#sin offerings

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Meaningless Offerings

Bring no more vain offerings; incense is an abomination to me. New moon and sabbath and the calling of assemblies— I cannot endure iniquity and solemn assembly. — Isaiah 1:13 | Revised Standard Version (RSV) Revised Standard Version of the Bible, copyright © 1946, 1952, and 1971 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. All rights reserved. Cross References: Exodus 12:16; Numbers 10:2; 1 Chronicles 23:31; Isaiah 66:3; Isaiah 66:23; Jeremiah 7:9-10

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Isaiah 1:13 in all English translations (for comparison)

[justana0kguy]

2024 JANUARY 14 Sunday

"Sacrifice or oblation you wished not, but ears open to obedience you gave me.

Burnt offerings or sin-offerings you sought not; then said I, “Behold I come.”

To do your will, O my God, is my delight, and your law is within my heart!”

~ Psalms 40:7-8a,9

[sems-diarie]

pro hero deku has a fleshlight of you. it’s off brand hero merch from some shady corner of his city. it had caught him by surprise, he hadn’t been looking for it.

well, izuku hadn’t been looking for a fleshlight with.. you on it. it’s a particularly tasteful design—he blames that, of all things, when he decides to slap some hundred dollar bills on the register and scurries away without making eye contact with anyone.

(that’s how much it cost, right? he might’ve left some over in change. izuku doesn’t really check until after he’s home and his pants have barely even collapsed to his thighs. and your printed tits bounce with every fucking stroke to the hilt, to his balls. izuku can’t tear his eyes off of your stickered, cute little face as he grinds down harder over the toy. humping down into it lets him see you better when he spreads his legs and fucks the well-lubed fleshlight like it really is you, his balls smacking lewdly with the filthy wet sounds. it’s less like he checks, and more like izuku stumbles into the price tag as he’s wiping a fat glob of cum off the god forsaken thing.)

snooping around where he shouldn’t be, katsuki finds it—used, dear god!—and threatens to tell you, their beloved, angel-dearest friend, about it every time deku does something to even mildly piss him off. deku cries :(

[nelkcats]

And they were roommates

After years of living on his own in the Infinite Realms, something strange began to happen to the retired hero. Every time Danny closed his eyes to sleep, a life that was not his own played in his head. And he began to see memories of someone who had passed away, from his birth to his death. That would be fine if he didn't remember the dreams in such detail.

Unfortunately when the first dream kept repeating itself continuously, and Danny investigated, he discovered that it was not a normal nightmare and was the life of someone real. Someone who wanted a closure.

Every time he woke up, he found himself feeling the same as in the dream. Which led him to do a couple of things: yell at Nocturne (who strangely had nothing to do with it), annoy Clockwork (who was definitely involved), and solve crimes that had been deemed "impossible", and bring them to an appropriate end.

The police were extremely confused when a note from "Sleepy King" was next to the evidence of a cold case. The truth is that Danny wanted to sleep, and the souls were extremely insistent about their 'unfinished business' that came to haunt him in his sleep.

Every time he cracked a case he earned a few hours of uninterrupted sleep or downright disturbing memories, but that wasn't enough. Unfortunately, it seemed that solving the cases was only attracting more souls, and he was starting to regret wanting to help. He had ended his life as a hero for a reason.

Usually his notes to the police would say something along the lines of "I'm doing this for me, not for you, good night" or some similar nonsense. The halfa was tired, very very tired, dreaming with memories wasn't fun or pretty, it was exhausting, the deaths made his skin crawl and his insomnia worse. He didn't want to relive the deaths of anyone else, but he had no way to scare away the souls.

When Martha Wayne showed up in his dreams showing him about a "court of owls" Danny made up his mind. This had to stop. He had been a hero but he retired. And it wasn't that he hated the souls, he just wanted to sleep, the mental exhaustion was too much.

So he did the stupidest thing possible: he hired Constantine (pretending to be a fairly normal human client, getting his attention after offering a lot of alcohol and some useless books from the Realms as payment) to make him a dream catcher or some wizard thing. All he wanted was something to help him sleep.

Constantine couldn't do that of course. The hellbazer was disturbed by the man with more than three hundred avenging spirits swarming. That was fucked up. So he offered him the only solution he could think of: inviting him to sleep at his house. A place where spirits could not pass without permission. It wasn't a permanent fix, but it would work for a while.

John had no idea why he was doing so much for a client (inviting him to his house? bold move), but the man looked so desperate, and he was fucking cute. If he could get an adventure or two out of it he wouldn't complain.

Constantine's guest bed felt like heaven to the halfa, despite being almost destroyed. Danny repeatedly thanked, and before they both knew it: they were roomies, lived in the same place, took turns cooking or cleaning, etc. They grew comfortable with each other to the point that Danny answered Justice League Dark's calls on a few occasions.

And well, if Constantine stopped rushing to find a long-term solution that was his business, and his alone, okay? Zatanna's comment asking when he got married was fucking out of place.

[a-dreamworld-fool]

I was looking for DD references and stumbled upon matt murdock from earth-65... had to get this out of my head

[torchickentacos]

i will always shout praises of bi4bi but given recent discourse I feel the need to say that I love bi4het too! I just love bisexuality in general in its many forms, and anyone who only likes it when it's 'queer enough' for them is biphobic. Bisexuals should be able to bring their LaMe CiShEt BoYfRiEnD to pride without being made to feel like spectators and outsiders to their own event.

[cravingforsweetsbooksandpurpose]

Currently thinking of an Angel AU where Sanji is one of Cupid's angels for the past 800 years. He makes people fall in love. And for angels of love to ascend, reincarnate or reborn they're given specific clients that he needs to fall in love.

But he has a problem. A mold problem. He only has one client left that he needs to fall in love. And it's the lone wandering swordsman with an odd memorable green hair. And no matter what Sanji does. No matter who he matches the swordsman with as every new lifetime pass, the man just never falls.

And so, as Sanji begrudgingly stands on the swordsman's grave alone, he swore that on the man's next life (11th) he will make him fall in love by hook or by crook.

[sheawritesstuff]

An Angel Needs Their Rings

[David x Angel]

[Fluff - 2224 words]

[May this serve as my official apology for the last fic... I'm sorry for hurting your hearts - There is no twist on this one and it's proper fluff the whole time, I promise <3]

David turned the car off and tapped the steering wheel with his thumb. He took a deep breath and sighed. Shoving one hand in his pocket, he pulled out the little red box. He held it in front of his face and ran his thumb over the gold letters engraved on the top. He could feel his heart beating hard and fast as he traced the outline of his lover’s initials. He popped the box open and marveled at the ring inside. 

“I hope they like it,” he mumbled to himself. He tilted it in his hand to watch as the light reflected off the gems embedded in the thick gold band. It really was a beautiful piece of jewelry - worth every penny. He closed the box again and held it firmly in his palm. “Now comes the hard part.” He put the box back into his jeans pocket and finally decided to leave the driveway. He hoisted himself out of the car, checked to make sure the ring wasn’t too obvious, and headed inside.

As soon as the door was open, he could hear Angel singing along to their favorite song. They belted every note, almost screaming the words. David snuck in, quietly kicking his shoes off and closing the door behind him. He wandered toward the sound and leaned against the wall at the perimeter of the room. He watched as they danced around the room with their makeshift hairbrush microphone. Their eyes were closed tight as they ran and jumped like they were giving the performance of a lifetime. 

Their shirt, obviously stolen from David’s side of the closet, almost completely covered the sleep shorts under it. They gripped the front of the oversized T-shirt and tugged at it during the dramatic moments, revealing small slivers of their stomach in the process. The fabric swayed with them as they danced across their carpeted stage. 

He smiled fondly and relished in the feeling of his core’s steady hum in his chest. A deep feeling of contentment seeped through his whole body, filling him with a soft warmth. The nervousness he left in the car felt like a distant memory. This felt good, felt right. More than that, it solidified the fact he was going to marry his Angel. 

The song ended and they finally opened their eyes to look at their surroundings. Angel breathed hard as they struggled to catch their breath and pushed their hair away from their face. They turned to move toward the kitchen and met David’s eyes. They froze in their tracks and stared like a deer in the headlights. 

“When did you get home?” Their voice was quiet and edged with concern. 

“Not too long ago. A few minutes, maybe.” David didn’t even try to hide his grin. “Why? Was there something I wasn’t supposed to see?” 

Angel glanced from the brush in their hand to their mate still leaning against the wall. The thought of throwing it crossed their mind, just to prove a point - but they didn’t. Instead, they sauntered up to him and motioned for him to lean closer. They got in close, placed one hand on the side of his face, and whispered, “You tell a soul and I will end you.” They lowered their voice to a cartoonishly raspy level and glared at him. 

David snorted, against his better judgment, earning a light smack to the shoulder. He struggled to make his face more serious but failed tremendously. He laughed from his stomach and pushed his back against the wall for support. Angel crossed their arms with a huff and tried to fight back the smile tugging at their lips. 

“I love you, you know that?” David muttered once he caught his breath. 

“But are you intimidated? Scared, even?” Angel asked, wielding the hairbrush like a weapon. David leaned in and kissed the top of their head. 

“Oh, I’m terrified, baby.” He tilted their chin up and kissed them properly. “Downright petrified. I’m shaking in my boots as we speak.” He kissed them again, slower this time. He pulled away and looked at them for a long moment, absolutely lovestruck. “I’m gonna go get changed, and then we can start on dinner, alright?” 

They shared one last kiss before David made the trek to the bedroom. For the sake of being careful, he closed the door behind him before pulling the ring box from his pocket. Holding it in the palm of his hand, he searched the room for somewhere his beloved wouldn’t find it. There were surprisingly few good places, seeing as they shared just about everything. After a moment of consideration, he carefully placed the box in the back of his underwear drawer under a couple pairs of boxers for extra safety. 

They were going to get married. Well, engaged first. But eventually, they would be married. David Shaw, alpha of the Shaw pack, was going to be a husband. Husband. The term made his head buzz. It didn’t give him quite the same rush as “mate” but it was close, and it was new. Lost in thought, he forgot he was supposed to be getting undressed. 

The realization that Angel would get suspicious if he took too much longer dawned on him. He quickly lost his work clothes and threw them in the hamper. He replaced them with a comfortable black tank top and a pair of soft sweatpants. He found Angel cuddled up on the couch with a blanket and their switch. He leaned over the back of the couch and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. 

“You took forever,” they whined. 

“I know. I’m sorry, Angel, I had to find my sweatpants.” He leaned closer to their ear with a smirk. “You know, the ones you really like.” He punctuated his sentence with a kiss to their jaw. The feeling sent a shiver up their spine. David chuckled and rested his chin on the top of their head. “I’m gonna get started on dinner,” he hummed. “Come sit with me?” It was equal parts question, offer, and request. 

Angel took a slow, deep breath as if they actually considered missing the chance to spend time with their lover. They clicked their tongue before turning off their switch and unwrapping the blanket from around them. They looked up at him and smiled. 

“Carry me?” They got up on their knees and turned around to face him. David put his arms out to catch them, a silent affirmative. They climbed up the back of the couch and onto him. They wrapped their arms around his neck and their legs around his waist like a koala grasping onto his front. He held their thighs in place to keep them from falling, though they’ve proven time and time again their own strength was enough to keep them on despite David’s best efforts. 

Once they arrived in the kitchen, David set Angel down on the counter so they could sit with him while he cooked. Pulling a saucepan and a tall pot from the cabinet, he began his work on dinner. He hadn’t planned on anything special today, just classic spaghetti for two. 

“Should I make meatballs too? Or just plain spaghetti?” David asked as he turned on the stove. Angel hummed for a second as they decided meatballs take too long. 

“Besides, the only meatballs I want are already in your pants,” they teased, waggling their eyebrows. David groaned and rolled his eyes but felt the familiar way his core lit up. They may be a menace, but they were his menace. 

“I can’t believe you,” he scoffed. He put the water on to boil and started prepping the sauce. “Tell me about your day, perv.” They moved their hands around wildly as they talked. They explained the new project they’re working on, the disaster that was the new burger place on the corner, and the infuriating interaction with that guy from accounting. They wandered off on several tangents throughout the riveting tale, but eventually got all the important information out. They ended the story with their jam sesh that was so rudely interrupted by their mate coming home. 

“What about you, Davey? Did you do any cool alpha stuff today?” David told them about his security gig. It was easy, honestly kind of boring, but he walked through the day’s events anyway. The jewelry shop was conspicuously absent from his retelling. His story ended with the same recollection of singing and dancing.

“...and now I’m making dinner for my gorgeous mate.” He leaned over from his spot at the stove and kissed them. They sighed at him and tilted their head as they watched him put the finishing touches on the meal. They looked him up and down and savored the way his clothes clung to his body. David split the pasta into two bowls and spooned a generous portion of sauce on top. 

“Wanna grate some parmesan on top?” Angel nodded and held their hands open for the little block of cheese and the grater to go with it. They carefully sprinkled the cheese on top as David held the bowls steady. Once they were done, they set the grater down and hopped off the counter, taking the bowl with them. 

The two of them sat across from each other at the table and ate in comfortable silence. He stole an occasional glance as they slurped the noodles from the bowl. It was a messy strategy, but it worked… mostly. The downside was the sauce that splattered across the lower half of their face. After numerous attempts at guiding their napkin verbally, David reached across the table and wiped the sauce off their face. 

Once they were done, David took the bowls to the kitchen and put them in the sink. Angel found their way back to the couch and wrapped themself in the blanket again. David sat next to them and craned his neck to look at the screen of their switch. They tilted their head to look at him and smiled.

“Wanna watch?” He nodded and readjusted to give them room to sit with him. Angel moved between his legs and laid their back against his chest. He put the blanket around his shoulders and pulled it around to cover their lower half. He wrapped his arms around their waist and rested his head on their shoulder so he could watch them game. His hands slipped under the bottom of their shirt. Not to lead to anything else, just to feel their skin against his.

He listened as they rambled about the villagers in their new game and the different animals they had on their island. They explained their debt to Tom Nook and sang Isabelle’s praises as they walked David through everyone’s roles in the story. He loved hearing them talk about these things, even if he didn’t really care about the game itself. He loved feeling their voice vibrate through his chest. The feeling of his mate pressed against him made his heart sing. 

After who knows how long of running around their island and decorating and carrying on, Angel yawned. David hummed and squeezed their waist. 

“I think we should head to bed, Angel,” he said softly. He pulled his hands out from their shirt and tapped their thigh. “Come on. You gotta get up, baby.” They grumbled, but eventually got themself up and turned off the game. David folded the blanket and draped it over the couch before following them to the bedroom.

David laid down first and moved the covers to let Angel in with him. They climbed on top of him and slipped their hands under the hem of his shirt. In and of itself, that was not unusual. But then they slid further down his body and lifted the bottom of the shirt like they were going to climb inside it.

“What on earth are you doing?” David asked, grinning curiously down at his lover. They paused for a second and looked up at him. 

“I wanna be close to you,” They said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Laying on my chest isn’t close enough?” They shook their head dramatically and shoved themself under his shirt. They wormed their arms up his sides and behind his shoulders. After a bit of struggle and a little assistance from David, Angel’s head popped through the top of the shirt and they settled against his chest. They hummed contentedly as their face nestled against his neck. He pulled the covers back up and over the two of them and tucked it around their legs at his hips.

“You’re ridiculous,” he laughed. He pulled one arm up and gently ran his hands through their hair. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Angel.” They wiggled slightly, trying to somehow become even closer to the rumbling of his voice through his chest. David’s other hand rested on their back and rubbed gentle circles into their skin.

“Goodnight Davey. I love you.” Their voice was already heavy with sleep.

“I love you too, Angel. Sleep well.” He continued playing with their hair and rubbing their back until they both slipped into blissful unconsciousness. He was confident his slumber would be filled with dreams of love, adoration, and a fairytale wedding. 

[mickeym4ndy]

idk if I know how to put this into words but people who actually blame Mickey for everything that went down in season 3 are insane to me like that’s just so unfair. The person to blame for all that is Terry.

It was horrible for Ian to watch the person he loved marry someone else after being kept a secret for so long, and to not ask him to stay and everything obviously. his pain from the situation is very real and justified.

But also how can you watch that and think Mickey ever had the option to do anything different? He even says to ian “why you acting like i got a choice in this?” He never had a choice! He was never going to be able to avoid marrying Svetlana. There was no way out for him. To act like Ian’s pain was solely Mickey’s fault without taking the situation into account is just unfair. Mickey was a victim of the circumstances he was in, as was Ian.

imo it’s kind of similar to blaming Ian for how Mickey was hurt by Ian’s actions when he was manic in season 5. Ian wasn’t in control of himself. It was painful for mickey to experience yes, but you can’t say that was all Ian’s fault as if he did it intentionally or something.

they were both hurt by the others actions and that’s valid but honestly nothing could have changed what happened in either of those situations. it was all out of their control.

[miraculan-draws]

Amell bolstering warden ranks by continuing Duncan's legacy of conscripting only the unluckiest, meanest, almost deadest delinquents, hopping from chopping block to chopping block:

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

The Glory of the LORD Returns to the Temple

1 And he led me to the gate, the gate that faces eastward. 2 And behold, the glory of the God of Israel came from the way of the east. And His voice was like the sound of many waters. And the earth shined with His glory. 3 And it looked the same as the vision which I saw, even according to the vision which I saw when I came to destroy the city. And the visions were like the vision that I saw by the river Chebar. And I fell on my face. 4 And the glory of the LORD came into the temple by the way of the gate whose view is eastward. 5 And the Spirit took me up and brought me into the inner chamber. And behold, the glory of the LORD filled the temple.

6 And I heard Him speaking to me from the temple. And standing by me was a Man. 7 And He said to me, "Son of man, the house of Israel shall no more defile the place of My throne, and the place of the soles of My feet, where I will dwell in the midst of the sons of Israel forever; neither they, nor their kings, by their whoredom, nor by the dead bodies of their kings in their high places. 8 When they set their threshold by My threshold, and their doorpost by My doorpost; and the wall between Me and them, they have even defiled My holy name by their abominations which they have done. And I have consumed them in My anger. 9 Now let them put away their whoredom, and the dead bodies of their kings from Me, and I will dwell in their midst forever.

10 You, son of man, show the house of Israel the temple, so that they may be ashamed of their iniquities. And let them measure its pattern. 11 And if they are ashamed of all that they have done, the form of the house, and its arrangement, and its exits, and its entrances, and all its forms, and all its ordinances, and all its forms, and all its laws, make known to them. And write them before their eyes, so that they may observe all its form, and all its ordinances, and do them. 12 This is the law of the temple. On the top of the mountain is all its border, all around it is most holy. Behold, this is the law of the temple.

13 And these are the measures of the altar by the cubit. The cubit is a cubit and a span; even the base shall be a cubit, and the width a cubit, and its border by its edge all around shall be a span. And this is the upper part of the altar. 14 And from the base on the ground even to the lower ledge shall be two cubits, and the width one cubit. And from the smaller ledge even to the greater ledge shall be four cubits, and the width one cubit. 15 And the altar hearth shall be four cubits, and from the altar hearth and upward shall be four horns. 16 And the altar hearth shall be twelve cubits long, twelve wide, square in its four sides. 17 And the ledge shall be fourteen cubits long and fourteen wide in its four sides. And the border around it shall be half a cubit, and its base a cubit around. And its steps shall face eastward."

18 And He said to me, "Son of man, thus says the Lord GOD, 'These are the ordinances of the altar in the day of its being made to offer upon it burnt offerings, and to sprinkle blood upon it. 19 And you shall give a young bull for a sin offering to the priests the Levites, who are of the seed of Zadok, who approach Me to minister to Me,' says the Lord GOD. 20 And you shall take of its blood and put it on its four horns, and on the four corners of the ledge, and on the border all around. So you shall cleanse and purge it. 21 You shall also take the bull of the sin offering, and he shall burn it in the appointed place of the temple, outside the sanctuary.

22 And on the second day you shall offer a kid of the goats without blemish for a sin offering. And they shall cleanse the altar as they cleansed it with the bull. 23 And when you have finished cleansing it, you shall offer a young bull without blemish and a ram out of the flock without blemish. 24 And you shall offer them before the LORD, and the priests shall cast salt upon them, and they shall offer them up for a burnt offering to the LORD. 25 Every day for seven days you shall prepare a goat for a sin offering. They also shall prepare a young bull, and a ram out of the flock, without blemish. 26 Seven days they shall purge the altar and purify it; and they shall consecrate themselves. 27 And when these days are expired, it shall be that on the eighth day, and forward, the priests shall make your burnt offerings before the altar, and your peace offerings. And I will accept you,' says the Lord GOD." — Ezekiel 43 | A Faithful Version (AFV) Holy Bible, A Faithful Version © 2020 A Faithful Version. All Rights Reserved. Cross References: Exodus 12:7; Exodus 20:26; Exodus 25:25; Exodus 27:1-2; Exodus 29:1; Exodus 29:35; Exodus 40:34; Leviticus 1:10; Leviticus 3:1; Leviticus 8:15; Leviticus 9:1; Leviticus 26:30; Psalm 46:5; Jeremiah 1:10; Ezekiel 1:26; Ezekiel 10:19; Ezekiel 11:20; Ezekiel 16:61; Ezekiel 20:40; Ezekiel 27:5; Ezekiel 45:18; Mark 9:49; Acts 8:39; Hebrews 7:27; Hebrews 9:21-22; Hebrews 13:11; Revelation 1:15; Revelation 14:2; Revelation 18:1; Revelation 21:11

[wri0thesley]

need navia's strap exponetially actually

[forourtomorrows]

quick doodle

[neechees]

Hell, Crees also consider PLANTS to be sentient, spiritual beings. I know of several tribes (probably Crees too) that would sing mourning songs for trees & apologize to them when cutting them down to make tipis.

[brittlebutch]

actually it's kind of funny how people will say Alex's fatal flaw is that he 'doesn't ask for help' and that it's his determination to handle things on his own that leads to his deterioration and eventual death when his whole introduction to the present-day timeline was a very literal cry for help that simply went ignored

[tickly-tufts]

Entertainment (N$FW)

@tickles-tea ordered a MEAN serving of spice… so this one is for the hardcore 18+ knismos

—————

CONTAINS: bondage, nudity, non-consensual tickling, forced orgasm

—————

The Tickler.

He’d been knocked out and kidnapped by the Tickler.

Miguel had always known his luck was bad, but the multiverse had to be mocking him at that point. It’d looked like such an easy mission, too, which was why he’d opted to go alone… except this variant was no common thief. If only he'd realized before it was too late.

He didn’t know where the villain had taken him, but it must’ve been some kind of personal base. Heavy metal clamps had been locked around his limbs, raising his arms and spreading his legs into a kneel-like position. He was fully elevated off the ground, held slightly below his usual eye-level, and while his hands and feet were technically free, he couldn’t reach anything with his talons.

And as if all of that weren’t bad enough... he’d been stripped right down to his boxers. Lyla would never let him live this down… although, she'd have to reconnect with him first. Miguel felt a stab of unease at the thought.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, the Tickler making their official entrance. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting long! I was just gathering a few of my tools.” Miguel glanced warily at the bag in their hands, which they proceeded to set on a nearby table. Then they faced him, beaming brightly. It was as unsettling as it was irritating.

“Let me go,” Miguel snarled, flashing his fangs as a threat. Rather than being intimidated, though, his captor simply looked intrigued.

“And why would I do that?” they countered simply. “It was so much trouble getting you down here. But now I have you all to myself, and I intend to make the most of it~”

The tone in which those last words were delivered was almost enough to make Miguel shudder. Without his watch, his suit, or even his clothes, he knew he was in a dangerous position. Variants of the Tickler were generally just a nuisance, but this one had defied every convention thus far.

“What do you even want from me? Information? Ransom?”

“Entertainment.”

Of all the answers they possibly could’ve given… that one promised to be the worst.

—

The Tickler’s very first tools of choice were a pair of mini feather dusters. They fluttered them around Miguel’s neck first, pouting when Miguel refused to give in.

“Aw, don’t pretend it doesn’t tickle! I can see your mouth twitching. Being stubborn won’t help.” They scoffed when Miguel pressed his lips into a line. “Well, can’t say I didn’t give you fair warning.”

Miguel had hoped to hold out longer, but then the dusters were tickling right under his arms. The feathers were silky against his bare hollows. He promptly burst into a fit of giggles.

“That’s more like it!” the Tickler preened, speeding up when they noticed Miguel’s arms were shaking. “Those muscles aren’t doing much for you, huh? Sure made you look tempting, though,” they winked.

The feathers really shouldn’t have been that bad, and yet the light tickling soon proved to be maddening. Every fiber of Miguel’s being urged him to twist away, to just lower his arms… but the clamps held firm.

“Knohock it ohohoff!” he tried to growl, though the effect was ruined by his giggling.

“Hm? Did you wanna switch things up already?” The Tickler dropped both dusters… then dove in with their fingers.

“AGH!” Miguel choked, then burst into laughter, unable to resist the Tickler’s expert touch. Manicured nails scratched and skittered with glee, unhindered by the hero’s biceps straining above them. “Dohon’t- noHOHO!” The villain’s fingers vibrated against the center of each underarm. Just when Miguel thought to try and bite them, the Tickler’s hands migrated downwards.

“Bet your ribs are ticklish, too!” This was quickly confirmed with a few clawing motions. “But honestly… I’m more interested in these abs.” Miguel flinched when the Tickler’s fingertips trailed lower. He couldn’t back up, so he tried sucking in when the villain began tracing along said abs. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t help, and he flushed when he noticed the Tickler’s amusement.

The tracing didn’t last very long, as the Tickler inevitably escalated. Two hands were soon dancing across Miguel’s midriff, spurred on by the peals of laughter that followed. Nails sunk into his lower belly when the softness there proved especially exploitable. The accompanying taunts about his ticklish tummy only exacerbated his embarrassment.

Targeting his navel next, the Tickler teased a finger around the rim. “Oh, I’ve got just the thing for this!” they said as they reached into their pocket. Miguel blanched when they revealed a lone feather, smaller yet fluffier than those on the dusters. “Any last words?” the Tickler asked, the puff far more threatening than it should’ve been.

Miguel had been doing his best to ignore it, but anxiety began to creep up on him. His life didn't seem to be at any risk, but… how long would he have to endure this? Did anyone know that he’d been kidnapped? How would they locate him once they’d realized?

For better or worse, these thoughts ground to a halt as soon as the feather slipped into his navel.

“Shit!” Miguel cursed before falling apart, the feather tickling more than he’d dared to imagine. He felt every bit of it against his skin, absurdly soft and endlessly swirling.

“Sometimes you just can’t beat the classics!” the Tickler spoke as if making conversation. “There’s just nothing as simple yet effective as a feather. Don’t you agree, Spiderman?”

The tickling continued for a full minute, during which Miguel struggled to catch his breath. When the villain finally did step back, they didn’t take their implement with them.

“Gehet it ohohout!” Miguel squirmed, still overly aware of the feather’s presence. The Tickler simply gave it another twirl. “¡AY- BASTARDO!”

“Seems perfect where it is~”

With that, the Tickler happily moved on, forcing Miguel to cope with yet another indignity. Even just panting made the feather’s fronds shift, tickling enough that Miguel struggled to stop smiling.

“You’ve just got the cutest little waist,” the Tickler teased next, pinching Miguel’s sides. “And nice hips, too,” they continued, dropping down to give those a squeeze. “Ohh, you like that?” they observed when Miguel jolted at the action. He cackled when they dug into the dips, thumbs rubbing firm and relentless circles.

“Heh, I knew you’d be super ticklish. Got a sixth sense for that sort of thing. The second I saw you, I could tell you’d be fun… but somehow, you’re even more ticklish than I thought!” Against his best efforts, Miguel blushed, much to the Tickler’s obvious delight. Even worse, their gaze soon wandered down to Miguel’s parted thighs.

They reached out both hands to knead the thick muscles, grinning when they were rewarded with a screech. “Did I hit a sweet spot?” the Tickler mused. “Let’s see how loud you can really get~”

“¡MIERDA! NOHOHO!” Miguel writhed as the Tickler honed in on his inner thighs. They scribbled their way down to his knees, then lightly pinched a path back upwards. As they neared the top, they switched scratching, which proved ruthlessly effective. Then they slipped past the edges of his boxers, burrowing right into the creases of his thighs. “SHOCK! DOHOHON’T-!” was all Miguel managed, before he lost the ability to form words. The laughter that followed was nothing short of frenzied, and soon enough, there were tears welling up in his eyes.

The Tickler lingered there for what seemed an eternity, right at the edges of Miguel’s boxers. It was only when something new caught their eye that they stopped… then smirked openly. “Well, looks like someone’s getting excited. Are you actually enjoying this?”

Miguel’s face burned when he realized what they meant. Despite everything… he was getting hard.

The physical response was involuntary, of course. Almost unavoidable, which the Tickler knew. The captive hero’s humiliation was a treat, though, and they fully intended to savor it. Following the outline of Miguel’s cock, the Tickler started teasing him through his boxers.

“No!” Miguel gasped, trying to jerk backwards, but there was simply no getting away.

It tickled more than it had any right to. His boxers might’ve even made it worse. The villain’s fingers slid over the material with ease, skimming ticklishly along his length.

“Stohohop! STOHOP!” he ordered frantically, unable to resist the stimulation. It would’ve been nice if it weren’t a blatant violation… and it was only going to get worse.

“Alright, that should be enough for now.” The Tickler withdrew sooner than expected. But then, before Miguel could relax, they pulled out a small blade and slashed right through the fabric. Just like that, Miguel was exposed, his only scrap of clothing falling off in tatters. “Time for some attention in the back!” Miguel’s heart plummeted in his chest.

Skipping out of Miguel’s line of sight, the Tickler soon whistled appreciatively behind him. “And I thought the view from the front was great. Ever think of modeling instead of being a hero?” What came next should’ve been predictable, yet it still managed to catch Miguel off guard. Fingers pinched playfully at his ass… and because everything was against him, even that tickled.

“Was that a squeak?” His captor sounded gleeful. “I was so hoping you’d be ticklish back here!” Then hands were massaging both his cheeks, and Miguel could only cackle through his mortification.

It was ridiculous, humiliating, and only got worse when one of the feather dusters reappeared. Miguel couldn’t see it, but he could certainly feel it, laughter pitching higher at the soft sensation. The Tickler was thorough in their ministrations, dusting all over Miguel’s rear. They attacked from every angle, until inevitably-

“AH! Not there!”

Miguel froze, pure dread flooding in as soon as he realized his mistake. Deathly silence followed… tension building… with every second that ticked by. He was doomed. They both knew it. The suspense was entirely unnecessary. Even so, the Tickler made him wait…

Until the feather duster was right between his cheeks.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle!” The villain taunted as Miguel exploded into helpless hysterics. They used one hand to spread him further while the other continued wiggling the duster. The motion was overwhelmingly ticklish, enough for the tears in Miguel’s eyes to spill over. They rolled down his face as he wrenched at his bonds, unable to find even a second of relief.

Miguel’s composure collapsed further when the feathering migrated towards his front. Sliding down his cleft and across his taint, it was clear where the Tickler was headed next. They took a quick detour at his thighs, just to goad him that much more. It was only when Miguel was ready to snap that the duster finally settled over his cock.

“¡PUTA MADRE!” he swore violently, before mirth fully overtook him. Feathers enveloped his testicles, along with a good portion of his shaft. It was then that the second duster returned, fluttering directly over his head. With that, his whole length was nestled in softness, ticklish plumes caressing every inch.

“Such a feather-ticklish cock~” the villain cooed over Miguel’s anguish. “I could just stay right here forever~” They wiggled the dusters even faster.

“SH- NOHO-!” Miguel struggled to speak, to say anything that might earn him a reprieve. “P-Plehehease!” he finally cracked, too flustered to maintain the illusion of pride.

“What was that?” The Tickler lit up. “Could you say that again for me, Spiderman?”

Begging felt like giving up, but what choice did really he have?

"Please!" he repeated in English first, and when that wasn't enough, he fell into Spanish. "¡Por favor, no puedo más!" Each appeal was an uphill battle through laughter. The Tickler basked in his desperation, drawing it out until they were satisfied. "Well, since you asked so nicely, I suppose we are due for a little break."

Little proved to be an understatement. It couldn’t have lasted more than a few moments. Once Miguel was no longer on the verge of passing out, the Tickler resumed, focus still between his legs. Embarrassingly, Miguel was erect, the array of feathers having done their job.

“How rude of me, leaving you like this… It’s only right that I finish what I started.”

Miguel didn’t like the sound of that at all.

The Tickler turned toward the bag they’d brought, rummaging around inside for a bit. “Ah, here we are!” They spun back around… donning a pair of sleek, furry gloves.

“Don’t-“ Miguel’s voice shook. “Please… don’t.”

With a terrifyingly innocent smile, the Tickler reached down and started rubbing.

Miguel shrieked. That was the only word for it. Every touch of the gloves tickled like hell. Every stroke and fondle was accompanied by fur, equal parts titillating and torturous.

“This material’s actually an invention of mine,” the Tickler admitted casually. “I designed it to be soft, exactly as instructed, but all our testers said it was unbearable on skin.” The Tickler circled the tip of Miguel’s cock with a single fluffy finger. “They were right, of course, but I’d put in so much work. I couldn’t just let it go to waste.”

Eventually, just as promised, Miguel came in spite of himself. The Tickler didn’t halt at all in their motions, rubbing Miguel through his moaning, sobbing laughter.

“Fun fact,” they announced once Miguel was spent. “Sensitivity tends to spike right after an orgasm.”

Miguel couldn’t keep himself from trembling, cock still resting in the villain’s gloved palm.

“Please… there has to be something else you want…” Something, anything beyond making him suffer.

“Aww, poor thing,” the villain commiserated, before their smirk returned in full force. “Unfortunately for you, this is all I want, and we still have so many toys to try. Now, cry pretty for me, alright?”

Miguel let out a broken whimper.

—

Spiderman did not kill. No matter the villain, no matter their actions, killing was simply not on the table. Peter B. Parker knew that, of course. It’d been his policy for over 20 years.

Even so, he had to remind himself before hurling the Tickler through the nearest wall.

“Miguel!” Peter shouted once the villain was down, concern overshadowing everything else. When he’d arrived, the Tickler had been raking at Miguel’s thighs with clawed finger caps. By all accounts, Miguel should’ve screamed. The treatment was certainly brutal enough. Instead, his agony had been near silent, made evident only by a fresh stream of tears.

“Por favohohor… noho mahahás… Plehehease…” Miguel babbled, shivering in his restraints. At first, Peter assumed he was feeling aftershocks, only to realize his torment wasn’t actually over.

Vibrating brushes had been strapped to his soles, centered just enough to avoid his toe talons. Peter pulled them off, crushing both in his hands, then returned to Miguel’s front, gaze dropping low. He winced as he eyed Miguel’s weeping cock, two buzzing egg vibrators taped to the shaft. He took a steadying breath before crouching down, removing every bit of it with care.

After that, Miguel calmed, visibly sagging with relief. Peter reached out to cradle his face, only for Miguel to flinch away. “Migs, it’s just me…” Peter’s voice wobbled, his heart tightening in his chest. Fortunately, the nickname seemed to spark some awareness, and Miguel began to recover himself.

“P… Peter?” he croaked weakly, watery eyes coming back into focus.

“Yes! I’ve got you!” Peter pressed in close, wiping Miguel’s tears away with his knuckles. “I’ll have you out of there and back home soon.”

True to his word, Peter freed Miguel quickly, then wrapped his own robe around Miguel’s body. As soon as Jess acknowledged his ping, he left the villain for her, out cold and webbed-up. Tapping his watch, he opened a portal directly to 616B. When Miguel’s legs refused to cooperate, Peter scooped him up and carried him through.

—

Waking back up was a gradual process, made more difficult by pure fatigue. Nonetheless, Miguel persisted, drawn forth by the gentle hand in his hair. When he eventually opened his eyes, a soft sky blue was there to greet him.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” MJ murmured, her smile an absolutely breathtaking sight. Her hand moved carefully from his hair to his cheek, and Miguel instantly leaned into the contact.

“How long was I…” Unconscious? Captive? Miguel wasn’t sure which he wanted to ask. Without missing a beat, MJ answered both questions, frowning as she recalled the worst of it.

“You were missing for all of yesterday… then Peter got you home around 4am.” MJ had stayed up waiting for them, of course. “You’ve been asleep for around 10 hours.”

At that, Miguel attempted to sit up, only to discover he was being held down. Peering over his shoulder revealed a slumbering Peter, one arm and one leg slung over Miguel’s form.

“He was really worried,” MJ explained. “Didn’t tell me much, but…”

“You saw how I was.”

MJ’s brow furrowed, her own worry clear, but Miguel knew she wouldn’t ask until he was ready.

"Wanna see Mayday?" she asked instead, offering him the balm of domesticity. It made him feel warm... and more importantly... safe.

"I'd love to," he accepted gratefully.