#giant x human

[fanaticsnail]

Dreaming of You

Series Masterlist

Word count: 2,300+

Synopsis: He couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in his dreams. The way he had you wrapped around his body as a marionette in his minds, dancing for them as he awoke to sticky blankets when he jolted upright. His thoughts got the better of them, and he wanted to make them a reality.

Warnings: king x afab!reader, size difference, monsterfucking, wet dreams, NSFW, MDNI, 18+, smut, grinding, degradation, praise, (pet names: little star, little one, pet, slut), masturbation, size kink, bukkake, dubcon, masturbating while listening to masturbating. It does not fit.

Notes: This one got away with me. First time writing for King. There is a large size difference.

Sitting on a large throne within the dark room, the lunarian King took residency over his dominion. Wisps of smoke-like vapors flooded the outer perimeter as you approached the giant bench made for kneeling. Your gown lay in a deep ‘v’ cut down to your naval, dual leg slits rising to your hip bones on either leg. Holding your head high, you held your arms out either side of you as you looked down your nose at him and hardened your quaking emotions.

Helmet lain askew by his side, he beckoned you in closer with a coax of his large finger. “Closer, little star. Don't be shy. A little closer for me.”

He watches as your eyes drift down to his other hand, wrapped around his cock and slowly pistoning the hard shaft within his soft, vice-like grip. The length of his cock was almost the height of your body from the balls of your feet, to the tip of your diaphragm. His girth was the width of your torso, thick and veiny while throbbing in deep desire.

Not ignoring the bob in your throat at such a request, he allowed a low growl to pass through his lips at your hesitation.

“I will not ask again, pet,” his lips curled back as he snarled at you, the creases in his eyes at his deep furrow warning you of the danger you were in at this request. “You wanted this. You asked for this. You said you would do it,” he rose from the seat, towering over you at his full height, “So do it.”

Gulping back your fear of the right hand of Kaido, you nod at him and slowly approach his throne, ushering him down with a soft and calm gesture of your hands. He sighed out through his nose, slouching back into his seat with a gruff huff, lazily fisting at his cock as he watched your sultry approach.

Reaching up to the mid of your gown, you tugged at the drawstring and revealed your bare form to him while attempting to conceal your joy at the small shudder in his jaw at your appearance. Bare for his eyes only, you nodded at him and slowly walked up the steps towards the throne.

“What made you make such a lewd suggestion, little star?” He asked, reaching his hand out towards you as you approached. You tilted your head to the side, almost brushing your scalp against the tip of his cock as you stood between his legs.

“Curiosity,” you utter with a soft hum. Looking down through the corner of your eyes, he noticed you assessing his size as you stood beside his cock. He noticed how close it was in size to you, his lips curling up into a smirk as he compared the size of his tip to your head. You playfully stood flush beside it for him to make the true comparison.

“And is your curiosity satisfied?” he asked, releasing your fingers from his hand and reclining back onto the seat. You hum in falsified thought, tapping your chin before you reach for his cock and giving it a gentle caress.

“Almost,” you smirk back at him, mirroring his dark playfulness to match his energy. “How do you want me?” You ask, truly curious while looking around the room. It was his turn to him in thought, never thinking about the technicalities of such a tryst, only the desire that came from the request.

“When you're alone, how do you picture me? On-top of you, beneath you, above you, below you?” He smirked, noticing your fluster as you bit your lip, “I know you do, pet. Talk to me.” You gulp back as he stoops lower.

“Do you grind yourself down, pressing that pretty cunt into your hand or pillow, and rock your hips like a needy little slut?” He huskily purred at you, watching the heat rise in your face and bottom lip quiver, “Or do you lie on your back and use those little digits to roll your clit against them until your back arches. C’mon, little star. Tell me what you like to do when you picture me.”

You gulp, stuttering in your mind before words could even form coherent strings between your lips. His grin widens at your silence, toying and fussing at your bare skin with his fingers.

“Or maybe you like to stand, hm? Stand up with your legs parted on your tip-toes while you picture my fat cock pistoning through them?” your breath hitches at the filth pouring from his lips, not escaping your notice how his cock bobs and twitches at each suggestion. “C'mon, little one, talk to me. Tell me how you picture me when you think about riding my cock. There is no way it will fit inside you, so you better tell me-.”

“-I like grinding,” you hurriedly confess, finally stifling your nerves enough to inform the gargantuan of your preferences, “I like being on top and rolling my hips down. I like the feeling of my clit being overwhelmed by every rocking movement I make against my hands, or a pillow.” King chuckles and leans back in his chair with a deep sigh in gratuity, pumping his shaft in languid motions.

“Go on, pet. What happens, hm?” he prodded you, causing you to nod at him as you continue.

“I like to picture you as you are here, sat on a chair with your cock in your palm,” you profess your desires to the larger man without shame, approaching him with intentional strides, “I like to picture me straddling your cock and gliding my slick pussy against your shaft while you use me. Taking me in both hands and using my body to masturbate with.” He grinned at you, his eyes darkening as a deep growl purred from the pit of his gut.

“And then?” he continued, his hands picking up, pinching the blunt tip of his cock as his arousal pooled from the head of his cock and began to gather in his digits.

“Then, I picture your cum painting my body from head to toe,” you whisper your final confession while placing soft kisses to his hot shaft, “And then I cum so fucking hard I see stars. I cry for you.” He growled, halting his motions and circling your waist with one of his hands.

“That sounds marvelous. But with two slight adjustments,” he easily hoisted you in the air without effort, drawing you up to his face as he purred at you. “One: you're going to be beneath me. I want to see those pretty eyes roll back in your skull when you cum.”

You whimper as he moves you down to his cock, parting your thighs and mediately slotting himself against you.

“And, two:” he moved your arms and legs to hook around him from beneath and lock you in place by your own arms, “You're going to cum before me. Got that? You're gonna cum so fucking hard for me, everyone's gonna hear you scream.”

In one hand alone, he rocked your body against his hot shaft. The veins of his underside ground themselves against your glistening pussy and caused you to cry out. This was far better than anything you had ever imagined of him, or attempted to stimulate yourself on. No grinding pad, vibrator, hands, other cocks or pillows had come close to the throbbing cock currently wrapped within the grasp of your body.

Rocking his hips, he ensured your ass and thighs were supported by his smallest and unity fingers. Your back was circled by his index and middle while he pressed his palm up against your hips to ensure you were flush against him.

“Keep-... Fuck-... Keep your arms wrapped around me, little star,” he ordered, continuing to use your body to grind onto himself with. “Legs too. Lock them at the ankles and grind that pretty cunt against me. I can feel how slick you are. How wet you are for me.”

You let out a soft mewl in protest to his words, but the feeling of his thick cock was too good on you to care. Doing as he asked, you clasped your ankles together while embracing his shaft by circling them around him. His tip was so close to your face, you could see how much desire he had for you in the soft pearlescent dewdrop expelling itself from his slit.

Rocking your hips in time with his slow motions, you felt your chest and ass ripple with each motion. Continuing to grind into him, soft gasps and groans flew from Kings lips at each piston.

Finally growing tired of the languid pace, he circled his other hand against you and thrust his hips up in time with his desperate thrusts. Huffing and panting, his wings fluttered behind him as he began to desperately seek out his satisfaction by using your body. The sloppy claps echoed throughout the room each time he bucked his hips up into you, the tip of his cock grinding against your face before your ass would slap against his balls beneath him.

Each time your ass clapped against his balls, his pitch would get higher and more desperate. The chant of: “fuck, fuck, fuck,” spilt from his lips alongside your name as he continued to use your body to chase his own satisfaction. Deciding to add more to his pleasure, you parted your lips to kiss the swollen tip of his cock each time your face met with it. Rolling your tongue and mouthing at him, you could feel your desire pool in the pit of your belly and coil tighter.

Throwing his head back, his pace quickened. If your ankles were not locked together, you would've been all over the place with floppy legs at the amount of pleasure the pressure was sending you. Growing erratic, he gazed back down at you and snarled through dangerous eyes.

“You better cum, little one. Cum for me. Be a good little slut and cum on my cock like this,” he barked, thrusting his hips up to punctuate his order. You whimpered as your body felt ignited with pleasure, only needing one more thing to truly set your own hunger alight.

“Cum on me, King. I need you to cum on my face and use my body to meet your high. I promise I'll cum, please,” you begged him, causing his breath to hitch as he continued to rock your much smaller head against his sensitive tip and frenulum while your body ground itself against his veiny shaft.

“You want me to fucking cum? I'll cum for you, little slut. Tongue out, n-now,” he staggered, his orders shooting sparks of lighting down your body and weaving the coil tighter in your stomach. As you lulled your tongue out, his eyes rolled back and his cock twitched with desperation.

“F-Fuck, I'm gonna-!” was all the warning he gave you before ropes of his release flooded your face and dripped down your torso, adding that final wave of lust to shoot lighting into your body. As his cum struck your face, lighting shot through you as your vision snapped white.

“K-King!” you screamed, your pussy twitching as you gushed on his cock. The friction added to your ecstasy as his cum continued to pool from his tip and overwhelm you with his viscous lust.

“Nghh- cumming-, fuck, fuck, take it. Take my cum, little star. Take it,” he barked at you, his feral desire to mark you with his cum as you screamed and mewled on his cock in time with your release grew more and more. Calling your name and chasing his high, he both degraded you and praised you for being so good and listening. Your little whimpers and whines set him off more, the peak of his release overwhelming your senses as it dripped down his base.

As he looked down at your body covered in cum, his vision faded into dark whisps. The shadows from the room engulfed you within and he shot himself upright.

Finding himself alone in his room had him roar in rage. Peeling back the blankets, he noticed his cock was twitching as his waistband now stuck to his abdomen with the sticky coat of shame trickling down his abdomen. He was overwhelmed at the knowledge that he called your name in his sleep, his dream conjuring up your image to tempt him with…

…and the fact he liked it so much.

“Fuck,” he whispered, dragging his hand down and beginning to ride out the final waves of his dream by calling your name and grinding his cock into his palm. A pathetic final spurt released from his tip as his orgasm was already spilt within his pants. Groaning out a soft whine, he shamelessly used your name as he pictured those final moments of your body on his cock.

Eyes blissed out, arms and legs braced against him, tongue lulled and covered in his cum. He needed that. He needed you. He was going to have you.

Moans from King's bedroom had your hand slipping down the front of your pants, your index and middle finger dancing against your body as soon as you heard him call your name. You knew you shouldn't be doing this, but the echos of his gruff moans were too hard for you to ignore. As he reached his high and called your name, you clapped your other hand over your lips as your body was ushered into your own ecstasy. Rocking your hips and stifling your silent scream in your palm, you came hard on your hand.

Removing your fingers from your pussy, you wiped them on your thigh to rid them of slick before turning away and scurrying back down the hallway towards your own room with haste.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady

[thepenultimateword]

Short Prompt #131

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

The steady heartbeat lulled Protagonist into light slumber. They really shouldn’t be dozing. They had no idea where this enormous being was taking them, or what they wanted. But with the pocket buttoned shut, rocked in the dark folds of soft fabric, and the warmth of their kidnapper’s breast seeping through the threads and into their chilled bones, it was hard to do anything else. Especially when they were already so exhausted from fleeing a dozen other threats to their life.

They had come too far. Gotten too ambitious. The land of giants was walled off for a reason—for whatever good they thought those flimsy walls would do. Protagonist knew better now. They were simply soothing their own hopeless fears. None of them were really safe. If anything really wanted to pass over, they simply would.

Hopefully, the fact that they hadn’t meant something close to good will. In Protagonist’s current position, it was the only hope they could count on.

[monsterfuckabilitytournament]

submit more fuckable monsters here:

[shamrockqueen]

hii, thank you for the tag!

i'd like to ask about 27. Up the beanstalk the title intrigues me the most

💖

So fics inspired by fairytales always make pretty good AU’s, as well as ones with specific kinks.

So I chose a Dark Giant Bucky x Human Reader in a ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ AU. This would have a Noncon element and a major size kink with the reader only tall enough in comparison where her head meets his hips or his stomach.

A snippet from the rough draft

With this abnormally large cottage you see a wide garden that spreads wider than all the meager land your family owned. This garden was beautiful too as it was well maintained and filled to the brim with colorful and plump fruits and vegetables.

As you jogged towards a particularly tantalizing patch of palm sized strawberries, you’d missed how that giant door had begun creaking open.

[davinawritings]

Monster Boyfriend that insists on cockwarming you daily. He says he needs to keep your pussy nice and stretched to be able to take him.

“Come on baby, you know I need you on my cock at least once a day. It took me months of working your pretty pussy open just to be able to take all of me. You wouldn’t want all my hard work to go to waste would you?”

It doesn’t even matter what you’re doing, he wants his cock inside you. You can’t deny him anyway when the stretch of his cock always feels so damn good 🤤🤤🤤

[fiber-optic-alligator]

I would LOVE to see a TFA!Megatron x human reader of some kind. I love him so much, such an intimidating and scary but fun version of him 🤭 I want it to be in the First Contact AU still, but why not sorta spice things up and make it have soulmates in it? Wouldn't it be cool to have a giant alien warlord from space destroying cities to find their soulmate? 😳🫣 lol if this idea sucks de bout it, but I'm excited to see your works that's transformers g/t related!

- ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST CHAMELANON! PLEASE ENJOY!!! God I love TFA Megs so much. He's so hot AUGH!

Be Careful What You Wish For

Pairing: TFA Megatron x Human Reader (Soulmate Au)

Word Count: 2961

Summary: Soulmates exist, and you have one. Proof exists in the form of soulmarks: a red thread-like tattoo imprinted on a person's arm. Only when one meets their soulmate and touches them will the soulmark disappear. Unfortunately, you have yet meet yours. After many lonely days wishing you would be reunited with your Other Half, a chaotic encounter with the leader of the Decepticons has you realizing one thing. And it is that soulmates persevere across time...and space.

Soulmates are real.

  Since you were a young child, this is what you have been told. Soulmates are real, and every person has one. The special red thread that connects two people twines between the left hand’s fingers, up the arm, snaking under the clavicle and ending directly over the heart. Bright like the blood running through your veins, it is your life force, your compass leading you to your Other Half, with your hand outstretched to touch theirs…and only then will the red thread disappear.

  You’ve spent hours staring at that red line, tracing the pattern it makes on your flesh. It’s been a constant presence throughout your life…and it has never gone away. No matter who you’ve met, who you have fallen in love with, who you have fallen out of love with, it is all the same. The thread remains, and you continue to carry a lonely heart within you.

  “Give it time,” your loved ones tell you. “You’ll find them. It won’t happen in a heartbeat. You need to be patient.”

  Yes, you know. Patience, after all, is a virtue. Plenty go about their lives and never even see their thread go away. An existence without your soulmate can be a perfectly happy one. But you want to know who your Other Half is. You want to be one of the lucky few who can be counted as soulfully complete.

  Sitting in a coffee shop with a hot chocolate cupped between your hands, you find yourself once again observing your thread. The morning is cold; you can feel the wind trying to bite you through the shop’s large glass window. People bundled in their coats, scarves, and gloves hurry by, heads down and minds focused on whatever tasks they have at hand. Looking out, you observe them with a blank stare, not really observing them at all.

  “Anything I can get you right now?” The older woman who owns the shop comes up to you, offering a plate of freshly baked cookies. “Chocolate chip? They’re right out of the oven!”

  You offer her a thin smile and shake your head no. She understands; she’s seen you forlornly watching couples pass by. Sighing, she sets down the plate. “You know,” she says. “I didn’t meet my soulmate until I was in my early 40’s.”

  You raise an eyebrow. She sees your surprise and chuckles. “I know, right? A little late to be meeting my Other Half. But hey, it happened. And now look at me! I’m living a good life, running a successful business, and I got to see my thread go away. Those are all things I never thought I’d get to experience. All I had to do was wait a little!”

  You cringe. Yes, waiting. It seems all you’ve been doing is waiting, waiting, waiting, all for a soulmate who might never come. You and your damn waiting.

  She notices your mood go sour and sighs again. “Listen, all I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t lose hope. You’ll meet your soulmate. I know you’ve probably heard this before, but…you need to give the world time to sort things into order. That’s all you really can do when you're dealing with the threads of fate.”

  You mumble a quiet “Thank you” and try to look appreciative, when you feel anything such. She says no more, but leaves you a cookie before heading off to tend to the other customers. You watch her go, then lift up your left hand. Your thread is vibrantly bright, showing no signs of fading any time soon.

  Yeah, you think sadly while you bite into the cookie. No hope lost whatsoever.

  You are walking out of the shop when it happens. The door’s little chimes clink together as you swing it open and bid the owner farewell. And then, a pain unlike any other hits you with the force of a freight train. It tackles you and makes you stagger, knees buckling and bringing you to the ground in a matter of seconds. Your heart starts slamming against your ribcage so hard you think a bone might crack. Pushing your hand against your chest, you pant and watch your vision swim as you attempt to get to your feet, yet fail and fall down once more.

  Multiple people help you up, each one asking if you are alright. You hold out a shaking hand as if to assure them, but no sound comes out of your mouth when you try to speak.

  Someone says, “Call an ambulance!” You want to tell them you are fine; unfortunately, you can’t seem to form any coherent words. All that rises up from your throat is a thin, wispy whimper.

  The chaos continues when out of nowhere, an explosion erupts further down the street. People scream and scramble back. The people holding you let go, and you nearly topple right over again. Shouts of panic and confusion fill the air, confirming that no one has a clue as to what is going on.

  Two dark shapes scream through the sky. You look up just in time to see a fighter jet fly past with a bomber plane following behind. For a moment, you think this is some sort of military aerial show-why such a thing would be happening in the middle of winter, you don’t know-but it’s the only conclusive argument you can decide on what you are seeing.

  But then the two planes start descending. They roar over the crowded street, then begin morphing and shaping themselves into creatures completely different from the disguises they previously sported. You recognize them: they are Cybertronians. Robots from outer space who have become borderline celebrities in Detroit since arriving here months earlier. These two, however, aren’t members of the heroic Autobots who help protect the city. They are Decepticons. The villains, the destroyers. The bad ones.

  The smaller of the two stretches his arms over his head. He laughs maniacally as he watches people run. “Look at them, Lugnut! They’re scurrying away like little ants!”

  The other Deception growls and pays no mind to his partner. “Silence, Blitzwing. Lord Megatron has a mission for us to complete. We must distract the humans while he finds the one he is looking for.”

  Blitzwing’s face swivels and changes into an icy blue expression. He surveys the humans around him with an air of disgust. “I don’t understand why Lord Megatron cares to capture one of these creatures. They are far too weak to be kept as pets.”

  “It is not my place to question him, nor is it yours. We are here to do as we are told and give our lord the time he needs to complete his mission.” Lugnut grabs a car and throws it into the air. It crashes down with a heavy slam, windows shattering, metal crumpling, alarm screeching out the vehicle’s pain. You watch in horror, unable to fathom that you have a front row seat to this show of destruction Detroit is about to face.

  Yeah, no, you think. I’m not sticking around. These Decepticons obviously have no regard for human lives. If you remain here, there is a high chance you will end up dead. You need to run, now.

  “You're not going anywhere, little one.”

  The voice is deep, and it pulses through your mind like a gong. You clutch your head and bite back a shout of pain. A strange feeling builds up in your chest. It makes your heart beat faster, and your thread begins to burn with an uncomfortable warmth you have never felt before.

  A third vehicle appears from the sky: a strange helicopter with two blades and a massive cannon mounted beneath its cockpit. Your hair whips back when it lands. The Cybertronian’s body condenses and rises, metal folding over metal, creating a gigantic figure with narrowed red eyes that immediately land on you the moment they open. Your jaw drops; this is easily the biggest mech you have ever seen. And you recognize him. Megatron, the feared leader of the Decepticon forces, and the worst bot you could run into right now.

    Lugnut drops to his knees and bows. “I serve you, Lord Megatron!”

  Megatron does not acknowledge him. He remains focused on you. You are finding it hard to breathe.

  Blitzwing walks over to the taller mech. “My lord, the Autobots will be arriving soon. What should we do?”

  “Continue destroying what you can.” Megatron’s voice is a deep rumble of thunder. You feel the wind get knocked out of you when you hear it. His voice. His voice. Why are you so focused on his voice?

  Your thread is beginning to burn. You slap your hand over your left arm and squeeze, hissing through your teeth. Megatron notices; he looks intrigued.

  “Have you found what you are looking for, master?” Lugnut asks.

  “Indeed I have,” Megatron replies. “And I don’t intend to let it escape me. Resume your orders. Keep the Autobots back for as long as you can. Once I have what we came here for, I will sound the retreat.”

  Blitzwing and Lugnut do not question him any further. You, on the other hand, are questioning everything. Why is this robot having such an effect on you? Why can you hear his voice in your head? And why, why is your soulmark on fire?!

  He’s here for me. There’s no solid confirmation that has been given to you about this, but you know deep down it is true.

  He’s looking right at me.

  Shit. Fuck.

  Your legs want to move. But your brain forbids it and forces you to remain put, even as other people go running by you, their screams mingling as one high-pitched wail while Blitzwing and Lugnut destroy anything they can get their hands on.

  Megatron remains still. He tilts his head with the air of a curious predator who is searching out the weak spots of his prey. You cannot drop eye contact with him. Something about his piercing gaze has you rooted to the spot in which you stand.

  Only when he begins lumbering towards you do you snap out of it and run with the rest.

  Everything is a blur for you. You nearly get shoved to the ground multiple times by the panicked masses who are fleeing. It feels like Detroit is crashing down. Police drones are flying in to fight back against the Decepticons, but you don’t think for a second they’ll do any damage against them. After all, they hardly ever do.

  “Don’t run from me, little one.”

  There is pain. So much pain. It is too much for you to handle. It causes you to collapse, clutching your head and writhing in agony.

  “You are so much more fascinating than the rest of your pathetic kind.”

  The ground trembles. Each step signals the robot drawing closer and closer.

  “Why can I feel what you feel? Why does my spark tremble with your fear? I don’t understand it. I need to understand it. So stop running, and come here.”

  You need to keep going. Grunting, you struggle to your feet and stumble forward in a haphazard fashion. You don’t even bother looking back to see if the robot is close. You just need to run. You need to hide.

  Your miracle appears in the form of a parking garage. Squirming under the partially closed grated gate, you find that it is abandoned; no one is in here with you, and the cars are all empty, abandoned by their owners. You retreat into a corner dark and covered with shadows. It should provide you with the necessary cover you need in order to hide.

  You remain in there for what feels like hours.  It goes awfully quiet outside. Any remaining civilians are long gone. Somewhere close, you think you hear the sound of mechs duking it out. Your breathing echoes off of the parking garage’s walls, giving you a further sensation of complete unease. Perhaps hiding in here wasn’t the best choice. Maybe you should have continued running with other people to a safer spot. Allowing others to be in your presence would endanger them…but now you are alone, completely defenseless to those who wish you harm. The robot who is currently stalking you can kill you without even thinking about it. By hoping to protect the city, you may have ensured your own doom.

  You hear stomping outside. Too loud to be human, too heavy to be an Autobot. Your heart tugs eagerly on its strings in an attempt to break free. It’s a mutual sensation of utter fear and strange wanting.

  “Where are you?”

  You see the massive head of the mech appear right underneath the gate. A shriek nearly escapes you, and you have to slap your hands over your mouth to quell it. A single roving red eye searches the garage, unblinking.

  “I am not known for my patience, human. If you do not show yourself, I cannot guarantee things will end up well for you.”

  The eye settles on you. It narrows and a low growl emits from the robot’s intake. “There you are.”

  You have no chance to react before Megatron’s hand smashes through the gate. You scream when his fingers curl around you. Tightly pressed against his palm, you struggle and kick your feet while Megatron slowly draws you out into the open.

  “Let me go!” you shriek. “Stop! Please!”

  Megatron growls again and gives you a warning squeeze. “Fighting me will get you nowhere. Cease this at once, or suffer the consequences.”

  Well, that’s threatening. You immediately go limp and snap your mouth shut. Megatron snorts, satisfied. He brings you closer to his face, studying you. You shrink back, flush with panic and terror.

  “What is your name, human?” he rumbles.

  You stutter out a barely coherent reply. “Y-Y-Y/N.”

  “Y/N.” He repeats it to himself. “Y/N…a fitting name. Tell me, have we ever met before?”

  “I…I d-don’t believe so?” you say.

  “Hm.” He regards you, turning his hand left and right so he can examine you from all angles. “How very interesting.”

  “W-What’s interesting?”

  “Your mark.” He pushes his thumb under your left forearm. “It’s gone.”

  You follow his gaze. Indeed, where your thread should have been-the thread that has been with you for your entire life, a presence in which you believed would never leave you-there is only bare skin. There isn’t a speck of red to be seen. The burning that accompanied it before is gone too, and now there is a sort of settlement weighing on your chest. It is an instinctive rush of fulfillment, like this was meant to happen.

  You feel faint. Nothing makes sense anymore when you look back at the robot. “You…You're my soulmate?” you squeak.

  “Soulmate.” Megatron stretches the word out into a slow drawl. “So that’s what your species calls it. Yes, you can say that. My kind has a similar phenomenon that affects us.” He opens his mouth and breathes in deeply. “You smell of fear. I can see in your eyes that you know me. So this city is aware of who I am, hm?”

  You don’t dare answer. You're way too terrified of how close his massive teeth are to you. You don’t want to think about what might happen if you find yourself between them.

  “There is no need to be afraid of me. Our sparks are linked. I would be killing a piece of myself if I were to eliminate you.” He sighs. “As disappointed as I am to discover that my sparkmate is a human, I can learn to work with it. I wish to know more about you, Y/N. I will know why fate tied us.”

  “I need to know more.”

  “What makes you so different?”

  “Foolish little thing, you cannot get away from me.”

  “I will get to the bottom of this.”

  His thoughts are loud and overwhelming. You shake your head and feel tears gather in your eyes. “Please…It’s too much. Your thoughts-”

  “Ah. Is that primitive brain of your overloading? I can hear it. Don’t think your thoughts aren’t in my head as well.” He rises to his full height. “I am sure we will both learn to get used to it. If not, I will have Shockwave create something that will bar my thoughts from entering your mind.”

  “Wait! Wait!” You look down. The ground is far away from you. Everything sways queasily when Megatron begins to walk. “No! Put me down!”

  “If you vomit on me, I will not hesitate to drop you,” the Decepticon says gratingly.

  “Y-You can’t take me with you!” you yell at him. “I can’t be your soulmate! There has to be a mistake!”

  “The spark doesn’t lie. Your mark is gone, and I can feel the completion you bring me. There is no question that you are my Other Half. What I want to know is why.” He shakes his head angrily. “It is a burden to have such a weak creature by my side. But I will learn to understand. Perhaps you can show me the few strengths humans possess. Do you think you can convince me to spare your race, little one?”

  He’s taking you. He’s not letting you go. You feel faint with horror at the realization that you aren’t getting out of this. Whether you believe it or not, this alien robot is your soulmate.

  You’ve gotten exactly what you wanted. But this isn’t how you thought meeting your Other Half would go.

  You hear one last thought from Megatron echo ominously in your mind. It sends shivers down your spine. “You are mine now.”

  After that, you pass out.

[imagine-darksiders]

Transformers Prime: Optimus X Reader. Chapter 2.

The Letdown.

Part 1

Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family, Optimus is a big, overprotective worry-wort with a soft spot for humans, Reader has more issues than Vogue.

Let me know if you'd be interested in a part 3 :]

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

Optimus has always been an honest mech. Even before he was bestowed with the Matrix of Leadership, Orion-wet-behind-the-audials-Pax was about as good at carrying a lie as Miko is at keeping herself out of trouble.

Not much changed after Orion became a Prime.

Deception never came easily to him. Frank and truthful in all he does, there are times when even the principled leader of the Autobots has to concede that sometimes, deceit is a regrettable, but unavoidable necessity.

That doesn’t mean he’s grown better at it though.

Lying, in any capacity, makes the stoic and unflinching mech feel as if his glossa has been dipped in a coat of lead. To his own audial receptors, the insubstantial white-lie he’d coaxed you with sounded clumsy, even stilted – just two more things unbefitting of a Prime.

The Matrix had bucked inside his chassis when he fabricated the story that convinced you to accept his assistance. It had, however, quickly settled down after Optimus reminded himself that this was a lie borne from the best of intentions.

He may be the most fastidious in following his own self-set rule to remain incognito on Earth, but even a stickler like him could hardly ignore a human in need.

And you were in need, he reflects as he tentatively adjusts his rear-view mirror, angling it towards your face as surreptitiously as he can.

The memory of your desolate, beaten expression is bruised right into the forefront of his processor, where it’s sure to remain for some time to come. Bathed in the dim glow of his headlights, you’d stared up at his grill with the same frightened trepidity of a doe peering down the barrel of a hunter’s gun. You’d approached his open door with such caution, your tiny yet vital pulse rabbiting inside the veins and vessels that pump precious blood through your fragile, little body.

You were afraid of him, and it would be remiss of the great Prime to deny that the realisation had plucked at a tender node running through his spark-chamber.

It felt like a rejection.

‘Really, Optimus?’ He can almost hear Arcee’s cool, bemused ribbing now. ‘One human doesn’t like you, and suddenly your self-esteem takes a hit?’

She’d be right to tease him, of course. A Prime ought to be above such concerns.

Yet still…

A human had needed help, and Optimus’s very presence – once described as a comfort by Jack when the boy thought he couldn’t hear – was enough to almost instil a fear in you so profound, you’d have sooner braved the cold emptiness of a desert and your own exhaustion than accept his aid.

Optimus eases his engine to a constant, steady hum as he drives down Highway 49, his weary passenger secured inside his alt mode. Distantly, he notes how some of his custodial protocols have settled back to lay dormant amongst his codes once again, the same protocols that rear their heads like spitting cobras whenever he sees one of the children in danger.

But for now, there is no danger, and so, contented, the Prime allows himself to cruise at a lax pace towards the distant, twinkling lights appearing on the dark horizon.

Jasper.

You mentioned that your journey ends at the dairy pastures out towards the East of town, where well-watered fields of grass are nestled beneath the shadows cast by enormous, twisting rock spires.

But why are you heading there in the first place?

The silence inside his cab starts to grow stifling. And although the quiet doesn’t bother him in the least, Optimus is conscious of your bouncing leg, and the small, quivering fingers kneading anxiously around the straps of the bag you’ve yet to remove.

It doesn’t look heavy… The note you left on the window of your truck claimed that the vehicle is all you have, and he has no doubt that what little else you might call yours is tucked safely within the leather rucksack that’s currently pinned between your spine and Optimus’s seat.

It may not look heavy, but neither does it look particularly comfortable.

Beneath the shell of armour and metal parts concealing his face, Optimus feels his brow plates twitch in their attempt to furrow gently towards one another.

“Perhaps you’d-“ he starts, only to hurriedly cut the feedback to his voice box when you promptly go rigid against his seat, your drooping, crimson-tinted eyes flying open to roll around his cabin like a spooked equine mammal. “My apologies,” he amends contritely, letting his voice drop to such an unobtrusive pitch, it almost mingles with the purr of his engine, “I only meant to tell you, there is ample room in the footwell for your belongings…”

Leaving an indicative silence in his wake, Optimus regards you curiously as you tighten your grip on the tattered, leather straps slung over your shoulders, though your gaze does flick down to survey the space around your shoes.

You may have traded your name for his, but it’s clear you’re still wound up tighter than a coiled spring.

“Oh,” you eventually murmur, and he’s pleased to see your white-knuckle grasp go slack.

As you begin to slowly slide the bag from your shoulders, every movement stiff and uncertain, Optimus nonetheless lets out an approving hum and returns his senses to the road ahead, though his focus remains almost entirely on the soft speck of warmth shifting around in his passenger seat.

Not for the first time, Optimus is struck by how much larger cybertronians are than humans. Even when you lean forwards and lower your rucksack down towards his footwell, his sensors barely register your presence.

At least your weight is more substantial than Rafael’s, he muses.

Once, during a rare but pleasant occurrence in which he was the only bot available to shuttle their tiniest member from school to the Base, Optimus had tried – and failed – to refrain from checking that the boy was still safely strapped in his passenger seat every ten nanoclicks.

Giving his engine a rev to shake himself from the memory, Optimus speaks again, mindful to keep his volume low this time. “May I ask you something, Y/n?”

He watches as you finally relinquish your hold on the bag, letting it drop with the utmost care into the space by your feet. “Of course,” you say genially, turning less and less guarded as the warmth of his cab envelopes you, beckoning you towards a much-needed rest.

“What brings you to Jasper?”

Small talk is hardly Optimus’s forte, but the nature of your unfortunate circumstances had shifted something deep within his spark and left it murmuring unhappily behind his colossal chassis.

Oblivious to the Prime’s concern, you cast another doleful glance towards the driver’s side, leaning back until your shoulders just barely ghost the fabric of your seat. “Only business, I’m afraid,” you offer, vaguely, “Nothing exciting. What about you? Are you based out here?”

“I am,” your mysterious driver responds just as concisely before he swings the topic back around to you, much to your dismay, “But this… Terry-“ He says the name as if it’s entirely foreign to him, like a word in another language that he isn’t sure how to pronounce. “-Is he a friend of yours?”

Puffing out your cheeks, you raise a hand, pivoting it lazily from side to side. “Not exactly…” you eke out. After a moment mulling it over further, you let your hand flop down into your lap again with a sigh. “Actually, no, not at all. He’s barely an acquaintance. I’ve only spoken to him once over the phone when he called to offer me a job.”

Optimus is too slow to mute the heavy hum that rolls through him, reverberating across his cabin and up through your seat.

You must pick up on his apprehension because you quirk one corner of your lips and exhale through a humourless chuckle. “I know… Ironic, isn’t it? I didn’t want to hop in a stranger’s truck, but I’ll travel all the way to Nevada to work for a guy I’ve spoken to once.”

Inwardly, Optimus fights back a frown. Soon enough, his cab is once again filled by his rich, mellow tone, just a few iotas shy of admonishing. “I assume you must have had a good reason for coming here.”

At that, you bark out a slightly louder harrumph. “I have a reason,” you admit before dropping your voice and tugging your brows together until they pucker at the middle of your forehead, gazing solemnly out through the windscreen, “Still haven’t figured out if it’s a good one or not…”

Frowning at the distant lights of Jasper, you miss the way the semi’s rearview mirror twitches microscopically to bring you into centre-frame.

The Prime casts his hidden optics discreetly over your strained expression.

Jaw cinched tight… Hands curled rigidly over your knees. Your whole frame is hunched in on itself, shoulders lifting towards your ears as if you mean to hide between them…

He doesn’t need to scan your vitals to know that your amygdala has just kicked itself up a gear.

You’re scared. And this time, something tells him that he isn’t the cause.

“Perhaps,” he starts slowly, waiting for you to unclench your jaw in response to his voice, “I could offer a third-party perspective.”

Snorting quietly, you reply, “To help me work out if I’m doing the wrong thing?”

“It may ease your troubles to share them,” he offers considerately, having to override the urge to send a soothing stroke through your EM field – or lack thereof.

Sometimes, Optimus finds himself stumped for how to connect with humans on the same level as he can Cybertronians. It’s through no fault of their own, nor his. It simply comes down to a difference in biology.

With the latter, he can so clearly convey a feeling or notion through the electrical impulses cast out by his matrix, and the spark housing it.

Oftentimes, he’ll have to brush his field against Ratchet’s when the agitated medic starts kicking out frustration and, so often, despair. He more frequently does the same to Bumblebee if ever the youngling grows despondent from Rafael’s absence. Arcee’s bouts of fury at the Decpticons, and Bulkhead’s ferocious protectiveness over Miko… Prime has felt it all, brought them into his field, and countered with a presence intended to calm and reassure without having to offer a single word.

But humans… They’re more difficult to soothe.

He has to go by tone and expression alone. The children are easier to read, but adults are a different story; masters at hiding their truest and most vulnerable thoughts behind facades they’ve had years to perfect.

How often has he caught himself trying to wrap Jack, Miko and Raf up inside his solicitous EM field before he remembers they’re human children, not sparklings? They can’t feel his energies like a Cybertronian would.

But regardless, he hopes they know that despite maintaining a poised and collected exterior, Optimus has a spark that’s familiarised itself well with their own, precious heartbeats.

He’s pulled from his musings by your soft, sardonic laugh. “What’re you gonna charge me the going rate of a therapist?” you joke, giving the empty driver’s seat a wry smile.

“I would never dream of charging you for anything,” he insists at once, so sincere that you think he either missed the joke entirely or he’s trying to bulldoze through your defences simply by being nice.

“Good,” you hum, “Because I couldn’t afford a minute of time with a therapist, let alone a whole session. Spent the last of what I had on fuel just to get here.”

“If you require financial aid,” Optimus tells you resolutely, “I would be happy to provide it.”

There are responses you’d expect to hear, and then there are those that make you choke on your own spit.

Lurching upright in your seat, your brows shoot up towards your hairline and you whip your torso around to gawk at the invisible driver. “What!?” you all but blurt, throwing an arm out to steady yourself against the dashboard. “What the- What!?”

The vehicle around you seems to churr apologetically.

“Ah… forgive me,” Optimus hedges, sounding uncharacteristically contrite, “Have I offended you?”

Blinking in rapid succession, you flap your mouth open and closed wordlessly for a few seconds, reeling your heat back up from the bottom of your shoes. “Wh-I… No,” you stammer at last, shaking your head, “No, no. I’m not offended, I’m just..”

Cutting yourself off to huff out an incredulous laugh, you press a few fingers to your temple, rubbing at it tenderly. “Christ, you’re a hoot, Optimus.”

A quick search on the internet only serves to baffle Optimus further. And as he attempts to make the connection between himself and a nocturnal bird of prey, you drag a hand down your face and let out another disbelieving little chuckle.

“Scooping me up in the dead of night, and now you’re offering me money… People will talk.”

Flicking the information on Strigiformes from his HUD, Optimus politely returns his attention to you and asks, “Is it unusual to offer money to those in need?”

“Not if that they’re a charity,” you clarify, the smile on your face turning limp as you shoot his seat a glare that lacks any kind of heat, “I’m not a charity, Optimus. I’m just an idiot who can’t keep a job.”

The truck’s engine suddenly kicks out a guttural growl just as it’s driver firmly states, “You are far from an idiot, Y/n. And… my offer still stands.”

“An offer I’m afraid I’ll have to respectfully decline,” you counter, though the frown on your face is slowly being replaced by a tentative smile, “Look, I appreciate the offer. I do. But you’re already going above and beyond to help someone you don’t know. If you keep being so nice to me, I’ll start thinking you came from the sky!”

All of a sudden, the semi’s brakes dip, only a little, barely enough to jostle you from your seat, but enough that you hastily glance out the windscreen to see if he had to slow for an obstruction in the road.

In the background, Optimus’s speakers give a burst of static before he forces out, “I don’t… The sky?”

“Yeah,” you answer blithely, “You know, like an angel.”

A hush falls over the cab as Optimus processes your words. After a time, the only think of any substance he can come up with is a soft, considering, “Oh…”

The same quiet settles itself over your shoulders, weighing them down, and you start to wonder if you’ve inadvertently insulted your mysterious driver by rejecting his offer too harshly. Before you can open your mouth to try and salvage your standing with him however, he clears his throat and utters, “You flatter me.”

“Do I?” you ask, sinking back into the seat and turning to peer out of the window, glad he doesn’t sound affronted, “Sorry if I seem out of practice, you’re the first person I’ve spoken to in… in a while.”

Optimus goes silent again, leaving you to listen to the rumble of his semi’s tyres travelling over the tarmac for several, lonely moments until he speaks again.

“You’re lonely,” he deduces, so gently and so condolingly that something in your chest gives a squeeze. Then, once again, just as you take a breath to protest his assumption, he asks, “Y/n? Why did you leave your home to come here?”

“… Ah…” Sucking a breath through your teeth, you sit up, lifting your back off the comfortable seat, much to Optimus’s private dismay, “Well, that’s… that’s a long and boring story,” you try to laugh.

As if in response, the truck slows down a few notches until the needle hovers over the forty mark. “I’ll wager it isn’t boring at all,” he prompts, “And I’m not going anywhere.”

The tension in your brows starts to cause an ache, and you stuff your teeth into your bottom lip to distract yourself. “It really is a classic,” you chuckle, wholly intent on brushing his concern aside, “You’ve probably heard it a hundred times before. Straight from the runaway’s handbook.”

Softly, the strange but kind man chides you. “Y/n…”

A lump starts to form in your throat but you force another laugh through it, pulling your chin from your knuckles to aim a look over your shoulder, hoping that his cameras don’t pick up your quivering lip. “Wait… Are you actually a therapist?” you joke, “Is that your day job?”

“Please?”

With a single word, your mouth snaps shut.

Swallowing, you try to bristle defensively, wishing you weren’t so hatefully tired and vulnerable that a simple ‘please’ could knock down a wall of indifference. “Come on, Optimus,” you scoff weakly, “I’m not about to offload my baggage onto a stranger. And we both know you’re not really interested.”

Unheard by you, a strong puff of hot air blasts from the semi’s smokestacks.

“I am loathe to contradict you, youngling,” he retorts, briefly throwing you off with the unusual word, “But I am interested. If you are in some sort of trouble-?“

At once, your spine turns stiff and you cut him off with a scowl, snapping waspishly, “-Who says I’m in trouble?”

Somehow, when he falls silent this time, he manages to exude an air of mild objurgation, and you can’t help but feel like a teenager again, slinking home well after midnight to find your parents still up and waiting for your return.

The comparison humbles you, takes some of the wind out of your ruffled sails.

Optimus’s pointed silence sinks over the cab like a thick, cumbersome blanket, too itchy. You want to throw it off.

Sullen, you swivel yourself back to face the window and lean your forehead against the cool glass, frowning out at the silver-soaked desert drifting by. Your mysterious stranger’s semi drives so smoothly, you can’t even feel the bumps.

But you can feel Optimus’s eyes upon you… somehow, as though he’s just waiting for you to make the next move.

Shifting in your seat, you stubbornly ignore the awkward silence, but it isn’t long before that awkwardness evolves into a kernel of guilt that embeds itself under your ribcage.

Here’s a man who so far, has been nothing but cordial and helpful to you. Hell, even downright generous. All he’s asked of you in return is to hear your reason for being here.

And what did you do?

You threw his – likely genuine – interest back in his proverbial face.

But to tell him…-

‘-Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,’ you scold yourself, ‘You’re not that exciting. You could have been through far worse, after all.’

Resisting the impulse to groan aloud, you knock your forehead gently against the window, considering.

For his part, Optimus doesn’t press you, he doesn’t clear his throat or try to change the subject, he just… waits.

And finally, alongside a great heave of your chest and a woebegone sigh, his patience is rewarded.

“You ever feel… like…” Squinting, you work the sentence over in your mouth before pushing it past reluctant teeth, “Like you’re not living up to everyone’s expectations?”

If you had any idea who you’d just asked that question of, you might have realised what the sudden lurch of his engine means.

Chalking it up to the truck changing gears, you peel yourself away from the window and stare down at your lap, fingers absently fiddling with one another. “It’s like… Okay, so, you know how people around you always say, ‘just try your best, that’s all you can do?”

When it becomes clear that you’re actually poised, expecting an answer, Optimus ventures a careful, “I have heard that many a time, yes.”

“And you want to try your best for them, right? You want to be a better person?”

“Of course,” he says far more easily, only to hesitate when you go still and your face crumples.

“But… you don’t want it badly enough...” you eke out slowly.

“…I’m sorry?”

“You don’t want it badly enough to actually put any effort into being that person, you know?”

This time, Optimus doesn’t offer a response.

You almost want to smile. Of course he doesn’t know. Look at him. Picking up a random stranger in the night to drive you where you need to go, offering a sympathetic ear to listen to your troubles, offering money when you tell him you lost your job… If he put effort into being better, they’d have to make him a Saint.

“I wasn’t… giving my best,” you finally sigh at the centre console, “At my job, at home… I knew I wasn’t giving my best, and I didn’t try to. I had everyone fooled into thinking that what I was giving them was all I had…. But it wasn’t…”

Suddenly, your eyes blur over with stinging, salty tears, and you duck your head at once, frowning angrily at yourself, “Not even close.”

Optimus murmurs your name, but you can’t bear to let him try and say anything kind to you now, not when you’ve just plucked at such a tender wound, and kindness would only rip the scab off sooner than you’re ready to let it bleed.

“I was, um… I was late to work one morning at my old job,” you clear your throat, sweeping a finger roughly under your eyelid, “Overslept. That was grounds for firing me. Lost my apartment because I couldn’t make the rent anymore… When I eventually bit the bullet and went home to tell dad, he…”

Your voice fades out, clogged by the memory of that day so many weeks ago, another in a long line of disappointments you’d walked over your parents’ welcome mat.

But Optimus is still waiting, still reserving his judgement until you finish, so you take a breath, remind yourself that all of this is nobody’s fault but your own, and continue. “I think… it was slowly killing my father to see his kid wasting a perfectly good life instead of being the person he thought I’d become.”

You try so hard to remain aloof, but the late hour, the solitary journey, this stranger’s amicable nature… Something akin to a shard of glass wedges its point under the soft tissue of your heart.

And jabs.

Suppressing a wince, you plaster nonchalance into a shrug and sniff, “So, I figured if he couldn’t see me, like at all, he might… be happier.” It’s hard to admit, just as it was when you made the decision to leave your house that night and set out to find your own way in the great, wide world.

Finally, just as the semi drives past a large, green sign that reads ‘Jasper city limits,’ Optimus’s voice rumbles through the speakers.

“You left your home,” he begins slowly, “Because you thought you might disappoint your father?”

Close.

You left because you knew you already had.

Not just him either.

Partnerless, childless, you’ve been drifting through life by yourself on the path of least resistance, and every year, you grow older, and you watched your mother and father grow older too.

Leaning your head back against the seat, you nearly let your eyes slip shut before remembering you’re supposed to be staying awake, pinning them open to peer up at the blue light reflected off a dark ceiling.

“… Does he at least know where you are?”

You smile sadly, rolling your neck around to your other shoulder and giving the empty driver’s seat a heavy-lidded blink. “He knows I’ll be okay.”

Just then, the seatbelt seems to grow ever so slightly tauter around you, just enough that you can feel it press against your abdomen, but so briefly that you can’t be sure it isn’t your chest hitching.

“He must be worried about you,” Optimus prompts.

Shrugging, you turn back to face the window. “Like I said, he knows I’ll bounce back. I… usually do. I mean I have done so far.”

Another disquieted hum trickles out of the speakers.

“That’s why I had to get to the dairy tonight,” you sniffle, blinking hard as the truck passes beneath the first street-light, bringing you safely within the city outskirts, “I have to make sure Terry thinks I’m worth keeping on as a farm-hand. If I’m late on my first day and he decides I’m not worth it…”  Your hands ball into clenched fists in your lap and you grit your teeth, determined not to let your misty eyes spill all over Optimus’s seats.

“I need this job,” you croak, more to yourself now than your invisible listener, “Not sure how many bounces I’ve got left in me.”

This time, you’re certain the seatbelt tightens. You even spare it a glance when it doesn’t slacken again, and you force your fists apart to slide your fingers beneath the fabric, gently working it loose.

Optimus is barely aware of your touch. “You should try to contact your father,” he says at last, “I’m certain that if he hears of your circumstances, and learns why you left and where you are, he’ll be able to help you.”

He watches you blink, frowning suddenly and sitting up to give his side of the cab a baffled look. Slowly, your expression opens up as a realisation dawns on you, one not yet privy to the mech.

“Oh,” you say, mildly surprised, “You think it was only my decision to leave.”

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Optimus doesn’t know which is worse.

That you could feel like such a burden to your family, you thought leaving would make them happy.

Or the fact that your family had done nothing to stop you from walking out the door.

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

There aren’t a great many things that a Prime is permitted to regret.

That does not, however, make them incapable of regret. Only the admission of it.

By the time Optimus’s gargantuan tyres turn onto the long, sandy driveway of Terry’s Dairy, he realises he’s added one more contrition to his ever-growing list. He’s gone behind your back, turned a blind optic to your wishes and invaded your privacy in a way that made the matrix in his chassis squirm and howl.

But it’s all he could think to do for you at short notice, he laments, short of carting you back to the silo and ensuring you get some proper rest. Ratchet would probably take one look at your vitals and order a week of inactivity. Then he’d likely tear Optimus a new finial for bringing yet another human into their fold.

It would be counterproductive, he supposes. After all, the Decepticons aren’t aware of your existence, and affiliating yourself with the Autobots will only paint a target on your back.

No, leaving you here is for the best, he reasons, though he resolves to avoid going behind your back again in the future.

He also resolves to make the drive up to the pastures part of his weekly patrol… Not for any particular reason – it’s possible the Decepticons also prowl along these old roads… And if, on his way by, he happens to cast a glance over and see you, well… All the better.

“Are you certain you’ll be alright?” he asks for the umpteenth time as he trundles to a stop in front of a modest, wooden farmhouse, his headlights bathing the little white porch in their dazzling glow.

Giving a jovial roll of your eyes, you haul your rucksack out of the footwell and reach down to press the seatbelt release, having to jab at it with your thumb a few times before it eventually relents and lets go of the metal buckle.

“Don’t you worry about me,” you tell him stoutly as you reach for the door handle. That too, you struggle to open, tugging at it with no success until the lock promptly goes ‘click’ and the door swings open of its own accord.

Clicking your tongue at the temperamental tech, you arduously slide yourself from the seat and swing the rucksack over a shoulder, climbing backwards down the steps. “You just worry about getting this truck in tip-top shape. Sounded like the engine had a mind of its own.”

Dropping the last foot to the ground, your knees threaten to buckle, but you manage to remain upright, stepping back to smile up into the cab before the door tugs itself shut.

Right on cue, the semi’s idling engine lets out a noisy rev, instantly drawing a laugh out of you.

“Ha!” you grin, “Yeah, just like-”

You’re promptly interrupted by an unexpected commotion from the house.

Whipping your head towards the porch, you let out a yelp as the screen door suddenly bursts open, and from the darkness comes barrelling a short, stocky man wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama shorts, a single shoe, and a ferocious snarl.

But most alarmingly of all, is the shiny, side-by-side shotgun held aloft in his arms, the stock braced against his shoulder and one, keen eye staring straight down the sights.

All the moisture in your mouth dries up when you realise those long, glinting barrels are aimed directly at you.

“What the-!?” is all you can bleat out.

Without a moment’s warning, the truck beside you roars to life and suddenly lurches forwards on its wheels, thrusting itself like a wall of metal into the space between you and the gun-toting farmer.

“Wh- Optimus!” you exclaim, trying to stand on your toes to fruitlessly see over the semi’s grill. “Terry!? Is that you!?”

“I told you sons of bitches,” the incensed man hollers, “F’I ever caught you tryn’a mess with my cows again, I’d-!”

“Terry!” Stepping sideways, you attempt to move around Optimus’s semi, only for the truck to roll forwards, keeping you hidden safely behind its bumper.

“Optimus, stop it,” you hiss, planting a palm on the warm, thundering hood and darting around the front of his truck, too quickly for him to move forwards again lest he squash you beneath his radiator.

Lifting your voice, you hurriedly call out, “Terry, i-it’s me! Y/n? We spoke on the phone! About the job!”

You’re met with a stunned silence as you manage to skirt around to the other side of the semi’s bumper, keeping your hand on the metal as if that alone could keep the ten-tonne machine at bay.

Finally, ‘Terry’ comes into view, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you meet his steely glare through the sights.

Then, just as swiftly, he blinks, and the gun drops almost at once, his face bursting open in surprise. “Y/n? That you, kid?” he calls.

The palpable relief almost brings you to your knees. Taking your hand off the truck’s grill, you step forwards, eyeing the gun warily as it dangles at the farmer’s side. “Yeah, it’s me… Sorry.”

“Goddammit, Kid! You about gave me a damn heart attack!”

“I gave you a heart attack!?” Expelling a shaky breath, you card your fingers through your messy hair and add, “Jesus, Terry. Was the gun really necessary?”  

There’s a line of sweat beading on the farmer’s wispy brow as he flicks his gaze between you and the revved-up truck lurking behind you. After a moment of squinting, he returns his eyes to you. “Can’t be too careful,” he grunts, “This old thing ain’t even loaded. Just use it to scare away some damn kids who’ve been comin’ round here and spookin’ up my herds.”

True to his word, Terry breaks the shotgun’s barrels, flipping the gun around in his hands to show you the empty chambers.

At that moment, as if he’d been waiting to determine that the danger had passed, Optimus puts his semi in reverse, rolling it backwards over the sand as you turn to watch him leave, absently raising a hand to wave farewell as he turns the truck around.

Just before he does, the semi’s headlights blink once, then twice, on and off, a farewell in his own right, before its wheels carry it around in the spacious yard and it begins to drive, leaving the way it had come, back up the lonely, sand-choked track.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Terry breathes, draping a wrist over his forehead and letting out an incredulous chuckle, “The Angel…” Tearing his eyes off the truck’s retreating taillights, he stares over at you, mouth crooked into a lopsided grin. “How the Hell’d you get a ride with the goddamn Angel?”

“I’m sorry,” you sputter, eyelashes flickering in disbelief, “Angel?”  

Terry’s expression morphs from giddy excitement to a wistful, faraway gaze. “The Angel of Highway Forty-Nine,” he says breathlessly, his eyes sharpening once again as he turns them back onto you, “He’s a legend. Just showed up one day in that big ol’ truck of his. Noone knows who he is or where he came from! A ghost, that’s what folks say, who drives his rig up and down the roads around Jasper. Never stoppin’ for gas. Never gettin’ to where he’s goin.”

Suddenly, his demeanour shifts again, and he closes the distance between you, lowering his voice conspiratorially and lifting his hand up to his mouth as if to shield the words from prying ears. Though the only ears you can see are those of the cows watching sleepily from their barn, no doubt awoken by the ruckus. “I know folks who swear, when they drive past him on the road, they look, but not one of ‘em has ever seen a person behind that windscreen!”

“Oh my,” you return, feigning intrigue with a tired expertise, “That’s spooky. But… maybe the glass is just tinted?”

Terry leans backwards out of your bubble, spreading his arms wide and pursing his lips. “Maybe,” he concedes, only to immediately drop his arms again, and you watch in mild concern as his face splits into a wide, borderline-manic grin, “Or maybe… He’s an alien, and that big rig there?” He points the barrel of his shotgun down the farm track at the spot where Optimus had disappeared. “That’s his craft.”

…. Ah.

Paying dutiful attention, you follow his line of sight, eyebrows high on your head and a carefully pensive gaze laid bare for Terry to see.

“His craft?” you echo, “You mean like a spaceship?”

The old farmer’s face lights up and his eyes zero in on you like a car salesman who’s just spotted a clueless customer stumbling into his showroom.

It took twenty minutes for Terry to show you to the little annex you’d be living in from now on. And only another five for you to thank him profusely for giving you this chance, bid him goodnight, shuck off your shoes and rucksack and finally, finally flop face-first onto the bed. A real bed. With pillows and sheets and a blanket. Not the bed of an old pickup truck and a coat tossed over your legs for warmth.

Rolling onto your back, you splay your arms out on either side of you, sending a tiny smile up at the ceiling.

“Alien… Ha,” you laugh softly. Terry’s a character. Decent enough, but the scent of stale beer and hops lingering on his breath when he leaned in close stole some of the credence from his theory.

Now, Angel… you can get behind. Optimus had shown up right when you needed him, after all, even if you couldn’t see it for yourself at the time.

Ah, but Optimus is the good sort. And good sorts tend to drift to where they’re needed, helping out wherever they can. You’re not the good sort. You just muddle on through and go wherever you can, helping out where your help is invited.

You resolve to bite the bullet and just check how much is in your current account. See if you’ve got enough in there to hire a tow, or a friendly farmer with a tractor and a rope…

The passcode screen flicks away, and you’re left blinking tiredly at the figure on top of the page.

You blink once.

Then again, harder.

Then you promptly drop the phone onto the bed with a soft ‘whump.’

Snatching it back up, you gape at the screen, drop it again, then throw your hands over your mouth in abject horror.

There must be some mistake. You’re dreaming, you fell asleep, and this is a dream, surely to god!?

A third check yields the same results, and once again, you toss the phone away from you to the foot of the bed, staring after it as if it might come alive at any moment.

No matter how hard you squeeze your fingernails into your scalp, you can’t wake up from whatever twisted fantasy you’ve stumbled into.

The numbers and words are burned into your retinas, flashing dimly every time you blink.

‘$10,000 has been added to your account.’

[mskenway97]

I had this in mind for some time and some ideas made me think about this story. It takes place during the course of the 'Alpha/Omega' episode of transformers prime after Optimus lost the Star Saber.

Tfp Optimus Prime x Fem!human!reader

I will stay

Words: 1,576

Summary: You haven't heard from your guardian for days, when you got the news from Jack that a new weapon had been discovered. You decided to stop by to see why he wasn't talking to you like before to discover a side of him you didn't know.

Warning: angst, sorrow, g/t content, g/t confort fluff

You knew something wasn't right, ever since he came back with his memory restored. Something was keeping you upset, you felt that he had put up a wall that you couldn't get through. That didn't happen before. You met him by chance bad timing, a detour home several Vehicons and a big robot of almost 30 ft. Since then he had taken care of you, as Ratchet refused to be the guardian, plus you were older than the children on the base to your surprise. You befriended them, but you were always intrigued by Prime, and little by little you were able to talk about various things. Seeing what caught his attention… Apart from the popular culture books of Earth and what I was dedicated to. Partly little by little you began to fall in love with this metallic giant, his kindness, his concern, his dedication to the Earth. To feel safe among his servos, or to sit on his shoulder while he worked, little details that mattered a lot to you. But at the same time they made you feel helpless, helping Miko and Raf was easy. Engaging Ratchet in conversation was a challenge. Understanding Bumblebee was a challenge. But you tried because you wanted to get to know them better. Everything started to change since Unicron showed up, the day Optimus left… Those were the worst days for you, you didn't know how much you needed him… the sound of his voice, the touch of his finger when he stroked your hair…

He came back to you but interactions started to be more limited, he would pick you up from work: Arcee or Bulkhead. Only Ratchet stayed at the base…. That made you feel partly miserable, you knew he had great work, great responsibility but at the same time you wanted to help him. That he just didn't show that stoic side to all the people. But you were only a small human, between a war of enormous titans. You could only stand by and watch, you wished you could do more, could help more. But you were just an ant in comparison…. You wished at least to see him smile, at least just once… If only you could comfort him, do something. You would do anything. This was eating you up more and more. Until the deadline came when Jack started telling you about a new weapon the autobots had found: Star Saber, it seemed they had an advantage to win, at least something that looked like they would win the war once and for all. That day you left work late at night, but you knew Optimus would be at the base, so you called Ratchet for a groundbridge. You watched with all the joy in the world. Until you saw Ratchet's long faces, the others were patrolling. You didn't understand what was going on until you saw a weapon completely destroyed.

-Ratchet, what happened? - you asked as you climbed the stairs. Ratchet sighed as he looked at the command center - Star Saber was destroyed, Megatron found a way to create his own Star Saber with Dark Energon.

-How is this possible? Solus Prime's forge can only be used by one.

-Megatron found a way… Optimus fought against him, with some injury but he will be

-Damage?! - you said as Ratchet tried to calm you down.

-He's fine. You should go home… Something in you jumped, you were sick of having to leave, of having to be pulled back - No, not this time. I'm going to talk to him. Don't even think of stopping me - you said seriously as you walked down the hallway without listening to Ratchet's words to reason with you. You moved quickly down the long hallway to get to Optimus' room, you didn't think, you acted on pure instinct and emotion. You wanted to know how he was doing, he didn't care if he tried to kick you out, he wasn't going to back down too. you weren't going to leave him behind, you weren't going to give up anymore. You tried knocking on the huge door to see that it wasn't locked, which surprised you since Optimus was always careful with his room and his secrets. He hadn't let you in either due to various reasons that the autobot leader always made an excuse for. Then you walked in to see around a room that had a huge desk, next to a bed, what appeared to be a pile of datapads on the desk table. You stood admiring the place, as you looked like a little doll or toy as you walked around. The door behind you closed, you jumped in fright. Then you saw Optimus, he seemed to be leaning on his bed. At least you had a fix on him, the problem was how to get to him.

It was not easy for you to get to the bed but with a lot of patience you climbed up one of the bed spreads, you approached carefully so that he would not crush you when he moved, you were in front of his face about to wake him up but you noticed on his face in his optics rather, there was something blue liquid. Biologically, humans and cybetronians were not so different… He was crying… You approached him carefully as you touched his faceplate, it felt cold but at the same time you heard a small engine noise, you saw that he opened the optics slowly to see your face so close to him. You thought he was going to refuse or push you away, you were about to respond but contrary to what you thought, his servo grabbed you to pull you to his chest and place you close to his spark. He was stroking your back with his other servo, feeling a great warmth but you shook your head at what you initially came for. This bot had great skill in reading your mind, he already knew why you were here.

-You were worried about me… I am sorry for my absence these days, little one. Matters have led me into situations to keep you and the rest safe. You clenched your fist, a little clenched your jaw, I was doing it again….

-Don't do it… Optimus was confused to hear you - Pardon?

-Don't you dare hide how you feel in front of me, I know you're trying to protect me…. But what matters to me is how you feel, don't you dare say it's not important, war is important. You are distancing yourself from everyone…

-Little girl, I…

-Don't you dare do this alone… When Unicron arrived you disappeared. I thought you really left - you said trying to keep your tone of voice without tears - You walked away, I don't care if it's for my protection, I don't care how many times you try to push me away, I will stay… I will not leave here - you said determinedly as you looked at the optics. There was a deafening silence between the two of you, you looked at each other with determination that your words, then you felt his arms around you squeezing you a little you felt him leaning you to his chassis. You looked at his optics to see the tears coming back to him.

The burdens of a leader are something I must keep, I stayed away for your protection. I may win some battles others I may lose them with quite a few consequences: the Star Saber, Raf's life was close too…. If it hadn't been Raf… - he said as he lifted me up to look at you better - and if it had been you, I wouldn't have forgiven myself…. The words the giant had said had hit hard in your heart, as he wrapped his servos around you as if to protect you from the world -… I can't lose you like that - he said in a low voice. That made a little more of a dent in you, but you moved closer to his face, leaned gently to his cheek as you saw that his optics were focused on you.

-I know, that's how I've been feeling these days too…. I don't want to lose you like this either.

You gave her a soft kiss on her cheek, which had the effect of sounding her engines a little as she squeezed you a little closer in her servos, you felt her nuzzle to you. You had missed these interactions so much, you had missed her too much.

-Next time, try talking to me. I know I can't share your burden, but I'll listen to you as long as it takes - you said as she put you back closer to her chassis but closer to her spark.

-I will try for you. And I will never leave you alone again - he said as you felt a big pulse of sparkle warm you up a little. That was all you needed to hear, you stayed like that for a while longer as words were not needed at that moment. Maybe when things calmed down you would tell him how you really felt about him. Just feeling his company, though, was all you needed. Maybe one day you would manage to get a smile out of him. But little by little, you felt him close your eyes to fall asleep near his chassis. Feeling at peace at last… Next to him.

[vintagesuga]

Cuddle Party - Ot8

Genre: Huge fluff, Hybrid A.U

Paring: Polyamorus Ot8 x gn! reader

Warning: Polyamory, brief mentions of food

a/n: I meant to post this ages ago, but ya know 🤷🏻‍♀️. It's just kinda hard to keep consistency with my writing, and I hate that :( I want to write more. Also, this is proofread, but still let me know of any mistakes. It is greatly appreciated!!

Coming home to a quiet house wasn't all that unusual. There were sometimes when you could get some peace, but living with 8 hybrids, it was very rare for said peace. The calmest thing you had come home to was them talking about who knows what in the living room.

Kicking off your shoes and hanging up your coat, you placed your keys on the hook by the door. You moved sluggishly as you locked the door and padded into the living room. Before you could make it in all the way, however, a soft ball of fur startled you as it slinked in between your feet. You looked down, making sure you wouldn't kick it, as you quickly caught yourself on the wall. An orange tabby looked up at you, meowing at you like nothing happened. Like the little demon didn't just almost kill you. But you should have guessed he would greet you at the door. He always did.

"Hi to you too, Minho." You said as you reached down to pet him. He met you halfway, butting his head in your hand. "Where are the others?"

Minho didn't answer you. He just started to stroll down the hall. He then looked back at you, trilling at you as if to tell you to follow. You followed behind him as he climbed the stairs and made his way to your bedroom. All the while, he would look back, making sure you were still following.

Your bedroom door was cracked open slightly, just big enough for an animal to slip in. You pushed it open all the way now, trying to be somewhat quiet. The sight that greeted you was absolutely heart meltingly sick.

There on your bed were all your beloved hybrids. All snuggled up to each other, taking up most of the space on your bed. Each one was in their animal form, the mass of fur rising and falling with their breathing. It was cute. You resisted the urge to coo at them, not wanting to disturb their sleep.

Hyunjin, your panther hybrid, was stretched out just below your pillows. With his legs spread toward the middle of your bed, he looked as if he wanted to take up as much space as possible. In the space between his neck and shoulder was a tiny brown ball. It would seem Jisung, your chipmunk hybrid, thought Hyunjin made for a good pillow. I mean, who could blame him? You had done the same thing once or twice. Jisung was curled in on himself, taking up as little space as possible. It was funny, seeing the difference between the two of them.

In the middle of the bed lay a mass of multi-colored fur. A beagle, fennec fox, and Australian Mist. Seungmin, the beagle, was facing your closet. His back against Jeongin's who faced the opposite wall. Jeongin, the fox, was curled up in a ball. His large ears lay flat against his head and his fluffy tail covering his snout. Felix, your other cat hybrid, also had his back facing the other two, and much like Jeongin, he too was curled up in a ball. What was funny was that on top of all three hybrids lay Changbin. The bunny hybrid had somehow burrowed his way into the junction at their backs. His feet faced Seungmin and every so often would thump against the poor puppy. Although the puppy didn't seem to mind.

Chan, ever the caring pack leader, had taken up the space at the foot of the bed. Curled up with his snout in his tail, the wolf hybrid faced the bedroom door as if to protect his pack. His eyes were on you, and his ears would twitch in your direction every so often. There, by his head, the sheets were disrupted, and you suspected that's where Minho was lying. Offering his silent support to your pack leader.

Like I said earlier, it was an adorable sight to behold. All your hybrids cuddled up together on your bed. Note that your bed is big enough that at least two or three of them could be in human form. I mean, that's the whole reason you bought a king-sized bed. Curiously, though, they all decided to sleep in their animal form, more than likely just for convenience.

You carefully snapped a photo, sharing it with the group chat, before quietly making your way to the bathroom. You stopped by your dresser, grabbing a change of clothes.

When you came back out of the bathroom, nothing changed. Minho had just laid back down in his spot, butting his head softly against Chan's. Like he was reassuring him that everything was ok, it was just you. No threats.

You smiled. Times like this, it's what you lived for. Just the domesticity of it all melted your heart. All of you are so different, yet you worked so cohesively, like you were just extensions of each other. Made for one another. It just made you beyond happy.

Quietly, you slunk out of the bedroom, going back downstairs to eat. You would join the fur pile later, maybe even convince one of them to cuddle in their human form. More than likely, Felix or Jisung. For now, however, you needed food. Craving the Jajangmyeon Minho texted you about earlier. You ate relatively slow, and your moves are sluggish. Your exhaustion is setting in gradually.

By the time you finished and cleaned up the dishes, it was nearing 10 pm. So you made your way back upstairs after double-checking locks and lights. Back in your room, the fur pile seemed to have shifted only slightly. Changbin now cuddled up in Felix’s paws. Jeongin had stretched out, and Seungmin was now facing the door more.

Hyunjin was a rock and didn't move an inch. Jisung had gotten hot and splayed out on your pillows, his bushy tail flicking every now and again. You chuckled, shuffling over to the side of the bed before deciding to disturb them. You didn't want to, but you needed to sleep too.

“Alright you moochers. Pack it up and move, I need in here.” You softly nudged Hyunjin's head. Hoping he would get the memo and at least wake up enough to move.

He huffed, moving his head but making no progress in waking up. So you patted his body a little harder. It earned you a growl as he started to shift, which in turn made everyone else shift. Hyunjin's weight disturbing the bed.

Jeongin let out a yawn as he woke up. Pawing at his face before realizing you were there. He jumped up almost instantly, shoving his face in your hands. Jisung startles awake, making a noise as he hops down from the pillows stretching and moving off the bed.

The others showed their enthusiasm in various ways. Nuzzling against you and cuddling up around you, something that was easier in animal form. Jisung had come out of the bathroom, hugging you from behind as he pressed his face in your neck. Mumbling his hellos against your skin. Chan waited patiently. He had transformed into his human form a bit ago. Waiting for the others to have their turns first.

“How was work?” He greeted you with a peck to your lips. Hearing a couple of groans from those who had shifted. Seungmin made a comment about needing to throw up. Like he wasn't just peppering your face earlier.

You groaned at the mention of work. “It was ok. Had to sit through a dumb meeting that they could have just summed up in an email.”

“That's how it is, though. They just want to make sure you hear it, I guess.” Chan chuckled as you rolled your eyes.

“I guess. It's just so boring, and now I'm tired and just wanting cuddles.”

You flopped on the bed, mindful of those who were still lying down. You got comfy in the middle, opening up either side of you to anyone who wanted cuddles. Jisung dove at the opportunity, nuzzling up to your side as he tangled his limbs with yours. It had been a while since he had his turn with you.

That's how you all worked. Taking turns being cuddled up with each other. Since you couldn't shift into an animal, you were often in the middle of some cuddle sandwiches. The others could shift so they could shimmy themselves wherever there was space. You all had your own rooms but it was nice sleeping all together sometimes. Changbin and Jisung, especially, loved making nests in your bed.

“Why were you all in my room?” You asked as Hyunjin took up the space on your other side. His long arms snake around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“Cause we missed you. And your scent is strongest here.” He mumbled into your hair, already falling back asleep.

“I wasn't even gone that long.”

“Yeah but still. Missed you.” Jisung pressed a kiss to your forehead.

It was easiest for Hyunjin and Jisung to be the ones in human form when all nine of you slept together. Since they were the biggest and smallest in animal form. The others curled up along the bed in various places. It was hot, sure, that's why you dressed so loosely, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

This was home.

©️vintagesuga Do not repost.

[sad-endings-suck]

Still think it’s hilarious that Kratos looked at Faye, a woman that regularly wielded a magic godkilling boomerang axe with ease, performed magical warding spells, and was considered a revered warrior and respected entity among other respected beings, and still thought: “yeah, that’s a normal mortal human person”.

[just-some-trans-nobody]

December Christmas Monster stories

December 13.) Half giant x GN reader

Warnings: depression, hating job, job quitting, size difference

Minors Don't Interact!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Working as one of Santa's elf was a seasonal job, the pay was shit but it was fun. Pretty much volunteer work. There was a bonus though. It came in the form of the man playing Santa named Treg. 

He was a half giant and standing next to him in your work uniform you really did look like a Christmas elf. Treg was kind to everyone, always smiling. You couldn't help but be drawn to him. It helped that you were one of his main elfs. Every shift he had you worked too. Always right next to him helping him with the kids or getting him water. Any time he had to get up and walk somewhere you were with him to make sure he didn't bump into any kids. It was hard seeing kids when you were that big. Treg was always so happy when you helped him out. Constantly thanking you for every little thing you did for him. 

Treg often would make you a cup of hot chocolate during your shared break. It always tasted better when he made it. The two of you would always chat the whole break before going back to going to work. 

The work gossip was that both of you were dating in secret. Though any time the two of you were confronted Treg vehemently denied it. You did so too, just less convincing than him. One of your coworkers noticed this and asked you in private if you wished you were dating him. You frowned as you nodded your head. They gave you a look of pity before walking away. 

They must have said something to Treg because after that day he started avoiding you. It hurt badly when suddenly your schedule changed from his. You had been replaced by another worker who preferred to pose for the photos and flirt with all the parents instead of helping Treg. Not that you could do anything about it, you were assigned to a different Santa. He was a satyr who didn't care about his job, he worked the dead shift hardly anyone came around when he worked and he liked it that way.

Your fun job became miserable in less than a week all because you couldn't get a handle on your dumb one sided crush. You didn't smile at work anymore, what was the point?

Before the end of the second week you had turned in your uniform and quit. You went home and cried that night. The next day you went out to the store to go get comfort food. Walking around the store you filled your cart with tooth rotting snacks. Your heart hurt so you wanted your stomach to hurt more to take your mind away from it. 

Walking around absentmindedly you didn't pay attention to anything until you heard heavy footsteps. Looking up you saw Treg approaching you. You had the urge to run away from him but found yourself frozen in place. “Y/n? I heard you quit? Why did you do that?” His voice sounded heart broken. Why did he sound heart broken? Treg was the one who rejected and ignored you, not the other way around. 

“What does it matter to you? You made it clear you didn't like me when you started ignoring me.” You snorted, turning your head to look anywhere but at him. “I only started distancing myself because I realized I liked you too and that scared me. I'm constantly scared that I'm not going to know your next to me and I'll accidently hurt you.” Treg explained stepping closer to you. “Didn't every day we worked together prove I could handle that? You never hurt me before, why worry about that now?” You asked, glancing at him. “Because the thought of being with you meant a higher chance of hurting you but when you were gone it hurt even worse.” His eyes were starting to water as he talked. 

How could you be upset at that face? Looking down at your feet you stepped forward reaching your hand out to hold his sleeve. “I'd take that risk to be with you.” You told him, looking up at him. “For you? I'd risk anything.” Treg said carefully, holding your hand in his large one. You looked like a doll compared to him, you kind of liked it. 

[monstersmashorpass]

SMASH OR PASS: Giants, Magic the Gathering

[Art credits: MTG Card art]

Please reblog for greater sample size, as per usual!

[movie-plush-baby]

(Tumblr you FUCK LET ME POST THIS)

Imagine holding your Cookie Run comfort character in your palms as a human. You’re a big, scary human who can eat them. And they’re a tiny little cookie. You could eat them right there, take a huge bite out on them… but you don’t. You wouldn’t do that to them.

How do they react? Are they horrified and trying to inch away? Are they ready to fight you? Or are they just mildly amused at the situation?

And what do you do to them? Do you continue inspecting them in your palms and let them inspect you? Do you try and convince them that you’re completely safe? Or do you give ‘em a big smooch on the forehead?

[tanglepelt]

Dc x dp idea 37

This is just a silly one

The box ghost is attacking the league. Dc is in a different dimension for this so they don’t have the proper weaponry. The ghosts are immune to standard magic and just turn intangible for any attack.

So over powered.

Danny is riding cujo like a horse. Cujo is in big guard dog mode. In comes Danny riding his dog just pointing a thermos at boxy and sucking him in.

Danny also has a cowboy hat on. And just tips it at them saying your welcome as cujo takes off.

Too bad either krypto, Titus, or Ace are there. Idk if there are other hero’s dogs. Those are just the ones i know.

When one of the dogs bark at Cujo. Cujo just goes back into puppy mode cause he wants to play now. He’s bored of being a horse.

This leaves Danny sitting on the ground in front of the league.

[logandria]

I only have ✨SEVEN✨ evil lesbian spider mommy silk scarves left! And then the design will be gone forever~

105x105cm of pure silk satin. Comes in a pretty pink gift box. Illustrated by yours truly~

The scarf is illustrated with some foolish young adventurer who wandered into the den of a giant spider to seek the treasure within, only to end up as the monster’s newest toy… Poor thing! I wonder what the venom will do to her…

This is one of my personal favorite scarves to wear. It puts perfectly with black, pink, blue, purple, and grey clothes, and I included as many shades of pink and red as I reasonably could so it would match a wide range of lipsticks too!

[davinawritings]

Monster lover that gets personally offended when they ask you to sit on their face and you hover.

When you say you just don’t want to crush them, it just makes it worse.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN CRUSH ME? YOU THINK I AM FRAGILE AND WEAK?!?!”

After using their strong arms to pull you down onto their face they make you gush on their tongue. They then spend the next few hours showing you just how strong they are by holding you in their arms and bouncing you up and down on their cock, manhandling you into any position they want, and making you take everything they give you.

By the end you are exhausted and on the brink of passing out and they are still muttering under their breath about a human insinuating that they are weak.

🖤❤️💕💕❤️🖤