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bunny-jpeg · 15 days ago

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a side of fries

toto wolff

tags: smut/fluff, food (mcdonalds), age gap (26/52), pregnancy, pregnant!reader, gentle sex, sweet & spicy fic, cowgirl position, domestic

it was ten at night on a friday. and most women your age were probably at a bar or some club, they were dancing the night away in uncomfortable heels and short dresses. the loud thump of the bass and the endless drinks.

you could even hear them walking and chatting past your apartment in monaco. but you weren't a club go-er, not since your met toto. and not since you got pregnant.

you were half of toto's age almost to a t, twenty six while he was fifty-two. you both made quite the pair, but you loved him so deeply. you loved in a way that you never felt for anyone else. he was unlike any other man you had ever met.

you actually were the girlfriend of a young engineer and at a race in your home country, you ran into and met toto. while it was an honour to meet someone like him. it wouldn't come till after you and your boyfriend broke up that toto would come back into your life.

"you don't have to." you played with the bracelet around your wrist as you stood outside the expensive restaurant in monaco. he flew you out for the weekend, he told you that he wanted you to go on a real date.

he simply held your lower back and smiled down at you, "i want to, you are not making me do anything i don't want to do, meine prinzessin." then leaned in a little, "may i kiss you?" and that was when you knew that you were in love with toto.

and in turn he loved you more than the stars that dotted the sky.

it was ten at night, toto had been busy in the home office with work for the next leg of the season. he only had a month with you before he was back in different parts of the world. thankfully, you were able to join him for the dutch and italian grand prix.

he was comfortable being on the couch next to you, you tucked into his side. you wore one of his quarter zip sweaters that was loose enough on you to be comfortable. toto had an arm around you while you watched a movie on the television. it wasn't anything too difficult, toto had mentioned earlier that day that he had never seen those "animated spiderman movies" when he caught you looking at baby onesies online. you had your eye on a little spiderman one.

now you were snuggled up as you watched spider-man: into the spider-verse. and while you loved the movie, there was something else on your mind. you leaned up and kissed your lover on the jaw.

"toto." you said softly.

"yes, liebste." he asked as he pulled you a little closer to kiss the top of your head. he then looked at your face and asked, "what are you thinking about?"

"i'm hungry." you rested your chin up against him. you looked at him, "i want mcdonalds."

toto made a slight face before he ran his fingers through your hair, "darling." he said, "you know that isn't healthy for you or the baby." you only pouted further.

"but me and the peanut want it."

toto chuckled, affected by your puppy-dog eyes. he was glad that he married his weak spot. he moved his hand to your middle and rubbed it, the rounded belly you had. he said, "my sweetheart, please. we have food at home."

you pouted, "please... please!"

before toto knew it, he had a pair of proper pants on and a cleaner t-shirt. you were in maternity shorts and one of his t-shirts. he had sneakers on while you were wearing flip flops. toto thought you were beautiful. you were his weakness, he hoped that you didn't make a habit of weaponizing your puppy-dog eyes to get junk food.

you both went down to the car and soon were headed towards the fast-food place. it was odd, in a city with so much food and culture. you wanted greasy fast food. his hand was on your thigh as he rubbed the partially exposed skin.

toto entered the restaurant with you, his hand on your lower back. you went to the self ordering station and he stayed close to you. you looked at him and asked, "do you want anything?"

he raised his eyebrows at you and you tilted your head towards the screen.

he chuckled, "i don't think it'll agree with my stomach at this age... and if you're getting a soft drink, please get something with no sugar. i don't need the doctor giving you or me a hard time because of your sweet tooth."

you ordered a cheeseburger, a large (diet) coke, and a side of fries. you could already taste the grease on your tongue. toto thought it was adorable, how excited you were. how excited you were.

he remained close to you, a protective hand at your waist as you both waited for your food. he looked down at you and asked, "are you alright, liebste?"

you nodded and replied in what little german you knew, "mir geht es großartig." you stumbled over the last part a little and toto beamed at you. obviously the child you were having together was going to be multi-lingual but you didn't want to miss out on their conversations in german. so you've been trying to learn.

he rubbed your back a little bit and you had a hand at your swollen middle. your number was soon called and you got closer to the counter with toto close behind like a shadow.

the employee looked at you and then toto. she looked a bit confused and you just sheepishly smiled as you took the meal. you thanked her before you shuffled out of the restaurant.

when you got in the car and put the straw in your diet coke, before you took a sip you said, "she thought we were father and daughter."

toto made a face as he got into the driver's suit. he reached over and rubbed your middle, "and here i thought that getting you pregnant would solve that problem." he leaned over and kissed you, the sharp taste of coke on his lips before he buckled himself and drove off.

back at the apartment, you happily ate your greasy food while toto played with your hair. he was impressed with you in everything you did, you were the perfect wife for him.

"happy?"

you nodded, with half of a fry sticking out of your mouth. toto leaned in and ate the other half before he kissed you. by the time you finished your meal and got rid of the garbage. he was hungry for something else. as you were partially bent over to throw out the wrappers. he draped an arm over your belly and pressed his chest up against your back.

eventually he rubbed your middle and sighed happily, "you look divine." he pressed you closer to him and kissed the side of your neck, "you carry my child so well. you're going to be an amazing mother."

just as toto couldn't deny you, you couldn't deny him. you giggled a little and turned in his grasp. you kissed him on the lips, the taste of grease still stained them. you shuddered with warmth.

when he pulled away he simply suggested, "why don't we go to bed, you must be tired." he cupped your face with his large hand and smiled.

you ended up on the bed with toto slowly pulling the shirt over your body, exposing your pregnant body to him. he placed a hand on your rounded middle and leaned down to kiss you on the forehead, you could hear him say he loved you against your skin. sex was slowly becoming a little more difficult thanks to the bump. but you'd always find ways to make do. your husband stripped you free of your clothes like a present. his hungry gaze on your swollen breasts. even giving the tender flash a kiss when he got you out of the sports bra.

your body had changed so much these last few months. all because of him, it was quite the boost to his ego. that as his age he could still father a child with such a beautiful, lovely woman. he pulled back while you sat on the bed and admired you. he licked his lips at the sight of you and felt warmth pool through his body.

you sat there naked, it was only fair that he did the same. you admired him, licked your lips hungrily as he joined in you in bed. naked as well. he was still fit for a man his age, he took care of himself. he still had enough stamina left in him to make sure his wife was taken care of. he wrapped his arms around you as he laid in bed. with you still seated upwards, it was the perfect angle for him to kiss you bare bump.

"you're such a good wife, good mother." he said lowly as his hand dipped further down until he was between your legs. his long fingers toyed with your pussy as he kissed at your swell, "from the moment i laid eyes on you, i knew you had to be mine. no one that beautiful should go without. and in return you gave me the most precious gift ever."

he pressed you closer for a moment, his nose squished against your belly. he exhaled deeply. that was why he spoiled you, as a thank you. you were giving him a child. when he pulled away, he had a hand on your hip and watched you move on top of him.

due to the pregnancy, you had to switch up the positions. and while toto loved classic missionary, having you in his lap wasn't too bad either. his hands on your belly as he eyed at you, his dark eyes pulled you in. he licked his lips as you shifted yourself on his lap. then sank down on his cock.

you whimpered a little and it was music to his ears. he loved how you sounded and it only spurred him on further to touch you. to love you. to give his wife all the affection she yearned for. you were all his, and he'd give you the world.

"how are you feeling? sick at all from the food?" he asked. during your pregnancy he wanted to make sure that you were eating well and taking care of yourself. he worried about you, work made it hard for him to be around often. but regardless, he was still weak to your puppy dog eyes.

he held your hips as you moved against him. he wanted to steady you as you pleasured the both of you. so pregnant yet working so hard. toto was a lucky man. he admired you as the pleasure coursed through his body. he asked you once more, "is the movements hurting you?" concern in his voice where the edges were tinged with lust.

"no, no, it's perfect. it's fine. nothing hurts, not even my hips." you said with pleasure seeped deep into your voice as you moved against him even more. you felt the crawl of want through your core and your cunt clenched around his achy cock. you exhaled deeply, "toto, this feels amazing." you chuckled lightly, "even better than the mcdonalds."

toto took a firmer grasp of your ass and said, "that's good to know. that my cock is better than fast food. i'd say that it doesn't add pounds on you, but.." he eyed your swollen belly, "i fear that's not the case." he relaxed a little bit as you continued to move up and down his cock.

you moaned as you held onto his short dark hair and gazed into his dark eyes. he can see the lust heavy in your gaze as you moved up and down his cock. you arched your back a little more and he placed both hands on your swollen middle.

"my wife." he groaned, "i got you all nice and pregnant. spoiled you, made you all mine. a yet you've only become more beautiful. stunning in a ways that keep me hooked to you. i need you, my darling. every inch i can have you." he panted against your warm chest, "i got you pregnant, i made you mine."

his words made your stomach flip as you continued to pleasure him. the feeling was immense, his words were like hot coals against your already heated skin. and it made your head swim with euphoric want. only toto wolff could make you feel revered and adored, but also like a slut. a whore for him to play with. even though he spoiled you in every aspect he could.

it was a duality that made you shudder as you felt the pleasure continue to mount in your core. he kissed at your chest and it made you clutch onto his hair tightly. the thumping in your chest felt faster with each buck of your hips. you were beyond excited, pleasure dripped from your core as you took his entire length.

you felt a haze in your system as you rode him. he happily let his sweet wife keep the pace. let you get to climax first. he cupped your swollen belly, the feeling of the skin under his hands made his cock twitch. even at his age he could knock up someone as beautiful as you. it didn't take much either, just a weekend in the swiss alps... or maybe it was the hotel in monza.... or the back of a cab at an after party a week later. regardless, he got your pregnant.

you tensed up around him, your cunt tightened around his cock as you held on tighter. you came around his length and continued your hot, quick movements.

you near sang his praises as you came, tensed up around him and he pulled you down for a searing kiss. he picked up the pace of his movements and fucked you feverishly till he reached his own climax. the feeling flooded his head and left little room for coherent thought. almost like a primal need to fuck you until a base part of his was satified. so he continued to move his hips once he finished inside of you.

when the clarity hit, he stopped and held your face to pepper your heated skin with kisses. he rested against you and panted heavily, "alright, alright, my treasure. my love." he held your back more tenderly before he guided you fully onto the bed and laid a protective hand at your waist.

"i love you."

"i love you too. now don't think you can always get your way by giving me sex." he playfully scolded you. he shifted himself close to your pregnant form. how warm you felt even from a small gap between you two.

you just smiled at your beloved toto and said, "oh don't worry. i'll use my powers for good." as if you hadn't been using your child to be a very spoiled mrs. wolff. <3

#bunny writes #reader insert #formula 1 #formula one imagine #f1 smut #formula one fanfiction #formula one smut #f1 x reader #formula one #torger toto wolff #toto wolff smut #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff fanfiction #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff #mercedes racing #torger christian wolff #torger wolff

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megaderping · 10 months ago

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I feel like when people compare Akechi to Light Yagami, they fundamentally misunderstand his character. Their similarities really end at their designs, and Light is the kind of person Akechi would despise. Light Yagami lives a pretty privileged life at the start of Death Note. He has a stable home, with two parents and a sister who care about him. He's a successful student. There isn't really inherent tragedy to his life. The whole reason he starts using the Death Note is a mix of curiosity and a jaded worldview, and when it works it empowers him, very quickly goes to his head, as he believes he is one who can be a god of a "new world" once the shock of his initial kills wears off. While his first kill was to help someone, that altruism didn't last. He is in charge of his choices, while Ryuk mostly vibes and maybe eggs him on a little. Fundamentally, Light has something Akechi lacks: agency, and a comfortable life he took for granted. Meanwhile, Akechi is someone who lived on the bottom rung of Japanese society. His very existence is shameful there, between his mother being a sex worker, his status as an illegitimate/"throw away" child, and his mother's suicide. Years languishing in a foster system that is notoriously inhumane, in a country where 90% of the adoptions are grown men for inheritance and patriarchal reasons, while very few children in the system find permanent homes. When Akechi awakens his power, he approaches Shido not because he wants to kill people but for a stupid revenge plan cooked up by a traumatized child who's been nudged along by a malevolent god. He wants to build Shido up so that at the height of his power, he can expose him for the monster he really is, while another part of him genuinely wants to be useful to Shido, as Cogkechi later calls out. His feelings are a mess of contradictions, and so it's no surprise that Shido was able to mold him into his assassin at only 15 years old. It's also worth noting that Akechi only approaches Shido with his ability to cause psychotic breakdowns. Shido is the one who teaches and instructs him to do shutdowns. He's still complicit, very sunk cost with his revenge plan, but as I spoke of here, even if he wanted to quit, he couldn't alone. Shido's cleaner and control of the law and ability to effortlessly turn him in would render the Metaverse his only safe haven. I think people look at 11/20 Akechi and Akechi in the early parts of the engine room and assume that's just his "true self," when in reality it's another mask. Royal makes it very clear because in Rank 7, he outright warns Joker of what's to come via a pool metaphor and offers an out (though he's MUCH happier if you don't take it/stick to your principles), and in Rank 8, he goes on that big "I hate you" speech... while Sunset Bridge is playing. Y'know, the song that plays at the end of most confidants to reaffirm bonds. So when he smiles as he shoots what he assumes to be Joker, that doesn't mean he's genuinely happy. More likely, he's an emotional clusterfuck, given he also is disoriented enough to namedrop "Shido-san" over the phone, and in the subsequent meeting with Shido, tells him not to kill the Phantom Thieves and that Morgana is "just a cat." Yes, he says they'll make them fear for the rest of their lives, but remember, he's talking to Shido. The things he says are likely all incredibly calculated to sound appealing to Shido. And when you consider that he planned to utterly destroy Shido's reputation after the election, the "delay" makes even more sense.

Later, Akechi goes on about how the people he induced shutdowns on were deserving of their fates, but I don't think he believes it so much as it's the only way he could convince himself that it was worth it, and given how much society failed him, and given how many of the people he targeted were likely rivals/competitors or rich fucks, I think he'd be less inclined to assume good faith. Kunikazu Okumura was not an innocent little victim, after all. He was one of the people who requested breakdowns and shutdowns the most. I think Akechi enjoyed killing him not because of how it'd hurt Haru, but because of catharsis. Because Okumura is just as monstrous as Shido, so why should he feel remorse? However, I don't believe he feels the same about Wakaba, as when he discusses her with Shido, he mentions how her fate was because she refused to willingly work for him. It's another justification, but I personally think Wakaba's death was the most painful for him because he was effectively making Futaba just like him. That's why I think his reaction to Sae threatening Sojiro's custody was genuine. Anyway, evil grinning Akechi is just another mask, as I said. Keep in mind, this is someone who laments not meeting Joker years ago, someone who Morgana outright points out is lying about his hatred. And that's the thing. Light Yagami, while a really fascinating character, is not someone who had all this childhood suffering or lack of agency. He does not regret his actions in the slightest and goes down due to his own hubris in both the anime and the manga. While you can argue that Ryuk set him up by dropping the Death Note, Light was the one who picked it up and chose to use it. Any nudging from Ryuk didn't coerce Light into doing it because Light seized the opportunity. No, if Light Yagami is like anyone in Persona 5, it's Masayoshi Shido, not Goro Akechi. Both believe they are god/god's chosen, that they are the ones who will reshape the world to their ideals, and to be frank, both use and abuse women to serve their own purposes. Goro Akechi goes down sacrificing himself for the Thieves and pleading with them to stop his father and again in Maruki's reality when he refuses to let Joker accept a gilded prison of a world for his sake when he knows better than anyone what it's like to have no true freedom. If you max his confidant, you see him in the postcredits, leaving his survival entirely possible, and I think it works because at the end of the day, Akechi was meant to be a victim and a foil. Light is a villain protagonist and a cautionary tale. Though its his POV we follow, he isn't someone we're meant to root for, but I definitely don't think enjoying the character is a bad thing at all. He's really interesting! I just think that a lot of the Akechi and Light comparisons are surface level at best.

#goro akechi #persona 5 #p5r spoilers #character analysis #long post #death note spoilers

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 10 months ago

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1930 Ford Highboy Coupe

There’s always lots of detail work with any build and this ’30 Ford highboy coupe is no exception. Look closely and you will find Craftworks Fabrication handmade steel motor mounts. The license plate and valve covers were painted by Jeremy Seanor of Luckystrike Designs. He also painted all the accompanying engine and tranny parts. The powdercoat was handled by Pittsburgh Powder Coat while the chrome plating was conducted by Jon Wright’s Custom Chrome Plating.

The chassis is comprised of a Roadster Shop custom frame that was stepped, stretched, and features contoured ’32 Ford-style framerails. It was also then boxed, capped, and has hole punch flared front framehorns. From here the frame is outfitted with a Super Bell 4-inch drop, drilled and plated I-beam axle, low-profile monoleaf spring with Ridetech tubular shocks paired to custom-made drilled billet radius rods from Johnson’s Hot Rod Shop. Steering falls to the Flaming River box and a LimeWorks Hot Rod column topped with a four-spoke Billet Specialties Sprint Car–style leather-wrapped wheel. In back there’s a Currie 9-inch rearend outfitted with 3.70 gears, 31-spline axles, QA1 coilovers, a Pete & Jakes Panhard bar, and a parallel four-link setup. Braking is a combination of disc/drum front to rear. The forward braking dark gray–painted Wilwood Dynalite calipers are neatly hidden behind the Pete & Jakes finned backing plates. While in back the 9-inch is outfitted with 11-inch brakes, this time hidden beneath the SO-CAL Speed Shop finned drums all the while the chassis rides on a full set of 16-inch Dayton wire wheels wrapped with Coker/Excelsior rubber measuring 5.50R16 in front and 7.00R18 in the back.

All hot rods have something fun settled between the ’rails and beneath the hood (well if they have a hood). In the case of our ’30 Ford highboy coupe it sure appears to be a vintage Ford Y-block but after more than a cursory look we begin to see the telltale signs that there’s something more. Indeed, while it may look like a Ford it truly is a 376-inch LSX iron block, with aluminum heads and ARP studs, plus adapter-equipped small-block Ford (Windsor) valve covers all from Don Hardy Race Cars and then assembled by Talik and Marc Mullin. The intake is an Edelbrock LS dual quad with a pair of Thunder AVS EnduraShine carbs dressed in OTB air cleaners. Delivering the gas from the Tanks stainless reservoir is an Earl’s Performance billet fuel pump. More engine accessories include an MSD 6AL box to go along with the MSD billet Ford small-block distributor that functions through a timing cover adapter from Chevrolet Performance all the while using an MSD coil and Lokar vintage plug wires. Powermaster also supplied the alternator and starter, the battery is an XS Power AGM, and a Wegner Motorsports water pump is used as well as a Wegner front accessory drive unit. This 500-plus hp V-8 utilizes custom headers made at Craftworks Fabrication based on Ultimate Headers LS header flanges. The pseudo-Ford small-block is backed up to a TCI StreetFighter 700-R4 with a 2,800-stall speed converter operated by a Lokar shifter. The trans cooler comes by way of Derale Performance and moves the power through a 3-inch-diameter custom-made driveshaft.

#Ford Highboy Coupe #Ford Highboy #Ford #car #cars #street rod #hot rod

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marlynnofmany · 3 months ago

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Clues

Even though it was mid-afternoon on our spaceship, the local time for this part of the planet was early morning. Zhee and I strolled over from the spaceport to the store where a package was waiting for pickup, expecting to arrive right when it opened, but nope: we were early. Most of the stores on this city street were still closed and dark, lit by the vivid pink sunrise and ignored by passing hovercars. Window cleaners soaped up the big front windows of our destination: a good-sized jewelry/accessory store.

The cleaners were a pair of Strongarms, which made this a fascinating career choice. I’d seen Mimi climb all over the engine parts on our ship. I knew his tentacles had good enough suction for this sort of thing. But these two were small and particularly athletic, and they had climbed to the top of the window, cleaning from the top down, erasing their suction cup marks as they went. If their cleaning tools had been the messy old-fashioned kind, there probably would have been too much dripping to make that possible, but these professionals were cleaning fast with nary a slip.

Zhee didn’t care. “How inconsiderate of the proprietor to not be here early to meet us,” he said with an irritated click of his pincher arms. The pink sunrise reflected off his purple exoskeleton, making him more colorful than usual. He probably would have been proud of that if he wasn’t busy being annoyed. “Waiting here is boring. Let’s see if that shop has anything worth looking at.” He flicked an antenna at the storefront two doors over, which had just turned on its light.

“Sure,” I agreed, “We can at least look through the window if they’re not open yet.”

Zhee grumbled something that made me suspect he might badger them into letting us in even if they weren’t.

Luckily I didn’t have to talk him out of being rude; the store was open after all. It was a little shop full of miscellaneous knickknacks and multi-species food items. Plenty of things to look at. The Frillian shopkeep was delighted to sell us both snacks: gummy intestine candy for Zhee (ew) and mixed nuts for me. I’d had that brand before, and was sure that it didn’t hold anything alien that would give me unexpected allergies.

(I haven’t been allergic to any food yet that was rated for human consumption, but I wasn’t about to take chances.)

I also picked up a packet of the heat stickers that Paint and the others liked, since they were on sale and the shopkeep was excited about this new item.

“Do you get a lot of Heatseekers here?” I asked.

“Oh no, but these have many uses,” she told me, typing in the price. “Other species like to be warm as well, especially if they are headed in a cold direction. And my cousin uses them to warm food! I expect these will be very popular.”

“I expect so,” I agreed.

Zhee was at the door, looking toward the other shop, and he made a little “aha” noise. I finished my purchase, thanked the shopkeep, then joined him in heading back toward the place we’d meant to visit.

I carried my purchases in a nifty Waterwill bag; the shopkeep hadn’t been as excited about that as the heat stickers, so maybe they were old hat here. But I still found the concept of hard water fascinating. It occurred to me that the waterbag and the heat stickers could probably make an awful lot of steam together, especially if handled improperly. I’d be back on the ship soon, though, and the bag could melt into regular water safely in the sink.

The window cleaners were just packing up as we arrived, and the angle of the sun made their work shine. Not a suction cup mark to be seen. I gave them a polite nod while Zhee tried the doors. Still locked, but lights were on inside, as well as the morning sun. Someone moved near the counter. When Zhee rapped on the door and waved a pincher, they hurried forward. It looked like another Mesmer.

The door opened. “Are you the couriers?” snapped a blue-white bug man who was slightly shorter than Zhee. I was a terrible judge of Mesmer ages, but he sounded older. He spoke directly to Zhee.

“Yes,” Zhee said. “From the good ship Slap the Stars.”

“Great. Come with me.” He ushered us inside and re-locked the door, not so much as batting an antenna at our excellent ship name. No sense of fun, this guy.

As we walked between the aisles of shiny merchandise — bracelets and bangles and exoskeleton accents — distant shouting filtered through the closed door in the back. Somebody sounded mad.

“Wait here,” said the Mesmer, gesturing toward the front counter. Then he disappeared into the back room.

Somebody was definitely mad. When the door opened, I caught something about professionalism, in a tone that suggested this was a boss dressing down employees.

A glance at Zhee told me he had no idea either.

When the Mesmer came back — who never did introduce himself, I realized — he was carrying a high-end stasis case for shipping, and he walked quickly. I still caught a few words that sounded like a demand for someone to fess up.

“Everything okay back there?” I asked.

He ignored me. “This must arrive in pristine condition,” he told Zhee, setting the case on the counter.

“Of course,” Zhee said.

I had the tablet for him to sign for the pickup, and I held it out wordlessly. The guy snatched it out of my hands, holding it with one pincher arm and typing with the little wrist fingers on his other. His antennae were scowling.

Zhee gestured to the back room. “Is someone being disappointing?”

“Yes!” he snapped. “One of the night workers has been coming out to the storefront, and leaving display items on the floor! And they refuse to admit who!” He shove the tablet back at me, waving at one of the aisles. Now that he mentioned it, there was an empty display case at the top, with the glass door swung wide.

“Foolish thing to do,” Zhee said.

“Extremely! There is no reason for it, and we are going to find out who!”

Since he was ranting at Zhee and not me, I stepped over to where I could see better. A half-dozen glittery arm cuffs were arranged in a circle on the floor. Weird.

He kept going. “I’m sure it was a human, because of those filthy little marks they leave on everything they touch. The only reason we employ them in the crafting sector is because all the items are cleaned before they’re presented to paying customers. The only one who works up front is under strict orders to wear gloves at all times. But now one of them is sneaking out here and fondling the merchandise! And leaving it on the floor!”

I took a closer look at the door to the display case. Yeah, those looked like human fingerprints, lit up guiltily by the morning sun.

Zhee asked, “Any clues about which human it is?”

“No. I’m not even ruling out the one with the gloves, because this behavior makes no sense, and gloves can be taken off. I swear, I’m this close to firing the lot of them.”

I walked back over to join them. “You know every human’s fingerprint is different, right?”

They both looked at me in silence, which was answer enough.

I said, “If you have your employees all leave prints on something else, you should be able to just match them up.”

The shopkeep’s antennae and mandibles flared into a complicated shape. “WHAT.”

“Sure.” I looked at my own fingers. “Mine are a kind of oval loop, though some people have perfect spirals or a gentle wave.”

He clacked both pinchers. “And you would be able to say which one matches those marks?”

“I should be,” I said, hurrying back over for a closer look. “At the very least, I can narrow it down for you. These are nice and clear. We just need to get a clean set from everybody else that’s not smudged.”

“Yes.” He looked around the storefront full of shiny, valuable things. He frowned. “We’ll have to let them touch something.”

I looked too. “Oh! What about the window?”

He stared at it for a moment. “Acceptable.”

Zhee was skeptical. “Will the culprit deliberately smear their marks?”

“Then that will be a sign of guilt,” the shopkeep hissed.

“What if there are multiple smudges from clumsiness? You might want to prepare for more than one round of dirtying your window.”

He hissed again. “I will make them do it right the first time.”

I had an idea. “What if you told them they were touching the window for a different reason?”

Both sets of bug eye turned toward me. “Such as?”

I fished the pack of heat stickers out of my bag. “Do you think they know what these are?”

The shopkeep leaned his head forward. “What are they?”

“Heat stickers. But! We could pretend they’re lie detectors.”

We could, and we did. It was a silly way to get fingerprints, but I’d read about fictional detectives who’d gone to more elaborate lengths to solve a mystery than this. And it might even work.

The big front windows had a row of shelves under them that meant our suspects would have to lean forward slightly in order to whisper their statements of innocence. They would need to press their hands against the window for balance.

I let Zhee pretend to be the visiting expert while I stuck heat stickers to the window. He did a good job of acting mysterious and aloof while he explained things to the gaggle of employees that the other Mesmer herded out.

As promised, only some were humans. The others were Strongarms with a couple Waterwills. No Heatseekers ready to ask awkward questions about the suspiciously familiar looking “lie detectors made for banks.”

(They had to be mounted somewhere stable, you see, and the suspect had to be close enough to breathe on them. They were normally warm, and would change colors and turn cold when they detected lies. Totally believable.)

Really, it didn’t matter if they believed it or not. They all lined up, looking baffled, and did as their two hissing bosses commanded. The Mesmer from the back room, a large green-and-brown lady who would have been great at hide and seek in the forests of my home, told the humans to go first.

Then when they had all left prints on the window, she told the rest not to bother. While they looked even more confused, she waved me forward with the door to the display case. It had detached neatly, perfect for carrying around and comparing fingerprints.

I held it by the corners and took a close look at the first set. “Not this one,” I announced. “Too triangular.”

Behind me, a human woman asked incredulously, “Are you checking fingerprints?”

“Yup!” I told her, moving on to the next.

The other humans had a variety of reactions to that. An older guy laughed, a younger woman was worried that her hands might be dirty with crafting materials, and others made indistinct noises. Some of the non-human employees asked for an explanation of what was happening.

I kept up my sleuthing, hoping that the prints were all as different as the first couple. I didn’t want to look like I didn’t actually know what I was doing.

“OH MY GOD,” a guy burst out. “It was a marriage proposal, okay? I thought Sierra would be the one to find it.”

I turned around at that, and found one of the humans spilling the beans.

“I’m sorry I didn’t just ask you,” he said to the woman next to him. “I wanted it to be special, like the rock circles we used to leave each other under the tree. I put a note at the top of the earring display, because it looks like a tree.”

I looked at the display he pointed at. I couldn’t see a note from here, but it was distinctly tree-shaped.

The two Mesmer bosses loomed over the guy. “This was courtship?” asked the tall one. “Not a deliberate effort to let our valuables get stepped on or stolen?”

“No!” the guy said. “I’d never do that! I really thought she’d be the only one to see it in the morning, and she’d just put them back and find my note.”

The woman, Sierra, shook her head. “I got moved to the adhesives section. I haven’t been over here all week.”

The man put his hands over his face while the bosses conferred.

“If you promise to never tamper with the displays again, you may keep your job,” the tall one told him.

“I’ll never do it again,” he said. “I don’t have to — I think?” That last was aimed at Sierra.

Her answer was a dramatic kiss that made the rest of the humans applaud and the Mesmers step back in distaste.

“If you are quite done eating each other’s faces,” said the smaller Mesmer, “You are both assigned to cleaning the window and the display of all traces of human filth. Do not leave more.”

“Yes sir,” they chorused.

The other humans gave them congratulatory pats on the back, and exclamations of relief that the whole mess was over. The non-humans seemed mostly relieved. A couple still looked confused, but clearly didn’t want to ask for details.

I handed over the display case door, then peeled a heat sticker off the window. “Guess we won’t need these anymore.”

Everybody went back to what they were supposed to be doing. The night shift got their things together to go home, while the day shift took over the crafting section and opened the store for business. More lights came on. Someone unlocked the front door. Zhee convinced the bosses to reimburse us for the heat stickers. That was nice; I still had more in the pack. And these would be warm for a while still.

I peeled off the last one and decided against putting them in the waterbag. No good making the thing evaporate on the way back to the ship. Instead, I stuck a finger between each and got a fistful of stickers held by their edges. My hand was only a little hot, and it would be a short walk. Speaking of which…

“Let’s go,” Zhee said, pincher arms full of the shipping case.

I opened the door and held it while he passed. Taking up my position at the window was the happy couple, equipped with their own window-cleaning supplies. Luckily they wouldn’t have to reach as far up as the Strongarms had.

They were talking quietly about finding new jobs where they could have the same sleep schedule. And hopefully bosses that didn’t mind a fingerprint or two.

I smiled and let the door shut, leaving fingerprints only on the handle.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#my writing #The Token Human #I'm making progress on the second novel btw #not exactly fast progress #because of ~current events~#but progress nonetheless #in case anyone was wondering #anyways on to the usual tags:#haso #hfy #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #eiad #writeblr

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reasonsforhope · 1 year ago

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"A company in France has developed genetically-enhanced houseplants that remove 30 times more indoor air pollutants than your normal ficus.

Paint, treated wood, household cleaners, insulation, unseen mold—there is a shopping list of things that can fill the air you breathe in your home with VOCs or volatile organic compounds. These include formaldehyde and other airborne substances that can cause inflammation and irritation in the body.

The best way to tackle this little-discussed private health problem is by keeping good outdoor airflow into your living spaces, but in the dog days of summer or the depths of a Maine winter, that might not be possible.

Houseplants can remove these pollutants from the air, and so the company Neoplants decided to make simple alterations to these species’ genetic makeup to supercharge this cleaning ability.

In particular, houseplants’ natural ability to absorb pollutants like formaldehyde relies on them storing them as toxins to be excreted later.

French scientists and Neoplants’ co-founders Lionel Mora and Patrick Torbey engineered a houseplant to convert them instead to plant matter. They also took aim at the natural microbiome of houseplants to enhance their ability to absorb and process VOCs as well.

The company’s first offering—the Neo P1—is a Devil’s ivy plant that sits on a custom-designed tall stand that both maximizes its air-cleaning properties and allows it to be watered far less often.

Initial testing, conducted by the Ecole Mines-Telecom of Lille University, shows that if you do choose to shell out the $179 for the Neo P1, it’s as if you were buying 30 houseplants. Of course, if you went for the budget route of 30 houseplants, you’d have to water them all.

The founders pointed out in an interview done with Forbes last year that once they settled on the species and fixed the winning genetic phenotype, the next part of the process was just raising plants, the same activity done in every nursery and florist in every town in Europe."

Deliveries for the P1 are estimated for August 2024.

-via Good News Network, November 6, 2023

Note: I'm not a plant biologist, but if this works the way the company's white paper says it does, holy genetic engineering, Batman.

(Would love to hear thoughts from anyone who is a plant biologist or other relevant field!)

#plant biology #superplant #pollution #indoor plants #plantblr #house plants #plantlife #hope posting #solarpunk #small business #genetic engineering #genetics #molecular biology #microbiome #respiratory health #france #ivy

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mizgnomer · 10 months ago

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Behind the Scenes of The 60th Anniversary Specials - Part One

From Doctor Who Magazine 599:

DWM sits down with David Tennant on the set of The Giggle to talk retro chic, running, and roundels DWM: Hello David. How are you enjoying your new ship? David: It's an incredible bit of engineering. It looks very impressive in real-life, but when you see it on camera, it's just got such a depth and a scale and a scope to it. It looks posh. DWM: Does the white colour scheme thrill the 12-year-old in you? David: Oh it's very retro. It goes right back to the original design. And then just blows it up times 20. This is the TARDIS as you would have known it... If you watched the show in 1963, and then watched this, you'd be in no doubt about what you're looking at. DWM: There's a bit of your old TARDIS in there as well... David: The crackle is definitely reminiscent of that. But it's a lot cleaner.

The 60th Anniversary Specials each have their own tag, but the #whoBts60th tag is for general photos and behind the scenes information that span multiple episodes. The full episode list is [ here ]

#david tennant #catherine tate #doctor who #rtdedit #doctor who 60th anniversary #dw 60th #I do love the new TARDIS #I loved David's old one too for sure #but this one is awesomely gorgeous #whoBts60th #whoBts #stuff i posted

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wellworth · 2 years ago

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Injector Pro Clean Diesel Fuel Injector Cleaner

Injector pro clean is a concentrated, one-tank clean-up product that will reduce smoke, improve performance, and reduce emissions. cleans intake manifolds, injectors, combustion chambers, turbochargers, and coolers, restoring lost performance. use injector pro clean annually or whenever deposit-related performance issues are suspected. available in sizes to treat small and commercial vehicles or bulk tanks.

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rad-roche · 1 year ago

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heard rumblings of an oblivion remake. i'm not sure if that's actually substantiated, but if it is it'll be interesting to see what they do with it. part of oblivion's charm, i think, it just how busted and of its time it is. it's got that 360 near-launch look to it, that 7th gen bloomy, saturated haze, like somebody at bethesda is spit-polishing your camera in real time to keep your focus off the fact that the engine is spewing black smoke. the score is lush and soft and sweeping. oblivion has, for lack of a better term, a kind of mucilaginous quality to it, i think, but i assume part of that is the positive memories i ascribe to it through nostalgia. oblivion is bright, and dense, but there's enough in it for you to stick your hands in and gouge out something interesting yourself. if you make it cleaner, better, if you wipe the vaseline off the lens, i wonder what's left? i can't argue that they shouldn't improve things like stability, or the ai, or increase the amount of voice actors from 2 to 3, but i hope the likelihood of a quest npc saying ᶠᵃʳᵉʷ��ˡˡᵎ and then pinging straight through the wall, never to be seen again and ruining a quest you'll do 80 hours from now, is at least there. i'm looking forward to it, in any case

#tes oblivion #very fond of that era visually. yes even the brown sludge era. and the ubisoft blue tint era #i've still to play starfield and i will and from what i've heard it's actually pretty polished?#oblivion with polish.... could you imagine #heard dishonored 3 also................ mixed feelings...............#text post #anybody who's played oblivion for any length of time knows THE specific farewell i mean

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thisismeracing · 1 year ago

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King of my heart | MS47 | Part. 24 (ending)

― Pairing: Mick Schumacher x hamilton!reader ― Word count: 1.2k ― Warnings: none I guess. ― Summary: Mick Schumacher rode a lousy wave for quite some time, so when the sky gets cleaner and the sun brighter he just knows something terrible may be in store for him. Whereas y/n was just so magnetic, and the possibilities of life with her seemed better than anything his mind could ever create, that’s why, for the first time in forever, he threw caution carelessly through the window, hoping to get to the finish line before it catches up on him.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

part. 23 | series masterlist

Mick paced around the room again, and for the looks of it, it wouldn’t take him long to dig a hole in the exact spot his racing boots were hitting.

“We don’t have much time, Mick, you gotta get ready,” Gary, his engineer, knocked on the door, opening it just enough to look at the German.

“Where’s Yn?”

“You mean Yn Hamilton?” he asked, just to make sure and Mick tried to keep his eyes from rolling, too stressed to answer properly, but too polite to give a rude answer to Gannon who was friendly most of the time. The engineer took on the driver's silence, and tried, “I think she’s with Lewis. Want me to get her?”

“Get who?” just from Yn’s voice Mick could guess she was smiling. That bright and big smile he loved so much. The only smile that would be able to calm his racing heart.

Gary waved to Yn opening the door wider for her, he motioned ‘5 minutes’ to Mick and left the lovers alone giving them as much privacy as a small driver’s room could.

“Hey, mouse, what's the matter?” she walked inside and towards him, tipping her face up so their lips could meet in a quick peck.

Mick, however, had other plans.

His hands found purchase on her waist, bringing her body impossibly closer, and his tongue took advantage of the surprised gasp she let out to sneak inside her mouth, tasting her sweetness. Yn grasped his blonde locks between her fingers, and corresponded the kiss as much as she could, feeling how nervous he was.

When the air made itself scarce, the driver hid his face in the crook of her neck.

“I’m nervous, what if I fuck it up? What if I crash? What if the car is shitty? What if–” Mick started, voice trembling, finally letting his walls down, and showing someone how vulnerable he was feeling.

Sure they had this conversation before, and sure Mick Schumacher knew he was a great racing driver, but he was also a human being and, of course, he had his own insecurities and doubts.

Yn held his face between her hands, leveling it with her own, and looking him in the eyes. His big blue orbs looked at her with adoration and fear all mixed in one, and she smiled sympathetically.

“Close your eyes,” she commanded in a soft tone and he obeyed. “Hear this rustling of people walking around from one side of the other working non-stop?” Mick nods keeping his eyes shut, they’re chest to chest so listening to her soothing voice and feeling her breath evens his. “They’ve been working for a while now so everything is perfect for their number one driver. They’re not sure if the car will beat that Red Bull witchcraft, but they’re doing their best, and they counting on you to do your best as well. It doesn’t matter if this combo doesn’t get you a podium today, there’s always next Sunday. They got the will to make it happen, and they got the driver to do so too. Leave the past in the past, get in that car, and do what you love doing, do what you know you can do, and also what you don’t know you can do yet. We’ll be here watching, rooting, working, and praying.”

Her comforting words and soft tone made Mick lean even more on her touch. He smiled, nodded, and kissed her forehead.

“Where–”

“Here,” she was quick to answer, already knowing he was going to ask from where she would watch the race. Lewis was racing as well, and before Sunday rolled around Yn was asked this question by a lot of people, her brother included. “I’ll watch it from here, you may see me cheering when Lew overtakes others, but I’ll be here rooting for you too. And I don’t care about the outcome, you’re my number one.” She whispered the last part and Mick smiled, kissing her yet again.

“I love you.”

“I love you,” she echoed back, lacing her hands around his large shoulders and enjoying his warmth. “You’re also looking hot as fuck in this new racing suit, please tell me you can sneak one in your bag tonight.”

Mick laughed and nibbled on her neck just enough to make her whine, but before he could give Hamilton a witty answer, there was a knock on the door.

“Go out there and kick ass,” she kissed his chin, and smiled, turning to the door.

And that was exactly what Mick did. He turned the first race of the season into a show. His show. Everyone watched on the edge of their seats as time after time he overtook cars and climbed up to the podium. A fight for the podium went on on the last turn – Lewis, Mick, and Max were fighting for first place, and in the last seconds the Schumacher overtook his future-in-law, hatching the first place and surprising everyone.

The camera panned on Yn watching the race from the Porsche’s garage, and the way she smiled and cheered when Mick got his first win of the season on the first race of the season during his first year with a team that was racing for the first time. It was a first, and how sweet it tasted for everyone. Even for Lewis, who ended up getting second place, but celebrated as if that was his win too.

The team ran for the celebration, and Mick went straight for Yn once the car was parked and the helmet was off. There wasn’t much thinking into it, he just saw her there crying and smiling wearing his team’s merch, his number on her body, his initial dangling from a chain around her neck, Mick couldn’t do anything but kiss her lips in front of the cameras. The cheers and flashes faded during the seconds their lips were sealed, he hugged her close, before jumping on top of the crew. Lewis walked to his sister after the congrats from his own team, he hugged her and they smiled as brightly as ever.

After the podium celebration and interviews, Mick walked back to his garage finding Yn and Lewis there. They were side by side talking, both smiling, and Mick couldn’t help but remember the first time he saw Yn. That day she was talking with Lewis too, it was also the beginning of the season, and now, just like before Mick felt like he could stare at her forever. Yn looked stunning wearing Porsche’s shirt and baggy jeans, the colors of the shirt creating the perfect contrast with her black skin. Her curls were tied on top of her head after the long day. She was stunning, and now he was the one walking into the room, walking to her, his girlfriend.

His heart was doing somersaults inside his chest.

After so many days of worrying and agonizing about the future, he was here with a seat on a great team. After so many days of fear about his relationship, Yn was here, as sure as ever about their commitment. After so many times unsure of the future, Mick was happy with the unknown, happy to discover it with Yn, happy to build his own legacy, happy to experience life to the fullest, and even happier to rule the kingdom of Yn’s heart because he knew damn well she was the queen of his heart, body, and soul.

She was the one he had been waiting for.

“There he is,” Yn said taking Mick from his thoughts and walking towards him again. “My number one,” she whispered hugging him, “the king of my heart.”

And nothing ever felt as right as being in her arms.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, honeybees! I hope you guys liked this. I know it's been a while since I last updated, but it's finally here, and I'm happy to end (or give a pause to it, considering I won't stop thinking about mickyn in the context of komh) this journey. Thank you so much to each and every one of you who liked, reblogged, commented, sent asks, and gave me the motivation needed to get this together. This wouldn't be possible without you, thank you! <3 I hope to see you guys in a new series soon. Meanwhile, make sure to tune in to my account and read all the new blurbs and pieces coming. I may post a bonus piece (or rather a smau epilogue) hihi.

▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @v1naco @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @peachiicherries @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @goldenalbon @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @heelariously @bbreezybitch @graciewrote @ferrariloverr @minkyungseokie @scopeiguess @princewis @leclercsluv @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @barcelonaloverf1life @fanboyluvr @noncannonships @is-just-a @love4lando @woozarts

©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

#komh #ms47 #millie writes #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x black!reader #hamilton!reader #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 x black!reader #f1 fandom #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #mick schumacher #formula one fanfic

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traveler-at-heart · 1 year ago

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Finding Home - Part 3

Summary: This is a series imagining what it was life for Natasha after joining S.H.I.E.L.D.

Warnings: Violence, injuries.

Part 1, Part 2

There were only five people in the room.

“Jericho missiles” Fury says as soon as the door is shut. Clint looks at you, alarmed.

“What are those?” Natasha says and Maria turns to the screen.

“Developed by Tony Stark. Selects a target, at a certain height it splits into 16 smaller missiles to have a cleaner impact. The shockwave is also more devastating”

There’s footage of tests conducted in military facilities playing on the screen.

“Obadiah Stane sold five of these to the Ten Rings. Stark was able to destroy them all. Or so he thought” Fury pushes three identical folders in the direction of Clint, Natasha and you.

“There are still two” Clint confirms after skimming through the file.

“At an abandoned factory, close to the Canadian border” Natasha reads out loud, going through all the information at record speed.

“So on a scale of one to ten, how heavily guarded are these bad boys?” you ask Fury.

“They have grenades up their asses”

“So, like a seven”

“Not funny, Agent” he warns, but you turn to Natasha, who let out a small chuckle.

“She thinks it is”

“It will get old really fast. Trust me” the man says and she rolls her eyes. “You leave tomorrow, before the Ten Rings decide it’s time to light up the sky in an American city”

“Let’s go over strategy today. Natasha’s suit and weapons should be ready” Maria proposes.

“I’m looking at the Widow Bites” you interrupt.

“Farley said that if you messed with his tech again he’d quit” Fury reminds you.

“Good riddance. He’s an idiot and she’s not going on a mission with faulty equipment”

“Fine. Hill” Fury nods in confirmation and they leave the room.

“What was that?” Natasha turns to you, but you shrug your shoulders, projecting the map of the factory and reading the file.

“Oh, now you’re modest about it?” Clint teases. “Y/N here is an MIT graduate. Mechanical Engineering, top of the class”

“It was a small class”

“If she wasn’t an agent she’d be running the design department. Made my arrows ten times lighter and faster. Deadly too”

“That’s enough. I just want to make sure Nat has the best equipment” you wave dismissively, still looking at the map.

It’s an important mission, yes. But your priority is Natasha.

—

“Fucking Farley” you mutter for the tenth time, making Clint chuckle.

As suspected, the Widow Bites have a short range and the voltage isn’t enough to incapacitate enemies, so you’ll be fixing that as everyone else discusses the plan.

“Y/N is coming in first. Once she disables the security, Romanoff and I will go set the explosives for the missiles” Clint says, going over the map of the warehouse.

“I’m not leaving her alone” Natasha says and while you keep your eyes on the Widow bites, correcting the wiring, you smile.

“It’s fine, Nat. It’s my area of expertise. I’ll hack their systems, keep an eye out and will join you once the explosives are set” you look up, nodding her way. Maria walks in, looking over your shoulder. “Tell Fury he needs to kick fuckface Farley to the curve”

“Noted, Brains. Which one of you will be Brawn?” Maria turns, smiling teasingly at Natasha and Clint.

“I’m Beauty” Clint says, turning to Natasha. “Romanoff?”

“Sorry to break it to you, but Natasha is all three” you say, removing the magnifying glasses and stretching your back. “Is it dinner time yet?”

“Our order should be ready. I’ll pick it up” Natasha offers, taking the car keys.

“Don’t forget about the…”

“Extra rice, yes” she rolls her eyes and Clints follows right behind, ready to take a break.

Maria sits right next to you, and you don’t need to turn around to know she’s staring.

“Yes, Hill?”

“So when are you asking her out?”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, come on” she pushes your chair and you roll away, annoyed. “You compliment her, she knows about your special order, the pining and the heart eyes”

“I’m one of the few people who treat her like a human being. That’s all” you say, hoping it’s the end of the conversation. Maria throws you a paper ball, just like in your academy days and you snort. “Ass. Yes, I like her. But she’s barely had a life. I can’t ask her out and make it awkward. Natasha needs to live and experience things and once she knows what she wants… maybe I’ll do something about my feelings. Until then…” you point at your friend, and she nods, motioning as if her lips are sealed.

You just hope your feelings for Natasha won’t get in the way of this mission.

—

The air is colder than you anticipated.

“Good to go?” Clint says, looking over his shoulder. You try your comms and go over the equipment. Once you nod, he lowers the jet, counting down to prepare you for the fall.

“Be careful” Natasha says. It’s the first things she’s said to you since you left headquarters.

“Chinese for dinner?” you say with a smile, hoping that it will ease the tension. Natasha nods and you wave, jumping into the darkness.

The landing is a bit rougher than you would have wanted since the parachute was dragged around by the wind, but nothing is broken and you can disable the security alarm in the hatch.

From there, your next stop is to the control room. There’s only one man monitoring the cameras, and you knock him unconscious before he can reach for his gun.

“I’m in. You have twenty minutes” you announce.

“Got it”

Out of pure curiosity, you look over at the computer on the side, browsing through the files.

“Clint” you say as you stumble upon Stark’s designs.

“I’m kinda busy” he says, installing the explosives around the warehouse.

“They have intelligence on other Stark weaponry. Should I make a copy and then clean up their files?”

“Proceed. But be on the lookout, we’re almost done here”

“I can multitask” you say, pulling out a drive to copy all the files. The encryption will have to be done later, but for now, eliminating everything they have should be enough.

Either way, the entire building is blowing up in a few minutes.

An alarm blares across every hallway, and you look up, surprised.

“What the fuck, Y/N? We’re not done here” Barton barks, clearly in a hurry to finish the job now that you’ve been discovered.

“It wasn’t me” you say, frantically looking at the cameras. There’s a man with long hair that frames his face, covered up to his eyes with a dark mask. “We have company. I’m locking the doors on your side, exit through the vent”

“That means you won’t be able to get out” Natasha protests.

“I’ll find another way and meet you. You have to go. Our friend here seems to be… in a hurry”

Your blood runs cold when you see him punching his way through the guards. He is a super soldier, judging by his strenght and now you’re trapped with him on this side of the building.

“Fuckfuckfuck”

Pulling the drive to your pocket, you leave the room and go to the side farthest away from the man.

The thing is, he seems to be going through the walls instead of using doors, so the distance grows smaller with each of his steps.

“Natasha is gone” Clint informs you as you’re sneaking around. That makes you stop in your tracks.

“Bullshit”

She wouldn’t.

“The minute we were out she ran away in the opposite direction. I’m on the jet now. Give me your location”

“East side of the…”

The sound of metal and concrete cracking surprises you from behind, and you come face to face with the man.

He takes your gun and twists your arm, but you aim at one of the pipes in the ceiling to give you a few seconds to run. You can feel him going right behind you, dangerously close.

“The building is blowing up in five minutes, Y/N” Clint says.

“Thanks, I’m trying not to get killed by fucking Frankenstein” a heavy metal arm pulls you down, punching you two times until you’re gasping for air.

He then kicks you down a couple of stairs, and you hang on to the railing by an inch. Once he glances over to check if you’re still alive, you shoot at his eyes, protected by the mask.

Wrong move, as he’s not pleased in the slightest.

Dropping a few feet to the ground, you begin to run down the exit.

A few things happen at the same time.

You turn and see Natasha, breaking a door. You smile at her. Of course she wouldn’t leave. Her eyes widen, and when you turn around, the man is raising his gun.

Two shots and then you’re down, hot liquid spilling down your stomach and leg.

“Y/N” Natasha screams, throwing Widow Bites to the man. His arm is briefly paralized and Natasha takes advantage of the moment to help you up. You limp against her, feeling the building shake.

“Come on, Clint is waiting outside”

Luckily, the ceiling behind you begins to fall, putting some concrete between you and the man.

The next minutes are confusing, since you struggle to remain conscious.

“HQ, this is Barton. We have an agent down. We’ll be there soon” you hear Clint report. There’s a pressure in your abdomen but you can’t look down. “Natasha, I have to fly this thing, keep her awake”

“Y/N” the woman says, trying to stop the bleeding. “Look at me. You can’t fall asleep now”

“I’ll be fine. You were great today, Natasha. I knew you’d be a great agent. Would you tell my mom that I…?”

“Tell her yourself”

“Don’t be a сука” you mumble, your eyelids heavier.

“What is the one thing you always wanted to do?” she asks, desperate to keep you talking.

“I always wanted a cat. My sister’s allergic” you drag your words. But then, you turn to the redhead, smiling. “What about you?”

“A rollercoaster” Natasha says without hesitation. Your smile grows.

“We’ll go to Connie Island, it’s gonna be so much fun…”

“Y/N, stay with me, don’t close your eyes”

But you’re too tired to listen.

—

“Her family should be here any minute” Fury steps in, eyeing your bruised face. Three surgeries later and the doctors think you have a pretty good chance of recovering.

Natasha and Clint are sitting by your side, their eyes glued to the monitor that keeps beeping.

“The man… had any of you seen him before?”

“I thought he was a myth” Natasha says, the image of the metal arm and the symbol on it etched on her brain. “They call him the Winter Soldier”

“KGB?” Clint guesses.

“HYDRA”

“That’s ten times worse” Fury sighs, turning to the Russian. “We’ll need your help to figure out who he is. But for now… nice job”

“I should have done more” Natasha says when Fury leaves the room.

“She’s alive because of you” Clint protests. “But you should let me know, I thought you were running away. When you want to pull a rescue, at least tell me where to fly the jet”

“Ok” the redhead nods.

“Let’s get something to eat. You know Y/N wouldn’t want you to starve yourself”

—

When Natasha and Clint come back to your room, Maria is talking to an older woman. She has eyes like yours, and a smilar hair color, which makes Natasha think it’s your mother.

“You saved my daughter” she says as soon as Natasha walks in. Your mother hugs her tight, thanking her.

She has no idea that this is all new to Natasha, especially the hugging part.

“Let’s go over some forms” Maria rescues the redhead, walking the older woman to the door.

Her words echo and Natasha goes over them till she loses count.

She’s never saved a life before. She never had someone thanking her for keeping a loved one safe.

Maybe, there’s hope for her after all.

—

It’s been a few days and you have yet to open your eyes.

Natasha stays next to you, and reads out loud the way you did for her. Your mom is in the couch, knitting as she listens, keeping an eye on the girl.

Even if she’s not aware of Natasha’s circunstamces, she can tell there are strong feelings involved between you two.

“How long have you been at SHIELD?” the woman says, examining the green pattern on the scarf she’s knitting.

“Not long” Natasha tenses, hoping it won’t be necessary to bring up her past as a former assassin.

“Y/N’s father was in the CIA. Her sisters were more… I don’t know. They argued over clothes and wanted to wear makeup. Y/N would work on cars with her dad or build stuff”

“That sounds nice”

“It was, yes. Drives me crazy that she risks her life for a living. But it’s in her blood, I guess”

“She’s a great agent. And a wonderful person. You did a good job raising her”

“You’re too kind” the woman says, pulling the scarf and presenting it to the redhead. “Here. This color brings out your beautiful eyes”

Natasha is hesitant as she takes the green scarf, inspecting the fine knitting and feeling the softness of the fabric against her fingertips.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you”

“Thank you. For saving her. I’m happy to know my daughter has wonderful partners. I like you, Natasha”

“I’m glad to hear that, because I kinda gave her the secret pasta recipe” you say with a weak voice, making both women rush to your side.

“Oh, sweetheart” your mom says, running her hands through your hair.

“Sorry to make you come all the way here. I know you hate flying”

“No, don’t be silly. Plus, I’ve spent some time getting to know Natasha. You guys make a great couple”

“Ma!” you protest, the monitor beeping loudly as your mother teases you. “Would you be a dear and get the doctor? I really want to eat something that isn’t hospital food”

Your mother rolls her eyes, but leaves and you stare at Natasha.

“Thank you for saving me”

“It’s nothing”

“It’s not nothing. I’m alive because of you, Natasha Romanoff”

“I guess it’s our thing, isn’t it? Saving each other” she smiles, her hand inching towards yours.

“Yes. Yes it is”

—

The doctor promises you’ll be discharged in a few days, but there’s a long road ahead for your recovery. At least six months without missions.

Fury stops by, surprising you.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, eyeing the box of chocolates that Maria brought you. “You mind?”

“Help yourself, boss” he picks a sweet and nods approvingly, clearly stalling. “Come on, you’re not one to sugarcoat things”

“The drive you took. It does have some very detailed information on Stark’s tech. I know we discussed an undercover mission a while back… but I decided to send Natasha instead”

“As what? I was supposed to be a new engineer on his team”

“Legal. Close to Pepper Potts. And hopefully, Agent Romanoff will charm Stark”

“Oh, Nick. Come on, not the playboy angle” you protest. There’s an unpleasant feeling at the pit of your stomach as you imagine Natasha dealing with Stark’s advances.

“It is what we have, Y/L/N. Take some time, recover and come back. I have a feeling we’ll need all the help we can get”

“Yes, Director Fury” you nod, as Natasha walks in. The man nods, and you can tell he trusts Natasha now. It’s a relief.

“How are you feeling?” Natasha says, pulling the usual chair next to your bed.

“Happy that I get to go home. soon Not so excited over my mom running around my place cleaning and complaining”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could stay but…”

“You have missions. I heard you’re booked and busy, Agent Romanoff”

“Well, yes” she smiles, blushing lightly.

“Is that what you want? Because that’s all that matters to me”

“I want to do good. Clean my ledger”

“You’ll do great. I know it” you reach for her hand, smiling.

“I could… put it off. For a few months. It won’t be a big deal”

But you can see how eager she is. To prove herself she’s so much more than the Red Room. That she’s not just the Black Widow.

She’s Natasha Romanoff.

“I’m not going anywhere, Nat. You’ll always have me. Ok?”

“Ok” she nods, looking away, but keeping her hand in yours.

Deep down, you knew this was only the start of your journey together.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n

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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 1 year ago

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part 15 - we’re all misunderstood

"Me and all my friends, we're all misunderstood. They say we stand for nothing and there's no way we ever could." -Waiting On The World To Change by John Mayer

Masterlist Part 14

The Watchtower was a marvel of engineering and fortitude, constantly in orbit above Earth among the star-studded void of space.

Just a quick glance out of the meeting hall window had proved to the Regent that her little brother would love it here. He’d inherited the innovative side of Fentonworks more than she, so the combination of one of his obsessions and tech to fiddle with was a dream come true.

(She’d inherited the ruthlessness of Maddie Fenton.)

Batman, the Dark Knight her little brother had trusted and the father of her soulmate, tapped away at a tablet in hand before turning his focus to her at ease form, hands clasped behind her back. Wonder Woman stood at her side and Superman at the other. A flanking maneuver it seemed.

The Regent would’ve been offended if they didn’t consider her a threat, despite her willingness to discuss war prevention between the Infinite Realms and the Living Realm. Her armor alone was meant to be intimidating at first appearance, but it was the woman sealed into it that gave off the vibes of ‘Approach with caution’. She was a Warrior, not a pacifist,and everything she presented about herself was meant to signify that.

However, the Regent was trained by the Ancient of Peace and would demand a peaceful resolution to a crisis rather than conflict, even if the Liminal had no desire for a battle against the Justice League.

Constantine was a familiar presence in the room. The Laughing Magician had a soft spot for her little brother, but she felt the claim she had of his soul. It was cracked and missing so many pieces, but it was still a good one. The Sad Trenchcoat Man might’ve been a career drunk and conman, but that didn’t mean he was unnecessarily bad.

He wouldn’t be here if he was.

The man in question spoke first, much to the obvious surprise of those present, “How’s Phantom?”

Her helmet turned to face him down where he sat a few feet away, an unopened flask resting on his thigh, “He is fine. Would you like me to pass on a message?”

Constantine seemed to relax for a moment before shaking his head, “Nah, the kid bugs me enough.”

“Regent.” Batman interrupted. “We would appreciate it if you could answer some questions we have regarding some disturbing files we received from Phantom.”

The Liminal nodded, “I suspected as much. I cannot speak much on behalf of the King or others not present, but I will answer what I can truthfully.”

“Thank you, My Lady, for your willingness to discuss such things with us.” Wonder Woman offered with sincerity in her words.

The Regent shook her helmeted head, “I’d rather peace than be across from one another on the battlefield, Princess.”

“Wisely so.”

The Knight tapped on his tablet again, a projection of one of the Ghost Files documents spreading across the wall behind the Bat, the man in question returning his attention to her.

“Why does the King require a Regent?”

If Bruce was being honest, which he was, he’d rather be anywhere else than here in the Watchtower about to helm peace talks between the Infinite Realms and Earth. He’d rather be eating dinner with his children, questioning Phantom about Jason’s whereabouts, or even on patrol- anywhere but here.

It wasn’t even the presence of the armored woman who’d answered in place of the King Constantine had been asked to summon, rather Bruce wanted nothing to do with the Death Energy he felt in lapses radiating from the Regent that felt… cleaner than that of what Ra’s Al Ghul or Talia had.

Bruce wanted answers.

But he also wanted to be anywhere but here.

He supposed it was his self-preservation instincts trying to get him away from the being that’s been summoned, he had no choice but to stay though.

“The King is too young.” The Regent replied evenly, hands clasped in front of her stomach, much like Diana would when trying to demonstrate that she’s prepared to draw her sword at a given moment. “There is still much for him to learn and experience before he is ready for the Crown.”

Batman hummed, even though Constantine spluttered in shock- “A kid defeated Pariah Dark in single combat?”

“Yes.”

“There are some questions that we would like to have recorded for the record, would you be amenable to this?” Batman interrupts, “We would also discuss public use.”

Regent nods, helmet tinting a darker green as the Watchtower lights slant across it for a brief moment. “I accept, though there are some answers that are not mine to give.” The woman takes a breath, “I cannot give the identity of the King without his permission, nor can I discuss how or when he died.”

“Is there a particular reason why?” Superman asks. “It is considered taboo to ask a ghost anything related to their death because it can cause them to relieve it.” A pause, “Ghosts, or Ecto-Entites, are a fighting-based culture. They are beings of varying intelligence, thoughts, and emotions- sentient and sapient, much like humans and aliens. Capable of great things, both good and evil.”

Bruce processed those words, a pit of horror forming in his chest. How many times has this woman said those exact words, hoping for them to be heard? They were eloquent, with the formality that hinted at diplomatic training, but with so much hope that it almost physically hurt.

Capable of great things, both good and evil.

Wasn’t that the choice Bruce made every time he put on the cowl? Anytime one of his kids got hurt and he felt such rage in his bones? He made the choice every day to do good and while it may not be great in the broader scale of things, it was to somebody somewhere. That was what it meant to be alive, to have free will, to exist.

Now he finally understood why Phantom gave him the Ghost Files.

He needed this. This confrontation of what it means to exist outside of Bats and Birds, the cowl and the mask, as a being. Would Bruce have listened had he not seen the Files? If he hadn’t seen the inhumanity committed upon the inhuman? What evil would he have perpetuated had he refused to listen?

(Tim might think he had been the only one to watch the video of Danny Fenton’s death.)

(He was wrong.)(What if he hadn’t heard the wail?)(What if he hadn’t seen the rebirth of Fenton to Phantom?)

With all the bloodshed the GIW had on their collective hands, they would not go quietly.

The Regent had emphasized their zealot tendencies, hypocritical ideology perpetuated by the Drs. Fentons and somewhat lackluster training, but exceedingly advanced technology geared explicitly towards Ecto-Entities in her testimony to the Justice League in the hours that followed. Several examples from the Ghost Files were explained and expanded on, including the destruction of the Casper High Gym which resulted in the death of a faculty member and the maiming of a student. Evidence of the town roads being utterly demolished, what looks like the aftermath of war being the norm for the citizens as they try to go about their daily lives.

She had prepared to discuss all the above, and gone through various questions she’d been expecting from the League, but she had steadfastly avoided thoughts of the GIW’s unethical experimentation. Naturally, the League began this particular section with the Files’ opened to what Danny, Tucker, and Sam had included, a warning issued to all present that what they were about to watch was grotesque and to leave the room if they felt unable to hold the contents of their stomachs.

The Regent was an older sister, a daughter, a leader, and a warrior- but she was still only able to take so much. (She hadn’t known the Fentons recorded Danny’s Phantom’s vivisection.)

(She hadn’t known they called each other sweetie and fudge-kins while digging in his chest cavity.)

Fury was a familiar enemy and friend in equal breaths, existing in the space between her ribs and her heart, trapped by a cage of bone and will.

Fury echoed by her mirror image that entered the camera frame, sword first and merciless as she gutted Jack Fenton.

(Regret was nowhere to be found.)(Shame had no place here.)

“By Realms Law 2127 subsection 32f paragraph 3: liminals, mortals, all in between may be promptly judged and or executed on grounds of threat to End a protector spirit or child. May also be decreed as battlefield law when faced with a sufficiently armed opponent and or external force.” The Regent recited monotonously. “Drs. Fenton also could have been tried for Invasion by opening the portal, but Phantom was able to give them a pardon.”

“On what grounds?” Wonder Woman questioned, “He is a protector spirit, yes?”

“Yes, which allowed the previous Law to be enacted and legal. By him acting within Amity Park and using Fenton tech to catch Ghosts, he gave them a pardon by an unspoken alliance.”

“An alliance they broke,” Batman this time was clearly angry too in his clenched fists were any indication, “when they vivisected Phantom.”

“Yes.” The Regent continued, “Make no mistake, I uphold the Realms Law to the best of my abilities and expect my subjects and my council to do the same. We are a people and people have societies, societies have structures and without that, we would be no better than what the GIW claims us to be.”

“Well spoken, My Lady.” Wonder Woman complemented, clearly taken by the Regent’s speech.

“This is all gory and horrifying, but we still haven’t talked about preventing a bloody war.”

While he’d been quietly observing the meeting, minor mutterings here and there, Constantine remained the only Dark member present. The Regent was somewhat fond of the Sad Man, even without having ownership over his soul (or the majority of shards) he would remain a fond memory for the Nightingales.

“My Lady,” the Magician belatedly addressed her, clearly having recalled to whom exactly he was speaking.

“Constantine,” Batman warned, “we’ll get to that.”

“Indeed we shall. In fact,” the Regent twirled a hand in a graceful motion “the Anti-Acto Acts is the main point of contention on the docket and allows that,” now she thrust a pointed finger at the Files’ section on ‘experimentation’, “to be legal.”

“It’s been discussed, previously, to bring these laws before the UN with a censored version of the Ghost Files.”

The Regent nodded almost immediately, “If you can, yes, but I would recommend leaking some of the data for the public to judge.”

“Amity Park, for instance?” Superman asked, “Let the public choose a side and put pressure on the UN.”

“Perhaps.” WW nodded, “Though there is likely chance that blame will be shifted onto the Ghosts solely for the damage.”

“We can show the footage of the attacks that caused them.” Batman interjected, “As well as the videos of Phantom protecting Amity’s citizens at risk to himself.”

The Regent agreed, “There are also videos of teenagers practicing drills for Ghost and Ghost Hunter attacks.”

“What about sitting for an interview for a newspaper?” Superman suggested, “I can get a reputable reporter to conduct it.”

“That can be done.”

The Regent felt a slight tug on her Proto-Core, a shiver down her spine to follow- her little brother was trying to summon her back to him. Nothing urgent, not with just a slight tug, not an emergency.

It had been quite a while here anyway and she missed her boys.

“I’m afraid I am being summoned for a council meeting.” The Regent announced, “If I am needed again-“

She took a breath before turning to Batman, “You May summon me, Dark Knight, through your Lady’s Claim.”

A friendly handshake with Superman, “Have your reporter meet me in the Ridge next Friday during the Witching Hours.”

A clasping of arms with Wonder Woman, Warrior to warrior, “When this is settled, I would ask for a spar, Princess.”

And the Regent was gone in a torrent of icy green-tinted mist.

A/N:

Happy new year!

I can't believe it's 2024 already! Feels like I just got used to writing 2023.

As always, thanks to the wonderful beta @meditating-cat, who also let me who use them as a sounding board for ideas for the Regent earlier. I cannot wait to write those ideas, let me tell you.

As always, if you have any song suggestions please feel free to share and check out the masterlist for the rest of the series. It's always updated afterwards!

Thanks for reading!

#dp x dc #dp x dc au #dpxdc #dc x dp crossover #jazz fenton #regent!jazz #jason todd #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jazz x jason #batman #anti-ecto acts #let's get it #happy new year 2024 #lets start it off right with the end of the GIW

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acapelladitty · 1 year ago

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Greasing The Wheels: Part Two

Pairing: Riddler/Reader/Scarecrow

Word Count: 6.5k

Part One available HERE

Summary: After the 'success' of your first meeting with Crane, Edward arranges another meeting as he allows the mad scientist free use of your body and soul.

(warnings: threesome, deepthroating, whipping, double penetration, rough sex, exhibitionism, bdsm dynamics, anal sex, crying, orgasm, cum marking, punishment)

As always, Edward’s instructions were as clear as day and delivered in such a way that even the simplest of minds could comprehend them as your eyes flick over the scrawled note which awaited you atop his favourite chair.

Your role is to do whatever is asked of you. You will service Crane as a makeshift cleaner, doing what you can to improve his working space, while also fulfilling any other service which he may require of you. You are expected to do so with enthusiasm and skill, using your prior knowledge of what Crane likes to ensure that he enjoys you.

Failure to meet any of these very basic requirements will result in punishment and Crane and I have very different approaches to administering discipline. We have discussed your enjoyment of our previous meeting and Crane has expressed a clear desire to test you with elements of his toxin. Disappoint or embarrass me and I will be forced to indulge him.

All our usual rules apply, and Crane is aware of both your limits and your safeword.

Preparations were quick to follow.

You were meticulous in your routine as every inch of your body found itself treated to some form of treatment, be it an exfoliation or a shave, and your makeup was kept simple to enhance your natural features. It was Edward’s preference and on nights like this, when the game was the focus of your fun, it was your pleasure to indulge him.

Edward observed the results, as he always did, and he seemed pleased with your efforts if the slight warmth in his gaze and wandering hands was anything to go by.

“Pretty little thing.” He murmured, running his fingers across the loose white shirt which tucked into the short skirt that hung to just above your knee. “Do you remember your role?”

“Yes, sir.” You answer and the title earns you an approving nod as he pulls his goggles free of his hairline and deposits them at the side.

“Excellent. I will be working on the finishing touches for Crane’s new customised leg brace so my presence will be mixed. He is aware of my hard rules and, should he disrespect them, you are permitted to call for me and seek out my support. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do well and we’ll see about a special reward.” Edward leered, not bothering to hide the slight tent in his slacks as he brushed his groin against your hip.

“One that I’ll like?” You ask, batting your lashes as you tilt your head at him.

The question nets a chuckle as his fingers trace along your jawline.

“For a little while, yes.”

x-x-x-x-x

The abandoned farmhouse which Edward revealed as Crane’s hideout was surprisingly imposing as it loomed ahead on the short drive. Edward, one hand on the wheel and the other alternating between the gearstick and your thigh, did not seem the slightest bit intimidated as he quickly dragged the car up the dirt path and switched the engine off.

A nervous energy, one borne of your previous encounter with Crane plus the promise of what lay ahead, made your body shiver as your hands flexed against your legs.

“Are you incompetent?”

The question catches you by surprise, making you start a little as your head snaps towards Edward - only to find him staring at you intently.

“I’m not sur-”

“Are you incompetent?” Edward repeated, cutting you off with a harsh voice.

Meeting his gaze as you often did, you shake your head softly.

“No, sir.”

“Then you will be fine. You have your instructions and your safety net.”

Now nodding in agreement, you slip from the car and try to ignore the slight dampness of your underwear and the shameful way in which your anxiety only seems to make it worse.

The house is unlocked, and Edward is quick to sweep you through the main floor as he leads you through to the main living space. It is an odd sort of house with many of the furnishings and trappings missing, replaced with unmarked boxes and scientific looking equipment which meant nothing to you. Eventually though, your gawking ceases as Edward turns a corner and brings you face to face with Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow himself.

Clearly in his main workspace, a large desk sat surrounded by various notepads and stacks of books which were clearly used often. A slightly smaller desk lay attached to the larger one and this was covered with beakers and mixed bottles of coloured liquids.

Crane himself stood in full costume; his patchwork costume and mobility aids as familiar as ever as the majority of his face lay hidden away by both his mask and the shadows of his hood.

A traitorous stab of arousal lances through you as you meet his milky gaze once more.

“Good evening, Doctor Crane.” Lowering your head in greeting, your voice is slightly higher than usual and the cadence of it doesn’t go amiss as a slight smirk tugs at the corners of Edward’s lips.

“Crane.” Edward offers, nodding only once.

“Nygma.” Jonathan answers in kind. “And his little pet. How delightful. Does she know of our arrangement?”

Heat tickles at your cheeks as both men speak of you as if you were not there.

“Yes. She knows the role she is to fill as we work.”

“Good. Come here, dear.”

Moving forward on legs which feel unsteady, you take the few steps necessary to stand before him and your neck tilts up to meet his impressive height.

“And what do you think of our little arrangement? I don’t imagine your master asked your thoughts before he traded you like a whore.” Heat pooling between your thighs, your arms remain submissively pinned to your side as his thin hands move to ghost along your body, teasing the edge of the shirt.

“He told me what was expected and it’s not my place to question it, Sir.”

Crane’s cold fingers trace over the soft bruises which have only just started to fade on your exposed collarbone, his fingertips matching up to the evidence of your activities with Edward earlier in the week. “Masochism suits you, little toy. Tell me, at what point do those masochistic tendencies fall into true suffering? When your master punishes you? Roughly fucks you? When you disappoint him?”

“If I disappoint him then I deserve to be punished.” You answer with a demure smile, feeling the burn of Edward’s eyes on the back on your skull. “He’s brilliant and he always knows what’s best for me.”

“Even when he punishes you to the point where tears are streaming, and you feel ready to break? To shatter into pieces like fragile glass?”

“Especially then.” You pause before adding a hasty. “Sir.”

It’s a cheeky response and it does not go unnoticed as yet another small chuckle pulls free of Edward’s unseen lips and Crane’s eyes darken, dilating almost imperceptibly.

“Your little rabbit has fire.” Crane comments, eyes casting over to Edward as he disregards you completely. “Do you lack the discipline to truly snuff it out?”

“A broken toy has no appeal.”

“Hmm, yes. For once, we agree.”

And with that Crane took a step back and you found yourself dismissed as both men took their leave to head over to one of the sprawling tables. Remembering Edward’s earlier information, you turn in place and head back to the kitchen which you had spotted earlier, knowing that the items you need will be found there.

Sure enough, sitting atop one of the wooden kitchen units lies a plastic bucket surrounded by two or three various cleaning products plus a fresh pack of cloths. A touch of humiliation plays across your skin as your role for the evening truly sets in and you are quick to fill the plastic bucket with hot water from the nearby tap before adding some cleanser.

Your clothing isn’t designed for such a cool building and you shiver as a breeze curls around your exposed legs, piercing through your shirt and making your nipples press against the fabric as they peak. In response, you drop to the floor and start your tasks as you dip one of the cloths into the cleaning mixture and swipe it across the floor.

It comes away with some dirt but not as much as you would have expected given the general state of the house and a firm determination to do as well as you can settles in your mind. Edward wouldn’t allow any less and the promise of a reward was as deliciously tempting as ever.

Scrubbing away at the floor with a rhythmic motion time loses meaning until a soft creak of the wood behind you causes a startle that makes the brush fall from your hand. Attempting to turn in position, you find your movements halted by a rough hand gripping the back of your neck in such a way that you freeze in instant panic.

Little more than a creature clamped between wolves’ teeth.

"Do not stop working. No matter what."

Cold words with an unspoken threat, instantly recognisable as the deep tenor of Crane, wash over you and you nod out your understanding - a tight, anticipatory feeling settling in your gut.

"Speak, little rabbit. I trust your narcissistic master hadn't robbed you of your tongue yet."

"Yes, Dr. Crane, sir." You stammer out as your hand seals around the fallen brush to pick it up once more. Always following instructions.

Like a good girl should.

Your skirt is flung unceremoniously over your lower back to expose your entire lower half to his sight. A heated flush paints its way down your face and neck as you maintain slow circles of the brush while remaining on your knees.

His fingers are quick to brush over your skin, a feather light touch which draws a sigh from your lips until it forms into a light squeal as he brings his hand down hard on your defenceless ass. The loud crack of the connection breaks through the air like lightning and is instantly followed by a spreading heat that warms your cunt and sends a shiver down your spine.

"Don't. Stop." Two words punctuated by growls as he sinks two fingers viciously into your cunt, the digits using the thankful wetness there to sink up to the knuckle without much resistance. It's not a gentle touch, his fingers clearly testing your readiness rather than providing it, but the calloused skin and slight fullness feels like a delicious warning of what is to come.

His grip is brutal, hand digging into the flesh of your hips as you hear the slight squeak of his mechanical brace as he drops heavily on one knee to the floor. Arching your back, you raise your ass as you were expected to do - the position uncomfortable as you now support yourself mainly on the one hand which is not scrubbing away at the floor.

The sensation of his velvety cockhead brushed against your slit, seeking out the warm hole he viewed you as. The side of his curled hand brushes against your cunt as he angles himself carefully before thrusting himself within you in one sharp movement.

A yelp snaps free of your lips, pleasure lanced with a discomforting pain at his sudden intrusion making your walls spasm around him as your knees jerk against the floor. His breathing is heavy, interspersed with low grunts, as he gives himself a moment to enjoy the tightness of your hole as you clench around him.

It doesn't last, and he immediately sets himself off on a cruel pace; his hips slamming against your ass as he drives himself hard against your body, every thrust sparking a dull, aching pain as the very tip of his cock bounces off your cervix. The onslaught leaves you breathless, discomfort making tears well in your eyes as you cling to the warm pleasure which steadily builds around it.

"You take it so well." Crane snarls. "A trained whore, fulfilling her only purpose."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm going to use you as I see fit and when I'm ready to provide you the reward you've worked so hard for, you'll take every drop."

Shaking your head in a frantic nod, you cry out as a harsh hand tugs as your hair - yanking it back with such a ferocious grasp that your scalp burns as your head stretches back in such a way that your neck is fully exposed.

"Verbal answers only, little toy."

"Yes! Yes, sir. I understand." You babble out, the words strained by your taut neck before adding. "Thank you."

You can almost hear his smirk at the add-on as he resumes his brutal pace, his cock giving no quarter as the length of it reams you out. He was definitely longer than Edward but not as thick and the difference in size was surprising and unfamiliar.

Before long, his grunts grew more erratic, and his grip of your hips tightened to the point where you were certain that small rounded bruises would decorate the spot in the coming days. Without any warning, aside from a wicked thrust which slammed his cock against your cervix one final time, you felt the heat of his release as it burned you from the inside out.

Turned on but nowhere near your own peak, a whine of frustration slips free of your lips as you clench around him determined to milk out whatever pleasure you could. Sensing your intentions, Crane pulls free of you with a lurid wet noise which sparks a fresh blush across your cheeks. His hand gropes at your ass roughly, caressing and squeezing the skin painfully as he inspects your wrecked hole and the mess there.

"Turn." He commands, his tone low yet satisfied as he enjoyed the aftershocks of his own orgasm.

Following his intention, you keep the brush tight in hand as you shuffle around on your knees.

"Clean me, whore. Every inch." His hand is wrapped delicately around the base of his cock, his pinkie pressing against the thick patch of dark pubic hair which covers the skin there. "Miss even a millimetre and I'll take a switch to you so harshly that your master will have a hard time fixing the damage."

Shuddering at the threat, you dip your mouth forward and take his cock between your lips. The immediate taste of your own juices mixed with his release hits your tongue and it isn't the worst thing ever so you hum contentedly as you set your tongue to quick work; curling around his length and slurping along the shaft as you clean him diligently.

"I'll be using this cunt again before you leave."

You pull free of his cock to reply as a flush overtakes your cheeks at the unexpected vulgarity. "Yes, sir."

And without sparing a second glance in your direction, Crane tucks his wet cock back in his slacks, turns on his heel and disappears back through to the main workroom. His release trickling free of your abused cunt, you cup your hand across your sex and enjoy the heat of the skin against your palm. Your clit throbs beneath the heel of your hand and the temptation to grind into it is wicked.

Approaching footsteps make you flinch, and you quickly snatch your hand away and return to work, pulling your skirt from your back to its original state before rapidly wiping messy circles across a fresh patch of flooring.

“Working hard, pet? Good. I expect no less.”

Warmth alights in your chest as you look up to see Edward looming over your prone position. His dark slacks have an obvious bulge, and you crawl towards him obediently and without insistence, hands fumbling with his zipper to release his cock as he continues speaking.

“Good girl.” He praises quickly, a smile stretching his lips as you pump your hand along his cock. His green shirt is stained with grease and the scent of oil is strong against your nose. “Crane seems pleased with whatever performance he expected from you. Again, not that I expected any less. Your diligence towards your training shows.”

“Thank you, Sir.” You answer, enjoying the familiarity of his cock in your hand as you tease and please him in the ways which you know he loves – ensuring to keep your focus on the ultra-sensitive head of his cock and maintaining a firm pressure on the length as you stroke him down to the thick patch of pubic hair which cushions his groin.

Before too long, his breathing grows harsh and his hips move to buck his cock within your grip, both telltale signs that mean he’s almost ready for his release – signs that you had long since grown accustomed to as his cock remained buried deep within your throat or ass.

“Open your mouth.” He demands and you do so in an instant.

His hand replaces your own as a stuttering groan slips free of his lips and you jump in surprise as his release splashes across your mouth; thick ropes of cum landing across your tongue as one drips across your lower lip. The taste of him is quick to fill your senses and you allow your mouth to hang open until he’s quite finished and has slipped his softening cock back within his slacks.

“Now clean yourself up, pet.”

Swiping your tongue across your lower lip, you pick up the mess there and swallow it down without hesitation. A choice which earns you an approving grunt as his hand drops to press along your head, almost in the way that someone would pet a dog.

“Keep it up and my reward will remain will within reach.”

x-x-x-x-x

Kitchen complete and looking cleaner than you suspected it had been in some time, you soon move through to the living room without much difficulty. The only slight pause in your work came after finishing your thorough scrub of the floor and taking a much-needed bottle of water from the nearby fridge. You were thankful for the chilled water because you had a feeling you would be needing the extra hit of fluid before the evening was over.

The main room was cleaner than the kitchen and the difficulty mostly lay in trying to wipe-down between all the nooks and crannies of Crane’s various pieces of equipment. Some were dustier than others and moving around them required a level of focus that you were struggling to maintain.

Your earlier drink of water has washed the taste of Edward from your mouth, but your cunt still feels the sting of its earlier use, a sensation made worse by the constant standing and kneeling which was necessary for your domestic duties. The only benefit of having moved on to this space is that you can clearly see both men standing on the other side of the room as they continue their business.

Wiping the damp cloth across the table, your eyes dart over to both men as they remain huddled over some metal contraption which means nothing to your ignorant eyes.

A crash of glass makes you jump in place, and you whirl back to the table just to notice that one of the small glass beakers which was placed precariously close to the edge of the table is missing. A quick glance down confirms the mess, the tapered tip of the beaker having broken off and smashed in half just next to the base.

"Well, well, well…" Edward disappointed voice rings out from across the room and you straighten your spine against it, even as your head falls submissively to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Sirs, this toy didn't mea-"

"What you meant to do is irrelevant," Edward interrupts, his hand wiping itself off on his dingy white vest, "but what you did is make a mess. The exact opposite of your purpose here."

Remaining silent, you bow your head further to show just how sorry you were as a creeping suspicion that you had been set-up crawls along your spine.

"Doctor Crane?"

"Yes, Edward?" Crane joins the conversation smoothly, resting his weight on his good leg as a sadistic delight smooths across his twisted features.

"Since my toy saw fit to harm your property, I feel that an equal payment is due in kind. Please show our," Edward pauses, "what did you call her? Ah, yes, little rabbit, how carelessness is rewarded in this life."

"Of course." Crane croons in his deep tenor and a shiver runs through your skin as you realise that his punishments are unknown, nothing like those you were familiar with Edward doling out.

"And Crane?"

"Yes?"

Edward said nothing but his glance was particularly hard in such a way that you know something unspoken had passed between them.

Crane's movements were light as he approaches. His costume flutters with the subtle movement and your gaze settles on his shoes as you remain still. However, a hard grip on your chin forces your head up as you lock eyes with his milky gaze.

"Your master insists that I refrain from the use of my toxin as a punishment."

A shudder of relief rolls through your shoulders and Crane's features harden slightly as he notices it.

"For now, I should say. I have explained to him how such an experiment can be conducted safely, and he has asked for slightly more data which is easily provided. You will taste my toxin yet, whore."

His thin lips curl into a cruel smile, a determined smile, and you can hear the truth in the words.

"However," Crane continues, "his interference has meant that I am reduced to more physical forms of punishment. Go to your master and collect the switch."

Fear laced with arousal pools deep in your gut.

The dreaded switch.

Edward's punishments were not typically physical, his preference for predicament tasks and pinpoint orgasm control making the need for corporal punishment a less attractive option. But they weren't unknown and of all the various impact toys he introduced you to, the sharp sting of the switch was not among those that you could say you liked.

Padding over to where Edward is standing, he points wordlessly to the wall behind him, and you see the switch standing upright against it. You pick it up and quickly return to Crane, handing him the thin wooden stick and watching as he quickly tucks it beneath his armpit.

His hands, as steady as a surgeon, make quick work of your shirt - ripping the buttons free as they skitter across the floor with a tinny sound. Gooseflesh breaks across your skin at how cool his fingers are as he gropes at your tits with a methodical brutality; squeezing with a full palm before zeroing his attention in on your peaked nipples, a vicious pinch between his thumbs and forefinger making you whimper.

"A very soft little thing." He muses in a gravelled voice. "Malleable."

Remaining silent, you take the unexpected examination with shuddering breaths as arousal and shame swirl through your thoughts while he takes the shirt from your upper body and dumps it unceremoniously on the floor.

"Turn around."

"Yes, Dr Crane."

Turning, you face the opposite way and jump in place as his cold hands grab at your wrists to move them against the wall you were now facing.

"If these hands move from this position, then I'll double your punishment for disobedience." He warns, rolling the hem of your skirt between his fingers before tucking it in to the waistband – fully exposing your ass as much as your back.

"Yes, Sir."

"Ten was the agreement set out by your master so let's not disappoint him. Count them out."

CRACK

The first blow catches you across the upper back in such a way that the sting of it makes your upper half curl in place. It's like a flick of lightning, carving its way across your exposed skin for a moment of sharp pain followed by an unpleasant throb as you couldn’t rub at the affected area.

"One." You answer steadily.

He's cruel in his delivery of the next two strikes, swishing the switch with a surprising level of force and ensuring that he hits fresh skin across the middle and lower parts of your back. The second hit you took with a grunted count of two, but the third drew a soft yelp of discomfort as your face screwed up in pain.

"We're only on three, little rabbit. Surely Nygma wouldn't play with a toy this easily broken?"

CRACK

“Four!” You cry out, flinching hard as this blow land across the back of your upper thighs, the sting there even worse than your back. He follows up with another two, quick blows and they both lash across your exposed thighs as a high-pitched cracking noise rings out across the quiet workspace.

There’s very little pleasure to this pain and the sudden intensity of it brings tears to your eyes as your palms tremble against the wall. Your thighs feel like they’re on fire and you wouldn’t be surprised if the welts were already visible from the sheer force which Crane seemed to be putting into the hits.

“Six.” A stuttered whimper.

Ready for a new target, you feel the tip of the switch tracing across your ass, and you tense in preparation of the hits to come. Again, he’s sadistic in his delivery of the next three blows. The first cracks across your ass with a sharp pain that draws a yowl of distress from your lips, one made worse by the continuing throb of your back and thighs. Crane then waits, long enough to ensure that the pain of the hit was beginning to ebb before delivering the next.

Knowing that Edward was watching, you call out the numbers of each strike of the switch – the ninth call coming out as more of a cry than an easy distinguished number and your knees shake with the effort of keeping your body absolutely still, knowing that Crane will add another ten if he sensed any hint of disobedience.

“Only one left, little rabbit.” Crane calls out, his voice laboured with the effort of his hits. “Where should I put this one, I wonder? Edward?”

“Dealers choice. She hates corporal punishment, so I trust your judgment.” Edward’s unseen voice responds, and you can hear the amusement in his tone.

Standing with your hands and legs spread, the silence which falls fills you with an anxiety made even worse by the fact that you know Crane is seriously considering how best to use his final hit.

CRACK

A searing heat sparks up across your cunt as the switch collides with the sensitive, stinging flesh there which such a shocking intensity that your heels rock off the floor and an open sob of distress flees your lips as your teeth bite at your lower lip. Truly suffering, a fat tear rolls free of your right eye and trails down your cheek, tickling the skin there as your hands remain pinned against the wall and unable to wipe it away.

A looming presence behind you makes you tense as Crane drapes his taller frame across your own, the tent of his slacks pressing against your upper hip as his hand drops to run across the various heated welts which decorate your ass and thighs.

“You took that surprisingly well, whore.” He growls into your ear, pressing his fingers roughly into one of the raised welts as you whimper in kind. “I’m slightly disappointed that you held out so well. I was looking forward to painting that skin more thoroughly.”

He pulls away and you drop your hands from the wall, knowing that your punishment is filled, and your fingers shake terribly as they dip the floor to pick up your shirt. Pulling it on, you pause to fix your skirt but don’t bother to try and do the remaining buttons on the shirt as your hands are trembling too much to make such a thing possible.

With blurry eyes, the sharpness taken by the tears which remain, you watch as Crane walks to one of the nearby couches and deposits himself on it roughly. It’s an old-looking couch, worn and frayed around the edges where the fabric has been overused, and the tacky brown shade of it feels very old-fashioned.

“I am tired of helping you, little rabbit, and your discipline has stripped me of some of my energy. Come here.”

As obedient as ever, you walk over to him with soft footsteps, the heat of your abused skin flaring against your shirt with every step. Your eyes glance over to Edward only to see him bent over the work desk, his back fully to you as he tinkered with something mechanical.

“I will not waste more of my effort on you.” Crane announced, pinning you in place with his milky gaze. “You will come and fuck yourself on my cock until I am satisfied.” His hands were quick to release his cock as he spoke, his rock-hard length – the result of his enjoyment of your punishment – standing to immediate attention as he wrapped his fist around the base of it.

Despite your pains, your neglected cunt is wet as hell and you hike your skirt over your hip as you crawl onto his lap, carefully avoiding the metal leg brace as you try to find a position which won’t cause him any discomfort. His body feels very thin beneath your own but he manhandles you well enough as he adjusts his cock against your wettened slit.

He’s in no mood for foreplay and, knowing that your cunt was already stretched out from his earlier fuck, he pulls you down harshly to sink his cock fully between your folds. The sudden fullness draws a moan from your lips as he stretches you out in fell swoop and your cunt clenches around his length. After the pain of your punishment, a little pleasure wasn’t going amiss and you roll your hips across his lap, taking him as deeply as you could as your hands grip to the fraying fabric of the couch in a desperate attempt to chase some pleasure.

His costume is scratchy and uncomfortable against your welted skin, and you focus on the sensation of his cock as you bounce on his lap with a steady rhythm, fucking yourself as instructed.

Closing your eyes for only a moment, a savage pinch of your nipples forces them open as a yelp escapes your lips. His fingers are as rough as ever as he plays with your bouncing tits, pinching and groping at the skin until it’s reddened and extra-sensitive beneath his hands. The fascination he holds with your chest is unabashed and his slender fingers, scarred and hosting jagged nails, torment your skin with a sadistic precision.

“Enjoying yourself, whore?”

Startling at the suddenness of Edward’s voice in your ear, you unleash a short cry and your head tilts back to meet him as he continues.

“Don’t stop on my account. In fact, let me join you.”

His cock brushes along the cleft of your ass and you shiver in anticipation. As part of your preparations, he had insisted on a thorough cleaning but in the heat of the evenings events you had forgotten his earlier insistence.

A crack of a bottle rings out behind you and Crane seems content to remain buried within your cunt as he watches you interact with Edward with a subtle interest, gleaning what little aspects of your dynamic that he can.

Edward’s fingers press against the rim of your ass, and you can feel the coolness of the lube which coats them. He makes quick work of covering your hole before slipping in two fingers for a sudden stretch which takes your breath away. Anal was no stranger between the two of you but it was something which usually was graced with a little more prep and stretch time.

His fingers scissor within you and you tighten your hole around him, a move which draws a growl of pleasure from Crane as you milk his cock with every clench.

You relax as Edward’s fingers pull free and are quickly replaced with the blunted head of his cock pressing against your hole. In one quick thrust, he buries the first few inches within you and your body pushes forward, pressing against Crane as you’re forced to accept him.

It’s pain and pleasure in one; an intense fullness which makes your skin feel as though it’s going to combust as your holes stretch to accept and accommodate both cocks. Prepared enough to ensure no real damage, you were not prepped enough to avoid the hollowing throb of having your ass reamed out and the burning discomfort of your hole draws several small whimpers from your swallowing throat.

Your clit remained woefully neglected, the small sensitive button feeling as though it were aching with its utter lack of attention.

“My work is finished.” Edward grunted, maintaining a rhythmic pace with Crane as their cocks moved in tandem. “Your new leg brace is fully functional and ready for use.”

“Is it coated as requested?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. I will ensure that payment is included in the usual account. As discussed, there is room for a bonus if you would allow me my own session with your little rabbit.”

“Provide me evidence that you won’t break her in the ways I don’t want her broken and then we’ll see about booking an appointment with the good doctor for a private session.”

Both mean speak conversationally, if a little strained, as they continue to fuck and talk about you as if you weren’t there. It’s humiliating and the shame only adds to the hot pleasure which is sweeping across your spine and making your clit throb.

With a vicious growl, Crane indicates for you to move off his cock and you slip him free of your cunt while allowing Edward to continue to thrust against your ass. Fisting himself in hand, Crane’s breathing is erratic as he strokes his cock rapidly, chasing his peak. He hits it after a few moments, his release arcing across your exposed chest as one particularly energetic drop of cum lands as high as your chin, feeling warm against your skin.

He continues to stroke himself through the aftershocks of his orgasm, visibly pleased with having painted you with his release, as his gravelled voice makes more demands of you.

“Leave the mess. I want you to wear the rewards of your services until you’re out of my sight.”

“Yes, Sir.” You stutter out, cunt feeling empty and suddenly neglected by the loss of his cock.

With a careless grunt, Crane pushes you off him to the side as he slinks out from his position beneath your sweat-slicked and cum-stained frame. Luckily, Edward’s grip of your hips was so intense that it didn’t matter much to him as he bent you further over the couch and only fucked you harder as Crane slipped off to inspect his new leg brace.

“Have you come yet, pet?” Edward grunts, the fingers of the hand which isn’t currently pressing into your hip trailing across the welts which decorate your ass.

“No, Sir. Of course not.” You pant out, arching you back to give him easier access to your ass as you carefully bend in such a way to not disturbed the mess of cum which is splattered across your chest.

He hums at your answer and a low scream slips free of your lips as his fingers stroke along your cunt, brushing against your swollen clit like a bolt of pleasurable lightning. His touch is soft and teasing, perfectly circling the sensitive bundle of nerves as he coats his fingers in your juices before returning to your clit.

Demented with the sudden onslaught of pleasure, your orgasm approaches like a freight train and your limbs tremble against the effort of keeping yourself bent over as he expertly pulls you to your peak. Incoherent pleas spill from your lips and your ass clenches around his cock with every thrust.

With a muted cry, your release hits as the tight band of arousal which has been tightening across your groin snaps into a glorious bliss of intense pleasure – the culmination of your various uses and abuses comes to fruition as Edward presses his thumb roughly against your clit to quickly force you into overstimulation. Your vision blurs dangerously for a moment and you feel his body shudder against your own as your desperate clenching pushes Edward over the edge, his release hitting just a few moments after your own.

Overstimulated as he takes out his orgasm on your clit, your scream is low and guttural as every nerve seems to alight across your body. Edward cares little for your plight and you feel the heat of his release painting the inside of your ass with a scorching heat as he rides out his own pleasure.

“Good girl.” Edward pants out and you smile despite everything. He very rarely spoke while fucking, often reserving his long speeches and humiliating praises for the before and after, so you drink in this little change like a woman starved.

Edward pulls free of your ass with an obscene noise that makes fresh heat flare in your cheeks. His hands are quick to wrap around your waist and pull you to your feet, a movement which makes some of his release leak free of your ass and down your thighs as you lean back into his familiar and comforting frame.

“Remember,” he mutters into your ear as his face nuzzles against your sweat-slicked neck, “don’t touch that mess on your chest or I’ll have to let Crane have his way with you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You look beautiful like this. Fucked out, marked up, and coated – inside and out - with the rewards which you worked so hard for.”

“Thank you, Sir.” You shudder out, enjoying the sensation of his lips on your neck as the adrenaline of your night catches up with you and envelopes you in a fatigue which makes your legs feel like jelly as a slight nausea touches at your throat.

“Let’s go.”

Supporting your body with his own in a possessive way, neither Edward not Crane spare each other another glance as Edward makes to leave. Your skirt is a mess, crumpled and stained by various releases, and your shirt is ruined. However, it’s only a short walk to the car and you know there’s a coat in there which can cover you as you return down to Edward’s own workspace.

As Edward pushes the door open to allow you to pass through, the last thoughts which touch at your mind as you finish up your hard session is to wonder just how much data Edward will need before he lets the Scarecrow play with you once more.

(will upload to AO3 this weekend)

#riddler #scarecrow #jonathan crane #edward nygma #edward nashton #riddler x reader #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x you #riddler x you #riddler x reader x scarecrow #gotham rogues #dc comics #jonathan crane x reader #edward nygma x reader #dr jonathan crane #scarecrow smut #riddler smut

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