#SQUISH HIM!!!!! HE'S MALLEABLE !!!!!!!!!

[dailygooii]

SQIUISH HIM!! I love Goo so much

Daily Goo Day 75: Squeeesh

[ladyymiisa]

PINCH ‘EM!

summary: katsuki just loves your cheeks!

tags: katsuki bakugo x fem!reader, fluff, katsuki and reader are still in high-school, katsuki is a tease

author’s note: starting the new year off strong with katsuki fluff!! i luv him sm

if there’s one thing about you that drives katsuki absolutely insane on a daily basis, it’s your cheeks.

those soft, round, ridiculously cute, rosy cheeks that make his brain glitch like an old vending machine. they give him such violent cuteness aggression that he’s genuinely considered throwing himself off a rooftop just to reset. it’s humiliating, really, how much power your dumb face has over him.

but watching you eat? that’s a whole other level of torture. the way your cheeks puff out with every bite, like you’re stockpiling food for winter, makes his eye twitch in equal parts annoyance and affection. he calls you chipmunk, because honestly, you might as well be one. it’s absurd, it’s irrational, and it’s ruining his life. but here he is, still watching, still obsessed, like the fool he is.

“kats—ow!” you whine mid food gulp, flinching as his fingers suddenly latch onto your cheeks like a crab on a mission. with zero warning, he starts squishing and pulling them, treating your face like it’s his own personal stress toy. “what the hell are you doing?”

you manage to gripe, trying to pry his hands off your poor, defenseless cheeks. your words are muffled as he stretches them in every direction, but he doesn’t bother answering. he’s far too focused on whatever weird satisfaction he’s getting from turning your face into putty in his hands.

“try that again,” he growls, giving your cheeks another firm pinch, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. “and i’ll squeeze ‘em even harder.”

you glare at him, your face still trapped in his grip. it’s hard to take him seriously when his smug smirk is stretched across his face like he just won the lottery. however, it’s clear that your discomfort is his entertainment, and it makes you want to bite back, but you can’t seem to muster the energy to do so.

meanwhile, katsuki is having the time of his life. it’s not his fault your skin is so damn malleable, like some kind of stress ball he can just squish and pull at his leisure. with every pinch, your face contorts in the most ridiculous ways, and it only makes his shit-eating smirk grow wider, as if he’s proud of the mess he’s making.

“y’look so stupid,” he mutters under his breath, loud enough for you to hear, though it sounds more like he’s speaking to himself. “stupid chipmunk,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost fond.

before you can even process what’s happening, his face is in front of yours, and with no warning, he plants a big, exaggerated smooch right on your lips. it’s awkward, considering how he’s still squishing your cheeks together, making your lips pucker out like a weird fish, but somehow, you can’t help but find it endearing.

then he does it again, this time a bit harder. and again. and again. each kiss lands wherever he can reach—your lips, your nose, your forehead, even your eyelids—like he’s trying to cover every inch of your face. you feel warmth spread across your chest from the tenderness of his gestures, even if they’re a little ridiculous. despite the absurdity of the situation, there’s something unexpectedly sweet about the way he’s so gentle with you, even when he’s teasing you relentlessly.

you’re about to tease him right back for being such a softie, ready to throw out a playful jab when, of course, he just has to ruin the moment.

“ew, katsuki!” you yelp, your voice high-pitched with surprise as he suddenly sinks his teeth into your right cheek. it’s not hard enough to hurt, more like a playful nip, but it’s wet and the way his tongue shamelessly flickers against the bite mark sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. you try to push him off, but he’s latched onto you like some feral animal.

“seriously?!” you gasp, squirming in his grip, but he remains completely unbothered. “this is disgusting! my cheek’s all wet now!” you cry, twisting and turning in his arms, trying to wipe the saliva off with your shoulder.

“serves you right for biting my shoulder earlier. y’thought i’d forget? hah.” he says with a wicked smirk, leaning back just enough to admire the mess he’s made of your face—flustered, pouty, and still glistening with the aftermath of his attack.

you groan, smacking his chest in frustration, but the bastard doesn’t even flinch. in fact, he looks proud of himself.

“you’re the absolute worst, katsuki bakugo.” you glare at him, half-exasperated, half-amused.

“yeah, i’m fuckin’ terrible,” he grins, clearly enjoying the annoyance in your voice. to emphasize his words—and to annoy you even further probably—he pinches the same cheek he just bit like an overbearing grandma checking to see if you had enough to eat.

yup, katsuki loves your cheeks, especially when they’re all flushed because of him.

[lymtw]

Weathering A Storm Together

Toji calling you over to his place because there's gonna be a storm and he wants you to weather it with him. If it gets too bad, you can't travel to each other, so you might as well shelter together before you lose the option to do so.

He didn't greet you in a fluffy manner, but when does he? Usually, when you greet him with a hug, it'll start out normal and then his hand goes down south towards your ass, where he'll squeeze until you break the embrace.

You expected him to be handsy and up in your space because he really can't last five minutes without touching you, but it was as if he was being powered by the storm. You were pushed to the edge of the couch by him, his body wedged between your legs as he ambushed your lips with his own. His hands firmly grounded your hips to the couch cushions as if he were silently telling you not to move. Most of the lights in his apartment were off, just a lamp illuminating the scene of you and him on the couch and occasional lightning strikes that would cast light on your face. It was pouring outside, the sound of heavy rain and thunder filling your ears.

"What would you have done alone?" He plays with the hem of your hoodie, picturing the body beneath it.

"Nothing, Toji. Absolutely nothing. And you?" You tilt your head, allowing him to kiss your neck. One of your hands settles on the back of his neck, the other makes a mess out of his hair.

"Mm..." he groans at the feeling of you scratching his scalp. "I would've beat my dick to the thought of you and those pretty pictures you send me all the time. 'M glad you're here so I can fuck you instead."

You giggle, digging your heels into the cushions as he keeps smothering you with kisses. His crushing weight is completely welcomed by you as you attempt to bring him even closer.

"This my sweater?" His hands use their privilege on your body, going under the sweater to run up and down your waist. The warmth elicits goosebumps from you, and you can't help but writhe in his hold.

"You said I could hold onto it until you remembered to take it back, and I sure as hell am holding onto it."

His gaze pins you down, lips curling at your playful sass. He knows the obsessive thoughts that go behind sharing his clothes with you. You take his sweaters and he tells you to "hold onto them until he remembers to take them back" but that's just his code for 'think of me when you get off to the scent of my cologne'. He only takes the sweater back once your perfume overpowers his cologne, and it's then his turn to fantasize about you.

"That's good, doll. It smells like you, now." He presses his face against your chest, inhaling your scent deeply. "Mhm, that's my girl."

You giggle, brushing down strands of his hair with your fingers. You swear you felt something poke you down there while Toji face was pressed into you.

He pushes the bottom of your sweater up, over your midriff, until he sees the bottom of your bra. He kisses up your stomach, sucking a couple marks above your belly button and on your ribs before reaching your bra.

"Fuck, I love that you go shirtless sometimes when you wear my hoodies."

You laugh. "Yeah, my boobs are constant victims to your manhandling."

You play with his hair as he continues to explore your skin, littering more marks on it as he works his way up to removing your bra.

"They call me, baby. Who am I not to answer?" He pushes up the cups of your bra, watching intently as your breasts are exposed. "So soft and pretty, could keep my mouth on them all day if you'd let me."

He squishes the underside of your right boob, mesmerized by its malleability. His lips latch onto your nipple, sucking on the soft skin while his hand paws at the other one. You sigh, wishing you could press your thighs together.

"Fuck," he groans. "So soft, princess. I wanna ruin you."

You look down at him, your fingers still tangled in his hair. "Who's gonna stop you, baby? Me?" You take in his lustful gaze before finishing. "Absolutely not."

You sacrificed yourself to Toji. Your words got to him in a way you didn't think they would, but because of them, he was thrusting in and out of you mercilessly. He enjoyed watching your breasts bounce with every snap of his hips into yours.

"Fuck... fuck, mama," he almost whimpers. "You did this to yourself," he pants. "Was gonna fuck you... all nice and slow this time," he chuckles, breathlessly. "But, you won't ever let me be romantic, so fuck that." His nails dig into your hips when you start arching you back off the mattress.

"Oh my- Toji, Toji, fuck!" You claw at the couch cushion, your fingers shaking as you quickly lose grip.

You see another lightning strike behind Toji, through the window. You have two amazing views combined into one, tonight.

Toji wraps your legs around his waist to keep that strict rhythm in his thrusts. He leans forward, his forearms beside your head like a cage. "Why're you crying? Pretty girl's gonna cum? 'S that what's happening?"

You nod, gasping at his precision inside you. He's abusing his ability to find your sweet spot, torturing you with every roll of his hips. You hold back a sob, your heels digging into his lower back. Toji catches your tears with his lips, savoring the slight saltiness on his tongue. "Who else is gonna fuck you to tears like this?," he mutters into your jaw. "Huh? Who else?" He huffs against your cheek.

You let out a high pitched cry, your abdomen quivering against Toji's. "O-Only... you, T-Toji. Just, you...!"

"Uh-huh. Good girl." His nose drags down your cheek, leading his lips to your neck. "Absolutely no one else," he says before attaching his lips to your delicate skin. He knows you bruise easily so he uses this to his advantage.

"A-Ah... o-ow, Toji," your nails claw at his shoulder blades. You shudder at the sharp pain in your neck and collarbone.

"Hold still, just a couple more." His hips continue rolling into you, slower as he focuses on leaving hickeys on you skin.

"F-Fuck..." you inhale sharply when you feel his teeth on your shoulder.

"Mine," he mumbles beneath your ear. "These..." he presses on the bite mark and the litter of fresh marks on your skin, making you wince, "prove that you are mine."

He straightens his posture but keeps his gaze lowered to meet your dazed expression. Your brows are pinched, and though your eyes are lidded, he can make out tiny hearts in the slivers of your eyes that remain.

"Toji?" you moan.

"Yeah?" He groans, feeling your cunt clench around him.

"Can I," you shudder at the intensity of his green eyes focusing on you, "wanna cum."

He laughs. "How did that go from being a question to being a statement? Try again, doll face."

Your thighs quiver around his hips as he picks up the pace of his thrusts again. "U-Uh... Um..." your eyes roll back for a second. "Fuck, can I cum? Please?" It came out sounding desperate. There was a slight whine in your voice.

"Keep going."

"Toji, please? Please, make me cum. Please."

Your begging was working him towards his own peak, which is why he pushed for more from you.

"How badly do you want it, because to me it doesn't really sound like you want to cum. Convince me, mama."

You felt like tearing out your hair. You were going insane with this solid rhythm of his, holding you inches away from am earth shattering orgasm. Just a little more and you'll be tossed into a pleasurable void.

"Toji, please. Pretty please. Please, I need you to make me cum."

His hips pick up the pace the more you beg, his rapid breathing now audible to you.

"Please... daddy?" You plead, meekly.

That was it. That was enough to get whatever you wanted from Toji. His eyes widened, and for a split second, his soul was in your grasp. You willingly gave it back with twinkling eyes, and in return he made you cum so hard that you thought your spine would snap from how hard you arched off his bed. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing it up as you cried his name out until it didn't sound like a real word anymore.

You felt Toji tremble against you, his hips pulling back before rocking back into you, languidly. All you could hear were little shaky breaths near your ear before feeling his warmth spew inside you. You could hear his strangled groans becoming soft moans as he slowed down.

"F-Fuck, fuck, Toji," you shuddered, tensing up at the sensitivity you felt in your cunt even when he slowed down. He groans, leaving a kiss behind on your shoulder before leaning back to look at you. His dazed expression mirrored your own. He leaned forward one more time to kiss you. It was lazy and sloppy, saliva coating your lips more and more each time they brushed his.

Toji released you, sliding his cock out to see the result of such an amazing fuck. He whistles, impressed by the sight of his cum dripping out of your pussy and onto the couch.

"God, really, Toji?" You can't suppress the smile forming on your lips.

"What? You look stunning, darling. Can feel my dick getting hard again." His hand finds your knee, stroking it gently with his thumb.

"Wait, give me two minutes. Still sensitive." You smile sheepishly.

"Take your time. You're stuck with me 'til the storm passes, anyway."

You smile. "Shouldn't be too long."

"That's cute. You're trynna be gone by tomorrow?" He hisses with fake sympathy, like he's about to break bad news to you. "Tough luck, doll. Forecast says the storm should last the next four days."

[paarksunghoon]

hai deep honey anon is back!!! today i have hard thoughts 4 u 😇😇 been thinking a lot abt sunghoon n fingering tee bee eich.. like his long, slender fingers fucking into u n hitting that spot deep inside, and when he curls them up u quite literally see stars not to mention all the while he's whispering dirty shit in ur ear like "yeah? my dirty girl likes that? like it when my thumb rubs your swollen little clit while i fuck you with my fingers? they're so much longer and thicker than yours, aren't they baby?" hngnnfjfkdkejsks need him so bad ok bye im done for now but i Will be back 🤓☝🏻 toodles!

love how different this request is from the deep honey spin off 😭

***

Sunghoon wonders if any of your friends know just how filthy you are.

You present yourself as this confident, independent person whose heart is bigger than anything known to man. Your friends love you almost as much as Sunghoon does because you’re somebody they can always count on.

Behind closed doors, though, you relinquish your control.

Your boyfriend loves how malleable you are when nobody else is looking. That strong person he knows you to be is tucked away when he has his hands on you and your resolve crumbles with him. He loves the way you trust him to care for you like this. It’s almost like you love him, or something.

Still, Sunghoon wonders if your friends know just how often you spread your legs for him and how wet you always are. He could touch your thigh and you’re gushing like nobody’s business. Even so, Sunghoon wonders if your friends know how much you love getting stuffed with his fingers.

He’s got you in front of his chest while he props himself up by the bed frame. Sunghoon spreads his legs wide and perches your ankles on the outside to open your body up to him. He’s got his left arm holding your chest until your tits are squished against him while the fingers of his free hand push themselves in and out of you.

Your body coils every time he breathes in your ear. Sunghoon’s lips graze the soft skin and he kisses you every now and then as if to tease you, loving the way your body reacts to him. You try to buck your hips and thrust into the air but his strong hold keeps you trapped between him.

“You always get so wet,” Sunghoon moans in your ear. Your spongy walls feel like heaven to him. “You’re such a slut, baby. Can’t believe you’re letting me touch you like this. What happened to you, hm?”

You clench around his fingers and drop your mouth open as you moan. Sunghoon chuckles and kisses the corner of your mouth, pushing his digits deeper inside of you. “You love my fingers, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes,” you stutter.

“My girl is so dirty��Yeahh. You like it when I rub your little clit too?” His thumb makes direct contact to your aroused bud and he laughs wickedly against your body when you arch your chest towards the ceiling. “Pussy’s so hot and cute. Do you think Heeseung knows how wet your pussy gets?”

“Sunghoon.”

“Do you think Jake knows how easy you are? I come home and you open your legs for me. I don’t even have to ask. Does Jay know how often you touch yourself? Do our friends know how many times I’ve made you cum since we started dating?”

Sunghoon’s finger curls up inside you and he encourages just low lengthy your moans are. He kisses the side of your neck and nips at your skin with his sharp teeth, adding to the pleasurable feeling that blooms in your chest.

“Make me cum,” you beg.

“Don’t worry baby. I’ll take care of you.”

[tra1nchi]

Fucking a nerd with plump ass is the dream istg

Minors dni,,Bro real,,,using ur nerds ass as a stress ball as you fuck into him from behind,,getting so distracted with how easily you are able to squish it that you barely notice how many times he came just from feeling ur hands on him :((

So obsessed with his ass,,watching it bounce as he jumps himself up and down on your d1ck!! So plump and malleable like putty :3

[grnherbs]

edging oscar until his dick actually starts twitching and he’s crying???

pretty boy | op81 imagine

mdni / eighteen plus only

“oh baby, look at you” you coo at oscar, sat on his knees before you, hands bound and looking ever so small with puppy dog eyes. his bottom lip was quivering and he whimpered, barely audibly in front of you, bucking his hips up into nothing. 

“what's the matter baby boy?” cruelly teasing, bringing you hand up to hold his jaw, forcing those wide eyes to gaze into your evidently cold ones, other hand squishing into the soft skin of his thighs, kneading gently, rousing him to whine further. 

the red tip of oscar’s cock, weeps with this contact and almost matches the blushed hue of his cheeks. “p-please, mommy..” he cries out, nuzzling his head into your hand, desperate for any form of touch, whether it was on his cock or not, you’d been at this for hours. 

you hand reaches down to cup his swollen balls, moments upon moments of edging had left them heavy in your hands. “please what baby?” you chastise, a hint of innocuous teasing within your tone.  

a small crocodile tear falls down oscars cheek and he says in the softest voice possible “please, please i’ll be so good, please let me cum..” shame dripping from his voice, embarrassed at how much of a whore he becomes for you. 

you run your thumb over the tip and he gasps, bucking his hips up again, hand creating a soft pressure around it, a near pained sound escaping oscar’s plump lips. “i own you baby, I'll decide when you cum, isn’t that right?” and he nods, glassy eyed beneath you, biting his lip. “good boy” you say nonchalantly, beginning to stroke his cock at a slow pace, his head dropping to land on your knees, sighing out. 

as your hand picks up pace on his cock, he becomes more and more malleable in your hands, shaking gently beneath you “you’re doing so well for me, pretty boy, i love you” you kiss his forehead, feeling a slight sheen of sweat upon it and chuckle against him “so worked up aren’t you?” and he nods, opening his mouth to usher an apology, the sight of it making you weak in the knees. “so good for mommy,” you smile.

oscar felt himself getting close again, trying to restrain himself from fucking your hand, desperation to cum tipping him into a dozy submissive state, near swaying, a feeling of almost being high and he shook more and more, waiting for permission or edging to come again for the fifth time this evening. 

your pace picks up and he's whimpering more and more, shoulders shaking, hips twitching, watching your face wide eyed, waiting for permission and you smile, kissing him again, mouths and tongues intertwining, filling your mouth with his pretty sounds, hardly even muffling them in any way, you pull away and grab his hair with your free hand, 

“go on baby, cum for me, let go” you say softly into his ear and watch as his eyes roll back gently, hes begging now, eyes tearing up, as he spills over your hand, thick and hot, whimpering and burying his head in your hand mumbling “mommy, mommy, please, feels so good” and a string of incoherent “thank you’s”. his overstimulated dick is weeping nearly as hard as he is and you bite your lip, watching awe at your good boy, crying and twitching underneath you, cock jumping with every rope of cum…

[random-fandoms-fanfics]

KOBD Sparkling. Autobots

3500~ words

Transformers Terminology

I shifted to doing this in a reader insert style, I just enjoy writing this way

The glow was too beautiful to resist, your legs moving on their own, pulling you out of the building and towards the portal. You would think that by now the Autobots would automatically watch their footing to ensure they didn’t step on their human companions, but their eyes were up, focusing on each other and missing the human sized sparkling at their feet, your quiet beeping ignored as Bumblebee’s beepings masked it. Passing through the portal felt weird and was disorientating for such a little and young being, you found yourself stumbling as you came out of the portal, your soft pedes making your unsteady footstep undetectable to the bots that grouped together.

Once you had steadied yourself, you made your way between the legs of the giant robots, your yellow eyes gleaming up at them as they talked amongst themselves, completely unaware of the sparkling wandering beneath them. You were next to the legs of the large bot you were close to during the battle when your mind drifted to the other bot that was there, where was he, he seemed cool. With your mind distracted you didn’t notice that Bulkhead began to move, his leg lifting over your helm.

*squeak*

Everyone froze, Bulkhead nearly tipping over as he stopped his descending pede midstep, when he pulled his leg back he revealed the tiny white sparkling, who’s was slightly squashed, “Bulkhead!”

“I didn’t see them,” terrified of hurting the tinier being further Bulkhead tried to move away, his pedes barely lifting off the ground as he shuffled backwards, yet he failed to run as you chased after him, giggles bubbling from your throat. Before you could torment the big bot further, you were scooped off the ground in a swift motion, lifted high into the air by two servos, “hello little one,” turning to the voice you found two bright blue optics staring at you and the most gentle smile, “where did you come from?” Optimus brought you closer to his faceplate, his smile growing as your servos pressed against his mesh. “What is that?” Miko squealed as she stood on the railing trying to get a better look at you, bouncing when Optimus lowered his servos down, revealing you to the girl trying to control her squeals, “this is a sparkling, or in your words a baby,” 

“Ooooo come here precious baby,” Miko held her arms out to you, her hands grabbing for you, lifting yourself up to your feet, you made your way to her, shaking as you walked over Optimus’ digits. When you made it to the edge of his servos, you didn’t really know what to do next, the ground wasn’t there, what were you meant to step on. “Come on, big step down,” Miko’s hands grabbed your servos and what was meant to be gentle encouragement turned into you losing the balance you barely had and tumbling off Optimus’ servos, slamming into the concrete.

You kinda just laid there, listening to the suddenly loud voices that were incomprehensible to you. After laying there for a minute or two you stood back up, finding yourself in front of the weird looking being who pulled you into the concrete. You found that not only did you stand just below her head, but she was also biting her lip to stifle the laughs from seeing your flat, elongated helm, “don’t worry, I can fix it,” Miko grabbed onto your faceplace, squishing the malleable metal back into shape, “oh, that worked,” Miko’s giggling came right back when you tried to squish her face back. Her face was different to Optimus’, instead of being the same type of material, you could feel she was squishy like you, but under that squishiness you could feel something solid, you could even feel the bristles on her face and you also nearly stuck your finger into her eye.

“Curious, sparklings are only that malleable right out the spark chamber, alright spill it which one of you were carrying them,” Ratchet’s digit pointed at everyone even at Optimus, as everyone began to deny carrying you, Miko turned from you and looked over them in confusion, “which one, wouldn’t it be Arcee?” Miko’s question silenced the bots, it was so absurd to them that it restarted their processors, “why me?”

“You’re a girl,”

…

“And?”

“Only girls can have babies, duh,” Ratchet groaned at the limitations of humanity and the lack of knowledge humans had about cybertronians, even though no one taught them, “any cybertronian can carry a sparkling, usually it’s the bot with the bigger spark chamber,” Arcee’s servos hooked under your arms, lifting you away from your spot and pulling you against her chassis, “see how big they are, a sparkling like this wouldn’t be able to grow in me,” Arcee showed that you were as long as her entire abdomen, being too big to fit in her, but you didn’t care about that, you were busy swinging your legs against Arcee’s abdomen. Feeling optics staring at you, you lifted your helm up to Arcee, the femme smirking at you, “you know, they look big enough to be a wrecker,”

“Don’t you try to put this on me, w-who would I even have a sparkling with,” Bulkhead's sudden voice startled you, causing you to almost jump out of her arms. Worried about you falling again, she placed you back down next to Miko and turned back to the arguing bots, quickly being drawn back into the argument about your creation.

“So, you wanna ditch while they’re distracted,” hearing Miko’s voice you turned to her, watching as she threw her hand over her shoulder, her thumb pointing out behind her. Looking her over you moved your body to match hers, your pedes even shifting to match the placement of her feet, Miko looked confused for a second before a smirk overtook her face, Miko raised her arms above her head and watched as you copied her, when she spun in a circle you spun in a circle. You watched as Miko lifted her foot off the ground, standing on one leg, of course you mimicked her and of course you struggled to balance, almost tipping over and slamming into the ground again. 

Thankfully you were saved from this fate by two servos taking you away from your friend, “we don’t need them mimicking humans, let alone you,” while his words were incomprehensible to you, you understood the cruel tone of his voice that contrasted with how gently you were held against Ratchet’s chassis, it was so gentle you were able to lift yourself out of his grasp and stand on his shoulder, looking up at him you saw the points on his helm, and immediately felt the urge to grab them, “hey what’s wrong with me,”

“You knowingly put yourself in danger time and time again, a curious sparkling mimicking that type of behaviour will ensure it’s death,” Ratchet tried to look serious but there was a sparkling standing on his collar and pulling his brow closer to them. And that’s when you heard it, a rasp bubbling noise that came from the squishy being you were just with, turning to her you saw something between her lips as she made the noise, feeling the glossa in your intake you pushed it between you dermas, and when you pushed air through your intake, you made the noise. Everyone’s optics and eyes snapped to you, the closest pair staring in horror, “why are you even still here, shouldn’t you be home, shouldn’t you all be at your humans’ homes,”

“Why would I go home when there’s a baby, I got so much to teach them,”

“You will not be teaching them anything,” before Ratchet could go any further, Optimus pushed himself between Ratchet and Miko, “Ratchet is right, you must return home Miko and the three of you still have your duty to our human companions, Ratchet and I will ensure their safety until you return,” their chassis heaved as they begrudgingly agreed with Optimus. Oh the sudden attention you got was intoxicating, the digits that brushed over your helm, the servo that completely engulfed your helm, the cooing and beeping directed at you as they said their goodnights, Miko could only yell out her, “goodnight baby,” to you as Ratchet refused to let her near you again.

From your perch you watched as the three bots and Miko waved goodbye to you, and when they transformed, with Miko jumping into Bulkhead, and drove off, you stepped off of Ratchet’s shoulder trying to chase after them. Servos accidentally fighting against one another as they tried to catch you, just before you met the ground again Optimus’ servos latched around you, your small body slightly molding to the gaps between his digits, “I’m not sure if I should sparkling proof the base or wrap them in a protective covering,” Ratchet’s voice was shaking, he was starting to think you didn’t need Miko’s help to end your life, “both?”

“Both is good, I’ll set up a berth for them in your berthroom and get started on making this place safe,” after a quick stop in a storage room where Ratchet found a small box like berth, Optimus and Ratchet delved deeper into the silo, reaching the bare berthroom that belonged to Optimus, there was just a large berth that sat against the furthest wall and a computer hung against a wall. “Give me a second and I’ll set up their berth up,” while Ratchet began to attach the small box to the side of Optimus’ berth, said bot looked down at you with a face that was so warm and soft, “now remember sparklings need strict boundaries, no matter how much they cry do not let them recharge with you, or else they’ll never recharge alone,” even with how serious Ratchet made himself sound Optimus couldn’t help the snicker that escaped his dermas, he was a 9 million year old prime who was hardened by war and you were fresh out the spark chamber, what could you do to him, “Optimus!”

“Understood Ratchet, say goodnight young one,” Optimus turned you to Ratchet, his giant servo pinching your wrist and shaking her servo up and down at Ratchet as you babbled out some beeps, “goodnight sweet thing,” Ratchet gave Optimus one more stern look before he waved back to you and left you and Optimus to yourselves.

Optimus lowered you into the smaller berth, one of his servos lingering in the berth as a digit brushed over your cheek, “do not worry we’ll keep you safe,” three digits held you steady as he pushed you down onto your back, his servo hesitant to leave your tiny frame. Sticking your glossa out you blew a raspberry at him, and Optimus blew one back, a massive smile on his dermas and his chassis shaking as he laughed, when his servo left you, you chased after him, clinging to the edge of the berth as you tried to reach him. You shuffled around the edge of your berth, following Optimus as he climbed into his own berth, peaking over the wall you watched as he sunk into its soft material, his vents expelling gusts of hot air.

From his position Optimus could see your yellow optics peeking over the walls, staring at him, he couldn’t help the rumbling in his chassis, like the humans you were a needed break in the constant fighting between decepticons and autobots, a small source of joy, that would likely also cause them a bunch of stress.

Optimus struggled to ignore the pleading optics staring at him and the servos clawing at the berth as you tried to climb out, turning his helm from you he squeezed his optics shut in a desperate bid to ignore you, but his spark broke in half when he heard a shrill cry calling out for him.

Optimus’ servos suddenly wrapped around you and he held you over his helm, “I am glad you’re not a decepticon, your manipulation skills are unmatched,” he set you down in the space besides his helm, his optics watching you as you crawled closer to him, “please do not tell Ratchet about this, I do not need to hear a lecture,” because you didn’t know what he was saying and weren’t able to communicate, this deal was going to be easy to keep, so you buried yourself into the side of his head, one of your servos wrapping around the spike that sat on his audial as your optics closed, quickly sinking into deep recharge.

-----------------------------

After that night Optimus realised the reality of his thought, you were in fact not a hardened cybertronian who understood the dangers of the world and the serious situation you were dumped into, you were a newly born sparkling whose only concerns were getting attention, obsessing over random things, eating when and what you wanted and recharging when you wanted. And with the bots still being in a war, the added pressure of caring for you wore them thin.

Their mesh was stained by the liquid energon you threw at them, everything in the silo now had a bite mark in it, because of this behaviour they had to become incredibly careful about not leaving live wires in your reach due to you biting into one once and becoming obsessed with trying to get at the electricity that ran through them. Optimus’, Ratchet’s and Arcee’s back struts and necks were in near constant pain due to how often you would grab the spikes on their helms if they got too close to you and just hold them in a bent position, and their pedes burned due to how often you escaped the silo and needed to be chased down before anyone saw you. They weren’t always successful as after your arrival a few rumours about a metal eating metal creature stalking the town started to pop up.

These escapes weren’t even Miko’s doing, you just did it by yourself, the worst instance of this was when it was just you and Ratchet in the silo, he had been watching you intensely all day, ignoring his duties to keep your attention with games and toys you couldn’t bite into, and the moment he turned away to open the groundbridge for the others, you were gone. Somehow making it to a nearby junkyard completely undetected and gorging yourself on scrap metal. The kids wouldn’t let Ratchet live his mistake down as after a sheet of metal that had bite marks in it was found in the raided scrapyard, the entire town now held a belief in the metaleater.

The only peace they got was when you were in Optimus’ berth, holding him in place as you recharged without any interruption. The only problem was when Optimus was needed for a mission, as he abandoned you in your berth and ignored your cries for him, so every time he abandoned you, you made sure to punish everyone, including the humans, the next day by biting them whenever they tried to touch you. Blood was weird, it tasted like metal but it made your insides twist in the wrong way. They really did try to get you to recharge by yourself, but having to listen to the constant anxiety-inducing screaming that filled the silo whenever they left you alone and your denta sinking into their mesh the next day made it a more than miserable task they just gave up on.

The autobots’ saving grace was June finding out about their existence as they finally had access to someone who was experienced in caring for such a young being. Their biggest concern were of course your grand escapes. June’s recommendation was to regularly take you outside, if you were so desperate to be outside why stop you. If you understood her you would agree with her, all you wanted to do was be outside, to feel the sun on your mesh, to dig in dirt, and enjoy the bath you got after, to see the creatures of this planet and to run without walls. The moment they began taking you outside the silo and letting you run off the excess energy you had, was when things became calmer. Now your escape attempts only occurred when Arcee, Bee and Bulkhead went to pick up the kids, which was easily fixed by Bee and Bulkhead taking you with them. Oh how you loved the car rides, sure you were able to see cars and other humans but the best part was when Bulkhead or Bee would make a detour to the highway and speed down it, the two mechs loving how you would squeal and whir as you were pushed into your seat.

With you having less energy to cause chaos, June’s other recommendation of creating a routine became a bit more feasible. You would wake up with Otpimus, have a bottle of energon, go out on a patrol that was ensured to be safe with two of the bots for an hour or two then be sent back to base to hang out with Ratchet, he would try to teach you things like speaking, but he found more success with just let you play with random items, like a box large enough to fit in, some building blocks, some of Jack’s old toys, he even let you play with the rocks you kept on bringing into the base. You would get a nice pile of scrap metal before one of the other bots returned, one of them taking you outside for a quick little run around so you would fall into a recharge without Optimus. You would always wake up when Arcee, Bulkhead and Bee were about to pick up the kids, chirping into the donated baby monitor until one of them came to get you from your berth. 

The kids loved to care for you and give the bots a bit of a break, they would race you through the base, give you an unplugged controller when they played video games, they would bring you a bunch of paper and pencils so you could all draw together, and even though they couldn’t understand you, they would listen to your made up war stories, unknowingly cheering on the gruesome battles you created with your toys. Even though it was rare, Miko would take you outside, where she would encourage you to smash rocks and punch the canyon walls, she even let you listen to Slash Monkey after Ratchet forbade it due to it, corrupting you.

After an entire day of playing and adventuring, you got another bottle of energon, drinking away against the chassis of one of the bots, being gently rocked for what could be hours until you called out to Optimus. Said bot always avoiding the glare he got from Ratchet when he would pick you up and take you to his berthroom where he would always try to have you recharge in your berth but he always broke the moment he heard your little voice call to him.

There were still some issues, the main cause being how often missions would turn south and the bots having to abandon your routine, typically leaving you alone with a preoccupied Ratchet. They learned the consequences of this when Ratchet was late in opening the groundportal because he saw you had got ahold of an electrical cable. After that they set up a little enclosed area for you, it was full of toys, some of Jack’s old books, a few pieces of paper and pencils, a little pile of scrap metal and a bottle of energon, there was even a berth in it, and sometimes you would crawl into it and fall into a recharge.

-----------------------------

As the days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, your rapid growth was very obvious, when you first arrived the top of your helm just reached Miko’s chin and now you were twice her height, and while you were thickening out evenly your chassis and shoulders were broadening out much more than the rest of your body, becoming more triangular in shape. During this time your armour formed, it wasn’t anything special, just a basic set, the most interesting part was the prominent crest with three tall prongs beginning to form on the top of your helm, as it allowed the bots to realise that your affiliation towards the spikes on their helms was likely due to at least one of your creators also having a prominent crest and you somehow remembering that basic shape. You were also no longer a uniform white, most of your plating shifted to a beautifully bright ultramarine blue, with a few orange accents lining your armour.

If only Knockout could see your colour, he would’ve loved the way his and Breakdown’s paintjobs combined to create such a beautiful blue.

He would have loved to hear your little voice. To hear your little beeps and whirrs slowly become words.

To have you on his shoulders as he worked, or to be his little assistance.

For him to be the one you recharged with.

For his neck and back struts to be in pain with how often you would grab the spike on his crest.

To chase after you through out the nemesis with Breakdown multiple times a day.

He would even love it if his mesh was the mesh stained by the energon you refused to consume.

But he couldn't love the little, or even the big things about you. How could he when Breakdown lost you.

[youaremyhome]

Pieces of the Night: Synapses Between the Stars

Warnings: Dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader, 18+ NSFW, smut, HEAVY non-con/dub-con, drug use, possessive behavior, blackmail, manipulation, DARK. More to add. Read at your own risk!

Notes: 4.0K ya'll I cannot apologize enough for how long it's been! I won't bore you with the mess of my life but just know i am continuing this story with love and excitement. thank you to everyone who is still reading and for being patient with me!! love ya ❤️

Taglist: @belcalis9503 @ACRAZYBIOTCH374 @fangirlwithlou@malfoytargaryen @RAFECAMERONSBADUSSY @takin-care-of-business@watersquirtpewpewboomm@magnificantmermaid@mk15x@abbybarnesstuff@lavenderhue@dirtytomatoedwrites @gothamlovr91 @skel-skell @hiddencurator @luvmatchamilktea

@palmwinemami @e-spexially

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! 

The threat lingers in the air like a bad odor. Your face scrunches up with more tears as you reluctantly nod. A child-like fear encapsulates over you, fingers slowly untwisting from his pants. Rafe’s half hard as you find comfort in his pacifying touches, his hands massaging down your scalp to the nape of your neck.

As much as he’d love to stay in this moment, the tackiness on his dick is uncomfortable so Rafe tucks it in with a zip. He urges you up, but you give a small wince. Rafe hums questioningly, following your eyes down to the trickle of blood at your right knee.

“Oh, Angel. You’ve hurt yourself.”

Directing you down in a chair, he parallels your descent into taking a knee before you. Your palms wipe clumsily at your soaked cheeks, skin irritated from the salt and constant rubbing.

A small shard of glass pokes from the hard base of your knee, embedded from the hardwood floors. Dark red borders the clear glass, tinting it an ombre of maroon as it spreads itself. Running a hand up the curve of your calf, his fingers knead at the fat and muscle there. With his other hand, he pinches his thumb and index together to pull the fingernail-sized glass out. It plinks on the table.

Rafe pouts up at you, jutting out his lower lip before kissing your shin right at the end of the blood trail where it fattens like a dew drop. The taste of your essence seeps through his lips and nourishes his soul. Flattening his tongue, he slides it up to the wound and leaves an imprinted bloody shape of his mouth there. He thinks of clowns, the ocean, anything to will his dick to stay down, the metallic aftertaste of you marinating all over his tastebuds.

You don’t flinch as Rafe cups your face, hiding it instead in the palm of his hand as you keep crying. You’ve never cried this long before and Rafe wonders if the surge of fluctuating hormones is to blame. Stroking the tears away with his thumbs, you two stay like that for a long moment. Rafe waits patiently until you're fully nestling into his touch, allowing him to lean in closer and smell the shampoo of your hair as it tickles his nose.

Though he does love your crying, the best part of it is the aftermath. Where your mind is drained from the climax of emotion, a shaky little thing made to be wrapped up and taken care of.

He coos your name with gentleness, with forgiveness. Kissing along your face to clean up your tears, your puffy lips are malleable against his. Pulling back with a small smile, he checks over your splotchy face. Squishing your cheeks together to purse your lips, he kisses you again. It's a mockery of a true kiss. Using your docile state to his benefit.

Carefully, Rafe stands up to lead you toward your bedroom. With one step, there’s a dull stab at the sole of his foot. Lifting his foot up and to the side, the yellow kitchen light reflects off the culprit. More glass. Flicking it off, he detours you to the couch instead, bundles you back up in blankets, and takes a step away. A pull to his shirt stops him.

You look like you hate yourself for asking in a hoarse voice, “Where’re you going?”

His chest swells. Rafe thumbs at the apple of your cheek. “Goin’ to clean up, baby. Relax now, alright?”

With an approving nod, Rafe starts to scan the floor. Following it like breadcrumbs in an exploding trail of broken glass, his gaze is led to the opposite wall stained dark with rivets collecting down to the baseboard. The water has mostly contained itself to the site of the explosion, glass escaping all the way into the dining room and under the table for refuge.

His rose-tinted hue mutes into stark colors of remembrance.

Of when he was little but always a big brother. Before Rose and when Wheezie was a baby, a time when it was only Ward. Hiding a smaller blonde before himself.

It’s like switching on LED lights, his serenity dissipates into a crumbling headache. Memories attempt to suppress him into the black hole he calls home for days on end, where the craving of something stronger blankets him. Rafe blinks rapidly and then searches for a dustpan. Sweeping is second nature to him, like an instinct he’s forgotten about because now a maid does it.

The twinkling of broken glass is a familiar sound and as all the pieces come back together so does a fear that there’ll be a figure imposing behind him. One that is stronger and angry about the mess. Jerking his head to the side, Rafe finds relief because there is no shadow looming over him, no deep bark of a voice to cower from.

It’s the back of your head. You, right where he left you. Waiting for him.  

He thinks you’ve fallen asleep from how quiet it’s been but when he rounds the corner of the couch you peek up from beneath the blanket. He can’t tell if the tug at his heart is from affection or shame. Propping your legs over his lap, he leans your head against his chest as his arms wrap around you.

It’s strange and silent. Your face is dry now, sniffling every so often as you tiredly cuddle him. Seeking comfort from the emotional edging he’s provoked today. Rafe rubs your arm and leg with periodic squeezing. Nose borrowing into your hair he pecks kisses there, a warm buzz tickles the tip of his nose.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe’s voice cracks. You feel breakable in his arms. “sorry, sorry, sorry…”

The front door closing wakes Rafe up in limbo. There’s a kink in his neck, warm with the weight of you on him. Multiple footsteps sound, coming closer until there’s a halt and hushing.

“Aw, look at them.” Is whispered before there’s a shuttering click.

“Andi, shut up, you’ll wake them.”

As the presence of your roommates’ fade and so does his consciousness, Rafe knows he’ll do anything to keep you like this.

🌙

The first day of spring break is unlike any other Rafe has ever experienced.

Last year this time, he was in his family’s house in the Bahamas with endless coke and flowing booze, and dozens of college kids roamed free in the sprawling mansion. Now, he’s with Ward going over the plans of construction and the partners included.

And oh, isn’t it a delicious surprise to be standing in front of your father. Shaking his hand with a professional smile. The same one he used a day before to shake his fingers into your soaking cunt, making you squirt for the first time. It was the best parting gift you could’ve given him.

Did you know your father would be here?

“Rafe…” Your father’s eyes shine with slight recognition. “You have class with my daughter, don’t you?”

“Yes sir, I do. She’s a very smart girl.”

Rafe knows it’s not the right time to indulge how well he knows you, so he lets the topic slip past. He scrutinizes your father in the initial meeting between the three of them. He speaks highly of his work, the people he’s worked with, and his family. A soft confidence that doesn’t command respect but receives it naturally. Ward boasts about the many properties he owns on the island, how he’s benefited the community and the people that look up to him, calls Rafe his ‘right-hand man’. It annoyingly pleases Rafe, even if this is the first major project Ward’s let him in on.

Presenting himself with respect to your dad is a top priority. Uses his good ol’ southern charm.  Shows obedience while inserting his ideas in meetings, makes nauseating small talk during lunches. Throughout the week, Rafe homes in on impressing your father while his own falls into the background. Once prayed-for compliments from Ward are forgotten words now that your father laughs at his jokes, slaps his shoulder in comradery. After too many, sirs and Mr.’s your dad insists that Rafe call him by his college old nickname, Cruiser.

He almost can’t believe how good the week goes. Rafe stays (mostly) sober. Ward doesn’t belittle him. Your father announces that he’ll be staying in the OBX for the summer.

That little tidbit doesn’t reveal itself until the end when Ward schedules a tee time to celebrate the success of a good partnership.

Weak rays of the morning sun cast long shadows. The humidity gathering warns of warmer weather later, giving the perfect excuse to hydrate with beer. It’s all play and no business. Your father is a chatty man as Rafe lines up with his club to the ball.

They’re on the 8th hole and Rafe has a good buzz, enjoying the game. The times he’s played with his dad in the past had been riddled with competitiveness, dampening the mood each time. Your dad absorbs that attention as he’s been parring better than Ward. It's entertaining to watch Ward struggle to trap down that ugly streak. Rafe could care less about scores and the like, he appreciates that Cruiser personally invited him to play with them.

“…Lauren’ll be off somewhere doing whatever. Wife’s excited to come back,” Cruiser takes a pull of beer and says your name, “She’s so busy with school I haven’t had much chance to ask her.”

Rafe’s ears twitch. Widening his feet again, he arcs the club up slow…

“But I think she’ll enjoy the summer here.”

The twitch in his shoulders is to blame for the bad shot, hitting the ball too high and not far enough.

Rafe mutters a swear into his shoulder, wiping his chin there. He steps away with a casual shrug, switching with Ward to stand next to your dad.

“So, uh…ya’ll be here for the whole summer or until the projects finished?”

“I like to stick around until the project's done.” Rafe becomes conscious of the fact he’s staring at him when Cruiser side-eyes Rafe. “Not too sure what her plans are after graduation, but it’ll be nice to have her here for a bit.”

Ward butts in. “And the Mrs. okay with it? What about her job?”

“Oh, Cotton doesn’t work.” Cruiser only refers to his wife as Cotton. And here Rafe thought his family had weird names. “We’ve been doing this sorta thing for about ten years now. She likes it. Seeing the country with my girls is my favorite time of the year.”

“Hm.” Ward’s eyes gleam with longing. “Wish my daughters took more interest in hanging out with me.”

Rafe rolls his eyes, taking a swig of his beer to hide it. It’s a practiced move he’s learned to perfect over the years. He can’t prod into the subject of you now with Ward sugaring it up into parenthood.

“How’d ya’ll meet?” Rafe asks with strained politeness.

“In undergrad through mutual friends. She was the sweetest thing to everyone but wouldn’t give me the time of day.” Cruiser laughs heartily.

“Playin’ hard to get,” Ward jabs in.

Your dad shakes his head, laughter tailing off into a scoff. Rafe doesn’t think Ward notices the dismissal, too busy dicking around with practice swings. “Just had to prove myself to her…”

Ward gets a nice shot in, staying in his pose as he watches the ball sail and then land in a sand pit. Rafe would’ve laughed if his interest wasn’t already pinned somewhere else.

“How’d you do that?” Rafe asks as he adjusts his cap.

Ward cocks his head in Rafe’s direction with an inquisitive eye as he steps away from the tee. Cruiser goes to his golf bag, skimming around the many clubs. He carries himself with loose movements and talks as he decides on which club to use.

“I could tell you all sorts of things, son.” Sliding one out, he gives it a short toss-up in the air then catches it. “Most important of them: compromise.”

“Compromise?”

Is he sure he wants to get dating advice from your father?

“All there’s to it. That simple.” He confirms, correcting the white ball to stay on the tee. With ease he lines himself up, stance relaxed with loose hands. “I’m from the east coast, wife’s from the middle of the Midwest. So, after graduation, we stayed in California. That’s compromise.”

He takes a few faux swings, whistling a tune like Rafe isn’t hanging off his every word. Cruiser sways his hips playfully as he says, “You shift from one side to the other until…”

The strike of the ball is unexpected, soaring into an arc surpassing Wards. The ball bounces twice on the green, yards away from the hole.  

“Balance.”

🌙

You’re wearing a skirt today. It makes Rafe's jaw tick.

Once the weather started warming with the southern sun, you had worn a skirt to class. A modest thing just above your knees and plain, paired with a light sweater. How did you not expect Rafe to concentrate solely on it throughout class? To walk his fingers on your bare thigh, hook his knuckles to tug at the fabric. It wasn’t his fault that it fits you so perfectly with a flouncy hem and fitted waist. Every guy loved those kinds of skirts on girls, coy and causally hot. How could he resist such a sight?

But ever since that one instance, you hadn’t worn it since, not until now. Not until he skipped class because he arrived home late from Kildare and texted you that he wouldn’t be there to walk you to and from class.

He’s glad he changed his mind.

Catching a glimpse of you unguarded is rare nowadays. Sometimes, Rafe just likes to look. Look at the way your hair slips down, look at how your face wrinkles with your animated expressions. You make it hard to just look when you know he is. You morph into a rabbit, frozen with the instincts that a predator is watching. Still but poised to run.

Now, your shoulders are down with a smile as you exit the lecture hall with two girls. The skirt bounces with each step, a lively flap against your thighs.

“Hi, baby.”

The soft greeting has you drawn to a stop as Rafe slinks into your path, hidden by the stone pillar that leads into a small courtyard between halls. You’re flanked by the girls, overlapping chatter halting into one note.

“…Hi.”

It’s halfhearted but your voice is so much sweeter in person than over the phone. He recognizes the girls from the lecture. It seems like you’ve made friends in his absence. The three of you do that secret language of girl eye contact, one nudging you with a smile before they’re both bidding goodbyes, walking off without you.

Rafe likes you doe-eyed and alone. Lips chapped from the morning wind. You stand a foot away like you’ve been melded into the concrete.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to see you, o’course. I like your skirt.”

Rafe reaches out, tugging on the end of your skirt towards him with a melted smirk. Your resistance raises the hem, more skin bared as the skirt becomes more horizontal than vertical. The arousal in him amplifies as he pulls and pulls, your feet tripping twice as you’re forced into his space. He ends your cute protests with a kiss, lips warm against yours. The return of pressure from your lips thrills him.

“How was your spring break?” The ‘without me’ is swallowed down.  

“You should know…you only called me every day.” Tilting your head, your face is flat except for the tiny pull at the corner of your mouth.

Rafe kisses it, humming into your skin hoping to transfer the static that’s in his veins back to you. He pats small kisses over to your lips while one hand cups the side of your neck as the other scoops under the strap of your backpack, sliding it down your shoulder. Taking your backpack after class had become a habit born from preventing you from escaping. He slangs it on his shoulder to then intertwine his hands with yours. The ability to lock you in is a bonus.

“Is that so bad?”

“Y–”

“Aren’t you goin’ to ask ‘bout mine?”

You sigh. “How was your break, Rafe?”

“Oh, thank you for asking Angel. It was great. Saw old friends, surfed a bit.” Rafe watches your eyes glaze over to the left. “Met your dad.”

Your hand spasms in his. Your eyes snap back into place. It isn’t surprise or shock or unknown information you’ve been granted to coloring your face. It’s the dawning light of a premonition come true.

“You knew.”

Rafe’s voice is tight. The unexpected indigitation that flames his chest hurts more than burns. He anticipated this. Why he didn’t tell you over the phone about it, waited until he was face to face. You weren’t the best liar with his eyes pinned on you. His fingers mirror yours with strength until a whimper’s trapped behind your lips.  

“Yes.” Your voice is breathy. “I knew.”

“Any reason you didn’t tell me?”

“Many.”

“Cut the shit,” Rafe says your name with severity.

You puff out with annoyance that’s mounting to match his. Students pass by, rounding around the blockade you form on the sidewalk. One does a double take at Rafe’s curse. Grunting, he turns and marches into the empty courtyard towing you behind.

He should drop it. Wait until after he fucks you to bring it up.

But you knew.

A nag he should ignore eats at him until there’s only anger and hurtful pride. You’re still looking for a way out.

Snatching your hand away, you growl back at him with shoulders rising to your ears. Arms crossed at your chest and feet shuffle in place. Rafe ranks nails against his scalp, eyes ping-ponging along your face.

“This why you were a brat before I left?”

After the argument and the weeks leading up to spring break, you had continued questioning about Ward and his work. An anxious energy you radiated as it came closer. Rafe pegged you excited about him leaving.

The flick of your head to the side is the only verification he needs. You were expectant of their reunion.

“You didn’t…” You bite your lip. “Say anything to him, right?”

“No, I didn’t. Cause you’re gonna tell him.”

Your eyes widen until your lashes are practically in your eyebrows. Throwing your arms out to the side with closed fists, you lean with a shout. “Like the fuck I am.”

Rafe pitches your backpack behind him. Tension knots at the base of his neck, dragging a hand to roughly rub at it.

He keeps his voice flat. “When we go to Kildare, you can tell him yourself.”

“Oh-ho,” Your laughter is short and biting. “I am not going back there.”

“Yes, you are.”

“And you're so sure of this? How?” Your hip juts to the side, a hand propping on there to anchor yourself.

“Cause of that cute lil’ family tradition you got there.”

Your hand flips around, waving his sentence away. “I am a grown-ass person, Rafe. I can do whatever I want! And I want – I’m going back to California.”

You shake your head, the heel of your hand presses at your brow, blocking your vision. Rafe moves. Feet quiet on the concrete as he creeps closer.

“No, ya ain’t.” He seethes.

“I’m going back home after graduation! I’m never setting a foot back in this goddamn state!” You thrust a finger at him, inches from his chest. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Yes, the fuck you are. Or im gonna have to show everyone those pictures –”

The squeal abrupts from you, high pitched and echoing. “I don’t care! I don’t care anymore! Show whoever you want. I’ll be far away from you anyways.”

Rafe grits his teeth, molars threatening to grind into dust. Tilting his head up and shoulders down, he fights for eye contact as he works his jaw.

“And I don’t care what I have to do to fucking keep you.”

“I’m not some stray you can scoop up and lock in a cage.” Eyes narrowed and lip curled up, you push at his shoulder.

“Hm, a cage. That’s a good idea, baby.”

Lips thin in a tight line, he taps your check twice. He can’t help the dark amusement that tickles him when you jump in your skin, arms lashing out awkwardly.  

“Argh! You are so insufferable. After graduation you are never seeing me again, I promise you that Rafe.”

“Either you go with me, or I go with you.” Rafe starts circling you. Board body casting a shadow over you at every angle. You stay in place but swivel your head around to keep him in your sight. An airy touch of his hand has you flinching, him smiling. “You really want to be alone with me on the other side of the country? Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“You’re goin’ to be working.” Your mouth gapes open. “Your dad will-“

“What, what? What will my dad do, Angel? You don’t know my dad. I can have him postpone this construction for fuckin’ months, years. Bleed your dad fuckin’ dry –”

“You can’t do shit. Your little power here doesn’t reach everywhere, neither does your dads.”

“You don’t know what my dad is capable of.” Rafe pokes his finger at your collarbone. “Clearly, you don’t understand what I’m capable of. Think of your sister, how would she feel if she can’t use daddy’s money to travel anymore?”

“You can’t –”

“Your dad loves his job so much, you really gonna take that away from him? Ruin your parents’ marriage? And your poor mom…”

Shoulders bounce against one another as you whirl as you growl. “Don’t talk about my mom.”

“Her sensitive little heart would be destroyed with all that grief.”

Rafe saturates you with too many words, too many worries to catch up to any of them. Circling again to face you, he twists his fist into your skirt. Hauls you closer until the hem’s dangerously high, giving him a glance at your black panties.

You squeak out his name, one hand on his bulging forearm as the other struggles to lower your skirt back down.

“I can take you right here. I don’t give a fuck if anyone sees me.” His hand dips to the inviting black curtain. Finger creasing between your seam, Rafe rubs it back and forth. “And I’d get away with it.”

Your chin wavers with failed words, body taunt from leaning back. A moment of silence as his promises solidify in your mind. A breath away from crumbling

Fists strike on his chest, a snarling show of teeth as you curse and fight in his hold. Calling him every name under the sun. A tantrum if he’s ever seen one. Your knee hits his thigh, missing your true target of his groin so Rafe spins you, bear hugging you in restraint.

“Pick one.” Rafe hisses in your ear, forehead pressed to your temple. “California or Outer banks.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’d drag you down with me.” He chuckles, kissing the shell of your ear.

Your head knocks at his chin as you give another thrash. Breathing compressed with his hold, you tire in mere minutes.

“Fuck!” A final shout. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Mm, go where?” The teasing tilt rolls off with victory.

“I’ll go to Outer Banks with you, you fucking prick.” Rafe loosens his arms just so, allowing you to twirl away with a heaving chest. Cheeks red and pointing a finger at him. “Until the end of the summer.”

Rafe scoffs, tapping at his chest. “Until I say.”

“When the jobs done.”

“Six months.”

“Deal.”

Both of you sigh rough and loud. Rafe feels a vein in his neck pulse with each luh-dub of his heart. Cracking his neck to the side frees a smile from him.

“See, sweetheart, I knew we’d be able to compromise.”

[sapphichotmess]

IBLBM

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x plus size!f!reader (Bonnie)

Semi-inspired by “Talk” by Hozier

18+ mdni

5k+ words

Warnings: horrendous writing with very little dialogue (bc idk how to human), dubious consent (both drink alcohol but are not drunk), oral (f! receiving), unprotected piv (pls be careful), unexpected feelings?? (i was feeling fluffy at the end ig, bc it wasn’t supposed to end happily). 

The sounds of mindless chatter and loud laughing ring in Soap’s ears as he sits on the bar stool that creaks as he fidgets, placed next to the wall in the far corner of the run-down bar he frequents after deployment. Soap sips his whiskey, trying to drown out the distracting thoughts that had invaded his mind, racing through his head as fast as the bullets that had been recently fired at him. His striking blue eyes seem sunken and his cheekbones more pronounced in the dim lighting; his rugged features turned more harsh. The memories of the recent mission weigh heavily on him, seeing as his usually upright posture is wilted and slouched. Still, the laughter around him seems to provide a temporary escape.

Leaning against the peeling wallpaper, he absentmindedly runs his fingers across the sticky bartop in swirling patterns. At the same time, he brings his glass of whiskey up to his pouty lips to take another sip of the burning liquor; his blue eyes focus on something other than the bartop: the bonnie lass with her head thrown back in laughter at something one of her friends said, chubby cheeks squished as she smiles widely causing her eyes to almost disappear. The vivid joy of her laughter contrasted with the dark thoughts that haunted Soap. His mind wanders, succumbing to desires and fantasies that watching the lass offers—a brief respite from the harsh realities of war that usually storm his thoughts.

Soap takes another mindless sip of the amber liquid in the glass in his hand; the burn of the whiskey provides a physical distraction, a reminder of something tangible amidst the war and chaos of his thoughts. His blue eyes, ordinarily sharp and focused, betray a hint of vulnerability, softening as they follow the curves of the young woman's body, fixated on how her ample body seems to spill out of her seat in the most tantalizing way. The contrast between his wandering mind's harshness and his yearnings' softness is lost as he gets lost in the pretty lass, pink tongue darting out to lick his dry lips hungrily. 

Steamin’ Jesus, how he wanted to bury his hands in the pillowy softness of her hips and ass, drag her malleable body against his firm, unforgiving muscles. 

Soap tried to shake off the intrusive fantasies, lifting his gaze from the enticing scene. With its peeling wallpaper, sticky bartop, and the influx of civilians and soldiers alike, the bar offers a refuge of anonymity, a place where he could momentarily forget the weight of his responsibilities. 

Yet, the pull of desire lingers, weaving an intricate web of softness around the hardened soldier in that dimly lit corner of the run-down bar. Shooting the rest of his liquor to the back of his throat, Soap stands, wincing at the loud creak of the stool. The Scot takes a second to breathe deeply, making sure his posture is straight, his brown mohawk is neat enough, and his rakish smirk is perfect before swaggering over to the lass he had his eyes on; he knows that he will have a distraction in the form of plush thighs and whimpering sighs tonight. 

Soap's army-regulated boots make a subtle, purposeful thudding sound against the scuffed floor as he approaches, stopping just behind the object of his affection. The hum of conversation around him seems to dull in his ears as the air charges with an unspoken tension. His piercing blue eyes focused on his objective. This is not unlike having to seduce a mark when he’s undercover. 

The bonnie lass, oblivious to his presence, continues chatting animatedly with her friends. However, the sudden pause in her friend’s response is palpable as Soap's tall, broad-shouldered presence commands their attention. Their curious gazes turn toward him, and a hushed silence settles over the immediate vicinity. Every eye is turned to Soap as you turn to see what had caused the interruption, the laughter lines around your mouth and eyes fading into wrinkles between brows as you meet Soap's eyes with a curious gaze. 

Looking into yout eyes for the first time is like an atom bomb exploding—something beautiful and dangerous lighting up his irises, blocking out anything else. Soap feels as though time herself has stopped for him to have this moment, looking deeply into the most beautiful eyes he has ever seen. His rakish grin has fallen from his face, a drop-jawed, open-mouthed, and wide, starry-eyed look taking its place. 

“Lass” is the only thing he rasps out in a rough, accented voice, charming confidence washed away. 

Your friends giggle at the man’s loss of words, glancing at each other with smirks. 

One woman says, “If you keep your mouth open like that, you’ll catch flies.” 

This seems to break Soap from his haze, prompting him to snap his jaw shut with an audible clack of teeth. His cheeks burn like an inferno, red rising from under his shirt all the way up to the tops of his ears. The lass’ friends giggle more at his embarrassment. 

The bar, with its worn-out decor and the lingering scent of alcohol, resumed its normalcy. Sounds of creaking and conversation that had faded from Soap’s ears came ringing back. Soap, however, now stands on the precipice of a different kind of explosion—the unpredictable chemistry between two souls in a crowded, dimly lit bar, where a simple gaze has the power to alter the course of an ordinary evening. 

Shaking his head and sending his once-neat mohawk astray, Soap tries again, “Would ye dance with me, hen?” 

Your friends turn their attention back to you, who, by now, has lost the curious gaze and now adopts one similar to Soap’s from earlier—though you manage to keep your mouth shut. 

“I–umm…” is all you can stutter out in your confusion; what does a man like him want with a woman like you?

“I just…uhhh…I saw you from over there, hen,” Soap explains, pointing to ‘his’ corner of the bar, “and I just had to have a dance with ye. Yer body—steamin’ Jesus, Bonnie—ye could be a goddess just on looks alone. And yer laugh. It’s like faeries tinklin’ in my ears.”

Your face has heated to a nearly volcanic level because of the unexpected attention from such a specimen of a man; he wore a compression t-shirt that fit snugly around his arms and torso, bringing your attention to his hard, bulging muscles and black sweatpants that clung to his thighs like a second skin. Soap was pure sin, your mouth watering as you eyed him up and down. 

​​The vivid imagery of his words, combined with the genuine warmth in his eyes, sends an erupting flush of heat to your cheeks like a volcano boiling over. Soap's unexpected flattery, though eloquent, leaves you feeling both surprised and complimented.

Your friends exchange sly glances, perhaps recognizing the rarity of such a moment. Not only was a man asking you for a dance rare, but you reacting to a man with such awe was, too. 

Not above using his words—and his refined talk—to his advantage, Soap begins again, “Lass, ye ‘ave stolen my full attention. I’ve gotta ‘ave at least one dance with you. Please, Bonnie. I’ll get down on my knees and beg if that’s what ye want. Anything for just a taste of ye.” 

Glancing at your friends, who all give you looks telling you to go, you mutter, “Fine,” before getting out of your chair and standing before the behemoth of a man, “But I don’t even know your name.” 

Soap flushes darker at his misstep. “My name’s Johnny.”

“Well, Johnny boy, let's get dancing before you fall on your knees and beg.” 

Perking up like a dog whose just been given a bone, Soap squares his shoulders and runs a hand through his mussed mohawk, shuffling on his feet. He knows he has you in his grasp and will bring you home. He’s already got in mind all the things he wants to do to you, imagining the noises you will make as he wrings pleasure from you. 

Feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement, you allow Soap to take your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. As he leads you through the crowded bar, the familiar sounds of mindless chatter and laughter become distant echoes. The atmosphere shifts as you approach the small, rarely used dancefloor, a space that seems to exist in its own pocket of the world.

Soap's grip on your hand is firm yet gentle, guiding you with a quiet—though dominant—confidence. The flickering lights overhead cast a soft glow on the worn wooden floor, and the notes of an old, familiar song begin to play.

The dancefloor, usually abandoned in a corner of the bar, becomes the stage for an unexpected lust between you and Soap. 

Without a word, Soap places his free hand on your waist, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. The distance between you dissipates as he pulls you gently into his body, your plush softness smooshing against his stiff muscles. The warmth of Soap's hand on your waist is comforting and electrifying. Now softened by the dim lighting, his blue eyes hold yours with an intensity that speaks volumes. For a moment, the world's worries outside the bar seem distant, and you find yourself captivated by the unexpected charm of the rugged soldier.

As Soap leads you into a slight sway to the music, keeping his body solidly on yours, the silence becomes even more grating. 

​​Soap breaks the silence with a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating through your intertwined bodies, causing a slight shiver to race up your spine. "Never thought I'd find myself dancing in a place like this," he admits, lips lifting in a slight smirk, his voice carrying a hint of gruff amusement.

You manage a small smile, feeling a mix of emotions—surprise, joy, and a twinge of vulnerability. "Me neither," you reply, the music providing a gentle backdrop to the exchange.

As the two of you continue to move in harmony, Soap's gaze remains fixed on yours. "Ye know," he begins, his tone sincere, "sometimes ye find something good in the least expected places." His words linger in the air, prompting a thoughtful pause. "And sometimes," he adds, a playful glint in his eyes, "ye find yourself dancing with someone who makes even the dimmest corners feel bright."

In a fluid motion, Johnny leans down, his movements both deliberate and yet surprisingly gentle. The scent of whiskey and gun oil hangs in the air as his battle-worn hand glides from your waist to your jaw, cupping it with a rough tenderness. He can feel the heat in your cheek as he brushes his thumb across it. 

Johnny’s touch is commanding and caring, the callouses on his fingers a testament to his countless battles. There's a quiet assurance in how he holds your face as if trying to convey a depth of understanding beyond the spoken word.

Simultaneously, his other hand grips your hip firmly, sending a thrill through your body.

You and Jonny share a few breaths, looking at each other through lowered lashes. The dim lights cast shadows on your faces. Then, Johnny grabs your face tighter and pulls you up to meet his lips with yours. The first touch is light, just a graze of his chapped, cracked lips on your lips. The next is all heat and passion. 

Johnny uses his grip on your jaw to force your mouth open so he can slip his tongue into your mouth, tasting the sugary drink you had been sipping on and the essence of your flesh. His lips tasted of strong whiskey, potent and intoxicating, something you could get drunk on. 

Johnny's movements are deliberate, each touch calculated to evoke a response. He slides his hand from your jaw to the back of your neck, large, thick, and calloused fingers fanning out over the back of your throat, possesively firm but gentle. Your gasp is swallowed into the greedy kiss. Johnny barely lets you breathe, pulling back to adjust his grip on your body before he’s diving back into your mouth. His tongue explores the contours of your mouth, leaving no inch untouched, licking behind your teeth and coaxing you into tangling your tongue with his. Slick pools in your underwear. 

Suddenly, almost as if he knows your reaction, Johnny pulls away with a slick sound, a string of saliva binding you two together until he swipes his tongue across his lips, drinking in your taste. His eyes are pools of dark blue, a raging sea of blue covered almost entirely by black. He looks crazed, like a hungry wolf; his mouth is set in a barely perceptible snarl, brows pulled down as he focuses on his meal: you.

“Bonnie, I’m gonna be honest…I gotta have you. Taste you. Worship you for the goddess you are.”

“Johnny, I’m not sure…” you trail off nervously, “I mean, my friends are here, and I didn’t drive here.” 

“I ken ye are worried, but you don’t ‘ave ta be worried. Ye're aff yer heid if you think I’d do anything to a Bonnie lass like ye” Johnny looks into your eyes before purring into your ear, “Imagine being loved by me.” 

His rough, accented voice right in your ear sends tremors throughout your body, slick soaking through your underwear as your lust grows. 

“Okay” 

With that breathy word, Johnny has his mouth on yours again, subtly grinding his erection against your midsection. You let out a breathy whine at the feeling of his length. 

Johnny takes a deep breath and steps away from you, “I would take you right here if I could. But I cannae. So, we should grab a cab to your place before I fuck you in front of everyone.” 

Drunk on lust, you can only nod your head rapidly, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the door. You only remember to wave goodbye to your friends right as you open the door and step outside into the chill of night, letting the door slam behind you. 

Letting you drag him into the cold night air, Johnny chuckles at your enthusiasm, his Scottish mutterings carrying a sense of amusement. "Ye ken that I havnae gotten a cab yet, right, Bonnie?" he remarks, the humor evident in his voice.

Your response is a content hum as you huddle into his body, seeking shelter from the biting winds. The warmth of his embrace starkly contrasts the cool night, and you find comfort in the proximity.

Amused by your eagerness, Johnny pulls his phone from his back pocket, his other hand ensuring you're nestled close to him. The desire for closeness is palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the connection forged in the bar. The faint glow of his phone illuminates his features as he orders a cab after asking for your address, the anticipation of what lies ahead adding an electric charge to the air.

As you wait for the cab, the world around you becomes a blur of dimly lit streets and the distant sounds of the city. In this pocket of time, suspended between the closing door of the bar and the arrival of the cab, the connection between you and Johnny continues to simmer, a flame that refuses to be extinguished by the cold night air.

Soon enough, Johnny is protectively ushering you into the back of a cab, climbing in right after you so as to not be too far from you. The warmth of the vehicle envelopes you both, a stark contrast to the chill you left behind outside—though it doesn’t hold the same feeling as being held in Johhny’s arms.

As the cab weaves through the late-night streets, the cityscape passes by in a blur of lights and shadows. Johnny sits close, the space between you minimal, as if he wants to ensure you feel his presence beside you. His hand holds the meat of your thick thigh, kneading the flesh there and teasingly dragging his fingers closer and closer to your core before sliding back down, a smirk placed on his lips. 

The cab comes to a smooth stop in front of your house, the engine humming softly as it idles. The quiet neighborhood surrounds you; the journey from the bar to this quiet residential street feels like a transition from one world to another. 

The glow of streetlights casts a soft illumination on the surroundings, creating a gentle ambiance. As he steps out of the vehicle, Johnny glances at your house, eyes filled with curiosity. You get out of the car and into the crisp night air is crisp next. The cab door closes behind you, the vehicle pulling away and leaving you and Johnny standing in the cool night air. The world outside is hushed, as if holding its breath, and the energy between you two remains palpable. The moment is pregnant with possibilities. 

You drag Johnny to your house by the hand, unlocking the door with only the moonlight to guide you. Leading him into your house, you take your shoes off in the entryway, waiting for him to do the same. When Johnny is done taking off his boots, you lead him to your bedroom in the dark, heart beating faster and faster the closer you get to your destination. 

Without bumping into anything, you reach your room, quickly running to turn on your bedside lamps. The few times you had a chance like this, you opted for the softer lighting of lamps over the harsh luminescence of the overhead lights. 

The ambient glow accentuates your soft, round features, casting a gentle radiance upon you. The warmth and subtlety of the lighting create an ethereal ambiance, turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. Johnny, momentarily caught in the beauty of the moment, watches you with wide, twinkling blue eyes. 

As his brain catches up to the visual feast before him, his eyes sharpening with hunger for a taste of you, Johnny rushes to you, pulling you into a searing kiss. He commandeers you with unspoken authority and leading hands, their touch firm and possessive as they steer you wherever he wants. And where he wants you is on your back, on your knees, and on top; he doesn’t mind as long as he gets to have you. 

He will have you. 

Pulling away from his bruising kiss that lingers as you move, you take one of his hands—the one he had gripping your waist—in yours, walking backward toward your bed. When the back of your knees hit the bed, you plop down on your plush ass, giggling as you bounce a bit. 

Your laughter is a melody that makes Johnny smile, his white teeth showing as his lips curl. As you settle into the bed, Johnny positions himself between your legs, his wide stance forcing them further apart. He forces your head up as you lean back on your hands, bringing your lips together once again. Johnny cants his hips into yours, thick erection tenting his pants and pressing against your core. The breathy moan you let out in response to the stimulation allows Johnny to slip his tongue into your mouth for the second time tonight, eager to taste more of you. 

Johny continues dragging his dick against your core while he releases your lips from his, sliding them down to your jaw. He begins licking and nipping at the juncture where your jaw meets your skull, pulling breathy moans from you. 

Johnny's lips trace a path from your neck to your earlobe, where he delivers a gentle nip. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and his warm breath against your ear makes your heart race.

"Keep making those noises, Bonnie," Johnny whispers, his voice a low, seductive murmur that resonates in the intimate space between you, "and ye won’t be gettin’ rid of me."

You let out a nervous giggle in response as your body rocks against his, following his easy movements. Your giggle gets cut off with a choked whine when his cock hits your clit just right. Johnny huffs hot air into your neck as he works to keep the angle just right so he can keep hitting your clit. After a minute of this, you shove Johnny back by his shoulders, sitting all the way up. 

As Johnny stumbles to keep his footing, you stabilize him by placing your hands on his hips. After he was steadied, you use your hands on his hips to your advantage by slipping them underneath his shirt to feel his scarred abdomen. 

The soft glow of the bedside lamps casts a warm hue over the room as you sit back, a smile playing on your lips. Johnny's muscles jump under your touch as you glide your hands up his torso, rucking his shirt up with them. Johnny allows you to slide his shirt off. His arms lift in cooperation, and the fabric is discarded, revealing his defined physique. The soft illumination accentuates the contours of his body, making his abs appear extra defined in the gentle light.

You glide your hands back over his stomach going down towards the low-sitting waist of his sweatpants. As you go to palm his erection through his pants, Johnny grabs your hands in one of his larger ones. 

“Not yet, Bonnie. I wanna taste you first.” 

After Johnny states this in his rumbling, accented voice, he releases your hands from his grasp and pushes you fully up onto the bed, your feet no longer dangling as your back hits the bed. Breathing heavier and your pussy pulsing with need, you watch with lidded eyes as he crawls towards you on the bed, a predator hunting his prey. He looks like a god as the lamplight illuminates the sharp features of his determined face, mouth shit in a tight line, and eyes focused solely on you. 

Johnny stops just before you, hands wandering up your covered legs. 

“Can I take these off, Bonnie?” he asks, fingers pulling at the waistband of your pants and underwear. When all you do is whimper in response, he tuts and shakes his head. 

“I asked you a question, lass. You best answer it.” 

You manage to breathe out a “Yes, please, Johnny” in response. 

Johnny nods his head in approval of your verbal queue, hastily fumbling with the button of your pants before tearing them—and your sopping panties—down your legs. He watches as your thighs spill from the fabric covering your lower half, the flesh jiggling slightly from the force used to rip the pants and underwear away from you. He is practically drooling and growling, desperate to get a taste of you, to get to see all of your soft body on display for him. 

Deciding he wanted you naked before he ate you out like a wolf starved, he crawls a bit farther up the bed to tug your top from your body with warm hands on flesh, matching your steps from earlier. When he’s got your top,  pants, and panties off, he leans back to leer at your uncovered body, laying so pliant in just your lacy underwear. 

All for him. 

Matching his thoughts, Johnny cups your breasts through your bra and thumbs your peaked nipples, purring, “Is this all for me, Bonnie?”

You nod your head with a shuddered breath before remembering his command. 

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” 

Johnny continues his assault on your nipples, tugging and tweaking them to total hardness through your bra while kneading the fat of your breasts in his large, warm hands. He doesn’t forget his objective, though—he never fails the task he is given; he stops the assault on your top half to slide under you, forcing your back to arch prettily, thrusting your covered breasts towards him. Johnny uses the space to unhook your bra with one hand, helping you remove it from your arms before diving head-first into your chest, nuzzling his nose into the crevice between your tits, and inhaling through his nose noisily. 

“Steamin’ Jesus, Bonnie, you smell so good.” 

His words cause your body to heat up, squirming in his hold. He opens his mouth and laps at your skin like a dog, groaning throatily at the salty taste of your skin. 

“Johnny!” you squeak. 

Johnny pulls back with a smirk, mockingly saying, “Bonnie!” in a high-pitched voice. Then, looking straight into your eyes with his stormy blues, he orders, “Be a good girl and open yer legs for me.”

You’re useless against his accented voice, following his order without thought. Your thick thighs part, making a slight sticking noise from the wetness left from your weeping cunt. The glistening sight and moist sound of your wet heat causes Johnny to groan deep in his chest, his dick throbbing in his sweatpants. If he wasn’t careful, he would end up fucking you sooner than he wanted. So, instead of waiting any more, Johnny scoots down the bed, his feet hanging off the side, and lays down flat. His broad shoulders force your legs wider until he has your chub squished in his hand, dented with the force he’s exerting, dragging your legs over his shoulders, hovering by his ears. 

“Don’t be shy, Bonnie. I like it rough,” he says with a wink before diving into his meal. 

The first hot, slick swipe of his tongue over you has you keening, hips bucking into the feeling. However, you can’t move far because Johnny’s got his hands fastened across your hips like a seatbelt, holding you to his starving mouth. He continues licking from the bottom of your pussy all the way to your clit, flicking his tongue once he gets there. His scruff burns against your thighs, but it only makes you hotter. Your head is pushed back into your bed, neck bared, back arched sensually, and one of your hands grips Johnny’s brown mohawk with trembling fingers, the other gripping your sheets tightly. 

Your breathy noises and tangy taste drive Johnny crazy, right along with the way you feel: soft, pliable, squishy in his hands, so malleable and willing. You submit to his every word, every touch, every breath, and he can’t get enough. Gripping you harder at the hips—probably leaving bruises, though he’s a little satisfied by the thought of staking his claim—he drags you impossibly closer, burying himself in the smell and taste of you, muffling his groans in your skin. 

Moving on from lapping at the whole of you, Johnny instead focuses on your dripping entrance. He drags his tongue over it several times before dipping into you, hips bucking into the bed at being able to taste you from the source. Johnny continues dipping the tip of his tongue into you until you’re whining loudly, pleading for more. 

He sticks his whole tongue into your pussy, swirling it around and scooping more slick into his mouth as his eyes roll to the back of his head; Johnny could die here, and he wouldn’t be mad. Shaking his head back and forth, he rubs his nose on your clit, making you cry out. 

“Fuck, Johnny, please!” 

Following your pleading cries, Johnny eases his tongue out of you, instead latching his mouth onto your clit and sucking hard. Your eyes close in ecstasy, completely missing the sly smile that graces Johnny’s lips as he—reluctantly—removes one of his giant hands from your waist.

Suddenly, your eyes are flying open, and you’re nearly screaming as you’re filled with two thick fingers. 

“Mmmm, Bonnie, yer squeezing me so tight, and yer so wet. I can’t wait to break you on my cock.” he mumbles against your skin. 

With the thought of you stretching around his cock, Johnny ups the ante, pumping while crooking his fingers to hit the spongey spot at the front of your tight passage just right and sucking on your clit like it was his favorite candy. He has you screaming in minutes. 

Johnny’s fingers slow down to a gentle coaxing, and the suction of his mouth becomes gentle licks, helping you ride your orgasm down. He has wrung every drop of pleasure from you, leaving you relaxed and breathing heavily on the bed, thighs twitching with his gentle caresses. But he isn’t done with you yet. 

Popping his wet fingers into his mouth and sitting up, Johnny moans at the taste of you. 

Slapping your red, beard-chaffed thighs lightly with wet fingers, watching them jiggle, Johnny says, “Damn, lass, you taste so good. I could lay between your legs until I die.” 

Not waiting for a response, Johnny slides out of his sweatpants and releases his erection. Your eyes widen, and a dull throbbing begins at the bottom of your stomach as you watch him slap against his taught stomach. He is huge—huger than you’re used to—not the longest, but certainly the widest; Johnny’d had to have the fattest cock you’ve ever seen, brownish in color with an angry red, drooling tip. 

Noticing your look, Johnny says, “I ken, Bonnie, I ken. I’m a lot ta take, but we’ll make it fit.” 

At this, Johnny shuffles back between your thighs, lifting your legs so they fit over his hips. Taking a hold of his dick, Johnny pumps himself a few times, smearing his pre-come around his cock. Then, he slides it through your wetness, teasingly bumping your clit as he does, just to see your pretty lashes flutter as your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

And then he’s telling you to “Kepp those pretty eyes on me, lass,” using one hand to stroke your overheated cheek.

Your eyes snap open at his gentle command; the air of confidence and authority lacing his gravelly voice catches your attention through your haze. You would do anything he said—jump off a bridge, go running into a house fire, or set your home ablaze—if he used that tone. 

Now that he has your attention, he can finally get to splitting you open. Looking down at where you two meet, Johnny places his dick at your weepy entrance with barely-there pressure, causing him to groan slightly. He shakes his head to clear it before looking back at your eyes. 

“Can I, Bonnie? I promise I’ll be gentle.” 

A weak “mhm” is all you get out before the pressure builds, and he’s slipping his thick cock inside your tight pussy. Your eyes slam shut at the burning sensation, hands latching onto his muscular thighs and leaving crescent moon-shaped indents. One of his hands comes up to tap your cheek, reminding you to keep your eyes open. Then he’s bottoming out, curving just so that his head hits a spot you didn’t think existed. 

Johny sits, fully embedded into your fluttering cunt, breathing through his nose so as to not cum already. He leans down, pelvis hitting your clit, and catches you in a searing kiss, waiting for you to get used to the feeling of him stretching your gummy walls. When you start bucking your hips against him slightly, he pulls back from the kiss while pulling his hips back slightly before he’s sharply thrusting back into your wet heat. Your sharp exhale spurs him on, eyes lighting up in victory and a smirk curling at his lips. 

You can barely hold on as he rapidly picks up a punishing pace. Johnny angles his hips just right to consistently slam into the spot that makes you see stars, his hips slamming into yours with loud slapping sounds. Your whole body jiggles with his movements, entrancing Johny with the subtle movements. He knows he won’t last long, being as pent up as he is. But you’re close, too; he can tell with how tight you’re squeezing him. 

“I can feel how hard yer squeezing me, Bonnie,” he rasps, “I ken yer close…cum for me.” 

Johnny’s words, along with his authoritative tone and the hand he snuck between your sweating bodies to rub at your clit have your back arching and eyes snapping shut. A primal scream of his name leaves your throat while you’re cumming so hard that all you can see is white, and you lose your hearing. 

You’re squeezing Johnny so tight he’s almost pushed out of your wet heat, walls spasming so hard and so frequently. Your almost unintelligible moans of his name are what send him over the edge, folding him in half so he’s growling his release in your ear. His eyes are shut tight, blue eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his hips twitch sloppily as he rides out his orgasm, painting your innermost walls white.  

The world returns to focus as your hearing returns, and you flutter your eyes open blearily. The room, once a blur of shadows and soft glow, slowly sharpens into view. The sounds of heavy breathing and the rhythmic beat of your heart fill the air. 

Johnny, now pulling out and watching hiss cum dribble out of your fluttering cunt, is a silhouette against the ambient light, his features softened in the aftermath. A gentle calm settles over the space as the echoes of passion subside. The soft illumination bears witness to the aftermath of an unexpected encounter that unfolded in the shadows and soft glow of the night.

The night's warmth, both in the embrace of Johnny and the aftermath of shared intimacy, provides a comforting cocoon. As you lie cuddled up with him, the realization of how utterly fucked you are dawns upon you — you've grown attached in just one night. Unbeknownst to you, Johnny’s having the same thoughts as he cradles your soft body closer. 

As the night deepens, you and Johnny find yourselves entangled in each other's arms, sharing the same thoughts of attachment and connection. The soft glow of the room envelops you, casting a gentle light on the intertwined figures lost in the quietude of slumber.

The echoes of the night linger in each of your dreams. As you fall asleep in the embrace of shared warmth, visions of a life together dance through your subconscious. The dreams weave a tapestry of shared moments and whispered promises.

The room, once a witness to the intensity of passion, now cradles you both in the tranquility of sleep, the words once muttered by the Scot, “Imagine being loved by me,” ringing in your ears.

taglist: @tinygarbage @pamasaur @cool-iguana

[mychlapci]

https://www.tumblr.com/mychlapci/771594661556011008/apparently-its-fat-fuck-thursday-around-here-and?source=share

Well fuck that did it. He should cram his fat ass in there and he should get himself stuck and have to swallow his pride and get help.

He calls Megatron because he's the least likely to gossip about Minimus' situation. He's gotta squeeze his servos into the armor around all that fat, it just squishes and gives against his strong hands as Megatron tries to get a grip on Minimus to pull him out. He's holding handfuls of sweaty mesh as Minimus is squirming in his grasp to try and free himself. Every slight movement makes his fat belly wobble and press against Megatron as they try and get the stiff armor off that malleable mesh. Megatron is fighting for his life not to pop a boner, it's the worst when Minimus suggest they try to get his legs first and Megatron needs to hold those pudgy thighs to get him loose. It's hard to believe how much of himself Minimus jammed in the suit, he really was trying, just bit off far more than he could chew. Speaking of that, all the exertion of trying to get out of the armor is making Minimus pretty hungry. Maybe they just give it 5 and Megatron can feed him a swerveger while he's already stuck, can't hurt the situation any more -🌱

ouhhh god...

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event v2024

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader Style: cisfem Character: Black Leg Sanji Vibe: NSFW Consensual AU: Vampire AU Prompt: Aphrodisiac (AND forced proximity - worked out well) Gift Giver: @leftsidebonfire

Summary: You were so close to getting close with you vampiric benefactor, when a crack in the foundation sends you both into a tight spot in the older part of the manor.

Content Notes: forced proximity, aphrodisiac, accidental edging, frantic consent.

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

Sanji was in trouble.

Your body was soft against his, and this close he could feel everything. Your breasts squished against his chest, your soft fingers against his arms, and your thighs against his legs. The scent of you was maddening too, and there was no getting away from any of it.

At least he’d managed to keep you from getting cut or scratched when the two of you fell. Stuck between the walls of the old manor, he was sure, but there wasn’t much he could do about it right now. He had strength enough, but that strength would harm you as much as the cinder block, and he refused to risk it.

You were in trouble.

This close to the vampire you could feel just how strong he was. Body like cords of steel and silk, malleable and flexible, but completely immovable. You were certain the cinder block was going to be softer than him, but he seemed to be doing his best to help you get comfortable.

He smelled so good too. Even with all the dust and wood that had kicked up when the floor gave way, you couldn’t ignore the scents around him. Smoky, but savory, like warmed herbs in an oven. Something like dried flowers too.

You could feel his hands digging into the wall, like he was trying to give you as much space as possible.

“Um… thank you.” You say finally, still wriggling a little. Your feet weren’t quite on solid ground, and it was distracting to be leaning against him.

“Certainly,” he replies, voice thick, face turned away from you. “My apologies. I allowed myself to be so distracted by your beauty that I almost risked you harm.”

You nearly snort, laughing before you can say more. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just… cute. Corny,” you clarify. “But cute.”

You feel him twitch, and he puts a hand over his mouth. “Ah, my bad.” You start. “It’s probably not proper to call a vampire cute.”

“S’fine.” He mutters.

“Any ideas?”

Sanji coughs, and sputters a bit, and after a moment nods. “Once the sun sets I can transform.” He explains. “Unfortunately, we’re rather soundly stuck until then.”

“Welp.” You shift a little and something jolts through you. Gasping you grab onto Sanji who turns to look at you.

“Are you alright?”

You can feel warmth rush through your body, but you nod. “Y-yeah, it’s just… that flower smell.”

“Flower?” Sanji sniffs as he asks and suddenly puts a hand over your nose. “Shit.” He hisses the word under his breath and starts to move. The pressure of whatever he’s trying to do makes you hiss in a breath at the slight pain and he stops.

“My apologies for, uh, well.” Sanji clears his throat. “If I try to break the wall, I risk breaking you.” He shifts a little and pleasure jolts through you again. Sanji slaps a hand over his face, driving his head into the wall. “The flower scent is from something I thought I got rid of decades ago.”

Your body shivers, and the heat from earlier was settling between your legs. “Ah, it’s… hard to ignore.” You gasp. The more you try not to move, the more you seem to move. “Sorry, it’s…” You look up and gasp just as Sanji looks down at you.

Blue eyes shift red, and both his hands shoot past your head, embedding themselves into the other side of the wall. A small line of blood slips from his nose, and in your addled state you only just start to wonder how you’re able to see so well down here.

Right now though, you’re transfixed on that red line. Your body shifts against his, pressing into him heavier. Sanji tenses, eyes shut, hands practically stuck in the cinder block. You wiggle enough to stretch and lick the line of blood that’s reached his lip.

His eyes open wide, breathing stopped, watching you as you lick again. He starts to say something but you cup his face.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. “Please - kiss me.”

“You’re effected by the flower I,” he stammers, unable to pull his gaze away from your pleading eyes.

“Sanji. Please.” You assert, tugging his collar. “I’ve wanted you to do so before now.”

“I’m effected, too, I can’t -.” You shift, and his hips buck in response, the cry you let out breaks what little restraint he had left and he leans down and kisses you deeply.

Your fingers slip into his hair and you nearly pull yourself up with the grip. Sanji frees his hands from the blocks and grabs onto your hips. The kiss breaks as you roll your hips, steadying yourself against his grip. He hisses as his cock strains against his pants. You let out a breathy moan, the pleasure from the friction and the impact of the flower’s scent working you up.

“Sorry, Sanji, I’m sorry,” you murmur over and over, grinding against the trapped vampire.

His eyes glaze over a little bit and he starts helping you move. “It’s alright, it’s okay. We can, hnnngh! - tah-talk more, after, after this.” His toes curl in his shoes and he bites his lip to keep from gripping you too hard as the pleasure builds.

Pleasure and pain, his pants are entirely too tight, but the ache helps keep him grounded against the scent. He wants to bite you, to sink his teeth into your sweet skin, maybe just as you cum. How delectable would you taste then? How intoxicating?

He slams his head back, knocking the thoughts out of his mind. He can feel your body shivering against his, so soft and warm, as your breath fell against him, heavier and faster than earlier. He’d have to put his head through the wall to find any hope of relief, but he can’t avert his senses at this point.

You’re close, so close. Wet, desperate, and needy eyes have him held in place almost physically. He’s barely even breathing, shallow wisps sifting between his teeth.

“Sanji!” You cry as you nearly peak, but you’re denied at the last second, as the friction is gone and you drop a little. The space between the walls is much less crowded as a small bat flutters above you, his erratic flight path taking him further away in an incredible show of will power.

[reddesires]

wag bbg, I’m back on my journey to fill your inbox 💖💖

Another Raka head cannon request if that’s alright with you (Kinda NSFW tho)

How do you think he’d feel about big boobs? (Honestly I love my mine except I’m usually considered a slut for some reason)

I wonder if he like grabbing them or laying on them since big chest = Great pillows. And they get sensitive on periods so idk how he’d deal with that

Idk how to word that so I’m so sorry of any of that sounded weird 😭😭

Raka Boobie Headcanons (Implied NSFW)

A/N: Sorry it took a bit, I've been behind on requests, but hopefully, you'll like these headcanons it's not much, but it's got heart lol

•Oh Yeah, Raka is big on big boobies. I mean he's a big ape man so ofc he enjoys that some extra cushion for his head when he lays his head on your chest, a purr emitting from him when he nuzzles his face into your boobies especially enjoying when you run your fingers through his amber fur

•He likes the way your boobs squish against him when your cuddling yourself into him, the way you look up at him with an innocent expression on your adorable face but the seductive lure of your cleavage entirely blurring the lines of his image of you, your both cutely pure but sexy.

•When your period comes around and your boobie are tender, he indures your incessant whining and offers his service by gently massaging them for you, he'll even dip his hands in cold water to cool the radiating heat just so you could enjoy the coldness on your chest while he massages it (this is a personal favorite of mine to relieve the pain in my boobs when its tender).

•He's grown into the habit of surprising you from behind, grabbing your boobs and pulling you into his chest. It always pulls a mischievous laugh from you as his hands cup your breasts lovingly.

•He likes watching the way your boobs position with your every movement, it's almost like he's mesmerized by the roundness and softness of them, he's obsessed with how malleable they are as he knead into your breasts. The bounce and sheer size of them has his 110% attention. He loves your big boobies to the ends of the earth.

[ckret2]

I MAY HAVE just had a Ford kin moment reading your latest chapter. I legitimately read Bill saying "magics not real" and my first thought was "huh I wonder why he believes that. Maybe something about the semantics of the definition? or the context?" It SOMEHOW did not occur to me that sometimes Bill lies and is a liar. At this rate I am going to forget he's a triangle next. Great chapter by the way!

SDLHFLK Bill claims to be a trapezoid and everyone wonders which corner is actually a very tiny 4th side before remembering that sometimes he just lies recreationally. Calling that a Ford kin moment is so funny/accurate.

But actually: yeah, you're supposed to think that!! I wanted you to briefly take him at face value, and wonder: what's his definition of "magic" for him to say it's not real, is this an "any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" deal, does he know too much about the true inner workings of magic to call it that word anymore? What do we know now about Bill that we didn't know before, that he exists in a world where chanting bad Latin raises corpses into zombies and he can say "what's happening here isn't magic"?

But also he lies. In three days he might say "computers are magic, kid!" and expect you to take him just as seriously.

I think truth is malleable to him. Most of the things he says live in the fuzzy space between honest and dishonest, and even he doesn't settle on which they are unless he says something later on that retroactively establishes the level of (dis)honesty of the thing he said earlier. His idea of reality isn't steel-hard facts but soft mushy clay, and he squishes it around with his words not based on what he thinks is true but based on what feels right.

"Magic isn't real" means "magic isn't the proper mental framework through which to examine the current phenomenon or phenomena like it, therefore right now I am dispensing of it as an option to ensure that we examine the situation exclusively with non-magical tools," and also means "magic literally isn't real, you're mistaking other things for magic," but also magic literally IS real and Bill's just fucking around, unless magic isn't real and I'm the one fucking around by calling Bill's claim into question. The ambiguity goes all the way down, my friend. Magic is subjective; what is magic? Can you define it? Maybe Bill and the invisible narrative voice just have different definitions.

I think that while he said "magic isn't real" Bill believed magic wasn't real, but he probably changed his mind within thirty seconds. It's really easy to sound confident in a lie when you buy your own bull.

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

I can't stop thinking about this with Steve and Bucky College AU A jock who's running late to training so he's a little absentminded as he rushes into the locker rooms where his other teammates are already ready and waiting, and as he's working, one by one they hand him gainer/protein shake like they typically drink before every session, and he's so worried about being late and he's got so much that he has to do and he's beating himself up for sleeping in or something, that he doesn't even question it and drinks every single bottle of drink that is handed to him, thanking them over his shoulder as he guzzles it down like water and moves on, and he does it again and again and again and his teammates don't stop him because it's almost too fascinating to watch the effects, and by the time their coach calls them for training, his belly is huge and swollen with sloshes with every movement, and it drives him insane as he goes through drills and training and the like, and his teammates can hear is sloshing and bubbling away angrily when they stand beside him, the size of it bulging underneath his uniform, somehow both taut and solid and soft and malleable at the same time with all the thick shake he has incidentally consumed. By the end of the training session, he's absolutely aching, his swollen gut red and taut and angry, and he stips off his uniform and falls into a heap with a pained groan, and his teammates take pity on him (and are also fascinated by this new development) and they rub his tummy and play with him and he's too out of it to even pay them any attention, the fullness and exertion from training making him sleepy and the relief he's getting the only sensation he can really focus on, not caring how he's receiving it, and even though they feel a little bit bad about not stopping him from drinking like 12 bottles of protein/gainer shake in a single sitting, they're also already thinking about how they can trick him into drinking even more next time they get the chance, and maybe the time after that, and a time after that too...

I can absolutely imagine this happening with Steve (and by that I think I really mean that I want this for Steve most).

On the one hand, it's already hot enough for him to end up with this bulging protein gut that sloshes and wobbles throughout practice, leaving him sweating more than normal and trying his hardest to stifle belches behind his hand, his cheeks bright pink from the embarrassment and exertion. The weight of his gut is throwing off his performance in practice but so is the fact that it, like, feels good. It's got some level of hotness and pressure that's familiar - like his filled gut, bulging out of his usually loose uniform, is somehow analogous to what it feels like to be balls deep in pussy. Hot, tight, and with all those dirty, wet sounds. It's not the same, but... it's close enough that Steve's jersey isn't the only thing too tight. His shorts are tented obscenely (not that you'd see it under the distracting, jiggling dome of his belly).

On the other hand, this is made much hotter to me by the idea of the bro-ness of it all. The hyper-masculine environment, rub some dirt on it. C'mon, Rogers, suck it up - maybe suck it in, right, bro? 'Atta boy, they encourage him, slapping him on the shoulder, trynna help him get his head into the game. When he takes laps around the court with the other guys, wheezing, gut jostling, sloshing, bubbling, and churning audibly, as they pass him, they slap his ass and wolf-whistle, telling him he outta be careful or people are gonna start thinking he's a baby momma from behind with that tight ass and wide sides. And when he's trying to do push-ups, uncentered by his bulging gut swinging underneath him, getting squished against the polished, wooden floor every time he lowers himself down, pushing burps out of him with the pressure, they're mercilessly teasing him. Laughing at his belches, egging him on, trying to get him to make them louder and louder so they echo around the gym. Then, they start smacking the side of his gut or pressing on it with their sneakers, softly kicking him, teasing him about hitting the parties too hard, Rogers? drinking too much beer, huh, man? and what's this, dude, you trynna get your gut size to match your arms and those tits? and don't you know chicks don't like that, right? Gotta lay off the snacks or somethin'. You suck it in when you fuck 'em, hm? Or do you just take 'em from behind, doggy style so they don't see it? It's all locker-room talk that should make Steve feel terrible but it doesn't. He's purely distracted by all the attention. It feels good, even if it hurts - the slaps, the pressure, the pokes, and the prods. It all amounts to this aching throb over the entirety of his swollen gut, bobbing in front of him. If the team is like this out in the gym, Steve can't imagine what they'll be like once he stumbles back into the locker room, energized from the workout while Steve is exhausted. How much are they gonna grab and pinch and grope him then? What are they gonna do to him? Are they gonna lift him up and shove him under the showers, stripping him down to push the shower hose down his throat and keep filling him up? Steve knows all of 'em keep a couple of extra bottles of Gatorade kicking about in their lockers, are they gonna bust 'em out, pool 'em together, and goad him into chugging more? Ah, fuck. Why is Steve's mouth suddenly dry? Why is he thirsty? Oh, God. Why does he want it? All their hands on him... some of them making his gut feel better, some of them making it worse, all of them talking to him, teasing him, praising him, egging him on. More, c'mon, Rogers, just a little more. Chin up, dude, you got it, I know you do. You got that dog in you. Do it, baby, do it!

When one of the guys mentions it looks like they took one of the basketballs and shoved it up his ass, then inflated it in his gut, Steve almost falls to his knees right then and there. Oh, fuck, it does look like he has a whole basketball in his stomach.

🥵🥵🔥

[dingbatnix]

Slime

Who's ready for some angst?

So anyway I have a different fic (the snippet I posted just a second ago) I wanted to do for valentine's, but that one is nowhere near finished, and this one is, so. Y'know.

It's kinda badly written, buuuut I don't care. I'm so very tired o~0

Anyway, enjoy!

Warnings:: Fear of death, dehumanization, ect.

Word Count: 3,070

Karl can't speak in his gummy/true form—which I've decided to use for angst.

He is a relative of the slime family, kinda like Slimecicle, but Karl can’t really control his form when he’s stressed/has lost too much mass. He mostly violet/purple, but his limbs do have a slight gradient to blue/teal. He is much younger than Slimecicle, and has not lived in a hole for centuries, so he has a much, much better understanding of retaining a human form and shape than Charlie does.

So anyway, he gets stuck in his true form for some reason, like exhaustion or stress.

It's equated to damage, like slime hybrids in osmp. He gets attacked by a mob of zombies, loses his ability to retain human-ish shape, and loses enough mass to be small, like a foot tall small. If he had enough to eat, and wasn't super stressed, maybe he'd be able to gain back enough mass to become his human self again, but, as it is, he can't.

And he can't speak, either. His two fiancés, Sap and Q, don't know about his true form, and he's scared of what they might do to him if they catch him (while Sap and Q are very kind to him, in his human form, he didn't want to risk it. Quackity had a mean streak twenty miles wide, and Sapnap did enjoy killing things. Especially pets. What if he got mistaken for a hostile mob? He was a slime, after all) so, he tries to hide in Kinoko.

But! After a few too many close calls, he decides that it would be better for him to go somewhere else, so he travels out of Kinoko into the main Smp. This leads to him getting caught by some curious people (Tubbo, Ranboo, and Michael) who think that Karl's just a strange, somewhat intelligent, mob. They end up keeping him in a cage as a cool new pet, and poor Karl doesn't have anything to write with or signify that he's not an animal, dangit. A pencil wouldn't really be much use, because he didn't actually have fingers in his slime form, but still. He could have worked it out.

The teens weren't so bad, he supposed, but they treat him like he’s a cat or a dog or something, and it just feels demeaning. So, he devises a plan to escape. It’s really not that hard, actually, he just has to squish his malleable body through the bars of his kennel and make his way out the door. The snow outside poses a bit of a problem for his semi-liquid body, but he is the consistency of jello. It helps him a little bit, but some of his body mass freezes off, leaving him even smaller. Eventually, though, he manages to get out of the tundra and starts making his way back to Kinoko, because even if he gets caught and treated like a pet by Sap, Q and Goggy, at least it'd be safer. At least it'd be by people he trusted. At least it'd be by the people he loved. And even if they kill him, at least he wouldn’t have to live as somebody’s pet anymore.

Meanwhile, Sap and Q are freaking out, cause they can't find Karl anywhere, and it's bordering on four weeks that he's been missing. They’ve nearly turned the Smp upside-down looking for him, and unfortunately, nobody else has seen Karl, either.

So when Karl finally makes it out of the tundra, he still can't change back. He's just so stressed with everything going on, so when he eventually gets to Kinoko, he's faced with a choice: hide again, or show himself to try and communicate with the other residents of Kinoko.

He made the easy choice. He decides to find his fiancés.

The two were in the courtyard, Quackity reading through some documents piled next to him and Sapnap sparring against a training dummy. He approached them carefully, hiding behind barrels and building fixtures until he was close enough to reveal himself to Quackity. (He was not going near Sapnap with a sword, not when he looked like this. That was a good way to get cleaved in half.

He finally revealed himself to Quackity, stepping out from the shadows and tugging on the avian’s pant leg. Quackity shrieked, flailing enough to tip his wicker chair over and scatter his papers across the stones of the courtyard. Sapnap heard Quackity scream and was running in a flash, brandishing his sword towards Karl as he sprinted over.

Karl’s heart stopped. He had the opportunity to run, in the short time before Sanap arrived and speared him through, but…this was the first time he had seen either of his fiancés since he first got stuck like this. It had been nearly a month. And now, Sapnap was about to kill him, and they’d. They’d never know. They’d never know that it was him.

Karl’s legs wobbled, and then all but melted beneath his body. He threw his arms over his head and curled in on himself, his entire being quivering in fear and despair. He didn’t want to see Sapnap kill him, didn’t want to see one of the loves of his life deliver the final blow.

Sapnap skidded to a stop just as he reached them, head cocking in confusion as the little purple slime folded in on itself upon his arrival. The entire mass was wiggling, almost like it was afraid of him. Curiously, he poked it with the tip of his sword and was rewarded by it unfurling and trying to scramble away on its back. Beady little dot eyes blinked at him, wide and glimmering in the morning light.

"Hey! It's colored like one of Karl's hoodies! Like, y'know, the blue and purple one?" Sapanp realized, a grin spreading across his face as he shot a glance at Quackity. The avian, who had been crouched behind his overturned wicker chair, peeked over it at the slime's splayed out body. Sapnap was right. It did look like one of Karl’s hoodies.

“So it does,” he agreed, climbing to his feet and approaching Karl. “It…it seems more scared than hostile.” Karl nodded frantically at the avian’s words, scooching backwards as Quackity grew closer. Quackity paused in surprise and shared a look with Sapnap. He waved at the fireborn to put away his sword and turned back to the shivering slime on the ground.

“Hey,” he murmured, crouching slowly down to inspect the little slime. “Can you understand us?” At Karl’s hurried nod, a pensive frown stretched across his face. “...can you speak?”

Karl slowly shook his head, feeling strangely ashamed.

After some contemplation, he turned back to Sapnap with a curious expression on his face. “I think it’s like Charlie. Just…not quite as developed, maybe? Cause Charlie can talk, even when he’s small.”

Sapnap snorted out a small laugh. “Don’t let Charlie hear you say that. He’ll freak out over his ‘cover’ being blown.” All the same, he joined Quackity in inspecting Karl.

Karl deflated at the remark. While it wasn’t meant to hurt him, it still smarted. Charlie was older than he was! By several centuries! Of course he’d have better control over his body!

He waved his arms furiously, gesturing towards himself, and then towards Sapnap and Quackity. He was trying to tell them that it was him, that he was Karl, but they just didn’t seem to understand!

He couldn't sign either, he didn't. Have. Fingers.

He was still himself! He was still Karl…he guessed the others didn't realize that. He guessed they couldn't tell. They wouldn't have any reason to think that he, the strange little slime creature that wandered up to them, was their fiancé.

Unbidden, his eyes started to burn, and tears sprung to his eyes. Karl scrubbed at his eyes furiously. He didn't want to cry! Of all the things he couldn't do in his slime form, why wasn't crying one of them?!

"It's crying! Dude, I think you hurt its feelings! What do we do?" Sapnap exclaimed, tail twitching and flicking anxiously. Quackity shrugged, eyes guilty. “I dunno, man! I didn’t know slimes could cry! Charlie never has!”

Sapnap bit his lip, thinking, then scooped Karl up into his arms. “Hey, it’s okay, little guy. I know Quackity can be a dick sometimes, but don’t take it to heart. It’ll be okay, okay?” Sapnap ignored the affronted noise that the avian made and gently stroked his fingers over Karl’s head while making cooing noises. Karl took the gesture of comfort for what it was, burying his head against Sapnap’s chest and sobbing into the fireborn’s shirt. He poured the pent-up emotions of being trapped in a cage for days and treated like an animal, of being half frozen, of being afraid and unable to speak for weeks into Sapnap’s shirt, soaking it through with fluids he probably couldn’t afford to lose. If he kept crying like he was, he'd start losing more mass. He didn’t want that. Not when it was so hard to gain back.

Karl cries for a long, long while. Sapnap and Quackity don’t really know what to do, because that’s obviously not because of Quackity’s remark, but something that had built up over time.

They decide to take in the little slime, letting it live with them as long as it wanted to.

For Karl, their decision was a godsend, because he could rest and recover in a familiar place, with people he loved. He was allowed to roam wherever he wanted (which is a step up from the cage Tubbo had him in) and he stayed with at least one of his fiancés every day. Unfortunately, he was still stuck in his slime form, no matter what he tried.

Despite everything, Sapnap was rather…dense. And most of the time, Quackity was either busy with his affairs with Las Nevadas, or he was looking for Karl. Neither of them ever realized that he was with them, nearly all of the time.

And no matter how much he tried, he couldn't get his hands on an inked quill and a piece of paper. The frustration had reduced him to stinging tears, and it took him a while more before he gave up and accepted that he'd probably never get to tell his fiancés who he was.

It was fine. He would be fine.

He would.

_______

Quackity found himself becoming rather fond of the little slime over the few weeks it had been with them, and he was absolutely delighted on the days it decided to hang around with him. It usually alternated between himself and Sapnap, and sometimes didn’t go with either of them, but today it had decided to spend its time with him.

Right now, it was hanging from his neck like a sloth, or perhaps a koala would, as he made his way along one of the many paths of Las Nevadas. He was headed to the casino today, needing to do a checkup on the slot machines and make sure that nobody had tampered with anything.

A green, semi-translucent figure bounced towards Quackity, and a fond smile grew across his face as Charlie barreled closer. He raised a hand in preparation to greet the slime. Charlie’s face lit up, and he sped towards Quackity at a much more rapid pace, his own gelatinous arm raised to meet the avian’s.

"Hello, Quackity from Las Nevadas! Hello, Karl from Kinoko Kingdom!" A green palm slapped his own, but Quackity was too startled to respond to the slime’s exuberant greeting. Karl was here?!

Quackity jerked ramrod straight, and his head whipped from side to side, wildly searching the surrounding buildings. "Karl?"

The little purple slime frantically patted Quackity's chest, nearly losing its one-armed grip around the avian's neck. Quackity looked down at it with sad eyes, confusion clear in his face.

Karl slapped his own chest, staring imploringly at the big avian. To his utter disappointment, Quackity looked away from him and back up at Charlie.

"Wh–where's Karl, Charlie? Where did you see him?" The avian sounded desperate, and it hurt, to hear Quackity call for him when he was right there. Karl’s eyes stung, and he sent a pleading look Charlie’s way. The bigger slime met his gaze, and a small, sympathetic grin formed over his face.

Very gently, the bigger slime leaned forward and patted one green hand on top of Karl's head. "Karl from Kinoko Kingdom." The green slime said plainly, moving his gaze from Karl up to Quackity’s.

Karl nodded frantically, twisting his hand-nubs into Quackity's rumpled dress shirt and bracing his legs against the avian’s sternum. He pulled himself up, high enough that he was face-to-nose with Quackity, and waved frantically between himself and Charlie. His movements were so violent that he lost his grip, and panic strummed though his body when he tipped backwards and fell.

His back smacked against something oddly lumpy, and he realized that Quackity had brought his hands up to catch him, even while he was staring at him as if he was in some kind of daze.

Finally, Quackity blinked several times and hesitantly brushed his thumb along Karl’s arm, almost as if he thought the slime would disappear at a moment's notice.

“Y-You’re Karl?!” His voice was shaking, and his eyes were watering. Karl nodded frantically, curling one of his hand-nubs around Quackity’s thumb. The line of the avian’s mouth wavered, and he wiped his eyes on his shoulder before turning to Charlie.

"Charlie, why can't he talk?"

"He's been de-gooped, Quackity from Las Nevadas. He doesn't have enough of himself to form properly." Charlie paused for a long moment, then. "Not that I know anything about that, seeing as I am a perfectly normal human being with perfectly normal human bones."

Quackity didn’t bother answering, instead staring down at the little purple slime draped over his hands. Karl had been with them the entire time…? Karl had been with them while they were looking for him…

An incredulous laugh escaped from his lips, and soon, he found himself doubled over, Karl clutched to his chest, cackling like a madman as a wave of emotion overcame him.

Karl found himself squished against a layer of smoky cotton as he was squeezed to Quackity’s chest in a desperate hug, the scent of cigarettes and the dusty smell of sand pervading his senses from the tight embrace.

After what felt like too much time and not enough, Quackity loosened his grip on Karl’s body, and his laughter petered out. A doofy grin still decorated his face, and his eyes were scanning over Karl like he’d never seen him before.

Seconds later, his eyes widened, and his grin grew. “I gotta tell Sapnap! Holy fuck he’s gonna be so happy!”

Quackity shifted Karl to one arm and pulled his communicator out with the other. It took him a few seconds to do it one handed, but Karl saw him pull up Sapnap’s contact and hit call. It rang for a few moments, before their third picked up. “Yea–”

“Sapnap, Sapnap, I fucking found Karl.” Quackity didn’t even pause to let Sapnap get a word in, bowling over anything the other man had to say. “Sapnap, he’s the fucking slime, he’s fucking been here the whole goddamn time!”

“Oh my fucking god.”

“I fucking know!” Quackity grinned down at Karl, cradled in the crook of his left arm. Karl waved back up at him, eyes scrunched up in joy.

“I’m headed over there right now. Don’t you two fucking move, got it?”

Quackity laughed and planted himself on a bench on the side of the road, pulling Karl into his lap and hugging the little slime to his chest. “We won’t, we won’t. We’ll be here, dude.”

Quackity hung up and shoved his communicator back into his pocket. His other arm circled around Karl’s pliable body, and he looked down at the slime, eyes wide with wonder.

“Dude, what the fuck,” he whispered, and all Karl could do was shrug, chest feeling lighter than it had in a long, long while.

Charlie wandered away while they waited, stating that he needed to go check his holes (Quackity needed to fill some of those in, he’d nearly broken his ankle about eight times) leaving the two of them to wait for their third.

When Sapnap finally arrived, he made a beeline for the little purple slime resting in Quackity’s lap, sprinting through town and skidding to a stop right in front of them.

He immediately reached for Karl, his warm hands surrounding his torso and his thumbs pressing against Karl's chest. He was plucked up from Quackity’s arms before he could blink, and then he was brought towards Sapnap’s face.

The huge fireborn pressed a kiss against Karl’s face, lips as big as his head smothering against his face. He leaned into it, wrapping his arms around Sapnap's cheeks and jawline in an awkward hug. It was a good thing he didn't technically breathe through his nonexistent mouth, because he'd be suffocating from how long his face was being squashed into Sapnap's lips.

Then he was being squished against the fireborn's stubbled cheek, a deep, elated purr jiggling his entire body. Karl leaned into it, burying his face into Sapnap's cheek and wrapping himself in the familiar, comforting scent of charcoal and dirt. It felt different now, now that they knew.

Sapnap held him at arms length, hands still wrapped firmly around his chest. Karl’s legs dangled limply below, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Sapnap asked earnestly. Karl shot him a flat look and getsured first at his mouthless face, then at his fingerless hand-nubs, and then finally over his whole body in general. The fireborn winced, realizing that Karl physically couldn’t.

It was fine now, though, because they finally knew.

When they finally went to bed that night, he was cocooned between their chests, in a warm embrace formed by the blanket and the two bodies of his fiancés. He wasn’t a pet, he wasn’t dead, and they. Knew.

He still couldn’t build up enough body mass to grow back to normal size and retain his human shape, but it was more bearable now, now that his fiancés knew who he was.

Taglist!

@brick-a-doodle-do @i-am-beckyu @da3dm @kayla-crazy-stuffs @local-squishmallow @skullsnbruises @munchkin1156 @gt-daboss

[kosmicdream]

answered some OTP questions from some post i found for Knife/Spoon, altho specifically Knife/Scissor.. more of a little writing exercise i guess

How did they meet?

Knife hunted him down for his space crimes. It was kind of an unusual target because Knife usually doesn’t go back to DMTIA, but Simon kicked up enough fuss to draw attention across the solar system, as well as claiming to be a McGold. Obviously, once they met Knife made arrangements to get Simon hired by thumb instead of imprisoned. 

How long have these two characters known each other?

Honestly its changed a couple times bc i’m bad at math, but im pretty sure its around 80 years. 

What were their first impressions of each other? How does that compare to their impressions of each other now?

Simon was excited to meet Knife and wanted to make a big impression because of his fame but was initially really disappointed with Knife and kind of threw a tantrum. Because he was already throwing one because Nail ruined his plans by fighting Knife first. Not having things go exactly his way with the encounter made him spiral and impulsively do things. He complained the entire flight back to the stars and Knife had to keep him restrained because he kept trying to fight or like crash the ship into an asteroid. Knife thought Simon was the kind of weird funny freak that would work well at Thumb and be a good asset to the team, plus he was so pathetic he kind of felt bad for him and squishing the worm friend he had. 

Their impressions now are kind of ?????.. How would i even summarize it.. Umm.. In a strange way I think Knife idolizes the aspect of Simon’s personality that seems unaffected by guilt, without really understanding that Simon is affected by guilt and is constantly propelled by his own panic. He just avoids accountability and has a facade he upholds. I would say Simon is still very good at adapting to unusual situations on the fly, despite how extreme they are, but his upbringing caused him to be accustomed to overstimulation. The reason why Knife idolizes this false perception of how Simon copes with his guilt is because I think he wants to be able to be a bit more like Simon and reach some kind of moral clarity, even if its not an appropriate or even “good” one. In some ways, i think he wants Simon to fix what’s wrong with him somehow. I would say this isn’t the attitude Knife had in the entire course of their relationship, at first he wanted to maintain a really different dynamic between them and ruled it with an iron grip - before things got too complicated. But at this stage in the story, Knife’s very emotionally lost and is using Simon as an anchor and thus putting him in a bit of a pedestal. He is actually physically sick though and does need help there, which Simon probably is the only person who can provide that care. 

Simon’s opinion of Knife is that he’s generally very frustrated with him because of how stubborn he is, which has always been difficult to obey the RULES because Knife’s rules have been contradictory. At this point he’s kind of on edge, because um. Knife came back to life suddenly, is also sick and also apparently is more malleable in his plans than ever before.. Which up until this point, has never really been his thing. It makes him a bit suspicious but he is curious what else has changed. He also is straight up terrified about it but he has to deal because this is possibly his last chance with making things right between them. 

How would they describe each other if asked? Physically? In personality?

Knife isn’t gonna say anything fdkhfg Simon would just complain and insult Knife if asked. But that’s all fake you know he would go on rants about how perfect Knife is and the reason he’s still alive. 

Do they get along? Why or why not?

Do they????? The boys have a lot of relationship problems RN that have stacked up for decades but i’m still inclined to say yes. They at least are able to work as a team on the fly if the situation is tense enough (like anal prolapse.) 

Do they have any shared interests/hobbies? Do they ever do these hobbies together?

Murdering.. I guess.. JK they do dance as a couple which both enjoy. They also enjoy racing videogames but Simon almost always wins. 

How often do they see each other? Where do they usually meet?

I mean they used to live together, so they saw eachother every day. Even when they were living separately while Fork was growing up, They’d visit frequently or see eachother at work. It was usually Knife going to Simon’s place in the middle of the night though. 

How do they communicate with each other? Are there any recurring phrases or gestures unique to their relationship?

I feel like this is a complicated one to answer but I’d say that Knife allows and even gets pleasure from Simon hurting him, which he doesn’t really enjoy pleasure without that context. Alternatively, Simon doesn’t enjoy tenderness unless its from Knife. Even if he has a positive relationship with Cash, if she gets too into feelings it gives him the ick. So that’s usually only saved for serious moments, which usually have the mood deflated by a joke or something to balance out things from being too genuine. But with Knife he can be really tender and genuine without hating the experience. 

What is one quality they have in common?

Desperation?

What is one major difference between them?

Simon loves Knife but Knife does not love Knife, which causes a lot of problems. Knife Loves Simon but Simon doesn’t really know himself, so he thinks whatever Knife loves is whatever he is doing so he wants to keep doing that right so Knife loves him. 

Does one act as a narrative foil to the other? How so?

Oh probably. But if you ask me I’m not exactly sure what it is yet since there are so many foils and narratives in ffak lol

Do they have any affection for each other? How do they show it?

Knife climbs into Simon’s skin and Simon goes “squee!.” Also Simon does boring mundane life stuff with Knife to help him have that “normal life fantasy” that he craves so much. 

Do they have any disdain/contempt for each other? How do they show it?

Oh sure they do. Knife feels betrayal for the cheating, but Simon feels betrayal for Fork replacing him and you know Knife faking his own death. Knife shows it by avoiding all his loved ones for years i guess. Simon doubles down on bad behavior to upset Knife worse but that only makes everyone more miserable.

Do they share the same goals in life?

They used to have the same killing everyone goal yeah, but not anymore. At least for Simon, he’s got new ones.

Do they trust each other? Why or why not?

IDK .. they both navigate “trust” in a really toxic codependent twisted way, but at least in their minds they “completely” trust eachother - but that also kind of includes the aspects of the other they trust is very unpredictable and unclear. Instead of open communication, they’ve kind of accepted it as an aspect of the other person rather than trying to change it or properly address it. I’d say at this point, Simon does not trust Knife as much as he used to, by a severe amount. Knife at the moment is putting too much trust in Simon, without realizing that he might be mislead or lied to about things, because he feels he’s the one who has wronged more in the relationship at this point. (even with Simon’s cheating.) 

Is one of them keeping secrets from the other? Why? How would they react if the secret was revealed?

Well, I’m not gonna say how they’d react! But both of them are keeping secrets from eachother, although Knife is very willing to lay it all out on the table finally. He isn’t really giving Simon enough breathing room to process it all. 

Are they keeping a secret together? How do they feel about that?

They were keeping their relationship a secret from Fork. Which Simon hated doing, but was serious about keeping it for Knife. 

Do they view their relationship as temporary or permanent?

Both view it pretty permanent. I think that’s something that’s been maintained even before they dated and the roles were more mentor/student. Simon fixated into the “devoted follower” role faster than he realized. 

Are they satisfied with their relationship? Do they wish they were closer/more distant?

They were very satisfied, now its a mess and has been that way for decades. Both wanted to make it back to what it was but Simon sees that as impossible, so he wants to make it into something better - at least hoping that growth will be the best answer to their problems than trying to recreate their old dynamic. The hardest part will be actually letting go from that, which is easier said than done and Simon already can tell he’s going to struggle keeping that goal in mind. 

What is their best memory together?

Hard to say, cause its not really specific. More like “walking around somewhere with him” is probably what they both think of the most. 

What is their worst memory together?

The big “kicking you out” breakup. Or Knife discovering Simon’s sexual relationship with Cash LOL. That was an ugly fight. Simon’s worst is uh, I guess Knife dying and fixating on their last encounter, which he thought was their last one. 

When were they the most vulnerable with each other?

Hard to say, they’ve certainly been vulnerable plenty of times. 

Do they have any mutual friends? Mutual enemies?

Knife doesnt have any friends LMAOOOOOO yeah they probably got 1 billion mutual enemies. Nail/Mop is probably one which comes to mind the quickest.

How do these two interact with each other in public versus in private?

Well in public they’re kind of vaguely distant with obvious tension, in private its very mushy gushy romance. 

If a stranger saw them together, how would they describe their relationship?

I dunno, they’d probably assume Knife hated all the affectionate attention Simon gives him. He’s just a tsundere. 

How would these characters react to being stuck in a small room with each other?

They’d be surprisingly okay for a while. Although i think Knife would start to have a traumatic panic attack and hurt Simon idk.

How far would they go for each other? Would they risk their own lives for each other?

TOO far. Of course they’d risk their own lives!!!!! this is anime!