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[somashoponline]

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[cyberverse--reblogger]

Size chart for (some) Cyberverse characters!

(Note: The size and conversions into feet will be done below, typed out for convenience.)

So I was scrolling around on Seibertron's discussion threads about cyberverse (somebody was trying to bring some political figures in the conversation and I was so confused) to try and ignore my real-life responsibilities and I stumbled upon this post!

It's a (probably) official size chart for certain characters from cyberverse! I posted another version of the screenshot below. Also, here is the original video from where the size chart came from, and it is also in a playlist, including other videos about this cyberverse magazine.

Note: I suggest you click on the picture or open it in a new tab, as tumblr murdered the quality pretty badly. I also suggest you all to watch the video, because my computer is kinda crappy, and idk if taking a screenshot murdered the quality.

HEIGHT AND CONVERSION INTO IMPERIAL SYSTEM:

This is by the order from left to right, top to bottom. Please note that this isn't exact, as I'm just trying my best with eyeballing the heights, and I'm using google conversion to change this in the imperial system, and I'm also rounding the numbers to only two decimal places. Also, the poses they're doing are really weird (seriously, what are you doing, Acid Storm?), but I'm assuming that wherever their heads end is how tall whoever put this chart together wanted them to be, and they didn't have access to any official art that had everyone standing straight.

By the way, please don't chew me a new butt if I'm off by around 0.10 meters or something. I'm trying my best here, and I don't really want to break out the rulers and grid and do math to find their exact height. I'm just doing this for fun :]

AUTOBOTS/TOP ROW: Bumblebee: 4.75 meters, equivalent to 15.58 feet. Optimus Prime: 5.75 meters, equivalent to 18.86 feet. Windblade: 4.75 meters, equivalent to 15.58 feet. Grimlock: 6 meters, equivalent to 19.69 feet (nice). Hot Rod: 5.25 meters, equivalent to 17.22 feet. Wheeljack: 5.50 meters, equivalent to 18.04 feet. Blurr: 5.50 meters, equivalent to 18.04 feet. Ratchet: 5.65 meters, equivalent to 18.54 feet.

DECEPTICONS/BOTTOM ROW: Megatron: 6.25 meters, equivalent to 20.50 feet. Starscream: 5.10 meters, equivalent to 16.73 feet. Shockwave: 5.75 meters, equivalent to 18.86 feet. Thundercracker: 4.65 meters, equivalent to 15.26 feet. Shadow Striker: 5.65 meters, equivalent to 18.54 feet. Acid Storm: 4.65 meters, equivalent to 15.26 feet. Soundwave: 5.65 meters, equivalent to 18.54 feet. Slipstream: 4.65 meters, equivalent to 15.26 feet.

Below the cut is some stuff that I found interesting, like the average of heights, orders from shortest to tallest, surprises I had, and other thoughts. Take a look!

AVERAGE HEIGHTS OF AUTOBOTS: 5.39 meters, equivalent to 17.69 feet (nice).

AVERAGE HEIGHTS OF DECEPTICONS: 5.29 meters, equivalent to 17.37 feet.

AVERAGE HEIGHTS OF BOTS WITH LAND-BASED ALT-MODES (there were 11 of them in total; 7 Autobots, 4 Decepticons): 5.61 meters, equivalent to 18.40 feet.

AVERAGE HEIGHTS OF BOTS WITH AERIAL-BASED ALT-MODES (there were 5 of them in total; 1 Autobot, 4 Decepticons): 4.76 meters, equivalent to 15.62 feet.

-----

Height re-order; Tallest to shortest, all bots: 1. Megatron (6.25 m // 20.50 ft) 2. Grimlock (6 m // 19.69 ft) 3. Optimus Prime and Shockwave (Both 5.75 m // 18.86 ft) 4. Ratchet, Shadow Striker, and Soundwave (All 5.65 m // 18.54 ft) 5. Blurr and Wheeljack (Both 5.50 m // 18.04 ft) 6. Hot Rod (5.25 m // 17.22 ft) 7. Starscream (5.10 m // 16.73 ft) 8. Bumblebee and Windblade (Both 4.75 m // 15.58 ft) 9. Acid Storm, Slipstream, and Thundercracker (All 4.65 m // 15.26 ft)

Height re-order; Tallest to shortest, Autobots only: 1. Grimlock (6 m // 19.69 ft) 2. Optimus Prime (5.75 m // 18.54 ft) 3. Ratchet (5.65 m // 18.54 ft) 4. Blurr and Wheeljack (Both 5.50 m // 18.04 ft) 5. Hot Rod (5.25 m // 17.22 ft) 6. Bumblebee and Windblade (Both 4.75 m // 15.58 ft)

Height re-order; Tallest to shortest, Decepticons only: 1. Megatron (6.25 m // 20.50 ft) 2. Shockwave (5.75 m // 18.86 ft) 3. Shadow Striker, and Soundwave (Both 5.65 m // 18.54 ft) 4. Starscream (5.10 m // 16.73 ft) 5. Acid Storm, Slipstream, and Thundercracker (All 4.65 m // 15.26 ft)

-----

This whole list was pretty interesting, although I do feel like the animators weren't all that faithful to this (heck, I don't think they had this, and were just told general guidelines to follow to make each character a certain height.) Also, I'd have thought the seekers (and Windblade) would have been taller than most of the other bots that have land-based alt-modes, like Bumblebee or Hot Rod. I guess not in this continuity.

Considering that the other bots that are the same height as Shadow Striker or taller are either SUVs, tanks, large trucks, dinosaurs, etc, while Shadow Striker is just a sports car is pretty interesting.

I also like to imagine that the only reason why Starscream is taller than the other seekers listed is because he made some sort of mod (maybe something that has to do to his rockets at his heel/foot?)

It's too bad that there doesn't seem to be anything with the rest of the s1 characters (Because I swear there were more Autobots first shown in background scenes during season one, but I could be wrong), and it really is too bad that we don't have anything for the season 2, 3, and the movie specials.

Still, I hope you all found this post as interesting as I did!

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[tktables]

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[shorecity123]

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[craftwardrobeuk]

The Allure of Shaker Design

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[prosypepper]

this is love ft. kento nanami

a/n: a few sappy slices of life with my main man :3 enjoy as i dig up motivation to finish kinktober. 18+ mdni!

"honey?" kento's voice is muffled through the door as he calls out to you, "everything okay?" the door rattles as he tries to open it, knob jingling.

"uhm, yeah! everything's fine!" you nervously shout, much too loud, and rush to unplug the iron that had melted your husband's favorite shirt. you panic and yelp when the hot iron scorches the side on your hand, throwing the stupid device to the ground in a clatter.

"why is the door locked—are you okay?" he asks, voice becoming more concerned as he hears the movement inside.

"i'm—i'm fine! promise! just give me a minute!" you're rushing into your shared master bathroom to run cold water over your hand, and kento’s using a screwdriver pulled from thin air to break into your bedroom. tears well in your eyes when you catch the sight of kento seeing his favorite shirt burnt and melted to his own ironing board. "i’m so sorry…"

in reality, he doesn’t care about the shirt—he’s already at your side to inspect your burnt hand. after a few seconds, he speaks.

"did you try to iron my shirt for me?" nanami asks, a small smile on his face, "you didn’t have to do that." he turns off the faucet and takes a small towel to dry your hand off.

"i tried to, i’m sorry—i didn’t know it would do that." you apologize, looking down at the cold tile flooring in defeat.

"oh, honey." he coos, "it’s only a shirt."

"have you seen your father?" you ask your son, yū, who’s sat at the dining table, eating breakfast. he shakes his head no, and when you look at your daughter, mayu, she does the same.

"jeez," you grumble to yourself, bedroom slippers pattering down the hallway as you go to search for your husband. saturday mornings were his time to sleep in, but realistically, he never slept past 9am. and currently, it was nearing 10am.

you check everywhere. he isn’t found in the bedroom, living room, his office, the garage, the patio or in the little garden he kept. upstairs, downstairs, everywhere, he isn’t there. and when you check in your bedroom for the last time, you hear a soft buzzing coming from the bathroom. upon entering, you see your husband bent over the counter, leaning close in the mirror as he shaves his stubble with an electric razor.

"there you are—when did you get that?"

kento had always been a clean shaven kind of man, going to a barber shop once every two weeks for his straight razor shave. it hadn’t even crossed your mind he didn’t go after work yesterday.

but when he looks at you—you burst out laughing. he’d shaven most of his beard off, but a few fuzzy patches remained on his cheeks, along with a mustache grazing his upper lip. peach fuzz and a few knicks litter his chin. this was the first time you’d seen him unable to do anything perfectly. and he looks ridiculous.

"is it really that bad?" he groans, pouting when you wrap your arms around yourself in a giggling fit. you shake your head, although your unforgiving laughs are a testament to the opposite.

"no—no, let me help," you say after calming down.

after gathering a new razor and some shaving cream, you sit atop the counter and your husband stands between your legs. kento is surprised how flawlessly you shave his face, without creating any more marks or cuts. you giggle and kiss him, getting some shaving cream on your face.

"ken?" you shout from the kitchen, where you’re sat, working on your dissertation. it’s been a long road of blood, sweat, and many, many tears; but you’re finally getting towards the end. about to earn a doctorate.

"yes, darling?" kento replies, walking into the kitchen on queue, his timing impeccable.

"can you read over this paragraph, please?" you kindly ask of him, pointing to your most recent written paragraph. he leans over you, planting one firm palm on the table, the other on your back; his eyes read along the sentences and his fingers tap along your spine.

"ah," his finger becomes more focused on a certain word, "wrong 'there', honey."

"no it's not..." you instantly retort, squinting your tired eyes to read over your writing. and you're right, it was the correct one the first time. this was his version of teasing you. but kento couldn't keep up the face much longer before he's giving in with a shit-eating grin you didn't see that often. "you're funny." you groan as kento stands back up.

after reading over the paragraph for about the nineteenth time, you notice kento silently slipping you some tea before turning back around to keep himself busy with cleaning. you absentmindedly take a few sips, then some more...and you find yourself becoming more and more sleepy...

and you're out like a light, forehead pressed directly against the table as a puddle of drool forms on the papers below. kento already has a warm blanket straight from the dryer to drape over you, and you stir just enough to get comfy on your arms.

kento knows that his back will hurt in the morning, but he sits around the corner of the table next to you, settling his head into his arms to drift off to sleep alongside you.

music of your taste plays rather quietly in the kitchen. you stir the pot of soup and inhale the flavorful aroma that wafts through the air.

kento sets two bowls next to the stove, then rummages through your silverware drawer to find two spoons. the kids are at their grandparents for the weekend, it's only you and your husband, converted into the duo you were long ago.

you step away from the stove to go fill up two glasses of wine, the brand kento had as his favorite had slowly turned into your favorite over time, too.

kento fills up the two bowls to the brim of the delicious food, grinning on the inside at the simplicity of it all. just you and him. he lids the pot with the matching glass top and makes his way over to the table.

you set out place mats for the both of you, then place the wine glasses in their prospective areas. kento places the bowls on top of the mats as you grab the spoons from the counter.

in the kitchen, your bodies subconsciously dance around each other. carefully, in perfect tune and pace. delicate steps of a routine formed over so much time together.

in the universe, your souls are tied, striding alongside one another in each lifetime repeated.

and this, is love.

[sumuraj]

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[luvsupa]

a/n two posts in one day… ruh roh… (I miss gojo </3)

ex!satoru who doesn’t really understand the concept of being an ex. he just thinks you want a break from him. but permanently separated? hell no, he could never understand that.

“‘toru… things aren’t gonna work out between us,” you begin as he sits in front of you at your dinner table in your shared apartment. he looks at you with no emotion, as if you didn’t just end things. “we’re growing in separate ways, and i feel i would only—satoru.”

you could scream at him—he’s not paying attention, scrolling on his phone instead. he shows you the order he placed for dinner, coming in twenty minutes. of course, he bought your favorite.

“satoru, can you please be serious for one minute?” you huff, clearly annoyed that he’s not listening while he’s purchasing things he knows will make you swoon.

“i am serious,” he says, placing his phone down to observe your breathtaking features.

“you weren’t even listening,” you say, crossing your arms as you slouch in the seat.

“baby, of course i’m listening—you’re crazy if you think i’m leaving you,” he coos condescendingly, and you roll your eyes.

ex!satoru who, in fact, respected your decision and gave you your personal space, not exactly broken up in his eyes, just a temporary break.

ex!satoru who stays over at suguru’s place for a few months, whining every day and night about how he missed being in your arms.

“i miss her,” gojo says as he pets geto’s cat, miyu, while geto himself groans as he cleans his apartment.

“can you at least help out and stop whining like a bitch,” geto says, adjusting the pillows neatly on his couch. this only causes gojo to frown and embrace miyu in a tight hug, nuzzling his face in her soft fur as she tries to get away from his grasp.

“and let go of miyu, she doesn’t want you holding her.”

ex!satoru who continues to send you money, always sending you hundreds and hundreds of dollars for food, shopping, and especially paying for your necessities. he doesn’t care that you work for yourself—you’re still his baby, and he loves spoiling you. his money is your money.

unknown number sent $500! —go get some food, baby~ ♡

unknown number sent $600! —please unblock me on insta

unknown number sent $300! —i love u, mama

ex!satoru who chokes on his breakfast when shoko says you’re going on a date. gojo, never in his life, was speechless, and that really creeped out shoko and geto.

“satoru… are you good?” geto asks concernedly—even miyu jumps on gojo’s lap, sensing a difference in his character.

“yeah, i’m good…” he says calmly, placing down his utensils to pet miyu’s soft fur.

ex!satoru who does a little investigating of who this mysterious man is, finding his identity within ten minutes. he scoffs when he finds his social media—he’s nowhere near as handsome as he is. what do you see in him?

ex!satoru who sits comfortably in the luxurious restaurant where you and the mysterious man planned to go. little did you know, gojo texted the man, telling him that you’re married.

“aiko?” gojo hears a soft voice call as he turns to look at you. your eyes widen when you see gojo. this has to be some kind of joke—he is fucking crazy. you turn around, going back to the entrance, but gojo grabs your wrist.

“no, no, no, baby, please let me talk,” he pleads, and you fold from the way he calls you baby. oh, how you loved and missed the way he called you baby and claimed you as his own.

he guides you to the chair in front of him as he holds your hand, your pretty acrylics grazing his hands. he loved the way you looked well put together, his baby doll.

“my love, i promise to leave you,” he says, rubbing small circles on your hand. your heart pangs at his confession. “i just want to know how you’re doing.”

“i-i miss you so much,” you say. gojo feels like he’s hallucinating at what you just said. “shoko told me you were having a date today, and i felt so jealous—” you stammer, and gojo blinks multiple times, stunned at what you’re saying.

“this guy aiko asked me on a date, and i wanted to make you jealous,” you continue, frowning at being confused with your emotions. but gojo, on the other hand, is putting two and two together.

“give me your phone,” he sternly says. you stare at him in confusion, but you oblige, taking out your phone from your purse and handing it to him. gojo smiles as your lockscreen is still a baby photo of him. he unlocks your phone—the password still the same, his birthday.

“i was meaning to change the lockscreen,” you quickly state, not trying to look like a weirdo in front of him.

gojo goes into your contacts and clicks aiko’s contact information, calling the number. multiple rings go by, and the man on the other line picks up.

“hello—”

“shoko, i know this is you.”

you look at him and your phone in horror. shoko set you guys up by making a fake number to make you go on a date with ‘aiko’ but really you’d be with gojo.

“ahh, did my plan work? both of you kept whining about each other—it was infuriating. i had to do something,” she says on the other line, gojo clearly hearing geto’s giggles in the background.

“don’t ever do this again,” gojo says as he hangs up the phone. the two of you burst out in laughter, but for you, it’s more embarrassing that you were flirting with shoko through texts!

fiancé!satoru who proposed to you a few weeks later, he’s beyond happy to be in the arms of his baby again <3

[oceantornadoo]

lowkey public humiliation kink? sugar daddy (dark) simon riley x f!reader. nipple piercings. terrible daddy kink and this is literally just smut without smut

au where you’re simon riley’s sugar baby and utterly embarrassed to be because he’s so public. insists on taking you to popular restaurants seated in a center booth, like he knows your bullies from high school picked today for their weekly lunch date. orders oysters and hand feeds them to you, licking the salty corners of your mouth afterwards before slipping a hundred dollar bill between your tits. no shadowy corners or dark bars - you’re lingerie shopping in broad daylight, eyes skittering when you see an old teacher you once had at a rack near you. it would be fine if he was your boyfriend, had some stake in the game, but he’s the puppet master pulling the strings.

“would pay a grand to see my cum on y’r tits in this, love.”

he holds a dark blue lace bra to your chest, groping you through the cups of it like he’s trying to see it fit. the store worker can only gape next to you, before shaking her head and gathering three more similar styles in your size. he’s such a dog and you can’t say no because you need the money desperately, thoughts of your previous shitty apartment in an even shittier neighborhood floating through your head.

now, you live in a high rise with floor to ceiling windows. he pays you more when you let him fuck you against them, naked tits against glass as the rough feel of his denim grinds into your ass with every thrust. there’s no clear rules with him, not anything like you’ve seen on sugar baby forums and tip sites. he doesn’t give you an amount for each action, simply an overstuffed envelope on the table when he eventually leaves.

“how much to get these pierced?” he pinches your nipple through the bikini top you’re wearing, interrupting your relaxed suntanning on your apartment balcony. “simon.” your frustration bleeds into your lack of forethought. he raises an eyebrow by a hair. “say that again, baby?” you bite your lip and look down, already regretting your mistake. “i’m sorry, daddy. you caught me off guard.” he grunts. simon tugs your tit out of its nylon confines and tugs it this way and that in the sunlight, pinching like he’s imagining a piercing. “didn’t answer my question, pet.” you question where your limits are. if you even have any at this point. he’s bulldozed through every wall you’ve put up, but his money and sheer presence protects you no matter what. sure, you’re topless on your balcony, but he bought you the penthouse so no one above you could see.

what can he give you that you don’t have? any debt has been paid, retirement accounts funded, enough clothes and bags to last a lifetime. you want something immaterial, some proof you’re not like the others.

“i want exclusivity. and i want to know where you’re going when you’re not here.” his hands don’t stop, moving to your other breast to free it as well. it’s somehow more obscene to still be wearing your top, tight fabric pushing your hardened nipples out like you’re presenting yourself to him, asking for attention. “can’t tell ya where i go, pet. got lots of enemies, matter of security.” you frown at the rejection. his hand moves to the soft expanse of your stomach, groping the fat there like playdoh. “ask f’r somethin’ else.” he doesn’t mention the exclusivity. you don’t want to ruin it by asking again.

“i want to see you shirtless.” you murmur. he always fucks you with his shirt on. t-shirt, button-up, wifebeater - it doesn’t matter. he’s stripped you down to his own personal puppet and you want something back. “after y’r tits heal, maybe.” you frown harder as his hand slides down to cup your cunt. there’s a wet spot on the light pink fabric of your bikini bottom and he presses it into you. you keen, arching at the sensation. “since i can’t play with your tits, you’ll wear no clothes when i’m home. understand?” he taps your cunt to get your attention. you want to protest but his dark brown eyes are so forceful, beating you into submission.

when you get them pierced (by a handsy man named johnny who insisted on ‘checking for lumps’ five seperate times while simon grunted in the corner), simon insists on cleaning them for you. he makes you open your mouth and hold a bill there on your tongue while he cleans them. you only get to keep them if you don’t make a sound while he touches the raw area, saline solution dripping between your tits. it’s pocket change and at this point money is immaterial, but you want to please your daddy so badly.

a few weeks later and his non-answer to your exclusivity question rings in your head incessantly. it’s there when he stops mid-fuck to take a call and when he sits you on his lap facing forward while he spreads paperwork on your bare back. he’s been “called in” (whatever that means) and is counting cash when you finally give in.

“daddy?” simon grunts, eyes on his wallet. “you never…” you trail off, suddenly unsure. abandoning his cash counting, he drops a black card on the table before turning to you. you’ve been naked all week but suddenly feel exposed, stripped bare. “spit it out, baby. time is money.” against your will, you roll your eyes at his joke. “now that i got them pierced…you never answered when i asked about exclusivity.” he approaches the chair your huddled on and tilts your chin up with a gloved finger.

“you’re the only girl i pay, pet.” you swallow hard. “and what about the ones you don’t?” his eyes search yours, looking for something. “don’t have any tha’ i don’t. got tha’ in y’r pretty ‘ead?” you nod eagerly, ignoring the slight burn in your tits as they bounce. “yes, daddy.”

“good. buy y’rself some toys when im gone, don’t wantcha too eager when im back.” there’s no bite in his tone, so you grin eagerly.

“bye, pet.” he pulls you in for a messy kiss. you’ve give it as good as you can, saliva connecting your lips as you part. his eyes track it as it falls down your bare chest. you open your legs a bit, giving him a glimpse of the wetness between them. “bye, daddy.”

“fuckin’ minx.”

-

follow for notifications: @tornadoowarning

originally made this about john price but slimy rabid simon is my favorite. i had a dream about sugar daddy john (mainly from this fic) and then this was born (i’m PMS horny)

also pls take care of your piercings

[lilyinmysoul]

When The Night Ends

DarkJackson!Joel x F Reader

WC: 2k

Warnings: Smut, unprotected piv, somno (sorry not sorry), dubcon, dark Joel like I said, Joel is dominant, breeding kink, kinda forced breeding but she's into it, Joel palming himself

Note: This is based on a request I got, reblogs help so much. If you like it, tell me, so I can write more. If it's not your thing, shoot me a request so I know what is.

Joel isn’t sure how Jackson has so much damn alcohol, or where it all comes from, really. That hardly matters, though—all that matters is that it’s there, and he will drink it.

Regretfully, he couldn’t overdo it. He had patrols to go on, responsibilities to attend to—but nearly every Friday, without fail, he would take to the Tipsy Bison. Whether it be alone, with his brother, or the occasional patrol partner, he would be there.

You are, of course, aware of this. And even if you did have a say in the matter, it wouldn’t bother you much. There was a complete absence of a label regarding yours and Joel’s relationship; maybe it was because you both knew that he wasn’t cut out for such a role, or possibly how you knew that to bring it up would be to run the risk of disturbing a very concise system—his temper. Really, it appeared that you took what he gave you, and it seemed to be enough.

In any case, it is yet another Friday night. The double doors of the Tipsy Bison swing open, and the cool air on his skin mixes with the alcohol’s hazy embrace of his conscience, and Joel wants to see you. The winds are rough, hence why he is nearly the only man in the streets (paired with the time—it’s the dead of night). His brow furrows a bit harder when a man passes by with his son, and he begins his trek back to… wherever he finds himself. He’s too inebriated to make much sense of it. 

It had been too long, it appeared, since he’d seen you. You had noticed this too, and frankly, it seemed to be the nature of involving yourself with Joel Miller. As of late, he had increasingly withdrawn himself from your company; but tonight, he seemed emboldened in his sense of longing for you.

Although it is cold, the winter snow has since cleared, leaving only the occasional melting puddle of slush under his feet. Those same feet lead Joel all across town. He passes rows of closed up shops and blocks full of houses. Warm houses, he assumes. Houses occupied by families, maybe. Husbands, wives, children… alcohol makes him sentimental. Angry, even. He continues to trudge.

What’s interesting is that drinks seem to both aid and worsen the hole in Joel’s chest. They deliver some sort of tranquility, and also, a comparable and equally as intense sense of abhorrence. This isn’t something he contemplates as he nears his house, and when he sees it, he doesn’t slow. He continues to walk. After all, there isn’t much for him there; and so, his home is going, going, gone to a sea of other, almost identical ones. Ones with more to offer than a few half-built and boring guitars.

And when he arrives on your doorstep, it’s like second nature. He’s been here enough to know where you keep your spare key, but never long enough to find the one that opens the back door. Tiredly, he kneels and his hip pops as he reaches underneath the flower pot (he believes he gave this to you, but he really can’t remember) and slides from under it the key.

He turns the knob—not slowly or carefully, but rushedly—and it twists and opens. You had left it unlocked—God, he hates when you do that.

The door creaks open and gives way to Joel’s figure—you weren’t around to notice; it couldn’t be any earlier than midnight, and you had long since gone to bed. He fishes around on the wall in the pitch blackness for the light switch.  It takes him a moment, but he flicks it on. The kitchen is illuminated by a few twenty-year-old lightbulbs and cluttered by everything you couldn’t bother to put away. Each item thrown upon your table was a fragment of your life—not enough of which included him, which fueled his irritation.

His shoes don’t come off, and instead he climbs the stairs, his heavy boots leaving wet footprints on each step and 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 on the wood but not loud enough to wake you. His every pace is slightly swayed, his balance influenced by many glasses of whiskey, downed alone in a corner of the bar.

Your door is slightly askew, and its hinges squeal as he pushes it open. Joel’s eyes fall upon your sleeping figure, your limbs lost among the sea of blankets tossed atop your bed. Your work clothes had been haphazardly strewn across the floor, and you wore only a bra and panties. This was a spectacle of your everyday life, he realized; one that he didn’t know much about. Another pang of displeasure gnaws at his heart—he isn’t sure of its origin, but he knows that it’s disturbing him.

The way he kicks off his boots is slightly more hostile; a loud, dull noise that rings through the room. The old, hollow walls reverberate the sound, and you stir—but don’t wake. Once his old and beaten shoes rest against the wall, his feet carry him to the edge of your bed. As he takes in your sleeping face, your head resting in your hands and legs stretched wildly on the mattress, he feels almost proprietorial of you.

Only you know that Joel’s vexation often turns to arousal in your presence, and the two often blend. There is something about your still and sleeping face, the plush curves of your body made visible by your clothing (or, lack thereof)—or, it may simply be the fact that Joel is frustrated and he needs it taken care of. As he stands above you, his hand—as if on its own—snakes down to the bulge protruding from his worn jeans. His fingers rub and squeeze, his eyes running over you as you twitch and stir unconsciously. You seem to mesmerize him momentarily as he stands, his roving eyes concluding that they want more.

Soon enough, his drunkenly clumsy fingers are fumbling with his belt, pulling at its leather and clanking its buckle, pulling open the suddenly complex contraption. Next, the silver button of his jeans is popped and the zipper undone as your firm mattress dips under his weight when he sits. For a few moments, he looks at you. And with an almost uncharacteristic gentleness, his fingers reach out to touch you. The graze is tender as it glides along your side, your stomach, your chest—though maybe only an effort to adjourn your waking.

His calloused fingers reach the band of your underwear—a faded blue pair from however long ago. They roam over the soft fabric, cruising over its front and halting when they skim over the spot you like so much—it makes you tense; but your eyes don’t open. Two of Joel’s fingers trace circles for a moment. He watches your still face and glances down when your thighs squeeze. With a few more circlings, his patience has run dry and his captivation with you has turned to necessity.

He does as he can to be gradual with his movements as he lays over you on the bed, his hair tousled and his jeans halfway down. An elbow props him up, his face adjacent to yours as his glazed eyes search your closed ones. His free hand hastily frees himself from the confines of his boxers and rubs fumblingly over the damp fabric of your panties again before pushing aside its material.

His mind is slightly empty from the alcohol, and his head a bit achey, but he knows what he is doing. For no more than a split second, he looks down, aligning himself with you. He pumps his cock a few times before finally notching himself in—a hiss leaves his mouth, and as his hips begin pushing into yours, he looks back up. Your eyes are open.

Your eyes widen, surprised as sleepiness refuses you any sense of understanding.

“Shh,” Joel insists. “Baby, it’s me.” His voice tapers off when he says this, his head slouching to rest on your shoulder.

“Joel…” when his voice registers with you, familiar and low, your muscles relax a bit. “What… are you doing here?” You ask, and as soon as the question leaves your mouth, you understand its stupidity. His hips are moving now, in and out… ‘Why else would he be here?’ and you’re half asleep.

“This okay…?” he asks, but it doesn’t seem like he cares greatly about your answer; he is very much out of it. You smell it on him. On his skin, on his breath. Everywhere.

“Um, I…” His eyes are glassy and focused on yours, and his hips are getting faster. The room is black, and you’re not sure what to think, but you’re glad that he’s finally here again. The only sounds in your ears are the old radiator and the wet sound of skin on skin. “Yeah.”

His head dips to your neck, nipping and biting in a way that’s a little too primal. You wrap an arm around him, your hand resting on his back and when Joel begins to grunt, you let sounds escape your mouth, too.

“Shit…” his voice wavers, and he might be even more drunk than you thought he was. But as sloppy as his movements are, they are persistent. 

“Joel.” His name passes your lips. As a question, or as a statement, you aren’t sure. You don't get an answer. The moon outside is the only thing allowing you to see him, the accentuated lines across his face and the greys littering his hair. Your legs wrap around his hips now, seeking some sort of comfort, or reassurance.

He wasn’t ever particularly chatty during sex, but he is even quieter now. His energy, it seems, has been dedicated to pushing his hips as firmly and deeply into you as possible. He looks almost focused, determined. Or maybe distracted.

Joel is clearly working himself up. His movements rougher, his voice louder, and he’s close. You always know, with the way he tenses, the way he speaks. This is the only fact that registers in your mind; everything else is lost on you. So, when he says; “I’m not stoppin’,” you blink.

“What?”

“I’m gonna cum,” a thrust. “And I’m not pullin’ out, I’m not stoppin’.”

“Wh…” you start. A groan on both of your ends sounds when he hits a particularly good spot. You yourself are getting close now, your back arching slightly off the bed, your mind still cloudy as you try to make sense of Joel’s words.

A few of his fingers come down to rub your clit, circling onto you your own wetness before coming to rest on your stomach. His hand caresses the skin on your tummy. “Imagine that…” he mutters in an almost slurred tone. “Just imagine that.”

You look down at his hand, and then back up again. You meet his eyes, and you understand very clearly what he means. You don’t have the will to fight it–at least, you don’t think you do–so, you hold him tighter and closer, letting each thought fade from your mind as he continues to bliss you out. How he holds you so possessively, how he looks at you so rapaciously… you don’t mind at all.

A few more erratic thrusts, and you’re coming. A few more, and Joel is, too.

You hear it—a low grunt and a groan from Joel—and then you feel it; a deep, warm sensation— a release and movement of liquid that you’ve never felt before. He’s never done that. You can’t help but, in all your weariness, think about the weight of what has just taken place.

To claim you had never mulled over the thought of a child—Joel’s child—would be a lie. The thought was welcoming, sweet… but Joel was not. He was neither. What he had just made was either some kind of commitment, or a grave mistake.

“You’re mine, y’know.” He grumbles into your hair.

“Am I?” You ask.

“Y’are.”

“Okay. I believe you.”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Thanks for reading! Lmk if you like

[irestfurniture]

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[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug Like Angel

Till you tell me to leave

As you made your way to the living room, you looked at the long, gothic walls.

You saw all the family portraits.

The same ones you'd been forced to take.

In all the pictures you were in, you had a completely different style than the others

Damian was always telling you to dress a sort of way, just so you could be left out.

Ouch.

It got to a point that Bruce had assumed you were doing this on purpose, just to get attention.

So, he stopped bringing you to get the portraits done.

Thinking about that made you pissed, so you decided to put your mind to something else.

You couldn't wait to get the movie night over with, you could probably sneak away near the end and go a someone else's universe.

You calmed yourself down so the others didn't get suspicious and made your way to the living room.

You saw everyone sitting down, except for Dick, who was probably in the kitchen, getting snacks.

Everyone was talking and not noticing you, you were glad.

As soon as you turned around and were about to make your way back to your room, you heard it.

"Birdie!"

Dick.

You turned around on your heel, your spidey senses helping you dodge Dicks bear hug.

You saw how for a split second he had a slight face of shock, his blue eyes widening.

He put his hands on his hips. "And where do you think you're going?"

You tried your hardest to put on a poker face. You didn't want him to know you were slightly intimidated by him.

Sure, you weren't scared, or terrified, as you once were.

You were stronger now, everyone knew that, but now you didn't have the comfort of your friends to keep you grounded and safe.

"I, uhm, went to get a bottle of water. I'm thirsty." you lied through your teeth, you just wanted to get away from them.

Dick raised an eyebrow "From where? I just got back from the kitchen."

"From my mini fridge." you weren't exactly lying, you did have a mini fridge from years ago when you decided you didn't want to burden everyone by getting necessities like food and water.

His eyes lit up as if he just had a lightbulb moment. "Don't you think all those snacks and drinks are expired by now? We could go to get some more together!"

"No thanks." you shut it down before he got any ideas "I like going shopping by myself."

Before Dick could protest, you heard Tim's voice.

"Can you guys shut up and sit down?" he was clearly annoyed.

Before you knew it, Dick dragged towards the couch, patting the seat next to him.

You pretended to not notice him patting the seat and made your way towards the seat at the end of the couch.

You hesitated to sit down there, you weren't used to being invited to family hangouts.

You could feel everyone's judgemental stares towards you, you knew basically everyone but Dick and Bruce still didn't want you around.

You sat down by yourself while everyone was huddled up together.

You glanced at Dick and saw how saddened he looked that you didn't sit with him.

You could almost feel bad for him.

"Time to choose the movie." Alfred placed the remote on the glass table, and before you knew it everyone but Bruce, Alfred, and you were fighting with the controller, pushing, pulling, and punching.

You could almost laugh at how silly this was.

You almost felt like part of the family

Bruce watched as you had a sad smile on your face, and got an idea.

"Let Y/N get a chance to choose this time."

Suddenly everyone that was fighting froze in place. You suppressed a chuckle at how stupid it was.

Jason begrudgingly passed you the controller, somewhat aggressively.

You started scrolling through the movies trying to find one to watch.

You could hear the others whispering to each other, obviously a little mad they didn't get to choose.

You got nervous and took a minute or two picking one.

Everyone was getting impatient.

You finally found the movie you had been wanting to watch for a while.

One that you never got to finish.

Scary movie.

Literally, that's the name.

You clicked on it, and all the memories flooded back.

You and the other spider kids decided to sneak out to the movies.

You were walking towards the entrance of the theater, holding Peni's hand.

Gwen was holding hands with an obviously smitten Miles.

Pav was secretly taking a picture of them.

It was so cute how he had a crush on his own girlfriend!

Peni was holding your hand, and holding Margos in her other hand.

You had Bruce's credit card in your purse, which also had a bunch of snacks you were gonna sneak in.

Hobie was standing next to you.

You and he had yet again raided a 7/11, this time you hid the snacks in his hair.

Every time he took a step or slightly moved, you could hear the crinkles and crackles of the snack bags in his hair.

You tried not to laugh when you both made your way past the ticket booth and security.

While the others were discussing what they thought the movie was gonna be about, they felt a strange silence.

One that was only there for around 15 seconds.

One that was usually filled with laughter and joy.

Peni looked confused for a moment before asking, "Where did Y/N go?"

Before you knew it, everyone started scattering around looking for you.

Hobie and Pavitr both looked inside some of the theaters, maybe you snuck into a theater?

You weren't there, so they kept looking.

Margo and Peni were looking in the security cams, only for them to be broken because a certain someone (Hobie) 'accidentally' webbed them in a penis shape.

Gwen and Miles looked in the parking lot, maybe you went to get something from the car?

They all decided to meet up together to find you.

As soon as they got to the lobby, they found you buying all the overly expensive snacks and giving them away to other families.

Peni ran to you and tackled you in a hug "Y/N!" her tackle somehow managed to throw you onto the ground

You hugged her back, slightly confused "Hey guys!"

Margo offered you your hand "We were so worried about you!"

"Why? I was gone for like, two minutes!" you chuckled, taking her hand

Gwen dusted off a piece of chocolate from your cheek, presumably from a chocolate bar you had around half an hour ago "I swear, we need to put a harness on you!"

"Oh c'mon, don't you guys think it was a little overkill to go around panicking looking for me?" you playfully punched the side of gwens shoulder, smirking

"One time we thought you went missing for a week only for you to be on an earth no one is allowed in and somehow made a horse army?" Miles crossed his arms in a way that sort of reminded you of his mom.

Pavitr nodded "One time you didn't reply to any of us for a month because your phone was dead and you lost the charger, and you also lost your watch somehow, so you were literally off the grid"

"One time we were at the mall and I turned around for a minute and somehow we found you across the mall at a petstore." Gwen added

"This is my life and y'all are just living in it." you dramatically put your hands on your hips, which made Peni giggle.

"Just to let you guys know, the movie starts in like, 3 minutes and we haven't made it to our seats." Margo pulled up the tickets from her pocket

You all looked at each other and booked it to your seats.

You all made it just in time, the trailers had just ended.

The movie was good, but what made it great was all your friends around you.

Hobie was asleep, his legs leaning on the chair in front of him.

Peni had her head on your shoulder, watching the movie.

Miles and Gwen were playfully throwing popcorn at each other and Margo was the only one 100% focused on the movie.

After that, it was all a blur.

All you can remember is an anomaly coming in and wrecking everything.

You and the others had to fight off the anomaly together, and secretly bring it to the society without the spider parents knowing.

Unfortunately, that meant you never got to finish the movie.

You smiled at the memory, which surprised the others because a jumpscare had just happened.

"L/N, why are you smiling?" Damian asked, his green eyes squinting at you.

"Nothing, I just remembered something funny. Also, I don't use L/N anymore, I go by O'hara now."

Bruce grabbed the controller from your hands and paused the movie.

"What?" you saw his eye slightly twitch

"Yeah, don't worry about it." you tried to unpause the movie, only for the controller to be barely out of reach

"Did he make you change your name?" Dick got up and questioned, standing next to Bruce

"no, he didn't force me, I'm attached to him like a parasite. He's never getting rid of me." you joked, nervously. You just wanted to go back to your room.

"How exactly did you change your name?" Bruce put his hands on his hips

"surprise adoption." you fidgeted with your bracelet out of nervousness,

"what does that even mean?" Jason spoke up, turning his head to look away from his phone and instead at you.

"I got hurt one too many times, and while I was delirious I asked him for probably the millionth time if he could adopt me. he obviously couldn't, so we met halfway and he let me have his last name." you said casually.

Suddenly dick and Bruce were scolding you.

You pretended not to be affected, and just got up and stomped back to your room.

You locked the door and started crying.

You could lie and say that you didn't care about them, but the truth is that their yelling at you made you feel 10 years old again.

You felt like the same kid that was ignored and pushed around by them.

You just wanted to go home.

Suddenly, you heard a slight buzzing.

You looked for where it was coming from and saw it was coming from under your bed.

You looked under your bed and saw it was your watch.

You quickly typed Hobies universe number and left.

As soon as you got there, you made your way to his trailer.

You knocked on the door and made your way inside through the window.

As soon as you got in, you sat down on his chair that could spin.

You tried to go on your phone to check the time, only to remember you left it on your bed earlier.

Hobie walked in, holding a cup of water "Coulda’ just used the damn door, you know."

You spun around in the chair playfully "I don't believe in using doors!"

"Good. Neither do I. Doors are overrated." He leaned on the wall next to him.

You guys fell into silence. Not an awkward one, but a comfortable one.

You stood up, stretching "Wanna get outta here?"

"thought you'd never ask." Hobie grabbed his guitar, and you both walked out

Your family was at the dinner table.

Dicks leg was shaking, and Bruce was staring at the spot you were supposed to be seated at.

Everyone else's conversations were still going on, but there was a slight linger of your perfume there.

It was ironic that even after years most of your family didn't notice you were gone.

They were halfway through their meal when a portal popped up close to them.

Their eyes all widened as you fell in your suit, crashing into the fancy glass table, fighting a green goblin, Hobie not far behind.

While you were trying to push Green goblin back into the portal, you looked around to see your whole family looking at you, concerned.

"For fucks sake!" you punched Green goblin and you both fell into the portal again.

This just left your family with more questions than answers.

As they studied the now broken glass table, they also thought about the portal you fell through.

How many times has this happened?

How many times have you gotten hurt and they hadn't noticed?

A couple of minutes later, they watched as you and Hobie both fell through another portal, this time without the green goblin.

You flopped onto the floor and Hobie flopped onto the couch.

Dick started running to you about to ask if you were alright, only to hear you start laughing out of exhaustion.

Hobie got up from the couch and helped you get up.

You realized your family was in the room, and decided to introduce Hobie to them.

You grabbed his wrist "Uhm- this is Hobie, uh, is my friend.

"Your family watched as you nervously fidgeted with hobbies studded bracelet.

Everyone stared at you awkwardly, and you just started walking to your room.

"Y/N-" Bruce started

You ignored him and started walking faster.

After an hour or two, there was music blaring throughout the manor that vibrated through the floor.

Everyone could hear it despite having earplugs in.

It was time to put an end to this.

Jason started making his way up to your room, preparing himself for the worst.

He didn't even bother knocking, he just made his way in.

He expected to see you both sneaking out, smoking, or just anything bad as an excuse to kick Hobie out.

Only to see you and him gossiping and giggling while you were putting makeup on him.

Jason tried to make out what you guys were saying, but it was impossible due to the loud music.

Your spidey senses went off and you both looked at Jason.

Dick slightly flinched at you both looking at him in sync.

"Can you guys put down the volume? No one can sleep and it is 1 am." Jason put his hand on his neck

"Yeah, my bad." you put down the volume and continued gossiping with Hobie.

You felt his stare on you as he stood next to where you were sitting on the bed with Hobie.

You raised an eyebrow at him "Can we help you?"

He sat down next to you, only for you to scoot away from Jason and move closer to Hobie.

The room fell into an awkward silence until he finally left.

As soon as the door closed, you let out a sigh of relief.

"Jeez, can they hop off my dick for once?" you rolled your eyes in annoyance.

"tell me about it."

You started falling asleep towards 3 am.

You were trying to stay awake despite it being late at night (or early in the morning?)

Either way, you ended up falling asleep while leaning on Hobies lap.

Hobie smiled as he picked you up bridal style and tucked you into bed.

It wasn't the first and he hoped it wouldn't be the last.

He kissed your forehead and left through the window.

An hour or two later, Dick went to check up on you, only to see you peacefully sleeping in bed.

You had a black lipstick stain from Hobie on your forehead.

Dick frowned from that but started making his way out of the room.

That was until something caught his eye.

A guitar.

Not like the one you had, this one was red and had..unique stickers...

He grabbed it and made his way out of your room.

He could ask you about it the next morning.

i have a headache help

this took SO LONG im so tired help

this is ass lmfao sorry its so rushed it felt not rushed while writing it help

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