Mae Merciless

@maemerciless.bsky.social

1426 Followers 418 Following

🔞 staring through your dollhouse windows 🥀 miniatures enthusiast 🔎 thirties, tall, size kink 🖤 linktr.ee/maemerciless my writing: archiveofourown.org/users/freckledirt/works

a screenshot of a discord conversation that reads as follows: unnamed person: are they like, roaches scurrying under the furniture or is she upset seh think he's fucking humans me: Like roaches don't @ me that it's hard to notice a roach under your dresser while you're fucking maybe someone sneezed you don't know!!! point is what if a blueballed pissed off giant anthro was coming after you because you ruined their night
black and white art of a woman (me) with a curly black ponytail, black nails, and a black tank top affixing a shrunken motorcycle to one of her earrings. a shrunken man, a couple of inches tall and implied to be the motorist, is dangling by his collar from the front of a black choker she is wearing. there is a second motorcycle visible in her other ear, but no second biker in frame. the woman's tongue is sticking out while she does this, and both her mouth and her eyes are smiling.
a tumblr screenshot reading "Mommy doesn't get it. Explain the joke. (in magenta text) Explain the joke for Mommy."
grum
a close up of the bottom of my foot on its side from the front.
a screenshot of a document with the following text: "I know, I'm so sorry," he said, an undertone of apology to his eyes. "But it would have been more of a shock if I did it while you were awake, wouldn't it?" He made a 'tch' sound at the look on Alys's face. "She asked me to test it myself so she knows it works for all of us, you wouldn't rather I surprise you in the middle of your shift, would you? I like to make things easy. You're the same, aren't you?" When he asked, the finger that had been stroking her cheek curled under her chin and pushed her gaze up to his, since it had drifted down to the fabric in front of her where her fists were balled and trembling. The genuineness of the affection she saw in his expression took her off guard. His eyes seemed to be a magnet for light, and the lamp behind him gave him an almost comforting glow. "My little flea," he sighed. "You will let me make this easy on you, won't you? It's only us here. Nobody's going to add to those bruises or scare you half to death. I don't think you even need to be any smaller than you are, this is perfectly precious. You're just a little taller than the palm of my hand, see?" He held his hand parallel to her, and sure enough, that was about right, she could just barley see above the spot where his fingers met. Four inches,
a discord screenshot of a bulleted list of thoughts about myself if I were made small
a screenshot from my post drafts that reads as follows: The People are always saying, "tiny girl sleep aid," and they're right, they're so right, but you do also have to contemplate "giant girl sleep aid." She can help too. She wants to help. Let her help? Let her help you sleep.
seen from the inside of a black slipper, a woman (who has probably had a long day) rubs a sore foot while sitting on a bed, stands up, approaches, puts on the empty slipper, and then slides a foot into yours.
a comparison chart of rice varieties of different lengths
a discord screenshot of a 1969 bob mackie dress with water pouring from it with the caption "you when Mommy's partner picks you up and walks you across her leg and imitates your voice to ask her if we can order pizza tonight". shared with permission, thank you lea.
brelly.
a pair of ceramic lavender lily earrings sitting in a decorative black claw hand jewelry holder on top of a dresser in front of a bottle of perfume and a jewelry box.
a new and already beloved plushie, Beekeeper Snoopy With The Basket
a low angle photo of a woman in a black turtleneck and brown bell bottoms and black below-ankle boots with thick heels, half crouched and leaning forward with the left sole exposed, in a small office
Still, they hadn't flinched by the time her fingertips slowed to an easy stop just at their side, watched so carefully. Iris could see them taking deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, visibly wrestling with their own nerves even as they set their entire trembling hand on the tip of Iris's ring finger. She felt her lip hanging softly open as she watched- felt Sylvia flex their hand against the ridges of her fingertip and stroke across it experimentally, eyes wide. That finger was longer than Sylvia's body. Iris could barely fathom it even though it was in front of her eyes now and had been in her imagination countless times before. "How are you doing?" Iris asked quietly. "I think I'm okay," they said low enough that Iris didn't think she'd have been able to understand if she weren't close enough to read their lips.
a screenshot from the video "Replicas & Miniatures | How It's Made | Science channel" showing a woman cleaning the windows of a scale model dollhouse
a close-up of my right shoe (a black chunky heel below the ankle) focusing on a couple of decorative buttons with visibly straining elastic cords around them.
lusamine pokemon making a dramatic anime villain grimace and yelling "all you did was betray me! you have no right to ask for my attention now!"
an owlet earring wearing a green scarf and holding a red cup with a yellow bow in their feathers.
greentext format post reading: ">telling mommy no are you insane"
This couldn't be happening. And yet, they felt the overwhelming force of a slow thrust pushing downward from above the body pillow, firm and steady, to the point that Sylvia felt a dull pressure through the soft barrier that decidedly did not come from a thigh. It pressed on them firmly enough that they had to stifle a squeak when it nearly immobilized them against the mattress surface. They clasped a hand over their mouth as it ground them into the mattress, eyes clenched and whimpers muffled as something rolled such pressure over their back that they felt their spine pop in a few, oddly pleasant places that did little to calm their nerves. The motion felt like a rolling pin back and forth over their back, disorienting and overwhelming to the point that at the very least, panic was held at bay. There just wasn't room for it. They felt more likely to pass out than start flailing and give themselves away, breath pressed out of them with every stroke. It felt like Iris was in no hurry, probably idly enjoying herself while trying to fall back asleep, nothing Sylvia hadn't done themselves plenty of times herself. They didn't hold this against Iris, it was the risk of her discovering them in this inexcusable position that haunted them, even as the casual rocking of her hips threatened to crush little Sylvia. They wanted to cry. They were beyond overwhelmed. It had taken so little contact with this colossus of a woman to push them to that point, too. Pushing their arms and legs to haul themselves forward felt more laborious with every second. They were suffocating, they realized. Once again, Iris pinned them down, and they felt their limbs burn as they failed to stifle a few gasping sobs. It didn't seem to alert her. Sylvia had never been more tempted to scream and give themselves away willingly, if the alternative meant a certain fate like this-
Once situated, Claire rested her chin on her folded hands on the floor, face just a foot or so away from the two-inch lady. As Claire reflected on the fact that this was probably the closest up she'd seen the little thing before, Cup cocked her head to the side, blinking perplexedly. "You are on the floor!" she stated, almost as if Claire weren't aware, and she seemed like she wanted to ask why, but wasn't quite able to get the words out, instead pacing at a trot around Claire's radius a couple of times, occasionally tilting her head the other way. She was reminded of the way house-pets liked to come investigate when a person sat down in what was usually their space. "Yeah, I'm down in Cup-town now," Claire remarked offhandedly. "How are you feeling, sweetie?" Cup's head cocked to the opposite side, as if something about that too seemed odd to her, and Claire caught herself kind of fascinatedly watching the gears in her mind turn. Cup had somewhat wide-set eyes that seemed relatively large for her scale, and her face came to a sharply pointed chin, giving the whole picture an almost cricket-like quality that Claire felt frankly guilty for thinking of. "I'm. Okay," Cup lied plainly, averting her gaze to her feet and only peeking up at Claire occasionally. "I did not stay under the shelf." "That's good," Claire said with an encouraging smile. "I went under the coat rack. By the door. Instead." "Oh!" "In case Bekah came back." "Right."
Her tongue scared it when she got a real taste of its body. It had just been a quick lick, but even that seemed enough to make it flail like she was about to eat it. She shut it up by stuffing it halfway into her mouth and up against her tongue. Her mouth watered with it just between her teeth, and ripples of something electric wound around her core at the sound of panic she felt coming from her little possession. She found herself quickly appreciating the fact that this thing's entire life was more or less at the mercy of her tongue. It certainly didn't make her feel gentler, and she pressed its body against it so long it had to force its face to the side and gasp for breath. She heard it trying to communicate. Her breath was filling its lungs while it fought for its life. Fuck. Sawyer had stopped bothering to talk to it. Her head was still swimming, and she was using what little focus she had on herself and what this embarrassing indulgence was making her feel. There was nothing stopping her from eating it. If she really wanted. Did she? Eh, no. It first crossed her mind when she pushed it in far enough into her mouth that she felt it really panic-thrash, but that only made her hum contentedly. There was nothing stopping her from doing anything to it, really, and the mileage she was getting from that was new to her. She became aware of how her heart was racing. There was no expectation that this thing in her hand would ever leave this room as far as anyone but her was concerned. She knew more than a few of her own coworkers who would just as soon have flushed the thing on sight instead of bothering with it. Sawyer was practically doing it a favor by engaging with it. She was literally nice.
homemade blueberry muffins
a tall anthropomorphic alligator woman who looks like she just rolled off a couch in a trailer park in Florida leans against a wall with one elbow up. she has messy unwashed curly hair lazily tied up but still covering her eyes. there is black lipstick on a zigzag mouth that a cigarette is hanging out of (it never falls out when she talks). she wears a tattered shred of a t-shirt with a visible frayed bra underneath and baggy ripped jeans with a lil belly hanging out. a huge big long fat tail drags behind her. she is using a bare foot to scratch an ankle. To the side is a sketch of her eye peering at you through the hair.
(old video) my hand extends over a small ceramic pot that contains a small pothos plant and a half dozen miniature apartment blocks. my nails tap a few of the sides of them and wiggles them experimentally before plucking one out of the soil and lifting it off-camera.
U.S. President Barack Obama and Vice President Joe Biden, along with members of the national security team, receive an update on Operation Neptune Spear, a mission against Osama bin Laden, in one of the conference rooms of the Situation Room of the White House, May 1, 2011. They are watching live feed from drones operating over the bin Laden complex. Seated, from left to right, are: a person with black hair (only part of the head is visible); Vice President of the United States Joe Biden, President Obama, Brigadier General Marshall B. "Brad" Webb, USAF, Assistant Commanding General, Joint Special Operations Command; Denis McDonough, Deputy National Security Advisor; Hillary Rodham Clinton, Secretary of State; and Robert Gates, Secretary of Defense. Standing, from left to right, are: Admiral Mike Mullen, USN, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff; Tom Donilon, National Security Advisor; Bill Daley, Chief of Staff; Tony Blinken, National Security Advisor to the Vice President; Audrey Tomason, Director for Counterterrorism; a person in a beige shirt (only part of the shoulder is visible); John Brennan, Assistant to the President for Homeland Security and Counterterrorism; James Clapper, Director of National Intelligence; and a person in a black suit with a white tie, similar to the one seen here. A classified document in front of Hillary Clinton has been obscured by the White House.
a chart of size preferences ranked by a scale of five hearts. microscopic: 🖤🖤🖤🖤 micro: 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 doll: 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 half-sized: 🖤🖤🖤 same-sized: 🖤🖤🖤 double sized: 🖤🖤 giant: 🖤🖤 macro: 🖤🖤 giga: 🖤🖤
it's a hyena with a party hat because it's a hyena's special day
an acorn on a necklace string sits in my open palm
a miniature redhead in a lavender shirt and blue jeans no taller than one of my nails lays on my index finger.
carpet-level perspective of a pair of black low heel boots worn by a seated woman in dark brown tights and a light brown checkered skirt, from behind
a discord screenshot of a message from me reading "micro girls who see me as more of a woman than they are (idk how to elaborate this one youre gonna have to make of it what you will)", followed by a surprisingly high number of flustered reactions for a relatively quiet server, followed by another message from me three hours later reading "oh ok"
snow on a sidewalk pocked with dents from dripping snow from branches above, now having refrozen in a shape and texture that feels just enough like tiny metropolitan landscapes
a large, soft hand with black nails is turned palm up, and at the base if the middle finger stands a very tiny person in a purple dress clutching her handbag and looking nervous