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another-lost-mc · 1 year

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sharing snacks with thirteen & mephistopheles

content: sfw. gn!reader. fluff, developing relationships. solomon slander in thirteen's section. mephisto is a bit rude in his because it's him.

word count: 1.8k

THIRTEEN

It’s a typical day for you: sitting in the RAD cafeteria at lunch, nestled between two brothers who are bickering about a topic you have no real interest in.

You’re giving Beel your uneaten half-a-sandwich when you feel someone’s hand touch your shoulder gently.

“I have something unexpected to take care of in the human world,” Solomon says loud enough to hear him over the noise of Levi and Mammon arguing beside you. “Thirteen is expecting to see me in our next class together. Do you think you can let her know I won’t be able to make it?”

Solomon hardly asks you for favours, and you don’t mind the excuse to leave the rowdy demon brothers before you get caught in another food fight.

“Sure,” you say, returning his smile. You tuck away your leftover lunch - a bottle of water, an unopened bag of pretzels, and a double-chocolate muffin - into your school bag.

“I’ll bring you back a treat later,” he promises with a charming smile before strolling away. After he takes a few steps, he spins around suddenly and waves at you. “You’ll find her in the alchemy lab on the third floor!”

You want to make sure you aren’t late for class so it’s a brisk walk up the three flights of stone stairs that lead to the lab Solomon was referring to.

When you open the door and step into the corridor leading to the lab, it’s completely vacant.

You can hear Thirteen doing something so you approach the doorway quietly and peek your head inside.

Thirteen seems to be using some sort of levitation magic on herself, and she’s studying an elaborate set of wires and pulleys hanging above the doorway; there’s a small cage in her hands too, and inside is what can only be described as a bouncing ball of radioactive goo.

She glances down when she hears you and she cackles gleefully.

“Ah, careful there human - you don’t want this getting on your skin,” Thirteen warns you with a grin.

She’s tossing the cage up and down in her palm like it’s a toy, and you think you can hear the blob-creature in the cage growl menacingly each time she jostles it.

“Is that your—“ you pause, blinking when the blob gurgles unpleasantly and Thirteen hisses at it in response, “...pet?”

She throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, you’re too cute! This isn’t a pet. It’s the Ooey-Gooey Sticky Wicket version 2.0 - fun-sized!”

She mumbles something under her breath about “that smug wizard and his stupid face” and it suddenly clicks for you why Solomon found an excuse not to come to class today.

“About that…” you trail off, watching her face grow thunderous when you explain that Solomon won’t be in his afternoon classes today.

She cancels the levitation spell she was using and lands on her feet with a heavy thud, pulling down the rest of her trap without care.

She opens a small bag and sets it on the floor. You watch in amazement when she turns around and picks up parts of her trap, throwing them over her shoulder and they seem to disappear into the bag without it changing size or shape.

“Of course he knew,” she mutters angrily, “that circus clown thinks he’s so clever,” she complains as she tosses more of her trap into the magical purse. “And he had the nerve to send you!”

You wince at the harsh tone she uses and she seems to realize her mistake. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,” she says sheepishly, tossing the Ooey-Gooey-Whatsitcalled cage into her purse and zipping it shut. “I’d hate for you to get oozed by accident - humans are so delicate!” Her face twists into a frown. “Most of you are, anyway.”

She picks up the bag and slings it over her shoulder and you can’t help but ask, “Is that bag charmed? It’s like something from Mary Poppins.”

She tilts her head. “I don’t know what a ‘merry poppings’ is, but it’s a little invention of mine - handy for sorcerer trapping on the go!” She winks at you. “Like it? I can make you one.”

She walks past you, snapping the strap of your bag against your shoulder lightly as she skips down the hall towards the stairs.

You jog to catch up. “Isn’t this your next class?” you ask. You know lunch break is almost over and the bell’s going to ring any minute now.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, goody two-shoes, but I missed my lunch and if my trap is ruined, I might as well get something to eat first if I have nothing else to look forward to.” The pout in her voice is cute and you try not to smile.

You touch her arm to stop her, and her eyes widen when you rummage through your bag and offer her your muffin from earlier - you know she likes sweets and hope it cheers her up even a tiny bit.

She looks between you and the muffin before she smiles in a way that feels gentler and more genuine than her usual mischievous grins.

“The world would be a better place if more humans were like you,” she says before plopping a piece of the muffin top into her mouth.

MEPHISTOPHELES

When Mephisto approaches you for a favour after most of the other student council members left campus for the day, you know he must be desperate.

Despite your best attempts at staying out of his way and avoiding his ire, he still seems as unimpressed with you now as he did the first time you met him.

You’re not quite clear on the details, but apparently some mishap in the Newspaper Club office - something involving the Little Ds having a spat that led to an all-out brawl - means that the special edition of tomorrow’s newspaper has to be reprinted and finished.

There’s a special ceremony tomorrow and several distinguished invitees are going to be in attendance; the newspaper is supposed to be handed out to all students and guests to celebrate RAD’s recent achievements.

The face he makes when he realizes he has to ask you for help, lacking any other viable options, almost makes you want to refuse him out of spite - but you’ve been hard at work preparing for this too and it would be a waste to ruin it now.

Not to mention, what would Lucifer say if he found out something went wrong the day before this important event and you did nothing to help?

Mephisto escorts you to a temporary office space where he’s already set up a borrowed computer and printer.

You regret asking what happened to the ones in the Newspaper Club’s office; surely the damage wasn’t that bad, right?

“I don’t know how a food fight broke out, but they got Devil Sauce inside the Newspaper Club printer - INSIDE IT! How did they even–?” he continues ranting angrily about the Little Ds while you look over his current progress.

The newspapers are almost finished printing, so all that’s left is to fold them and insert them into envelopes.

You suggest the most obvious solution - “I’ll fold them if you want to take care of the envelopes?”

You asked giving him the choice of which task he would prefer, but instead he rolls his eyes, muttering “Obviously” under his breath when he sits down in front of the box of envelopes.

It’s boring and tedious work, but it’s not complicated - and you don’t mind doing this if it means helping RAD look its best in front of special guests.

Mephisto is quiet in his place across the table from you, and after the first few minutes working together he’s refrained from more pointed insults or sarcastic remarks about your intelligence, or your human heritage - or anything about you, really.

You haven’t eaten dinner yet - the hunger isn’t enough to bother you at this point - but you both startle when a rumble from your stomach breaks the silence.

Mephisto glances at the clock and raises an eyebrow at you like he’s surprised your body is capable of making such a racket - but when you expect him to insult you some more, he asks, “Have you not eaten anything?”

You shake your head and continue folding, explaining you would get something to eat once this was done.

It’s unclear what bothers him so much about your reply, but he stands up from his seat and leaves the office suddenly without a word.

You can’t even ask where he’s going with how quickly he left, and after gaping in surprise at the doorway he disappeared through, you brush it off and get back to work.

It’s nearly ten minutes later when you hear Mephisto return, and you don’t bother to look up from your folding.

You do look surprised when he puts a takeaway cup and paper bag on the table beside you, and you watch him sit down with a cup and bag of his own.

“What’s the matter?” he asks you defensively. “I thought you liked tea?”

“I do…” you say cautiously, wondering what’s going on. Is this a prank?

You must be looking at the cup like it's full of poison because he puffs up his chest in indignation. “Humans are so weak, I need you to be focused if we’re going to finish these at a respectable hour,” he says like it’s obvious, like there couldn’t be any other motivation to bring you a snack.

You take a sip from your tea cautiously - it’s a common Devildom blend, black and unsweetened. It’s not how you normally drink it, but it’s still warm and comforting.

After a few more sips, you peek into the paper bag. It looks like a Hellfire cheese sandwich, not too spicy, and you eat with quiet satisfaction.

Mephisto is eating his own food - the same thing he ordered for you by the looks of it - and he nearly chokes on his mouthful of food when you thank him.

He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs at his mouth, but when he realizes your words are genuine - why wouldn’t they be? - he shrugs, saying that he’s only doing what he thinks Diavolo would want.

It’s not like he cares about your well-being, but the he knows the Prince does.

You finish your impromptu meal without anymore conversation, and it’s not long after that the job is complete and he’s shooing you from the office while he finishes up by himself.

He wants to ask you if you would like a ride home because he knows his chauffeur is waiting for him outside, but he doesn't.

He wants to ask what you take in your tea for future reference only, but he doesn’t.

All he offers is a stiff, “Thank you for your help” before he turns away from you and listens to you gather your belongings and leave, your footsteps fading into silence.

read more: obey me! masterlist

#obey me undateables #mephistopheles x reader #mephisto x reader #thirteen x reader #obey me fluff #omswd fluff #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #gn!reader

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acapelladitty · 9 months

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Whole Day Off: The Continuation (Part 10)

Summary: Having agreed to return to the basement, you find that Crane has prepared a wicked medical examination which pushes both your limits and also the delicate line which seperates reward and punishment.

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader (6.7k words)

Full series also available on AO3

Pulling into your preferred parking space outside of the warehouse, your fingers are quick to turn the dial down on the music which is blaring across your ears. The level of noise, delicately chosen to cover the slight rattling of something metallic within the bonnet of the car, wouldn’t be appreciated by anyone in the nearby vicinity but it would hide the worst of it until you could get the bastard booked in with a mechanic.

A simple shift dress covers most of your skin, the opaque, dark material hiding the cute black lace underwear set which lay below. It was a small indulgence, the underwear coming in at a little more expensive than you would typically enjoy but the way the thin fabric hugged and held your skin in all the right places made the price tag that bit easier to swallow.

Instinctively, you reach to the seat on the passenger side to pick up your black bag, its contents crammed full of the various toys and tools which you typically found yourself subject to during a session, but your fingers stuttered in place as you recall that Crane already had the bag, having taken it with him as he left your apartment.

The air is as cold as ever and you grit your teeth against the chill as you walk on steady legs towards the metal door of the warehouse. Slipping within, your feet tread a familiar path to the second doorway which acts as the final barrier between you and common sense. Hesitating at the door, you pause to take a deep breath. Nerves tingle across your frame as your fingers dance along the handle but you steel your spine and continue. Pushing the door open with your shoulder, you descend the stairs as the metal creaks shut behind you.

Your eyes seek him out immediately, his back still turned to you as he finishes writing something on a thin notepad at his workstation. However, his attention is quick to shift as he stands to his full height and turns his face in your direction just as your feet hit the final step of the stairs.

“Hey.” You smile brightly to cover the anxiety which is tugging at your chest.

“Good evening.” There is a hint of unfamiliar giddiness to his deep tone. “I’m,” his pause is tactful and you can see him choose the words carefully, “glad you made it.”

“I did agree to come back and I’m a woman of my word.” Pushing through the hesitation, you slip slightly closer to him. “Besides, you have my bag and how’s a girl supposed to get anything done when all her favourite toys are missing.”

His brow quirks at your brazenness as a smirk settles across his thin lips. His hands delve into the pockets of the off-white lab coat which hangs over his thin frame.

“Bold as brass tonight, witty girl. Very interesting. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

And, just like that, the nerves were back but now they were wrapped in a seedy arousal which dried your mouth out in an instant.

“Follow me.” Crane demands, thin hands wrapping around your elbow to guide you forwards. “I have something to show you.”

Doing as commanded, you follow him around the corner to a familiar area; one which you had previously spent a good amount of time within as you stood with your arms restrained overhead, the rope tying your wrists connecting to a thick hook in the supporting beam above. However, as you approach, a very clear difference quickly makes itself known.

A thick cuboid of wood hangs from the familiar hook in the ceiling and your eyes follow the small length of rope which attaches to the top to see something resembling a pulley system. However, your gaze is quick to snap back to the wood and, more specifically, the four sets of thick padded cuffs which dangle freely from it, each one connected by a thick length of chain which is embedded solidly in the main frame.

If restrained by it, you would be held off the ground and completely at his mercy as both your wrists and ankles would be supporting the rest of your hanging frame. Leaving you unable to do much more than wriggle your head and claw your digits against the padded cuffs.

Crane turns the handle, newly crafted and embedded on the nearby wall, and the restraints slowly lowered a few inches down towards the floor.

“A piece commissioned by a friend.” Crane explains, his piercing gaze following your features like a hawk. “He constructed the main pulley system and established a solid capability to restrain a subject via their wrists or ankles for however long would prove necessary. I, obviously, added in the more personal touches such as the softer cuffs. I’m not foolish enough to believe that you possess the physicality to endure this type of restraint without some creature comforts.”

“A friend made this? Like, this whole thing?” Impressed and a little amused at the thought of him having to explain such a thing to another living soul, you run your fingers along the cuffs.

“I’m sure he naturally believed that its use was intended for more nefarious purposes. No doubt some cruel experimentation and prolonged torture of those who are unfortunate enough to find themselves trapped down here.”

“Is that not what we’re doing?” You ask, unable to help yourself as the cheeky question rolls from your tongue.

“If you would rather,” Crane offered in a dry tone, “I can have the padded cuffs removed and replaced with the steel handcuffs which were attached originally. Fully restrained, I imagine the bleeding and nerve damages will be very impressive by the time I am finished.”

“The padded cuffs are fine.”

Crane simply huffed his acknowledgement as he comes to move behind you, his presence enveloping you like a shadow as you shudder in place.

“Do you agree to it? You suggested a thorough examination, and this seemed like the perfect solution to allow me to accomplish such a feat.”

The echoes of your previous offer, so easily given as he was making your head spin atop your bed, whispered through your mind.

Maybe such a test should be scheduled for my next visit to the basement? I would hate for my wicked doctor to feel that he was neglecting his patient.

“Yeah.” You say, the words breathy as heat pools in your stomach. “I agree.”

“Excellent.” His hands are delicate as they ghost along the fabric of your shift dress and he takes a step away from your back, one hand spinning you in place to face him fully. “Now, strip.”

Flushing at the command, your hands scrunch up the hem of your dress as you pull it overhead in one swift movement. Already you can feel the growing arousal within your groin, excitement and mild anxiety battling it out to control your racing heartbeat.

A short noise of appreciation from Crane as he observes your underwear set, the black lace panties so thin that they hid nothing while the bra made a fantastic time of pushing your tits together in a very inviting manner.

“I like this.” Crane mutters, his thumb reaching out to brush down the thin strap on your right shoulder. “I thought the red was impressive but this-” He pauses, allowing the comment to fizzle out before running a hand through his russet hair and fixing his glasses.

“Regardless, before our examination begins, I have a simple task for you.”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to take my belt off and hand it to me.” He explains with a hardened expression, the words brokering no argument. “I warned you before that the Scarecrow does not take kindly to being neglected and that I would warm that lovely skin for it. So, before we start you will take my belt and hand it me, knowing what I’ll be using it for.”

Dropping gently to your knees for a little bit of added drama, your mouth is wickedly dry at the surprisingly erotic act. It felt submissive in a different way, making you an active and willing party in your own ruin as your trembling fingers deftly unlatch his belt. You are in the perfect position to see the straining bulge of his groin, his cock already visibly hard and pressing against his dark slacks, as you slip his belt free of the loops.

Standing once again, you hand him the faux-leather belt with a shuddering breath, your face blushing as you take in the deep arousal which reflects in his expression.

“Good girl.” Is all he says and his wire-framed glasses glint as he tilts his head to observe you further. “Now ready yourself to be locked in.”

You shuffle forward to stand beside the hanging restraints, quickly raising your hands up to allow him to slip the thick cuffs around your wrist. They’re tight but comfortable, the thick band wrapping around and swallowing the first few inches of your wrist. Your heart beating harshly, you take a steadying breath as you allow him to grip your left ankle.

“Raise it. High as you can.”

And you do, even as the position leaves you balancing on one unsteady foot.

“I’m going to raise the restraints, be prepared.” He warns and his thin fingers wrap around the short handle on the nearby wall as he cranks it slowly.

It’s an odd sensation as your hands and foot are raised higher and higher until you are no longer able to support your weight. You gasp as you are lifted from the ground, hands and foot held high as your body hangs freely, dangling above the floor as he quickly secures your other foot in its waiting restraint.

Now weightless, the feeling is so strange that an absurd bubble of laughter rises in your chest. You hang in a messy ‘v’ shape with your lower spine and ass being the closest point to the floor; your legs and arms spread as your head hangs freely, gravity forcing it tight against the back of your neck as Crane continues to raise the restraints until your hanging body is roughly on line with his hips.

“Excellent.” Crane begins, his voice deliciously tinted with the arousal that he wasn’t bothering to hide. “It has been too long since you underwent a thorough medical examination, and I will be correcting that oversight today. Every inch of you will be subject to some form of testing as I cannot allow such a wanton little mouse to continue our games without a clean bill of health.”

“I wasn’t aware that you offered gynaecological services, Doctor Crane.” You say, finding the urge to comment difficult to resist.

“Ah, yes. That mouth.” Crane growls, slipping around your body to wrap a thin hand around your jaw. His grip is firm, threatening, and it causes your breath to hitch as he pulls a thin object free from the depths of his lab coat. “Let’s deal with that before we continue.”

Presenting the object before your eyes, you don’t recognise it immediately, but its intent becomes very clear as he swipes his scarred thumb along your lower lip.

“Open.”

You follow his demand, allowing him to slip the metal gag between your lips as it instantly springs open to force your jaw to widen as far as it would reasonably allow without tearing the skin. It’s uncomfortable and cold against the warmth of your mouth and holds a metallic taste which makes your nose scrunch; the edges of it pressing harshly against the corners of your mouth as it exposes your mouth and tongue freely to his heated gaze as he locks the dental gag into place.

“This will prevent you from both biting and also holding back those delightful little noises that I enjoy.” He pauses. “Plus, the added benefits which will become clear when we begin oral testing.”

There it was and a soft little mewl is the first noise to break free of your spread lips as your tongue traces along the edges of the gag, mapping them out in such a way that you can feel his gaze following your exploration with keen interest.

“Your examination begins now.”

His hands move to your own first, clasping over your fingers as he tugs as the restraints which hold you in place to test their strength. Satisfied, he does the same with your ankles and his fingers brushing the soles of your feet spark a panicked giggle which causes him to arch a brow before moving on.

As always, his attentions quickly divert to your chest. Your tits remain hugged within the lace bra which you had so carefully chosen and his hands are like claws as they immediately begin to grope at the material, sending a delightful discomfort rocking through your chest as he does so.

“There are several types of stimuli I considered for these,” Crane mutters, “but I believe that some kind of punishment is due and so-”

His fingers dip within his pockets once more as he pulls free the familiar clover clamps and the thin metal chain which connects them.

A mild dread poisons your thoughts at the appearance of those particular clamps, muscle memory making you wince in anticipation.

His fingers are deft as they pull your tits free of the bra, allowing the material to sit below the breasts as his thumb and forefinger pluck at your right nipple. Once satisfied with the peak of the nub, he snaps the clamp over it in such a way that you cannot hold back a short cry as a bolt of pain radiates from the harsh clamp.

Without giving you a moment to breathe, he repeats the feat with your left nipple and another shrill squeak of discomfort greets the accompanying pain. It’s a familiar ache, the wicked squeeze causing a fresh flood of arousal to brush against the thin lace panties which felt wet against your cunt as you clench around nothing.

His pinkie curls around the short chain which connects the clamps and gives it an experimental tug, forcing the clamps to squeeze even tighter for a moment, and your body curves in place; chest following the chain to alleviate the pain as your wrists pull against the restraints to raise you an inch higher for a moment. After a moment, he takes pity and frees the chain from his finger and your body falls slack to dangle like a piece of meat once more.

The examination continues and a solid flush of colour overtakes your frame as he methodically moves around your prone frame; pinching and stroking whatever bits of skin that took his fancy while his palms ghosted over the ultra-sensitive skin of your inner thighs and neck. He’s cruel with it, deliberately avoiding your soaked cunt and abused nipples as he instead teases the areas which he knows will only serve to stoke the fire within you while providing no relief.

Eventually, he seems content with his examination, and he moves to stand behind you, your head tilting even further back as you stare up at him with glassy eyes.

“I think it’s time I took advantage of that beautiful gag.” He mused, his hands curling around your head to hold you in place as he explains his intent. “Besides, a thorough test of that marvellous throat might remind you of what I expect from my witty girl.”

He releases your head as you shudder, swallowing down the sudden flood of saliva which accumulates in your stretched mouth.

You hear his zip and his hands return to your head, tilting your face roughly to the side as he presents his cock before you. Held in place and mouth unable to do anything but accept him, he pushes his cock within your mouth, holding himself there with great patience as he allows you to make the next move.

Without too much thought, you wrap your tongue around the head of his cock as the familiar taste of him floods your mouth. He’s already leaking pre-cum and you swallow down the salty taste as readily as you do your own saliva. The dental gag prevents you from wrapping your lips around him but you know that’s not what he’s looking for and so you try to regulate your breathing, knowing that he’s soon going to be buried deep within your throat.

As if he could sense your thoughts, his cock slides deeper and he gives a few shallow thrusts to build up pace before he jerks himself forward in a sudden movement, forcing his cock past your fluttering tongue and down the sensitive juncture of your throat.

Panic sets in in an instant as your fingers scramble against the restraints and you struggle to relax your breathing. Through the roar of blood in your ears, you can hear the satisfied grunt which escapes him at how tight and warm your throat must be and a sick sense of pride cuts through the anxiety which makes your eyes water with every passing moment.

His hips jerk in a steady rhythm, every thrust forcing his cock down your unprotected throat before pulling free enough to allow sharp, panicked breaths before delving in once more. It’s uncomfortable and you fight the urge to retch, your throat instead constricting around him in what you can imagine is a lovely tightness.

Before too long, his cock swells within your mouth and his fingers curl painfully against your scalp as he pulls your face flush against his groin, his pubic hair pressed roughly against your nose as he grunts out his pleasure. He comes, his cock twitching and convulsing as he releases deep within your throat while you thrash against your restraints; teeth painfully held in place by the dental gag as he rides out his orgasm before pulling away in one fluid movement.

Coughing and spluttering as a wayward tear breaks free of your left eye and tracks down your reddened cheek, the ache in your chest seems more pronounced due to your squirming and you blink away the remaining tears to fix him with your bleary gaze.

His glasses are slightly crooked and the flush which sits high on his cheeks speaks of the lovely affect your forced oral has had. At his groin, his saliva-slicked cock remains half-hard and he tucks it away with a clinical hand before returning his attention back to your suffering frame.

Dipping his head low, he captures your mouth in his own. It’s not a kiss, your fully restrained mouth making such a thing impossible, but his tongue trails across your gagged lips before delving within your mouth to taste both you and himself as a low hum vibrates past his mouth.

“You suffer so beautifully, witty girl. It makes it hard for me to be reasonable when you hang there with such vulnerability.”

Unable to answer that, a low keen of desire rips free of your mouth as his hand presses roughly against your panties, grinding the lace fabric into your cunt.

“Shall we move on?” He asks, seeking no answer.

Seemingly from nowhere, a small pair of silver scissors appears within his hands as you pull your head up to stare between your spread legs. He is quick and efficient in the way that he cuts your panties free of your ass – the cool metal of the scissors making your shiver as they roll up your outer thigh to snip away at the straps there.

You whimper as the fabric is pulled away, exposing your obvious arousal to his piercing gaze. Your body still on par with his groin, he lowers his hand to stroke one finger experimentally along your aching slit. After such neglect, the feeling is electric, and you clench around nothing as his finger comes away glistening with your juices.

“Even suspended in the air, the safety of solid ground ripped away to leave you victim to the whims of a madman, you are still as wet as a whore. Arousal and fear,” he quotes the familiar words, “you wear them both like old friends, the line between them indistinguishable.”

“Are you frightened of me, witty girl?”

You nod quickly, the truth of the nod fleeting as you would agree to anything just to have him return his finger to your aching sex.

“Liar. You are not nearly as afraid as you should be. I wonder what it would take to have that fear fully enter your eyes again, to flood your features as it does all my other little experiments.”

His toxin never too far from your thoughts, a genuine anxiety settles in your chest as you recall the effects that even the reduced dose wreaked on your body. How awful a full dose would be, particularly if administer while you were hung helplessly like this.

A shudder rolls through your spine as his fingers traces the outline of your ass, teasing the hole there as his other hand maintains a death grip of your thigh.

“Perhaps we will make that the focus of our next meeting. Besides, the Scarecrow has plans to use every inch of you, witty girl. We’ll start training this,” his thumb brushes across your asshole firmly, “soon enough and then we’ll see how anxious you can be with the correct motivations.”

The noise which escapes your throat is somewhere between surprise and agreement, the idea making you feel filthy in the most delicious way. It would be something new and the thought of the many ways he could utilise anal in your games is thrilling. A fantasy rises in your thoughts; your ass filled by him as his wicked fingers curl within your cunt, stroking those areas which drive you wild as he fills you from behind.

Shaking away the thought, you focus on his current ministrations as he prepares something unseen, his back tactfully turned to prevent you from seeing what is held within his hands. Whatever it is disappears into his pocket as he turns to face you once more before dropping to one knee.

A wretched noise screams free of your throat as his tongue stripes a cruel line across your throbbing cunt, flicking across your neglected clit to send a lance of pained arousal across your groin. His enthusiasm is terrible in its immediacy, his lips and tongue flooding you with sensation as he delves into your cunt with even more determination than when he had you splayed out on your apartment couch.

Your orgasm builds quickly, the ache of your abused nipples as they jostled around only adding to the pleasure of your cunt as he rolls his tongue around your clit, providing just enough sensation to have your breath coming in sharp pants as your toes curl against thin air.

However, just as quickly as it started, he finished; pulling away as your body chased him without thought, the restraints only allowing a few inches of movement. His hand falls into his other lab coat pocket to pull free his next toy.

From this position, you can barely make it out, but it almost looks like a thick plastic syringe with the tip neatly removed, leaving only the barrel.

His eyes flash from behind his wire-rimmed glasses as he brings the object closer to the dim light.

“A suction pump. Designed to isolate an area of skin and create a vacuum. Can be used for insect bites to extract toxins, but it has many other uses. Such as-”

Your tongue presses against the roof of your mouth as his fingers return to your cunt. However, their intent is decidedly more clinical as they spread your lips wide to allow him to find the target for his latest toy. A sharp gasp forces your chest to inhale deeply as you feel the smooth edges of the tube coat themselves in your arousal before trailing up to lock around the circumference of your clit.

An explosion of sensation rockets through your straining frame as he pulls the syringe tight, capturing your clit and pumping it roughly within the barrel. The intensity of the sudden pull, every nerve in your clit straining against the forced inflation, catches your breath in your throat and you splutter and whine through the feeling – pleasure and discomfort rolled into one as you jerk your hips against nothing.

The pain in your nipples forgotten, every slight movement within your body causes fresh waves of pained ecstasy to shudder through you. Your mouth fights against the dental gag as you gasp and whimper, unsure if you want him to remove the pump or pull it even tighter.

“You took that very well.” Crane praises, ignoring the obvious distress as his thumb casually wipes away a fat tear that you were unaware was rolling past your cheek. “I will let you decide if you consider it a punishment or a reward. Regardless, there is still another punishment to attend to.”

He disappears from sight, moving quickly past your head as he dips to the floor to retrieve something before standing upright once more.

Within his hands, lies the belt. The one you had so willingly handed him earlier as your game began.

“Seven days.” He muses, wrapping the buckle of the belt within his fist to prevent the metal from damaging your skin. “Your neglect of the Scarecrow lasted a whole seven days, little mouse.” Tutting with mock disapproval, he circles you like a hawk, clearly enjoying the fresh anxiety which has entered your features. “I think that warrants seven stripes of that beautiful skin. Do you agree?”

“Yes.” You try to answer, the word coming out slurred and messy due to the gag.

“Excellent. As always, you are responsible for counting along and if you lose count then we return to zero.”

A wash of euphoria skates across your skin, anticipating the pain of the belt even as your tits ache and your clit throbs in its isolation, and you loosen your frame as you await the first blow.

CRACK.

A howl snaps free of your throat as the belt wraps around your exposed ass, catching both cheeks as heat blossoms from the spot in an instant. The pain is sharp, different to the rest of the torments that afflict your body and your spine curves in place to avoid the next hit.

“One.” You cry out.

CRACK.

“Two!” It’s a pathetic yowl as his second hit connects across the exact same skin as the first- causing the heated skin there to explode into an inferno of discomfort while fresh tears spring into your eyes.

CRACK.

“Three.”

Pulling your head up for a moment, you catch his eye and the sadistic delight which reflects in his expression frightens you as much as it makes your cunt clench and drip with undeniable arousal.

CRACK. CRACK.

Blows four and five come in quick session across your spread inner thighs and you squeal out their numbers as these new areas burst to pained life. The skin there had remained mostly untouched until now and the sudden assault catches you off-guard while your ankles pull hard against their tight restraints.

CRACK.

An open scream followed by a sob drags free of your stretched lips as his fifth belt catches you across the tits, sparking white-hot pinpoints of pain where the leather catches your clamped nipples.

“Six.” You continued to sob, the pain slowly overtaking the rolling pleasures which had been making it bearable. “T-that’s six.”

“Well done. Despite your fear of the belt you’ve managed to keep up.” Crane growls. “And for our final strike.”

His fingers trailing down your slit for a moment before ripping the pump free of your clit in one rough movement. In an instant, your breath is stolen from you as the pain of your sensitive clit is immediately overshadowed by his final swing, which stripes along your cunt. Stars explode behind your clenched eyes as the pain flashes so intensely that you choke, the scream caught within your chest making you dry-heave instead as his hand ghosts along your wet cunt.

“Seven.” The number comes out with a pathetic squeak as you hear his belt fall to the floor once more.

His palm is cool against your heated flesh, but you sob in place as the calloused skin grazes your plump clit, sending an unbearable flash of sensation across your groin.

Lightheaded as your head hangs limply, the tightness of your bruised throat mixed with the gag makes breathing feel tricky and your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to gain some composure. Pain, tinged with that same euphoria from earlier, dances along your skin to alleviate the worst of your aches as you hang there. You briefly consider telling him to stop, of using that one guarantee that he promised, but something holds you back.

You flinch in place as his hands come to rest on your scalp, the surprise of his touch pulling you from your thoughts and a mild relief sweeps through your chest as you realise that he is removing the dental gag. As the metal pulls free of your mouth, you test your aching jaw, the muscles there feeling strained and uncomfortable while you wetten your dry lips with your tongue.

Still hanging loosely, you issue another low scream as he unlatches the clover clamps from your abused nipples and the blood returns to them like a strike of lightning. It’s a horrible pain, enough to overshadow the other aches for a moment, as Crane sadistically assists the process by rolling the nubs between his fingers and thumbs.

“Our examination is almost complete, little mouse.” Crane announces, his tone oddly breathless as he slips to stand between your hanging legs and his fingers fiddle with his zip once more. “Just one final test and then we’ll see if you have earned a reprieve.”

His hands comes to wrap around your hips, the thin digits digging into the skin there roughly. You offer a broken moan as you feel the head of his cock bump messily against your slickened hole and you spread your knees as wide as possible to invite him in further. He pushes in harshly, not allowing a single moment of respite as his left hand leaves your hips and instead moves to brush against your clit as he sinks himself fully, claiming his long-awaited prize.

So over-stimulated and close to your limits, his cock burying itself deep within you, hard enough to brush uncomfortably off your cervix, is enough to push you over the edge and you come almost instantly.

His thumb pressing against your pumped clit adds an unbearable pleasure to your release as you squeeze around him so tightly that you hear him grunt with the pressure.

Your entire body tenses as the waves of pleasure crash through you, bolstered by the pains across your abused flesh, and your moans are pathetic in their earnestness as ecstasy drives you to utter madness.

It’s overwhelming in its intensity, your mind immediately floating off into pure sensation as your lips move of their own accord to garble out a mixture of pleas and groans.

Crane, uncaring of your torments, does not let up on his brutal assault on your over-stimulated cunt and his utter disregard only causes your orgasm to prolong itself- every fresh thrust and rough rub of your inflamed skin making you mewl and pull him deeper as you clench around him desperately.

Lost in the sensations, you barely feel it when he comes; his release shockingly warm as it coats your walls, dripping free as he rides his orgasm out before pulling away. Through watery eyes, you watch him as he casually wipes off his cock with a handkerchief before tucking himself away once more. A few strands of his russet hair have fallen across his forehead, plastered to the skin by sweat, as a satisfied slackness courts his features.

You jolt in place as that same handkerchief wipes along your electrified cunt, cleaning up the mess from your combined release as you whimper and attempt to pull away from the fabric; the cotton feeling as terrible as sandpaper against your sensitive skin.

“Well done, witty girl.” Crane praises once more, his words as clinical as ever yet slightly slurred by his sated arousal. “You performed admirably, and I don’t think any of the recent trouble has impacted your ability to impress.”

His hand wraps around your feet, fingers making short work of the restraints there as he pins your right foot beneath his underarm until he has securely released the other. Both feet now freed, he lowers them slowly to the ground to allow you to gain a solid footing.

Standing on very shaky legs, you allow him to repeat the feet with your wrists – releasing them from the thick cuffs as his thumbs rub almost absent-mindedly at the reddened skin there.

Now fully righted, a wicked wave of nausea sweeps across your frame, and you slowly drop yourself to the floor, laying on your back to allow the linoleum to cool your skin and give you something to focus on as you fight the urge to vomit. Your chest throbs and your cunt aches with every slight jostle, the flooring providing a wonderful coolness against the heat of your belted skin.

Vision swimming, a dark shape above you alerts you to Crane’s position as he stands over you. Something like a sigh escapes his shape and you flinch as thin hands dip to wrap around your shoulders and the backs of your knees. With a solid grunt, he picks you up from the floor and you are immediately reminded that he is much stronger that his wiry frame would suggest as he pulls you flush to his chest as he carries you back to the main area of the basement and towards the familiar couch which typically housed your frame.

Wracked by a full-bodied shiver as you relax into the couch, your trembling fingers pull the thin fabric of your bra up once again, wincing as the lace traces over your reddened nipples. The worst of the nausea seems to have passed but previous experiences tells you that you’re still not in any fit state to be walking around and so you pull your legs onto the couch and lean heavily on the arm.

Having lost track of him after he deposited you, the reappearance of Crane as he thrusts a chilled bottle of water under your chin startles you for a moment but you take the water gratefully. Your fingers struggle with the cap for a few seconds before his thin digits take control, opening the bottle and pressing it towards your mouth to allow you a few deep sips.

Satisfied with your intake, he drops to the couch by your side and his hands pick up your feet enough to allow him to adjust them over his lap due to the lack of available space.

“Did you find your examination thorough enough?” Crane asks, his voice suspiciously disinterested as his gaze trails across your striped thighs.

“It was a lot.” You sigh. “My body is aching enough now that I know I’ll be in some state tomorrow. I liked the new restraints though; they make it easy to agree to whatever you want since I’m trapped mid-air.” A slight hint of teasing peeks through the tiredness in your tone and you can feel the amusement roll off him despite his expression remaining stoic.

“You are as responsive as ever. The fear of being fully restrained and vulnerable appears to heighten your sensations in a way that the gurney does not.” His fingers trail along your leg, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. “I am pleased that you offered to return here, with me. I doubt I would have been so kind if the tables were turned.”

“You don’t strike me as the vengeful type, Doctor Crane.”

That gets a genuine laugh from him, the sound little more than a low rumble from his lips but its honest and it alights a satisfaction within you that you were able to get that from him.”

“You could afford to be more vengeful, witty girl. I suspect one day you will come to some brilliant moment of clarity and attempt to cave my skull in for my various crimes against your lovely skin. I also have no doubts that you could murder Roman Sionis in his sleep if you were provided the appropriate means.”

You wince at the mention of that bastard and the flinch does not go unnoticed as a slight furrow appears in Crane’s brow.

“I enjoyed your apartment.” He diverts the conversation smoothly, his hands pulling at your shoulders to guide you into adjusting your body the opposite way. A task which you follow, true surprise clutching at your thoughts as he encourages you to lay your head down on his lap. “If my offer of dinner were still to be taken up, then I don’t see why it wouldn’t suffice for a more relaxed atmosphere.”

You find yourself willing to ignore the fact that his offer of dinner had somehow bastardised itself into a self-invite for you to prepare something for him as his knees adjust to make a more comfortable pillow for your head as you gaze up at his still frame.

His expression refuses to change, stoic features only slightly softened by his obvious fatigue after your little session, and his gaze is as piercing as ever as it flits across your features, taking in your own exhausted state.

“Sleep, dear one.” Crane encourages, tilting your head away from his to face the expanse of the basement. “You’re clearly exhausted and will be unable to function without some rest.”

Unable to refute the fact, your eyes drift shut as something delightfully warm touches at your senses and it’s not until sleep quickly comes to claim you that you realise what it is.

Dear one.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Her breathing steady as he watches the rise and fall of her abused chest, Crane knew that his witty girl was asleep. She looked peaceful like this, a fact which inspired as much disappointment as it did amusement. Her features were so expressive, wearing arousal, fear, rage, and delight with such ease that he needed no prowess to detect her true feelings and it amused him no end.

He had called her ‘dear one’ and its use was not accidental. She had demonstrated a bravery, arguably a foolishness, by agreeing to continue their little arrangement and he felt that bravery deserved a reward. A recognition of something that perhaps he himself was not willing to face.

Brushing the hair which had fallen across her forehead away, he tucked it behind her ear in a surprisingly tender move. Something about her, the way she lay nakedly splayed across his lap, fully asleep and vulnerable to his presence sparked a terrible sensation in his chest; something that lived in the delicate space between protection and cruelty.

She trusted him, regardless of everything, and he could use that trust to do what he wished. To lull her into a false security which would be stripped away in an instant as those lovely features twisted in true rage before dissolving into fear as she realised the true monster which lurked within.

And yet, his hand stayed.

The appeal of such a betrayal was fleeting in its temptations as it would only provide one session of delights and he doubted that the discomfort which plagued him over his previous perceived betrayal would forgive him so easily.

Yes.

His little mouse inspired a terrible thing within him.

She regularly courted the temptation of a monster, one more than ready to tear apart the delicate prey between its teeth. However, her fire saved her. That fire which amused him so much and singed away those darker temptations as they would require him to snuff it out completely, something which he found himself loathe to do.

Dropping his hand gently to her chest, he spread his palm over the area which covered her heart and waited for the steady rhythm to thump its beat against his skin. He would not sleep, not like this, but he allowed the soft thrum of her heartbeat to lull him into something approaching peace, if only for the moment.

#jonathan crane #scarecrow #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x you #scarecrow x you #scarecrow smut #Jonathan crane smut #gotham rogues #whole day off #cillian murphy

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bag-chips · 7 months

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The FNAF 2 girlies are here! :) Headcanon stuff under Keep Reading!

- The FNAF2 animatronics are the smallest and lightest of all the generations. Due to their secondary purpose of security, plastic was used for the moulds and their endoskeletons were made to be much lighter. Thus, they are extremely agile.

- In the company’s attempts to rebrand, the Toys were designed to be brightly coloured and much more contemporary, with their outfits based on the trends of the time.

- This is most apparent with Chica. The teddy bear theme was carried from the 1st Generation.

- Originally, Toy Bonnie was designed to be a magician, but this was ultimately scrapped when they couldn’t figure out a way to get the mechanism controlling the hat in sync with the mechanical doves flying out from behind the stage. Needless to say, the first few tests failed spectacularly and led to significant property damage. Instead, they reused Bonnie’s guitar programming to make Toy Bonnie a rockstar.

- Toy Chica was universally loved by the public… almost too much. She was loved by kids for her friendly yet sassy demeanour, but there were also many instances of adult customers being inappropriate with the animatronic. Originally implemented as a harmless prank by Henry, he made the beak removable so that Toy Chica could scare off her admirers. However, as a downside this did make the beak prone to falling off in the middle of performances.

- The public had a love hate relationship with Toy Freddy. Some loved him whilst others hated the new design. He has limited jaw movement to avoid any more biting incidents. However, as the heaviest of the Toys, he is able to ram into and crush intruders with ease.

- Toy Foxy was specifically designed to fill the role that Foxy had ended up doing for years. They would perform on stage with their parrot puppet, doing interactive shows with the kids and comedy shows for an older audience. They would also leave the stage to play with kids. However, due to rushed production and technical oversight, Toy Foxy was prone to damages. After an instance in which they fell off the stage and suffered significant mechanical and cosmetic damage, their role changed. Instead, children could take them apart and put them back together, and were free to let their creative spirits run wild, covering the animatronic in scribbles and stickers. The Mangle does not receive maintenance. Its jaw is the only section that has not received significant damage.

- The Marionette is one of the oldest animatronics, designed around the same time as the FNAF1 animatronics. It was designed by Henry as a gift to his daughter, who had a love of clowns and puppets. Its primary purpose was to hand out gifts to children at the Prize Counter. Its secondary purpose was to keep an eye on the children. Originally, a mix of internal mechanisms and a string pulley system would give the illusion of the Puppet floating around the restaurant. However, following the death of Henry’s daughter, strangely the Marionette was able to move on its own. Workers presumed there had been updates to its programming and moved on.

#my art #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf 2 #fnaf2 #toy animatronics #toy bonnie #toy chica #toy freddy #toy foxy #mangle #the mangle #the puppet #the marionette #fnaf movie

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betterbooktitles · 7 days

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My great grandfather “Bud” Wilbur gave his son Jack an Erector Set one Christmas then took it back the same day. The Erector Set was a children’s toy made of metal pieces that allowed kids to build various model structures like bridges and poorly made bridges. Before video games, children had very few choices for entertainment: marbles, Erector Sets, or becoming a Peeping Tom. Those were the choices. My grandpa Jack was going to be an engineer like his father, and to seal his fate, great grandpa Bud bought him the tools to try his hand at building. Bud, seeing the pieces scattered on the floor must have thought “pearls before swine” while having his eureka moment. Using the toy he had bought his son, he built a model of what he called The Simultaneous Calculator, what the American papers in 1937 called “Robot-Einstein,” and what the Japanese dubbed “The Wilbur Machine.”

He didn’t build the first calculator. I believe that honor technically belongs to the Mesopotamians who made the first abacus. Nor did the calculator conceptually resemble the digital computing systems we have now that employ ones and zeros and a lot of electricity. The Wilbur Machine was an analog computing system with pulleys and brass bars that solved 9 equations simultaneously (or 9x9 systems according to an MIT grad’s thesis that I can only comprehend up to page 4). Math equations that once took a full day to solve now took roughly 1-3 hours. It sped up the production of large structures, power grids, and for one country it seems, planes. It was a big advancement in 1936-37, an advancement that was eclipsed by better smaller machines soon after. In the United States, that is. In Japan, a 3x3 system Wilbur Machine was replicated in the late 30s and a fully functioning 9x9 calculator was completed in 1944 at the Tokyo Imperial University’s Aviation Laboratory.

You read that correctly. My great-grandfather Bud Wilbur built a machine that was stolen by an Axis power right before World War II. Japan continued to use the machine until the war’s end. So, uh…sorry about that? It wasn’t Bud’s intention.

Read the rest of the essay here.

#essays #essay #writing #reading #personal essay #Japan #interesting #travel #science #math #MIT #Wilbur machine #dan wilbur #long reads #movies #family

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cambriancutie · 1 month

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humphrey would create a sex toy out of various sets of pulley systems and a ceiling fan and itd end up almost ripping their dick off so guava has to take them to the ER

#oc #treat for you all this early morning

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greenbergwrites · 11 months

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When Bucky first meets them ettiene is 100% hissing, biting, ready to throw hands at anyone who tries to get too close to Steve. Whatever situation they were previously in has made him very protective, and if Bucky wants to even look at Steve he has to go through ettiene. Luckily for him, Ettiene’s protective ways are NO match for the massive crush that Steve has developed on Bucky. Steve and Ettiene definetly fall asleep piled around and ontop of each other for comfort, but in the middle of the night Steve always sneaks off to Alpha Buckys office, peeping through the cracked open door, admiring Bucky as he does his work and takes calls, scurrying off if he hears someone approaching.

The thing is Bucky KNOWS that Steve is there, he’s scented him since before he even entered the hallway, but since steve is so shy and small he says nothing to avoid scaring him off, instead just enjoying the company of the pup.

I imagine this goes on for a while, there may even be times where Steve falls asleep with his head against the door, only to wake up tucked in right next to Etienne in their pup pile, faint memories of strong warm hands carrying him.

So, I've had this idea floating around in my head for a while, not fleshed out enough to be an actual plot but kind of like the Nameless Alpha & Omega story where I just had ideas

I was going to try to actually scrape it together and write it as an original story, but what you said lines up enough with it that I might as well throw it in the ring as another 'verse

The basic idea is this:

A world where humans know about the supernatural, but it's still a fresh discovery. Decades old, maybe. Everyone is still trying to figure out how the worlds fit together, and there's a lot of fear on both sides, but it's mostly working out.

Enforcers used to be the protectors of the pack, but now they're protectors of the supernatural community in general.

I toyed with the idea of the Enforcers being an official branch of law enforcement, but if we're leaning towards criminal!Bucky, then it would definitely have to be unofficial.

Or maybe the Enforcers are official and Bucky is the guy they call when their hands are tied.

Either way, when something goes down and a parahuman is involved, the Enforcers get called in.

It's one such call that changes everything.

Bucky arrives at a desolate, abandoned warehouse. Bright lights from the ambulances, cop cars, firetrucks--they flash in the rain, a beacon of trouble for some, a port in the storm for others.

A steady line of hunched figures climb into the waiting ambulances. All of them are human, though, and so not his problem.

An Enforcer approaches the caution tape where Bucky stands waiting. He lifts it, stepping aside for Bucky to duck under.

"This way," he says softly.

For humans, the words would've been lost in the rain. Not for them.

Bucky follows him into the warehouse. He abandons his umbrella by the door and keeps walking.

The inside of the warehouse is exactly as he would expect. Dust and debris everywhere, cobwebs and shadows that might move if you looked too long. It's not the look of the place that gives Bucky pause, though; it's the feel.

He's been in many abandoned places, many warehouses. None felt like this. There's a weight to the air, a stillness that threatens to suffocate anyone stupid enough to linger. There are ghosts here, and not necessarily of the supernatural kind.

A gigantic hole takes up most of the center of the warehouse. There's a few ladders scattering its edges and some sort of pulley system, as if the idea is to get as many people out at once time as possible.

There are less humans inside the warehouse, but still enough. They glance sideways at the Enforcer, and then at Bucky, and if the rain outside didn't hide the Enforcer's words, it's muffled pattern on the roof definitely doesn't hide the trip and gallop of their heartbeats.

The Enforcer doesn't lead him to the hole or to any of the ladders. Instead they take the stairs. They're at the back of the building, and as soon as Bucky steps onto them, he understands why that isn't the evacuation point. These stairs wouldn't be able to handle that much weight at one time.

They're old, rusted and just as dusty as everything else, sand falling to the floor below with every shaky step they take.

When Bucky reaches the bottom, he has to stop and steady himself. The atmosphere down here is somehow worse. The scent is acrid, cloying.

It stinks of waste, but the other scents are worse. The salt of tears, the taste of desperation. Pain. Anger. Fear.

Isolation, hunger, loneliness--those things don't have a proper scent. Scenting them out takes context clues, pairing the general scent of someone's unhappiness with body language, behavior.

Bucky knows he can't scent them, but somehow, somehow, he's sure that he does, anyways.

"I know," the Enforce intones grimly, and nods his head towards a hallway on Bucky's left.

There are cages.

They might have been rooms, once. Offices, laboratories, who knows. But someone's taken the doors off the frames and replaced them with bars.

No one is in them, anymore. They've all been unlocked, opened, the prisoners set free. At the end of the hall, there's a crowd of humans. They're just standing there, motionless. Onlookers to something, something that has them smelling fearful and heartbroken at the same time.

Bucky hears the hissing before he sees what the spectacle is.

The crowd of humans part, making way for them. Hugging the wall so there's no chance of accidental brushes. Humans are a superstitious lot, and somewhere in the past years, they've gotten in their heads that a wolf can't take your scent--can't track you--as long as you don't get close enough.

It's bullshit, but Bucky's not in the business of educating humans. And especially not here, not now.

Not when he moves past them and the spectacle that held them captive now takes hold of him.

Omegas. Two of them. Pale and rangy, covered in dirt and grime, torn clothes and fearful scents, but very clearly Omegas.

One of them sits with his back against the wall of their cage, his knees pulled to his chest, bright blue eyes peeking over their horizon. He's so still, so quiet, even his heartbeat seems quiet. It's as if all he wants is to melt into the wall and disappear. Be invisible.

The other is the opposite. He stands between of his companion and the gathered crowd, teeth bared and eyes blowing amber. He prowls the length of the cage in a way that's more animal than human, and it's clear with every movement that he makes that he's ready for a fight. Not just ready--he wants it.

He's the source of the hissing. It's wrong, on a fundamental level. Wolves don't hiss. It's as if his vocal cords are half-shifted themselves, unsure of where to go, and this is the result.

Bucky can hear the little grumble of a growl every once in a while, but it retreats quickly.

There's no humanity in his eyes. Only the fear and rage of a caged, abused animal.

He's feral, or close to it, and that thought has acid rising in Bucky's throat. A Omega in a place like this is the worst kind of transgression, but one that's turned feral because of it is a shame the world might never recover from.

There's blood is in the air. Fresh blood.

When the prowler turns to continue his march back across the room, Bucky spies the source. A wound on his leg, trickling down his calf. It isn't the only source, though.

Scenting the differences in blood in a confined space like this takes practice, but it's possible. If he concentrates, Bucky can detect two separate blood scents. Both of the Omegas are bleeding, but Bucky can't see the source on the Omega on the floor.

"They're injured," the Enforcer murmurs at this side, unnecessarily. "But we can't get in. When we try, that one raises hell."

The prowler, obviously.

"I thought I was making headway," he continues. "I thought he was gonna let me close, but then he saw..."

The Enforcer grimaces, holding up his bared forearm. He's a bitten wolf, turned months before. The scars from his attack are more faded than they would be on a human, but they stand out in stark contrast against his tanned skin. Jagged, silvery lines from a clawing, and the half moon imprint of a bite.

"He went ballistic when he saw it."

Bucky tilts his head, flicking his gaze between the scars to the prowling Omega. The Omega hisses again, spitting on the floor, his derision palpable.

He isn't certain, but Bucky thinks he understands.

"They don't trust humans," he murmurs. And then, as an afterthought, he added, "Clear the room."

It's more of a hallway than a room, but they get the idea. The humans grumble at being kicked off even a portion of their own crime scene, but they oblige. The Enforcer goes with them, because while not actually human, the bite damns him as being born one. It shouldn't matter, and usually, it doesn't. But it matters here, now, to these Omegas, and their opinion is more important than his own.

When it's just the three of them--Bucky and the two Omegas, separated only by iron bars--he takes off his jacket and folds it over his arm and then, to the bewilderment to both Omegas, he sits on the dusty floor.

He leans back against the wall opposite of the bars, as far away as he can get. It's not far, of course. When he stretches out his legs, he's only a foot away from touching metal with his shoes.

The prowling Omega pauses, his hissing dying out. He wavers, disoriented and confused.

"You're both injured," Bucky says calmly. "I'd like to see to that, but not until you're ready."

The blood scent isn't overpowering; neither of them are in danger of bleeding out. It's more important to earn their trust right now.

The prowler, unsure of what to do, lurches back into his pacing. He isn't vocally warning Bucky away anymore, but his body language still does.

Bucky focuses on the silent Omega. He tilts his head, meeting his bright eyes--the only part of his face that can currently be seen.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he promises. "You don't know me, but I'm an Alpha. I won't let anyone else hurt you. Not while I'm here."

The prowler stops again. It was that word--Alpha. They both know what it means.

There's nothing more sacred to an Alpha than an Omega. Wolves as a whole covet them, cherish them. But to Alphas, they are holy.

Bucky had hoped it would mean something to these two Omegas, that it might mean safety, and he's gratified that he isn't completely wrong. Slowly, so as not to startle either of them, he tosses his jacket in front of the bars.

"Go on," he says. "Take my scent."

The prowler snatches it through the bars, darting forward and away almost too quickly to follow. The fabric rips, caught on a nail, but Bucky isn't bothered. He'd rip a thousand jackets for an Omega's safety.

The prowler takes it to his companion, kneeling down beside him. The silent Omega takes a sleeve between slender fingers and buries his nose in it, breathing deeply enough that Bucky can hear it. After several long seconds, he offers it up to his companion, encouraging him to take the scent, too.

The prowler does, but it's clear he's reluctant. After scenting the jacket, the protector grumbles wordlessly, knocking his forehead into the blue-eyed Omega's. A tiny little smile answers the gesture.

It's only a few seconds of interaction, but enough to show the dynamic between them. The prowler is the protector, of course. Fierce and vigilant, a sentinel in the night. He defers to the blue-eyed Omega, though. It's obvious in the slump of his shoulder, the way he plops down on his ass with a huff.

They both look toward Bucky at the same time, and a thousand things are said in the silence between them.

Please don't hurt us, the blue-eyed Omega seems to say.

His companion's glare is more direct: Try to hurt him and I'll claw your eyes out.

After a moment, the prowler dips his chin once. It's barely perceptible, and hardly a nod at all, but Bucky was looking for it and he understands it for what it is.

Carefully, he stands and dusts off his slacks.

"Let's get you two out of there, hm?"

#nani asks #greenberg replies #a/b/o dynamics #feral omega #etienne and steve #i think about feral omega plots a lot #why? i have no idea #but it's fun

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crybabytoy59 · 1 month

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Misbehaving?

Now Crybaby stand up straight I know the gag hurts but mommy warned you about misbehaving didn’t she ? Yes she did so now baby cakes your Going to learn mommy has limits…. So if mommy has limits it’s only fair baby has them taken away with her safeword.. No don’t start crying yet mommy is not going easy on you today with silly crocodile tears ! She is going to take her time with this punishment and won’t be rushed ..

As crybaby You are going to break down properly for mommy !

Now let’s get on ! Handies up on the pulley bar ! Eh now pain Toy !….

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domozchang · 5 months

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senses || oz/austin, 11.25

If Oz was being honest, he'd been intrigued by Austin for a while. It was just hard to get a read on the sub. But it seemed that the time in the auction house had brought some sort of understanding between the two of them, and Oz was looking forward to trying to instill some more positive submission experiences with the handsome sub.

His bondage table was set up in the middle of his playroom, silky black ropes hanging from the suspension pulley he had set up once his claim when Michael was made official. Several candles were lit already, with sensory toys laid out on a nearby table. He had greeted Austin at the door in nothing but low slung jeans, leading him to the playroom and closing the door before instructing Austin to kneel. "Remind me of your limits and safeword, handsome. Then I want you to get up, undress and lay on your back on the table for me," he ordered, running a hand over Austin's hair lightly.

@fabray-austinsub

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worldsover · 2 years

Text

Ropes as Art ft. Chaeyoung

length ✦ 3629

genres ✧ Shibari, i.e., rope bondage; suspended sex; upside-down facefucking; rope bunny!Chaeyoung

Written with @jettsdraft. Happy birthday to Lee Chaeyoung!

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Stop toying with that red rope, making labyrinthine knots in your boredom, and look up from your reception desk. Since you don’t bother the other employees of your fitness studio on dormant days like these, you have to tend to this one customer yourself. “Ahh, Miss Lee.”

“Call me Chaeyoung, please. We’ve been over this.”

“Of course. My apologies Miss—“ The woman frowns. “Chaeyoung.”

She perks up. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice!”

“That’s alright. You sounded tense on the call. Idol life taking its toll?”

Chaeyoung huffs. “When has it not?”

“I can’t say I know the feeling. However, we are here for your stress relief. Please.” You move to the side and gesture forward. “Right this way.”

“Thank you,” Chaeyoung says as she walks by. You get up from your desk, grab the rope and untie it carefully—you’ll use it soon. Watch her long legs take measured strides down the bamboo wood walkway of your studio and listen to her heels make satisfying clicks that echo through the hallway. Your eyes follow from her lithe calves up to her ass which sways from left to right in her gray leggings. Though she enjoys the total embrace of rope whether it’s over thin fabric or on bare skin, she’s definitely here for more exclusive treatment.

She doesn’t look back at you like that otherwise.

You’re getting extra exercise today too.

Shaking those thoughts out of your head, you trail close behind, ready to help the woman in any way you can. The two of you forge ahead to the main workout room.

An orange hue steeps the room. Most fitness places you know don’t have the 56th floor of a skyscraper all to themselves. They don’t have tall windows on adjacent walls that look out of the corner toward the skyline, mirrors on the other two walls, hooks and anchors on the ceiling and floor. But most notably, they don’t have a bed in the middle of the room. You don’t call it a bed—it’s the safety cushion—but it’s essentially a bed. Posts with more anchors surround the soft cushion. You hang your red rope at one of these corners.

Chaeyoung drops supine onto the mattress, extending limbs with a satisfied groan.

“I don’t remember telling you about those stretches.”

She giggles at first, but then redness spreads on her cheeks. “M-my clothes can go on that table over there, right?”

“You don’t have to strip today if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.”

Truthfully, your erection already awakens in your joggers. “Alright. You can just hand them to me and I’ll place them over.”

“Oh-okay.” Chaeyoung rounds her lips into a tight aperture to push a slow stream of air. She stands up and undos her zip-up hoodie to reveal a sports bra underneath. As a result of the great training work you’ve done with her, you could eat your last meal off of her midriff. Take the hoodie and turn around—she grabs your shoulder and pulls you right back to look at her. Even if you’ve seen it before, your eyelids split open in shock while hers shake: her bare chest.

You know the right thing to say—you didn’t have to do that—but when Chaeyoung grabs the waistband of her leggings and tugs it down, shimmying like a camgirl striptease, there’s no right thing to say. Especially when she stares at you the whole way down. She repeats the process with her panties but this time, she’s the one who turns around to show off her pretty butt.

That confirms it.

Dick appointment.

Grab the clothes from the bed, fold them, and place them onto a table at the side of the room. When you return, you notice Chaeyoung still has jitters. “I’ll be very gentle to start with,” you say.

“But not to end with, right?”

“It’s up to you.”

Chaeyoung whines softly, but despite the whining, stands at a pole at the corner of the bed, stretching her hands as high as they can go above her head and crossing her wrists.

You create a pulley system using that pole and another one across for better control. The end of the cable contraption is Chaeyoung’s svelte arms. Tie the wrists together and then, on each upper limb, diamonds cross back and forth until the two lengths meet at her chest. Wrap rope around her torso above her tits, then over her shoulders, between her cleavage. As you continue to create inventive patterns around her breast while ensuring the weight is distributed evenly, you examine the toned muscles on her body. Examining too closely, you breathe on her nipples which stiffen in response. It isn’t always inherently sexual.

A tiny flutter in her breath, a tinier whimper. Chaeyoung makes it so.

Your work nears completion when you tighten the last bit of rope around her ass and thighs. Diagonals which intersect and dig into the flesh so elegantly, so smoothly.

But you haven’t even lifted her yet. With a careful heave at the other end of the pulley, Chaeyoung tiptoes, then her toes stop touching the floor. From the simple action of simple machines, inappropriate, unprofessional fluids start to leak between her thighs, slowly seeping into your rope.

The bright red rope is just for Chaeyoung for a reason. She only hangs a couple inches off the ground, but it defies gravity nonetheless, forcing her to feel the tension and the roughness of the braided cord against her skin. Her back against the pole.

In the light of the sun, the shape of her body reveals itself, and so perfection is made tangible in a few lines, some simple curves.

Your hands work diligently, starting the forceful kneading at her pretty feet. You give it the attention it deserves—truthfully, closer to worship; she can probably feel your breath with how close your face is. After enough massaging her soles, her toes, her heel, you move onto her legs. There’s a lot of flesh to work with. All the length. You have to keep the drool in your mouth while your fingers are pressing into the toned muscles of her calves.

“There’s this knot in me that I can reach,” Chaeyoung says looking up to you. “You know, since my hands are tied. Can you help?”

You nod and move up to her thighs. Now this, you can’t ignore. Her labia, right there. A moment away from your face. From your hands. The warmth in the room, from her pussy, is palpable. Keep a professional touch as best you can.

Chaeyoung notices this and wiggles her hips. She mouths “higher” and you do just that. The same layer of sweat on her flat tummy makes her thighs shine. You can’t help but dig in. Fingers push like rope; she used to be more ticklish about that, but the sensations of the rope helps plenty. Again, the sounds out of her mouth are too sensual for you to stay sane.

“You’re close,” she says with a groan. You stop for a moment. “I think you’ll need something else to hit this spot.”

“So, it’s like this today, huh?” You don’t need to speak in hushed tones, yet it’s natural in the presence of such a beautiful body. “We’ve never done this in the studio, you know?”

“I liked your bedroom, but this really puts me in the zone.”

You nod. “I understand. You’re looking for a more… internal massage.”

Her breath is heavy, staggered. Her heart pounds audibly.

“It has been a while too. I know you’ve been busy. Let me take care of you.”

“Fuck,” she mutters under her breath. “Please, please do.”

This was always going to happen. Rope therapy is how Chaeyoung keeps her limbs so limber. Getting fucked is just a bonus treat. The binds hold her up as she hangs from the ceiling, swinging back and forth. Her smile never fades; in fact it grows brighter upon seeing you step towards her.

You inspect your work. Any semblance of professionalism is gone. “I’m not going to lie, you look fucking inviting hanging there. Dripping juices. God.”

With how she’s swaying, she looks like the most gorgeous piñata.

Time to break her open with your stick.

You fish your cock out of your pants and slap it against her tummy. She need not say a word, eyes doing all the begging. When you smack against her pussy though, Chaeyoung yelps and wriggles against the rope.

“Put it in, just put it in, please!”

Looking into her eyes, standing in front of her, you align your dick with her entrance and shove yourself all at once. You snap your hips upward, the position awkward, yet you find your rhythm soon enough. With her feet off the ground, Chaeyoung can only bounce so much, using gravity and the sympathetic force of your fucking to weigh back down into your cock. Though the height difference is small, Chaeyoung looks up at you, and there’s a twinkle in her eyes. Your arms wrap around her like a taut rope; her pussy is tighter around your shaft. She’s a different person after you fill her up with your meat, filling her mind with nasty thoughts.

“So good! Y-you should tie me up more, fuck me, use me, ah! Take my little hole, claim it, it’s yours, it’s yours, it’s all—” The spit in her throat comes out as drool. Kiss her, taste her, feel every part of her.

As you thrust in and out, you collect more of her juices around your cock. You can feel how badly Chaeyoung wants to contort her body with all the pleasure. She’s loving the coarse feel of rope on her skin, which you’re feeling too with your closeness. It makes the external knots press into her harder, and by how her face is wracked with pleasure, it’s untangling all her internal knots. That just results in a tighter Chaeyoung for you to pound into.

Usually, when the two of you are fucking, Chaeyoung likes to feel you by hugging you, her legs around your waist, her arms around your neck. Right now, she’s stuck, and you can tell she’s loving it. The cute noises she makes with each pistoning thrust of your shaft, the whites of her eyes, the smell of sex filling your studio—you’re going to need to call a cleaner.

You’re speechless when you feel her tremble. “Chaeng, are you…”

Every time you’ve made Chaeyoung cum prior to now, it was with your tongue, or with your fingers, or with the help of her own stimulation. But helpless to your cock’s assault, she cums hard, thrashing about in her bindings. Her sighing and moaning reaches an apex of loudness like a runaway train, and you have to pull out with her tightness being similarly exceptional. The fluids flow from her crotch, wettening your cock.

You love the way her long legs are shuddering and shaking, the ripple of the milky flesh an addicting sight.

“Fffuck. That was, that was so, so good. Oh god.” Chaeyoung can barely look at you, but when she does, it’s with the smallest droplets of tears in her eyes. She gives a weak grin. “I feel so stretched out. In many ways. Can we do a different position?”

“Oh, of course. You’re the customer.”

She scoffs. “You haven’t made me pay since we started—”

“Ahem, stay still. I don’t wanna hurt you.” Using your pulley contraption, you bring her back to the ground. You’re still many floors above the earth though, sort of like how Chaeyoung still looks lightheaded.

You start untangling the rope from the knot around Chaeyoung’s waist, following the path around her body that you’ve made. Down to her thighs, back up to her ass, then you unfold the diamonds you’ve made on her torso. You can see the marks of rope digging into skin. Your favorite sight. It’s like making art on a person, but it’s temporary and doesn’t pretend to be anything more. The ephemerality of the marking is not what makes your rope bondage art, however; it’s the relief on Chaeyoung when you finally remove her wrists from the restraints, the pure relaxation on her body. You’ve never seen a woman so zen. Her climax certainly contributes to that, but it’s the same thing after every rope session.

“So what did you want to do now?”

“Well, you haven’t cum yet. And while I’m feeling good, my legs are pretty sore from that. So…” Chaeyoung licks her lips, then flops onto the mattress, splaying herself out. Her head is at the edge of the mattress facing you. “I know how else I can make you explode. See, I meant it when I said use me. I think the best way to do that is tie me up here.”

“Ahh.” Your dick twitches at the thought. “We can arrange that too.”

This bondage is much simpler than your first binding by comparison: You tie each of Chaeyoung’s limbs to the corner posts of the bed. Your work is much faster this time as a result. As she tests the limits of your restraint, her back arches. Her tits bounce with just enough size to do so. Most importantly, now her head is hanging upside down off the mattress. When you hit her face with your cock, she can’t do anything but close her eyes and feel the weight of your hardness.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you? You’ve just cum, but I can see you making a wet spot on my studio bed. This would be extra in cleaning fees, you know?” Your hand palms your cock, your tip teasing at her glossy lips. “I guess you can pay by making me cum too.”

Chaeyoung’s eyes follow your cock like she’s a starved pet begging for its treat.

Without much waiting, you push your cock straight into her salivating mouth. “Oh, fuck, yeah!”

The warmth of her hole nearly puts you on your knees. Instead, you gather the rest of your resolve, then gather her face between your hands so you can pump into it properly.

“Mhpmh, oh sh-shit, gmph.” With the choked noises comes thick, choked-out spit. Your cock is reaching deeper and deeper into her throat. The blowjobs she’s given before don’t compare to the depths of her mouth that you’re now feeling clench around your shaft.

“Man… you’re so good at this. So good at throating. I should’ve asked for this before.”

“Ahem, gh. Yeah,” Chaeyoung replies between coughs when your cock leaves the warmth of her mouth. “You should’ve. I would’ve been happy too.”

While your length rests across her upturned face, you ask, “Have you done this before?”

“Deepthroat cock while being tied up?” Chaeyoung kisses your shaft up and down as best as she can, spitting on it a few times. “This would be the first. But deepthroating in general?” She looks cheekily at you. “Well, wouldn’t you like to know.”

The teasing smile is soon wiped away when you yank her hair back and drag her lips around your cock again.

“God, you're such a fucking tease.”

Gluck, gluck, gluck—the wet noises from her clamping throat are constant with your every shove. “Mmphm, mmhph, ah, ah, I wove teasing!”

“Oh god, Chaeyoung, holy fuck. Your mouth is fucking… outta this—oh fuck… world, fuck!”

You pull out, staggering back, precum leaking as you feel the vexing pulsations. Though you’re not in her mouth, her tongue does its best to gather every bit of spit and precum it can, while Chaeyoung ensures you can see her perform the lewd act. That tongue feels too good sliding around the edge of your cockhead.

“I’m close, Chaeng.” You hold your dick in place, thinking about your next moves.

“Well, my pussy is still freshly-fucked.”

“Yeah, well… it’s not my fault your pussy gripped my cock like it was leaving home. I wasn’t sure I could pull out until you came like a truck hit you.”

Chaeyoung blushes. “Thank you. Again.” Her face becomes serious again, though it’s difficult to take her fully seriously when it’s covered in spit and stained by makeup and upside-down. “Anyway, make your pick. I’m hungry for more cum.”

“Fuck it. Your pussy feels fucking amazing but this mouth...” You squeeze her cheeks together, making her already thick lips pout more. “This mouth could make men go insane.”

“Mhm. I’ve been told the men I’ve fucked aren’t the same after I suck their cock.”

“I’d have to agree,” you say, grabbing her hair once again as you pull her into your cock. You get to work, hammering your shaft down to her throat, making sure it hits the back each time. Bottoming out with a brutal shove, she writhes on the bed, her limbs trapped. Every part of her body is stuck one way or another, your cock pinning the back of her mouth to the edge of the bed.

“Mhpmh mph, fuuckk, yes, fhcking wove cahwk—” Chaeyoung coughs “—cock on my mouf. Gh, feels so fucking gh, good.”

“Yeah?” You slap her tits with harsh hits, not caring about the marks it’ll leave—what’s a few red handprints compared to an obvious pattern of rope on the rest of her torso. “Fuck, it shows. Goddamn. How did you learn to suck cock like this?”

“Mwph, well, y-you know those rigging rumors?” Chaeyoung laughs the best she can when her throat has a free moment devoid of cock.

“Fucking hell.” You weren’t sure if Chaeyoung was saying this to further stimulate you, and you didn’t care. “I’m going to fucking cum down… I’m going to fucking cum down this fucking whore throat of yours.”

“It’s what it’s made for.” Chaeyoung cockily replies. Even after the dick battering she’s receiving, she’s able to maintain her snarkiness. Maybe her throat was made for cock. “C'mon, give it to me. Don’t leave me hanging like earlier. You know you could’ve creampied me? Filled my pussy up with cum? I couldn’t have stopped you. I was so vulnerable and easy to just—”

Your dick in her throat shuts Chaeyoung up. Grip the back of her head, marveling at her long hair covered in spit and sweat and stickier fluids. Your eyes are taken off that sight when you see how her throat bulges when your cock fills her hole completely. Truly, she’s never looked more in her element than with a shaft fully rammed down her throat. The compromising position makes it so easy for your thrusts to be forceful, uncaring.

When Chaeyoung tries to say something, all it does is send vibrations on your cock and make it jump even more. So instead, she swirls her tongue all over your length, focusing on your underside to push you over the edge. For how incredible her body is, all she needs in this moment is this one hole.

“Here it comes Chae, I can’t hold it anymore, oh god, fuck!” You roar as you cum down her needy throat. Jets of hot, sticky liquid paint ting the back of her mouth, filling her tummy to the brim. You cum so much that you have to slowly pull out so you don’t just get the floor completely covered in a puddle of semen. Despite that, as you throb, your dizziness subsiding, some of your seed spills out of her lips, down her nose, into her eyes.

“Mhm,” Chaeyoung says, shutting her eyelids and just enjoying the feeling, savoring the taste of cum. “So fucking good.”

You wipe your softening, wet cock all over her face, getting some of the mess on her hair. Getting the cum out of her eyes, Chaeyoung is able to open them and make eye contact with you again. And once more, she ensures you’re watching as she performs the lewd act of cleaning her surrounding lips with her tongue. You can see the pride in her expression. She didn’t need her hands, or any other part of her body. Just her holes got you to shoot load after load.

She swallows every bit of your load, and you see the gulp of semen going down her throat. Chaeyoung coughs up a tad, sending cum on your thighs. “Oops.”

You can only shake your head. Chaeyoung is something else.

“Can you give me that?” She nudges her head towards the cum she spat out.

“Seriously?”

Chaeyoung looked dead serious. You clean up the cum she just spat out with your finger and bring it to her lips.

“Mhmm, thank you! Don’t wanna waste any, do I?” Chaeyoung smirks, licking and teasing your cock. “Seriously though, I can’t explain to you how good I feel now. Thank you for helping me work some stress out.”

“No worries, Chaeyoung. Now let’s get you out of that.”

It takes a few minutes to get the binds undone, expertly undoing each one with practiced ease. You hold her in your arms, setting her down on the cum-soaked mattress. Barely having any energy left, you lay down next to her.

“Well, that was fun.”

“Did it help with your stress?”

“Immensely. Let’s just lay here a little while longer.” Chaeyoung lifts one leg and snakes it over your hip, turning her body and trailing kisses down your neck. “Give me a chance to digest this load as well.”

“Hmm. Maybe I can fill your tummy from another hole.”

“Oh god. Maybe you can.” While using a free hand to play with your spent dick, Chaeyoung whispers, “I just don’t know if I can keep my hands off this.”

Soon enough, she’s like a bundle of ropes around you. You’re not sure you can untangle her.

Actually, you’re more sure you don’t want to untangle her.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Fun fact, this was supposed to be the next Kinktober fic I worked on. Then I stopped. This was originally written with the help of @jettsdraft. I had maybe half the draft this whole time, but I wanted to get this out quickly for her birthday. So I just did it.

#kpop smut #fromis smut #reader insert #male insert #title tracks #jettsdraft

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throathole · 7 months

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Fetishes that require people to collect thousands of dollars of specialized gear and leather and toys and EQUIPMENT are so fucking funny to me… Like those guys that build a special room in their house just for all their sex swings and gadgets and pulleys and contraptions. The dedication.

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lilacliquors · 1 year

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day one: walking in a winter wonderland

pairing: homelander x reader

word count: 768

notes: welcome to day one of the 12 days of ficmas! i've been looking so forward to writing these fluff prompts for the holidays, but due to finals, i only had the first two pre-written. so the others will be up, i'll write them in a timely fashion since i'm done with finals. but anyways, i hope you all enjoy, and remember that reblogs, comments, or even an ask are highly recommended, and likes are appreciated <3

despite your heavy jacket, gloves, and the scarf around your neck, the cold still nipped at your skin as the snow drifted down around you. it was only a few days until christmas, and the lights that adorned the city made you smile, it was your favorite time of year, the beauty and the joy unmatched by any other holiday. as you walked along the sidewalk, you felt a sudden breeze beside you, and you flinched slightly, turning your head away from the burst of cold before a chuckle had you looking back up.

“john? oh my god, hey!” you said, unwrapping your arms from your body to hurry over and give him a hug.

“hey, there’s my favorite lady,” he said, wrapping one arm around you to hug you back.

“i was just on my way to see you, small world,” you said with a smile, and he shrugged one shoulder.

“well, i just happened to be in the area, and i figured i’d get you a little something special,” he said, extending his other hand to you. you looked over and smiled; he’d brought a travel carton with two hot drink cups from the local coffee shop. he smiled as you took one of the cups from him and took a small sip, and warmth flooded your body.

“hot chocolate, my favorite,” you said.

“with a hint of mint, just the way you like it,” he said, and you gave him another squeeze.

“thank you, john. you have no idea how much i needed this.”

“i could tell, though. you looked chilled to the bone. which is why i won’t be offering you fly you. you’ll freeze to death,” he said, taking the second drink out of the carton before discarding it. ignoring the stares from onlooking civilians, he set his arm around your shoulders and started down the sidewalk with you. you snuggled into his side as you sipped your hot cocoa, humming to yourself as the sound of holiday music filled the air. starlight’s version of ‘santa baby’ played as you walked by a toy store, and you glanced into the window.

“toys have really come a long way, huh? when i was a kid, a had a wooden pulley porcupine that i just dragged behind me everywhere,” you said, and he laughed.

“really? i don’t think i had that. lot of soldier boy action figures, though. got a new one every year,” he said.

“oh my god, i had a crimson countess doll!” you said, and his smile filled you with even more warmth.

“then this must be fate then, huh?” he asked.

“must be.”

you continued to walk in pleasant silence, the snow swirling around you and getting caught in your hair. as you walked under streetlights, you felt homelander’s hand squeeze your shoulder, and you hummed softly.

“yes?” you asked, glancing up at him before sipping your drink again.

“just wanted to tell you how beautiful you look in the snow, that’s all,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple.

“aw, you’re too sweet,” you said, snuggling into his side again.

“only for you,” he said, brushing a few snowflakes from your hair. you took a few more sips of your drink to finish it off, and he took the cup from you to throw out. with a smile, you wrapped an arm around his waist as you walked, and as you neared vought tower, he stopped, and pull you to his chest. you wrapped your arms around his neck, tucking yourself into him before he took off into the air.

“john, it’s chilly up here,” you said, and he squeezed you.

“i know, i know. but just take a look,” he whispered, urging you to tilt your head. you did so, and you gazed out over the city. the lights twinkled below, the snow drifted down, and the city had never looked more beautiful.

“oh wow. it’s beautiful,” you breathed, and he smiled.

“not as beautiful as you,” he whispered, tilting your head back to him. he leaned down and captured your lips in a gentle kiss, and you smiled before returning the kiss.

“thank you for sharing this with me,” you said softly as he brought you back to the ground.

“of course. i wanted you to see our own little winter wonderland,” he said, letting go of you to open the door to the tower, allowing you in before him. “but the view is just as nice from my penthouse.”

“i’ll bet it is. lead the way,” you said, and he grinned.

“with pleasure.”

#homelander x reader #homelander fluff #12 days of ficmas #ficmas 2022 #atomwritez ficmas #homelander ficmas #atomwritez

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withinthebrain · 5 months

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Converging Fences

As I drive through this subdivision where houses could shake hands, I notice the fences doing just that. Privacy fences intermingle with cute picket fences, playfully nudging the tattered chainlink that runs between a blue house and the neighbor's yellow garage.

The walkways, or narrow alleyways between each house, are barely a wingspan apart. I would swear the houses must be claustrophobic, uncertain if the hedge row belongs to them or the neighbor.

Backyard fences, connected like a complex electrical grid, pass messages from house to house. Squirrels scale the tops of the fences, displaying acrobatic feats in pursuit of a snack. Stray cats scurry through gaps and holes, following well-traversed paths between houses.

Neighbors check in, each comfortably seated on plastic lawn chairs on their own back stoop. Their conversations easily resonate across the entire block as they discuss Bill's chicken on the grill, Jen's freshly picked tomatoes, and the new pup Sammy has curled on her lap.

Of course, for children, it's an endless playground. Houses so close that you can send flashlight messages from the window in the dark or rig up a pulley system from one house to the next, passing toys and notes to friends. Not to mention the endless yard space as they pass through gates and over fences to use a basketball net, take a swim in a pool, or play on a swing set.

In a neighborhood where houses are packed tighter than sea lions on a buoy on a sunny day, they practically lean on one another. The fences not only delineate but also support each other, fostering connections among families.

#spilled thoughts #spilled ink #writing #my writing #writing blog #description #subdivision #my friendly neighborhood #neighborhood #typography #words typed #typed words #word art #EKW

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toweroftickles · 10 months

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Magical Wake-Up Call (Cats 2019 Fluff)

Cats, it must be said, are a lazy breed. This is common knowledge. But Victoria was not normally one to lie around in bureau drawers or on windowsills, sunbathing, licking her wrists, doing nothing. Well, except on her birthday.

Her & Misto’s human family had set up a simple oval cat bed, woolly in texture and faded olive green, in the corner of the drawing room and beneath the broad, white-framed window. Midday sun poured in and covered Victoria in a warm puddle of light, and you could see the dust in the air floating carelessly by the edge of her fuzz. A bundled-up peach-colored blanket served as a crude pillow for her while she curled into a comfy little ball, knees at her chest, purring contentedly.

Wow…she looks beautiful. Mr. Mistoffelees’ heart swelled. For the past half hour, a small beige-ish couch across from Victoria had been his resting place, and he was unmoving from a vulture squat.

He didn’t want to disturb her, not for anything, but he was getting antsy and impatient. It was Victoria’s first birthday with the Jellicles, and Misto was determined to make her feel like part of the tribe. With the help of Munkustrap - as he lacked organizational skill himself - he’d successfully encouraged everyone to do something special for her. Bustopher Jones gathered together a whole Jellicle Feast from his usual back-alley haunts. (Or rather, he’d enlisted others to do it for him and snacked on it during the journey over.) Jennyanydots knew how much Victoria loved her cockroaches and had worked out a last-minute mini-routine with them. The calico twins really went all-out, setting up a basket and pulley from an upstairs window to ferry the two above the streets and right to the Egyptian. Hopefully it would be romantic…that was the idea. But the longer Victoria slept, the more everyone else had to wait.

Maybe he could get her attention with something. Misto didn’t yet have any real, proper control over his conjuring tricks…his wand, his cards, and his dice were the only things he could produce with any consistency. But reaching into his hat or coat always seemed to give him exactly what he needed at any given moment. What would be in there today…a paper clip? No, that won’t help. A can of peaches…a flower…a rubber duck…

From inside his sleeve he finally pulled a huge, fluffy brown peacock feather, the kind of quill that some pretentious upper crust debutante would write letters with (or a toy that a cat would play with, were it on the end of a stick). It was the size of his torso and dressed in joyfully squiggly barbs.

He paused. A few glances, back and forth, between his arm and Victoria, and a lightbulb switched on in his head. Misto held his new toy out as he would his magic wand, grinning like a Cheshire, and silently tiptoed up to his mate. Oh, perfect…this'll be fun.

The feather slowly stroked up and down the arch of Victoria’s foot, several times…it took a second, but the sleepy white kitten shivered. Her toes clenched up. There it was…a big smile.

“MmmmMMM-Hmhm,” a high-pitched giggle slipped out through her nose. Victoria snapped her arms and legs in like a beartrap around her makeshift pillow and struggled to keep her lips glued together. Her thin fingers clasped tightly at her sides, instinctively trying to shield her from further tickle attacks. Though she made efforts to hide her face, Misto still caught a glimpse of that pretty smile peeking out at him.

Now it was a little game for the both of them: for Victoria, to see how long she could pretend to keep sleeping. For Mr. Mistoffelees, how quickly he could make her laugh. And neither was intent on losing.

“Heh-Heh…come on; I know how ticklish you are,” Misto whispered to her, unable to hide his smirk. He had to hold Victoria’s ankles still as her feet tried to flex and squirm away from his giant feather. It tickled back and forth until her cheeks turned pink.

The soft bristles slowly traced across her pale soles…up her leg…on the back of her knee…her thigh…along her waist…toward her neck...every little brush made Victoria's shoulders tremble. She was a squirmy girl. Her tail danced happily in broad swipes like a metronome…tick, tick, tick….she wasn’t fooling anyone.

"Hmhm-Hm! *gasp* Hih-Hng...Nnnnnn," she whined. She was biting her lip, doing a pretty good job bottling her giggles, while the feather kissed her cheek and shyly slid up to her sensitive ears.

Hm…this wasn’t working. Time for drastic measures. Cracking his knuckles, Mistoffelees turned the quill around and scribbled its sharp tip, as if he were writing, in one of the little canyons in between his girlfriend’s ribs.

Aha! Got her! The white cat squealed quite suddenly and covered her face with both hands. Her flushed-pinkish ears sloped back in dreadful embarrassment.

“Heek! Ok ok ok, I can't t-hake any more…I pr-ha-homise to get up, please dohon’t,” she begged him, snickering helplessly. Her laugh had a wilting, musical sugariness that lured Misto in closer.

“Come on, sleepyhead...” Now that he’d won the game, there was no need to be shy. Misto wanted to look like some big, scary monster pouncing on Victoria from behind (just to be playful), though he was hilariously bad at seeming threatening…he couldn’t even manage a decent growl…and following a half-hearted hop, he awkwardly tumbled forward on top of her, snuggling her in his arms.

All ten of his fingers combat-crawled through the fields of snowy fuzz that coated Victoria’s quivery torso, up her belly and ribs, affectionately scratching her soft skin all over until he was tickling in both of her armpits. She wriggled desperately underneath him. Her insides warmed up like she’d just gulped down a mug of hot cocoa.

"Heh...I wonder who's having more fun here; you or me," the magical cat playfully taunted his mate. That just made her laugh even more.

“Heehee! Hih-Hih Hn…Haha, Ha-Ha!” Victoria giggled and giggled but didn’t want to stop, lost in the shower of nibbling kisses that peppered her neck. Her big grin was half from ticklish laughter and half from the sheer fun of tussling and wrestling with her boy. Pulled by her thin wrists, she was turned over on her back, breathless, trembling, and smiling sweetly up at Misto. Their fingers intertwined, palms pushing against each other, with Victoria unable to shove him away. At last she spoke, still a little giddy. “What’s going on?”

Suddenly, from behind her ear, as if he were retrieving a magic disappearing coin, Mr. Mistoffelees produced an elongated metal earring and gently attached it to her. It was sort of similar to the one she'd worn during her mischievous outing with the calicos – a tall shell shape of pearly pink-white texture, dotted with little veins of gold. She reached up and touched the jewelry when she realized it was dangling from her ear. It was a little big for her, but she always felt so beautiful wearing them - like a princess, she sometimes said. She was not vain, but it was a bit of a weakness for her.

“Heh…ha-happy birthday,” Misto told her, blushing. She smiled right back at him.

“Aw…mmm, thank you so much…but…why did you have to tickle me awake just to tell me that?” She didn't want to be annoyed or upset with him, really; she loved how affectionate Misto was. But part of her couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that her nap was cut short.

“Oh, well, I…um…I-I had a lot planned. Everyone’s waiting for you.” Victoria’s ears perked up. “It was kind of a big deal…I thought we could do some really…fun things today.”

Slowly, Victoria propped herself up on her wrists, and before Mistoffelees could react, zipped forward and pecked him on the end of his nose.

Time stood still, freezing Misto in surprise. His tail curled into a candy cane and his nose turned red, and this delighted Victoria as she stretched out, yawned softly, and stood from her cot. She moved with surprising buoyancy; by the time Misto snapped out of his blip of a trance, Victoria was already across the room by the door and admiring her birthday present in a copper wall mirror. She turned the earring over in her fingers again and again, practically radiating from the inside. There was a twinkle of light all about her, not just from the noon summer sun streaking through her fur.

“Come on!” she called her boyfriend excitedly.

Well…I certainly wouldn’t want to keep her waiting. Not needing any further encouragement, the gleeful Mr. Mistoffelees bounced up and dashed over to her, and soon the two were gone.

It was only in the trailer and not the finished film, but I always loved this shot of Victoria playing in pillow feathers. Not for tickle reasons; it's just cute. ^^

So apparently this is my niche now. This is the life I've chosen. I got this request (and finished it) a really long time ago, but I never uploaded it because I didn't want anyone to think I'm weirder than they already do. XD Don't worry, "normal" stuff is back on the menu soon.

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