gundamwingandaprayer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gundamwingandaprayer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2023-07-01 11:32 am
gundamwingandaprayer) wrote in bakerstreet2023-07-01 11:32 am
Daddy af
   Doesn't everyone like to be pampered and spoiled? You could certainly understand the desire. How about receiving the benefits of experience and knowledge...through someone else, someone older than you and more distinguished? Be good, then, and you'll be rewarded. Be bad - well, remember: a punishment isn't off the table for someone with your youth. They're so young - yet so, so tempting. But you know what they say. The more forbidden the fruit, the sweeter the juice. They're absolutely off-limits. And wouldn't you love to taste them, no matter if you feel guilty or not? Look at yourself. Do you feel like a pervert? This person could be an outlier, or maybe you've always had a weakness, even if you didn't realize it before. At least you can take care of them like few others chasing after them could. You know exactly what they want and need.
(possible) SCENARIOS 1. PARENT & CHILD: So, have you been bad? You know what happens to bad kids... 2. OLDER SIBLING & YOUNGER SIBLING: If the parents aren't in the picture, someone has to take care of business. 3. OTHER FAMILIAL RELATIONSHIP: Keepin' it in the family. 4. TEACHER & STUDENT: Don't stand, don't stand so, don't stand so close to me...at least not during schools hours. 5. DOCTOR & PATIENT: An apple a day keeps the doctor away, unless you want to play. 6. CUSTOMER & STRIPPER/DANCER/HOOKER: Older people have the money, younger people need the money. Surely something can be worked out. 7. JAILBAIT: One of you better watch out, because this is trouble with a capital T. 8. THE BABYSITTER: ...you've seen the porn. I don't have to describe this. 9. CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURES: If you don't see something you want, make it up. |
Troy Dantes | OC
becca ~ original ~ ota
Felix del Bosque | Amber Diceless TTRPG | M/M
Claire Bennet ∞ Heroes ∞ OTA
ryoshu | limbus company
emil sinclair | limbus company
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ignore the repost i made a mistake
Sinclair recalled it starting about a month ago. No- was it a month? or two? He didn't bother to keep track of time. There were two times of the day as far as he's concerned, break time and work time.
Vergilius was allegedly very generous to offer all of the Sinners a 12 hour break time. From what Sinclair has been told by his coworkers, no Wing or Office would ever give that sort of luxury. You were lucky to even get one in the first place, and most would not offer more than an hour and a half of rest.
Sinclair used this to his advantage, every mission he seemed emotionally and physically fatigued more so than anyone else. Most of the break time was him spending his time sleeping, often being woken up by night terrors. Unsurprisingly, most involving Kromer. Sometimes the faces of his family, classmates whose names he couldn't remember, Demian and others... None of them ever were in a good spot, usually being tortured or already have died. The moment when Sinclair walked on Kromer killing his family in front of him would often replay over, and over, and over again.
It was a detriment to him, when he woke up he would usually be shaking, covered in sweat. And during the day he would space out and recall the brief memories he had from what happened during his dreams like a play that never stopped. At least until he went back to sleep after a long day of work. And then a new one would bloom.
One night, the usual had changed. Sinclair had woken up during the early hours of the night, but not by his nightmares, it was a knock at his door. A rather loud series of knocks at that. He was barely lucid, but felt obligated to answer. When he opened the door... it was honestly the last person he expected to see at his door.
It was Ryoshu.
At first, he thought he was still dreaming. Because why would she come to him for anything? Ryoshu was always isolated from the rest of the Sinners, most having difficulty having a casual conversation with her. Sinclair was quite good at picking up her acronyms as soon as she would say them, so in a way there was just a hint of a bond between them. But even then...
"Can't sleep." were the only two words she said to him.
Without Sinclair having a moment to say a word to her, Ryoshu would just let herself in. Sinclair immediately flooded her with questions, all of them would be met with silence. Not even a scoff. Admitting defeat, he would go back to his bed. It lacked a bed frame, or pillows, nothing like the comfortable one he slept on back home.
Sinclair wanted to go back to sleep, badly. But he wouldn't let himself until Ryoshu left, or at least until he had gotten some sort of explanation. They decided to chat by exchanging eye contact with one another, it was becoming increasingly uncomfortable to keep looking at Ryoshu in the eyes and would barely blink. She crouched next to his mattress, frozen in place.
It was like a strange sort of fight, but Sinclair admitted defeat and broke the silence again to see if he could get anything out of Ryoshu.
"Why are you here?"
"What's wrong?"
"Why me?"
With those 3 questions in rapid succession to eachother, it set Ryoshu off. But what he got wasn't a verbal response, everything after that was blurry in his head when he tried to recall it. Probably because of the lack of sleep he got that night. But he still remembers the sensation of Ryoshu's hands suddenly on him, The combination of one of her hands gloved, the sensation of leather on his bare skin. And the one she always left exposed, her skin was rough and littered with scars.
Sinclair pleaded for Ryoshu to explain what was happening, why she was doing this, and telling her to stop repeatedly, so much it didn't sound like a word anymore. It was just a pathetic noise he would cry out. His body became unbearably warm, increasing with time, tears streamed down his face. He couldn't do anything about it, he was significantly weaker than Ryoshu, he wasn't even restrained. His limbs just felt unconnected to him, like they never existed in the first place.
It hurt, when suddenly he'd feel something sharp against his neck. He didn't even look down, his eyes were staring at the ceiling as an attempt to distract himself. And when Sinclair expressed the pain he felt, Ryoshu's gloved fingers easily snaked its way into Sinclair's mouth, He felt like he was going to suffocate. Even though his manager had the ability to revive him, in the moment he didn't even think about Dante. It was only Ryoshu covered all over his mind. He was going to die, Ryoshu was going to kill him and his heart felt like it might as well burst.
It kept continuing until he passed out, probably from multiple things. When he woke up, he saw bruises and cuts on his skin. Dried blood scattered across his face and chest. He remembered immediately what caused, and it scared him remembering to the point where he had a panic attack.
After he threw up his anxiety out, swearing he saw something red in there, he continued on his day like it was nothing. It was just another day of journeying into unknown places, slaying humans and things that weren't human. He felt like he had to tell someone, he didn't want to keep it to himself. He should at least tell Rodya, she'd understand! But would that really be the case? Would anything even be done about it? So he suppressed it. Limbus Company was full of depraved individuals, something like this might've had happened to them before and they'd treat it like it was nothing out of the ordinary for the City.
During the next few weeks, at random times. Ryoshu would stop by his room again, to do the same thing. But when it hapened again, he at least knew what to expect. He still didn't want it, but debating with Ryoshu of all people was a pointless endeavor.
And now at the present, late at night, he hadn't even slept yet. When he heard the familiar knocks at the door, but Sinclair could tell something was different. Instead of knocks, they were more like bangs against the door. It sounded loud enough that it could make dents. It worried him, but it was like something took over him. He didn't want to answer, he knew it would be Ryoshu again. But nevertheless he opened the doorknob hesitantly, looking down at the ground. Not looking at her. ]
ur fine!! also sorry 4 delay i had work
sinclair is such an obvious choice. he understands in some small way what she means, regardless of her outward disarrangement of any set social standards. most people don't give her the time of day, and she's completely satisfied with that.
— until it gets like this. late nights breed contempt, a swarm of thoughts in her brain like flies on a bloodied corpse. it's nothing she can sleep to, but everything she can act with.
it's particularly bad this night. her striking on sinclair's door isn't subtle or quiet, but god forbid anyone confront her right now as her heart beats so fast to the point of panic.
her dreams aren't anything to enjoy, either — paintings (red, always a lot of red) across canvas, tortured souls bleeding from every orifice, demons feasting on flesh and entrails...and beautiful, innocent things falling to their death in an absolutely stunning display. tonight, that one particular, pretty face engulfed in flames stuck in her mind—-
it sometimes feels like she isn't entirely awake, but it's obvious she isn't sleeping. it's better if sinclair thinks she's half-sleepwalking, anyway. he doesn't need to know any details at all, and he isn't going to tell anyone. ryoshu only exhales heavily this time when he opens the door finally, a little late for her tastes as her mind is buzzing... she brushes past sinclair initially, shoulder hitting him as she enters his room without any formal invitation other than the door opening.
aah, her heart is still beating so fast as she thinks about the vivid image plaguing her mind. sinclair's too slow right now, and ryoshu needs him to be exactly what she needs him to be a little faster.
her hand grabs for sinclair's wrist as she walks past him, forcing him to walk with her at this frenzied pace as she practically drags him to the bed with her. ]
works stressful. i get it T__T
Every instance this happened, the urge to open his mouth and say anything only grew, festering inside of him and trapping him. Even if Sinclair had the words, the overwhelming scent of tobacco and the blood of dozens forced his throat to close. Anything that escaped where whimpers and cries, they carried no meaning. He didn't vocalize them for Ryoshu to stop, nor to keep going.
Whatever idea of Limbus Company he initially had, swirled and churned with a mixture of reds, purples, and black colors. It's not as if he was clueless about the nature of the City prior to this, the curtains opened a fair amount of years ago, revealing him a blinding light that burned into his retinas. The scene on that Christmas night, the sparks of mechanical material dancing, the soundtrack of flesh and metal being pierced would probably be repeating, replaying in his head until he died. If he could die, that is.
A wish, his wish, could be granted for the price of mortality.
Demian wouldn't come and console him as often as he used to, the only person that could go to for comfort with the irrational feelings he had, anxieties he couldn't express in the City. In Limbus Company, he was virtually all alone again.
In Sinclair's mind, he would simulate conversations with his dead family members. His sister, his mother, and his father.
His father...
He couldn't remember what his face looked like anymore, at least not the one made from flesh and bone. Trying to visualize him only resulted in a less-than-human mass, more so than his prosthetic head. The multiple eyes protruding through his skin and falling out of their sockets, the dozens of mouths he would talk to him with, the skin on his face melting slowly. He could hear the quiet drips of blood slowly forming a pool.
What would his father do if he was in a situation like this...?
Even after an age where any person could fend for themselves, Sinclair had still relied on him until he physically couldn't be with him anymore. He was a wise man, a successful man. Someone who seemed to know the answer to everything, and when Sinclair couldn't make decisions for himself; it was his father he would turn to, to make the right decisions for him.
A figure he looked up to so much, even if their visions on prosthetics were different. He trusted Sinclair as much as Sinclair trusted him. He'll never forgive himself for breaking his promise, for sharing the one thing he should've kept quiet about for the sake of brief attention from his classmates. It cost Sinclair his whole family's life.
He often thinks if his father would still think highly of him if he could see him now, if he'd be ashamed. The reason Sinclair was here was partially because of the indirect murder of his entire family. No matter what his reaction would be, Sinclair wanted to know, and debated the answer in his head constantly. Which is probably what caused his vision of him to become so grotesque.
These things weren't a concern for Sinclair when Ryoshu was with him alone, it's almost like Ryoshu provided a distraction for him when she would touch and violate him. His mind even when clear of thoughts, still was cloudy.
It was clear that the both of them kept horrible things inside of their hearts that slowly rotted them from the inside, it would never be communicated. At least, not on Ryoshu's end. There was a reason she always came to his room, how with him; she was still seperated from everyone else. But even if Sinclair couldn't read her mind, he was sure that the loneliness that she felt was something that this company wouldn't alone solve.
Ryoshu wasn't capable of emotions such as empathy, he thought. While she never would willingly open up her heart, in this intimate moments he could almost see her heart chained up and could barely beat.
If Sinclair tried to actually do something, to speak up, it wouldn't go well. No matter what.
While he laid on his own mattress like a lifeless corpse, his eyes slowly fluttered open. After so long, he could look her in the eyes. Behind her eyes, he could see nothing. Was she mindless in a similar way during these sleepless nights?
With hesitation, his arm shoke. While one of his hands was restricted movement because of Ryoshu's grasp, he uses his free arm to grasp at her wrist too. Albeit with less force, she could probably shake it off easily.
It kept shaking, he was ready to tear a gaping hole in his throat. It would be dry, only hydrated by his own blood. But... Ryoshu couldn't kill him now, right? She'd have to explain to Dante why and how she found him dead in his room with wounds that could never be self inflicted. Whatever pain she'd give, he would try to brace himself for it. As he pried his throat open, it burned, from blossoming in a way like this, would he even be able to speak coherently...? ]
Ryoshu.
[ His voice was hoarse, it probably didn't sound like he was saying her name. But after saying it once, he'd try to make it more clear. ]
Ryoshu...
James "Handsome" Hanson | OC | M/M
Spock | Star Trek: Strange New Worlds
sanjiro kawanari | oc | m/f
Aimi Ikehara | Original Character | f/f
Nester Abernathy/The Loch Ness Monster | cryptid OC | OTA
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Felix wasn't big on missions from the crown. He was rather anti-establishment that way. But the King had gone through the proper channels to at least make Felix pay attention to the request, and he didn't really have anything better to do, so...
So here he was, hopping through various shadow worlds, looking for the right one. Parking his car and stepping out, Felix looked around for any sign of his quarry actually existing in this specific world.
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But sometimes, he prefers to say in the water. He enjoys giving them a thrill. It's never truly overt or overwhelming. Not these days. Instead, it's only really noticeable by anyone watching the water for too long. The dark waves slowly gaining a larger and larger shadow until something truly gargantuan is visible just below the surface. Sometimes a roll of his back breaks the surface. It's there and then it's gone leaving those who see it to wonder what they had seen: a trick of the light, a school of fish, a big cloud, or perhaps the monster of myth. Whatever it was, it's gone far too quickly to know for certain.
But it's there. It's clearly there and the thrum of truly ancient power all but wafts from the loch in the shadow's wake. He lingers a bit too long before diving below the surface. When he comes up again, it will be in an overgrown inlet, not as a monster, but as a man, clothing shimmering onto his body even as he leaves the waters.
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That little bit of showmanship, that's all Felix needs to catch the trail.
He's leaning against one of the trees on the shore of the inlet, not there a moment before but there now, the briefest of rainbow shimmers around his form that could also be a trick of the light before they're gone.
"Neat trick, Daddy," Felix calls with a slow clap. "Are the clothes necessary though?"
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He sniffs the air, as if trying to catch the scent of the magic he's seen. The young man against the tree doesn't smell of anything he recognizes. It's interesting. He smiles a smile that for a second has far far too many too sharp teeth before he's making his way completely onto dry land.
"Normally, aye." his voice is a deep bestial rumble, Scottish accent thick. "Only because I donnae get visit from lads what ken where to find me. Usually I go find them. Which requires more clothes, less scales."
He stops walking only a little bit away. In that small distance, his form has settled. Only hus shadow and his eyes, far too green with reptilian slitted pupils, give him away. "Though what's a pretty young lad doing at my loch? Hunting beasties?"
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Sure it was a mission from the crown, but that didn't mean he couldn't have fun first.
"If I say yes are you going to eat me~?" He asked flirtatiously. For what it was worth, aside from a knife in his boot that seemed more utilitarian than anything he didn't have any weapons on him.
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"Oh, lad, you do look delicious. I might have a nibble." And because yes, he actually has literally eaten people that have attacked him in the past (monster gonna monster) he amends. "But donnae worry that pretty head. I'd not be the one swallowing. I'm sure a little boy with a smart mouth knows all about what's under a kilt."
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Supernatural healing let you take a lot of risks that would otherwise be inadvisable, and a lack of care for your own wellbeing rather covered the rest. Felix hooks his thumbs into his belt loops, approaching Abernathy the rest of the way until they're close enough to be almost touching so he can tilt his head up to look at the other man's face.
"Is what's under yours the usual equipment? My smart mouth and I would love to find out."
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His growling purr is uttered right next to an ear. He isn't afraid of this boy. He's charmed. "I have two." He's teasing but only a little. In his real body, the monster in the lake, he does indeed have two. "But for now? Aye. I'm as human as I'm getting. Would want to scare away such an adventurous lad. But ask nicely and maybe Daddy can make some changes." After all Felix had called him Daddy first.
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He could probably ask for a name or offer his own, but he did call the man Daddy first, and so sue him, he's quite enjoying being a 'good lad' right now.
"I'm better at being a brat than asking nicely," Felix admitted, his voice low and husky as he took his thumbs from his belt loops and reached out to find Nester's waist. "But I'd be willing to try for that kind of treat, Daddy~."
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He steps back just enough to have another lingering look at Felix. "A brat? I might enjoy that from time to time. You donnae always have to be a good little boy. Good boys donnae go on their knees for old men."
There's that surge, a shifting of power and skin. Nothing visible for now, but it's just the barest hint of just how primordial and immense power he has at his fingers. "If it's too much for my good lad, I can make it a bit more what you're used to."
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"No such thing as too much of a good thing," Felix insists, indeed sinking to his knees on that soft green grass.
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"Ah. So the brat likes to be spoiled as well. That's good to know. Depending on how good you are to me, maybe I'll keep spoiling you." Maybe. Even if this is a clever honeytrap, he's far too old to get caught by a pretty face and a prettier mouth.
But he is more inclined to at least listen. Because Felix does look very good down there. He's eager to see if this boy will actually bulk at the sight of two pricks under his kilt. Thick and heavy at the bottom, with the slight ridges of soft dark scales and bumps up the shaft, tapering only barely at the tip. He can make it human again, but he wants to see just how willing this boy is to truly enjoy a monster.
"Still good down there, lad?"
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His eyes do go wide to see what Nester is packing under his kilt. Not just two, but two very well endowed clocks, not quite human. It makes his mouth water, his own cock hardening in his too-tight pants.
"Better than 'good' - if this isn't spoiling me, I'm not sure I'm ready for what is, Daddy," Felix practically purred. A hemipenis on a partner might be a new thing for Felix, but handling two cocks at once was hardly a new concept. He reached up to take one in each hand, curling his fingers around the thick lengths of him. Getting a feel for him before ducking his head in to run his tongue along one head, then the other.
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It's a plus that he also looks damn pretty down there, a hand around each cock. He hasn't had a lover this eager in what feels like centuries. "Oh. I think I can find a lot of ways to spoil such a good lad. Though I think putting them both in your tight little arse at once would be something Daddy would have to work you up to taking." As if this isn't just going to be a one time thing. As if he wouldn't just find reasons to fuck this young man as often as he could given the chance.
Though that does all depend on what this boy wants, outside a good tumble.
He'll ask later. After that clever tongue is done. Those licks bring him to full hardness. He purrs his delight, the hand in Felix's hair going a little tighter. "That's right, lad. Have a good taste. Just don't tease Daddy too much. Else I might forget to be nice." He is a beast after all. He does have ancient instincts that would see him happily shoving himself down the poor boy's throat.
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"Does that mean I get my hair pulled and my face fucked if I'm a bad boy?" Felix asked, voice already getting a little rough before he took the other cock into his mouth this time. The way Nester was stroking his hair, the promises he was making - Felix was getting painfully hard in record time as he squirmed on his knees. If he'd kept the normal human-seeming cock, Felix would have been able to deepthroat him no problem, but this required a little build-up.
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The mouth pulls away and Nester smiles down at him. It's not the benevolent smile of a kind Papa. There's far too many teeth for that. He can be soft if he wants but he's enjoying feeding this boy's want for a thrill.
He's a very strict Daddy. "It does. Bad little boys get punished. " He shifts his weight, tries to pry Felix's thighs open with a foot so he can put his leg between them and give the poor squirming boy something to hump against. And if Daddy gets too angry, I'll have to put you over my knee and make you squeel for me with just my hands."
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That unkind smile with too many teeth just sends another shot of arousal lance through him. He couldn't get enough.
Shifting his legs wider to shamelessly rock against Nester's leg like a bitch in heat, Felix pulls back just enough from the dedicated attempts to swallow the man down to be more teasing suckles.
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Of course, he does need to follow through on his threats. He wouldn't be a very good Daddy if he didn't do exactly what he said he would do. It's an early lesson for this boy to learn. The beast means what he says. So when that mouth pulls back to just barely give him what he wants, he lets out a low, warning snarl. One hand tangles into hair and he does yank, to hold that head still. Not too hard. Nester needs to go in increments, to see just how much the younger man can actually take. He honestly doesn't want to accidently break the boy. His hips snap forward. "Apologize, lad. Show Daddy how sorry you are for teasing him." Then twice, to see just how much he can shove down that willing throat.
He'll back off if he sees actual distress.
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He was kind of fucked. He didn't care. As long as there were people in the multiple universes out there who were willing to take advantage of that, why should he? Everyone wins.
His golden eyes have gone dark with lust and want and an abject adoration from the rough treatment as he looks up at Nester, sucking him hard as he takes him in deeper, farther down his throat as he gets more used to the size of him. He'll probably act up again sooner rather than later to see how far he can push Nester, but first he wants to be crystal clear how much being punished for his misbehavior is exactly what he wants.
Chazz Princeton ( Yu-Gi-Oh! GX ) OTA
Kwon Dal ( Original ) m/m