#shackled feet
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Sleeping shackled and chained is a bit of an acquired taste but it is also a very amazing feeling of total surrender and obedience.
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HE'S GONNA STEAL--NOT JUST YOUR HEART--BUT EVERYTHING YOU OWN AS WELL!!!
#chrisrin doodles#grian#mcyt#persona 5#hermitcraft#i should probably come up with a name for this au?#anyways GRIAN!#i didn't have a firm persona in mind for him#but i was thinking about maybe someone like artful dodger?#from oliver twist#ill be frank i know nothing about the novel#i was just looking last night for famous thieves but specifically like#very sterotypical pickpockets/classic thieves#not very gentleman-y at all#he's probably a wind user#super quick on his feet#he does not have a gun he just throws explosives#if youre wondering about his outfit i think it's VERY fitting for grian to have his ideal version of 'rebellion'#be literally like. a petty robber who causes absolute chaos#he still has his shackles on#theyre broken#he just got out of jail#he's going to rob another bank#he's going to be a Fucking Menace#and no one can stop him#his codename i think would change every single time#scar just calls him something new every time they go in#and the rest of the thieves just roll with it
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saw this tweet n thought of u... i think it's the jill
IM HOWLING CRESSIE!!!
unironically this is how i feel when i get on here and start talking about jill and leon
#delphi mail#theyre the same but different dont you see#their motivations are the same they love justice and helping people#its just that leon is disillusioned in his ability to do good because hes shackled to a system that turns him into a weapon#and jill has literally been turned into a weapon against her will and#twirling my hair kicking my feet idkkkk i just think its cute
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The emotional burden I am going to have to carry with me until s2 because of this scene
#it will be like bowling balls shackled to my feet.#i am so excited#wenclair#enid sinclair#wednesdays addams#wednesday spoilers#heron talks
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Cursing and swearing rn cos i wna draw but i hav exams but i wna draw BUT I HAVE EXAMS BUT I WANT TO DRAWWWWW
In the end ive done neither
#GOD REST MY SOUL I AM FAILING NEXT WKS EXAMS#MY GRADES RNT GNA B THE ONLY THING 6 FEET UNDER SOON#that was a joke i promise#mostly#GUYS I JS WNA DRAW THE SKRONKLES AND THE PATHETIC MEOW MEOWS IDW TO LOOK AT HYPOTHESIS TESTING OR DIFFERENTIATION AND INTEGRATION ANYMOREE#delete when i m free from the shackles of the education system that clips the wings of my creative freedom and forces me to funnel#my entire life force on these asinine topics which ill never use in real world contexts and forges me into a mindless zombie memorising#the endless droll that is the current syllabus soon enough i shall become a soulless machine workin a 9-5wondering how it cld hav been diff#...#the drawing withdrawal hit me hard today
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Fic Excerpt
Jin-Chul carefully considered his next words. “I’ve known quite a few S-ranks and while they were more able to handle situations than others, there were still things that affected them. I don’t know what you experienced in that rift, but I don’t think it could leave you entirely unaffected if you spent a week in there.”
“Do I look injured to you?” Sung asked quietly.
“I’m not asking after physical injuries.” Jin-Chul had practically never seen Sung injured save on two occasions.
Sung didn’t look at him, eyes on the numbers counting down to the ground floor. Jin-Chul almost didn’t think he’d answer until he did, voice so quiet only his enhanced hearing caught it. “Do you think sleep is necessary?”
Jin-Chul blinked. “…Yes?”
Sung’s mouth tilted in a small smile. “So did I.”
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she magnus on my archives til i institute
#✧ gerard keay. ic / dying isn’t so bad. it’s staying dead that sucks.#✧ gerard keay. musings / every night i burn waiting for the world to end#✧ gerard keay. visage / and like the blade you stain well i’ve been holding on tonight#✧ gerard keay. headcanons / as he fell away for the final time‚ he felt that all-consuming fear#✧ jonathan sims. ic / and at last‚ the archivist looks up#✧ jonathan sims. musings / i refuse to become another goddamn mystery#✧ jonathan sims. visage / he’s all eyes. he’s all eyes.#✧ jonathan sims. headcanons / you wear guilt like shackles on your feet. like a halo in reverse#+ martin but his tags are already on here lmao#these are NOT going to save. oh well
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No steps, but long strides.
Using crutches is a wonderful way of restraining your slave at home. I can get around but not for a second do I forget that I am owned, that I am property, treasured, looked after, safe and secure. It is a nice feeling. At the same time my feet are securely locked yet I can get around with ease and comfort. A pair of handcuffs and I am grounded.
If the feet are to be secured all day, it is useful to use padding. Classic slave shackles with two d-shackles and a bolt allow me to crutch around and to stand but with my feet secured rigid like this there is not even baby steps for me.
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SNORK FUCKING MIMIMI
#my day started at 11AM. ELEVEN. AM. let that sink in. and has just now ended at 3am. (three in the morning. am. 3am. three am.)#i am SLEEPY i cant feel MY LEGS#like we all got ready at 11am. we went to spoons breakfast. we pre'd until like 2/3#AND THEN WE WENT TO THE HORSE RACES! BC THERE WAS A STUDENT DAY THING! IT WAS SO FUN! MUCH BETTER THAN LAST TIME!#and we were there until like? 9? i think?#and then we come home to get our shit together. had a chinese. drank some more. and then we went to the club#and we stayed until close bc when i TELL YOU the dj did not play a single skip song#it was just banger after banger i think ive lost my voice#but oh my god my POOR LITTLE LEGS#I WAS IN HEELS THE ENTIRE TIME I WAS AT THE RACES#6/7 HOURS IN HEELS JUST TO TAKE THEM OFF TO GO CLUBBING??? OW#IM GOD'S STRONGEST SOLDIER TBFH#ALL THAT WAITRESSING DID ME GOOD APPARENTLY MY FEET ARE STRONGER THAN SISYPHUS ON THEIR OWN#FUCK THAT ROCK BOY#ow. ow ow ow. but it was such a good day so idc. i met a guyyyyy <3#i also fucking body checked this one girl and i feel a bit bad bc she was so clearly having her teen coming of age moment in the club#like white girl dancing hands over her head twirling etc. unfortunately for her AND ME that involved bumping into me repeatedly#and like? she kept turning to us to try make us dance with her but me and my mates were having a lot of fun in our little trio so we didn't#which yeah maybe that was mean but tbh if someone did that to me id take no for an answer the first time instead of repeatedly doing it#like she was acting like she was empowering us and freeing us from the shackles of insecurity when rlly we were just like girl no#and she WOULD NOT GET THE FUCK OFF ME like zero spacial awareness to her#the irony of clubs is like yeah obvs ur surrounded by people but it's also looked down upon if ur seriously in someone's space#so i just wasn't having it and in the end i just fully fucking SHOVED her off lmfaoooo. sorry girlie <3#like i felt embarassed for her bc of it like she was so in her own little world and i absolutely ruined it but idc#be aware of other people and their comfort bitch!#anyway yeah it was very fun all in all <3#hella goes to uni
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someone tell me i'm doing a good job
#finished teaching my workshop class#im freed take the shackles off my feet#everyone enjoyed it i pulled that shit outta my ass
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thinking about an escape room but the twist is that if you don't get out in time, you're used by the entire staff until they're satisfied.
you know what you're getting into, of course. you sign the forms saying that the facility can't be held liable for any damages that happen to you. afterwards, you're stripped down and restrained. cuffs around your wrists behind your back as you're bent over a table, chains holding your ankles together. a collar is attached to your neck, connected in two places. one, to hold you still on the table. and the other connected to the ceiling with a lot of slack. you seem to be in a dungeon, iron bars blocking the unlocked exit.
you're left alone and the timer is placed immediately in front of you, counting down, minute by minute. right where you can see it. the restraints are firm and secure, but they each have their give, their weaknesses. the chains on your feet can be undone by looping it around the corner of the table and pulling at it at just the right angle. then you have to move your cuffed wrists behind your back and under your legs so you can use them.
the part of the collar connecting you to the table is dealt with by simply unhooking it, meaning you're able to stand up and move around the room. there's a box with a pile of keys for you to sort through. one of them must open the cuffs. one of them must unlock the bars. you sort through them in a hurry, adrenaline making your cuffed hands shake as you try each and every one of them, adding them gradually to the discard pile. once your hands are free, you fiddle with your collar. it doesn't seem to have any give. but while doing this, you see that on the other side of the iron bars is a bolt cutter, exactly what you need.
you're invigorated, trying all the keys on the bars as the minutes count down. your time is scarce, it's moving far more quickly than you're able to take into account. until finally, the lock clicks. the metal gate swings open and you can see the bolt cutter on the floor right in front of you.
except when you walk forward, the collar around your neck tugs you back. the tool is just out of reach. you can't get enough slack to pick it up. you try desperately, every option you can think of, to stretch your body out and try and kick the bolt cutter closer to you, desperately now as you see you only have three minutes remaining, then two, then one and a half.
until you finally remember the chains on your feet. you hurry back to the table, reaching under it to grab the chains and looking at the time left on the timer. 50 seconds. you hurry back to the iron bars, throwing the chains, trying to lasso the bolt cutter to finally get it in your grasp. and with 20 seconds remaining, the tool hooks onto the end of the shackles on the chains, and you desperately try reeling it in. 15 seconds, and you're pulling it closer, so very carefully. until finally, you reach down and wrap your hands around the tool and that's when your heart sinks.
it wasn't a bolt cutter. it was a toy. lightweight and useless, like something that would go in a child's tool set. and you realise: you were never meant to escape this. you never even had a chance. you had willingly walked into a trap.
your time is up and an alarm sounds, the lighting in the room turning red. the staff walk through the door, heading straight for you, cocks and straps and toys in hand, grins of delight on their faces.
they push you back onto the table and use you exactly how they want to, each and every one of them noticing how soaked you've gotten just from being in the escape room and playing this game, mocking you for what a slut you are as they take you without any preamble.
they use all your holes simultaneously, manhandling you into whatever positions they want. bending you over, taking you from behind. seeing how much can fit into you at once. slapping you about, spitting on you, spanking and whipping, passing you from one to another. never a moment for you to rest or recover before you're impaled on another cock.
all while their mocking voices taunt you.
this is what you were asking for when you came here. this is exactly what you were hoping for. to be used relentlessly. you never wanted to escape anyway, no matter what you'd say. you needed to be used like this. only sluts ever enter these escape rooms, and so you would be treated as what you were. willing holes for them.
once they've all had their turn, they take the toy bolt cutter and shove it into your used hole, fucking you with it slowly. it's too big and uncomfortable, but you stretch around it so easily after all that use. your arousal making it easy. you keep crying out, and they keep laughing. this was the thing you thought would set you free. this was your salvation for twenty minutes or so, all you cared to get. and now they were filling you with it. and worse than that, they were making sure you enjoyed it.
they bring you to an intense orgasm with the very thing you thought would save you. your mind is foggy and you can't think of much aside from the feeling of the toy inside you. you're burning with embarassment.
you came so close to escaping. you were so resourceful and clever about it all. but now you were nothing but holes for them to use until they decided they were done. all that intelligence you used to try and get out would leak out with your arousal as they continued to whore you out. your brain would never work the same once they were done with you. once they had reduced you to something so pathetic.
they aren't done using you. they won't be for a while. and you don't know if you ever want to be done serving them. this is where thinking got you, and now you were being put in your place.
#ftm free use#ftm ns/fw#ftm nsft#ftm cnc#cnc free use#free use cnc#trans cnc#trans free use#trans nsft#cnc kidnapping#t4t ns/fw#t4t nsft#ftm t4t#t4t free use#object insert nsft#object insertion.#mine
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Fic Excerpt
˪…are they stacking those bodies
˪who cares
˪I care. I need to know if giant shadows have some semblance of engineering knowledge. This is very important to me.
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There is a certain magic in taking away the feet.
Humans 'make a stand'.
Humans 'walk the extra mile'.
My feet are locked by my owner. When I get up in the morning, I get a short walking chain. My feet are used to keep me safe and secure. My feet are used to discipline me. I have to ask permission to cover them in socks and shoes. I have to ask permission to use them for walking. Having my feet taken away is an intense feeling of enslavement and an intense feeling of freedom from choice and decision.
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Depeche Mode - Halo “You wear guilt Like shackles on your feet Like a halo in reverse” https://youtu.be/WgWtJyZQSyE
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Simon forgets how strong he is
18+ MDNI - cw: bruising - ~700 words
just some Simon Riley NSFW brainrot ♥︎ - part 2-ish, and part 3-ish here!!
Simon forgets how to be gentle.
When he's at war, fighting and shooting and killing day and night, all he knows is hardness. Brutality. Ruthlessness. His hands and heart grow calloused and rough in his months away from you. Using his unfathomable strength to survive is what he grows used to, it becomes second nature.
But it's your softness he remembers, to keep himself sane. It's all he thinks about. Dreams of.
The way the flesh of your hips, your ass, your breasts, your belly, pillows so deliciously between his fingers when he squeezes his handful - so warm, so supple. The way your vanilla-balmed lips graze his scarred skin so tenderly, however undeserved your sweetness is.
And when he finally returns home, after months of missing, craving you - when you stand in the door, honey thighs bare by virtue of the black panties you wore just to torture him, soft tummy peeking out from under your crop-top - he just can't restrain himself.
You greet him with your sugary smile, stretching up on your toes to curl your loving arms around his neck - your gentle voice, music; "Si, ah! I'm so glad you're okay…"
The moment your velvet skin touches his, his shackles crumble. Like a beast starved, he clutches you. Mammoth arms curl around you, constricting, gripping you eagerly like you might be a dream; liable to turn to a memory, to smoke.
His avaricious embrace lifts your feet from the ground, though he doesn't mean to - he burrows his nose and mouth into the crook of your neck, lets the curls of your hair smother him and fill his chest with the faint scent of your fruity shampoo. Fights every urge to take a bite, like you're a ripe nectarine.
Growls into your skin, through his jaw; "I fuckin' missed you, love. Christ, you have no idea how much I missed you."
"I missed you too, baby…" you coo into his ear, even your breathing is tender - he can't take it.
So he ferries you immediately to the sitting room, scoops you up like you weigh nothing, lets you coil your buttery thighs around his waist as he sits you on his lap on the sofa.
His wide hands take their greedy handfuls of your body - of your waist, of your hips, of your thighs, of your ass. Finally indulging the impulses he had dreamed about for so long - the very image he had fucked his fist to more times than he could count while parted from you.
With his teeth on your shoulder, tongue laving your warm skin; "So fuckin' soft," he grumbles deeply, and urges, "pretty thing. So soft. Fuck, I missed you."
His cock is hasty to grow boulder-solid under his trousers, and he chastises himself - but you answer with a cloying giggle, grinding your mound against its rigidity as if to torment him.
"Mm, you did miss me," you tease, little brat.
Then in an instant, all he can think about is the softness of your syrupy pussy, the gumminess of the inside of your cunt as its walls caress and milk his cock like it was built just to fit him.
You make him fucking ravenous, so voraciously eager to have you that he doesn't even notice his hands turn to vices around your flesh - fingers burrowing so deeply into the cheek of your ass that he might break through the skin.
"Ah!" You yelp, "Ow - Simon - you're hurting me-"
Your squeak of pain is enough to immediately shatter him - so he rapidly lifts you off of him, protecting you from his impulse. Stands you on your feet so that you're no longer victim to his inability to control himself.
"Shit, I'm sorry-" he grunts under his breath, "I'm sorry."
"It's okay, it's-" Your brows curl in worry, turning to look at where he had clawed you - and he sees the purple bruises where his hand had wrenched the flesh of your ass, the red lines where his fingernails had nearly punctured you. "Oh," you breathe at the sight, "…wow."
Drowning in visceral shame, he can barely bring himself to touch you again. But your soft hand caresses his hair, running through the sandy tresses - you, somehow, the one to comfort him.
"It's okay, baby, I know you didn't mean to," you purr fondly, and he leans forward to shamefully press as soft a kiss as he can into the bruise he gave you. Fucking monster.
"I'm sorry," he croaks into your skin, hoping his guilt will reverse his barbarity. "I just missed you."
"I know," you croon, turning to plant a loving kiss into his hair. "It's okay."
You guide him to lean back, mounting his lap again, letting your pelvis grind against the erection you were quick to reawaken.
His hands barely ghosting over your skin, he restrains himself, touches you carefully.
You whisper, into his stubbled cheek; "I'll show you how to be gentle again."
#bet simon knows how to apologise to you#spoilers it involves his tongue#cod fic#cod smut#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x female reader#ghost x reader#call of duty smut
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Young Chelsea Captured in the Woods
#trapped#barefoot#stuck#toes#bare soles#feet#chained#no escape#straitjacket#kept#captive#gurney#shackled prisoner#where am i#wtf is going on#like wtf
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