#so he gave up in a smaller fit of rage

[fioletowa-krowa]

And now for the sport I’ve been perfecting since I was tiny: “trying not to audibly cry while dad road rages down the freeway”

[last-starry-sky]

Simon constantly teases you about how short/small you are. It upsets you, makes you feel singled out, weak, incompetent. Turns out he’s just dying to know how well you can fit him, how big his cock would look next to your hands and feet. Won’t shut up about it during sex either. A dash of mean Simon + his untapped size kink

eeeeee im gonnafuckining explode OKAY FOR REAL I WAS DYING WHEN I SAW THIS. thank u, beautiful, patient anon, for blessing me with this prompt!! I hope I did it justice!

ghost x petite!f!military!reader

(MDNI - NSFW uhhhh grossly inaccurate military stuff, creeper, bully simon :), i’m using “petite” as in “shorter and smaller than the average woman” trying to keep everything as open and vague as possible, oral, deep throating, ghost has a raging size kink, unprotected piv, also this is LONG (5.6k) 💀 i'm sorry!!! skip to the end for smut if that's all you want!❤️) 

It’s been the same fucking comments from your lieutenant all week. Day in, day out and it’s starting to wear a sore spot into your hardened skin. 

“Muzzle up. Arms tired already? ‘s a big rifle for someone your size to carry.”

“Keep pace with the group. Your short legs aren’t their problem.”

“Shoulders back! Chest out! Some’ve y’ need all the height you can get!”

All you can do is grit out a “yes, sir” or “no, sir” and push yourself even harder to keep up with the taller and stronger men and women around you. The massive Brit in charge is running your training group. While you expected this to be hard (your CO hadn’t been mincing words when he pitched it as “advanced”) but you never expected this. 

First of all, from the very beginning, he seemed to have a problem with you. Only you. There were a handful of women in the group, but you were unfortunately the shortest and smallest. Not that it bothered you. You’d spent your whole life this size. You were used to it. It was everyone else, especially the wanna-be, alpha males that flocked to the military like flies, that gave you grief over it.

The second you all lined up off the transport, you could feel his eyes on you. You tried not to stare back while the other Brit, Captain Price, gave a short introductory talk. You hadn’t heard a word of it. He stood there, flanking the captain, in a black, skin tight t shirt, with his obscenely muscled arms crossed over his ridiculously broad chest. A buzzing filled your ears as his black eyes bored into you. His stare so hot and heavy it made you sweat. His eyes were all of his face that he left uncovered, the rest was hidden by a skull mask and balaclava. You tried to ignore him, but you swore you saw the ink on his arm flexing as the captain introduced him: Lt. Ghost.

From the first training exercise, a simple one on one spar, he pulled you of all people from the women’s group to demonstrate on. What could you do? Refuse? He had at least a foot and close to one hundred pounds of muscle on you. You tried not to shake as you squared up at the opposite end of the mat. 

He told you to rush him, to “show him what you got”. Well, you tried. Once he gave signal to start, all you could do was try to fake him out. You ran at him before quickly darting to the side, trying to get behind him using your short stature to your advantage. Unfortunately for you, he was crazy agile for a large guy. He pivoted on his foot, watching you as you tried to fade to his left. You steeled yourself when he caged you in his arms, sweeping your feet off the mat. Your world was a blur until he slammed you roughly down onto the mat. Your breath was knocked from you, your vision spinning. You heard the crowd around you let out a collective “OH”. It took you a moment to realize he had you pinned. Your legs and hands held painfully down with his own. 

“‘sat all y’ got? Givin’ up already?” he grunted out with a gravely laugh while he stared down at you. He leaned down until his chest was pressed to yours, that stupid mask just grazing your face. “Or y’ got some fight left in y’? 

Hell yeah you still had some fight in you. You managed to slip out one leg from under him, jamming your knee quickly into his side. A kidney hit was dirty, you knew that. You wouldn’t dream of doing it in a normal spar, against an evenly matched partner, but he deserved it for picking on you; for picking a woman when he could have easily dominated any of the men in the room. He reacted exactly as you expected: crumpling forward in pain. You didn’t waste a second pulling your hands and legs from his grip. Another cry rang out from the crowd when you rolled out from under him, ready to jump on his back and make the pin.

“Olright, olright,” he said rubbing at his side, sitting up with a grunt before you could pin him. “I yield, y’ cheatin’ lil’ git. Next up.” 

He pointed at one of the other soldiers to come forward and take your place. The man gave you a fist bump as you left the mat and you told him “good luck”. You knew he would need it. When you turned around you saw that Ghost’s gaze had never left you. 

-

You walked back to base on Friday with your blood boiling, failure weighing heavy on your psyche after a long, hot afternoon of sniper training. You had given all you could; had put up with extra hard, extra long training, with comment after comment about your size and strength. 

Shorty. Shrimp. Rifle looks like it weights more than you. Gonna manage that?

Up early, in late everyday, almost too tired to eat and shower by the end. You had a mind to march right into Price’s office and tell him you were leaving that night. You’d made it a week, that was good enough for you. You would rather face hell from your CO back home than endure another hour of this. The second you sat down on your bunk, however, you passed out.

The exhaustion must have snapped something in your brain. You woke up a few hours later groggy and sweaty, your bunk mate snoring away. You were half on your bed with your feet still in your boots. You rolled onto your back with a groan, wiping the dried tears and dust from your cheeks. 

You let your weak arms fall over your face. You felt pathetic. You honestly wanted to just lay on your thin mattress and cry in the dark until the day started. Another day of enduring that British cunt with a superiority complex calling you short and weak, of singling you out in front of your peers, of making you question your career up to this point. He was eroding the very core of your person at this point, and you didn’t know how much long you could take it. 

You let out a sigh and, with more than a little effort, pull your sore, battered body out of bed. What you really needed was to shower, to think this out, and then find Captain Price to talk. No good would come from rushing into a decision in this state. 

You enjoyed your shower. It was nice to have all of the hot water and the whole communal space to yourself. You took your time getting dressed back into your rumbled clothes in the empty locker room. Nothing but the sound of dripping water echoing off the tile around you. 

Leaving the showers, you looked up and down the bare corridors, only enough of the overhead fluorescents left on to avoid a safety hazard. Your hair dripped onto your shoulders while you stood in the center of the hall. Price’s office had to be somewhere around here.

You wandered out of the barracks, down hall after hall of the same, painted block walls and plain tile floors, until you started seeing name plates posted haphazardly on the wooden doors. Your eyes wandered from door to door until you found what you were looking for: a sheet of 8.5x11 paper taped crookedly outside an office with Cpt. Price scrawled across the middle.

You let out a sigh of relief as you brought up your hand to knock on the door. It was almost over. The captain seemed like a reasonable man. He would surely be willing to listen to you, maybe give you some sound advice on whether you were actually cut out for this level of training. Before your hand could land on the door, a gloved hand came out from the shadows of the hall in front of you to rest above yours.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he whispered harshly.

You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. You closed your eyes in annoyance, balling your hands at your sides. Of fucking course he was here. Right at the last hurdle. Right before you could seek relief from a superior, his superior too. You let out a long breath through your nose before you opened your eyes to face him.

“I came to talk to Captain-” you started speaking with a wavering voice before he cut you off.

“Not in. Not yet, at least. Had a long night.” 

He leaned against the door, starting down at you again. God, he fucking annoyed you. You’d never had a CO that frayed at your nerves like he did. How dare he come off so cool, gripping his oversized biceps with his stupid skeleton gloves. 

You stepped back from the door. “I’ll come back when he’s in then. Sorry-”

“Can help you if you need somethin’” he interrupted you again, casually canting his hips forward, moving his hand to the door handle. 

You shook you head. While you really wanted to give him a piece of your mind, you would prefer not ending this with a disciplinary, so you bit your tongue. 

“I don’t need anything from you,” you answered with just a bit of venom.

He heard it, you were sure of it. He clicked the door open, letting it fall open to reveal the dark room inside. 

“No. I think you do, small-stuff.” When you didn’t make a move, just let another angry breath out your nose and furrow your brow deeper, he shifted to the side and pointed inside the room. “In. Now. That’s an order.”

You clenched your teeth and did as you were told. Not that you had an option now. 

-

You walked up to the desk at the back of the room. Price sure did keep his office in a state. Papers and folders were piled across his desk. A landline phone and old desktop computer were shoved to either corner of the desk. More folders and binders piled over the keyboard and hid the keypad of the phone. You heard Ghost’s boots squeak lightly on the tile behind you, then the door shut with a click. Another, soft click followed. He flipped the light switch, illuminating the spot right above you with hazy, yellow light. 

You turned to face the man who’d gone out of his way to made himself your nemesis for the past week. He silently sauntered up to you, stopping behind one of the chairs in front of the desk. You crossed your arms defensively over your chest and tried to make your face placid while he pulled the chair out. He took a seat, well, he tried too. He could barely fit his massive fame in the little chair. It groaned underneath him as he mirrored your pose, arms crossed and legs spread. 

You sat silently staring at each other before he asked, “Well?” with a roll of his shoulders. 

You picked over your words, trying to detangle everything you had thought up in the shower. Ghost bouncing his knee pulled you back to reality. It was like the threatening hiss of a rattlesnake's tail. Better to just get it out than keep him waiting.

“Do you have a problem with me?” you squeaked out, eyes on you boots. The direct route it was, then. 

“What?” he asked, confused.

You looked up at him, exhausted, eyes pleading. “Look, I know I’m short and not as strong as the other guys . . . especially the guys, but the way you talk to me-”

“Don’t have a problem with y’,” he said throwing his arm across the back of the chair, readjusting while he raked his eyes up and down your frumpy form. Probably looking for something to complain about. “If’m bein’ honest-” he started before cutting himself off and turning his head. 

You uncrossed your arms, letting them fall to your sides. “What . . .” you questioned, gesturing with your hands in front of you. “Then why do you-”

He jiggled his knee a few more times before turning back to face you. “Little thing like you,” he said darkly, so deep and low you almost didn’t hear it. He clenched his fingers on his pants as he cleared his throat. “You keep up with the rest’ve ‘em well enough. Ain’t got a problem.”

“Little thing,” you whispered, repeating him sarcastically. 

Ghost groaned at that. Honest to god groaned in front of you, sending a shiver up your spine. You froze as his heavy eyes found their way back to you. 

“Yeah. You sure are,” he said scraping his fingers down his pants. “Spunky, too. Used t’ fightin’ for your place. Like that. Makes me wonder-” he trailed off as his large eyes wandered down from your face to your chest. 

You were shocked. No way. You had to be misinterpreting this. Maybe you were still sunstroked from yesterday, because there was no way you were reading him correctly. 

“Wonder what?” you piped, blush pinching at your cheeks.

“Wonder . . .” he said rocking his head back and forth, trying to tie a sentence together. “Wonder if y’ can be sweet, too.” He let you stew in wide-eyed disbelief for a moment as he gestured at you. “Wonder what you look like underneath all that.” Your stomach clenched as he tilted his hips forward, spreading his legs wider, to palm is cock through his pants. “Wonder if it matches what I’ve imagined.”

You would be lying if it was just your stomach clenching after that shameless display.

It was crazy how it all made sense now. The constant attention. The names. You thought he was being overly hard on you, picking at you, trying to get you to drop out. You rubbed a hand over your heated face. He was a grown man (a large one, too) that was acting like a little boy with a worm on a stick, chasing the girl he liked around the playground. You thought he hated you and all this time he was actually getting off to you. You felt like an absolute moron. 

“Doesn’t have t’ leave this room. If you’re interested,” he said in that deep gravel, still trying to keep himself together. 

You let him sit in silence for a long, tortuous, moment. 

“And if I’m not?” you finally asked. 

He nodded to the door behind him with his head. “Then leave. Talk t’ Price in the morning. No harm.”

“No foul,” you finished his phrase, running your fingers over your bottom lip. 

Silence hung between you for a hot moment in the cold, stale air of the office. You had a hard time believing he would just let you go at this point. Not that you planned to, the danger intrigued you too much to walk away. This line of work had made you a wholly different animal, it’s why you were here. You ran into war zones, battlefields, hostage negotiations, the places others couldn’t run out of fast enough. You’d been dealing with the people that most couldn’t stomach, the ones that couldn’t function in civilian society, for so long that they had worn a place under your skin. This lieutenant, Ghost, he had been in this just as long, if not longer, than you. He had to feel the same. Fuck, he had be worse.     

“What . . . what do you want?” you finally managed to ramble out. 

He let out a rough hum of satisfaction. You hated how you responded to it. You rolled your thighs together and, fuck, you were wet. You let out a small, shuddering breath. You’d gone a week with no praise, no kindness, and now here he was, the big, bully Brit who’d made your life hell practically purring over you. 

He trained his hungry eyes on you and motioned up with a flick of his fingers. “Wanna see ‘em. Don’t even have’t take your shirt off.”

A part of you wondered if this was all a trick as you slowly rucked your t shirt up to expose your stomach. That would track with how your week had gone so far. He was so blatant and open though, gripping the chair beneath him like he was about to launch out of it at a moment’s notice. He groaned as you pulled your shirt up to reveal your plain black sports bra. It was nothing special, standard issue, but it kept you strapped down. Not that you really had all that much to contain. 

He ran his hand over (what you assumed) was his mouth under the balaclava. He waited a moment for you to continue before urging you forward. 

“Come on, love. Don’t get shy. Wanna see ‘em.”

You slipped your fingers underneath the wide band at the bottom, hesitating only a moment before you pulled everything, shirt included, up over your head. You stared down at your chest while you balled your clothes in your hands.

“Not much to see,” you whispered, watching your nipples perk and skin pucker under the AC.

“Fuckin’ hell” was all he said. You dared to look up. “Fuck,” he continued, “Fuckin’ . . . get over’ere. Just fuckin’ dyin’ t’ get my hands on you.”

You dropped your clothes on the floor, closing the few steps between you quickly before falling forward into his grasp. You weren’t sure if you were ready for what this desperate, mountain of a man was about to unleash on you, but fuck did it excite you. Once he had you between his legs, gloved hands scraping up your back and around your waist, testing his fingers as he held you, but he didn’t do anything but look. He stared at you like you were made of glass. 

You stared at him, too. You hadn’t been this close since he’d pinned you on the first day, and you were pretty sure you’d been half-concussed then. You could see where he had eye black painted carefully around his eyes to fill the holes in his mask. You could see his long eyelashes, clumped together with that same oily black paint. It made the whites of his eyes stand out vibrantly. His large dark irises darted back and forth over your chest. You wondered what he was planning, what he was thinking. 

He didn’t leave you wondering for long. He pressed you forward, mouthing at your nipple through the mask. You let out a short whine, pussy clenching as his large hands kneaded at your waist. The feeling was like nothing you’d felt before. The fabric between you muted the translation between his actions and your pleasure. You could feel how eagerly he bit and sucked at you, but you were denied half of it. It made you dig your fingers into his shoulders in frustration.

“Want more?” he said haggardly, pulling off of you. He tugged at your belt, not waiting for an answer. “Then get these off.”

You did your best to undo your belt and pants despite your shaking and moaning while he dove back in, working harder at your other nipple. Once you’d dropped your pants down to your ankles he pulled you forward to step out of them, wedging you into the spread of his legs. You toed out of your shoes and then he kicked everything behind you, your boots banging loudly against the steel desk. You heard papers shift and fall, but couldn’t find a reason to care. He held you, running his gloved hands over your exposed skin while you shivered in font of him in nothing but your panties. 

He palmed his cock again before fumbling around to find his belt. You heard him click it open, the metal jangling as it went slack. 

“On your knees,” he ordered breathlessly. “Wan’ see what that little mouth can do with this.” 

You complied immediately, viciously curious as to what he was packing. If the tent in his pants was any indication, you had your work cut out for you. He popped open the button of his fly and then slowly unzipped. You couldn’t see anymore through his briefs than you had in his pants, but still, you leaned forward. You curled your hands on your knees, biting your lip, willing him to give you permission. 

“Go ahead,” he said giving himself one lazy, squeezing pump.

You put your hands on his inner thighs, right above his knees, testing the waters. When he didn’t say anything, you slid your hands up his legs, a soft, swishing sound following. You stopped at his crotch, pulling yourself forward before tentatively, gently, smoothing up his clothed cock. 

He groaned, covering your hand with his, forcing you to grip his girth. Your thumb just barely met your ring finger. 

“Fuckin’-” was all he could get out before pulling your hand off. 

He used his other hand to pull his dick out before pressing your hand to his hard, burning length. You gave him another pump, feeling how the skin stretched beneath your hand, then squeezing to feel how goddamn rigid he was. The tip of his cock made your mouth water. 

It was crazy. On you knees in front of him like this, you weren’t a competent soldier, a woman who held herself with poise and respect in front of her colleagues. He wasn’t an expertly trained, battle-hardened, special operative of the British Army. You were both human. Both hungry. 

You tipped his cock toward you to lap at the underside of the head. You met his eyes just as you closed your mouth around him, sucking the salt from his slit. He shut his eyes with a groan, letting his head fall back for a moment as he reached his hand up to grip at your skull. He opened his eyes to watch as he slowly bobbed your head down his cock. 

He gripped himself at the base, forcing your mouth to take him until you met his fingers. You did. Just barely, gagging as his head slid against the roof of your mouth to the soft palate at the back of your throat. He didn’t let you pull back. Instead, he traced the inside of your lips with his thumb, drool coating his black gloves.

“Lookit’ that,” he groaned as your throat pulsed and burned around him. “Little thing takes it all s’fuckin’ well.”

He let go of your head, letting you pull off of his cock. You stared at it with heavy eyes as your head spun from lack of oxygen, it glistened with your spit in the harsh light. He gave himself another languid stroke, watching you force air into your lungs while you sat practically naked on the floor between his knees. 

“Think you can take it in that little cunt a’yours like that?” he asked, stopping his stroke at the head.

You bit your bottom lip as you looked up at him. You gave him a slow nod. Any fear or paranoia you had before was long evaporated. You were wet, horny, needy. You needed him to give you something, and if he was going to give you a choice, you could do worse than getting railed until you couldn’t remember your name. You clenched, hands clawing at your thighs, as you watched him pump another stroke up that monster cock of his in front of your face before grunting out his order.

“Get up then. Against the desk.”

You scrambled up to your feet. He followed you, rising quickly from his chair to tower over you, pressing you backwards into the steel desk. Your hands reached out for purchase as he roughly gripped your thighs, throwing you on top of Price’s paper-laden desk. Folders and binders clattered to the floor, papers swirling across the tile as he shoved you down, ass right on the edge. 

He stood between your legs, hips flush to yours, his cock laying across your standard issue panties like a weapon. He pressed the weight of it against your skin with a groan, head spreading precum into your stomach. Quicker than you realized, he reached behind his back, coming back with a knife. It was almost invisible palmed in his large hand, only the tip of the blade winked from the tip of his thumb. With two quick flicks, he cut up the side of your underwear. He slid the knife back to wherever he had taken it from, like it was the most normal thing in the world, before pulling the now useless scrap of fabric from between the press of your bodies. 

He held the scrap of fabric in his hand for a minute, investigating it under the light before tossing it to the floor.

“Really are beggin’ for it, eh?” He said sliding his cock up the seam of your pussy. His easy, fluid movements as he rocked against you answered for you. “Fuckin’ wet just from that?”

You nodded, lacing your legs around his hips, trying to pull him closer. He pressed his hand into your stomach in response, squishing you against the desk hard enough to make you squirm. He pulled away enough to notch the head of his cock at your entrance.

“Needy little fuckin’ thing,” he said with a punch of his hips, nails biting into the soft skin of your stomach as his tip danced perilously on the edge of holding inside you. “Want it so fuckin’ bad? Want this inside y’?” 

He took himself in hand and watched as he pushed inside. You both groaned. You let your head fall against the desk with a dull thunk, eyes shut and legs shaking as he pushed deeper and deeper inside your slick hole. 

“Fuck.” He was breathless for the first time since you had met him. “Fuck are y’ tight. So fuckin’ small. Even gonna fit it all?” He rambled to himself as he took hold of your hips and watched himself fuck slowly in and out of you; hypnotized by the clutch of your greedy pussy pulling him in, resisting as he pulled out. 

You let out a small cry of frustration, tears pricking around your eyes. He was big, but that wasn’t the problem. You had taken your share of dick, you could take him. It was killing you how slow he was. He was lost in his own world, watching his cock slid in and out of you as you lay there silently begging for him to just fuck you already. 

“Quiet,” he whispered with a half-hearted harshness, hand trailing down to your pussy. 

You almost jumped as he began to rub a wide circle around your clit. Your slick barely dulled the rough texture of his glove. You shuddered, clenching around him, whining as he found a rhythm with his thumb and cock. Your clench punched the breath out of him. He fell over you, bracing himself with his arm. You could hear the hollow sound of his breaths behind his mask as he gave up trying to pump into your vice of a pussy. 

He nuzzled the cold plastic of his mask against your ear. “Not gonna’ last long doin’ shit like that,” he grumbled. He held himself up, pulling your face to look at him with a hand under your jaw. “Wha’d’y want?” 

You stared back at him with confusion. 

“Where d’y want it?” he clarified.

If you had a brain cell still functioning, you would have told him to pull out. It was the safer of the options he was giving you. 

But you didn’t. You moaned out, “Fuck. Inside me. Please,” like the absolute whore you had become once he’d whipped his cock out. 

Not one to question, apparently, Ghost was back in position the moment he heard you. He pulled your hips back to meet his, cock punching all the way in until you winced as the head hit your cervix. He took hold of one of your legs, hand running up the length of it, positioning it until it lay unfolded up his chest. He gripped his fingers around your ankle, starting at it as his other hand squeezed your waist.

“Lookit, fuck. Lookit that,” he said as he pistoned into you. You cut off the loud moan that he punched out of you. The change in angle was . . god it was like nothing you’d had before.  

“Like that?” he said, letting your foot dangle on his shoulder while he held your waist with both hands, driving into you mercilessly. 

If you could have answered, you would have spoke truthfully. You were sure. You would have moaned about how good it was, how he was so big and filled you so well. As it was, his powerful thrusts jarred you against the cool metal of the desk too much to do anything more than moan and hold on as more papers flooded the floor. 

“Got y’self off at all this week?” he asked, panting breathlessly.

You shook your head, a small whine of anticipation falling form your lips at the thought.

“Gonna nut just thinkin’ about you cummin’ on my cock,” he mumbled, trailing his hand back to your clit.

You let out a sad whine, bucking into his thrust as he touched you. You were close. So fucking close.

He began to circle your clit like before, finding that delicious rhythm with the pound of his hips that pulled you higher and higher, tighter and tighter, until dazzling sparks lit up your core. You reeled back with a cry, clenching his cock, arching as he worked you through your peak. 

His hand ripped away from you sooner than you’d like. He fell over you, both hands biting into the skin of your hips as he pounded into you as your pussy pulsed, any semblance of cadence or love-making gone as he chased his own high. You dug your fingers into his t shirt. The sweat drenched fabric was almost too slippery to hold on to. 

“Fuck! Too fuckin’ hot ‘n, fuck, tight. Fuck, ‘m gonna-” His weak series of sighs and groans, followed by the distinct feeling of his cock flaring inside you told you what he couldn’t.

He lay over you for a moment, panting as you both caught your breaths. You wondered if he was also stewing in the monumental realization of what the fuck you had both just done. You’d just broken so many rules. So much was at stake. He’d just cum inside a subordinate on his bosses desk, and you didn’t work for the same country. This was going to be a mess. You were sure of it. 

He pulled away from you, pulling himself out with a smothered whine. You crossed your hands over your middle as you watch him zip back up and adjust his mask. It was wild how he was back to normal within seconds. You half expected him to walk out the door and just leave you here like this. At least all of your clothes were here, save your sliced up panties. 

But he didn’t leave. He held out a hand to you, only letting you stare at it dumbly for a minute before he flicked his fingers toward himself, urging you to act. You took his hand and he pulled you up easily. He even let you slump against him after you sat up. You’d forgotten how tired a good lay made you.

Again, you expected him to leave you now that you were conscious and able to dress yourself, maybe leave you with a heavy warning (read: threat) to not talk about this. As you tried to shuffle to the side to try and get off the desk, he stopped you. His hands gripped both of your shoulders suddenly.

“The fuck y’ doin’?” he said, forcing you back in front of him.  

“Getting . . . dressed?” you answered with unease. 

“Funny,” he said with a single, dry, laugh. “You’re a funny lil’ thing, too.”

His hands skimmed down your sides before quickly seizing you by the hips, throwing you over his shoulder like a backpack. You gasped as your stomach landed on his solid shoulder, punching the air from your lungs.

“Think we’re done already?” he said, turning around. 

You watched as the desk, and the messy you had made on and around it, including your scattered clothing, circled back into view, then slipped away. He palmed a whole cheek of your ass in one hand, spreading you open enough for cold air to chill your leaking core, as he stalked toward the door. He probed a finger into your pussy, swirling the cum you felt leaking out across your folds. 

“Got a whole day off, y’know,” he said matter-of-factly as he opened the door. Completely ignoring that he had a naked woman slung over his shoulder like a caveman. “Think we should go back to mine. Relax. See what else that little cunt’ve yours can take.”

[hee0soo]

Left me waiting - A S[e]oul Story -2-

Pairing — Kim Hongjoong x Foreigner!Reader

Summary — 2 phones and 2 people staring at them for days... neither of them knowing what to do or think...

Genre — fluff

AU/Trope Info — Idol!Au, SliceofLifeAu

Wordcount — 1.1k

Warnings — none

Rating — sfw

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Unsure what to do, you stared at the piece of paper Hongjoong had given you 3 days ago during your visit at KQ. The writing on it seemed to glare at you as you contemplated on what to do with it.

Should you really text him like he had asked?

So far you had not had the guts to actually open a new chat for him, hadn’t even saved his number yet as you didn’t know if it was a smart idea.

All the things that could go wrong were racing through your head. What if he thought you were boring, or if he would get in trouble for handing out his privat number just like that! Or even worse, what if a sasaeng somehow caught wind of what had transpired inside the company 3 days ago?!

It just didn’t seem like a good idea in your mind.

And yet here you were. Late at night, bundled in your hotel room blanket with the little note in one hand and your phone in the other.

It would only take one press of your finger and his number would have been saved, or you could just go back, not save it and throw the paper into the trash. The matter would have been solved either way.

You wondered if he waited for you to text him. Wondered if he was waiting or if he had already forgotten about the encounter. A part of you wished he had while the other part, the part that was selfishly hoping he remembered you, did not.

You looked back down at the note. The scribble looked a bit messy in your opinion, but it fit him.

Hesitant you typed in the number to save it for now. The text icon seemingly teasing you as it sat there innocently like it was not causing a raging storm of anxiety inside your head.

Groaning in frustration you flopped back into the pillows on the bed.

So what if you texted him, huh? What was the worst thing that could happen? After all, it was him who had willingly given his number to you, not the other way around and if Hongjoong had truly changed his mind about this, then the worst thing happening was just not getting an answer at all.

That, you could actually live with.

And so you quickly typed something into the message bar.

Uhm hi - Send 11:43 pm

I don’t know if you remember me but you kinda gave me your number a few days ago - Send 11:43 pm

It’s y/n btw - Send 11:44 pm

---------

Tired and ready to drop dead where he was standing, Hongjoong followed his members inside their dorm.

For once, he had actually managed to part ways with his studio without having the others drag him out by the hair. Preparations for the upcoming comeback were always exhausting, but this time he seemed to struggle more then usual.

“You good, hyung?” Mingi asked in passing with his eyebrow raised almost into his hairline. The smaller rapper, waved his concern off with a nod.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just could use some sleep.”

Mingi took it. They all knew what the leader meant as it was a common thing to be felt in the group and especially for their second oldest it was almost like he was just dragging himself through those days.

“The bathroom is free right now if you want,” Seonghwa suggested from his place on the couch. He had gotten home a bit earlier with Wooyoung and Yeosang and had both of them pressed to his sides. Yeosang was snoring gently against his shoulder, not at all catching what was happening on the TV while their second youngest was playing dome game on his phone.

Hongjoong knew that Seonghwa hadn’t meant his words as a suggestion but more like a silent demand for him to hurry up and go to bed already and while the rapper would have fought him on any other day, today he just accepted it.

He dragged himself to the bathroom, quickly getting rid of his clothes to step into the shower.

The hot water running down his body let his tense shoulders relax, warming his hurting muscles from dance practice and soothing the pain as best as it could.

Hongjoong let his thoughts run wild, his mind going back to his phone where he was still hoping to get a message from the cute woman that had brought his airpods back to him.

But now, 3 days later, there was still nothing. His hope was slowly dyeing with every passing hour and he wondered if he had come on to strong.

Maybe you had gotten rid of the paper he had given you or even worse, sold it so someone! Or maybe he had let the managers gotten into his head with their possible horror stories about what could have happened.

Was it stupid to just hand his private number to you, an atiny who had obviously known who he was just based on the fact that you knew where to find him on a random Tuesday? Possibly.

But if you had really wanted to sell him out, then why did you bring his belongings back to him in the first place? So no, Hongjoong did not think that you sold it to anyone. The missing spam texts from random people was another clue to that.

Sighing he washed up.

Maybe he should just give up waiting. If you hadn’t texted now, it was highly unlikely that you were going to at this point. However he did feel his ego get a little hit in the process.

Hongjoong shut off the water just as someone knocked on the door.

“Hyung can you hurry? I still need to shower too!” San whined through the wooden door as he dried himself off with the towel waiting on their toilet.

“I’ll be out soon, San-ah!” he yelled a muttered a loving “Brat..” to himself.

San sauntered away and while the leader finished his skin care, he didn’t notice his phone on the counter lighting up with new messages.

Only when he was out and in his room already did he almost drop his phone when he saw it.

Grinning happily into his pillow he typed back…

Taglist: @lelaleleb @roronoas-wife

[vesppperoro]

Envy!Reader with the I.M.P

Includes: Envy!Reader, Blitzø, Millie, Moxxie, Loona.

You were going through one of your rage fits. Someone from your ring leaked some of your performance secrets to Mammon and he stole your ideas.

You were in your serpentine demon form, thrashing about your ring.

One of your own people betrayed you! Your own ideas, the life you built using those secrets. It pissed you off.

You were about to destroy a building until you saw a giant ad.

“I.M.P, Immediate Murder Professionals.”

You stopped thrashing and stared at it for a good moment. On the ad was 3 imps and a Hell Hound. The 2 lowest creatures in Hell. What could they even do?

That thought didn’t cross your mind. You just wanted the person dead.

You changed back forms and disappeared into thin air.

Suddenly, you appeared in front of the building you assumed to be the I.M.P building.

You stared at it for a moment.

But your feet started moving for you. You shrunk into your Sinner-like form and opened the door.

“Hello? Who is in charge here?” Your voice resonated through the building. The Hell Hound from the ad didn’t bother to look up at you.

“Who do you want dead?” She said, tapping away at her phone.

You gave her all the details on the person, showed a picture, and told her why. By the end, she was staring at you with wide eyes.

“Let me ask Blitzø.” She responded, walking away from her desk to a door next to it. She shut it and you heard some yelling and stumbling.

The door slammed open to reveal an Imp with large, curved back horns.

“Nice to meet ya! Blitzø, the ‘o’ is silent. You want to kill this little bitch, right?” He asked, showing the piece of paper you gave to Loona.

“Precisely. I want her DEAD IMMEDIATELY. I DONT CARE HOW MUCH I NEED TO PAY SHE NEEDS TO BE DEAD.” As you said the last two words, your body turned larger. You formed half way into your serpentine form.

“Hey Blitzø, what’s the- what the HELL?” A southern voice came from behind you. You shifted back and took a deep breath.

“Hey, Mil! Just in time.” He called, not even acknowledging the fact you almost broke their ceiling.

“Meet our new client! Uh… what’s your name again?” “Leviathan. Call me Reader.”

“This is our new client Reader- LEVIATHAN?” A surge of shock ran through the imps and the Hell Hound.

“We’re working with THE Leviathan?!” A smaller male voice said.

“Yes. How much do you want? 10k? 50k?” They were shocked at the amount of money you were offering them. They were just as shocked when you put 80k down.

“Take it. Kill that bitch.” And you bet your ass they were gonna make SURE she was dead.

As they came back, they brought you her head. You were VERY happy.

You even paid them 10k extra for her head.

You put her head on a stake at the front of your performance center.

Anyways. You always came back to them and paid them VERY well.

You even offered to buy them a new place, which they accepted.

You were basically their sugar parent… you gave them anything they asked for.

The I.M.P became your favorite service to use whenever you become irate with someone. They did an awesome job.

You also learned a lot about them.

Blitzø adopted Loona when she was near 17, Millie and Moxxie are dating, Blitzø is shagging Stolas to get access to the human realm, etc.

You enjoy them and they enjoy you because you pay them so well.

[fredwkong]

Genie: Pete’s Wishes

Pete was a little 20-year-old nerd who had just started interning for a big securities firm. He didn’t top 5’4”, even the extra-small button-up shirts looked baggy on his skinny body, and he seemed even smaller because of his habitual slouching posture. At his first day at work, his new boss yelled at him, causing him to have a panic attack in the bathroom.

That evening, he walked by a thrift store and decided to go in. He wasn’t making much money as an intern, but he wanted to buy something small to cheer himself up. He spotted a traditional brass lamp on the shelf, the kind that genies sometimes come out of. At $20, it was a bit pricey for a thrift store, but Pete grabbed it anyway. It would make a cool conversation piece, if nothing else.

Once he got home, Pete started trying to clean the lamp, which caused it to begin glowing and convulsing until a cloud of smoke billowed out. As the smoke dissipated, it revealed an absolute muscle man of a genie. He wore tiny daisy dukes on his striated thighs, along with a top cropped just above his big, dark nipples. The genie stroked his finely cropped beard as he looked down at Pete.

“So, babe, here’s the deal,” said the genie. “You make the wishes, and I’ll turn them up to eleven.” He looked over Pete’s tiny body and cringing posture again, and curled his lip. “And girl, let’s make those wishes count. We have a lot of work to do here.”

“Um, uh.” The only thing in Pete’s head was the moment earlier that day when his boss had yelled at him. “I… wish I was more assertive?”

The genie smirked. “Good idea.” With a snap of his fingers, the genie filled the room with purple smoke. As Pete inhaled it, he felt like it shot right up into his brain, filling in spaces he hadn’t known were there. He suddenly realised that the way to get ahead in life was to be decisive and commanding. His posture uncurled, and his gaze became sharper. No one was ever going to overlook him or yell at him again.

The smoke also embedded itself in his throat, and he coughed, letting out a much deeper, more resonant sound than he had been capable of before. He now had a thunderous bass voice, a sound that was impossible for anyone to ignore.

Pete met the genie’s eyes for the first time. “Thanks,” he thundered, his new voice incapable of whispering.

The genie gave him an ironic salute. “Come back tomorrow for another wish, babe.”

The next day, no one was able to ignore Pete. He walked with power in spite of his tiny body, and nobody could ignore him when he spoke up to his boss in a meeting in his booming new voice. However, with his tiny stature and ill-fitting suit, they laughed off his advice. When he got home, Pete summoned the genie again, filled with righteous rage.

“Genie,” he roared, “I wish I had the cash to really show up my coworkers.”

“On it, babe,” said the genie, and snapped his fingers. It seemed for an instant as if nothing had changed. Then Pete got a notification on his phone. “You should check that.”

Pete had received an email from someone who said they were his secretary, informing him that his company had closed a deal to trade stocks for a multibillionaire client. Pete was a high-powered stockbroker. As he saw the number of zeroes on his contract, he felt another rush of knowledge into his mind. He knew exactly how to play the market, buying and selling to make sure that he and his clients ended every day with more money than they started with. He wrote a terse reply to his secretary:

“Understood. See you tomorrow. Peters.”

For a moment, he wondered why he had written that name. His name was… Peters, of course. Just like the exclusive boarding school where he’d first started day trading, he still preferred to go by his surname, but kept it casual by dropping any honourific.

“Enjoy those millions, darling,” said the genie, vanishing back into his lamp.

The next day was an exhausting one for Peters. He had the money, he was the boss, and he had an assertive attitude and booming voice, but he was still a shrimpy kid in his early 20s. Clients raised their eyebrows when a short young guy walked into the boardroom to present, and the secretaries, most of whom were older than him, seemed to resent Peters’ success and advantages.

When he summoned the genie, Peters was ready with the wish he had been thinking about all day. “I wish I was truly impressive.”

The genie grinned wide. “Absolutely, master,” he said, and snapped his fingers again. Another thick cloud of purple smoke emerged from the lamp, and this time it cocooned Peters’ entire body. He felt his clothes dissolve, leaving him naked. As he inhaled the smoke, Peters felt years of experience fill his mind. His already deep and assertive voice dropped a few more steps, gaining an imposing rasp.

As the smoke sank into Peters’ skin, he transformed. His black hair went grey, styling itself into a precise, stylish look. His face aged until he looked like a handsome man in his late 40s, with piercing eyes and a stylish grey beard. His whole body filled out as his height shot past 6 feet, bulked up with perfectly maintained muscle. His little cock thickened and lengthened as his pubes lightened to grey, becoming an impressive third leg with churning balls to match. Finally, the last of the smoke coalesced into a scattering of grey hair over his chest, back, and legs, and an immaculate blue suit.

Mr. Peters, the 49-year-old stockbroker, nodded to the genie. “Good work,” he rumbled, testing out the sound of his new, even more thunderous voice.

“Oh, I’m not done yet, master,” the genie purred, and clapped. The hotel room Mr. Peters had moved to with his newfound millions the previous night was immediately replaced with a huge, well-appointed penthouse. Instinctively, Mr. Peters moved to the humidor he kept next to the genie’s lamp. He expertly trimmed and lit a cigar, enjoying the luxurious flavour.

The genie looked him and the penthouse over one more time, and nodded. “See you tomorrow, sir,” he cooed, and blew a kiss to Mr. Peters as he vanished.

The next day, Mr. Peters was on fire. He closed several deals for his company, making himself and his clients even more money, and got taken out for dinner by the director of a competing corporation attempting to headhunt him. The power got him hard, and he was pent-up with a raging boner by the time he got home to make his wish.

“I don’t have time for any dating,” he told the genie brusquely. “I wish for a husband to fuck right now.”

“Order up,” the genie said, laughing, and snapped his fingers.

On the street outside, Larsen was looking for his friend Pete. They had been good school friends, both being little nerds, but Pete had suddenly stopped answering his messages a few days ago, and then seemed to have been scrubbed from existence. No one else remembered him, and people kept mentioning someone named Mr. Peters instead!

Just as Larsen was about to ask one of the building’s valet parking attendants if she knew a Pete living at this address, he felt a tug, as if someone had grabbed him around his belly, and he was suddenly in a dimly lit room. Outside the window was an exquisite view of the city, while inside of the room was a stern-looking man in a suit alongside a dark-skinned man dressed like a slutty himbo.

As the genie continued his work, Larsen became surrounded by a cloud of pink smoke. His muscles grew, his skin became porcelain smooth, and everything about him became classically handsome, like a perfect statue of a man. He grew to a respectable height, still shorter than Mr. Peters, and his dick swelled up, but not quite as large either. Instead, his ass grew into a pair of fuckable, jiggly globes that would be visible no matter what he wore.

The last of the pink smoke shot up Larsen’s nose and into his brain, rewiring him into a dumb himbo slut. Lars had been a German model until Mr. Peters had approached him after a show and offered to give him a luxurious life as his arm candy husband. They had a good enough relationship, and Mr. Peters—Sir—was a good, dominant Daddy, which Lars liked. What made their marriage really special, though, was that while Sir was at work, Lars went and picked up boys for the two of them to share. It was the only way he could get enough fucking during the day to keep up with his unbelievable sex drive.

“Guten Abend, Daddy,” Lars said, as the genie released him. “The boys are waiting in the second bedroom for us.” He stepped up in front of Mr. Peters and undid his tie and top button before Mr. Peters grabbed him by the back of his head and kissed him forcefully. A moment later, Lars led Mr. Peters out of the room and to the designated sex den, his bared dick leading the way.

The genie watched them leave. If he stayed any longer, the former Pete was likely to ask for something boring and unsexy like world domination, so it was probably time for him to put his lamp in the gym bag of one of the horny himbos Lars and Mr. Peters were fucking.

Idea with assistance from a bot of my creation.

Click here to see the genie’s next master.

Click here to see all the genie’s adventures.

[smallpeniscollective]

A small smutty Raphael x reader blurb bc I couldn’t get the concept out of my head of Raphael flipping his SHIT when he shows up at his house of hope and haarlep is YOU and is making raphael supes jelly bc you were a VIRGIN and haarlep got to be your first

content: pov/2nd person, afab body parts, she/her pronouns (but used they/them for Haarlep in your form), devil sex, a smidge of masterbation&voyeurism, p-in-v

(if u like this, please feel so free to make requests, i cannot get enough of this mean old man)

*~*~*

“Your little mouse was quite the experience,” your voice oozed from Haarlep’s lips a sultry tone.

Raphael was seething, teeth bared and skin burning hotter than the Nine Hells. He had been lied to, stolen from, and the worst part of this: his little mouse had betrayed him so deeply, when he had been nothing but forthright and even gentlemanly.

Before he could spit out any animosities at the demon, Haarlep—you—continued, “She had the most delectably frightened look on her face… Most would jump at the chance to engage in such primal desires with an incubus, but her hesitancy revealed something much more… delicious…”

Raphael paused. Hesitancy to have otherworldly sex with a creature whose sole purpose is to arouse and seduce? You carried yourself so confidently, so brazenly, he never considered the fact that you might be—

“Did you know your little obsession was a virgin, Raphael?”

His blood hit its boiling point. He lunged at the incubus in his bed, grabbing Haarlep by the throat tightly. “You insolent swine!”

Haarlep continued to torment Raphael through strained wheezes, “Whatever could be the matter, master? You don’t want to hear about how timidly she removed her garments? You don’t want to know about how devastatingly wet she was to sully her virtue with an incubus who looked like you? She practically called out your name, Raphael.”

He almost threw Haarlep across the room, but when your form started to turn red in the face from the squeeze on your throat, he relented, dropping Haarlep onto the bed with disregard. Calming his face and containing the rage that boiled beneath the surface, he hissed out, “I should incinerate you where you stand.”

“But you won’t, will you, master? Not when I look so deliciously sweet like this,” Haarlep mused, running delicate fingers down the side of your naked frame. “She reeked so sweetly of innocence,” they purred, reaching your hand down between your thighs. They mimicked your wide, frightened eyes and flustered cheeks, mouth agape with pleasure never before experienced.

Raphael allowed himself to watch, to feast on Harleep’s false naïveté atop his silken sheets. Haarlep slid your other hand up towards your breast, kneading gently on the soft mound before swiping a thumb over your nipple, gasping softly. When your fingers became visibly slick from sliding between your folds, Raphael quickly grew agitated and impatient.

He caught fire and suddenly morphed into his natural form, wings splayed out in a menacing display.

“Oh, she quite enjoyed your devilish form, master,” your voice teased, whimpering pathetically when they slipped two of your small fingers inside of you.

Riled up, pissed off, and undeniably aroused, Raphael snapped his clawed fingers. His clothes were gone in an instant, and his raging erection was freed from the constraints of his breeches.

Haarlep played the part of a virgin, eyeing the ridged member with falsely scared eyes, but the excited glint gave away their acting. “Gods, your cock is ginormous!” your voice squeaked, “How will you ever fit that inside of me?”

“Haarlep, your acting is subpar,” Raphael said with an annoyed tone and an arched brow, “but do keep the innocent face, I find it quite entertaining.”

He approached the bed, crawling over your smaller frame to meet your eyes. He grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer finger, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip. So soft and supple, so disgustingly human that it irked him knowing he couldn’t help his little obsession with you.

Haarlep opened their jaw wider to catch his thumb in their mouth, swirling around the pad of Raphael’s thumb with a deft tongue. He could just imagine that tongue swirling around his cock, not that you’d know to do that uninstructed.

The thought of teaching you how to thoroughly pleasure him in all sorts of ways sent a shiver up his spine, and a small bead of precum leaked from his tip in response.

He let go of your—Haarlep’s—face and gave the incubus a rough push on the shoulder, signaling them to lie back. Haarlep, ever so obedient to his master’s whims, laid back onto the crimson bedsheets happily, dipping their arms underneath your head to splay your hair all around your head.

He kept an arm up by your head to hold himself up, looming over you in an all encompassing way and deeply possessive way. His other hand reached for his aching cock, giving it a quick swipe along your drenched slit to gather slick before pushing in and resting his hand on your hip.

Even through Haarlep, your inexperience showed through the vice-like grip your cunt had on him, and his hold on your hip tightened, his claws digging into the plump flesh. Knowing you’d be feeling this, shortly after your only time ever experiencing any sex at all, had him wanting to absolutely ravage the incubus before him. If he couldn’t be your first, he’d make sure he was the only one your little virtuous mind could think about.

He began to pump slowly, only pushing in halfway and taking his time to make sure you could feel every ridge and bump along your inner walls. Haarlep keened at the teasing, mimicking your pained whimpers and quiet moans.

“Doesn’t she have just the tightest squeeze you’ve ever felt?” Haarlep cooed, your moans coming through his words.

Even in the throes of passion, Raphael’s obsession seeped into every corner of his mind, overtaking his pleasure with jealousy. His hand moved from your hip to your jaw, roughly encapsulating it in his clawed grip. “I don’t want to hear another word from you, Haarlep.”

He pushed in hard, burying himself to the hilt and feeling you clench down on him. He began to thrust faster, rutting himself into you harder and harder.

Haarlep’s overexaggerations of your moans had him closing his eyes, letting himself imagine his real little mouse and the probable softer moans you were muffling in the dead of night as you were surrounded by others in their tents only mere feet away. He punished your betrayal through his relentless pounding, abusing your clenching and quivering cunt with this massive intrusion.

Haarlep noticed Raphael's closed eyes, so strange considering they were usually wide open to absorb the full image of his pleasure. Haarlep couldn't help but tease, "Eyes closed, master? Don't tell me you're thinking of that little thief when you've got her body right here before you."

"Quiet," he ordered harshly through gritted teeth as he thrusted. The image of you sweating and writhing on your bedroll as you felt a phantom cock pound into you had him nearing his end. "Touch yourself," he barked, seeking the feeling of your orgasm around his cock.

Haarlep obeyed, sneaking your hand down your body to reach your most sensitive spot, rubbing your clit in generous circles. Your moans through Haarlep rang louder and higher in pitch.

Raphael groaned when he felt your inner walls react, tightening around him. He shifted his position, dipping his hands beneath your knees to lift your legs higher towards your chest, burying himself impossibly deeper in you. His thrusts became aggressive snaps against your hips, the sound of wet skin slapping skin echoed in the room along with the sounds of your crying moans and whimpers.

Haarlep's expert touch and Raphael's ravaging had caused the thread to finally snap, and your body shook as your walls squeezed his cock in a grip so tight it nearly forced his cock out. Haarlep squealed their master's name as they came, "Gods, Raphael!"

It was your voice singing his name in his ears and the image of you helplessly coming around nothing but the idea of him that pushed him over the edge. He grunted through the last of his thrusts, your grip milking the seed out of his weeping cock.

He pulled out of Haarlep, watching his seed drip out of your hole before he let your knees go. His chest heaved with the passion he just experienced. He got up from the bed, regarding Haarlep still on the bed coldly. "Do not think you have any upper hand on me because of this. You are dismissed."

Haarlep slinked off the bed, landing on the floor quietly. With a knowing smirk, they mused, “Just think of it as a gift from your favorite little virgin," before disappearing in a small spark of flames.

[marvelobsessed134]

Hi you ❤️ i hope it's ok to send in a request. i thought of something where the reader is working at the Avengers Compound and trains new agents, but one of them grows fond of her and like creeps up on her or follows her around all the time. Soon Bucky noticed that and decides to help. As the guy then again waits up on you and gets too close for Bucky's liking, he steps in between and kisses you passionately, making the creep leave and takes you by surprise but you continue to kiss him which continues in his bedroom and later you both finally share your feelings for each other? 🥰🙊 Hope this is okay with You.

Be my lover

How Bucky looks when someone is harassing you ⬆️

Also no smut in this I’m sorry I just thought I’d make it hurt comfort 😭

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Avenger!Reader

Warnings: creepy guy, harassment, protective!bucky, hurt comfort

Ever since the new SHIELD recruits came in, things have been going south. Now most of them are very wonderful but one in particular has been bothering you. He’d been practically obsessed with you when he first saw you. Making inappropriate comments about how your suit fits or following you around the compound trying to have a conversation you clearly want no part in.

You tried to send the hint that you weren’t interested in whatever game he was playing but he was dense. And while yes, you can just tell him no, but what would he do with that? He could easily catch you off guard and hurt you. Even though you’re an Avenger you still have your weaknesses.

Bucky noticed right away something was off about you, and so he went to ask you if everything was okay when he saw the recruit trailing behind you down the hall. The soldier clenched his fists when he saw how uncomfortable you were. So he stalked towards the two of you, rage and protectiveness filling his senses.

“Hey,” he said trying to sound calm-it didn’t work-you smiled in relief when you weren’t alone anymore.

“Oh hey, you’re the Winter Soldier!” The recruit said. Bucky clenched his teeth. He absolutely hated that name. It brought back the worst memories and nightmares. Everyone knew he was the White Wolf now-the name the Wakandians gave him-everyone except the new recruit apparently.

“First of all, don’t ever call me that again unless you want to be six feet under. Second of all, don’t ever talk to, harass, or follow Y/n unless you wanna be in the depths of hell.” His voice was low and threatening and the recruit knew he didn’t stand a chance against a 6’5 super soldier. He nervously backed off until he ran down the hall.

You sighed in relief, running into Buckys arms which shocked him, but he cradled your smaller form against his, “Thank you, Bucky.”

“Of course, doll. Can’t have a weirdo following you around all day. I’ll get Steve to fire him so you won’t have to see him anymore.” You looked up at him with wide eyes, “You’d do that? Why?”

“Because I…” he almost couldn’t get the words out. Now or never, he thought to himself. “I love you, Y/n. Ever since you joined the team a year ago I’ve had my eyes set on you. I was afraid you wouldn’t want me because of who I am. What I’ve done.”

Your hand went up to touch the side of his face, “Bucky, your past doesn’t define you. You are a wonderful human being with a heart of gold. Don’t ever think of yourself like that again.”

The brunette smiled softly, “So, um. You can reject me now, it’s okay.”

You waited a moment, searching his for something you couldn’t quite put your finger on before getting on your top toes and pressing your lips to his. He was shocked at first but kissed you back, his arms wrapping tighter around you.

You pulled away with a smirk, “Does that answer your question?”

[bumblebee-is-best-boi]

BLITZBEE WEEK DAY FIVE: SCARS

hoooo boy! This one is my fav. Originally it was just a Blitzwing story but I made it have Blitzbee for the purpose of this week.

I EVEN GAVE IT A TITLE

hehe

@blitzbee-week Day Five: Scars

title coming up soon vvv

Digits In Between The Wings

Characters: Blitzwing, Bumblebee, Astrotrain

Warning: Cybertronian cursing, mentions of throwing up, too much fluff and angst :)

story under the cut vvv

When Blitzwing used to be a seeker, he liked to polish himself. Not to the extent of Knockout, of course (no one obsessed over their polisher like Knockout), but enough to make his frame glimmer in the slightest bit. He had the perfect frame to show his glimmer off, but that wasn’t the main reason he polished himself. It wasn’t even about the polish at all! 

It was more about the machine he used.

The one he used, while it was a bit smaller than usual polishers, it used to fit perfectly in the space between his wings. It pressed against the joints of his wing bases in a way that wasn’t too much pressure to hurt or damage them, but enough to stimulate some pleasant feelings. 

Blitzwing used to attach his polisher to a long handle and just slip it between his wings once in a while, keeping it there for several minutes before moving on with his polishing. 

But when he was turned into a Triple Changer, that all changed. 

Blitzwing’s polisher had become too small to be nice between his wings, but it didn’t matter, since he wasn’t even comfortable using the polisher anymore. The idea of it gliding across his frame, one that had changed drastically for him, just made him a little bit sick in his tanks. Every time it glided over his scars, it made him wince in uncomfortableness, since his scars revealed his sensitive metal plates. Also, the experiment must have fragged something up between Blitzwing’s wings, because he felt as if something defective there was aching with everything he did, and touching it caused him lots of pain.

That didn’t mean Blitzwing didn’t at least try.

He tried many times, but he just couldn’t handle the feeling. And then after one wonky attempt, he broke his polisher into pieces in a fit of rage (or was it actually distress? He couldn’t really tell anymore).

After becoming a Triple Changer, his frame, which once had a slight glimmer, had become dull and matte. Blitzwing stopped taking care of his frame, sometimes to the point where Astrotrain had to force him to take care of himself for a while to prevent rust and cracked plates. Astrotrain might have been way taller than him, but he was also a bot who was very gentle with his movements (if he wanted to, most of the time he liked to be overly erratic). His fingers were nimble, originally to handle to spin his blasters and shoot out multiple rounds in quick succession, but also to handle the tools needed to keep a mech functioning. But no matter how much Astrotrain tried to take care of Blitzwing to make sure his unwillingness to do self care didn’t make him go offline, his frame glimmer was lost.

___

“For Primus’s sake Blitzwing, you should take care of yourself more often!” Astrotrain yelled in exasperation as he pushed one of Blitzwing’s arm plates open to scrape off dried energon build up from a damaged energon line, “Be lucky that this energon line wasn't so major, or you would have been bleeding out for hours on end. And also be lucky that I saw the bleeding before it got any worse!”

Astrotrain finally scraped it off, started patching the energon line, then switched faces and chuckled. “Heh, but I know you're not going to listen to me. It's just typical of you to do whatever you want without any thoughts of the consequences! Typical Blitzwing! All cuckoo and carefree!” 

Astrotrain kept snickering as he closed Blitzwing’s arm plate and stood up, “I know for sure that no matter what I say, we’re going to be right back here again, fixing some new problem!” 

Blitzwing switched faces and fumed, “Oh shut your mouth, slagger!”

“Ok ok, I will, for now. But you cannot shut the fact that my words speak the truth.” Astrotrain turned to walk away, his footsteps thundering, “Oh and by the way, Megatron wants us in the meeting room in ten minutes. I suggest you hurry and don't damage any more of yourself on the way, you know how much Megatron wants his Decepticons in top condition!”

Blitzwing opened his mouth to yell at Astrotrain, but he stopped and closed his mouth again, switching faces and standing up. He looked at his arm, where Astrotrain had fixed his energon line. Astrotrain’s words echoed through his processor multiple times, no matter how annoying it got. Blitzwing wanted to just laugh it off, to think of it as a silly joke, but he couldn't. It wasn't a silly joke. It was the truth.

No matter how much Blitzwing wanted to deny it, it was the truth. The cold hard truth.

____

Refueling wasn't a big problem for Blitzwing… sometimes. Sometimes he got himself enough to last a while, sometimes he had only enough to run on half a tank. It was quite hard to adjust to a frame that demanded more energon to function, but he made it work eventually (He didn’t). And then there was the purging that happened once in a while during the night… but he didnt like to talk about that.

But what was most annoying about his frame upgrade was the pain that came with it. Not even the idea of three faces annoyed him that much (even though the face switching did hurt at one point). His knees were constantly hurting, due to the weird build of his legs, and he kept breaking his knee braces by tearing them up and destroying them whenever he felt like it. For days on end, his tanks constantly felt sore, no matter if his tank was full or empty or whatever in between. And what was the worst thing was the dull ache in the joints of his wings, and the constant prickling pain down his back in between his wings.

He once wanted to paint over his scars, but every time he thought of it, he always got sidetracked to thinking about painting himself in many different colors wilder than any Decepticon had ever seen before. Despite that sounding like a cool idea, Blitzwing always countered those thoughts because he didn’t want to look stupid or get in trouble with Megatron. Instead, he decided to see how others reacted if someone else was painted in wild colors.

This led to him going to the seeker trine’s room with buckets of paint and painting all sorts of crazy things on them (originally he wanted to just paint Starscream, but seeing them in the seeker pile made him all too happy to paint all three of them). Blitzwing then waited till the next day to see what would happen… It was lots of humiliation and getting punished by Megatron pretty badly. This scared Blitzwing to his very spark, to the point where he felt guilty about it (but no way he would ever admit it was his fault).

Only Astrotrain knows what truly happened on that day.

At that point, Blitzwing had completely given up on trying to fix himself, trying to take care of himself, caring for a frame that he once cherished. No use in caring for a frame that had been warped beyond his own recognition and repair.

_____

“Blitzwing.” Astrotrain spoke, trying to get Blitzwing’s attention. 

No response.

“Blitzwing.” Astrotrain hissed, “You glitch, I know you can hear me,” He looked down at the ground, “Stop ignoring me please.”

Blitzwing eventually raised his head, “What is it.”

Astrotrain looked into Blitzwing’s optics, “There’s only one energon cube left for today.”

Blitzwing’s optic twitched, and he switched faces, “That’s what you bothered me for?!”

Astrotrain switched faces, “Oh EXCUSE me for trying to help my DEAR Amica! Oh what an aft am I!”

“Slag off!”

Astrotrain switched faces, “Do you want the fragging energon cube or not?”

Blitzwing switched faces, “You can have it.”

Astrotrain reached for the energon cube, then stopped.

“You refueled yourself at least more than halfway today, right?”

Blitzwing’s optic twitched, then he switched faces, “Ah yes! I had quite the feast today! Oh such a nice servo salad it was! Aha!”

Astrotrain grimaced for a slight moment before grabbing the cube, “the idea of you eating other Cybertronians still unnerves me heavily… but at least it’s better than nothing. ”

Blitzwing switched faces again and looked at the ground as Astrotrain chugged the energon cube. He felt bad for lying, but also not sorry for it at the same time. No matter whatever Astrotrain felt through the Amica bond.

Speaking of the Amica bond, Blitzwing rarely made use of the emotion sensing ability that the bond had. He had too much going on in his head to go poking around in Astrotrain’s emotions.

But this time, Blitzwing used the bond. He used the bond to try and poke into Astrotrain’s emotions, but gave up when he felt the mess of emotions in there. He didn’t care enough to go in there and try to see what is what.

He just didn’t care.

_____

But then he met Bumblebee. That little yellow Autobot who kind of slightly annoyed him to no end and was the love of his life at the same time. The one who treated every single one of Blitzwing’s faces with love and care, even when he was being a bit of a glitch.

Every time that they met up, Bumblebee would bring something to cheer Blitzwing up, whether it was a few cubes of energon, some cans of oil, a servo (Bumblebee never said where he got it from, to Blitzwing’s disappointment, since it was one of the best servos he ever had), or even his own polisher! 

But the best thing was how Bumblebee tried his best to handle Blitzwing’s pain. He couldn’t do anything about Blitzwing’s knee pain, other than at least try to tell Blitzwing to stop destroying his knee braces. Bumblebee would bring his hands over Blitzwing’s numerous scars, massaging them the best he could (he stopped if Blitzwing was in too much pain though). He would even move his fingers over the space between Blitzwing’s wings, putting his digits between the wings and massaging the wing base joints, soothing the discomfort in them.

It was the best thing Blitzwing had felt in centuries.

____

Holding the energon cube in his hands, Blitzwing looked down at it with a solemn look on his face. Why did his love offer this to him? He gingerly cupped the cube, afraid to spill a drop and disappoint his little sweetspark. 

“Why aren't you drinking your energon Blitz? Worried that it’ll run away?” Bumblebee chugged his cube of energon and tilted his head at Blitzwing.

A sigh came out of Blitzwing’s mouth. He just couldn’t tell Bumblebee the truth… he couldn’t! 

“Why aren’t you drinking your energon, Blitzwing?” Bumblebee’s antennae drooped in sadness.

Oh god, the sight of Bumblebee being sad hurt Blitzwing to the deepest depths of his spark. He needed to find a way to mitigate the situation before it got worse!

The slight ache in his tanks gave him a great idea.

“Ach… I have a slight tank ache. I don't really feel like refueling right now…” Blitzwing spoke, hoping that everything would stop at that moment.

But when Bumblebee immediately turned his head around to look at him, he was greatly surprised. He didn't expect that Bumblebee would become so attentive to him.

“Alright buddy, lie down.” Bumblebee commanded Blitzwing, “I wanna try something”

Blitzwing was confused, but he laid down anyway. Luckily the ground was soft-ish, or else he would have been very uncomfortable. And so he waited for something to happen

He waited…

And he waited…

And he waited some more…

Until suddenly, he felt a weight on his tanks. Blitzwing immediately looked up and saw that Bumblebee had plopped himself on top of his tanks. He kept staring, even when Bumblebee looked up to meet his gaze. 

“Hey, you’re a big mech, I have to change how I do things here!” Bumblebee pouted.

Blitzwing watched Bumblebee, then switched faces and laughed, “Wow, you’re heavier than I thought!”

He received a slight kick to the tank.

“Not funny.” Bumblebee frowned.

Blitzwing winced, switched faces, and sighed, “Apologies.”

“Good. Now let me do this, and I promise that your tank aches and pains will alleviate soon!” Bumblebee positioned himself and reached out with his hand. 

The hand settled low on Blitzwing’s hips before going up and stopping just underneath his chassis. This was repeated 10 times. Then some semi circle motions across his abdomen, also repeated ten times. There then came some soft massages and kneading, which calmed Blitzwing down.

But when Bumblebee did the little vibrations with his hands, this surprised Blitzwing a little bit.

And then Bee was finished.

“Wow,” Blitzwing gasped, “That was… wow.”

Bumblebee smiled, “I get tank aches too, so Ratchet taught me this to alleviate the pain.”

“Could… you teach how to do that?” Blitzwing asked.

Bumblebee smirked mischievously, “Only if you drink the energon cube. You need it.”

Blitzwing sighed, then drank the cube. It actually felt nice…

It seemed that what Bumblebee did worked really really well.

____

After a while, it seemed as if the treatment Blitzwing got by being Bumblebee’s sweetspark started affecting him in a good way. His frame felt so much more comfortable to him now, his aches between the wings had stopped, his scars were less sensitive, and he purged much less. Face switching was less of a chore to him now, more being more flowy instead of jerky and sudden. He even used what Bumblebee taught him to alleviate tank ache.

Astrotrain, as observant as he was, was bound to notice something.

____

“Damn Blitzwing, youve having more energon right now than ive seen you have in an entire week!” Astrotrain laughed, slapping Blitzwing on the back.

Blitzwing’s wings twitched from the slap, his face switched, and he scowled. Finishing his energon cube, he turned towards Astrotrain.

“So I guess Swindle sold you some good sense or something?”

“No you dumbaft, Swindle hasn’t even been here in a while. And any transactions I do or will do will be face to face with him, cause I don’t trust him entirely.”

“Ah, ah.” Astrotrain smirked as he kneeled down, “Then tell me what’s gotten you to act so different? It’s definitely not from you following my advice, that’s for sure.” Another laugh from Astrotrain ensued.

Blitzwing fumed for a bit, then switched faces, “it’s… the little Autobot.”

Astrotrain paused for a moment, then switched faces, “What did the Autobot do.”

Blitzwing reminded himself that Astrotrain was not entirely trusting of Bumblebee, so he had to choose his words carefully if he didn’t want to accidentally screw everything up.

“He… gives me energon every time we meet…” Blitzwing switched faces “He treats me like a queen! His beautiful big queen!” 

Astrotrain froze, not expecting to hear that. Switching faces, he brought himself closer to Blitzwing, eyeing him curiously.

“So you’re saying that this… tiny little Autobot… has been helping you with your problems?”

Blitzwing nodded vigorously.

Astrotrain suddenly switched faces, “Well FINALLY! Finally someone got some sense into your processor!” Laughing, he patted Blitzwing on the shoulder, “And, please keep this up. It’s healthier for you, and there’ll be more for your little Autobot to love!”

Blitzwing switched faces, blushing in embarrassment, but nodded anyway.

After a while of snickering, Astrotrain switched faces, “But I must not get sidetracked, since there is something I have to say: Megatron has commanded that we go do an energon raid in about three hours. We actually have to be out of the base in one and a half hours,” Astrotrain said with a bit of bitterness in his voice, before softening his tone, “So have another cube and we can go, okay?”

Blitzwing nodded his head and drank his energon cube, “Alright.”

____

Even though he knew that his scars would never heal, Blitzwing knew that Bumblebee would be there for him, no matter what.

And that was more than enough for him.

[msfcatlover]

Nightwing!Damian would still be of the Corruption, though he has so many healthy relationships in his life that its influence on him is slipping. His swarm is smaller now than it’s ever been. His power fades day by day. He might even manage to be human again someday (he doesn’t know how he feels about that, when his swarm are so beloved & his monster side has always been a source of pride for Damian.)

Tim was always going to be of the Eye, being Oracle only doubles down on it.

Cass in the TMA AU is basically Agnes Montague, but for the Stranger. That wouldn’t change either.

Steph was only just starting out when Damian took her under his wing. She never fully got caught in the spiraling fixation on destroying her father by any means necessary, she couldn’t pursue one goal to the exclusion of all others, and as the first fully human (non-Alfred) member of the team, everyone would be doing their best to protect that humanity, monitoring her for any sign of supernatural influence and guiding her away before it could get its hooks in her (they are still Bruce’s children, after all.) Until she came out of the dirt, unsheltered & unprotected, already marked so many times over, with fear & rage boiling in her blood. Until Talia gave Steph her mind back, gave Steph a purpose again, and the rage boiled over plasmatic hate. Until Steph laughed like a roaring maelstrom, sparks crackling in her wild hair, something bordering on madness in her eyes, and Talia thought: Oh. I have made a mistake. (The storm would be leashed, eventually. Steph does have self control, she has goals to achieve, plans to make, and power alone could not do that. But in that moment, when Steph realized her killer was still killing people despite everything that had happened, in her pain & fury, she gave in. She stepped backwards off that invisible ledge and plunged headfirst into what she knew she was Becoming. She embraced it, wholeheartedly. In that moment, it almost wasn’t Stephanie Brown in that garden, but the Cataclysm itself inside her skin. Almost.)

Duke… I’m still struggling to think of a good match for, but honestly in this AU… His ability to connect, to make people listen to him, his desire to step up & save the city himself if he has to, and the fact Duke is the eldest/first batkid in this AU (giving him & Bruce even more in common when Batman had only ever fought alone) all make me want to say Web. BUT with his powers, his ability to lead a crowd, the sheer scale of his potential, I also want to say Vast? What little I know of Gnomon also says Vast, ALTHOUGH…. …we could play off their shadow control, invert Duke’s light powers for this AU, and say Dark. Which would make Duke borderline antithetical to Web!Bruce, but hey, maybe Web!Bruce wants to prove to himself just how much choice he still has—that the Web can make him as uncomfortable as it likes, but he’s still going to take care of a child in need. (Assuming he is going against the Web’s wishes, of course, and it isn’t reverse psychologying him…) (My gut says Web!Duke, though. The more I think about it, the more I like Web!Duke conceptually… but I am worried that it doesn’t fit him. That Duke’s all-or-nothing “if no one else is going to, I’ll do it myself” attitude & raw charisma is not close enough to the Web’s need for control. I don’t like it when people just assign characters an Entity for the Aesthetic(TM) or for shallow, surface-level reasons—it has to resonate with their own personal failings, or else what’s even the point?)

Jason was human when he joined the family, and they’d want to keep him that way… but I think by the time he gets back from the Red Robin arc, Jason would’ve been claimed by the Hunt.

Dick gets scooped up by the family almost immediately in this AU, and Cass does her best to temper in his early-days bloodlust. With Cass as his Batman, I think Dick would be tempted by the Vast, but ultimately chase after her by embracing his own Otherness. (Or Dick was already a Stranger when his parents fell. But honestly, I like the arc of Dick learning to love himself & following in his mentor’s footsteps so much more than making him a Stranger because Circus.)

[era-the-witchy-birdkid]

DP X DC Prompt/Idea

Long time writer for the DC fandom (mostly Batman specifically Tim Drake joins the batfam early AUs and Titans Tower AU) on Archive, Danny Fenton also known as Astroboy2025, decides three days after his ‘Accident’ to create a Jason wakes up a Halfa in his coffin fic. He only does this to help himself process his emotions after well lets be honest his death and revival. And later once the ghost attacks pick up and he picks up the mantle of a hero as a way to covertly get advice/figure out on how to fight ghosts better by transplanting all his ghosts into Gotham for Fic!Jason to fight.

Danny wasn’t expecting much to come from this, he wasn’t expecting the fic to blow up in popularity for ‘creative storylines’ and ‘unique original villains with a ghostly flare to go against the ghostly Robin now named Phantom’ it was just a vent fic with a bit of wishful thinking on his part with Ghost!Jason and Bruce's relationship being so close (He ends up writing Jason getting hugs and affirmations that Bruce still loves despite all the ghost stuff that happening now whenever his Parents go on a tirade about how all ghosts are evil and need to be ripped apart molecule by molecule)

He definitely wasn't expecting his fans to find out about the real Phantom and figure out his identity from there. (Blame Penelope Spectra she had a history unlike the others in his rogues gallery with a bloody trail across America of sharply increase Suicide rates in more isolated smaller cites/large towns that was being tracked by Redditers that had hard stopped in Amity park just a few days before he dropped the chapter of Jason facing her himself)

While the Amity Park tourism to see a IRL Hero in action, and the Anti-Ecto acts Riots, as they would later be called, made by DC fans throwing a fit about the threat to the world’s first superhero were the lesser consequence in the grand scheme of things. Finding his fan Discord was a trip and a half especially since Tucker had to hack into it into the first place because his fans we're extremely protective of his secret ID and reinforced the server a crapton to be stronger then most banks.

While Sam was insisting on this being a horrible Idea and he should try to dissuade his thousands of fans from the truth of his Identy. Danny was just chill with it after the brief panic. And the Fan Discord was super helpful for getting Advce with! while the jokes that he was Batman Adoption bait was annoying the group was amazing for ideas on how to train his powers and advice on how to better fight ghosts. the Discord even make a Power list for him so he wouldn’t forget a power because he wasn’t training it. plus the comfort they gave after Circus Gothica was A+ even with the jokes about how the Batfam curse of clown trauma, despite matching the look as a human batman isn’t real so as much as his fans joke about him being the prefect Bat bait that will not happen.

To bad after a particularly nasty ghost hate rant in front of him in ghost form while being shot at by his parents that before the server would spawn 3 chapters of Family fluff in his fic, was whatched angrily by a fan who in a fit of annoyed rage said these words. “I really wish batman WAS real, then maybe you could be safe in your home for once”

unfortunately Desiree was out and about and heard the wish granted she had no idea who Batman was so went to read the DC comics after that. Good news the DC universe is so messed up as is that Desiree decided no twisting was necessary she’d just to bring everything to life. Bad news all the supervillains now exist along side the now existing superheros and Desiree is now Kaiju sized and now way to powerful for Danny to deal with alone... 

At least the now real Batfam are taking their sudden existence well? and are willing to help Danny stop the Mad Genie dispite the risk that they would pop into nonexistence (with the entire city of Gotham and the other cities, villains, and heroes made real by Desiree’s power) if she’s stopped

[yearningaces]

Meet my boy Hallow, the megalodon mershark who is so enamored by you, his ever handsome medic

It was once a human civilization, the elders had said. But as you swam through the old stones that built the colosseum at the top of the trench, you wondered how the two legged could have built something like this if they would have to leave when the waters came.

Your tail flicked down, stopping your movements through the stone archways. A few brightly colored fish passed by before hiding in the kelp grass among the sandy sea floor to your right. It was a fascinating theory the elders had, but they've been wrong before. Even in ways no one ever speaks of.

Such as the means for this place.

"There you are, hurry up. There's work to be done and the elders don't like dilly-dallying." Fetcher swam closer to you from his post. The merfolk's eel tail twitched slightly.

You huffed but swam along, passing the same guard who says the same thing every single day. A few turns down certain corridors in the stone construct and you could smell the metallic scent of blood in the water. Hearing the cheers of so many merfolk raging for blood.

Eat or be eaten, was the colosseum motto. The strongest predators were sent in if they'd committed heinous enough crimes against the elders council. Only the last remaining alive could leave a free mer. Unless they were one to draw a crowd and were framed again and again to be brought back. Sometimes the smallest guppies would even be here... Those were nightmarish rounds to even hear.

As you continued swimming slowly along, you passed by rows of gaps in the stone, triangle in shape that gave you the perfect view of the arena just beyond the stone wall. And it was carnage.

Today it was two orca mers, stout and imposing against an even larger whale mer. And the whale was winning. You ignored the horrific sound of one of the orcas tail being torn off and used to beat the other one's head as you swam along the familiar route.

Eventually you stopped outside of a hatch in the floor made of metal. One of the many guards glanced at you before opening the hatch for you to swim through. Just small enough to fit.

It was closed and locked behind you as you continued down into the dark cell, a familiar massive figure coming into view.

As soon as the guard voices faded, you were close enough to be unnoticed by the rest of the oceans, and at that moment, the massive taloned and webbed hand reached up, pressing against you from behind and gingerly pushing you down further into the colder water, and right into Hallow's embrace.

You relaxed in the megalodon's hold, sighing happily to be here with him again. "We really should see about me being able to visit when it's not before or after your battles." The remark is sincere and you return to the familiar actions of observing what you can of the massive creature made for the shadows. He has a few nicks and tears but nothing much, given the nature of what sort of battles he has no choice but to endure, it's not surprising how viciously adapted he is.

Hallow's voice is a rumble, one you have to focus to understand. His kind are ancient after all, and the few megalodon's left speak in such an old tongue it's difficult to comprehend some times. "Yet a victory ensures our meeting once more. I'd do so for a millennium more to see you return to me again."

His large hands curl around you as best they can given the size difference. Hallow's movements are always gentle with you, even now as he brings you just a bit closer until you're held against him.

"I'd return regardless." The remark is an earnest one, but you have a task at hand, reaching into your satchel and drawing out a few different items. You reach your smaller hand up to the large one holding you in place and wiggle in Hallow's grasp until you're at an angle you can reach the back of his wrist where a deeper tear is. Your steadfast hyperfocus on the task is clear as your hands move with caution and care, cleaning and wrapping the wound in a gentle fabric.

Throughout all of this Hallow's gaze remains on you and you alone. Watching silently as you tend to his wounds with such care, it used to make his heart race, but now he slows, content and most comfortable under your care and attention.

You'd been his charge for many seasons now, originally hardly speaking to him but tending to his wounds after battle, as he was one of the few competitors who the elder council wanted to keep alive to fight again. Eventually you finally spoke, and it only grew from there.

Hallow doesn't quite know what he can refer to you as, but he so dearly adores you. If he weren't confined to this Poseidon forsaken place, he'd be able to court you, earn your attention and affection, prove he's worth your time and care.

But he's stuck here, a prisoner with no crime, and a life of carnage and desolation ahead of him. And you return to help him heal, both his physical wounds and his emotional ones. You let him hold you close, let him nap with you in his grasp, speak so very gently to and with him and he adores you so much for it. Hallow would tear this entire place to ruin if he could, would so carefully guide you into the trench the colosseum sits atop of, where he could hide you away in the cold dark waters where only creatures like him exist. And you would both be safe.

But for now, he'll keep watching you with an endearing expression as your small hands work so carefully to ensure he's not hurting, even if you don't know how you never could hurt him, not in a way he'd mind at least.

And he'll be good, because it means you'll return. He'll tear another fellow mer into a spineless and tailless mush of viscera because he'll be here for your next return.

And for now, it's enough.

[writer1]

Secrets Revealed

Chapter 1

Summary: Rafael seems like a normal human to everyone, humans and Cybertronian alike. But he’s not at all, he’s a sparkling born human, living in an old factory with his mother, Navi Pax. But what happens when his secret is found out? How will Team Prime handle it? And how will Ratchet react finding out he’s a father? Only time will tell.

At the Dawn of time, there were 3 gods. Primus, Unicron and Optima. Primus and Unicron were brothers, forged by the same, yet unknown, creator. Optima came after from a far off world, known for its peace and beauty.

Not long after the three crosses paths, Optima and Primus fell in love, and gave birth to three children. Adaminx, Everia, and Lillium. These children, were very different from their creators. They had no ability to transform, none of the metal that makes up Primus’ and Optima’s bodies… as they were organics, born much smaller and more vulnerable than any before known species has ever been. Most would have been disgusted, yet Optima and Primus loved them with all their spark, and the galaxy was happy, they were happy.

But Unicron grew jealous of their union. How dare his brother steal the one his spark yearned for. He watched as the two had not one child, but two and then a third, and he grew more and more resentful, until his Rage caused him to do something truly horrendous.

Unicron, in a fit of horrendous anger, stabbed Optima, and killed two of the children.

Adaminx, heartbroken by the loss of his siblings, called his father. But when Primus found them… he was too late. Optima lay dying, and in her dying breath she whispered to Primus her last will, before in a glow of light, she became a planet for her last child to live on.

Primus, broken by the loss of so much, made a choice that was not his to make. He took Adaminx’s memories, and gave him a wife so that their children could live on. And then he left, to take care of his brother. He knew that he would return for his last son, so he made sure the planet was well hidden.

The war against Unicron did not last long, as Primus used all of his power to make sure his brother could not hurt anyone, ever again.

When he was done, Primus became his own planet. He created the original 13 primes, and gave them the matrix of leadership. Only the 13 primes would know of Optima’s sacrifice, and the planet she became. And they would watch over Earth when they could.

But, Primus himself made a decision, that would keep the two worlds connected always. Once every several cycles, an organic child would be born. And they would be cherished by the Cybertronian parents they came to, for the child in question was chosen by Primus to bridge their worlds, and maybe someday…. All would be one.

xxx

Raf hums softly as he hops out of Bumblebee at his house. “Thanks for the ride home, Bee. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Bumblebee beeps happily at Raf, telling him he’ll be back tomorrow before heading off.

Once Bumblebee is out of sight, Raf sighs and starts heading to his real home. It’s not too far thankfully, on the very outskirts of Jasper. He feels bad that he can’t tell Bumblebee the truth but… he couldn’t understand.

Raf enters the factory and smiles as he heads to his bed, not far from it a jet is resting. “Hey Mama, I’m home.”

The jet starts transforming, showing a blue and grey Femme with purple eyes. She gives a smile. “My sparkling, how was your day?” She asks as she gently picks him up in her hands.

Raf shines and curls close. “It was good, Mama. I had fun with my friends after school as usual, it was good, how was your day?”

“Mine was good, I found some dark energon. Not much but enough.” Navi hums softly. “Now get your homework done and then I thought we could have Mac and cheese tonight.” She grins.

“Yess!” Raf runs off to do the little bit that’s left of his homework, leaving Navi on her own. She sighs softly, looking at her low levels of energon, why does she have to be a rare Cybertronian and only can eat dark energon.

She goes to sit down, thinking softly of what she can do. She only has enough energon to last a week, possibly two with heavy rationing. They’re so screwed.

Navi looks over at Rafael who’s sitting at the table, and smiles. She’ll survive, she has to for her sparkling. Her amazing sparkling.

[zipzapzopzoop]

There's a Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow

Chapter 28: The Boss

A mug flew across the room and shattered against the wall, leaving a mark upon impact and sending scalding hot coffee all into the carpet.

“How did this happen?!” The Boss roared.

The large screen on the wall displayed a news story about a catastrophic car accident and an old car that had gone flying into the canal. When officers and firefighters arrived in the early hours of the morning, there was nobody in the car. On the same street, another car had smashed into a median, killing both the driver and the passenger inside.

“They should not have been able to escape! They were blocked in!” He bellowed, gesturing furiously at the screen.

The room of employees stayed quiet, faces downcast and hands fiddling with keyboards and mice to appear busy. Nobody had an answer for him.

“What kind of morons do I have working here?! Twice in one night you lost the targets! You had one of them in a goddamn trap for crying out loud! And now we’re under the public eye! Did I not tell you to keep this quiet?! Now the damn world is watching!” 

A chair was thrown across the room in a fit of rage.

One employee wore a back brace and sported a broken wrist. His colleague was in critical condition for a cracked skull. He muttered something under his breath.

“What did you say?” The Boss marched up and snatched the injured employee by the front of his suit. He yanked him closer until they were nose to nose, ignoring when the other winced in pain from his healing back.

“I… I said that I didn’t sign up for this,” he stuttered quietly. He had to stand on the tips of his shoes just to reach the bigger man’s face. “I didn’t come here to have my back broken and for what? Scraps?” His voice gained a bit more courage as he spoke. “If I’m going through this shit, I want to be paid decent money.”

The Boss paused. “Like I already told you…” He spoke in an eerily calm voice. “We don’t have the necessary funds to pay everyone right now… If we don’t get these targets, we go bankrupt… Is that what you want?!” He roared. 

“A group of time bending humans fall right in our laps overnight! Strong, intelligent, resilient human beings! And we have the chance to get ahold of them before anybody else in the entire world! We have the chance to figure out what the future is made of and get ahead of the game! We could build the future before anyone else! What the hell do you think we do this for?!”

When the employee was dropped, his back gave out and he crumbled the rest of the way to the floor.

“If we lose those targets, we lose millions! They are the key to the future!” The Boss grabbed a computer off the desk and approached the injured employee, raising the computer over his head as if to slam it down on him.

“If we lose them, we lose the future!”

“Sir!”

He froze, computer in the air, and turned to the source of the voice. A smaller businesswoman stood over her computer. “We got something!”

He shot the frightened worker one last dark scowl before glancing around the room. Every employee took this as their cue and quickly went back to work, not wanting to be the next one sent to the medical ward or have a computer smashed down on their head.

The Boss adjusted his tie and dusted himself off as he made his way to the businesswoman.

He leaned in and squinted to the dot she pointed to on the radar. “We have another chance. Something’s just entered the city…”

------

The car just crossed over the county line and into the city. It was a tight fit getting everyone in the family car, but they managed. 

They still had this car in the future. It was old but very well kept. Bud and Lucille still went for drives every Sunday afternoon, so the last thing Franny wanted to do was damage it. 

After Lewis and Franny left, it was a mad rush to follow them and track down Carl.

“Looks like I am officially no longer the only Robinson to steal a vehicle,” Wilbur grinned.

“Oh, honey, you never were,” Franny teased and tapped on the breaks, causing Wilbur to lightly bump into the seat in front of him.

“Y’all are cute,” Petunia chimed in from the front seat.

They followed the pizza car for a few minutes, but at some point they fell behind. “Shoot…” Franny muttered to herself. “Anyone see them?”

Wilbur shook his head. The buildings here all looked the same! How could anyone find their way around if they couldn’t see where they were going from above? He didn’t get it. God, this place was depressing.

“Wait, didn’t Franny say something about a school?” Fritz asked. Adult Franny’s face lit up. “That’s right! Lewis and I went to the same school! Hang on!”

She sped up and began to weave around traffic.

------

The woman’s pointer finger followed the blip. “It’s speeding up…”

The Boss stood up abruptly. “Well what are we waiting for? We need men dispatched there now! Follow it!”

The woman contacted agents while the Boss continued to follow the blip. It took a sharp turn and began to cut down another road. How fast was this thing going?

“It’s approaching the baseball field!”

------

“Do you think we should slow down a bit?” Fritz asked over the car’s engine.

“We’re almost there!” Franny’s focus didn’t break.

They pulled around the corner just as Lewis and Franny ran into the building. 

“STOP!” Art suddenly cried out. Franny’s stiletto slammed down on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt.

The group stared wide-eyed out the front window.

------

“I need visuals! Contact security footage on that street! Send it to the big screen!”

The moment the security footage was displayed, gasps and hushed whispers of disbelief were heard around the room.

------

“Holy shit…” Wilbur muttered.

The Robinsons watched in horror as Tiny stepped foot on the school baseball field.

------

Check out the chapter on my Archive!

[sillycyan]

「 Daydreamtober 2024 」

I'm using the prompts to write, explain, draw, or just daydream more about the first events or facts that come to me when I see the word. Some things will be longer or higher quality than others, so please bear with me a lil bit. I gotta post lore somehow..

⟻ Day 14 — Injury ⟼ Word Count : 755

Some tension was heavy in the air, vibrating through the walls of the hallway as Reign slammed the door to his room, hoping it would put an end to the constant invasions. No locks on the door will do that to a person. Reign sat on his bed, fuming as the door to his room creaked open for the third time that day. He shot an irritated glare at Khoson, who once again stood in the doorway without knocking, like his personal space didn’t exist.

"What's your problem?" Khoson grunted at him.

"My problem?" Reign finally snapped, jumping up. "Maybe if you didn’t barge into my room whenever you felt like it, I wouldn't have one!"

Khoson rolled his eyes. "You’re being such an asshole."

That was his last straw.

In a small fit of rage, Reign grabbed the nearest object, his alarm clock, and hurled it across the room at Khoson. It barely missed him and clattered against the doorframe.

Khoson glared, grabbing it off the floor, and without thinking, he threw it back. It hit Reign in the chest with a dull thud.

"Ow! What the hell is your problem?" Reign stormed forward, shoving Khoson back. It only took a moment before fists were flying, turning into a full-blown fight.

The door banged open, both boys now pushing each other into the hallway, stumbling dangerously close to the stairs. Reign was smaller, quicker, but Khoson had the upper hand in strength, easily keeping his grip on his younger brother.

Yasmin’s door swung open, half her hair in bright pink curlers, the other half hanging loose. She looked annoyed and tired, still wearing her robe. “What the hell are you two doing? It cant be that serious!” she shouted, clearly frustrated with the noise.

"Maybe if someone respected my space, I wouldn’t be an asshole!" Reign spat, still struggling against Khoson’s hold.

"Just knock it off, you’re acting like—"

"Let me go!" Reign shouted.

Khoson didn’t think twice. He let his grip loosen, almost pushing him.

And that was his mistake.

Reign tumbled down the stairs, its like the world spun for a second before he hit the bottom, his arm crunching awkwardly beneath him. He sat there, facing up the stairs, clutching his arm in pain. His back pressed against the wall, and he didn’t move, shock settling in as the ache spread through him.

The twins went dead silent.

Khoson stared in shock, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn’t meant for that to happen and he almost couldn’t believe it had.

Reign groaned quietly, his face contorted with pain as he clutched his arm. Khoson ran into action, rushing down the stairs and clamping his hand over Reign's mouth before he could make any noise.

"Shh! Don’t!" Khoson hushed him, eyes wide with panic. Their father was asleep just down the hall, and the last thing they needed was for him to wake up.

"Get off him!" Yasmin whisper-shouted, scrambling down after them. She knelt beside Reign, trying to calm him down while Khoson kept his hand pressed against his brother’s mouth.

Reign flinched under his own grip, his eyes burning with anger and pain, but he didn’t scream. Not with their dad so close. Not with Khoson hovering over him with panic in his eyes.

Khoson’s voice was hoarse. "I didn’t mean to. I swear. Just— Just let me figure it out. Yaz, what do we do?"

Yasmin bit her lip. "We could drive him to the hospital."

"No-" Reign muttered through gritted teeth, his face still twisted in pain. "No hospital."

Yasmin gave Khoson a look. "You want Dad to find out? Cause if we take him, he’s going to know. You’ll be screwed for months."

Reign tried to get up, but Khoson grabbed him, pulling him back down. "Stop moving! Your arm—"

"Let go of me!" Reign nearly yelled, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. The pain was nearly unbearable, and as much as he thought he could fight it, he was getting close to breaking down.

Khoson’s face softened, filled with guilt as he knelt beside his brother. "Fuck.. I’m sorry, okay? I really didn’t mean to—"

Before he could finish, the front door creaked open. None of them had heard the car pull up. None of them had expected it. What time was it anyway?

Their mom stepped into the entryway, a grocery bag in her hand, her eyes immediately locking onto the three of them sitting at the bottom of the stairs…

[blairsanne]

Do you have a scene you really liked but weren't able to fit it in a fic? Would you care to share? Do you have a most recent favorite line or scene? What is it?

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer.

Thanks for the ask!

I don't keep a lot of full written scenes that are cut content... usually they get edited and the original is lost.

Most of the cut content I do have is actually for a project I've yet to publish anywhere and would be spoilery for the final story so I can't share it.

That said, I had originally planned to end Lofn in chapter 4, so I have an unfinished version of that chapter from before it was completely replaced with the much longer story that has unfolded so far (and that currently has many half-finished chapters unpublished).

You stepped toward the JPR building a bundle of nerves. You’d sat in the parking lot for five minutes talking yourself into and out of actually going inside until finally settling on doing it after all. You were still pretty sure that this was going to make you seem clingy and weird to Bragi, but not reaching out to him properly was driving you mental. One of the main reasons you’d settled on moving to Auckland was for the opportunity to find him, and now that you had, it seemed like a waste not to at least introduce yourself properly. Oh my god, I am such a fucking stalker.

After he’d comforted you last time, you’d decided a lot of things; to quit your job, to ask his name - but he hadn’t summoned you since then, and you were starting to think he never would. The longer you left it, the weirder it was for you to show up, right? At least that’s what you told yourself as you pushed open the door.

The lobby looked smaller in the daylight, you thought, glancing at the fridge you’d fetched him a beer from before a blonde stood from her desk on your right. “Can I help you?” Dawn asked, smiling at you. “Hi.” You took a deep breath. “I was… hoping to speak with the owner here?” “Anders? Oh, I’m sorry, he’s out running errands at the moment. Can I ask what it’s about?”

You could read a sort of pity in her face, and you realized that it probably looked exactly like what it was; a fling of his trying to get hold of him at work because they couldn’t otherwise.

“Or I could take your contact info, have him ring you back?” she offered. You nodded. “Sure.” You gave your name and phone number, watching as she carefully wrote it on a message pad. “He won’t know who I am from that,” you hedged. “But if you tell him I’m from Lofn, he should know what it’s about.” She raised a brow, but nodded slowly. “Alright. And how do you spell that?” --- Anders marched into JPR with every intention of shutting himself in his office to rage-work through his frustration with his kin until he could punch out and find a blonde girl to use up the rest of his energy. Instead, he nearly bowled you over before looking up. Dawn “Anders this is-”

“Lofn.” The name fell as a surprised murmur from his lips as Anders came to an abrupt stop, already in spitting distance. Upon the sight of you, his entire system seemed to stall, the chaotic, angry energy from his frustration that morning dissipating completely.

You turned with a hopeful smile. “I don’t think we were ever properly introduced.” You stated your real name and extended your hand. Anders let out a small snort, smiling as he shook your hand. He’d forgotten your name wasn’t actually Lofn. “Anders Johnson.”

It was odd, really, to be introduced suddenly to someone who had been a secret comfort, a secret lover nearly a dozen times. Hadn’t he already complained to you at length about his unappreciative kin? Hadn’t he already memorized your body and come undone inside you over and over, only to have you suddenly disappear? How many nights had he thought about you, wondering if you were just a figment of his overworked mind? Now here you were, in his office in broad daylight and interacting with Dawn.

“Are you here for me?” he asked, his deeper meaning understood by you and not his employee. He’d certainly had a shit day so far, so it seemed plausible. “Yes and no. I was in Auckland, so I was hoping to find you here, but I know you might be busy.”

You had come to find him? Then it wasn’t that he’d somehow summoned you to him. Still, he could use the distraction. Anders turned to Dawn. “Do we have any appointments this afternoon?”

Dawn’s brow was ever so slightly raised as she’d been watching the interaction between the two of you. Anders did seem to know who you were, if not your name. Knowing how he was, she was suddenly concerned that he might leave the office with you and not return.

“We have a meeting with the florists in an hour.” “Alright.” He nodded and turned his attention back to you, gesturing to his office behind you. “We have a bit of time. Let’s go over what you need.”

Dawn picked up a notebook from her desk. “Shall I come take notes?” Anders didn’t look back at her as he led you toward his office. “I’ve got it covered, Dawn. But if you could prepare some bullet points for our next meeting?” He shut the door before she could reply, locking it with a flick of a latch.

You stood awkwardly just inside his office. “It’s really okay if you’re busy with work, I just-” “You didn’t come to comfort me?” His hands naturally found your waist, gaze searching your face and flitting between your mouth and eyes. “Do… you need comforting?” You certainly wouldn’t deny him if he did.

Concern etched your features as he appreciated your subtle makeup and the simple, elegant dress you were wearing. He was trying to decide if he liked you better dressed up or in your pajamas when he realized you’d asked him a question. “It’s been quite a day,” he admitted. “I’m sorry to hear that,” you said honestly, your hand reaching up to caress the side of his handsome face instinctively.

He closed his eyes and let your soothing aura wash over him even more, the adrenaline that had propelled him into the building now a distant memory. 

“As fun as randomly teleporting to you without warning has been, I thought… Maybe if you wanted to see me when you’re not in crisis…” you trailed off and shrugged, unable to look at him. This was definitely stupid of you. “Lofn on speed dial.” Anders smirked, passing you his phone. “Keen.”

[kariachi]

Hey, who wants some actual fic for Annelie's Settling during Showdown?

~~

The first thing he’s aware of as he falls is the painful ping of Annelie’s distance. They’ve been through their share of difficulties, bond stretched in a way that will never be fixed no matter how much they mend their relationship, but even that has its limit and he feels more than sees her dart from where she'd hit the bench, leaping out of the ship after him. He splays out as best he can, trying to slow his descent enough for her to catch up, a growing spot of grey above him. A million emotions shoot between them at once, anger, hurt, terror, the knowledge they’re too far apart, even the threat of death by severing more painful than the incoming death by impact, too much so for him to focus enough to change shape.

The gap closes, just barely enough for him to twist, reach out

His fingers graze her leg

She goes from short fur and striped greys to longer, red-toned locks

Scrambles for his sleeve

He yanks her into his arms

There’s air again

It’s not the wind watering their eyes

Just barely, through the ache and relief, they’re aware of a flash of green (oh yeah, Ben and Cassie were falling too-) and brace themselves for something resembling rescue. It comes in the form of a crash landing on WayBig’s back, Kevin latching on as soon as they realize they’re still falling. Even as relief floods them, the To’kustar will take hitting the ground far better than they would have, Annelie clings to his shirt in a mirror of the tight grip of his arm around her.

Her anger and hurt are bigger than a tiger.

She’s smaller than a fossa.

There’s no commentary when they hit the ground. Kevin climbs up onto WayBig’s shoulder one-handed, aching from a landing not even a fraction as rough as they would have had, can’t quite bring himself to absorb the metal of his armor, even though they both know it’s the smart thing to do. But that would put even an ounce more between himself and his daemon, and in that moment… Annelie assures Cassie they’re fine, Waybig helps them to the ground and asks they help the military with their defense. They halfheartedly promise.

He strokes her fur as they watch the other pair leave, long strides carrying them faster and further than they could ever manage. It’s only heartbeats before they can be sure of privacy, can turn their eyes to each other. She’s some sort of mongoose, they’ve been every feliform enough times to know instantly, with small ears, a pointed snout, and a black tip on the end of her long tail.

“Annie,” he says, running fingers over her head.

“Kev.”

Neither has to say it. Not when the betrayal of being shoved into freefall is so fresh. Not when Annelie, always with the higher standards, is puffed up and radiating the pain and rage he’s trying so hard not to feel. When she’s small enough to fit comfortably in his arms despite it. Instead, she reaches up to nuzzle his chin as Kevin smiles.

“You’re awesome.”

“We already knew that,” she chuckles, presses her head against his chest. They stand like that, Kevin’s head ducked over her, her pressed tight against him, the slightest tremble to the pair, for long, long minutes. There’s an emergency going on, a job they need to do, but in the moment that doesn’t matter. All there is is them, whole together, alive despite the near miss, and finally Settled. They won’t make that much of a difference that the world can’t wait.

Eventually, they pull back enough to look each other in the eye again. Release a breath in unison.

“We should probably go help, huh,” Kevin asks.

“Probably. Be just our luck to end up the only ones who can do something,” Annelie answered, climbing up onto his shoulders. He gave her another stroke, relishing the feel of her fur and the way she leaned into his hand, as he turned them towards the city. “Warning you now though, if Llyr comes near me again I’m taking off wings.”

For once in all of their relationships, he can’t bring himself to talk her down.