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partycatty · 1 month

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johnny cage > take a load off

johnny had a bad day of work, so you take care of him .... ;)

warnings: the sloppiest toppy known to mankind, overstimulate that whore, also i don't fully understand male meat and how long their ultimate ability cooldown is

notes: @crimsonbubble coming in clutch again with the inspo! this was so FUCKING hard to write, i poked and prodded at this for days before i felt okay with it.

[ masterlist ]

• "baby, i just said i had a bad day at work, you don't need to do all this," johnny's fingers twirl in your hair as your cheek presses against his thigh, fiddling with his belt buckle.

• you tell him you want him to relax for once, being a director is so much more work than being a pretty boy on camera. he visibly twitches in his seat, shifting his hips forward ever so slightly. complying with your desire, his thighs part even further for you.

• "you know i can't turn down that sweet face," johnny reaches between his legs down to your face, lightly squishing your cheeks with one hand. he leans back on the couch, stretching his arms out behind the back and getting himself comfortable as you finally tug his slacks away from his hard-on, tapping his thigh so he pulls his hips upward and lets you slide his pants to his knees.

• getting access to his boxer briefs and the strained cock underneath, you waste no time in attempting to get a taste, licking a fat stripe up the fabric as your hot mouth makes him shiver in anticipation.

• you answer his sharp intake of breath by feeling up the length of his shaft, catching your fingers against his tip and milking it of precum as it begins to pool in the fabric of his boxers, darkening the spot nicely. you pump him slowly through his underwear as he bites down on his finger, restraining himself from spilling nasty words of desperation your way.

• tempted to draw them out, you squeeze just enough to make him twitch, feeling his cock throb in your grip as you grasp the base of his cock, observing how much it tents up.

• "play nice," he gently warns you, tilting his head back with a groan. "don't be a tease, doll."

• little does he know that any attempt to ask for the real thing only prolongs such. you begin to stroke his cock through the boxers and he writhes and wriggles, muffling whimpers with his palm slapped over his mouth. his hips involuntarily buck up when you kiss his tip, swirling your palm around his tip in a circular motion.

• you ask him what's wrong in that deadly sultry voice of yours, continuing this circling with a devious look. johnny parts his fingers, showing his parted lips as he gasps and whines.

• "pl..." he swallows thickly, his honey eyes wet with need. "please."

• your hand speeds up, pulling more whimpers and begs from his plush lips.

• "ohh - fuck, fuckfuckfuck please, i-" moans spill from his mouth, beyond desperate for your touch. "please, i'll be good, i'll be so good, please take it out, i can't-"

• his pleadings for pleasure finally are satiated when you free his dick from its constraints, letting out an impressed noise as his length bounces up and slaps against his stomach. you'd never seen his cock so pink and needy, a fresh pearl of precum beading at the slit. his face was flushed, brows knitted together and he looked as if he could cum there and then out of need.

• fueled by the desire to have him squirm and whimper, you hollow your cheeks out as your lips absorb his tip, swirling your tongue and tasting the eager precum as it drools out. his hand flies down to the back of your head, only to freeze midway and reach back up to cover his eyes. you wanted control, and he was giving it to you. if he looked down at the sight, though, he feared he'd finish early — which could only lead to more torture.

• hoping to catch him off guard, you fully sink down onto his cock, letting it embrace the fleshy walls of your mouth and throat as it glides in with ease. you had taken him many times before like it was a hobby, so it was no real sweat, that is until it became a little too much right off the bat.

• just as your nose brushes against his crotch, he lets out a cry of incoherent whines, bucking up as far as your throat allowed him, which wasn't much at this point. curses and your name drooled from his lips even as he tried to bite them shut, gripping the couch with all of his might lest he try to fuck your face through his orgasm. you look up at him in surprise as you lips remained around him, raising an eyebrow as his cum forces its way into your throat.

• "mmfgh— i'm sorry," he whines before letting out a long sigh. "sorry, sorry, i — it was too much." his face is red with embarrassment. never in all his time did he cum so quickly to anyone but you, you were like his horny kryptonite and it embarrassed the hell out of him.

• you tut, pumping lazily at his cock and your eyes flick between it and his flushed face. looking down, you realize that his cock is still semi-hard, and you decide that you're not quite done with johnny. he seems to understand that too, eyes widening in worry at just how far you'll push him tonight while also coming to the realization that he's super into this...

• you flick his chubbed dick with amusement, switching between that and strokes just to watch him jolt and gasp from his sensitive area being toyed with so cruelly. you manage to work him up again just right, and his cock hardens not quite back to maximum but enough to properly work with.

• johnny wants to tell you to stop, that it's all too much and he can't come again, but he knows better by now, and is honestly curious to see if you truly could pull another one out of him.

• "i already came—" he pleads, trailing off in hope you understand his warning that he may not be able to continue. you give him a funny look, like he said something truly stupid.

• "...okay?" you frown, tilting your head. "s-so?"

• "so i..." he swallows thickly, holding his own cheek as his gaze averts. "i'm not sure how much left i got in me."

• you hum, not in agreement though. in acknowledgement, ignoring his warning as your lips envelop his tip once more and he lets out a strained cry, arching his back from the couch. he's overly sensitive, you were sure to target his tip beforehand, now it was time to please the rest.

• your hands raise to his body, using a great deal of strength to pin one to his stomach and the other up his shirt to flick your finger around his hardened nipple. from your position it was hard to get a full feel, so you instead pinched it between your index and middle finger's lengths. at the same time, you sink further onto his cock, inspecting every crease in his face as they contort.

• "you're — oh, fuck — you're so mean to me," he whines, panting as he tries pathetically to escape from your touch. "i think i may die."

• "don't be a baby," you hum as your lips kiss the slit, making him whimper again as the vibrations of your voice send a white hot pleasure through his nervous system. johnny tries to laugh at your insult, but he's so nervous and needy he can't find his usual chuckle in his throat, only a breathy giggle interrupted by a longer groan as you return your mouth to his cock.

• this time, you're focused on the entirety of the length and johnny only finds enough strength to brush your hair from your face, fingers twitching each time you reach the base of his shaft.

• bobbing at a brutal pace now, the wet squelch of your throat threatens to sound downright gross. your lips are dripping, drooling from a mixture of saliva and the slick of cum left saturating in his skin. you toy with his balls lazily, letting out grumbly moans that drive johnny to see stars.

• his back is arching hopelessly, head thrown back as his pornographic moans echo through the high ceilings of your living space, crying out as if he needs some kind of higher being to grant him the mercy to finish again.

• his prayers are answered when his orgasm rides up on him quickly, enhanced by his sensitivity. his heavy cock twitches and throbs on your tongue, and you know exactly what's bound to happen; you pull away entirely, wrapping your hand around his dick and squeezing so hard he's cut off from spilling his seed across his stomach.

• at this blatant and cruel denial, johnny's lashes dampen with frustration and need, looking down at you with a bewildered expression as pleas spill from his lips.

• "please," he begs like he might explode. "please, please, don't do that, i need to cum so fu— baby, i'm not joking. i'm gonna die."

• "i thought you couldn't cum?" his own words fly back at him and all he can do is let out a cry of anger at the denial, pouting at your cocky expression.

• he speaks through his teeth, clenching hard on his jaw to avoid the tears flowing. "i can."

• "i dunno," you gently squeeze onto his cock again, and it genuinely looks like it might burst from how swollen it's gotten. "i don't think so..."

• grunting in frustration, he takes the opportunity to fuck himself on your hand, planting his arms on the couch and bucking up into you with a frenzied need pulled from somewhere deep and submissive inside of him. he probably couldn't take it, and sincere doubts clouded his mind, but the need for a release was so overwhelming he was starting to lose his other senses.

• he deserved some kind of release, you figured as you let him use your hand as he wanted. it's only about thirty seconds or so before he's whimpering again, eyes clenched shut as he focuses on cumming into your fist for the second time. matching his speed, you twist your fist as he fucks into it, and it's here that you notice he's actually crying.

• his nose is pink and his cheeks are rosy, highlighting the shine of two fine tearstreaks running down his cheeks and it unlocks something ugly and primal in your core. may the elder gods forgive your carnal desire to have one of the chosen ones cry at your touch.

• both of your hands fold behind your back abruptly as johnny now fucks into the air, desperate for friction once again. his subtle crying turns into sobs as he feels his painful erection go, once again, ignored.

• "you're evil," he sobs, raking his hands through his hair as his voice becomes borderline genuinely angry. "you're evil, you're so... you're so cruel, the worst—" he takes back everything when you lean forward and take half of him in your mouth, sucking him off hands free. johnny's eyes roll back as his sentence is cut short. his jaw is slack and a priest might call his expression possessed as your cheeks hollow out to clamp yourself on his cock.

• this time, he makes a complete mess of himself as you lick at his shaft, tugging his cock as his seed finally spills onto his thighs and stomach, spilling around your hand. there was so much, much more than usual, spurts of cum shooting out with each moan and weak thrust of his hips.

• "too much," he whimpers as your hand doesn't stop stroking. his thighs twitch and attempt to close on you but you're sitting right between them, so his efforts only clench onto your shoulders. you kitten lick at the underside of his dick as he starts to crack a smile, giggling and writhing as you continue to toy with him after his second round. "baby, i can't anymore. i really can't." his voice breaks each time your fingers catch on his tip, tears flowing freely now. whether it was due to his overwhelming love or the way you milk him relentlessly, he's too fucked out to decide.

• "one more," you purr, eyes in a trance as you observe his softened cock twitch in delight at your command.

• you're not even sure if he got fully hard, or hard at all, your brain feels foggy, eyes glazed, and arm numb as you pump at him ruthlessly, ears only trained on his sobs and curses, his useless begs of you to stop mean absolutely nothing when you glance up to see his chin touching his chest, drool slipping past his lower lip and tears staining his cheeks. he looks like the most beautiful painting you'd ever seen, the finest statue carved from the finest marble.

• it was too much work to do much else after a while, johnny could only gasp or jolt as his cock is tortured, pulling every ounce of pleasure he could ever conjure up with every pump. at some point unbeknownst to the both of you, your lips once again made a special appearance as the softened flesh is toyed with by your tongue.

• johnny's sobs turn to barely there whimpers as he feels the knot building up again, the heat and pressure present but the hardness is nowhere to be found. even still, he cums again, body trembling and twitching as his plush, pink lips move and say something entirely soundless.

• you feel no cum paint the insides of your mouth, and you realize he was actually serious. he was shooting blanks into you, entirely spent and used for the night. you're proud of yourself, fighting a beaming grin as you admire his stupefied expression.

• pecking his softened dick one last time, you pepper kisses from his v-line all the way up to his neck. soft, featherlight kisses warm his sweaty skin up in a more comforting way than the agony did as your face buried itself into the crook of his neck, breathing his musk mixed with cologne with a content moan.

• "you did so good," you kiss tender marks into the flesh. "so good, pretty boy."

• "mhm," is all he can hum out, chin still pressed against his chest.

• "you okay?"

• "mhm."

• words feel impossible, his tongue was too heavy and his jaw was too weak to move. you giggle at his dumb face, walking off to clean him off as he laid there like a rag doll to your touch.

• you find the good side of you return as you tidy up his dress shirt, dressing his pants back on and latching his belt in place while he's practically a zombie sprawled out on the couch.

• "you needed to take a load off," you remind him of his work stress as you hover in front of him, hands on your hips after successfully cleaning the mess on his toned skin. you kiss away his tears, wiping at them with your thumb.

• "i love you," is the first coherent thing he can muster up with a sniffle, but he genuinely does mean it. he'd say it right away even if he was fully conscious. through sleepy eyes, he raises his arms and does grabby hands toward you with a lopsided smile.

• "i love you too," you return the phrase as you crawl on top of him, wrapping your arms around his torso as you snuggle up to his neck. "such a good boy for me."

• "don't say that," he murmurs, eyes shutting with a content breath. "i'll get hard again."

• "will you?" your voice is teasing, doubting the statement completely after what you pulled from him three times in a row. johnny's eyes remained closed but a smile pulls at his face.

• "no," he replies, knowing damn well it was an impossible ask. plus, he'd rather lay with you now more than anything.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #mk1 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #mortal kombat smut

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seraphimaa · 27 days

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Doll for a day - Part 2

Soft(ish)!Raphael x fem!Tav x Haarlep

Raphael sets out the terms for his forgiveness. After all, it’s not nice to feel left out.

Raphael makes her fuck his incubus in front of him and then tests her dedication.

Warnings: selfish idiots with feelings

PART 1

She can’t stop her face from cringing. It’s all the confirmation he needs and he falls into silence, processing. He is furious, yes, but he can’t help the faint relief that is flooding him. The board is still in play. Her mouth forms the shapes of letters but nothing seems to come out. She takes a breath, utters only the word, “leaving”, like he’s supposed to find reassurance in it, and turns to flop onto her stomach, beginning to drag herself by her arms towards the edge of the bed.

“No.” She feels his thighs clench to hold her own, the thick ropes of muscle halting her movement. Her face hits the silk and she lets herself simply collapse in defeat under the master of the house. “What the hells is wrong with you? You come into my house, look at my things, touch my things, fuck my things.” He’s spitting with rage the more he rambles and with every word she pushes her head further and further into the covers, half in an attempt to smother herself.

“Then you think you can just what? Scamper off? Tell me, Tav, is your sheer aptitude for being this insufferable nature, or nurture? Did somebody drop you on your head as an infant, or were you simply born this way?”

“Born...” Her words are barely comprehendible through the bedding. He grunts in acknowledgement and takes a break from frowning at the detailing in the wallpaper to look down at the fleshy heap. She looks pathetic and entirely resigned.

“And what, on all of the planes, were you ever hoping to achieve, pray tell?” Her shoulders shrug limply. “Hm.” He hums, unimpressed, and lets her stew in the silence until he hears her again, clearly desperate to move things along .

“No reason.”

“Oh thank goodness,” her ears perk at the happy tone, “I find so much comfort in knowing you would cause all of this chaos for no reason at all.” Never mind.

“And what did you plunder and soil?” He sniffs indignantly, “other than my sheets and incubus.”

He expects another short, mumbled response but instead he feels her begin to shake under him rhythmically. For a brief moment, he thinks she’s laughing like a maniac but then he hears her sobs.

Her head lifts just enough for her cries to ring clearly. “I’m sorry! Okay? I payed that lady to open the portal. I don’t know what I was thinking. I promise. I wasn’t going to touch anything, just look. Then I ended up here and you were here too and you were so nice but it wasn’t you but he looked so good and he felt so good and I didn’t want to stop, I couldn’t, I don’t know what I was thinking-I wasn’t thinking!” It all comes out in a jumble and her head flops down again as she shudders in another wave of sobs. Haarlep’s tail can be heard wagging against the sheets absently, only paying attention the indirect praise aimed his way.

For what feels like the hundredth time in one day, he heaves a massive sigh. It feels like an eternity that the scene drags on. Raphael ponders whether this is all a cruel, fated karma playing out. He considers what sins it were that landed him in the constant circus show that he appeared to ringlead daily. He looks at the three of them, on the bed, and thinks that they would fit perfectly on renaissance style painting. Haarlep is crouched with knees to the side, looking every part the demonic gargoyle of a creature that Raphael considers him to be, tail wagging in the air and looking very pleased with himself. His mouse is splayed dramatically on the bed like a tortured damsel, wailing and he is slumped in his own pose of enduring anguish. He considers giving her a further tongue wagging but she appears to be torturing herself just fine for now. Hells, you’d think she was the victim here.

Her sobs hiccup as she feels Raphael twist and rise from the bed. She cranes, terrified to see what kind of torture he is about to impose on her but her puffy, wet face is met with the curve of his bare spine and hips as he strides to the desk against right wall. She definitely doesn’t look at the jiggle of fat on his ass as he stomps over and throws himself back into the chair. She definitely doesn’t look anywhere in particular as he reclines back, neck craned at a sharp angle over the back of the oak. His eyes snap to hers, and he crosses his legs with a frown, and she averts her gaze to the wall beside his head for no related reason. He tears open a drawer and brings out a dusty bottle of vintage. He busies himself with uncorking the bottle, and pulls out a glass. He fills it without any grace, almost overflowing the rim then knocks it back, taking his time before he swallows it down. She’s tempted to ask him what comes next but the withering look he shoots her way as she intakes air to begin makes the words die on her tongue. She swallows with an awkward nod and settles her face back into the covers. She is good at ruminating and wallowing. This is fine. Even the incubus seems to pick up on the sudden lack of energy in the room and he flops back wriggling around, fluttering his wings and swishing his tail, as he gets into a comfortable position. His leg thumps her own and he whines until she shuffles over, half hanging over the edge. He mimics the brooding duo and lets out a sigh, his own airy and perfectly content.

Raphael is surprisingly the first to break the peace.

“Why did you sleep with it?”

There’s hesitation in his tone, almost like he couldn’t decide if he truly wants the answer. She is completely caught off guard and lifts her head after some thought, enough to respond but not enough to have to face him as as she does.

“It was just a really bad mistake.”

Haarlep seems to take offence to this, his tail whipping her leg as it beats back and fourth in protest but he stays silent, intent on listening to this play out.

“No,” his tone is wary but he speaks like this is something important to him, “you knew the risk. As much as you would like to galavant through life like a court jester, you are smart. What was it exactly that made you decide to take that miscalculated risk?”

“I don’t know! I was, I was just…” She seems to sway between deflection and truth but eventually finds her answer.

“I was just desperate.” He cocks an eyebrow as if deciding on how to perceive her words but when her face emerges pink and swollen from the sheets, intense and ugly, altogether striking, he sees the burning honestly. “Really desperate.”

“Excuse me!” Haarlep cranes to look at her, wings flaring, entirely offended. He is not reading the silent layers of communication happening amongst the rude guests of in his little sanctuary. “And just what, exactly, are you trying to imply? Don’t act like I didn’t have you mewling happy as a kitten, eyes crossed in bliss as you bounced yourself around dumb and drunk on my cock. Don’t act like you didn’t throw yourself at the chance to come undone under me, specifically. You said that you needed him, me, raw and undiluted. No rude lies on my bed, please.” It is the first time, in the short span they’d shared together, that she’d seen the fiend seem truly displeased. They both pointedly ignore his bruised ego and the implications of his words.

“And what was it, exactly, you were so desperate for?” She gives a small shake of her head in protest of what he is trying to drag out of here.

“I just wanted to be touched.”

“Then you would have gone to the brothel. Try again.”

“I wanted to be touched by someone who I knew.”

“Then you would have crawled your way into the tent of one of your willing companions long ago, I’m sure. I’m tired, little mouse.” She builds her courage enough to glance at him through damp lashes and he really is slumped in utter defeat. He’s nursing a new glass, and his face has never looked so tired. It feels violating to witness him like this, even more so than seeing him naked ever had. he takes in her face, full of fear and pain. She looks like saying it might break her, like it’s the last thing she wants to do. She looks at him like he is cruel, and she is begging him to spare her. His face hardens and he drains the last in his glass, not hesitating to empty the bottle in its place.

“I..” he trails off, before shaking his head and standing up, throwing his hand out dismissively.

“Forget I said anything. Go. Get dressed. I’ll organise a portal out.” She openly balks at him. “But what about-“ he doesn’t wait for her to finish.

“Please. You’ve done enough. Spare both our dignities any further blows for one day and just go.” He falls back into his chair, tapping his finger on the desk impatiently, staring into the liquid crimson in his hand. She swings herself up, sitting with her back to him and she is glad for the fact because once again, to her frustration, her eyes blur with tears. She feels like everything is crashing down upon her and the reality of the day is setting in, finally. This is unfixable. She’d taken a running jump over every boundary they constructed and respected until now. It was like a game. The flirting, the teasing, the goading. It was relentless, but they both played by the same unspoken rules. They were both smarter than to fall for the words the other spun. It had felt, in a way, safe. But she isn’t smart. Somewhere along the way she’d come to anticipate their next encounter. She felt a flutter in her stomach when he smiled down at her, so dashing and smug. She played their conversations over and over again when alone, trying to spy a crack in his performance, a subtle sign that he harboured his own strange fondness for her. She’d replaced the face of the imaginary companion with his when he brought herself to completion late at night. If she leaves now, there’s no going back. She decides to speak before she can change her mind. If she walks away then he’d take this as her final answer. It would mean whatever they had would be over.

“No.” She stands from the bed. She ignores the withering look she shoots her and strides around the bed. “I’m not going. You can’t make me.” He is close to reminding her that this is very much not the case but she keeps coming closer, stopping when her legs bump his knees and suddenly her hand is around the glass, brushing his, as she pulls it from his grip and tips it back. The liquid seeps around the seam and drizzles down her chin, falling and painting her nude frame. She finishes it with a gasp and sets it back into the desk, he holds his breath as she leans over him but she keeps her gaze detached from his. She plonks herself onto the bed, facing him.

“I was desperate for you. I just wanted you. I couldn’t have it so I took what I could. Im a greedy, selfish, depraved asshole and I know I really messed everything up but you can’t just send me away. You have to forgive me. I’m not leaving here until you forgive me. I’ll stay right here, as long as it takes, but you have to tell me what it is that I need to do. Please, Raphael, how do I fix it?”

She begins so doubt herself the longer he remains catatonic and brooding but at last he humours her.

“You’ve found a way to rewind time, my sweet little fool?” She shakes her head but isn’t willing to give up now that she had his attention.

“Without hindsight I’d have done it again, to be honest. Something else. Realistic, maybe.” She’s slowly gaining back that deplorable attitude and confidence.

“Watch your mouth, mouse. Remember exactly what has landed you here. If you want my forgiveness then I should know exactly what I am forgiving.” She quirks a brow at this, feeling an uneasy flutter at the way his face morphs to a determined smile, as if setting a challenge he expects her to fail.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well,” he crosses one leg over the other and his posture is creeping back into its usual confidence, “how could I ever forgive you when you went behind my back and now, when asked to simply take responsibility and admit to everything, you wail like a bairn. One would be led to believe that it was your form that had been violated so rudely from across the planes from all this hysteria. It’s madness.” They glare at each other as he lays his condition before her.

“I need to even the playing field, Tav. Any embarrassment you have caused me will be returned tenfold. You see, I’m starting to feel rather left out. Like the only one not in on your little joke. You will show me as everything that happened after you entered this room. Your recreation must be convincing enough to make me believe the words you say and you will show me every detail of how it happened.”

He watches as she rises at once with a yelp.

“I’m sorry, you want me to do what?”

“Haarlep does love to put on a show. Quite the performer. All you need to do is read the lines as they were written. You should be familiar with them as you did write them yourself, did you not?” Haarlep lets out a happy sound behind her. She falls to her knees, reaching for his legs.

“Please. Eternal torture, death, anything but this.”

His foot kicks to smack her beggar hands away.

“Oh feeling embarrassed? Humiliated? Violated? My, my, mouse, quite a turn of a tables, is it not?”

She glares up and tries to feign dignity as she clambers back onto her feet.

“And if I do it then everything will go back to normal? Forgiven and forgotten.” He considers her phrasing.

“Forgiven? Why of course. I am a man of my word after all.” She puffs herself up and turns, making her way to behind the pool partition. She emerges from the far side, walking in an unintentionally exaggerated manner, every single movement screaming discomfort. She gasps loudly in surprise at the incubus on the bed, lounging back in character.

“Gracious, Raphael, your buxom bosom is exposed to the elements.” She raises her hand to her forehead, feigning as if to faint at the sight. It draws a giggle from Haarlep and a groan from Raphael. Can’t please everyone, she supposes.

“That’s strike one. On the third I’ll drop you into the middle of the sea with a snap of my fingers. I swear it.” She gawks at him as he sneers at her, entirely unimpressed. He was definitely not in the mood.

At his instruction, she begins the scene agin, from the top. This time she echos her words, verbatim.

“Ah, Raphael! Why…are you dressed like that?” She was not born for the stage, but it will do. Haarlep is bristling with excitement as he begins his part of the act. Ah, Roleplay! How exciting!

“My, my. Is that a little mouse skittering through my house?” His grin is as devilish as she remembers it. “How very naughty. Come to serve yourself to the cat? What a surprising course of events indeed.” She studies him as she recites his greeting to her just as he had.

“You’re not Raphael. You look different. Younger. Who are you really?” Haarlep smirks.

“I’m impressed. Very perceptive of you, indeed.” He raises onto his knees, legs spread and muscles rippling as he balances his weight. His abdomen is adorned with keratin ridges leading and pointing down to-no. She wasn’t looking there. She had, but she will safeguard the shreds remaining of her dignity where she can. He doesn’t have to know that.

“My name is Haarlep. You’d do well to remember it for you may just find me drawing it from your lips, like prayer. Very soon.” His hands are spread wide, inviting her to bask in his form. He look like he’s carved from scarlet marble. Like an angel. She instantly remembers exactly how she’d fallen to ruin to quickly. He’s so convincing that she almost forgets that she hasn’t really been taken back to that moment. She does not have to fake the way she freezes under charm of the incubus.

“The master must attend to business. I’m afraid he’s currently buried so deep into his work. You should know that he likes to finish very quickly.”

Raphael grunts, storing this for when he next wanted to berate the demon spawn. Haarlep breaks character to throw a glare over his shoulder.

“What? You said to recreate it exactly.”

“Shut up, Harlot.” He sighs, waving his hand. “Continue.”

The incubus’s gaze is instantly locked back onto hers as he resumes his act and again, he drinks her in. it’s like everything else in the room disappears.

“How lucky you are little mouse. He should not be back for quite some time. You’re all alone with me.” She holds her ground, as dangerous as he looks when he falls onto his hands and begins to prowl towards her. “I propose a little game. One I simply insist you must play before you go. If you don’t, well then I’d just have to assume we’re not friends. If were not friends then you’d be intruding and I would simply have to tell.” Haarlep, and reaches to grab her hands, giving them a light squeeze. She’d looked so scared the first time.

“Come on. I promise it’s not a mean game. I won’t make you do anything bad. I promise. Trust me. Play with me.” His smile is so sweet and gentle that she melts all over again.

“O-ok.”

“Oh goodie! Here are the rules. I ask you one question. Just one! You must tell me the truth. I will know if you lie to me. That’s all.” She frowns, not believing that it could be so easy.

“Oh come now. I won’t tell a soul. Nobody will ever know. It’ll be our little secret. I promise.” She nods and the breath leaves her as the incubus surges towards her. She doesn’t flinch this time, as his face brushes hers. Instead of going for the kiss he teases near her open mouth, he presses his lips to her ear, hissing his question.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

As she had before, she turns, locking eyes with the sultry, demonic slits. Their faces touch from proximity. True to her actions, instead of answering aloud, she closes the distance. She’d been so lost in the spell he must have cast on her when they’d met. There was no other explanation for why she’d been so overcome. But then, why was she feeling it all over again?

The incubus sighs against her mouth as their tongues dance and she’s pulled on top of him. He had undressed her as she lapped the venom straight from his mouth but they are both already naked this time. She grinds and squirms on top of him as the venom begins to seep straight to her head and loins. A heat spreads through her abdomen, hot as coals, and she can feel the trial she’s drooling onto his hard abdomen as she grinds against the rough, leathery skin. The room spins and that drunk feeling washes over her all over again.

She almost forgets that they are not alone, so focussed on the forked tip of his tongue playing with hers and the friction his scaled body is offering. He flips them around and it makes her stomach clench as he pins her below himself. She pants as he pulls away from her, desperately trying to catch her breath and ground herself in reality. Her eyes open and her stomach flops again when she sees Raphael, watching her intently, upside down. Their eyes lock and his lips part slightly as he looks down at her. wild and flushed, completely under the effects of the tainted saliva.

Haarlep fills her view again, coming back down to capture her lips. His hands brush her, his fingers curling though her hair as his thumbs dance over her cheeks. He cradles her face, joining them once more. His hands trail down, one travelling her collar bone and down her arm. It captures her hand in his. The other trails from her collar bone, fingers teasing against the fat of her breast as it tickles down and comes to caress the hardened bud. She whines into the kiss as the smouldering heat flickers to burning and another wave of slick dools from her. His fingers pinch and flick as she grinds and thrusts up at him, desperate for more. She needs to be closer. She needs him inside. He growls a laugh as his hips slam back on top of hers, pinning her to the mattress. Gods, now she understands how they ruined the sheets.

“What an enthusiastic answer, little mouse. Have you been waiting for this? To feel me on top of you?” The first time he’d asked she’d been completely taken by the fantasy that he really was Raphael but now, she was absently aware of his presence elsewhere. His hand tails down the curve of her stomach, toying at the mound of her push, not quite close enough to where she needed it. Now he was truly Haarlep in her eyes and she burned for him all the same.

“Say it. Say that you’re desperate for me. Admit now that I was the only one that you wanted when you came here, that you wouldn’t have done this for any other. I won’t touch you again until you take back your cruel words from before.” She lets out a yelp, squirming with fury and glaring daggers into his beautiful face.

“You didn’t say that!” The incubus giggles and raises his eyebrows, waiting.

“Strike two. Last warning.”

“WHAT? That was him!”

“At least he stayed in character.”

The incubus is all shades of smug, tail wagging.

“Ugh. Fine.” A finger dipping just a breath from her clit drags her back into under his spell and he hums in anticipation.

“Yes,” she chokes, “I only wanted you. I only needed you. I just want you to want me too.” The words pull a hiss from the cambion who can’t deny himself the sincerity, for once, he hears in her voice and knows that her words are for no other than himself. Haarlep hums again, pleased. His finger rewards her, brushing over her clit and her hips jump as she gasps. He giggles again, and squeezes down on her hand. His finger circles around before dipping between the soaked, swollen lips. She quakes and sings out so sweetly as the incubus works to undo her. Raphael’s hand wanders like an independent entity over his clenched thigh, until it finally comes to rest on his groin, fingers ghosting at the base of his hardening length. He watches the flashes of her pleasure revealed to him through the flapping cocoon of wings curled over her. His hand, not by his own volition wraps around himself and he hisses again. His mind is plagued by the memory of how tight and wetly she’d wrapped around him and his hand feels like a pitiful substitute. Nevertheless, he finds his it working slowly, squeezing up and down his weeping cock. His sighs are lost in the chorus of the two menaces on his bed, singing so beautifully.

“My, my. Don’t you two play nicely together. I can see that any worries I may have had that this was a one sided encounter were truly misguided. It seems you both posses no higher rational thinking than the drive of your genitals. I can see why you two get along so well now. It makes perfect sense.” He’s talking more to himself than anyone else but his cock throbs at the whimper it pulls from her anyway. She comes back to her senses enough to realise that she has not yet given Haarlep any attention, too completely lost in the endless throes of pleasure he was wracking upon her. Her hand comes down and wraps around his length, pumping it with desperation, eager to make him feel nearly as good as he did her. The incubus keens and grins into the crook of her neck. He feels the spark of ecstasy from his master as his hips jerk from the seat at the ghost of her touch. His master is already worn out tonight. His hand comes to wrap around hers, halting its motion.

“Ah, ah, mouse. I think we might need to improvise. Wouldn’t want the show to finish before scheduled.” She tries to understand the implications of his words as he flips her over, pulling her ass high into the air. Her eyes are closed as she feels the fiend position behind her and she waves her rump through the air, drunkly whining at the lack of attention. Her eyes shoot open, mouth falling slack as for the third time that night, the shape of Raphael’s cock slides without warning inside of her. Her vision is filled with the man in question, teeth clenched as he takes the sight of them in, cock in trembling hand.

The incubus rocks his hips without urgency. She moans, long and low, with every drag his cock as it carves and stretches her walls around it. One hand is driving into her spine, bending her up and onto him while the other wraps around her hair, pulling her head up and exposing her fully to his master. she’s pulled up and back. He bounces her, leaning back to let her land onto his upturned hips with a wet smacks. She squeals his name, shrill and pitchy.

“Fu-fuck! Haarlep!” He groans in satisfaction, wings fluttering at the sound of his name on the lips of another. For all that he screams inside to just ruin her and drive her into the mattress like last time, he’s not prepared to meet Raphael’s fury if he embarrasses him now. He keeps the pace lazy and controlled, watching the other fiend intensely and reading his pleasure for the signs that he was getting too close. It is like wrestling a feral cat, trying to hold her still and stop her from throwing herself back onto his length without abandon.

Raphael seems to recognise his nearing end as he lets go of himself entirely, gripping the arms of his chair until his knuckles pale.

His voice is strained and gritty as he needles her one last time.

“You know I’m entirely unimpressed. You were so adamant that you wanted me but but it seems you’re able and willing to do little more than bounce on my incubus. It looks like maybe are just desperate, after all. Perhaps I was wrong, you will just throw yourself on any willing cock that asks nicely. how disappointing.”

She hates his stupid, condescending sneer and all at once, she has kicked and fought her way free of the now whining and complaining incubus and is clambering toward the edge. She throws herself from the bed, landing on the floor and crawls like a possessed person to his feet. Her face has an intensity to it that makes even him pause as she bares her teeth and howls in rage.

“Fuck you!”

She’s on top of him now, her hands in his hair, and his scalp burns as she yanks his head backwards.

“I wanted you! You never gave me anything!”

She spears him into her, feeling him shudder.

“You’re all I ever wanted! You’re the only person who makes me cum. You’re the only person I trust. I hate you.”

She’s riding him hard, throwing her weight into every thrust that brings her cunt to press on his pelvis.

“I fucked your incubus. You fucked me. Now I’m fucking you. Everyone can just get fucked!” He would usually be disgusted in her uncivilised language but holy shit, he’s never been so turned on. She is terrifying, and hysterical, and she looks like a queen as she rides.

“You’ve tried to humiliate me but guess what? It didn’t work. It didn’t work because I know you feel the same, don’t you? Am I the one that makes you cum too? You’re just as pathetic as me.“ He’s choking on a moan as she bring her face over his, staring down his eyes and breath venting across his neck.

“I did your fucking deal. You forgive me now. You ever want to get fucked like this, until you can’t feel your own cock, again? Then you cum for me right now and prove right now that you’re no better than me.” He wants to be angry, and hateful. To shove her off and smite her into the depths of hell but instead he flops backwards, body quaking and shuddering as he releases inside of her, her own orgasm milking his seed from him as she screams and collapses onto him.

They stare at each other, panting and trying to find their breath. She leans closer and for a terrifying second, he thinks she is going to kiss him. She doesn’t. She pushes herself up and brings herself to stand on shaking legs. The room is silent as she redresses. When she is done, she turns to look at Raphael expectantly. With a snap of his fingers a swirling portal forms before her. She pauses before disappearing through. She looks to the incubus, reclined back on the bed and gives him a small awkward wave.

“It was nice to meet you?” It’s asked like a question. He nods enthusiastically and waves back with a smile.

“Do come back! It’s been so long since I’ve had a friend! Ta ta now, little mouse.”

She looks to the cambion still flopped in the chair. He is back to his absent brooding. She opens her mouth to say goodbye, maybe apologise, maybe ask what the hells all of that means, but a pointed look tells her that she has done enough and now it is time to go. Happy to avoid the confrontation that awaits them at some point on the inevitable future, she simply gives him a nod and disappears from his home. Peace, at last.

“Well,” the incubus rises with a stretch and makes his way to the heated water of the pool, “wasn’t that just a delight. Do you think she’ll come back at some point? I really could use a play mate, you know.” Raphael again, ignores the ramblings of the lesser fiend and rises to leave. He needs his own bath and the sweet embrace of sleep. He most definitely did not have the energy to deal with the little demon right now. Before leaving the boundary of the room, he half turns to address the incubus.

“I was wondering, did you happen to-“

“Yep. I obviously wasn’t going to let her go without a little payment.” The voice of his little mouse echos from the steaming water with a laugh, like chiming bells.

“Good. Good job, Haarlep.”

He hears an excited intake of air at his praise and takes his leave.

“Get Korrilla to deal with the sheets before tomorrow. I don’t wish to be disturbed again tonight.”

He has forgiven his little mouse, as promised. That did not mean he was near ready to forget. There was no way she would keep herself from him now. Not when he was so eager to explore his new toy in the days to come.

Hello! I hope you liked it! It’s the longest thing I’ve posted and I’m terrified that it was a let down after the first part. Please lmk what you think, I welcome discussion and feedback. This was meant to be a softer, lighter take on Raphael, haarlep, and their mouse but I hope I still somewhat made them likeable and recognisable.

Also, poor Korrilla.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #haarlep #raphael the cambion #baldurs gate raphael #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #raphael romance #raphael x reader #raphael smut #raphael fanfic #raphael #haarlep the incubus #haarlep x you #haarlep x tav #haarlep baldur's gate 3 #haarlep smut #original content

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opluffys · 1 year

Text

Even-

new year, worse me. posted first to my archive, luffys, as always. let me know if it copied weird or if there are errors. pls enjoy <3 :)

tags- accidental voyeurism, size kink, mutual masturbation, reader is insanely horny for ghost, fem reader.

3.2k words.

-Ghost x Reader-

-smut/nsfw-

Suddenly remembering that you had a burning question to ask Gaz, you turned to the men's quarters. Thinking to see him still snoring in bed whilst most of the others were in the mess hall.

Oh, how wrong you had been.

Not only was Gaz nowhere to be found, but you had seen as well as heard something that you most definitely shouldn't have.

Donning that infamous balaclava decorated as a skull, his head tilted back as he fucking groaned deliciously deep. Huge and gloved hand wrapped around his thick and heavy cock, giving it a quick squeeze while lightly pumping himself. He bucked his hips and muttered something when his thumb stroked and pressed against a prominent and sensitive vein alongside his impressive length.

Subconsciously, your thighs had squeezed together, feeling your core flutter. And then, you had remembered that you were practically spying on your higher up in such a private and intimate moment. As quietly as you had entered, you slipped out of the men's barracks, your mind numb and scrambled. Totally forgetting what you had to ask Gaz about anyway.

•

Over the last few days, you had completely avoided encountering anyone from 141, which is actually easier said than done. Especially when being the medics assistant, which meant that you'd pretty much be seeing them after any mission.

Including right now.

Normally, you'd shadow the doctor in your particular sector. But he eventually wanted you to take over for him, so he forced you to take charge for the last week. Typically, that wouldn't have been an issue at all, since you were trained both in the field and in medicine, but when you were so close to the man you had seen pleasuring himself... It's a little hard to focus.

"So, lieutenant... How was your mission..?" You asked, attempting to make your voice sound like you weren't just thinking about him wrecking you with-

"Considering I'm not in a coma, pretty good." He sighed, not at all wincing nor flinching when you closed up his deep gash. You noted how he didn't say dead, he was cocky, arrogant. Rightfully so, though.

You internally criticised who had done a makeshift tourniquet on Ghost's arm, not doing the best job, but enough not to have harsh consequences. Wiping over the neat line of sutures once more, you hummed contently seeing as the intense swelling around the wound has gone down considerably.

"Well, I'm glad you aren't hurt too badly, sir." You smiled underneath the surgical mask, your eyes enough to show that you had truly meant such a sentiment. Your true desire to make sure others are healthy pushing through that sense of perversion.

"You and me both."

•

In the dead of night, you tossed and turned in your bunk. The sweltering heat not the only cause of this, but the throbbing between your legs also a contributory factor.

Figuring nobody was awake, your skilled fingers dipped beneath your waistband and past your panties, practically shoving your fingers deep into your soft and wet hole. You bit back a moan, burying your face into your pillow and imagining it was that immovable wall of a man called Ghost.

You curled your digits inside your fleshy walls, desperately wanting it to be the thicker and more calloused hand of Ghost knuckle deep inside you. Your cunt pathetically spasmed over nothing, your fingers not enough, no, not even close. Especially compared to his hand, his fucking cock, you nearly screamed in desire of just thinking about it once again.

You wondered if he was rough, no, you knew the answer to that. He'd absolutely manhandle you in bed and you wouldn't fucking have it any other way. You knew he'd have your pretty pussy stretched over his hard length, questioning if it'd fit, but knowing that he'd make it fit. Hoping that you could replace that gloved hand of his and give him a handjob that would have him bucking his hips into your hand.

Just thinking of such scenarios made you whimper, your walls clamping down on your fingers as your body shook lightly, your slick making a mess on your thighs.

Fuck.

•

More days had passed by, and they were rather uneventful as your hand was starting to be futile. You knew 141 was returning from a mission today, thanks to your doctor alerting you to be in the med-bay to assist him with those who had been injured. By assist him, he meant that you do everything. As usual.

Thankfully, nobody was too hurt. Save for Gaz resting on a cot in your office, claiming it was, 'better than the shitty mattress in the mens quarters'. He wasn't injured too bad, but you ordered him to get more rest than he typically would.

You wouldn't mind if it was just Gaz, or even Soap. But fucking Ghost had been appearing in 'your' office more than he had ever, and it seemed you were the only one to notice such a thing.

Soap had been decent enough to engage in small talk with you while you would clean as well as inspect his wounds. But Ghost? You'd just be stared at the entire time whenever he would stop by. You wouldn't really care if it had been literally anyone else, but it had to be the man you'd envision fucking you braindead daily.

"So nice to see that you're still in one piece, Soap." You teased, taking a seat in front of said man. "No thanks to your shit stitches." He countered, offering you his bicep, seeming to be the only place that held a laceration. You rolled your eyes, "Oh please, like that old bastard could sew you up half as good." You heard him scoff at this, your gloved hand holding his strong arm still as you wiped his wound clean with alcohol.

"I hope that burns," You laughed, meeting his annoyed gaze. You took the sterilised needle and thread and pierced his skin, carefully watching for any discomfort on his end. Of course, there was none, as he watched your handiwork intently.

Finishing closing his lesion and wiping it clean, you unwound the roll of gauze tape and wrapped it around his bicep tightly. Pulling it taut just to see him wince as you shot him a sly smile. "Alright, I don't want any excessive exercise, at least to do with that arm," you pointed at his damaged bicep, "I don't want to see you in here with that wound open. Hell, it'd be great if I didn't have to see you in here at all." You laughed, seeing him feign offence at your remark.

The two of you engaged in some more friendly banter, so much so that you had forgotten that he had showed with Ghost. He had just laughed and laid back to relax in his cot, finding your frenzied state to be absolutely hilarious.

"Sorry about that, sir." You hadn't had the courage to engage in eye contact with the man, but you knew he had been staring at you. God, you had envisioned being pinned under him to that stare, that gloved hand of his cutting off your steady air flow as he slammed into you. Gazing into you without missing a beat, his hips against yours, his deep accented voice whispering the most vile things- and fuck, your thighs involuntarily squeezed together, attempting to keep your arousal at bay (ultimately failing miserably).

For fucks sake, you were on the damn job.

Sitting across from Ghost and changing your gloves, you craned your head to meet his cold stare, making you feel uneasy, body disproving such a thought as you felt your core blossom with arousal.

Wordlessly, he moved his fatigues to just shy of showing his pectoral muscles, slightly turning to his side to show a nasty gash on his side, hovering just below his ribs. You questioned how he stood patiently, observing you treat Soap while he had bleed into his uniform. But honestly, you have never seen him in pain, even when he'd show up to you or the doctor you shadowed with some horrific injuries.

•

Pulling your surgical mask down and sighing in pure exhaustion, you were amazed that you were still able to stand, considering that you'd been on your feet all day. Running back and forth to help those who were on the brink of death, to rejuvenate them and push these men and women back on the field.

You groaned, stumbling back onto the empty cot as you laid on your side. Your eyes felt heavy, dark circles running underside the fragile skin, attesting to how tired you were. Maybe Gaz was onto something, because damn, these cots were comfortable. Either that, or these bunks were just shit.

You found yourself to be completely alone in the med-bay, which is quite the rarity in itself. Plus, you knew that you wouldn't be seeing anymore patients, since you were positive everyone was asleep. And at first, your thoughts were to join them, and rest your heavy lids to get some much needed shuteye, but this horny streak of yours was getting out of hand, plaguing your everyday thoughts and actions.

You bit back a whimper as you thought to the other day of treating Ghost, your gloved hand flat against his muscles, he was warmer than you had thought. Your eyes fluttered shut as you snuck past the waistband of your scrubs, pushing your soaked panties to the side as your fingers ghosted against your slippery folds. A muted moan left your painted lips, your back arching slightly as you plunged your fingers deep inside-

"This is what you do in your free time,"

No, fuck, this isn't happening.

Your eyes shot open as you sat up as fast as you could, ejecting your fingers from your dripping cunt. Pitifully attempting to frame yourself as you hadn't been doing anything. You had been too embarrassed to say anything in return, just gawking at the very man you had just been fantasising.

"Shit, lieutenant, I'm so-"

"Quiet." He came closer to your shrivelling figure, his fatigues abandoned as he wore a more casual outfit.

"I didn't know that-"

"I said quiet, didn't I?" He was right in front of you now, his leather clad hand reaching for your face, tilting your chin to look at him.

You couldn't hold eye contact, but he forced you to, squeezing your cheeks until you looked back into his piercing gaze. He broke his stare, looking at your hand instead. Ghost let go of your face and instead grabbed your wrist harshly, your hand going limp as his grip was harsh. In the dim lights of the room, the both of you could see the shine of your slick coat your fingers, and you wished that your libido wasn't driven up the wall.

"Fuckin' filthy." He rasped, letting go of your hand, his stare returning to your wide and doe-like eyes.

"I guess we're even now, aren't we?" You looked at him with a puzzled expression, and then it hit you.

He knew.

He fucking knew that you had seen him fucking into his hand somewhat desperately, and he had to have known that it had absolutely ruined you these last few days.

"I guess so." You sighed, a newfound courage finding way into your muddied brain. You stood from the cot, looking up at Ghost. "But I could show you something much better than your hand, sir."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Little whore."

You nearly came undone at that lone comment then and there. Normally, if any man had dared to say such a thing remotely similar to what had come from his mouth, you'd slap them and walk away. But damn it all, you'd subject yourself to the worst comments just for him, just for him to use you like a fuck-doll.

You sat back onto the cot, spreading your legs just barely enough so that he noticed, his eyes returning on you once again. You slipped out of your scrub bottoms, your own eyes glued to his as you had returned to pleasing yourself, acting as if your boss hadn't been in the same room as you.

"Mm, fuck, Ghost." You whined, your fingers suddenly halted from your ministrations. "Who said that you could touch yourself? You haven't earned it, slut." You almost purred at his degrading words, your insides clenching on nothing, oh so desperately hoping for something, for him.

Sitting across from you, your eyes settled on his clear erection, not at all surprised at his size, considering that you'd seen it already. But to be up close nearly had you drooling, wanting to be seated on him and bounced with fervour.

You moved closer to him as your hands slowly moved towards him, not stopping you, you had motioned to remove his cock from his sweatpants, awaiting to be woken up from this dream.

Pulling the soft material down slowly, before the throbbing of your clit had you feeling impatient, you swiftly pulled his sweats down just enough so his cock sprang out and bumped against his abs. You looked at him once more to ensure he was fine with it, but for once, he wasn't looking at you, and that's when you knew he was gone.

Your hand looked fucking tiny when wrapped around his length, pumping slowly and occasionally swiping his slit that leaked precum giddily. He was so thick and warm, so big. You squeezed gently, and that had him grunt lowly, his usual demeanour starting to crumble. You went at a rather slow pace on purpose, trying to see just how patient this man was.

When you had pressed against a noticeable vein and traced it to his shaft, he let out another deep groan that had your panties beyond soaked. You were slowly mapping out his sensitive spots, holding his large cock in your smaller hand and pumping him at a quicker pace. You hadn't even noticed his own larger hand forcing your thighs apart and brushing against your clothed clit, forcing a whimper from you.

He easily moved your panties aside, shoving his fingers deep inside of you while you had continued to stroke his cock, your other hand making itself useful and assisting yourself with the task at hand.

He pulled you into his lap, your now bare cunt dangerously close to his dick. Your body just wanting to sink down on him and chase your own high.

You leaned closer to him, using his wide frame as something to rest on. You whimpered lowly as he curled his fingers within your contracting heat, his other hand groping at the curve of your ass.

You continued to stroke his cock, your hand going faster without you even realising it, your thoughts clouded by the massive digits that were ruining your insides. Something that you had been yearning for, and oh, it was so much better than what you could've imagined it to be.

"I'm so close," You whined, grinding your hips against his open palm, your slick making a mess on Ghost. He slapped your ass in response, the stinging sensation making you hug him closer to you as you absentmindedly stopped pleasuring him, lost in your own quite selfishly.

Without a single word, he moved you above his length and pushed in, your eyes meeting his steel gaze as your back arched, a high pitched moan dying in your throat. He forced you down, inch by agonising inch, splitting you open, the stretch painful but so fucking good.

Finally feeling him bottom out inside of you, he barely had you speared atop him for a second before he set a brutal pace, moving you up and down like you weighed nothing. You moaned and babbled out to him, your thoughts melting into nothing as you heard his own low and deep sounds, causing you to squeeze him tightly inside of you.

"Couldn't even treat me without thinking of me fucking you, huh?" He groaned in your ear, his large hand slapping your rear again.

You had truly forgotten how keen this man was, of course he had noticed your filthy thoughts and how the impacted your body. Your plush thighs squeezing together pitifully as you thought of this very moment.

"Mmhm..." You moaned, your gummy walls squeezing his girth. You were able to feel every single vein drag against your velvety insides, getting you intoxicated off of his dick alone.

"Can't even form a single sentence," He grunted, giving your ass another rough smack as you moaned in response, your hands clawing at his broad back, feeling his muscles twitch in response to the slight sting you inflicted on him.

"Fucked you dumb, look at you, you're a fuckin' mess." You nodded dumbly, your hips meeting his own thrusts as you bounced on top of him, his cock shoved deep inside of you, pushing against your cervix as you were stuffed to the absolute brim. Your eyes screwed shut as you cried out his name, never in your life would you have thought you'd be moaning 'Ghost'. But the man was undoubtably the best fuck you ever had.

You whimpered as you felt his cock drag against that spot inside of you that made you see searing stars. Your toes curled as your arms wrapped around Ghost's massive frame, cunt clamping down on his length tightly as you bit back a scream, that knot inside of you finally unraveling as you hit your high, your slick coating his cock and his as well as your thighs.

He assisted you in riding out your high, bouncing you on him at a quicker pace, the embarrassing sound of your greedy pussy sucking him back in flooding the room. Your overshot nerves protesting as your pants had turned into whines, begging him to slow down, or to be more gentle.

How laughable.

"You aren't exactly in a position to make demands, love." He said, his voice low as his big hand groped and pinched the fleshy and soft skin of your ass. You moaned in response, losing the capability to form sentences long ago. Ghost continued to glide you over his thick and heavy cock, your cunt fluttering over his length sheathed inside of you.

You felt him twitch inside of you as you squeezed him tightly, your pants mixed with his groans filled the room. "Mm, you feel so fucking good, lieutenant.." You cried, struggling to ride him properly, thankful for his assistance.

You continued to mumble praises to him in a fake and saccharine tone, attempting to edge him with his orgasm. He groaned as he hurriedly pulled out of you, stroking himself to finish as he grunted deeply, ropes of his warm cum making a mess all over your exhausted body.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, small whimpers leaving you as his breathing was slightly uneven. His broad chest rising and falling quickly as you both basked in your respective orgasms.

You were the first to move, grabbing a clean towel from the material cabinet and cleaning yourself with it. You tossed a clean one to Ghost, who had caught it without looking.

"I didn't know you were such a slut."

"I could say the same to you, sir."

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #cod smut #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod mwii #fanfic #smut #cod mw2

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writingfool001 · 1 year

Text

Reader with Robotic Limb(s)

Author’s Note: I decided to replace Epel with Rook between the two requests. Also, by combination, I mean like one mechanical arm and leg. Again, I take reference from Edward Elric from FMA series who has one mechanical arm and leg.

Request: Yes by @lunarapple

hello! may i request another part of “reader with robotic limbs” but with epel, idia, and malleus instead? (btw i love your newt!mc works even though ive never seen fantastic beasts, although i may watch it sooner or later because of your newt!mc. 😊 have a good day!)

ah i just seen you already have wrote idia with mc with mechanical/robotic limbs 😅 so sorry, if its fine with you may i request idia to be replaced with rook or floyd? whichever you more feel comfortable writing, you can choose 😄

Pairing: Floyd, Rook, and Malleus x Gn! Reader

Warning: Fluff, Gn! Reader

Floyd (Arm)

When you told him that you couldn’t go swimming and just wanted to sit in the pool at least, he had a fit and would ask you why before pouting when you told him that you didn’t want to. He would continue to pester you about it until he pushed you in and you nearly drowned due to the weight. Let’s just say you ignored him for a while and Jade had to explain to his brother that metal was heavier in water. Yes, he did eventually apologize.

You can't tell me he wouldn't run around with the arm with you chasing him. He almost tore your arm off with his strength and learned how expensive your repairs are if you break the arm. On repair days, he would keep you company and nearly kill anyone who decided to have the audacity to pick on you. The only one who can tease you is him.

Rook (Combination

On the dark days, he holds you close and listens as well as reassure you if you want/need reassurance. I can see him tracing the indents/ designs on your hand. He would occasionally suggest switching to a lighter and waterproof design instead. He would doodle on your arm to give you tattoos.

I’m pretty sure he has a suspicion about you having mechanical limbs and would investigate quietly yet respectfully. He takes in some of the clues like your strength in your hand, not a fan of heat or swimming, and wearing clothing that covered. He is totally fine about all of it and wouldn’t judge you about it, just making sure you’re happy and taking care of yourself. When you would eventually show him, he would shower you with affection and love for you. You think he wouldn’t pick you up?

On the dark days when you’re feeling insecure, he would distract you from thinking badly about yourself. He will ignore your protests about you being too heavy due to your body modifications or such and carry you around like a happy couple, only if you're comfortable with it. He would serenade you and compliment you, you think you won’t get some love from him, and man were you wrong. He would also trace and doodle on your arm. He kisses where your limb and body meet when you two are alone, showing you love.

He has his bow ready to shoot anyone if they try to pick on you during repair days. If both limbs were getting repaired, he would make sure you’re comfortable and spend the day with you or keeps an eye on his phone in case you need him while he is out and about.

Malleus (Combination

He sensed something special about you and would mention it, but never push you to reveal it. He would continue to be curious and try to guess until you eventually showed him what it was. You would probably be sitting for a while, explaining how everything works as Malleus eagerly listens and stares at your limb in wonder. He would watch the metal shine in the moon night on your nightly walks.

There was a point where he offered an illusion spell to make them appear fleshy and there were two ways that it could go. If you decline, you told him that you would know it wasn’t real and have come to accept their presence, even on the bad days. He respects your decision and tells you the offer will always be there in case.

There have been a few occasions where he has broken your hand and would pay your mechanic to fix it. He eventually learns to not hold your hand too hard or keep an arm wrapped around you. On repair days, he would help and keep you company while your limb was getting fixed. He would either scare off anyone who tries to pick on you or watch you kick their asses with a cane. Another one to kiss where your arm and shoulder meet when you two are cuddling together.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x mc #twst floyd x reader #floyd leech x reader #twst floyd #floyd leech imagines #rook hunt x reader #twst rook #rook hunt x you #rook hunt #rook x reader #rook hunt imagines #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia headcanons #twisted wonderland malleus draconia #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus

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yorutsuki · 7 hours

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「 ✦ Boundless Experiments ✦ 」

Blade x Yandere! Reader

↳ You've been watching him intently—noting down all his moves and habits. You felt pity for the man, but maybe you could help him with the curse? All you need are some...experiments..

Warnings: Mentions of blood/gore. Obssession.

──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────

(This is such as a random fic.. 💀)

Blade, a mara struck stellaron hunter. Known to be ruthless and silent, with a silent wish for death.

Unfortunately, there’s a boundless curse he’s to endure; immortality.

You, being the lovely unknown significant other, wanted to test those limits for him. Just how far can those invisible bounds be held until it breaks?

Here Blade was, chained and strapped to a metal table, his limbs held in place with reinforced iron—them spread wide, just perfectly for the future experiments you’d conduct.

“Now Bladie~ “, you teased him with the nickname, specialized by Kafka. You watched as he turned to you with a glare.

“During this procedure, I’ll need you to hold tight alright?” You gave him a look of empathy and comfort. But you both knew too well that behind those eyes, lays a sadistic demon, waiting for it’s time.

You chuckled as you made your way over to a table across from the chair before grinning to yourself.

Blades eyes furrowed in uncertainty as you waltzed your way back towards him, a wide sadistic smile plastered on your face as you held something behind your back.

“Now dear, I need you to hold still, or this will be much more painful than it needs to be.” You smiled, watching his face contort into one of terror, with a smile as you showed him a long rustic saw.

Your excitement bursted and rose as you watched the terrified man squirm around against his restraints, trying his best to escape—to get away from what’s coming.

“Hehe.. you won’t die, you can’t anyways,” you joked, smiling manically, bringing the saws blades towards his exposed arm as he writhed uselessly.

You were thankful for the small gag you had on him, as it saved your ears the pain of screams. In honesty, you didn't mind as it was like music to your ears though you needed the focus you could get.

…

Many hours later, you had finally finished your experiments-looking at the scattered limbs, neatly placed in front of you.

You were coated from head to toe in fresh, warm blood. Though, it wasn't yours, oh no. But you didn't mind, it actually comforted you in a way. You couldn't tell why but, it made you feel...closer to Blade—apart of him in a way.

Looking down, you nodded in satisfactory. During your experiments you had collected a arm, a finger and an ear. You wanted to be scarce with your fleshy resource incase your hypothesis was wrong.

You turned back to the man, frowning at his state. His hair was slightly disheveled, his chest rising every so often in rigged patterns. But what stood out, were the pools of blood near and on him.

Aeons did he look beautiful...

Unfortunately, Blade had passed out due to blood loss during your 3rd experiment.

“Boo..what a bummer.” You rolled your eyes, though your frown quickly turned into a lovingly obsessed grin as you caressed his cheek with the back of your hand softly, some blood getting smeared but you didn't mind.

How could you stay mad at him? Your precious? He let you conduct those experiments on him, and he didn’t even get mad at you for it-well albeit he couldn’t say anything, but that’s not the point. If he really hated you, he’d find a way to say it, no?

You giggled like a teenager stalking their crush.

“Just a few more, then we can get to the good stuff~” you smiled wildly, as it progressively turned into a manic grin—your thoughts wondered to future experiments.

#Blade #yandere blade #x reader #scenerios #oneshot #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #honaki star rail #hsr #blade hsr #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x gender neutral reader #blade x yandere #Yandere #yandere reader #crack fic

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hamsamwich23 · 1 year

Text

Handeemuse Au one shot (Commission for @snailstrailz !)

Words: 1,519

⚠️Content warning: the following one shot contains some themes of self harm⚠️

Both the OC Grace and the HandeeMuse Au are owned by the customer!! Check out their au blog @handeemuse !

Weird things always happened around Handeemen HQ.

Weird things that normally ranged from simple or minor inconveniences, to situations that required immediate attention.

People tended to get stressed quite easily in this place when it came to anything out of the ordinary. Which was understandable.

Especially after.. A certain event that had taken place here.

An event caused by none other than Grace’s own cousin.

Owen Gubberson.

A while ago, Owen had spent a HUGE amount of money on something. The money had been taken out of the budget for his own tv show, leaving him and everyone else almost bankrupt. This issue was..resolved, however many were understandably upset about what had happened.

And what exactly had Owen spent so much money on? Something for the show? No. In fact, Owen had taken all of that money to purchase a BOOk…a single book, from an anonymous seller that Owen never revealed the name of. He claimed it was special when he was confronted. With this book, he said, he would change peoples lives forever…

And technically, he was right.

But not in the way people were thinking.

He had effectively changed the lives…of the puppets he had created for this whole show…by giving them life in the first place. Somehow he had actually managed to use this book to give life…to his puppets.

Freaky

Of course this had all happened way before she began working alongside her younger cousin. They were already alive and well adjusted by the time Grace was hired.

Her relationship with these little puppets was….decent. Sort of.

It was definitely complicated.Especially considering the fact that Mortimer didn’t seem too fond of her…or..recent events with…

Regardless of the situations with these puppets, Grace was always able to do her job here without any issues. There was no problem she couldn’t handle…

Until now..

It had started as a tingling feeling in both of her arms. As if they had fallen asleep. It would happen every morning upon waking up, And she would brush it off since it would normally stop after a few minutes. Sure, it was weird that it had been happening every day, but she just assumed it had to do with the way she was sleeping.

Today..the feeling was lasting..much longer. It didn’t stop after she woke up. It didn’t stop until she was halfway into her work shift. Now she was concerned.

So she finally decided to check what was wrong.

She waited until it was time for her break, and went into a decently clean storage room. She worried that she had somehow injured herself while at either work or home…She looked down to check her hands first for any signs of numbness or bruising..

And she was horrified by what she saw.

She wasn’t injured at all. Her hands though…

They were WOODEN.

Both of her hands were wooden. Wooden and cold instead of warm and fleshy, like they should be. Wooden joints were visible when she bent her fingers..They looked just like the hands on a doll…or…a…

Puppet.

A fucking puppet

Just like the four puppets she saw every day in this old warehouse..

She removed her jacket, trembling. She was angry. Worried. Scared.

Was this some sort of fucked up prank? Was she seeing things? There was no way this was real…there was no, fucking way.

She checked her arms.. And she was just as horrified as before.

Her right arm was starting to turn wooden. It was already well past her wrist and reaching up towards her elbow. Her left arm was already wooden past the elbow and was now going for her shoulder.

She grabbed onto her wooden elbow and squeezed it harshly. It hurt, just like it normally would..But it was definitely hard wood. And yet she could still feel it when she squeezed at it or attempted to pinch herself. It was like any HUMANS arm, there was still a nervous system that was affected..But this…

This was not human…

She..was not.. Human… No

No, No, No no no.

This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t, it could not…

“FUCKING HELL”

She raised her arm up, curling her wooden fingers into a ball, and SLAMMED her fist into the wall of the storage room, soon yanking her hand away, hissing in pain and holding onto her wooden knuckles. It hurt badly. But it didn’t even make a dent in the wood.

Her legs shook as she slid down onto the floor. She stared down at her trembling hands.

This…this was wrong This was so wrong..

She didn’t like this, she didn’t want this.

Something had to have happened. There was no way in hell that this was just some sort of coincidence or prank.

But who…or what…would do this?

A knock on the door pulled her away from her thoughts. Someone was here.

They probably heard her yelling…great. Just great. “Who is it”

“Grace! Hi!” A strong, familiar voice spoke from the other side of the door. Very familiar.

“it’s..It’s me, Nick Nack”

…Nick

One of the four puppets that were brought to life by Owen…He and Grace were rather close. However, neither of them had said a word to each other as of recently.

Not since Nick had called her his muse..

“I know you’re..probably still mad at at me for the uhm…the last time we talked, but I heard you yelling and then I heard banging and I just…Are you alright?”

“...” “...May I come in? If you don’t mind, I just, want to make sure you’re okay…! Or I can get Daisy if you need her! Just…Please answer me.”

“...”

She was hesitant to let him in.

She didn’t know if right now was the best time to face Nick again…But at the same time…Maybe he knew what was going on.

Maybe he knew something she didn’t.

“...The door is open. Come in”

She stared down at the ground below as the door creaked open. And now, Nick was seated down beside her. Even while they were both seated Grace towered over the small puppet.

“Grace..Whats wrong?”

Grace sighed, slowly raising her hands, showing Nick the apparent puppification, how her arms were slowly becoming more and more wooden….

Nick looked as horrified as Grace had before.

“My goodness! What in the world is this?!”

“...You don’t know what this is, do you?”

“Heavens, no! This is..I’ve never seen anything like this before. This looks like the work of some sort of spell..or a curse..”

“How is that possible, Nick? Doesn’t Owen have that spell book under control?”

“He does! He doesn’t touch it anymore, he just wanted to use it ti bring us too life!! And I haven’t got a clue as to who else would do such a thing! The only other person who can cast spells in this place is..”

Nick froze. He stopped talking completely as he turned his head and glared at…something? Behind them.

“Nick…what the fuck is going on?”

Nick Nack grit his wooden teeth and looked back at Grace. “I…I don’t know. But I’m going to find out”

“Do you know who did this? I need to know, Nick. I need to know right now.”

“I can’t be sure but..I just…Grace, grace..”

He sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder, looking up at her with a soft gaze. “I know you’re upset about this, I am too. Because this shouldn’t be happening to you. But I need you to trust me on this when I say I’ll handle this. I will get to the bottom of this situation, and I’ll make sure that whoever did this to you makes things right.”

Grace looked down at him and let out a heavy sigh, removing his hand and getting herself off of the ground. “I sure HOPE so…I don’t really want to be a puppet, Nick. No offense but it’s..really not going to work out for me. I’m not supposed to be like this”

“I know..”

He shook his head as he stood up from the floor.

“We should really get out of here for now..Owen will notice that we’re both missing if we stay for too long.”

“Right..yeah….Thank you, Nick”

“It’s not a problem! Now, If you will EXCUSE ME, I need to have a TALK, with someone” he hummed loudly in a…deceptively cheery tune. “I will see you later..Just take it easy for now.”

With that, Nick bowed his head before marching right out the door. His hands were balled up into fists…It was…a little frightening. Something had to be going on…But what?

Grace picked her jacket up off of the floor and put it back on. She huffed softly before glancing back at where Nick Nack had been glaring before…She expected to see something of importance….But there was nothing important there. Just an old, worn out poster of the shows main star. Mortimer handee himself… She knew Mortimer disliked her. But he wouldn’t curse her with some oddball spell…

would he?

#hello puppets #hello puppets midnight show #hello puppets midnightshow #handeemuse au #hello puppets au #oc x canon #writblr #writing commissions #hello puppets nick nack #tw self harm #im alive

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writtenwyrm · 1 year

Text

The Ascension

A Slay the Spire Story, Part 33

All Parts

cw: abuse

Anger

“Great One, the Watcher envoy is here!”

I shifted on my perch, already bored. On my righthand side, my Chosen stood stock-still, as they always did. The messenger bowed before us, relaying the news.

“Show them in.” My Chosen announced,

Standing tall and straight, I let my presence fill the room. The doors opened, and light flooded in. The room glowed, a spectacular, shimmering blue, as the light reflected off my feathers.

The envoy walked in, precise in every step, like toy soldiers. They wore a rich purple, and carried golden staffs, and every hair and sash was perfectly in place.

“Greetings, Great Phoenix.” The lead Watcher called. “We have come to make our Judgemnt, as is done every year. We thank you for your hospitality.”

“We welcome you.” My Chosen spoke, and I stayed silent, as was customary. “The Watchers are always welcome in the Spire, as you know. We can only hope that our new customs bring much to the…”

Their voices slowly faded from my mind as they continued to talk, back and forth, polite and monotone. I didn’t truly need to do much, so I allowed my mind to wander, observing the half-dozen strangers standing in my hall.

They were all blind, weren’t they? I’d heard that each new initiate spent two weeks staring directly at the sun in order to prepare them, and their eyes were pale and bleached. But they still tracked me as if they could see. And they stood so stiffly, too, without the slightest indication of soreness or boredom as the voices droned on.

What would it be like, to be one of them? I closed my eyes, shutting out the world around me—only briefly, I promised myself—and let myself imagine what the world would be like if I had been born among the Watchers, instead of where I was now.

There were sudden gasps all around me, and I opened my eyes in a hurry.

I couldn’t see. Except… I could, in a way. I could feel the world around me, sense the stone beneath my bare, fleshy feet. I could see the minds of those around me, too, albeit only faintly. Shock, awe, fear…

And I could practically taste the disapproval radiating from my Chosen. That was a more familiar feeling, and I knew what it meant.

I’d done something wrong again.

—

“You may go. Your God wishes to be alone.” My Chosen dismissed the guards, now that the great hall was empty, the Watchers gone on their way. Obediently, the blue-steel-clad guards tromped out of the room, and the doors closed behind them.

We waited in silence, for a few long minutes. I stared at the far wall, trying not to shuffle my wings and show my nervousness. But eventually, the emptiness of the room became too much, and the words burst from my mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

“We will need to apologize for your… unseemly behavior. We are indeed fortunate that they stayed to finish their judgment of the Spire.” They sighed, long and weary, and my skin prickled. “Pray, my God, what would you consider a proper apology for a great and powerful being such as yourself to bestow upon them?”

I did not look down, unwilling to meet their eyes. “…Perhaps a bouquet of sapphire feathers?” I ventured, hopefully.

“For an embassy of Watcher disciples? Perhaps that would be prudent.”

For a moment, I let myself believe that would be all of it.

“And a talon.”

I flinched, and my toes curled in automatically, scraping the stone beneath my feet with razor-edged claws.

“Yes, I think that will do. The Watchers appreciate practical gifts such as that. I would almost suggest an offering of an eye, but, ah, that may come off as a mockery of their condition.”

Their arms, tucked so neatly within their sleeves, emerged smoothly, revealing the short blade held in one hand. They wiped the edge with a delicate cloth as they approached, and the practical steel gleamed in the light. “Now, let us ready the gift.”

I closed my eyes, and prepared for the pain.

—

I woke to the whirring sound of rolling machines. I scrambled to my feet, feeling for my sword, the hilt forming comfortingly to my hand.

Two strange god-machines rolled down the hallway, a mere twenty yards away. They sat upon either side of a traveling sphere on the wall, glowing faintly from within. They followed with dedication, keeping perfect pace. Like guards.

And only valuable things required guards.

Still shaking off the shackles of sleep, I stepped forward. They paid me no mind, unreactive to my presence. Hopeful, I took a swing at the glass-like surface of the sphere. It shattered like glass, and a thick blue liquid gushed onto the ground.

Immediately, they whirled on me.

What did you think was going to happen? Lucirron scorned in my mind. The dreadful things would hardly be guards if they didn’t fight to protect their charge.

I ignored him, preparing for battle instead. As they bubbled, internal fluids spinning and glowing, I stoked my own inner flame,

Then I threw my sword at them.

It bounced off the shell, but the angle and momentum meant it ricocheted between the two, back and forth, until I dove between them and grabbed it by the hilt, retrieving my weapon.

Finally I drew on the essence of my armor, and for a brief moment I became impervious. It was only a heartbeat, but that was enough time for the double streams of boiling liquid to strike my skin and splash off, leaving me untouched.

Then the protection fell away, and I was left standing in a column of superheated steam. The air wavered in front of my eyes, and I could hear the liquid sizzling under my boots.

I moved toward the foremost orb, scanning it for weaknesses, and finding one in the way it followed me. A quick slide to the left, and I had open access to its glass belly, which I immediately pummeled with quick, strong blows. The glass cracked, and the creature rolled away, spewing flame wildly as it went. The air increased even more in temperature, somehow.

The second orb turned toward me, and I could see it’s liquid insides roiling like a volcano. I had to kill it quickly, but by this point I felt like I understood the pain of an egg on the pan, my edges crisping. Burns covered my body, making it hard to think, hard to act.

Or at least, it would have once.

I spoke the Oath, and Lucirron howled his fury in my head. For I spoke it only quietly, and he hated how I had learned to warp his power.

Sacrifice

to destroy for a cause.

But who was to say what I had to offer? There was strength in giving up my blood, my time, in making myself vulnerable for the sake of a greater reward.

Instead, I offered up the pain and the wounds and the burns on my skin. I gave it all away, and in turn I felt my body strengthen itself in preparation for—

I caught the stream of liquid fire on the edge of my blade, and managed to turn it harmlessly to the side.

Refreshed from my second wind, the distracting pain gone, I threw myself back into the fight.

—

The small steel top spun on my fingertip, showing no sign of slowing down. It was hard to imagine it being worth the fight I’d just had to retrieve it, but perhaps it would show its power in a crucial moment and save me. Or maybe I would forget it in my pocket along with the darkstone necklace I’d scrounged off the gremlin leader a few days ago, back when I’d still been in the City.

Still, it was intriguing how it spun and spun after I’d twirled it, with no sign of stopping. If I let it, perhaps it would burn a hole in my fingertip.

You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A little more pain to fuel your conquest?

Lucirron’s voice murmured softly in my ear. I almost pitied him, nowadays. His attempts to goad me were getting weaker and more desperate, but that only made them easier to ignore. Instead of responding, I tucked the top away in my bag and got to work building a fire.

I didn’t need a flint and steel to start the tinder. Instead, I lifted my mask, then focused on my leg. A heavy bandage showed the still-painful result of my encounter with the boulder. The golden idol had been worth it in the end, but somehow I’d never gotten around to letting it heal more than superficially. The injury remained, slowing me down just the smallest fraction. Most of the time, I didn’t even notice, but once or twice it had tripped me up at a critical time.

Now, I silently invoked the Oath, and the pain from the injury surged up through my body. It escaped from my mouth in the form of a burst of flame, and for a moment the cavern was lit with a flash of incadencent fire.

Then it settled back down into a calm, crackling blaze, the dry bones I used in place of wood catching easily. I lowered the mask back into place.

Lucirron wailed his frustration somewhere in the back of my mind. He hated how I used his power, how I’d bent it to my will. Truly, it felt more like my power than his, now. It subsumed my bones and gave me strength, fueled my hunger, healed me.

I’d taken his power and made it my own, and now…

Lucirron was nothing more than a vengeful voice in my head. Like the chirping of a cricket scorned, buried in the sounds of the night.

So like a thorn from my finger, I plucked him out and tossed him into the fire, and let him burn bright and brief, until he was gone.

My mind was quiet, for the first time that I could remember. Gloriously, peacefully, silent.

I didn’t need him to guide my fury anymore. I could decide for myself.

I turned over on the ground and lay my head on my pack, closing my eyes. The warmth of the fire crackled at my back, and the burning of a new emotion simmered in my blood.

Contentment.

—

I woke, again, to the whirring sound of rolling machines. I scrambled to my feet, feeling for my sword—no, my staff. Another dream. A dream within a dream? Which was I, the Watcher, or the Ironclad? Or something else completely? Who had that person been, the one the Chosen had…

I shuddered, the strange feeling of dread rushing over me like a wave. There had been Watchers there, like me, except… I hadn’t been one of them.

I didn’t have much time to think about it, as my instincts guided me to hide behind a nearby set of vaguely hip-shaped rocks while the whirring got closer.

Just as in my dream, two of the fiery orbs rolled down the corridor, escorting a boil of stone that flowed down the wall like a bubble on the river.

What were they doing? There was a treasure of some sort in there, but why were they guarding it? Where were they taking it?

There was someone I could ask—in a fashion—who could understand these unusual machines. Carefully, so as not to spook them, I reached into my satchel and pressed my fingers to the cool surface of the prism.

[QUERY] PURPOSE of the MECHANICAL CREATURES

[ANALYSIS] ORB WALKERS are ESCORTING ERRONEOUS RELICS to the CITY

[ANALYSIS] ORB WALKERS are DISTRIBUTING POWER to RESTORE BALANCE

[DEFINE] BALANCE

[ERROR] BALANCE NOT FOUND

[DEFINE] BALANCE

[ERROR] BALANCE NOT FOUND

[ERROR] RECURSIVE LOOP DETECTED

I pulled out quickly, before the muffled terror could grow too strong. It was getting easier to slip from one set of memories to the next, flitting between the Defect and the Watcher with only a little bit of confusion during the transition.

That worried me, but I didn’t have time to think about it. The orb walkers were getting away.

I never had time to think, these past days.

I hefted my staff and charged.

—-

I rolled the colorful gambling chip over my fingers, thinking about the spinning top the Ironclad had held in my dream. The token danced over my fingers, gleaming in the firelight. I’d been taught the trick a long time ago, by…

By someone. A tutor? A friend? I couldn’t remember their voice, or their name.

Still the chip danced, irregardless of my broken memories.

My new memories tickled at me, of the Ironclad, of discarding his whispering voice of fury. It seemed familiar to something I’d been experiencing recently.

Don’t be a fool. My own malicious companions hissed in my mind. You’re seeing connections that aren’t there.

Two keys. One blue, one green. One from the Silent, the other… the Defect? I stared at the flickering flames, turning the thought over in my head.

It was just a hunch. A guess, really, based entirely on my growing understanding of the way power and dreams and belief seemed to work in this shifting realm.

Just a hunch. But maybe that was enough to try.

I thrust my hand into the fire before I could change my mind.

The pain seared up my arm, but I pushed deeper, groping blindly for what I hoped would be there… and the sharp edges of the key dug into my fingers.

I grabbed it, yanking my hand free. My whole arm seared with pain, and I could feel the cutting edge of the crystal bite into my palm. I was worried, distantly, that I might have caused permanent damage.

But most of all, I felt the fury.

I thought I had known what anger really was. I utilized it every day, to fight and to push myself onward through otherwise impossible odds. But my Wrath stance was just a tamed tool, a way for me to channel my emotions and force a combat state.

This was something else.

I pulled my hand to my chest, clutching the key. I wanted to kill something. Not just to protect myself, not just to fight and win, but to fulfill some sense of satisfaction deep in my gut.

I fought it. I had been expecting another voice, perhaps even Lucirron, shouting in my mind. But this was more primal than that, more ancient than an Ancient.

Calm, my amulet hummed to me, doing it’s best. But it was like a bucket of water against the sun-baked sands of the desert, evaporating in the vast, dreadful feeling.

How had he handled it? How could he have possibly kept this under control? How any one person could contain this much hatred was beyond me, but my dreams of him… I clutched to those, the memories of the Ironclad.

He hadn’t fought back. There was no fighting with an emotion like this. It just burned brighter, fueled by the fear.

In fact… I had the tools I needed already.

I couldn’t force myself to sit down and meditate, however. My knees just wouldn’t bend that far, not with this much fire in my bones.

So instead I scooped up my staff, and attacked the walls.

I didn’t often feel like shouting when I fought, but now I could hardly keep it down. I let it loose, bellowing every profanity I knew. The stone bones shattered under my blows. Ribs, spines, unidentified and miscellaneous bone-like shapes, I struck and crushed and broke.

And while I did, I listened.

For a few minutes, or maybe hours, it was just endless, wordless anger. But my patience gave way soon enough to a voice. My voice, my thoughts.

I hate what this place has done to me. I hate what I’ve become. I hate how I’ve changed.

I felt oddly disconnected from the thoughts, sunken deep into the satisfying crunch of breaking stone. But practice had given me the ability to spot the small thoughts as they started to crop up.

And they were my thoughts. The emotion, the pure and unadulterated anger, that was from the Ironclad. But it was only fuel for my mind to feed upon, and the fears were my own.

I’d been dutiful and faithful, only a few weeks ago. I would give anything to go back to that feeling of truth and confidence that I’d lost.

Except… it hasn’t truly been confidence, had it? Just ignorance. Or hope, if I was being generous. Hope that someone knew what they were doing. That I, of all people, was on the correct path.

This place had changed me, and there was no correct path. The spire had beckoned me forward, and there was no going back.

Then change it back. I thought to myself, crushing a spur of stone. Shape the world as it has shaped you.

The Ironclad hadn’t learned to control his fury, I came to realize. Nothing in the world could hold back passion and pain that deep.

He had simply learned to guide it.

My body felt invigorated, and adrenaline coursed through my veins. With renewed purpose, I packed my bag, carefully sorting each of the many relics I’d collected along the way. I gave the Akabeko a little pat on the head.

Then I wrapped myself in the various tools I’d collected, the potion belt slung over my shoulder and the dark chain knotted around my waist.

I took a minute to collect myself, be sure I had everything. Once I was satisfied, I began walking, away from the campfire. It didn’t matter which direction I went, at this point. I would end up where I needed to go, one way or another.

It was time to find what I’d been looking for.

#The Ascension #Slay The Spire #The Watcher #The Ironclad #fic #Part 33

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hellaverse-critical-confessions · 9 months

Note

Hey what about these demons?

They are my favs

I would show more but tumblr does not allow

Oh yeah, absolutely! I was gonna go over the sea critter demons in subsequent posts... but I guess I could leave some thoughts here-

I have no idea what these two are but they're Very Silly. The big ole ruffles and hats/sleeves contrasting their skeletal bodies give them a fun look. Guessing they're from Greed, since it's also green and circus themed? But they don't resemble any kind of hellborn demon we know, nor are they sinners, since those can't access other rings. I think that means there are a lot more local species in Hell than we've been shown! (Still waiting to see those "possessors" whose existence was suggested on the mafia sharks ref sheet. There's also "dealmakers", I think? We're on to season two and stuff like this is still super unclear. Pretty sad.)

This is Limón and I love him. He looks so chill. The type of guy you'd smoke weed with. You can observe another case of "compulsively giving characters chokers" syndrome but he makes it work. And I like his hairstyle too. In conclusion, he's a cutie.

I just can't understand the people simping over Chaz when this dude is literally right here. I mean, c'mon.

(My only gripe is the fleshy gap around his arm like a chewed apple core. It makes him look... zombie-like? Bones occasionally sticking out of shark demons is one thing, but this makes him appear less demonic and more undead. Also raises all sorts of questions.)

Fella on the right is Turkoyz and they're nonbinary! Ain't that nice representation. Especially when it's a background character you'll miss entirely if you blink at the wrong time and has no in-episode indication of their identity whatsoever.

...Okay, that was salty. I just feel like, for a queer show, they could use to have at least one openly nonbinary character.

But I like their design. Funky stripes and color scheme. Nice tank top and collar. As for the jellyfish, they're cool and delightfully creature-like, but there happens to be another jellyfish demon that I prefer...

I just think she's adorable. The flower is... a bit weird, with the pentagram detail (it's small, yet intricate, which makes it stand out amidst the otherwise broad and simple shapes), but she's just an armless girlie in a big ole ball of jelly, with tiny horns. Which is so real of her. I also like the purple.

Ah, Alessio. The guy everyone and their grandmother ships with Crimson. I think he's alright. Colors are alright, shapes are alright. (The red was inevitable.) Dude's got neck for days, too, which makes him stand out.

Took me way too long to realize that the tapeworm protrusions on his tail are actually a hook lodged into it. Distracted me for a hot moment, but I suppose it's fine.

Stu also has the red. I'm a bit "meh" on that particular red with his pinkish skin, but I do appreciate him overall. He's a succubus hybrid, which is neat. However he should NOT have hair. It looks so weird. Let him be bald.

Cool clowns! I like their desaturated outfits. First one is very shaped with the curves vs triangles. I worry for the second one, though... where are your feet?!

And Stella's rich asshole friends. Felt compelled to not separate the pair, partly because I like the lady's curves (she's not big, but just about the closest we'll get) and the sort of Cleopatra hairdo she has going on. In any case she's more refined looking than the guy, who's quite scruffy and gangly, but fun nonetheless. (Not as fun to animate, I imagine, with that many individual feathers... good thing he only gets a handful of shots to his name.)

#confession #?#more like #asks answered #I have fun with these can you tell #helluva boss

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ambrosia-win3 · 10 months

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continued from here. @viviskull

Almost instantaneous, this spirit practically felt himself nearly recoil the moment he heard Riley’s fearful voice squeak out into his ears. His frame grows rigid, his quick alarm being swift to drown out the hard twinge of his heart skipping a beat as a surge of adrenaline forces him to rise from the warmth of his companion’s exposed stomach. On his bed, where they had hastily yet clumsily half-undressed themselves in between their frantic kisses, Lewis gazed down upon his beloved as he loomed over her with a shallow, heated breath; her fishnetted legs still clinging onto his hips with lingering uncertainty. Hot, nearly steaming off his body he felt so hot, the fleshy tones of his mortal mask held a dark, rosy tint to his cheeks. Yet so acutely aware of how small his companion had been, he couldn’t help the retractive impulse of letting his hands (that once wandered, itching to explore every inch of his partner’s skin, and circled about Riley’s back) fall to her hips then. Something more gentle, more smaller. He knew how his figure often felt imposing, and for fear he felt like he did something wrong, too.

His mattress gives a protesting squeak as he shifts his weight back to not incidentally trap them in their shared spot. Oh, underneath the comforting light of his pink lampshade, Riley looked so small, frail in his arms; something worth protecting… Yet someone who felt hesitant in his presence now. In his eyes, she had been so precious to him, so near and dear to his dear heart, he was barely restraining to keep so many of his desires of pulling his head back under; to lose his head when his melting heart wanted so desperately to show her how much they meant him, to spoil them in their entirety.

But right now, his needs had to be on the backburner, her heart took priority over his. His heart skipped another beat, it was twinging with pain straining ache. Something told him this wasn’t something he could take lightly, if he’d known the signs, then.

“.. W-We can.. can stop and sit this out if it feels too much, Riley.” He sputters out. “This.. This is a bit much after just getting home, isn’t it?”

Riley had never expected it to get this far. It had started with innocent flirting on their night out; a joke here, a teasing gesture there, and a few soft whispers to his ear when no one was looking. For all her jests, she hadn't expected to end up pinned against Lewis' bed, her dress pushed down to pool around her waist, his shirt tossed somewhere across the room and gasping for air between desperate kisses. Her thighs pressed in close around his waist in an attempt to keep him closer, not that she needed to. A building heat had begun to surround them, closing in and almost suffocating. So much, but so good, feeling his touch on her marred skin so loving and passionate.

Hands roaming up her back towards her bra clasps, pushing her dress slowly further down-

Alarm bells blaring in her head- so much, too much-

The words come tumbling from her lips before she even realizes.

"It's too soon, I'm not ready."

Instantly his hands froze before falling to gently rest on her hips, shifting back as to not cage her in completely. Riley shuddered, forcing her breaths to slow down, to steady herself before she burst into a panic. Her eyes flitted over his form, from his chest up to his mortal mask bathed in soft pink hues. The hesitant look in his eyes should have been enough to soothe her nerves, yet her racing pulse just wouldn't slow. He stopped, she loves him and she trusts him why is she still freaking out about this? She wanted this- want him so badly, she knew she was finally in a place to be ready for it but she still couldn't get over her.

She felt as small as she looked compared to his monstrous stature, still looking like the most tempting sin incarnate. It wasn't as if he could help it, no matter what he did he was bound to tower over her, but in the moment it wasn't much help. With even the slightest shift as she pushed herself up, the bed squeaked and screeched in the most painful way to her ears. She reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face, her hand noticeably trembling.

She gave him the most apologetic look she could muster. "I- I'm sorry, Lew- I-I want this, really I do I just- god this is so stupid-" She sighed, her head now hung in shame as she held her hands over her eyes. "I thought- I thought I was over this by now fuck-"

#« ♡ ʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ɢᴏ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅ ♡ » ic #« ♡ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ʟᴜᴄᴋ ♡ » riley #« ♠ ᴇɴᴛᴀɴɢʟᴇᴅ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅs ᴏғ ғᴀᴛᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴏᴜʀ ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ♠ » rp thread #« ♡ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ɢᴏ ᴘʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ - ɪ'ᴍ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ ♡ » riley x lewis #viviskull #// suggestive

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pyroclaststan · 2 years

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The Owl Incident

CW: violence, blood, depersonalisation, trauma

Again.

Again you’d merely been standing there, doing nothing you weren’t supposed to do yet punishment came for you anyway.

A sharp pain, far too familiar, blooms in the centre of your face: once again, she has sought to make an example out of you.

Her words are drowning but she’s taunting you, dragging you down before the staff about a mother they all replaced with dishes and machines. Always, she hits the marks they built in; always, she seeks to hurt you for nothing you have done.

Once again your mouth fills with blood, your teeth loose and free, the light all wrong—you are all wrong. You rebound off the concrete wall like a clash of cymbals, you reach out to the only minds as angry as yours, your world is darkening and expanding at the same time you—

You take it on your feet, as you always do, your head and bent back the only signs that you received your punishment at all. Rage sits white hot in your broken mouth, reeling across your broken mind like a wild fire, and you feel the burning need to end up with broken knuckles. Breaths come short, ragged, panting; air is hard to filter in through your mask. The churning adrenaline telling you to dig your claws and teeth as deep into flesh as they will go—to hurt, to hunt, to rip, to tear, to scream for pack and devour until you’ve had your fill

You will not be made an example of again; you will not be forced to bear the weight of the sin of being made. She will not get the second strike—you will not fail your training; you will survive, again and again. You will mould and break yourself as many times as it takes to crawl from the grave you were born to half-buried.

You will rend the prey that repeatedly hurts you: you will show the fleshy creature that what is made can be unmade.

This form is burdensome; awkward as you stumble forward, iron tongue leaving you disoriented as your two minds fight over who is in charge and refuse to settle down and be one. No claws digging into hard earth, no long teeth with which to bear your anger. Your lungs fill with air and you push with all your might to tackle your prey, to find purchase in its soft, flesh. Rabbit breaths beneath you spur you on; you remember taste and texture and the crumbling shifting sounds of sand and concrete. The howling in the night as all of your feet pounded through the grounds with only pack mind to guide you, to keep your form stumbling as it threatened collapse.

She wants to take you back, she’s going to turn you in, she’s hunting you, she wants to hurt you, she wants you gone, unmade, you boil in her blood as she does in yours, you

You are not bite the prey bite she’s made of you BITE

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The ringing in your ears reaches a peak note before it snaps, and the muted sounds around you return in a chorus of yells and voices.

You’re being held back by a sea of arms but none of them sink the needle into your flesh, the taser to your skin, the pills to your tongue. Your hands have a pleasing grip in fabric and against flesh, fingers surely bruising flesh with the force of you. A hand struggles to push away your face as you’d leaned in so close, ever closer to sink in your teeth; saved by the thick fabric that hides the fangs you surely bear. The other hand is braced against your shoulder as if it had a chance to keep the weight of you off, as if you hadn’t already pinned her as quick as she struck you.

This isn’t her. This one is weak; weaker. No pistons and metal, no static and presence, just… human. Like you are underneath the cloud that swarms you, the minds you can’t seem to forget, the memories that stain you deeper than the tattoos.

With a heavy, painful heave you’re lifted off of a body you’ve never feared and no longer care to know. The arms that wrap around your arms and torso and neck and bring voices closer to your ears do little to make the rage ebb away, but you are far too busy flexing your hands to put away your claws to lash out again to use them. The restriction is nauseating but grounding; no metal, no static, just loud minds hammering on your walls.

Someone’s chest is at your back, rising and falling with your own and trying to bring you back down to match their own breaths. Someone is saying your false name like a chant, as if it would untie the knot that sits in your throat as your growls try to return to words.

She’s cursing, she’s screaming, she’s being held back but slipping free.

Her hand gets just a little too close and your mind slips again skin the little beast that nips at your heels

Your left arm frees itself and lashes out at her: not a claw this time, but a human limb, and your fist catches her jaw with an impact that delights you as much as it makes your knuckles ache. A safer bite; a human one—you’ve far more reach than she does.

She’s still going but she’s not a threat, not anymore—she is an enemy. A new guard for your bigger, citywide cell. Your face grows hotter at that. Even free someone seeks to punish you for presence alone. Humanity once again teaching you how little it carries of its own name.

The arms around you tighten a little more as you make small jolts for her. You swallow thickly, fishing out your words. Someone else’s words, once used against you, that fit you now.

“I-I-If you EVER, tou-touch my f-face again…. I’ll k-k-kill you. I promise y-you. I do-, I don—, I don’t care who’s there. I will kill you.”

They cannot see your tears nor hear them beneath your stutter: how badly you want to kill who you thought she was, how scared you are that you almost did. The two of you are dragged in opposite directions with no apologies spared, no forgiveness granted.

She will never put her hands on you again; she will never make you feel that way or take your control again.

#MC: Kingsley Chrysanta #fallen hero: rebirth #pre-Rebirth #FH:R #fh:r spoilers #Owl (Vigilante)#cw violence #Kingsley’s side of the historic punch; they are not a fan of the vigilante for very personal triggering reasons #the mischief scribbles

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memequeen92 · 2 years

Note

back again with another spingtap headcanon question (thank you for the food)- this time asking about physical sensation, just in general. Thoughts on if he can feel touch/pressure? or temperature? and if so, where's he most able to/sensitive to it?

*rubs my lil gremlin hands together* oh man this ones def gonna be long ty for ur services in jarring my brain for this anon ily - might get a lil gruesome at points but its Springtrap so probably expected

also nsfw bits at the very bottom because obviously I’m going to touch on that too >:)

He definitely has some small semblance of feeling pretty much most places - the reasoning for my headcanon for how he does so has to start with ‘how much of him is left in the first place and how did his Springlocking go’ so we’ll get back to the main question in a bit because first you have to understand the extent of the damage I like to imagine he has/how getting Springlocked would have looked in my mind.

Springlocking + the extend of damage/how much of him is left/etc:

I love love love love to make this man suffer in every way because he frankly deserves it - I figure that metal components for an animatronic being forcibly held back to allow a person inside would result in a very, very brutal death because of the sheer force of them being released into what is, essentially, their default position - I’m talking bones absolutely splintered into pieces - some bigger, some smaller, but they’re not surviving. You’re boneless now, minus a few splintered bits and pieces.

Same for the flesh/organs/meaty bits - he was probably struggling or twitching/generally erratic movement because of pain, and it’s why his insides look they way they do - like a bunch of long sausages just strung over bits of metal - because that’s what it is. Skin, Organs, maybe some cartilage - nerve endings too - all twisted up into long round strands and squeezed out through the spaces in the metal endoskeleton like a toothpaste tube.

William’s pain tolerance is also an important contributor I think:

I like to imagine he has a very high pain tolerance/threshold - he’s sadistic and revels in other peoples pain, and his own doesn’t usually bother him any more than a minor inconvenience would unless something is truly wrong, and even then he barely shows it - he’ll wince and grumble and slouch and maybe curse and groan a bit - but if he’s in any actual debilitating pain, bad enough for him to be screaming about - it’s bad. Like, Astronomically bad.

touch/pressure:

When it comes to someone touching the Springbonnie suit, he can feel it - just a bit though - his sense of feeling when it comes to say, someone putting a hand on his arm, is extremely dulled. If you do it particularly gently, he may not even feel it at all - if you pressed down a bit with some pressure though, he would be more likely to be able to tell that there’s contact happening.

Some parts of him are more sensitive in that respect - the suits ears/head for example because they’re closer to where his brain + nerve centres would have once been - he can feel light touches a bit better on his face/head/ears, and a little bit on his shoulders/torso.

With his hands and arms, you have to be a bit more firm for him to feel it, same with the legs - he doesn’t have much in the way of feeling in his feet though, since they were more exposed and the nerves there dulled much faster without the protection of the suit. It comes in handy when someone tries the age old trick of kicking his shins to make him drop them. (it never works out for them)

temperature:

In relation to the fleshy bits:

So to start with, he does still produce body heat of his own - but very, very little. There’s no real identifiable source of it and it doesn’t rise or fall at any point ever - he’s somewhere just above average room temperature, still warm but not so warm that it’s immediately noticeable or significant. He can also feel the effects of different temperatures - too cold and he starts feeling that cold burning you get in super cold temps - too hot and he starts feeling overheated and a little disoriented after a while.

He is a bit more sensitive to temperature changes too - he tends to prefer moderate-warm temperatures because they make him the least uncomfortable.

Warmth and cold on the fleshy bits of him would be generally uncomfortable I think - if it’s a solid object against those bits of him, it would feel sort of like a hot or cold pack directly on your skin (but worse) - if it were something like a warm or cold breeze, it would be more akin to opening the door to sweltering heat or freezing cold when you’re at a perfectly comfortable temperature. Uncomfortable most of the time, but painful under the right circumstances too.

In relation to the suit:

He doesn’t have as much of a sensation for temperature on the bits of him that aren’t fleshy, and it tends to be more pleasant for him to feel cold/warm sensations in that way. If he, for example, had someone sat on his lap - the bodyheat they radiated would be warm, but not uncomfortably so because the suit provides a cushion between the heat source and his remaining flesh - same with cold, it would be something more akin to when you wrap a thin towel around a cold or hot pack when he interacts with objects/items/people/etc that are cold or warm.

With temperature he’s pretty much most sensitive to it on the fleshy bits of him, it’s not much of an issue for him most of the time - he can generally adapt pretty well if it’s a bit warmer or colder than he’d like - he’ll just be a bit uncomfortable.

Pain (just in general):

He is always in some degree of pain, though it’s most often a dull sort of ache - it used to be worse at first, especially when he was first Springlocked - it absolutely paralyzed him for the longest time, but eventually, after enough time passed, he simply... got used to it - so much so that he isn’t even really bothered by it much anymore unless something makes it worse than usual.

For example - his fleshy bits sometimes get pinched in his joints and mechanisms, and it hurts like a bitch. He hates when it happens and it feels even worse than it would have pre-springlock because he’s probably just pinched some of his organs or maybe a nerve-ending too.

Generally, he won’t feel it too much if someone hits him with something or kicks him or throws a rock at him or anything unless they do so really really hard (or aim for the head/ears) - it’s the one benefit to being in so much agony all the time, lesser forms of pain simply don’t mean much anymore in comparison.

Pretty much the only way to 100% guaranteed get him in enough pain to drop you and get a chance to escape him... is to get a hit in directly in some of his fleshier bits - but - you’d better succeed in getting away if you do that because it will piss him off... really, really, badly. You will not get a second chance to do that, because he will rip off your limbs the first moment he has his hands on you again.

It’ll take him a few minutes to recover from the sudden burst of pain ofc, but once he does, that anger + adrenaline combo pretty much gets him through anything.

He recovers more quickly from being stabbed with sharp objects because... he is literally already impaled, twisted, and mangled by sharp metal - he’s built more of a tolerance for it than he has someone punching his guts as hard as they can.

NSFW bits

his dick tends to be warmer than the rest of him, but still less warm than average - it’s also more sensitive and is one of the few more normal looking parts of his body remaining, though he does have a bit of sporadic scarring along it - nothing excessive, but enough that it’s noticeable.

This is because the first time he got springlocked he then decided there should probably be fewer springlock mechanisms in the groin area to make it less terrible in case it happened again after he spent no less than 3 hours with doctors slowly extracting metal from his dick and balls alone before trying to repair an injury that can only be described as ‘partial circumcision via Springlock’ (*Circumcision isn’t as common in Britain as it is the US)

It took them so long because they wanted to minimize the damage/get it right (they succeeded) but it was the opposite of a good time and Willy refused to get in one again unless they changed the design so it wouldn’t possibly slice someone’s dick off if the failure was severe enough - priorities.

His ears (the lower halves especially) are erogenous zones. He also (begrudgingly, ofc) enjoys the sensation of someone stroking his cheeks/snout/face in general and finds it very relaxing.

Misc:

If you poke him in the eyes he will kill you

he has a tail but cannot feel anything in it

the bottoms of his feet have absolutely zero ability to feel anything

he can feel it when he blinks and he hates it because it feels really weird and causes pain - his solution is to blink as little as possible since there are no downsides/consequences to his not doing so - he usually keeps his eyes half-lidded because it’s the most comfortable position he’s found to keep them in

despite the fact he has feeling in his ears, he cannot tell if/when they’re moving

hates loud noises because he has a very dull, very slight, but constant headache - he’s gotten mostly used to it, but loud sounds and bright lights make it flare up pretty badly

speaking hurt more at first but he got mostly used to that as well, he tends to try and speak more hushed/low/quiet regardless to minimize discomfort

touching the rabbit nose sometimes makes him feel like he needs to sneeze - not always, but every once in a while. it’s weird.

he cannot feel the springbonnie suits teeth, probably for the best with how hard he grinds them together sometimes

opening and closing his jaw more than a few inches is incredibly painful and he therefore avoids it

he can, theoretically, take off the top half of the suit head, but its a hassle and requires far too much effort with how utterly imbedded he is in the damn thing. also doing that hurts. a lot.

anything outside of a normal range of human motion is painful - he will not turn his head 180 degrees, not even if you ask nicely

#springtrap headcanons #save tag #whew thats long #files away for later

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wyntereyez · 2 years

Text

CenTARDIS

A/N: I apologize for this in advance. This was written out of Spite™, when I saw an article going around about the BBC trying to crack down on Doctor Who fan works. I thought I’d show them by writing the crackiest crack to ever crack. At the time, I was thinking about another machinetaur story I’d written, so this is what came to mind. It was written quickly, and sat on my laptop for over a year. I’m trying to clean my harddrive, so this is going up since it’s finished. This isn’t intended to be taken seriously, folks.

CenTARDIS

Alive.

Oh, good. He hadn’t been sure that he’d survive that much radiation. Brilliant!

Wait…

That didn’t sound right. Not anymore.

Fantastic?

No. Still not right.

Cool. Cool? Did people still say cool?

Depends when he’d landed. Crashed.

He should probably figure that out.

But first, he needed to figure himself out. He began to run through his post-regeneration checklist.

Legs? Hmm… don’t seem to have those.

Arms! Hands! Oooh, fingers! Lots of fingers!

Ears? Yes. Eyes? Two. Nose? …I’ve had worse.

Chin? Blimey!

Hair… I’M A GIRL!

No! Not a girl! And still not ginger!

…wait.

…WAIT.

One of those wasn’t right. Time to go back over everything.

He reached out his arm - that was all good, still had one of those - no, two! He had two! Nope…the problem wasn’t there, unless… Ah, hands! With fingers that twitched and scrabbled against the floor of the TARDIS, which felt peculiar under his fingertips. Warm. Soft. Yielding.

It sent a ripple of sensation down his nerves.

That was different.

He braced his palms against the floor, pushed up into a sitting position, and got his first good look at the TARDIS. So his eyes weren’t the thing that had gone wrong, either.

The interior glowed a dull, wounded red. Battered, but alive. She was in the middle of reconfiguring, the coral struts slowly dissolving, the crystalline structure sloughing away to reveal something that gleamed like bone in the light.

He blinked. The TARDIS usually waited until he was out to rebuild herself. It seemed rude to watch her change.

He attempted to gather his legs beneath him, and that’s when he hit a snag.

LEGS. Right. THAT was the thing he was missing.

He looked down, past the scorched, raggedy brown suit his previous self had favored. Beneath the hem of his blue shirt, the tattered remains of his trousers twisted around -

Cables.

Thick cables, fleshy and gleaming, all bundled together to wind around the floor and disappear into the center of the TARDIS console, where the rotor had once been.

He reached down, touched one, felt the double sensation from both his fingers and the cable. Similar to when he’d touched the TARDIS floor.

‘What have you done?’ the Doctor whispered.

He crawled over to the console and pulled himself up, trying to get a look at the closest screen. The TARDIS responded (he responded?) by lowering the screen to eye level, and the Doctor read the damage report with sinking hearts.

The time rotor had taken a critical hit. Crystals had fractured, artron energy had been vented. Too damaged to siphon the needed energy from the Vortex, the TARDIS - dying, desperate - had latched on to the first source of artron energy she could find - himself.

She could be repaired; already, he was compiling a mental list of parts he could use for the repairs. Tricky, because he’d have to carefully plot out his trips. If the TARDIS was feeding off him, a finite source of energy, his jumps would have to be short and precise.

Plus, it was going to be rather difficult to retrieve any of these components without legs.

‘How is this even going to work? I’m a centaur! CenTAuRDIS? No, no, no… that doesn’t sound right… just cenTARDIS, then.’ He lowered himself back to the floor, thinking. Time to put his charm to good use and find someone who could be his legs. Did he have charm this time around? What if he was a grouch?

He didn’t feel grouchy. A little annoyed, perhaps, and confused. And hungry. Could he be hungry? Did he even have a stomach?

He flopped awkwardly to the floor and began to pull himself towards the door. Around him, the TARDIS interior continued its alterations, the pillars now gleaming gleaming ribs, the walls fleshy and veined. Becoming an extension of him. The floor beneath was gently ridged, providing handholds for him to pull himself along.

He hoped whoever he found on the other side of the door had a strong stomach.

The Doctor’s fingers caught the edge of the doorframe, and he hauled himself forward - and up, because the TARDIS had landed on its side, and once he’d reached the threshold, gravity readjusted.

He pulled his head over the edge, balancing on his elbows and tasted the familiar air. Earth. England. Definitely industrialized. Late twentieth century? Not far enough in the future to find the components he’d need. But full of people with thumbs and legs and brains. He just hoped he hadn’t landed in the middle of a forest, with just a deer for company. He thought he spoke cervine, maybe, but they weren’t the brightest creatures.

Fortunately, the first thing he noticed was a house. He patted the TARDIS’s side appreciatively; even wounded, she’d made certain he’d be able to find immediate help.

A gasp caught his attention, and he looked down, meeting the wide, wondering eyes of a small ginger girl. He felt a twinge of envy at the hue, then reminded himself that hair colour was the least of his concerns.

‘Hello!’ he said brightly. ‘I’m the Doctor! And I need to borrow your legs!’ He pulled himself higher, giving her full view of his torso and its trailing components.

For a long moment, the girl just stared, her mouth flopped open. Then she screamed and fled into the house.

‘That could have gone better,’ the Doctor sighed.

Dense. That’s what this new him was.

This was off to a fantastic start.

#doctor who #eleventh doctor #amy pond #fandom: doctor who #author: wyntereyez

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blognamebutstupid · 2 years

Text

Assessment 2

Chapter 1

An eerie feeling inside me slowly increased with each step I took.

“Something feels wrong.” Cherry blatantly showed her growing displeasure. Her voice echoed off the middle school walls, making it sound creepier. Hearing her say that only made me feel worse.

The school felt so barren, as if everyone in the world had vanished. It was calming in a way. Our footsteps here are the only things making sound in the whole building. It was still, but oddly felt too still.

Both of us jumped when Cherry’s stomach growled. We were on edge, but laughed it off. I really needed that laugh, and so did Cherry since the both of us relaxed after.

“Let’s just quickly grab it and go, I‘m super hungry! The others must be too,” Cherry admits, rubbing her stomach.

Yeah, the three of them should be waiting for us downstairs at the side door. I left my stuff with them too. This shouldn’t take too long, I kinda feel bad making them wait.

As we kept walking closer and closer to the next turn, the mood became heavy again. Each classroom had the lights off, each door looked locked at a glance, every tile above on the ceiling felt as if they were removed and replaced with eyes, watching our every movement. It was kinda like a lockdown drill in the middle of the night, and we were the intruders.

Tap, tap, tap, the tap of or shoes was in synchronism, making the sound seem louder. The tapping also echoed off the barren walls. The school is usually so filled with life. Well, it was when I was in middle school. The kids half-running so they couldn’t be told to stop running, the teachers inside the classrooms prepping for class, my friends waiting for me outside my locker, the tapping of the classroom clock, wait. The tapping of the classroom clock? It was more of a ticking than a tap. Oh, I was replacing the sound of the clock with the tapping of our shoes. Suddenly, I come back to reality, the creepy school and the eerie turn we were about to make.

The turn felt wrong, no, the corner felt wrong, I could feel it in my gut. Maybe I should say something. No, it’ll make Cherry even more worried then she is now. I can see Cherry’s legs shaking, she’s terrified.

There was a word my gut was trying to say. It was on the tip of my tongue. What is it? I know it’s something important! I know that at least. Hm, it’s right there, how can I not know it?

As we turn the corner, the word finally comes to me, “MOVE”. Once I got that word, my arm moved on it’s own, grabbing Cherry and pulling her back towards me, as if on instinct.

As I did that something flew past Cherry’s face. It made a sickening sound as it striked the wall. Cherry and I turned around to see what had flown at her with such extreme force, only to see a yard stick, seven inches deep into the wall!

I took Cherry’s hand, “We need to move!”

We ran down the hall we had just gone through, a roar behind us. I couldn’t hear footsteps coming from it. All I could hear was some sort of rhythmic fleshy sound. What the hell is that thing?! It hurled that yardstick so fast it went that deep into the wall? That would’ve killed her!

I kept going, knowing I was only running on adrenaline at this point. All I cared about was saving Cherry after figuring out its murderous intent. Turn after turn, down the stairs and right as fast as I could. I could feel Cherry stumbling as I ran, dragging her by the hand, and at this point I wasn’t having it. The sound was getting closer, making my heart race.

When I said I wasn’t having it, I wasn’t having it. I quickly turned around to Cherry, bridal style picked her up, and bolted. I’ve run carrying Cherry before, but it was only for a short distance, this time I had adrenaline to back me up.

Cherry didn’t even seem surprised though, she just sat there blankly staring. She was in shock. Did she turn around? What did she see? I would love to turn around and see what exactly was chasing us, but I know I would trip or slow down if I did. It was one more turn and there would be the door we entered through.

Closer and closer. Yes, picking up Cherry made us a little slower, but it prevents the chance of her falling and stopping us entirely.

I could hear the terror and fear yelling inside my head. Actually, that and my instincts were the only things controlling me right now. I had no room in my head for anything else.

It was so close! The door right there, after this corner of course. They are right outside, I’m sure they waited for us! “Open the door! Open, the door!” I screamed, hoping they would hear me, but I didn’t hear the door open, nor a peep. As I turned the corner I looked to the door where they promised they would wait. The thing chasing us slowed down.

They weren’t there. They were gone. It took me a moment to realize what was happening. I shook it off, placing shocked Cherry down who had the strength to stand. I grabbed the glass door, but it was locked.

It was locked. What the hell?! Cherry and I were stuck at basically a dead end! If we took the stairs to our right, it would slow us too much, and we’d get caught. I can’t go through the door behind us since it’s locked. If we go back the way we came, we would be stuck head to head with that, thing!

I inspected the door, looking for an opening. There! Our only chance! The rhythmic fleshy sound had slowed, not to a stop, but giving us time.

I punched the glass door, which snapped Cherry back to reality.

“W-What are you doing?” Cherry said, terrified. She looked around to then come to the conclusion that we were doomed.

“Stand back.” I punched the glass again over and over. Every time I punched the glass, the rhythm for the fleshy sound got faster. Cherry this time was whimpering. She took a step back in fear and tripped, bashing her head against the glass door behind her. The fall wasn’t enough to knock her out, but the stress made her faint anyway.

Shit. That just made things worse. I bash the bottom of the glass door again, this time shattering the glass. Yes!! Finally! We have a chance! I stick my hand through the glass and unlock the door. I swung open the door and shoveled Cherry out first, knowing this was my chance to get a look at what was chasing us even though I hadn’t left yet. The door was built to shut automatically though.

As I turn around, I realize how close it was to me. Slam, the door I had just opened shut after a frozen second. It’s face was only inches away from mine. Actually, I’m not sure if I’d call it a face. The only notable thing that made it a face was it’s long blonde hair that looked cleaner than anything in the school which startled me.

After being startled and coming back out of that frozen state, I stumbled backward out of the building, scratching myself on the hole I made in the glass door, taking some of the shards with me. That, thing just up and vanished right then and there.

“What the hell?!” I managed to spit out, getting up next Cherry, noticing she finally woke up.

Cherry paused for a moment, “Oh, haha it was all just a dream!” Cherry said hysterically.

“Cherry…” I said, worried for her.

“It was only a dream, all of it was only a dream! It wasn’t real! It can’t be!” Cherry laughed, seeming to become more crazy the more she repeated herself.

“Cherry, it was real.” I hug her tightly, thinking about how our lives could’ve been lost just a few seconds ago. Something still felt wrong, but I shrugged it off. It would come to me eventually.

Cherry started bawling her eyes out while tightening her hands around me. “I must be insane,” she mumbled through her sobs.

I believe at this point my adrenaline started to wear off because I could finally start to feel the pain all over my body. The glass shards stuck in my back, arms, legs, and my hand. The scrapes too. My whole body felt suddenly so weak. It felt all tingly, as if it’s all out of my control, I couldn’t control my legs. My arms felt kind of numb too. Even through all this pain, I feel somewhat relieved. I wince after my headache starts to form.

“Are you okay?” Cherry asks sniffling, as she lets go of my black hoodie. She then sees her hands which have been stained red by none other than my blood. She shrieks at the sight and rushes around to my backside to check out what had happened.

As she moved around me, I see she had gotten cut too, not as much as me, but enough to hurt a lot. She only got hurt because I placed her down on the glass shards when I basically tossed her out the door. I made it even worse by falling out the hole I made and landing on her. She lifted the back of my hoodie up and gasps at the sight of my back, but I shake it off. I can’t let her worry, we still have to get out of here.

As I try to stand, my legs fight me and wobble, preventing me from standing all the way up before falling to the ground. This is much worse than I thought. At the sight of this, Cherry’s eyes water as if they are about to overflow again.

“It’s okay Cherry, just help me walk.”

“N-no! You can’t! You can barely stand!”

“Then carry me or something!” I bark, “We still need to get out of here, that thing is still a threat!”

“B-B-But…” Cherry’s voice trails off as she continues to mumble to herself about how this is a bad idea. I give her a look to make her stop and becon her to help me up. She slowly gets up grudgingly and puts my arm around her shoulders. “1, 2, 3.” After she counted up to three, we slowly stood up together.

“Wow, you are heavy!” Cherry comments, hoping to make me laugh but my only response was a quiet whimper I let escape my mouth. We slowly walk to the road, making our way there a step at a time when I am reminded of just the other day.

(10 likes, I'll post the next chapter. I've only created 10 chapters so far, but that adds up to 65 pages. I'll make sure to continue working on it if you like it C: )

#my writing #Women #Thriller #Books #Chapters #Blood #Art #LGBTQ+#Romance #Horror #Detective #Origional Work

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