convulsing around his cock, as your body rides the high. Your already tingling, pulsing cunt tightens when you feel the warmth of Castiel’s cum spilling inside you. Low, lethargic hums leave his chest as his thrusts grow sluggish and strained.

Spent and panting, Cas lets his hands relax, electing to rest them on your waist as he pulls you in, back to his chest for an embrace. His softening cock dislodges as you move together, and you feel his cum trickle out. You elect to ignore it for now, enjoying the hug, and the delicate kisses he places to the back of your head.

“Do you understand why the pizza-man spanked the babysitter now?” You asked.

The rumble in Cas’s chest as he laughs tickles your skin. “Yes. That was exceedingly enjoyable. How was it for you?”

“That was, amazing.” You concede, turning in his arms until you’re able to rest your face against his chest. He’s smiling down at you, blue eyes filled with admiration. “I should order pizza from Clarence more often.”

“If that is what you want.” Now that he has a clear view of it, you can see him examining your neck. You’ve no doubt it’s still red, but you doubt it’ll be bruised, at least, not half as much as your ass. “We should get you cleaned up.”

“Good idea.” You reach up onto your toes and kiss him on the lips. On impulse, you also decide to steal the godforsaken cap from his head and place it on your own before backing towards the bathroom. “Put those pizzas in the oven to reheat, then meet me in the bedroom?”

Cas nods, seemingly unbothered by your thievery as he watches you go. You’ll have to ask him where he got the costume from later. You ask him one last question as you reach the bathroom door. “So, was there ever a sequel to this porno?”

#castiel x reader #castiel reader insert #castiel #supernatural reader insert #supernatural imagine #supernatural fic #castiel smut #castiel fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural smut #human castiel/reader #human castiel #gilverrwrites

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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The Man 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Mr. Hansen,” you eke out as you pad after Lloyd.

“Did I tell you to speak?” He grumbles.

You walk with an arm across your chest and your other hand hiding your vee, “no, but I forgot my phone in the car--”

“You don’t need it,” he tosses over his shoulder as he leads you to the staircase, the steps wide and polished.

“Hm, guess I wouldn’t have pockets for it anyhow,” you comment as you follow him up, uncertain what else to do.

He growls and says nothing else. You see the tension in his shoulders and clutching in his hand, balling and unballing at his side. He tilts his head slightly as if talking to himself, gesturing slightly in his unspoken monologue. He seems stressed. You might be too if you had a hostage. Hostage may be a generous term; you’re not worth much of a bargain.

He pushes through a door so hard it nearly thwacks the wall behind it, stopped only by the resistance of the hinges. You stop in the doorway as he crosses the spacious office and nears the sleek glass top desk. You take in the decor, all of it shiny and modern. He’s got a good eye. Or hired somebody with one.

He sits in the white leather chair and puffs, his feet set wide as he scowls. His arms drape over your sides and he narrows his sights at you. You try to make yourself smaller as your nakedness sets you on fire.

“What the hell are you waiting for?” He snarls.

You smile sheepishly and step inside slowly, “er, I’m wondering that too--”

“Get over here,” he points between his knees.

“Oh, okay,” you giggle nervously and cross to the desk, coming around stand beside him.

“What the hell are you doing? Get underneath,” he flicks your arm and you wince with a hiss. “Gotta train that mouth right so let’s get going.”

You furrow your brow and the corners of your mouth tug down. He’s so gross. He lifts his chin and stares up at your defiantly.

“Got something to say, cause what I want you to do with that mouth has nothing to do with chatting, sweet lips,” he reaches up and drags a finger across your lips and pokes between them.

You turn away, swatting him as you back up.

“Hey,” snaps and points in your face, “watch yourself. The hard my dick gets, the thinner my patience.”

You curl your lip and repress a shudder. You can still taste him. Gross. He didn’t even let you wash your mouth out.

You reluctantly back up and tread around the other side of the desk. He leans back and undoes his fly. You hold your breath as you try to repress every comment that flits across your mind. It will all be easier if you just be quiet. Just get it over with. And it wasn’t that bad, the end was just a bit icky.

You close your eyes and lower yourself with a tortured strain in your cheek. Stop thinking about it. If you don’t think and just do, then it won’t be so weird. You open your eyes to dip under the desk and crawl beneath the glass.

He pumps himself with his hand and you grimace. You get closer, staring down his... little monster. Little... you suppose it’s a good size. I mean, he could be in one of those videos you’ve seen on the internet. And yet, some of the men you’ve seen in those aren’t exactly hunks.

You gulp and snort through your nose. Stop. It’s not funny. It’s just weirdly flesh and the veins that stick out are distracting.

He brings his other hand down to grab your chin and forces you closer with a growl. You nearly smack your head off the edge of the desk’s frame.

“Laugh one more time,” he warns.

You seal your lips as he aims his tip at your mouth. You make yourself open up and stretch around him. The sensation of his smooth, slightly ridged skin presses to your tongue, and he pushes you deeper. He hits your reflex and you twitch, letting out a gag. He holds you there and you kick your feet, clawing at his pants.

He lets you up and shoves you back down. He drags you along his length as slobber smears around your mouth and you puff through your nose. The motion makes you dizzy and your throat burns as he forces his way in.

Your hand drifts further up beneath his shirt and you feel the hard muscle of his stomach. A fleeting thought flickers in your mind as you spread your fingers wide across his middle. You try to slow him down but he’s relentless.

You swirl your tongue around his tip as he eases you back and he flinches, letting out a whine. You do it again. It must feel good as his grip loosens on you. You drag your hand down and graze along a wrinkle in the top of his slack pants. He groans.

Slowly you feel him relaxing. That’s better. The pressure in your neck lessens and you flutter your fingers along his hand. He lets go of his base and you brush along his sack. He grunts again, clutching the arms of the chair. You tickle as he squirms and grip his tightly. You’ve seen lots of videos.

You stroke him in time with your mouth. You feel his control dissolving as you take over. For once in your life, you feel powerful. It’s like a joystick and you can make him do whatever you want.

“Toots, hold on,” he breathes, “you’re gonna--- not again--”

You stop and pop your lips off him abruptly. You angle your head to look at him through the desk and see how his cheek ticks and he furrows his nose. He sucks in air and holds it in. He lets out a drone.

“Shit, you almost—almost got me,” he utters, “you gotta slow your roll, cheeks.”

You slant your mouth and arch your brows. Suck my dick. Don’t suck my dick. Just like one minute, he hates you and the next he’s snatching you up. He’s as whimsical as a rainstorm.

“Don’t give me that look,” he sighs and sits back again, “just--” he shows a palm, “slow. I wanna savour it, sweet lips. You should too.”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble #series #au #mob au #the man #the gray man

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impale-me-radio-daddy · 4 months

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The Lookalike (Part 8)

☒ Summary: The first thing you remembered after your death was an argument. “No, this isn’t one of my fucking sluts.” The man behind you exhaled, frustrated. “This is a present for you. Something to help you work through your Alastor fixation.” You awaken in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Unfortunately for you, you immediately fall into the clutches of his nemesis, then into the arms of the Radio Demon himself.

☒ Warnings: hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, crying!reader, they/them pronouns used, Alastor X reader, explicit content, tentacle sex, bottom!Alastor, reference to drugs, reader is in Hell for a reason, canon typical scenarios.

☒ Series Links: Part I Part2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 6 BONUS SCENE Part 7 Part 9 Epilogue

Ever since Niffty had mistaken an expensive cock ring for an insect and attempted to kill it, the duty of cleaning Angel Dust’s room had been solely yours. You traipsed down to his wing of the hotel, pushing the cleaning and laundry hamper in front of you, and after a cursory listen and knock on the door, you went in.

You’d worked a few different jobs in your mortal life, and more than a few of them had been janitorial. You knew the drill; stripping and changing out the bedding, emptying the bins and cleaning any surface that looked soiled. Angel’s pet pig Fat Nuggets followed you from point to point, and you stopped sporadically to bend down and scratch the critter behind the ears.

When Angel Dust returned, you were scrubbing the floor of the shower, thinking of a time you’d butchered a kill in a similar space; the tray not wide enough to properly lay out the body horizontally. People such as yourself were, out of necessity, not squeamish. It had been hard to get the blood out of the grouting, and whatever Angel had left in the shower was giving you similar grief.

“Hey, Stunt Double! Ya in there?” called Angel as he walked in, dumping his bag on the bed.

You backed out of the bathroom, cleaning tools still in hand, and smiled at him. “Hello, Angel.”

“So it is you cleaning this place.” Angel tilted his head as Fat Nuggets emerged from the bathroom behind you to greet him, and he picked up the pig in his arms. “I was wonderin’ who was puttin’ all my butt plugs in size order.”

“I could do them by color, if you prefer,” you offered, pulling another bottle of cleaning fluid from the trolley, and Angel laughed.

“Neah, size is fine.” He flopped back onto his bed, arms splayed. “Man, I am beat.”

“Should I come back later?” you asked, but Angel just shook his head.

“Just do what you gotta,” he said. “It’s what they pay ya for.”

You gave a noise of surprise. “You have money in Hell?”

Angel lifted his head. “You’ve been here how long and don’t know that?”

You shrugged, heading back into the bathroom with more bleach. “People usually just give me things.”

“What happens when no-one wants to give you what you want?”

You took a couple steps backward into Angel’s room again. “Give me your phone for half an hour.”

“What?” He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Because,” you said, reaching into your pocket. “If you do, I’ll give you this baggie of mysterious white power I found in your room last week before Charlie searched it.” You dangled the drugs in front of Angel with a flourish. You had found them inside the cistern whilst fixing the toilet.

Angel leaned forwards, still squinting. “Those were my drugs.”

“They were,” you said, tilting your head. “And they could be again, for the low, low price of let me search the internet for half an hour.”

“Jeez, fine-” Angel dug in his corset for his phone and flung it at you. “There. Now, gimme.”

You caught the phone with a grin, tossing the drugs into Angel’s lap. “Pleasure doing business,” you said, taking a seat on the corner of Angel’s bed as you unlocked his phone. Alastor had specified you should work, but not how hard.

Angel looked between you, Fat Nuggets, and the drugs, quickly coming to the decision that you were the most interesting of the three. Pivoting with one leg, he rotated so that his head was level with your hip, and looked up at you. “Whatcha searchin’?”

“Overlords,” you said, and when Angel frowned, you added. “Alastor is sending me to some sort of get together and I don’t know what any of them look like.”

“Well, why didn’t ya say so?” Angel reached out to take his phone back, and you handed it over. “I have most of ‘em on sinstagram, ‘cept for Smiles of course. Here.”

You looked over Angel’s head as he swiped through a photo reel, mostly candid shots of the overlords at parties, pointing out both the overlords themselves and any major lackeys. It was information with much greater worth than a few grams of toilet cocaine, and Angel was more than happy to talk as you pressed him on details.

“There’s this rumor that Carmilla and Zestial are an item but I don’t buy it. Friends, sure, but old Zee’s a queen if I ever saw one, and Carmine’s not the type ta keep that kinda thing a secret.”

Angel scrolled to the next picture. “And of course I don’t need ta tell you about the television guy,” he said. “Hey, you want some of this coke?”

You laughed, a small shake of your head. “Thanks though. I’ve got everything I want now.”

“You’ve got everything you want?” Angel rolled over, his expression suddenly sultry as he propped his chin up on his hands. “You sure about that, Stunt Double?”

You nodded. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe.”

Angel deflated. “Smiles must be some lay, huh.”

You grinned. “I’m not answering that.”

In truth, that morning, Alastor had given you what you really wanted. A target.

The sinner that Alastor had named was one of the new overlords who had risen in the power vacuum following the previous extermination, having previously been a minor gang boss in Zeezi’s territory. He was a horse demon, and at least if Alastor was being truthful, guilty of just about every cruelty one could imagine. Including, Alastor had stressed with particular emphasis, disrespect.

His name was Kennedy, also known as the Smoker Demon, and aside from a few grainy sinstagram snaps Angel had shown you, you had little other information to go on. But when you took Alastor’s place at the next overlord’s meeting, you would see him with your own two eyes.

Alastor had agreed that you should have a weapon to hand when you appeared in his place, and on the day of the overlord meeting he presented you with an elegant red-tipped black cane.

“It’s no microphone,” he said, a little cryptically- you had never seen him use a microphone save for the ancient one attached to the desk in his radio tower. “But I had it made with a little surprise inside.”

You twirled the cane, testing its balance in your hand, and pulling the handle you found it held a concealed blade.

A short blade; not a duelist’s sword but a knife, long enough to slit a throat or to puncture a heart through the ribcage. You beamed at Alastor, the excitement bubbling within you at the prospect of violence mirrored by your delight that he had anticipated your preferences so exactly.

“It’s perfect,” you told him, twirling it just to admire the balance again.

“Of course,” he demurred, the creases at the corners of his eyes telling you that he was soaking in your praise. “I can hardly expect you to perform with second rate equipment.”

He hovered about you like a mother hen as you put on his ragged tailcoat, brushing it flat across your shoulders with the palms of his hands, and tutting as he adjusted your bow tie. You half expected him to take out a pocket square and start cleaning your mouth as he fussed over you, adjusting a fold here, a button there. Finally, when you were attired to his liking, Alastor pushed his index fingers into the corners of your mouth and pulled up, not painfully, but enough to make you bare your teeth.

“You mustn’t forget your smile, now,” he said.

It wasn’t hard at all to grin at him, not with the euphoria that currently welled within you. It was a maniac’s grin you gave him, wide and wicked and infectious.

Vox had been wrong about how much the other two Vees would object to his actions. Velvette had been legitimately furious that he had overstepped his usual bounds into social media campaigns, had called him a bloody idiotic twat, and had set the notifications from all of the accounts she usually managed to automatically forward to him. The pings were constant and it gave him a godawful headache. Valentino, by contrast, had broken the television set in their shared quarters, then stalked off to do drugs somewhere.

This was how Vox drew the shit lot of being the one of the three of them to attend the overlord’s meeting. His abilities allowed him to traverse the city quickly through the powerlines, but given the delicate political situation of any meeting of powerful individuals, such flashy displays were frowned upon. Anything that made people jumpy was frowned upon.

As such, Vox sat in the back of his limo as it drove to the meeting place, glaring at the traffic and wincing every time a notification from Velvette’s shit came in. Fuck his fucking life. Apart from, perhaps, the small portion where he got to watch Alastor fuck his doppelganger, that bit of his life could stay.

Would Alastor be at the meeting? Probably not, Vox decided. He hadn’t attended one since his altercation with Adam last extermination.

There was a spring in your step as you walked the streets in your red finery, feeling the breeze in your hair, your cane tucked neatly under one arm. The winds of Hell carried with them the scents of polyurethane and sulfur, and every sinner you passed cowered from your gaze as you grinned. It was barely even an affectation, if you were being honest with yourself. You were loose on the streets with one weapon in your pocket and another under your arm, about to meet a man that you would hunt. Anyone would grin, given the circumstances.

The sensation of being watched prickled familiar on your neck, and you stopped, hand on the handle of your cane, ready to draw the hidden blade as you turned.

A demon taller than yourself stood before you, with black, chitinous skin and a large, plumed hat. “Alastor, hail and well met.”

“Zestial!” you said with a smile, immediately grateful for Angel Dust’s overlord rundown. “Good day to you too.”

He fell into step beside you, taller than you by some margin. You didn’t feel malice emanating from him, but that was hardly a guarantee of anything. Perhaps your instincts were off. But you were heading to the same locale, so giving him the slip was hardly an option. “How have you been?” you asked, keen to push the conversation in Zestial’s direction. Alastor hadn’t told you anything about his relationship with the overlord, so the less you said, the better.

“Alas, my troubles would seem to pale in comparison to thine,” said Zestial, and you cursed internally.

“My troubles?” You raised an eyebrow. “And what are my troubles?” You had a warm place to sleep and a boyfriend who hand-fed you breakfast- practically the high life.

“Rumor has it thou suffered a mortal wound,” said Zestial, his narrow eyes looking you up and down. “ And thy former protégé doth set his sights on the folly thou suffered for.”

It took you a second to realize he was talking about Vox and the hotel. The documentary crew and constant stream of influencers through the hotel was Vox’s doing. And the timing was too co-incidental for it to not be related to the hidden cameras in Alastor’s room. Alastor already suspected Lucifer as the culprit for that, though he had no proof save that Lucifer was one of the few people powerful enough to dare to fuck with him.

“My protégé,” you repeated, lending a little darkness to your tone. “Tell me, who in the hotel did he deal with?”

Zestial smiled, eerily. “That information hath value,” he said. “What dost thou propose in exchange?”

You paused to think, twirling your cane idly around your palm and wrist as the two of you walked. Offering future consideration was a shitty thing to do, doomed to piss off either Zestial or Alastor, depending on who got saddled with the debt. You could sell the overlord the information that you were a fake, assuming that he hadn’t already figured it out, but that would undermine your own usefulness as a double for Alastor. “It seems to me,” you said, a smile at Zestial. “That the window of usefulness of that information is rather short.”

“The identity of a traitor in thy camp-” said Zestial.

“Ah, but it is a rather small camp, is it not?” you asked, grateful for the time you’d spent giving museum tours with a transatlantic accent as you stuck as hard as you could to Alastor’s mannerisms rather than lapse into iambic pentameter. “Are you sure you’d rather keep hold of it in the hopes of a high price when I need only wait for the blasted picture box to gloat about their identity?”

Zestial hummed, but didn’t argue the point further.

“I’ll tell you what. How about an exchange in kind? I’ll tell you the recent gossip I know, and you can stop me if I tell you something you think meets your price.”

“An entertaining prospect,” said Zestial. “Pray continue.”

The conversation with Angel Dust was fresh in your mind, so you recounted what you judged to be of interest, skipping over both Rosie, who Alastor had indicated was his friend, and Vox, whose very mention made Alastor’s smile seem forced, as well as the figures closest to Zestial himself. You named the underbosses vying to work under Zeezi, talked about the sinner who had been stalking Valentino, along with a few other tidbits, and Zestial was a good audience, chuckling and curious in turn.

“Thou art an enigma as ever, Alastor,” he said, as you reached the venue for the meeting, and imposing red-brick building.

You grinned at him. “I suppose that means my little stories don’t pass muster?”

“Quite the contrary,” said Zestial, a slight inclination of his head. “I consider my price paid in full. The king of Hell himself paid a visit to overlord Vox in his domain.”

Vox fought hard not to glitch when Alastor walked into the meeting room. The infuriating grin on his face, the buzz of an electric field around him, the cane twirling idly around his wrist, ears up and alert. He might not have noticed the differences if he hadn’t seen the two of you together barely a week before, if Alastor hadn’t caught him out by being disguised as you. The differences were subtle, but they were there, in the shape of your antlers and the markings on your ears.

No. Not Alastor. You. Fuck.

What were you doing here? This was a room full of overlords; people who would eat an innocent, sweet creature like you right up without a second thought. Had Alastor sent you there to taunt him? To see what he would do? The new overlord, Kennedy, had been talking shit about the Radio Demon for weeks. Vox hadn’t seen reason to worry about it before now, but the rest of the overlords were smart enough not to take a run at the Radio Demon, or anyone they believed to be the Radio Demon.

You met his eyes as you took your seat, a small smile on your lips, and Vox resolved that he would save you from this den of monsters. You were still the sweet little Bambi he had led tottering across his bedroom floor, before Alastor had stolen you. You were probably scared out of your tiny little mind, he reasoned, putting on a smiling face out of fear, or even compelled by the soul contract Alastor doubtless had over you. The small scrunch at your brow told him you were deep in thought, probably trying to think of a way out of your situation.

You strolled to your chair at the overlord’s meeting, a friendly smile to the woman you recognized as Rosie as you pondered two things. First- had Zestial rumbled your disguise? If he had, he’d shown no sign of doing so, taking his own seat across the table from you without comment. Second- was it a terrible idea to blackmail the King of Hell? The few times you’d crossed paths he’d seemed to barely register you as a person, merely part of an amorphous blob labeled ‘staff’. It was entirely possible that he would obliterate you without a second thought. And, if you did blackmail him, what would you ask for?

“Hello, one and all!” you chirped as you swung into your chair. “Tales of my incapacitation are unfortunately exaggerated!”

“More’s the pity,” muttered Vox, and you raised your eyebrow at him. It was only a few days since he’d sat next to your bed and begged Alastor to let him jack himself off as Alastor fucked you. Surely his feelings hadn’t soured that much for lack of aftercare.

“I’m sorry,” you said, cocking an ear. “Could you speak up? Your audio dropped out a little there.”

Carmilla spread her arms as Vox opened his mouth to retort. “Since we’re all here,” she said, a scowl at both you and Vox. “We should begin.”

“Wait, you’re just gonna let that motherfucker waltz in here and take a seat at the table like nothing’s happened?”

You turned and looked curiously at the demon that Alastor had told you you could kill. The Smoker Demon was tall by sinner standards, but much like you he was dwarfed by the larger members of the overlord contingent. His face was long and equine, his teeth jagged like those of most sinners, and he wore his mane plastered to his head with gel, the humanoid portion of his body attired in business casual. He looked around, seeking agreement from the other overlords.

“What? Are you just gonna not talk about how all our problems right now are the Radio Demon’s fault? The war with Heaven? Anyone?”

War with Heaven? Well, that certainly hadn’t been on sinstagram. You scrunched your nose. “Was that on the agenda? I didn’t get the memo.”

“Fuck the agenda.” Kennedy stood, glowering, and you watched as his demonic form manifested. Smoke streamed from his nostrils, wrapping itself around his arms to become biceps, and a single serrated horn proceeded from his forehead. A fucking unicorn? You’d never seen anyone manifest in anger before, except in the sinstagram videos you’d watched whilst prisoner in Vox’s quarters. To your surprise you could feel it, a low thrum in your antlers, akin to the feeling of the hunt. But the hunt was already afoot.

“If you could save that activity for after the meeting?” you said, a grin and a tilt of your head as you stared Kennedy down. You could feel the pulse in your throat, the promise of violence in the air. You felt alive. “I certainly don’t want to watch that.”

Vox watched you with increasing concern as Kennedy stepped onto the table. You didn’t know how much danger you were in, and no-one else around the table gave a fuck. They knew that one mid-tier bisexual unicorn was well within Alastor’s capabilities.

Vox watched as you rolled your eyes, turning to Carmilla with a lopsided smile, even as Kennedy loomed behind you, completely unconcerned. “The use of deadly force is still banned at these soirées, correct? Or did standards decline in my absence?”

Okay, you weren’t just unconcerned. You had a suicidal disregard for your own wellbeing. He had to do something, before Kennedy turned you into an Alastor-colored smear on the floor.

“Sit the fuck down, fuckface,” growled Vox, putting full threat behind it. That worked- Kennedy was too young to properly know the terror of the Radio Demon, but he knew Vox had a bigger dick than he did. Reluctantly he backed down.

“Unusually civic minded of you,” you said, in a perfect facsimile of Alastor’s voice, and Vox rolled his eyes internally. You’re welcome.

You stared across the table at Vox on and off for the entirety of the overlord meeting.

He had cut your altercation with your quarry short. It had been a great opportunity to gauge Kennedy’s speed and strength, maybe set him entirely off-balance by getting him kicked out of the meeting, and Vox had ruined it. It made your fingernails itch, your smile almost painful to maintain. You breathed through your nose, calming yourself by settling your attention on Kennedy, who glowered balefully at you, a little smoke still rising from his nostrils. What had Alastor even done to him anyway? You’d have to ask once you got back to the hotel.

Vox lingered after the meeting. “Hey, uh, Alastor. A word?”

You inclined your head, remaining as the others filed out. You would rather have followed Kennedy, but part of you still felt bad for just chucking Vox out of your bedroom. What you weren’t prepared for was just how close Vox stood to you, his face close enough that you could feel the static from his screen.

“I can take you away from all of this, babydoll.” Vox’s voice was low, the sort of coaxing tone he’d used as he pushed your knees apart. Not the voice he’d use for the real Alastor.

You kept the smile that Alastor had asked you to wear regardless. “Is that a threat?”

“Fuck.” Vox pressed his knuckles to his forehead. “You can drop the act, alright. I know who you are.”

“Oh? And who is that?” You grinned, slow and toothy.

Vox was quiet. You’d never given Vox your name. You hadn’t even given Alastor your name, for all you’d spent each night trading inconsequential secrets with each other, your tongue in his mouth and his in yours.

“Well? Who am I?”

“That guy’s bad news, okay.” Vox changed the subject. “He’s dangerous. He could hurt you.”

Oh. Vox was still buying the ditz act from when he’d taken you in. The only thing he’d seen you do was fuck Alastor, so you supposed he couldn’t really be blamed for that, and that certainly explained the protectiveness, however inconvenient. You fluttered your eyelashes. “How dangerous, exactly?”

It was hard to contain your excitement as you returned to the hotel, neatly sidestepping splashes from acid rain puddles. You had fooled a room full of overlords into thinking you were Alastor, except for Vox, and Vox had given you some downright detailed information on the overlord that you were going to hunt.

And you had traded up from Angel Dust’s toilet cistern cocaine to the identity of the person who had put spy cameras in your room.

When you entered the hotel you were so light on your feet that you were almost dancing, and you caught Alastor by the waist as you swept past, pulling him with you.

“It went well, I take it?” he said, falling deftly into step with you, taking you by the hand and by the shoulder.

You grinned wide, blood hot in your veins. “Zestial either rumbled me or you’re friends with him now,” you said, and Alastor laughed.

Your effervescence faded gradually, but your blood stayed hot, your excitement buzzing behind your teeth even into the night.

You watched Alastor, primly attired in his pajamas in the bed next to you, as he opened his book to the page he had reached the previous night. This was the point in the evening where you would find a book of your own, or simply sit and think, but you were too restless for that now; your senses too keen and your body still thrumming with adrenaline. You reached out and put your hand on his stomach, fingers trailing over the thin fabric, feeling the warmth of his body through it.

Alastor gave a soft hum, and turned the page, though his eyes did flicker to you briefly, curious. You pressed your suit, pushing up the hem of his pajama shirt to expose a few inches of skin, and lowered your face to him, lips brushing the skin of his hip, his flank, and then up to his navel; all of the skin that you had bared.

You lifted your gaze as your lips found his bellybutton and found Alastor staring at you over the top of his book, his antlers perhaps an inch taller than they had been a moment before, and you felt his diaphragm shift as he breathed in.

“You’re certainly forward tonight,” said Alastor, a warm crackle to his voice. “Did you want something from me?”

You shook your head, playful. “Don’t put your book down on my account.”

The snort Alastor gave was so soft that you didn’t even hear it, simply felt it through your hand on his stomach. “I wasn’t planning on it, dear,” he said, lifting his book again with theatrical indifference. “This is a very interesting chapter.”

Sliding your hand down the strip of hair that extended below his navel and under the waistband of his pajama pants, you found he was already hard for you. Just feeling his cock hard in your hand sent a sympathetic surge to your own loins, and you squeezed his shaft in your hand as you eased his waistband down over it.

Alastor feigned insouciance, but you could see the color rising in his cheeks, and feel his growing hardness under your touch. There was a matching heat in your own cheeks too; up until now, Alastor had been the one to set the pace, centering your pleasure, but now you had him in your hands. It was a surrender of the thing he found most precious- control.

You pressed your face to his stomach and then his mons as you stroked his cock, burying your nose in the coarse hair there and breathing in. He smelled like Alastor; like musk and woodsmoke and formaldehyde, and you felt the shivering intake of breath that he gave as you pressed your cheek against the silky-soft skin of his shaft, kissing your way from the base of his cock to the tip. Alastor made a show of turning the page of his book, but when you lapped up the salty liquid beading at his tip with your tongue, he actually gasped, his free hand going to cover his mouth.

You looked at him, questioning, challenging, but Alastor used the few seconds reprieve to recover his composure.

True to form, Alastor did recover, his eyes losing a little of their glazed look. “I hope you plan to finish what you started,” he said, his gaze going back to his book. You waited for him to finish turning the page before you took the tip of his cock into your mouth, careful to curl your lips around the sharp edges of your teeth, and sucked as you pumped his shaft with your hand.

“Fuck,” whimpered Alastor, and the noise went direct to your core. His eyes were closed, his teeth digging into his smiling lip as you stroked the underside of his cock with your tongue, pressing the head of his cock first against the roof of your mouth, then against the back of your mouth as you took him further in, saliva dribbling from the imperfect seal of your lips all the while. “Love,” he whined, though you doubted it was a confession, more likely a reflexive cry, a sweet nothing in his throat.

Alastor put his book down, pages open on the bed, and reached for you. You took his hand, twining your claws with his as you moved your mouth over him, going from pressing the head of his cock to the roof of your mouth to as far back in your throat as you could get him, the deepest point leaving you with your nose pressed to hair wet with your saliva, and then back again. His reaction told you that you were doing well; the quickening of his breathing, the spasmodic jerks that his hips made when you took all of him in your mouth- not enough to make you choke but enough to make your eyes water- the way his fingers gripped yours, and best of all the noises he made. Each cry he made was sweet enough to be intoxicating; to make your cunt throb and your cock ache, and you were sure that if you had ever told him your name it would be on his lips right now, in between the profanities and the broken cajun french.

You crawled between his legs as he kicked his pants the rest of the way off, your free hand cradling his balls as you took him in your mouth again, and between ragged breaths he reached for your antlers, fingertips brushing the perfect, sensitive spots that only he knew, a single tentacle extending from his back and resting at the back of your knee. It was an offer of a good ending for the evening, one that would leave you fucked out and content, deeply asleep on top of him, and it was a lie to say that it wasn’t a tempting one.

But you had other plans; you were feeling bold tonight. Gently, you moved his hand from your antlers, lifting your mouth from his cock with a soft pop, and took a moment to appreciate him being a flushed, panting mess for you. You stroked the tentacle, taking it in your hand. “I want to deflower you,” you said, as evenly as you could manage. “Let me fuck you in the ass.”

Alastor paused, his eyes registering surprise but not disinterest, and you gave him a few seconds to think about it. “You are welcome to try,” he said, finally, and for anyone else you would have offered reassurance. That you wouldn’t hurt him, that he didn’t have to do it. But Alastor had already swallowed so much of his pride in acquiescing to your request that any offer of reprieve would just have him doubling down, so you simply took him at his word, reaching into the dresser for the lubricant. It was one of the preparations you had made for Vox’s visit, a tube from the supply usually kept in the cupboard under the hotel’s front desk, along with the toothpaste and other single-use toiletries.

“Must I do all the work?” Alastor asked, a little archness layered over the desire in his voice as you applied lube to his tentacle, your palm spreading it across the smooth black surface.

“I’m not enough of a sadist to open you with my fingers,” you replied, wiggling a sharp claw at him, and his face split in a silent laugh. His tentacle coiled over your lower back as you crouched between his legs again, twining round your forearm and leaving the first few inches in your hand. You could feel the tension in his body as you touched him again, tracing fingers over his hip as you licked his cock, slowly, from the base to the tip.

He was expecting it to hurt, you realized as you took his cock in your mouth again, feeling the tension in his stomach and in his thighs, held open for you. He was expecting it to hurt and he was letting you do it anyway. You breathed out through your nose as you sucked his cock, pushing the head up against your epiglottis with a tilt of your head, and felt for his entrance with the knuckle of your index finger, stroking the tight ring of muscle with a feather-light touch before guiding the tip of the tentacle to it and pushing it in, your hand around the tentacle controlling the depth. You kept the motion shallow and slow at first, letting the lube on the tentacle spread to his hole, your mouth on his cock slow and unhurried. His body lost a little of the tension as he realized that you weren’t about to bully your way in, and you used that slack to fuck his tentacle a little deeper into him, motion slow and measured to not damage him as he took the thicker section of the taper.

Alastor gave a debauched noise that went straight to the base of your cock, eyes fluttering closed, and you held him by the hip as you kept up the pressure, his tentacle squelching into him now through the generous amount of lube, your lips and tongue and throat up and down on his cock. You could probably slide yourself into him now, smooth and easy as anything, and the thought made you twitch, but you gave him the tentacle a little longer, enjoying the way his breathing hitched at the nadir of each stroke, the salty taste of him as his cock leaked precum.

When you lifted your lips from his cock, he was staring at you again, eyes blown and dark.

“I need your hips a little higher,” you said, reaching for one of the pillows, but Alastor rolled his eyes and extruded another tentacle from his back, curling it under him to raise him up. The view it gave you was pornographic; legs spread, cock hard and angry red at the tip, glistening with your spit, his own tentacle stretching out his hole, lubricant dribbling out around it.

You eased his tentacle out of him, the soft noises he made at the sensation making your whole form ache with desire. Freeing your own cock with a quick movement, you lined yourself up with him, letting the head of your cock kiss his entrance. The sensation made you shiver, the skin there hot and slick.

Alastor’s expression told you that taking him in this position rather than from behind had been the correct decision. His smile was still there, but his ears were flat against his skull, uncertainty in his eyes alongside desire. You paused, palms on his hips, thumbs on his waist.

You could feel your pulse beating in your throat and in your groin. You didn’t want to harm Alastor, didn’t want to upset him, not with him vulnerable beneath you like this. You cared about him. “We can stop if you want. Just say the word.”

Alastor gave a scoff deep in his throat and used the tentacle looped around your back to push you into him.

The feel of being inside him was enough to make you forget to breathe for a second; his intense warmth and tightness and slickness around your cock. You’d worked enough of his tentacle inside him that you’d slid in easily, and you found yourself falling forward a little as you bottomed out inside him, his cock pressing up against your stomach, a snail trail of wetness as his precum spread across your skin.

Alastor’s smile was indulgent as he watched you struggle for breath, and he raised his head to kiss your forehead. “Do I really feel that good?”

“So good,” you said, your voice low and frank and thick with static, and Alastor’s answer was a purr, a vacuum tube hum from the back of his throat.

“I feel the same, you know,” he said, attempting a conversational tone and failing, slipping into a tone lower in his register, cock twitching against your stomach. “Every time I’m inside you, all I can think about is spilling myself.”

That statement sent heat to your face, doing nothing to help you acclimatize to the exquisite feeling of him around you. You bit your lip as you willed yourself to stay hard for him, reminding yourself that if you came in him now he was unlikely to let you try again. And you couldn’t let that happen.

Fingers round his sharp hipbones, you rolled your hips, easing out of him before pushing yourself in to the hilt again. If he’d watched you indifferently it would have been easier to keep hold, but Alastor was already half-lost, thick distortion resounding in his throat and through the cavity of his thin chest. His hands were on your back, claws flexing, tearing fine parallel incisions in your skin, but somehow the pain only ripped a libidinous growl from your throat, serving as an accent to the pleasure you felt. Alastor’s heat was slick and searing and perfect around you, and you narrowed your focus to him, only him.

You watched his face- the subtle change in expression behind the smile that he doggedly held, the way his eyelids fluttered, the way his larynx bobbed when his breath caught. You listened to him- the way he moaned and cursed in turn as you rutted into him, and the ragged edge to his breath. You felt him- his hard cock pressed between the two of you, twitching every time you hit the correct angle with a downstroke, his claws in your back, and the exquisite constricting heat of his ass.

Alastor’s breath grew more ragged, his voice more distorted, and you grinned as you felt your victory draw near; Alastor filled and spent on your cock. Alastor gave a growl, a low thrum of power, and you were caught off-guard as a third tentacle from his back curved between your legs and slid frictionless into your soaking cunt. You had been ignoring the ache there, but now, with a tentacle squelching into you, it was painfully obvious how much you had needed to be filled.

With Alastor’s tentacle stretching you, its movement compelling your rhythm, your already tenuous grip on yourself slipped, the cusp of your orgasm threatening with every stroke. You were close, too close, but so was Alastor, and you fought to make him cum, angling your hips in the way that made him tremble even as he forced you to adhere to his beat, tentacle curling in you with mirrored cruelty.

You came together; both gasping, both twitching, Alastor into the palm of the hand that you shoved between you to catch his seed, and you inside him, hot and deep and quivering.

“Alastor,” you whimpered, your whole body seeming to twitch with your first aftershock.

“Darling,” breathed Alastor, with as much awe as you had ever heard in his voice. “Oh darling, don’t you move.”

Your stomach fluttered as you looked at him, and you realized, perhaps belatedly, that this was something like love. You licked his cum from the palm of your hand, then held yourself over him, careful not to put weight on his injury. The expression on his face was one of clear, perfect bliss, with you inside him and he inside you.

You could feel yourself softening inside him already, beginning to slip out of him, and he wrapped an arm round you, pulling you onto his chest, not seeming to care when you lay over his wound. The claw marks he’d made on your back stung with the pressure, but you found you didn’t care about that, either.

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #alastor smut #bottom alastor #antlerplay #hazbin x reader #alastor tentacles

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hisokamywaifu · 1 year

Text

Kinktober Day 9 - BRAT TAMING with Neito Monoma

Dom!reader x sub!Monoma

~~~

Leaning back against the foot of the couch, you lazily grinned in the dim lighting as you and a few class 1B students played truth or dare.

“Alright, Monoma.” Kendo began, “Truth or Dare.”

Having already taken a dare that night, Monoma decided to go the other way. “Truth.”

Kendo smiled mischievously. “Who’s the dominant one in your relationship?” She looked between you and Monoma.

He rolled his eyes. “We just got together like a week ago, we haven’t done that shit yet.”

You cut in. “But if we do…”

“I’d be the dom.” Your eyes widened as you realized you both said that at the same time.

“Sure, pretty boy.” You sarcastically remarked at him.

Monoma fully turned to face you, while Kendo just watched, giggling. “You really think you can dom me?”

You rolled your eyes at the audacity. “Why don’t I prove it. My room is right there.”

Monoma stood up. “Alright.” He kept his smug look on his face as you both made your way into your room.

You were already excited about what you could do to him.

As soon as you got into your room, you spun around and pinned him against the door. His eyes flew open with surprise, but he quickly attempted to compose himself as you started roughly kissing up him neck.

Sucking a hickey onto the pale skin of him neck, you tilted his head up by his hair, and he let out a nearly silent whine.

“That the best you can do?” He panted, trying to act like you weren’t affecting him.

“Quiet. You’re just a brat.”

At these words, he decided he had let you take control for long enough. He pushes you away and onto the bed, the air leaving you for a moment as you fell with a huff.

You flared up at his form, radiating confidence as he climbed on top of you, taking off your shirt. You started unclothing him as well, needing to make sure you never gave up control of the situation.

You make him believe he was in charge, but you were slowly turning things the way you wanted them.

Once you both were naked, he rolled off of you to lie back onto the bed. “Suck me off.”

Rolling you eyes, you flipped over so you were face to face with his dick.

It was about average size, and he was already pretty hard.

“If it’s really this easy to rile you up, we should’ve done this a while ago.”

He was about to make an angry retort when you quickly stroked him, and he snapped his mouth shut.

Licking a stripe up the bottom, he fisted the sheets of your bed in his hands. “Get on with it. Before I make you.”

“Wow, you’re so scary. I better get to it.” You deadpanned, and he glared at you from the head of the bed, his face turning red.

Taking him into your mouth fully, he let out a ‘fuck’ as you sucked at the tip lightly.

As you took him deeper, he started to let out groans, never really letting much noise out.

He got close pretty fast, all it took were a couple minutes of sucking. You could feel him begin to twitch in your mouth.

As he got closer, he knew he had to keep him dominance, so he began to thrust into your mouth.

At the sudden movement, you began to choke, and you knew you had to get him back.

Your hands made their way to him waist, and pinned it down, keeping him still for you to regain control.

He was about to release, even with the restricted movement, but then you stopped.

Pulling off of him, he yelped at the cold hitting his member, the loss of stimulation, while you sat grinning above him.

“Why- why the fuck did you stop?”

You suppressed a giggle at him, he looked so utterly pathetic.

“I’m just showing you that I’m in control here. You’re a brat. And the way you deal with brats is by breaking them.”

He gulped at your words, but he wasn’t backing down. “Stop acting like you can control me.”

You narrowed your eyes at his behavior. “You can’t come unless I say so. I’d suggest being nice, or you’ll be stuck like this all night.”

He couldn’t believe this was happening. He was furious, and embarrassed, and so fucking horny. “Fine.” He mumbled.

You could barely hear his voice. He was bright red, and was looking at you grumpily. Cute. “Hmm? I couldn’t quite catch that.”

“Fucking fine. Just fuck me already.”

You shook your head disappointedly. “And here I thought you’d be a good boy for me. Disappointing, but I guess a punishment is in order.”

He acted unaffected at your words. Deep down, be wanted to be your good boy. But his pride wouldn’t let him, so he settled for brat.

As you climbed back on top of him, boxing him between your arms, you kissed him tenderly as your hand lightly ran down his side.

As your lips molded together, you took his cock back into your hand and stroked, smiling as he let out a groan into your mouth.

“There you go baby, let all your sounds out for me.”

He tried to hold back, but he openly moaned into your lips.

After you had stroked the precum around and gotten him ready, you took your hand away and started grinding languidly onto him.

He was panting into your mouth, and you let his cock catch on your entrance.

Pulling away from his red lips, you stopped to admire him. He was flushed, with multiple hickeys along his shoulders and neck, and he was shaking slightly.

Brushing his hair from his face, you smiled down at him. “You want me to fuck you, Nei?”

“No shit Sherlock.” Even after all of that, he was still bratty as ever.

“Uh uh, that’s not how we ask for things.”

“I’m not a fucking five year old.”

“Well you sure fucking act like one.” You mimicked his tone. “Beg. Then I’ll fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

This little bitch. You quickly brought your hand up.

Smack!

Monoma let out a yelp as you roughly slapped his thigh.

Slowly letting the head of his cock catch in your entrance again, you gained satisfaction as he sucked in a pained breath.

“You gonna beg, pretty boy?”

Glancing to the side, he gritted a painful sounding ‘please’.

“Now now, we’re done with brattiness. You can beg better than that.” Grinding down on his length again, he groaned out a louder ‘please!’

“Bit more, baby.” You sunk down a little bit.

“Please! Please please, I’ll be…good. I promise, just - fuck - please!”

You sunk all the way down. “Good boy, Neito.”

He let out a loud ‘fuck’, and quickly grabbed your waist.

Quickly setting a fast pace, you watched as he fell apart, moaning like a slut, eyes falling shut.

Right before he came, you slightly slowed down. Not enough to stop his building orgasm, but enough for him to look at you in confusion. Were you going to stop again?

“Please, please let me~”

“Shh, Nei. I’ll let you cum, I just have a question for you.”

He wasn’t even fully listening, but he nodded quickly anyway.

“Who’s the dom here?”

Eyes widening, he looked at you. After a long while of hesitation, he gave in.

“You.”

Smiling at his obedience, you kissed him roughly. “Cum for me, good boy.”

“Fuck, y/n!” He came, back arching after his repressed orgasm, riding the waves of pleasure.

As he came down, he was a little grumpy that you beat him, but he let you cuddle into him and drift off.

~~~

The next morning:

As you and Monoma made your way out, you were greeted by Kendo.

“I guess you two figured out who the dom was.”

You smirked at her. “I’m probably helping with the narcissist issue.”

You two giggled as Monoma stomped away to sulk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The end! I kinda rushed that cause I wasn’t sure it would be ready in time, but I did it!

Kinktober Masterlist Link

#dom reader #dom reader smut #sub character smut #smut #my hero academia #sub Monoma #Reader x monoma #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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mortuarywriting · 6 months

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Falling into Place

Ao3 Link - [First] - [Next Chapter ->]

All things considered this isn't what you were expecting to wake up to when you went to bed. One minute you're on your phone, trying to pass out, and the next? You're here. You've had some interesting greetings in your life, but dropping about six feet and having twelve guns leveled at your face? That takes the cake

Warnings:

Reader Insert, Plus-Size Reader, The Author Regrets Everything, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Isekai, canon divergence Look we're gonna dig into the implications of omegasverse changing bits and pieces of history as well as addressing whatever the FUCK is happening as CoD's history. Idk man Godzilla is canon and nobody bats an eye at that fact and you think I'm gonna be normal about that? No

You could be having a worse day, you think, as you stare at the interrogation table you're cuffed to. They could've shot you the second you fell the six feet from the sky into a random army base. That's a very real thing that could've happened.

But no, you just had a dozen guns pointed at you in one moment and a slew of questions you didn't have satisfying answers for.

No, you had no idea how you got there. You'd been in bed tooling around on your phone and then you were falling.

They asked who you worked for, and were not impressed by your mundane answer. You didn't work for some pmc or intelligence organization. You asked them to their faces if they thought you could pass a PT test if you tried. Not that they answered or appreciated your point, mind.

It was only after you gave them whatever identifying information you had that things got… spicy.

"I would love to tell you what this designation of yours is if you tell me what you mean. Is it like a classification of civilian versus enlisted? Is it physical? Is it your horoscope? I don't know what I don't know," you explain again for the Nth time. You didn't wanna play twenty questions but here you fuckin were, captive audience and all.

The man asking you questions had lost his charming good cop look. He was getting more and more annoyed on this one, "your designation," a demand, not a question and sure as shit not an answer.

"Again, would love to tell you! I don't know what you mean! Feels like some kinda Star Wars thing," you grumble the last bit to yourself but the man cocks his head.

His eyes narrow, "what are… Star Wars, you said?"

You blink owlishly, "beg pardon?"

"Star War. Clarify."

It's your turn for your brow to furrow, and furrow it does, "Star Wars? As in the multi-billion dollar franchise created by George Lucas and eventually sold to Disney," your tone is questioning, just shy of asking if the guy lived under a rock but his expression didn't let up and the last thing you needed was bad cop, so you continued, "the story of what happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away? The political space series of movies versus Star Trek's more scientific and discovery based longstanding TV show? Nine major movies and the Clone Wars before Disney sunk their talons in. Like yeah we got more shows and movies that expanded the universe but they also cut out decades of book contributions in their acquisition and that kinda sucked. But yeah, that Star Wars?"

"Nine movies," his tone is disbelieving, and now it's your turn for your eyebrows to raise, "can you name them?"

You nod, "well yeah. Do you want them in episode order or release?"

His brows furrow, "did they not release in order?"

"In a sense? Three trilogies, 4-5-6 back in the late 70s early 80s, then 1-2-3 in the late 90s early 00s, and 7-8-9 through the teens. So order, yes, just… not a cohesive one."

"Release, then," he leaned back and crossed his arms, a position you'd love to mimic if you weren't cuffed to the table for… an indeterminate period of time now, actually.

"A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi-"

"Woah now, empire? What's a jeddy?"

You give him a blank look, trying very hard to mask your disbelief as you look between him and the mirror behind him. You look at your reflection, take a deep breath, and- "sir would it be easier for you to maybe check the internet?"

He seemed to bristle, nose flaring and looking at you expectantly.

You just… kinda sat there. You tapped your fingers together on the desk and kept the eye contact he was intent on. It took a good minute and him getting progressively pissier before you simply ask, "would you like the other movies now?"

You didn't expect an explosion of movement from the man. He downright snarled and slammed his hands on the table as he burst to his feet, the sudden change sending his chair screeching back before falling with a clatter. You leaned as far back as your cuffed hands would allow, eyes wide and a panic rising.

Both of you turned to look at the door when it slammed open with a barked, "Williams!"

The man who opened it reared back a bit, "Christ, layin' it on a bit thick," he groused, his tone sounding more like someone chastising a teenager for using too much Axe body spray. He smoothed his posture back into something casual as he fanned the air dismissively with a hand, "cap wants you to take a walk."

Your interrogator- Williams, apparently- stares at the man in the door, the two locking eyes before the one in the door straightens from his purposely relaxed posture. You watch the both of them, noting the shoulders tensing as the two just. Staring at each other? Eventually the guy who'd been grilling you looked away and stormed out, the man in the doorway letting him slip out easily enough before turning a charming look back to you.

He took a minute to fan the door a few times to get newer, blissfully cool air in before he entered the room, "sorry 'bout him. He really did a number in here," the new guy tsked before closing the door quietly behind himself.

Your brow furrowed even as you slowly relaxed a bit, had this Williams guy like… farted or something? A nice quirk of ventilation keeping you from smelling something abhorrent? Either way you simply shrug as he walks in and tips the chair back up, sitting and giving another reassuring smile, "how you doing, love?"

You opened and closed your mouth a few times before simply settling on, "I'm a bit… whelmed? This has been," you give as vague a rolling gesture as you can without your cuffs rattling too badly, "a lot? And I have no idea what just set him off either?"

It's the man before you's turn to quirk a brow, "no idea?"

"If I knew the answers to his questions I'd've given 'em by now. I don't, though, and then he just started staring? And hell I just thought it was some kinda macho 'I can stare the truth out of you,'" you pitched your voice lower and pushed your shoulders out for a second to mimic the douchebag behavior before settling, "so I kept eye contact because I'm so out of my depth I have no reason to lie at all and now…" you trail off, gesturing around the room, "all that."

The man nods slowly, "alright love, could you tell me about the last five years?"

Your brows furrow, "oh fuck, 2019 was five years ago wasn't it. God, time is an illusion. Anyway, you want what I was doing leading up to and through the pandemic?"

You think he might've startled for a second but he simply moved to scratch his chin, "mhmm. Just your thoughts on the last five years is all."

So… you ramble. Because he was nice and not prodding or asking weird questions. You talk to him about your job before the pandemic, how people thought covid was just a flu until the death tolls kept climbing, how tons of governments dropped the ball on a local or country-wide level and how that kicked back onto your life, and then the absolute crapshoot of the last election cycle, the shitty 'oh no this is the new normal everything is fine' behavior that has lead to surges and cycles of a fucking plague and so on. He simply nodded, gave some sympathetic hums and winces appropriately at your experiences.

"And did you go back and watch Star Wars through that? Or other things Disney owned?"

And, well, that was a weird way to phrase it but you shrugged, "the mouse is just shy of a monopoly and not one that anybody can take that down so… yeah, I guess? They kept putting shows out and expanding their Star Wars universe so that's been kinda neat to watch but not just them, no. Couple other games and stuff like that to keep me busy, too," you kinda handwave and shut up because panic rambling to MILITARY PERSONNEL is probably not your smartest move in hindsight. Especially when you don't know his name. A+, self.

You tap your fingers against the metal table as he looks at you, "and you said covid has a long term effect of ruining people's senses of smell and taste?"

You nod slowly, "yeah, dude? It's one of the biggest warning signs for most people? Like if everything starts tasting like it was made by a middle class white mom who keeps shoving random letters in her kids names you should swab? That kinda shit?"

What rock has this guy been living under? You were pretty sure the military were supposed to be way more familiar with this shit all things considered, but you've been wrong before.

It was his turn to give you a bit of a wide eyed look before he poorly covers a laugh, "alright, that's fair. I need to go talk with my captain," he hooks a thumb over his shoulder to the window, which didn't surprise you that there had been people back there. He offers a reassuring smile as he stands, humming idly as he pushes the chair back in. He pauses mid-step, "you mentioned that there were cards…?"

You find yourself nodding slowly, "yeah it was important and you couldn't fly or go to certain places if you didn't have one for a while. Should still have a picture of mine buried on my phone," you really didn't wanna get another first-round of covid shots, you REALLY didn't wanna repeat the 24 hours of suck for no reason.

"Cool, thanks," he flashes another charming grin before he slides out of the room.

You lean back in your chair, what an odd guy. Nice though.

-------

"Right," Gaz says as he opens the door to Price and Ghost, "either our mystery guest is off her nut or she's legitimately from somewhere and somewhen else."

Ghost and Price look at each other before turning back to Gaz, this… complicated matters.

Well, it's not like you hadn't given them information to identify yourself. They'd dig up who you were one way or another.

-------

You stare blankly as the nice man from before gives you a sympathetic look, "what do you mean I'm dead?"

Behind him is a guy you're not sure if he's just fuckoff huge or if he's just moderately huge and it's forced perspective.

You don't think it's forced perspective.

You are absolutely trying not to panic spiral.

You are absolutely doing a horrible job at that.

"Well," he opens the file before him and there's a news article, proudly proclaiming "Locals Die in Horrible Freak Accident" like that's not some form of you that was looking like some smear on the pavement, "there's this. Fingerprints match up. Can check for dental if you're really curious."

"Were there even any teeth left after that," you mumble as you take and read the offered article. Seven people were involved, the pictures used are mostly flattering. Hell, you almost don't mind what pic they used for an alternate you but… "that's certainly not the pic I would've wanted. Maybe this me had different tastes?"

You take the time to actually read through the article. It's not helping because for as much as you stare at the page you're not absorbing any information. Some form of detachment, if this was really you? You'd died. A different you but a you nonetheless. You died and you're reading how it happened. There was a lot to unpack in all this and you just needed to put the suitcase away for now. You'd much rather throw it away at this rate.

You were rapidly coming to the understanding that you and Toto were not in Kansas anymore, and there wasn't a convenient yellow brick road to get yourself back home. No easy way to get the hell out of Dodge either. Was it Dodge or the O.K. Corral that was in Kansas? No the O.K. Corral wasn't in Kansas- Dodge was though, that's right.

This analogy was getting away from you and some part of you figured this was just your brain trying to protect yourself but… wait, wasn't this a metaphor? There wasn't 'like' or 'as' or goddammit not again.

You recognize some names here and there but largely everyone involved were perfect strangers. The article doesn't cover if it would've been slow or quick. You hope for the smear that it was quick. Smears like that don't happen slowly, right? Well, not unless it's like a dramatic slide down a window, but not usually across pavement like that.

Still not sure how you feel about all of it. Bit morbid being confronted with your mortality like that.

Certainly answered a lot of questions about your theoretical passing you never thought about. Like if the obituary for you in what you know to be your own home and world is just as… really kinda just mediocre as this. Have you really done nothing of note for an obituary? Damn.

You kept pouring over the article, each pass bringing new words into focus that help connect the picture a little bit, but… Something repeated in the article made you pause, "two alphas, four betas, and an omega?"

There was no decent way to ask about that. Any questions invoked from here would border into dangerous territory better kept between yourself and a private browser history. You knew what you were about but there was no fucking way.

"Their designations," the nice man whose name you still hadn't caught explains, "mostly explaining their secondary gender."

You look at him owlishly. You pray to whatever God might be listening that you wake up shortly. Or that the earth below your feet opens up and swallows you. Whichever comes first, the mortification will snipe you otherwise.

"Please tell me this is an elaborate joke at my expense," you are very quiet as you are trying to get really cool with a lot of things really quickly.

"Negative," the big fucker in the back practically growled and you knew that voice would do things to you if you weren't half stepped out of your own body.

You missed whatever his followup was but your brow furrowed when you checked the date on the article, "I've been dead for months? That…" you let the paper fall from your hands. Everything about this is wild at best and very overwhelming at worst.

A lot of this qualified as worst.

You look up at the two, missing the odd look they shot at each other as you try to pull yourself back together, "so now what? You've got a not-a-smear of me that fell from the sky onto a secure military base, and where I'm from we didn't have," you paused to gesture between the paper and the two soldiers, "dynamics was it? That was just a fanfiction special."

"Fanfiction."

The way he said it was so carefully neutral you paused, "oh my god without Star Trek to popularize fanfiction and the fan community, how has fandom evolved? Is fanfiction a thing- well, yes, it does fanfics have been a thing since Dante Alighieri wrote the Divine Comedy and even before- well, the question is more if it's still popularized? Are there still the wattpad fics of- I am getting so off track. What exactly is the next step?"

You look from the nice man to the big fucker and back, neither saying anything but looking at you with careful blankness.

You felt like you were being weighed and measured in their eyes.

You hoped to anyone listening that you weren't found wanting at least. Not when you're in the shit situation it looks like you ever so increasingly fell into.

"Considering I'm. Not smear. And very much not from here? Are blanks a thing? Or is that what a beta is I'm," you trail off, brow furrowing, "fuzzy. On the whole thing. The flavor of understanding, dynamics, and population skew tended to be dependant on the author's level of horny."

The did get a bit of a snort from the pretty one before you, the one in the back tilting his head just so as the pretty one spurred you on, "okay please don't take this the wrong way, you have given me nothing to go on but A/B/O and-" a finger was raised in question to that, you quickly explaining, "the fanfic shorthand for the universe without being a mouthful. Anyway- I've seen population numbers being roughly the same across the board, I've seen alphas and omegas at roughly 1% of the population of society on either end, I've seen alphas at about 5% and omegas at 1%- those ones are usually the most horny I swear.

"And it's all over the board, no consistency- sometimes it's betas are infertile, sometimes they're the straightman to the comedy that's an alpha and omega trying to woo each other without being too horny to function. Sometimes it's a sliding scale where being beta just means you're more the more middle-ground regulated hormonally with alphas and omegas being the opposing ends of a spectrum. Can you please say something and give me a fucking break because my panic rambles are probably like. Some kinda prejudiced. I'm still not over the 'I'm supposed to be a smear on the ground we don't even have dental images of to confirm who it is anymore' nugget you dropped on me. I think I'm doing well for this"

You would rather not tell them that as soon as you're out of this box of a room you were gonna be curled up in a ball and unabashedly weeping. That was none of their business.

The pretty one gave you what you're sure was supposed to be a reassuring smile but the quiet stretched just a bit too long. You looked from one to the other before leaning forward, "is this supposed to be soothing in some way? Because it's just a bit of an extended awkward silence and that's uh-"

It was the big one in the back's turn to give an amused snort, the pretty one looking bashful, "right, sorry, we uh-"

You jerk a bit, "wait, was that supposed to be some scent thing," you really didn't wanna say pheromones and potentially dig yourself into a deeper, more awkward hole based on Horny Pseudoscience.

Pretty rubbed the back of his neck, "something like that. You really couldn't smell anything?"

You know the exact Face you're making. It's very much your 'I have told you this and I'm getting tired of having to repeat it' face. You can tell he clocks it but for the record, because to your mortification this has to be recorded, you simply give a succinct, "no, I haven't smelled anything. Not from you, not from him," you jerk your head towards the big fucker, "and not from douchebag from be- Williams! His name was Williams. Nothing. Really had no clue why you were fanning the door when you came in."

You sigh, rubbing the heels of your palms into your eyes, "okay. Assuming I'm not about to be put into past tense a second time. Do we have any idea what popped me out here?"

The sentences are stilted, you know you're getting more rattled the longer you're here but sue you alright it's been the worst six hours of your life here.

They just continue to look at you, pretty keeping a polite almost customer service look as big one just stares unceasingly.

"Right. Okay. Am I going to be reintegrated to society or is this," you gesture around the little room as much as you can, "looking like my home for the foreseeable future."

No change in what you can see of either's expression, and you just sag. Deep breath in, deep breath out, "cool. Alright. Well. I know nothing of how biology is altered here, I'm not sure how that has impacted changes throughout history, and frankly I don't know what your pop culture has done. I'm assuming math and written languages are largely the same but in all fairness I don't know what I don't know."

You just stare quietly at the table for a bit longer before looking back at the two of them, "is there anything else you need because I can feel the freakout creeping up and while I know there's no real privacy, uh…"

The pretty one looked back to the big one, at some point you're sure you'll get some sort of names but for now? Now you watch the big one nod, the pretty one give you a polite smile and some vaguely polite bullshit your brain is swiftly going too far out to hear.

You only hope that whoever is behind the mirror is polite enough to look away as you put your head down on the table and give yourself the opportunity to, just this once, cry. As a treat.

[Next Chapter -> ]

#rambles from the morgue #a for effort and all that

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urdepressedslut · 1 year

Text

You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part eight❞

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: After a surprise visit from Pierce, tension arises as he threatens Bucky of his job. Pierce wants to have a talk with you and it doesn't go very well.

♡ Warnings: language, heavy angst, threats, stalking, abuse, fluff, pierce (yes— he's a warning), bucky literally being the loml

Part 9

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au

Bucky thought he had experienced true fear before— but that was before he was staring into the eyes of a very powerful man. A man who was looking at him with a knowing look— like he knew something Bucky didn’t. Truthfully, he wouldn’t of been nervous if he didn’t already feel indifferent about the man. He also was still in the state of mind from the kitchen. He was about to reveal the stalker secret to you. He would’ve too— if it wasn’t for Pierce.

Like he said— what shit timing.

“Sir, this is unexpected. Everything okay?” Bucky started, keeping things casual.

He had to remember to fall back into a professional bodyguard mindset— not the soft side that he had somehow brought out with you. He found it rather disappointing to hide that part of himself away— he supposed he had to though.

Pierce smiled even wider, motioning with his hand behind him— further into the house.

“Please— let’s talk inside. Too many listening ears out here.” Pierce insisted, waiting for Bucky to step aside to let him in.

Pierce wanted to scoff at the thought that Bucky would keep him out— this house was his. A gift, of course to you— but he owned the house.

Bucky shut the door, not before he got a glimpse of the men outside. All were unfamiliar faces— he wasn’t surprised. Pierce was so cutthroat, he wasn’t shocked if he had to get rid of the weak ones.

Bucky followed Pierce into the living room, sitting down in the couch opposite of him. It was silent for a moment, Pierce just staring at Bucky— like he was trying to get a read on him. The stare only made Bucky uncomfortable— and rather annoyed.

“Mr. Barnes do you think I’m an imbecile?” Pierce broke the silence, startling Bucky with the straightforwardness.

He shook his head, swallowing before speaking.

“No sir.”

“Do you think things can happen without me knowing?” He asked him another question, crossing his legs and leaning back— almost in amusement.

Bucky furrowed his brows, trying to see where this was going but otherwise kept answering.

“Probably not.”

“No— they can’t.” Pierce corrected him. “Mr. Barnes I like you. I respect what you’ve been through.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at his word choice, the line between what he could take and what was sensitive territory— Pierce was dancing on that line.

Pierce found a sick satisfaction watching Bucky’s jaw clench— knowing he still held all the power. He was tracing Bucky’s weak spots with a knife and he didn’t know it.

“But I have a problem with certain bodyguards that forget their place. You do see where I’m going with this, right?” Pierce asked accusingly.

Bucky furrowed his brows in confusion, not sure what he was talking about— all he knew is that Pierce didn’t look the happiest.

“I’m afraid not sir.” He answered him carefully.

Pierce glared at Bucky for a moment, looking him up and down— like he was sizing him up.

“Then let me make myself very clear,” He leaned forward, “My daughter is not to know about certain things— i’m sure you know what i’m talking about.”

He paused and glanced to the direction of the stairs, careful not to let you hear. Bucky watched as Pierce called in one of his men. He whispered a few things him before the man started walking up the stairs.

Bucky felt his body tense up, feeling unsure about this man that you didn’t know— he didn’t know head upstairs.

“Mr. Barnes, I’m quite aware that you feel it’s only right that my daughter knows about this whole childish stalker situation. You don’t need to try and deny it— I have ears everywhere. Like I said, I find out about everything.” Pierce stated.

Bucky felt uncomfortable, knowing he’d been semi caught— though he hadn’t admitted to anything. Though he felt he didn’t have to, Pierce seemed to know more than he was letting on. But how?

He wasn’t sure why but he felt angered at the way Pierce was trying to control everything. You thought this was your safe haven— this house. But it was more like a jail— at least that’s how it felt right now to him.

“You put cameras in your daughters house or something?”

Pierce’s jaw twitched at Bucky’s boldness, but otherwise kept a poker face.

“No— but that’s a great idea. I’ll put it on the list.”

Bucky wanted to roll his eyes so badly at his sarcasm. He wanted to test the waters a bit, knowing deep down it wasn’t a good idea— but he had to try. For your sake.

“With all due respect sir— shouldn’t your daughter know about a stalker… specifically one that’s after her?” Bucky asked, keeping his voice quiet as to not challenge Pierce any further.

To Bucky’s surprise, Pierce nodded— actually taking a second to think of an answer.

“Honestly Mr. Barnes— no. If I can catch whoever is behind this and eliminate the threat before she ever finds out… she doesn’t have to worry about a thing.” Pierce explained, and Bucky was not surprised by the answer.

Annoyance bubbled up again, forcing him to defend you. He usually wouldn’t stop himself but it was the big boss he was talking to— he had to watch his tongue.

Pierce narrowed his eyes, analyzing Bucky and his posture. The way his jaw would clench every time you were brought up— the way Bucky looked ready to pounce despite his calm demeanor.

“Mr. Barnes I understand if you are infatuated with my daughter— but I hope you know what will happen if you don’t maintain your position as a bodyguard, and try to be something more.” Pierce warned and Bucky felt completely exposed. Pierce knew he’d hit the nail on the head. “All I can say is that it won’t end well for you.”

Bucky nodded his head in understanding but wanted to punch that smirk off his face. Pierce was clearly enjoying Bucky’s inner struggle.

“I get it— you spend all hours, everyday with her. It only makes sense that... something is to be formed. But you better hope that bond, doesn’t become something more. Understood?” Pierce threatened.

Bucky nodded again, slowly feeling his face grow hot. His hands were clenched into fists— his anger consuming his being. It was completely frustrating that Pierce wanted to be a Father now— not when you and him were strangers. He was only now playing the concerned, overprotective Father— but Bucky knew it was an act. Sadly, Bucky knew Pierce didn’t care for you. That much was obvious, and it made Bucky want to punch him even more.

“I apologize if that’s what it looks like to you sir, but nothing has happened or will happen between us.” Bucky promised, although he almost didn’t believe his lie.

“Apologies aren’t worth shit to me Mr. Barnes— either you get your act together or you’ll be gone.” Pierce said lastly, standing up and dusting off his suit.

Bucky swallowed nervously, not exactly the conversation you wanna be having with your boss. He was in a rough spot, and he wasn’t sure what this would mean for his job. He was sure Pierce was already wanting to get rid of him— it wasn’t often that people talked back to him. Bucky had seemed to get lucky this time around.

“You came all this way, just to warn me not to make a move on your daughter?” Bucky asked bravely.

He couldn’t deny the satisfaction at Pierces almost red face, the way his eyes were furious that someone had spoken back to him. Surprisingly again, Pierce took a breath and forced his lips to curve up. Bucky knew that had to be killing him.

“Not quite— I wanted to speak to her as well.” Pierce informed him.

Bucky couldn't hide the distaste from his face, the way he worded it. He wanted to speak to you— not with you. It was so frustrating to hear him speak about you like you were nothing. The way he spoke about you like you were just another one of his clients or someone who is around strictly for business. You were his daughter— it disturbed Bucky that he didn't act like a Father.

"Dad?" Your voice grabbed both of the men's attention, their eyes snapping to the doorway from the stairs. "What's going on?"

You were trailing into the room, glancing behind you skeptically as the man Pierce ordered upstairs followed behind you. Bucky could see how uncomfortable you were from the strange man following you— he couldn't imagine how you felt at the man entering your room if he did. The thought had Bucky clenching his fists more aggressively.

"(Y/n), go back upstairs." Pierce spoke lowly to you, already giving you a cold glare and you had just waked into the room.

You wanted to shrink back at his hostile expression, wondering for the hundredth time why your existence bothered him so much.

"Dad— why is this man allowed to just barge into my room?" You asked, still glancing back at the now smirking guard.

Bucky glared daggers into the guy, wishing his head could explode just by his stare. Man— he wish he could have laser vision right now.

"Don't be such a brat. I ordered him to watch you." Pierce snapped, walking towards you.

You wanted to scoff at his words. A brat? Here you thought you'd be able to talk with your Father— you felt silly now.

"Mr. Barnes, would you please give me and my daughter a minute to talk." Pierce told him, he made it clear it wasn’t him asking.

Bucky hesitantly excused himself, heading towards the stairs to take a seat at the top. Just out of reach to be able to hear. It didn’t help that the guy who had barged into your room was standing at the doorway— staring up at him. Bucky had to ignore the urge to flick the man off.

You walked further into the room until you took Bucky’s seat— sinking into the cushions as you waited for your Father to be seated fully.

Pierce sat and crossed his legs just as he did prior, giving you a once over— almost thinking of what to say.

“How are things?” Pierce asked simply.

The question had caught you off guard. You were expecting to be yelled at— to be asked simply for the benefit of him and his job. Now that he had asked the question you so desperately needed the month of your Mother’s passing. Well… you didn’t know how to react.

“Uh… fine. Everything’s fine.” You barely got out, still shocked from the question.

It was heartbreaking that something so tiny could bring you joy— even if he didn’t mean it. You’d like to pretend even for a moment that he cared about you.

"Peanut, I've come to talk to you about Mr. Barnes." He told you, keeping his voice quiet so only you and him could hear.

You winced from the nickname and furrowed your brows, you felt uncomfortable talking about Bucky when he wasn't around. You wanted him to be with you right now— you couldn't ignore the discomfort from talking with your Father.

"What about James?" You wondered.

Pierce narrowed his eyes at the name you had called him.

"James?" Pierce asked, giving you a judgmental look.

"Father, I didn't want to keep things so formal with him around all the time. I wanted things to feel less forced— so I got to know him better and yeah— I call him James." You explained, twiddling your fingers in your lap nervously.

"Peanut..." You winced again, "He's your bodyguard. Nothing more. You are to stop treating him like he's your friend—"

"Why?" You asked, and Pierce gave you an angered look that had you shrinking back slightly but not backing down completely. "I'm sorry Father, but you can't come here and tell me what to do after ignoring me for months."

You felt proud that you had stood up for yourself— but the mean glare your Father was sending you had you swallowing anxiously.

"Watch your tongue girl." He spit, leaning up in his seat now.

The way he had used girl, was so demeaning. It was almost as if you mean't nothing to him— not important enough to use your name.

"Just take a good second to remember who you're talking to." He warned you and you didn't hide the scoff this time.

The sound left your lips, letting Pierce know his words had annoyed you.

"I know who I'm talking to— my Father!" You raised your voice and stood up, this little moment let you feel bigger— towering over his sitting form.

That was until Pierce stood up now, getting close to you— in your face. You could feel the heat of his breath hitting your face, the burning smell of cigarettes on his breath.

"Exactly! You're my daughter— so you should respect me even more!" He stepped even closer to you, reaching out to grab your arm in a painful grip. "Why do you have to be such a bitch— why can't you just shut your fucking mouth and listen!"

You let out a whine at the grip he had on your arm and suddenly your body filled with fear— fear that your Father was going to hurt you. He already was.

"Father— you're hurting me.." You said clearly, trying to keep your voice even.

"You wonder why I don't want you around— do you not see how you act? Disrespectful fucking brat! I do all these nice things for you— I buy you a fucking house! I provide you with everything you need!" He attempted to keep his voice hushed but the sound was starting to echo throughout the space.

"Father—"

You were suddenly cut off, your head whipping to the side— your cheek stinging. Your mind felt hazy— fuzzy with confusion as you tried to understand what had happened. You just needed a moment to process everything. Through the blood pounding in your ears and the sudden blurriness from your oncoming tears— you had come to the realization.

Your Father had hit you.

You could still hear him talking, but it was all muffled. You were in shock and your body felt frozen, your chest felt like it couldn't expand. At last— you swore you felt your heart shattering and falling to the pit of your stomach. You felt your body jerk into your Father, and thats when your senses seemed to come back to you.

"Are you even listening to me?!" He screamed, pushing you back by your arm— watching you fall to the ground with a yelp.

Bucky had heard from the other room as the conversation— if he could even call it that— increase in volume. He was proud of you for standing up to him— and it felt odd to hear you speak so aggressively. He'd never heard you speak in any other tone that wasn't your usual light angelic voice.

He could hear the clear emotions straining your voice, and he had to hold himself back from running up to Pierce to tell him off.

He had done well to keep himself sat on the stairs, but as soon as he heard you utter the words, father you're hurting me— he got up immediately. He was on his way down the stairs when he heard the loud smack, and the sudden yell from you followed by the sound of a loud thud.

Pushing past the guard that was attempting to watch the doorway, he rounded into the room— his heart breaking at the sight in front of him.

You were laying on the floor, cowering in fear as tears poured out of your eyes. The way you looked so small and terrified as Pierce towered over you, still screaming at you. Bucky didn't think twice and ran over to you, standing in front of you to block Pierces path.

Pierce halted his yelling, and glared angrily at Bucky. Bucky continued to stare him down as he heard Pierce's men enter the room— all surrounding the boss. Pierce let out a dark chuckle— shaking his head in disappointment.

"Who are you to stop me from speaking to my daughter?" Pierce snarled, his men circling around him and you.

"I'm a man doing his job sir— following your orders to do whatever it takes to keep her safe." He snapped back bravely, repeating his words from the first day of meeting each other.

Pierce narrowed his eyes and remembered very clearly at his demand to do whatever it takes to keep you alive and safe— he just didn't think it would be used against him. He kept quiet for a moment, not wanting to admit defeat to Bucky.

"You've got big balls Mr. Barnes— but that might've just cost you your life." Pierce threatened with a smile.

Suddenly there was movement heard from behind Bucky and before he could turn to investigate— you were now standing in between Bucky and your Father.

Bucky's heart swelled at you trying to protect him— he couldn't get over how precious you were. Your heart too big for your body.

"Father— just leave. You've caused enough damage." You spoke calmly, but Bucky could see your body still shaking.

Pierce stared down at you, watching your lip quiver and he almost smiled evilly at the sight. He'd let you believe you won— let your guard down for now.

"Sure thing peanut." He cooed, and you had to fight back the sob that threatened to bubble up.

The nickname was tainted— things that happened today burned into your brain. You wished you could wake up from this horrible dream.

Just as Pierce was waving off his men, signaling to them to go outside. He glanced up to Bucky— not wasting another breath on him. Lastly, Pierce lifted his hand like he was going to reach for you and he felt satisfied watching you flinch back into Bucky.

You gasped and pressed your back to Bucky— your heart pounding in your chest at your Father. Bucky felt your form shaking and he rested his hands on your lower back, hoping it'd bring you some comfort.

"Pathetic." Pierce mumbled as he walked out of the room— making it to the front door and slamming it as he exited.

Bucky felt your body jump at the slam of the door but otherwise noticed you relax as it was just you two in the room now. He walked around to your front, his hands hovering over your cheeks as he waited for your permission to touch you.

"Can I?" He asked.

You nodded numbly and relaxed as you felt his hands cup your face— cradling your cheeks with such gentleness.

Bucky turned your face slightly to the side so he could get a better view of your now irritated cheek, a palm sized mark covering the smooth skin. He winced and anger immediately started bubbling up from the idea that Pierce had put his hands on you— hurt you.

"Oh doll... I'm so sorry— I should've been there." He whispered, rubbing a gentle thumb over your swollen flesh. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You gazed into his eyes and listened to him apoligize— you wanted to laugh. He had nothing to be sorry for. He stuck up for you— protected you from your own Father. He was a constant by your side and you were happy to have him here with you in this moment. There was no one else you'd rather be with than him.

Your heart started beating fast again, but this time it wasn't from fear or anxiety— it was from the intense butterflies in your stomach from Bucky's gaze. Your eyes darted down to his mouth before they whipped back up to his eyes. Bucky noticed and gave your mouth a once over before he met your glossy eyes.

"Doll..." He warned, though he wanted the very same thing.

He just didn't think it was the appropriate time. You were vulnerable, and he didn't want to take advantage of you.

His warning had you thinking straight and you shook your head, but you still found yourself leaning in. Bucky watched as you leaned in and he kept himself rooted in his spot— making sure you controlled the pace. If this was going to happen— it was because you wanted it to. This would be for you— not him.

To his surprise, he didn't feel your soft lips on his— but instead he felt the plumpness of yours smush against his stubbled cheek. It was quick but held so many unspoken words. As you pulled away, your cheeks were flushed— as was his.

"You don't need to apologize, you were there for me. You're here for me now— so thank you James." You whispered hoarsely, emotions thick in your throat.

Bucky opened his mouth to say something, when you removed yourself from his hold and excused yourself upstairs. He watched with a heavy heart as you walked up the stairs, head hung low. It was clear that you were exhausted from todays events. Just thinking of everything that had happened to you, had his blood boiling all over again.

He couldn’t get the sound of your frightened yell out of his mind— it scarred him and he cursed himself for not being there to prevent it. He heard you— you didn’t think he needed to apologize. But he couldn’t just live on knowing you held the palm sized mark of your Father on your cheek. He felt absolutely terrible and followed shortly behind your form.

He knew you shouldn’t be alone right now— he also wasn’t going to leave your side. You needed someone— needed him. Bucky wanted to remind you that he wasn’t going anywhere.

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claypigeonpottery · 1 month

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What's the process like for slab building mugs? I've only done them on the wheel before and i was wondering how hard it is to get a smooth rotational symmetry when you don't have the wheel helping you

they’re pretty straightforward, but they definitely take practice. and I think an aspect of slab building (and hand building in general) is that it’s not going to be perfect. I had to learn to accept that and to love it for what it is

I use two tools to get my slab-built mugs nice and round:

1. a turntable/banding wheel. spinning it as I’m refining the shape helps keep it round, just like wheel-thrown pottery

and

2. The Cone

The Cone can be any cylinder that’s narrower at the bottom at wider at the top, and the right size to fit in your mug. just press it in and shape the rim to it, don’t leave it in the mug as the clay shrinks

but here’s the whole slab-building process!

under the cut

1. roll out clay.

this time I cut it straight from the bag so it’s air-bubble free, but otherwise it should be wedged first. I use a rolling pin with measured rings on the ends so I can easily roll it out 1/4” thick

2. I used to use a cardboard template and a pin tool for this (you can find the templates online and print them, or you can cut up a disposable cardboard cup to make a template)

but I upgraded to cutters a little while ago and I love them.

remember also to cut out a circle for the bottom of the mug.

3. smooth

4. let sit for a couple hours, or put it in front of a fan for awhile, so it’s not too floppy to work with. it should be flexible, workable, but not floppy. it shouldn’t crack if bent but it should stand up on its own once you’ve got it in a circular shape

5. I usually make a handle right before starting to build the mug, so it’s firm enough to work with by the time I’m done with the cylinder part of the mug. I prefer handle-making tools, rather than pulling them by hand

6. cut the mug edges at a 45 degree angle. you can eyeball it or use a tool. remember to flip the slab before cutting the other side, so they line up lol. I only made that mistake once.

I used to not do this step but my seams are a lot cleaner now.

7. score and slip, then join. once I’ve blended the two sides together a bit with my fingers, I like to use a soft rubber rib to smooth out the seam on the inside and outside, adding extra slip to fill any little gaps. it’ll be ugly at first, just keep refining it!

8. score and slip to attach the bottom piece to the cylinder. I add extra slip around the inside of the mug where the bottom attaches, and once I’ve flipped the mug back over, I smooth the extra slip along the seam on the inside with a brush or sponge, to help fill any gaps and attach everything nicely

9. here I usually use The Cone. the rim is going to warp again as I add my handle, so I’ll use the cone again later. it’s just helpful to have the rim round before adding a handle

10. attach handle. I like to attach them over the seam so as to leave the rest of the mug as smooth as possible for decorating

11. use The Cone again, refine the rim, cover mug with plastic and leave until leather hard

12. trim it, clean it up, etc (here’s one I prepared earlier!)

and here’s your mug!

#ask #asks #pottery #greenware #slab built pottery #slab building #hand built pottery #hand building #gif #tutorial #fairly silly #I’m sure I’m over explaining but whatever that’s what my brain wants rn

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astupidweeb69 · 9 months

Text

Unrequited (Yandere! Ticci Toby x Reader) Part 9

Links to Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Author’s Note: I've been rereading this chapter for about a week trying to edit it, but decided I'd just go ahead and post it. Happy holidays everybody!

Cross-posted on my Ao3 account, which I update more frequently.

Warnings: Swearing. Descriptions of Gore. Some threats of violence. (2,070 words)

____________________________________________________________

Leaves crunched underneath heavy boots, ragged and irritated breaths came out in clouds against the cold.

Toby was not pleased.

Not pleased with how things were going with you.

And not pleased with being texted by Tim.

Apparently there was some work to do and he had to ‘get his lazy ass over there’. The young proxy didn’t even know the details of what needed to be done. A supply run? Some more random campers in the area? Either way Toby was itching for a fight.

He could feel anger in his system bubbling and ready to boil over. Just imagining Tim’s smug face waiting for him, probably ready to spat some nonsense about how ‘he’s late’ or make a snide comment on his appearance. His face twitched furiously at the idea, and if anyone was unfortunate enough to see the way he walked through the woods now, they’d surely run in the other direction. There was murder in the man’s eyes.

It wouldn’t take long for Toby to find his teammate. That’s how things always worked though, they had a connection to find each other when they were supposed to, all he needed to do was walk mindlessly in a direction and let the forest guide him.

“Someone’s in a pissy mood.”

The smell of smoke let him know he found who he was looking for. Tim leaned on a tree, a wry smile on his face, a lit cigarette burning away at his fingertips. It was practically an extension of his hand at this point, the fucking chainsmoker. Toby learned to hate the scent of tobacco.

“Where’s Brian?” Toby frowned, ignoring Tim’s comment.

“Had something he needed to do.”

Tim looked disinterested in the conversation. Getting him to actually tell Toby what was going on was like pulling teeth. And Toby knew first hand how hard that could be.

“Suh-so? Why’d you cuh-call me out here?” The younger proxy fidgeted with the ends of his gloves.

Tim sighed, letting the last part of his cigarette drop to the ground, putting it out with his boot. “There’s been some weird things happening out here. Brian said you should come with me to investigate.”

Toby made note of how he said ‘Hoodie’. Tim’s way of hinting that he didn’t want him there. Typical.

“Wuh-what do you mean weird things?”

Tim motioned with his head for him to follow, walking away into some bushes, Toby raised one of his eyebrows before complying. There was a rancid stench in the air when he started following him, like something died. Not uncommon in the forest, but it was hard to stomach even for the most experienced woodsman.

They followed the smell of rotting flesh, down a small embankment. The dead leaves on the ground made it hard not to slip and fall, and Toby snickered when Tim lost his footing a couple times, making the older proxy shoot him a dirty look.

“There up ahead.” After walking a few paces, Tim pointed to a mangled pile of fur splayed out against a group of pine trees.

Toby’s eyes narrowed at the bloody mess in front of him, turning to the other man in irritation.

“You dragged me out here for a duh-dead deer?”

“Take a closer look, Rogers.”

Toby shoved past Tim, making a point to bump into his shoulder for using the nickname he hated. He pulled up the mouthguard hanging from his neck to cover his nose, but it didn’t block out the smell nearly as much as he’d hoped. It took a lot of willpower not to gag.

He scanned over the remains noting different sized bite marks and scratches that tore through the animal's belly, viscera pooling out and its black lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. A swarm of maggots had already started the process of decay.

Toby could see the red of Tim’s flannel out the corner of his eye.

“Well?”

“Okay, it’s a luh-little strange. I’ll give you that. The bite muh-marks look like they came from a human.”

“Anything else, detective?” Tim mused, clearly noticing something else but liked toying with the kid.

“Just fucking spit it out.”

The older man kneeled down, motioning to two different spots on the deer's hind legs. “They’re all different sizes, meaning more than one person did this.”

“Cuh-cool.” Toby deadpanned. “So what does that mean for us?”

“It means we need to keep an eye out for groups of ravin’ lunatics.”

“Don’t we already duh-do that?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. This is the second animal we’ve found like this in a week.”

“And yuh-you only thought to tell me now?”

“I was busy.” Tim shrugged, the corner of his lip curling up slightly. The man did not give two shits about warning Toby sooner. Probably didn’t even want to tell him now. If anything, Brian most likely had to convince him to.

The younger proxy scowled at him, tempted to escalate things, to cause another one of their fights ending with the two trying to claw the others' eyes out. Not that it would hurt him, and Toby always got some sick amusement seeing Tim in pain. But it would be dark soon, and he was itching to get back home. The thought of you back there tied up on his bed was making him scratch at his scar.

He needed to spend more time with you. The look in your eyes as he paced around the cabin…. The look of fear and hatred. It wasn’t unexpected, but it still bugged him. You were… a bit more of a firecracker than he’d hoped. And level-headed unfortunately. You were catching on a little too quickly, to just how…. Temperamental he could be. The memory of you staring at his hatchets came back to him. He needed you to see his softer side, needed you to warm up to him before the truth, the real truth, about what he was came out. Maybe if he stole an old TV and got some of those movies you liked….

“Rogers!”

A finger snapped inches from his face. Toby blinked.

“Wuh-What?”

“I told you we need to get goin’” Tim pushed Toby forward impatiently. “It’s almost night time. Come on.”

He could hear Tim muttering “Fuckin’ useless kid.” under his breath as he led the way.

Toby’s stomach twisted. That phrase got to him. Was something he’d heard a lot, from somewhere before, something in his past. Something familiar. Tim taunted him in ways that sparked a deep resentment, like an itch he could never fully scratch. A scab that wouldn’t heal.

They walked back the way they came in, up the hill and through the thick bushes, without saying a word. One thing they could agree on was the less they talked, the better.

Luckily Toby’s cabin wasn’t too far. Fiddling with the ends of his jacket, combing his hair, absentmindedly, he was glad to be rid of the old fucker finally and get back to what was important.

But things never worked out the way he wanted.

Toby felt a hand on his arm. Tim lit up another cigarette, his eyes narrowed at Toby, before taking a long, deep, drag into his lungs. .

Smoke billowed from the man’s mouth, surrounding him in a thick cloud as he spoke.

“Before you go, I need somethin’ from your cabin.”

Fuck.

Toby stared at him for a moment. His mind went blank, before finally speaking up.

“Wuh-what do you need?”

He’d just act normal. It wouldn’t be a big deal. He could figure something out.

“Hoods and I are running low on some supplies. We know Kate keeps some of her stuff in your basement. Figured we’d borrow some things.”

The boy twitched and fidgeted under the pressure, trying to come up with ways to get out of it. If Tim saw you… Toby didn’t even want to think about what he’d do. He honestly didn’t know.

“What… kuh-kind of things-sss?” Shit. His stutter was getting worse.

Tim raised a brow. Likely annoyed by how standoffish the other proxy was being at something simple.

“Like food n’ ammo. We’ve been too busy to go into town.” Tim paused, and looked almost accusingly at him. “And I know you’ve been leaving the forest a lot recently.”

Toby chewed on the side of his cheek. Of course the other proxies sensed his disappearance. He’d been too preoccupied with you to even think about that being a possibility. That didn’t mean they cared when he was gone, they weren’t his babysitter. But now Tim had him over a barrel. There was no way he could deny him supplies now, without admitting the reason he went into town was for… something out of the ordinary.

“Fuh-fine.” He sighed, trying to collect his thoughts. “Just duh-don’t touch any of my stuff.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

______________________________________________________________

The cabin was just up ahead. Toby kept glancing back at Tim who seemed too preoccupied in his own thoughts to notice.

“Whuh-wait outside for a second. There’s suh-something I need to take care of first.”

Tim eyed him carefully. They both stood on the porch, tension rising, Tim’s body stiffening and his hands balling into fists for a brief moment. Toby fully expecting him to lash out.

Tim always thought the boy was weird. Fucked up in the head. Overly-emotional, unstable, obnoxious, and he’s seen the worst of Toby’s manic episodes. He was almost certain the kid engaged in some light cannibalism, from the way he mumbled to himself in his delusional states. He was so fucking glad they didn’t live under the same roof anymore.

Finally, after a few moments of staring the other down, Tim relaxed. “Whatever, just don’t take too long.” The older man decided he’d do whatever it took to get the fuck outta there, even if that meant having to obey. Despite how much that bruised his ego, he just wanted to go home and sleep.

Toby quickly went inside, slamming the door behind him, and Tim sat on the steps of the porch with a reluctant grunt.

Twitching anxiously, he ran into the room where you were tied to the bed. You jumped, obviously startled, by the door aggressively being opened. Normally he’d mock you, wanting to give a fake ‘awwww’ at how freaked out you were by his presence. He was still mad about how you've been treating him. But he didn’t have the time for that right now.

He opened the drawer to his nightstand, getting out an old t-shirt.

“Wha-” You started to question, but he cut you off by shoving the cloth in your mouth painfully. He tied it around your head, a little too tight, but he needed to make sure you were properly gagged and wouldn’t be heard.

Toby leaned down to your ear, speaking in a low hiss. “You nuh-need to be fucking quiet. I have a guest. He’s dangerous, so don’t get any ideas. No one’s coming to save you.”

He gripped your jawline tightly. “Do you uh-understand?” You stared back at him. Toby narrowed his eyes, tightening his hold on your face even more, until you finally nodded your head.

He released his hand and exited the room, mentally preparing himself to interact with Tim again, and with a deep breath, opened the front door.

“Okay, you can cuh-come in now.”

Tim groaned as he got up to follow him inside.

Toby couldn’t help letting his eyes dart to his bedroom door when they walked past. He led Tim down the hall where the basement stairs were, which he started keeping locked the day he captured you. He didn’t need you to see what was down there. Hopefully not ever.

After Toby unlocked the door and showed him the various backpacks stolen from victims, Tim rummaged through a couple before collecting the items he needed. Mostly food, a couple old boxes of ammo. Nothing special.

His heart was pounding when they climbed the stairs again, so close to getting this over with. Wanting nothing more than to have him out of the house. Away from you.

But without warning, Tim stopped in the hallway,

It was so sudden Toby almost bumped into his back.

“Whuh-what is it?”

There was a dangerously long pause, before Tim’s head turned to look behind his shoulder. Toby's eyes widened in fear.

“Did you hear that?”

#ticci toby #creepypasta #ticci toby x reader #toby rogers #yandere creepypasta x reader #yandere ticci toby x reader #unrequited #yandere #fanfiction #my writing #masky creepypasta #ticci toby creepypasta #ticci toby x you #yandere creepypasta

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