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anon-e-miss · 2 years

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The War's Bride

Prowl stood on the small pedestal as the detailer and her assistants spun about him. They held lengths of silken cloth against his protoform and debated their futures. Already, he was armoured, such as you could call it that. It would not protect him from anything. The bikini cut girdle covered his array, and nothing else. It did not even cover his aft segments but cut between them; he found it odd feeling armour. His chestplate ended just under his wells and tightly followed their shape. The thin black and white metal was inlaid with fine gems. It was the armour of a Polyhexian Bride. A bride was meant to be an Omega. He was neither Polyhexian nor was he Omega but he had been chosen from the Praxian host to go in bonding to the Polyhexian King of the Torus States to cement the peace between their lands. That Prowl was an Alpha, as their king was, had not troubled the Polyhexians and so, Prowl was to be an Alpha’s bride. From General to Ornament, it was quite a twist in fate.

“Yes, this is the one,” Hotwire, the detailer, declared, holding up a linen whiter than snow.

They placed a belt of gold inlaid with red and white crystals on his hips and draped panels of that linen over his front and back. The same linen was clasped to his shoulders and made to fall under his doorwings, already cover in gold mesh that was strung with crystals. Sleeves of the same linen fell from cuffs on his upper arms and connected to bands on his wrists. He was made to kneel so they could put the strung crystals on his chevron and connect the veil to it. The train was so long, Prowl thought it would be unmanageable but then, he was not meant to walk far, certainly not with the heels outfitted to his peds. Prowl did not dare move less he trip and the the linen, or the cuffs smear the ornate paint that had been applied to his protoform. Only the detailing on his face could not be smudged. Fine dots and line marked his face, the etchings inlaid with gold. They were the symbols that would mark him forever, whatever armour he wore, that Prowl was a bride. He had no idea what any of the symbols meant but the detailer had been very precise in her orders.

“The picture o’ a perfect bride,” Hotwire declared. “Surely fit for a king.”

There would be concubines, in time, Prowl knew. The Polyhexian king would no doubt have a harem of them to give him the heirs he would need to secure his dynasty. He could not be expected to gain them from an Alpha bride. Prowl looked at his servo, at the delicate paint that ran over the back of his digits, drawing attention to his claws which were also painted gold. The Alpha had always kept them capped; long claws were a status symbol for Omegas, not Alphas, to show how well they were looked after. If an Omega’s claws were chipped or rough, or filed down, it showed they were expected to perform manual labour. Prowl supposed his would be kept long and uncapped from now on.

He could not deny that he felt cyber-butterflies in his fuel tank as he was escorted to the litter upon which he would be carried to the temple. Prowl sat stiffly on the cushioned throne as he was carried down the road. Dancers, trumpeters and drummers led his way and mechanisms lined the road. Alongside his litter, groommecha threw coin into the crowd as guards in dazzling armour followed. This was his dowry, not paid to the king but to the citizens of Polyhex. It would pay for feasting for an orn in celebration of the bonding. He saw sparklings jostled by the excited crowds and he looked down to the groom closest to him.

“Lay coin in the palm of every sparkling and youngling you see,” he ordered. “See that none is robbed.

The groom did as he was asked and Prowl was pleased to see the young receive a share of the boon of his dowry. He was both fascinated by and detached from the spectacle of his procession. Prowl had spent his adult forms largely in the background, overseeing and directing battles. His strategies had earned him accolades from the Crown for a period, though his methods had not earned him great love from his soldiers. Generals who led from the front tended to earn the love of worship of their subordinates. They also died in greater number and Prowl’s best work was done when he could see everything around him. He had never been able to find the perfect balance. Prowl thought he would have made a better scholar, perhaps than a commander, hiding behind his tomes.

Now he would rust as a bride. His litter was lowered to the ground and as the band struck a lively chord, Prowl walked gingerly along a deep blue carpet as he made his way into the temple. The king of Polyhex, Jazz of Staniz, waited at the altar, its surface draped with cloth. Curtains were drawn back and at the sight of them, Prowl flushed. This was where the bedding would happen, where this king would make him his bride in frame and spark. The temple was filled with the elite of Polyhex, their allies and Praxus. Delicately, Prowl walked past them and made his way to his groom. Priests spoke blessings in an ancient tongue. Prowl stood tall next to his groom, the king of Polyhex would have been shorter than Prowl without the heels and with him the difference in their height was that much more distinct. The priests called for Prowl to take his place on the altar. As the curtains closed around it, separated Prowl and his royal groom from their audience, Jazz pulled back his veil and kissed him gently.

Jazz unclasped Prowl’s chestplate and set it aside. He did the same for Prowl’s bikini girdle. Nakedness did not trouble Prowl but in general but this was a different dynamic than he had ever faced. His royal conjunx cupped his wells as he kissed him. On the other side of the gossamer curtains, the bonding guests and priests waiting, singing psalms and burning incense. Prowl willed himself to relax as his kingly conjunx touched his frame. The paint smudged as Jazz, his conjunx, traced the symbols and Prowl realized it was intentional. It seemed like the paint had been a great deal of work for such a limit show. Jazz’s touch slowly but not so slowly grew Prowl’s charge and he moaned softly against the king’s lipplates. He felt his conjunx smile. His servo was between Prowl’s legs; Jazz stroked his node and behind his seal, Prowl felt his valve grow wet and he flushed. Of course, as an Alpha, Prowl had made some use of his spike but his valve had never been touched. His flush darkened as Jazz stroked his folds as they swelled and bloomed away from his sealed centre.

“Relax,” Jazz whispered in his audio. “I’ll break yer seal with my digits, so I can prepare ya better. It’d be a bad omen if I tore ya on Primus’ altar.”

It was a fair concern. Prowl shivered as his spike began to pressurize as Jazz continued to fondle his valve. Alpha valves did not lubricate the same; neither did they stretch as easily as Omega valves. More preparation was required to prevent damage. Jazz lowered his helm to Prowl’s well and kissed and then sucked Prowl’s nozzle. There was a wet sound as Jazz’s digits broke passed his outer seal and stopped just within Prowl’s untouched core. It did not hurt but it felt strange to have these digits inside of him. Prowl panted with increasing force as Jazz sucked and mouthed his nozzles at the same time as he gingerly tested Prowl’s tight valve. He stroked a cluster of sensory nodes and biolights at the roof of Prowl’s valve and the Alpha bride gasped as his valve tensed and a rush of lubricants sprayed from his centre. His spike stiffened against his belly but that did not seem to bother his groom.

“Good,” Jazz purred as he massaged that spot within Prowl valve, causing his valve to lubricate to an obscene degree. The king sank his digits deeper into Prowl’s valve, stretching them apart as he tested Prowl’s elasticity. “So responsive. So wet.”

Prowl watched as Jazz stroked the length of his turgid, Alpha spike with the bride’s own lubricants. His length glistened with them and still the king pressed his digits deep into Prowl’s tender core and gathered more lubricant. The bride’s jaw fell open ever so slightly at the sight of the behemoth the other Alpha was lining up to his tiny valve. Jazz lifted Prowl’s legs from where they had been dangling over the altar and held them up as he made the first push in.

“Ah!” Prowl gasped in shock as his valve was breached by so thick a spike.

His folds hugged Jazz’s girth as Jazz stood patiently still. Prowl wriggled his hips as he tried to adjust but he knew more was coming, he could see the vast majority of the other Alpha’s spike remained outside of his frame and he gasped like a cyberfish out of energon. Slowly, the king rocked his hips and work more of his great length into Prowl’s small, narrow channel. An Omega’s valve channel was naturally deep but Prowl’s was not. Jazz physically stretch him to his natural limits and still beyond. An Alpha’s plug was far firmer than an Omega’s but with only a fraction of his spike buried in Prowl valve, Jazz popped his plug and plunged his spike into Prowl’s gestational tank. It was, like Prowl’s valve, undersized but as Jazz began to actively frag his tank, battering his walls, Prowl’s internals stretched and shifted. Jazz forced every last micrometer of his spike in Prowl’s tender frame, making him ache with fullness. Faced with Jazz’s spike, Prowl’s valve was made to stretch, to lengthen until all that remained, pressed against Prowl’s taunt folds was the other Alpha knot.

They could surely hear Prowl over the psalms they sang, as he cried and squealed as he was remade on the other Alpha’s spike. His wells bounced on his chassis as Jazz took his due. Prowl’s jaw hung open as he gasped and grunted as the king sawed his spike in and out of him. The incredible ache as his frame was forced to shift and to stretch to take Alpha spike made Prowl sob and shake. Tears fell from his face and snot from his olfactory ridge as the other Alpha thoroughly dominated him. There was pleasure in the agony, however and, Prowl’s peds curled as the sensations overwhelmed him and Prowl overloaded with a cry even as he sniffled. He wailed, shrill and broken, as Jazz broke him on his knot and locked them together. Prowl shattered as he overloaded, his spike sprayed his belly with transfluids.

His belly, already bulging just with the king’s spike, swelled up as his small gestational tank was filled with Jazz’s spend. Prowl sobbed, overstimulated, overwrought as Jazz’s reservoirs emptied into his belly and forced his gestational tank to expand as the Alpha’s knot prevented even a drop of transfluid from escaping Prowl’s aching valve. Jazz bared his spark and Prowl mirrored him. As Jazz brought them together, their coronas merging, Prowl’s gamma cluster was ground against his knot. Even as Prowl’s spark meshed with the other’s, Prowl felt his nodes and biolights flash and his optics rolled back as he shattered again, overloading, seemingly endlessly as the other Alpha merged with him. He was limp, utterly strutless before Jazz slowly withdrew his spike and spark. Prowl was dazed and exhausted and he could not imagine how he was to be expected to walk.

“We ain’t done just yet, Lovely,” Jazz crooned, helping him sit up. “Still got the rest o’ the ceremony and then the feast.”

“Oh Primus,” Prowl moaned.

#war's bride #alpha/apha #a/b/o dynamics #getting fragged again #tf prowl #tf jazz #arranged marriage #cultural differences #valveplug #maccadams

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kelprot-old · 9 months

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forgot how bad the splatfest matchmaking is. good bye!

#i will get. one single splatfest rank up. and then i am not touching this shit again !!!!#i am not a good player i should not be topping fragging every time. and yet #180 seconds to get into a match and my team is full of A ranks and we are up against X ranks SOMEONE cry for me NOW

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simm-mouse · 1 year

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I have a handful of Nervous doodles for today. Got some kid Nervous, the bunny one was actually made on Easter

I'm finally at the Central station in The Sims Urbz. Well I was playing I was thinking about Nervous. Since I draw him with earrings later on when he's free, where would he go to get his ears pierced? Why Mary's Puncture Parlor of course. Here Nerv is faced with two of his fears, getting stabbed and women. However today he's trying to overcome one in order to get his ears pierced. But his fear of women is preventing him from staying still. Kidd Chaos ends up doing it, after it's over Nerv feels fulfilled. At least he got over one fear for today

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moe-broey · 3 months

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I am This Fucking Close 🤏 to blowing this whole island up (Animal Crossing: New Horizons)

#I'M. BORED. AND NEED A DO-NOTHING GAME #my island is super cute but my god. i made. choices. mostly w my house tbh it's cute yeah #but i do think i'd do things completely differently on a new save.#split between wiping everything and starting from scratch or asking for help moving some things #and then wiping and picking em up later....... but also i think part of what i wanna re-experience #IS collecting things again.#but do i really wanna get blue roses from scratch again. do i reeeeeeally wanna do that again LMFAO #but also maybe a middle ground would be just dropping things like that and materials (esp star frags)#i did make a dream address but also i wanna see if i can perfect it. not the whole island per se #it's as good as it gets. i am not doing more here.#BUT it WOULD be ideal. if i could get a meteor shower summer night setting.

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beenthere-neededthat · 11 months

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The ferocity with which I want to reread mtmte/ll has such a chokehold on me

#transformers #maccadam #humor #fisara’s scrawlings #macaddam #mtmte #ll #I am…. struggling #I know if I go down that rabbit hole again I’m only going to get depressed about how despite my love for alex milne’s work #I cannot emulate it to save my life #because of all the fragging DETAIL #and I actually would like to read ALL of the idw continuity but I know I’d get so overwhelmed

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lord-shitbox · 1 year

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Beating Hollow Knight Steel Soul: A Guide

part 1: general tips!

if you're about to die hit esc/pause and quit to menu

#shitboxposting #hollow knight #this is a joke post but it's also dead serious i have both steel soul achievements and it's because i mastered the art of pausing &#quitting when i was a hit or two away from dying. just drops you safely back at your most recent bench without wiping any progress you made #you still keep all the geo youd gotten etc. this is also good for fast traveling when speedrunning (ive done all speedruns too)#tip 2 is be aware of what enemies you struggle with and avoid them until you can level up. never be afraid to quit and come back when #you have more masks/nail dmg / charm notches etc #i definitely made an outline of where to get all the mask shards/vessel frags/pale ores /completion %s (thank you hk wiki)#and only went for the ones i thought i cld handle #brooding mawlek and the collector i put off until id gotten most upgrades. traitor lord i did not touch at All.#also WATCH OUT if youre fighting enemies that do 2mask dmg hits you need to quit at 2masks because thats when itll take only 1 hit to die #made that mistake once and Never Again

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hallucinateonpaperspines · 8 months

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Have you ever thought how in that one episode of TFP where Ratchet is high on robot steroids and launches a single servo attack on the Decepticons, and no one knew who he was?

Like Knockout thought he was some hotshot new player, legitimately thought he was a brand new warrior that had been brought in. And he's an officer, someone who would be updated and aware (at least somewhat) of relevant information about the handful of Autobots that are on Earth and kicking Decepticon aft. It had been repeatedly referenced that Ratchet doesn't leave the base and Arcee even said something along the lines of millennia passing since he'd been in combat.

Can you imagine being a vehicon in that mine?

Someone not entitled to that extra information because you are a "highly trained" body shield and all of a sudden there's this new person? Just taking down EVERYONE? SCREAMING for Megatron to face him? Like?!?!? Who is this? There are like 5 'bots, who the frag is this person?

AND then you hear how he tortured a servant-class miner to get his info. Like, wtf dude, that's Decepticon low.

And then he disappears? Is never seen on the battlefield again? No confirmed death, just gone.

And then he shows up again working with Shockwave?!?!? Helps restore Cybertron?!?! DISAPPERS AGAIN UNTIL THE PREDACONS START ROAMING AND FRAGGING UNICRON LAUNCHES AN ATTACK?

Ratchet is a cryptid to the Nemesis's vehicon population and nothing can change my mind.

#tfp #transfomers #transformers prime #aligned continuity #tfp ratchet #tfp vehicons

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lets-try-some-writing · 5 months

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Has anyone really thought about the fact that Bumblebee and Smokescreen pretty much grew up during war? I am sure people have, but have yall really THOUGHT about how that must have fragged them up in the head? It hit me earlier today, but I can imagine that there are just a ton of little things these two do that made perfect sense during the war, but now that the war is over, look really odd.

Bumblebee I imagine was raised to be very conservative with energon use. It was a treasured resource and there was no room for him to be playing around with it meaninglessly. I can see him getting angry at his team, yelling at them about ridiculous energon use as though he were still on the front lines trying to save as much as possible in case of an attack. Smokescreen I think would have been trained to function on minimal amounts of recharge to the point of it being scary for normal bots now that the war is over. Him just wandering around on night patrol, his gaze on the horizon looking for the tell tale signs of seekers or artillery strikes. I bet it freaks Bee's team out a lot.

Also Bumblebee and Smokescreen getting Bee's team playing games that they think are normal and fun, but are NOT in any way either of those. Something like tag but if you get caught you are electrocuted in order to teach you to keep moving. Games where instead of a ball, actual weapons are involved in order to improve reaction time. Random bombing drills made "fun" by songs and marching. Being taught to defuse explosives while working to the equivalent of Cybertronian kahoot music. Not to mention the bedtime stories and legends these poor sparks were told. I 100% believe that Megatron and the Cons were the boogiemen of their early lives.

So many things they see as normal, such as cleaning a weapon as a soothing action instead of, I don't know, going on a walk. Checking the security feed as their version of a break. Doing drills in the morning rather than having any fuel since again, fuel is precious.

So much crap that they think is normal but slowly realize is not and is just their wartime trauma.

I think I will write a fic about it to be honest.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #transformers rid2015 #bumblebee #smokescreen #fic ideas #post war cybertron #yeaah I have some thoughts #this is going to be part of a new au methinks

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onestopfanficshop · 1 year

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a fish with a bowtie

a simon "ghost" riley x reader blurb part two here!

no shock that i have fallen for yet another tall, muscular masked man. nothing new here! 😭

warnings/author's note: it feels so good to actually be able to write again omg. i included a very poorly drawn floor plan of the house in my head so you can visualize it better- nothing worse than not being able to see a story in your head! just some language and unreasonable amounts of fluff. your call sign is sparrow. simon being simon. gif not mine

word cound: 2100

"If any of you get boot prints on my tile, I swear to God…" you threaten weakly, kicking your shoes off at the door. The team knew better than to argue. You had saved their asses back at the warehouse breach–and unfortunately, you also took the brunt of the damage. Your head was throbbing, and your legs threatened to give out at any moment beneath you. The team had been successful with your help, but the attack was loud. They figured they'd lie low for a couple of days and let the smoke clear, but they needed a safe house. You debated it for a second before reluctantly telling the boys that you knew a place.

Unluckily for you, that place was your house.

The team silently marveled at your home. It seemed to be a perfect reflection of you but also not at the same time. For someone that claimed to be no frills, your couch sure did look fancy. But your collection of vinyls matched up with all the music recommendations you'd give them between missions. Soap geeked out over the movie posters you had framed around the living room, and Price squinted at your coffee table decor. He never took you for a candle person.

"Is that an original Back to the Future poster?" Soap asked in awe.

"Mhm…" you mumble distantly, racking the fridge for food. You zone out on the bright lights of the fridge for a second before letting out a grim chuckle. Of course there was no food. You were barely ever in this house– if you kept food in the fridge, it would all go rotten. Seriously, how fucked up was your brain right now?

You decided to search for the pantry next. It was mostly empty, save for a few spices and boxes of tea here or there. Your eyes searched the shelves until you found what you were looking for: exactly five bowls of nearly expired Hot-and-Spicy ramen soup, which was just enough for you, Soap, Price, Gav, and Ghost. You thanked whatever higher power might exist out there as you stacked the bowls on top of each other, carrying them close to your chest to avoid dropping them.

"I have the finest delicacy here for you, boys," you say humorously. "Three Michelin stars,” you continue, earning a laugh from Soap and Gaz. You set the bowls down on the kitchen island, keeping one for yourself. You tear open the lid and untwist a water bottle cap, pouring the water up to the ridged line inside the bowl. After you poured the tiny packet of dehydrated vegetables and chicken, you stick it into the microwave and lean cross-armed on the kitchen island, waiting for the three minutes to pass. The rest dutifully follow your lead, taking turns with the microwave built into your kitchen and the other one that was plugged in on the counter.

"Dinner" was eaten in relative silence. Not that anyone could hear anything anyways (you really needed to tell Soap to go easy on the frags before you all went deaf). You were too busy eating your soup to notice the team sneaking glances at each other and then at you, Ghost most of all.

After you all ate, you pointed everyone to their rooms. Soap went straight away, which is how you could tell he was really exhausted. Price and Gaz sat on the couch debriefing for a while before they headed to bed, too. Only you and Ghost were left. You were lying on the couch, half-tuned in to some old-time game show on the TV. Ghost sat on the loveseat to the right of you, polishing his gun and sneaking occasional glances at the TV—and at you.

“Shit,” you exclaimed suddenly. Ghost halted his movements, watching as you got up to a sitting position, closing your eyes.

“What is it?” he asked you quietly, finger moving instinctively to the trigger.

“No, I’m fine. I just… I just remembered I have to wash my hair. It’ll be a fucking miracle if I don’t collapse in the shower,” you sighed. “It’s a whole process, and it’s gonna take forever, and it’s already late… I’d better start now,” you finish, rubbing your eyes.

Ghost sat for a moment, contemplating what you said.

“I’ll do it for you.”

“What?”

“I mean—only if you want. I could. Over the sink or... something.” It’s the first time you ever heard Ghost sound unsure of himself, and it completely threw you off.

“Are you... sure?” you ask, staring at him.

“Positive,” he replied, staring back.

“Okay… I’ll be right back,” you say, moving towards the stairs. Once you were in your bathroom, you grabbed everything you would need: a towel, shampoo, conditioner, and your beloved shampoo brush.

When you got back downstairs, you found Ghost ungloved and running water in the sink, absentmindedly touching his fingers to the stream of water as his eyes were fixed on the TV. It occurred to you that he was making sure the temperature of the water would be okay for you. You weren’t entirely sure why your stomach got light at the sight of it, but you stubbornly decided to ignore it.

“You ready?” he asked, eyeing all the stuff you were carrying.

“Mhm,” you say, setting everything down on the counter. “I’ll just lie like this over the sink to make it easier for you,” you tell him, lying down and pulling your knees up on the unusually long kitchen island. The size of the island had been something that drew you to the house when you were house shopping, even though you weren’t home enough to cook on it.

“Is that a torture device?” Ghost said, jutting his chin at the shampoo brush sitting on the counter as he got your hair wet.

You laugh for the first time all day when your eyes land on what he’s gesturing at. “Far from it. You kinda just use it to get the shampoo into my scalp. Probably my favorite invention.”

“Your favourite invention?” Ghost repeated to you.

“Yeah. What’s yours?” you ask him.

He’s silent for a minute as he squeezes the shampoo onto your hair and works it into a lather.

“Electric kettle,” he responds finally.

“You Brits and your tea,” you say fondly, laughing to yourself. Ghost let out a sound, and it took you a second before you realized he chuckled. He laughed. You had never heard him laugh before. You decided you liked the sound.

“What’s your favorite kind of tea, Ghost?” you ask, closing your eyes. He had started using the shampoo brush, and it felt like heaven. You could feel the grime and dried blood dislodging from your scalp; you didn’t even want to see what the sink looked like right now.

“Black tea, maybe earl gray. But I’m not picky,” he shrugged. His eyes narrowed at the nape of your neck where he saw a thin line of blood.

“You have an interesting cut back here, Sparrow.” He started rinsing out the shampoo as he carefully moved your hair aside to examine it further.

“Well, shit,” you say, sighing louder than necessary. “How bad is it? Is it stitch-worthy? Am I gonna make it?” you ask sarcastically.

“No stitches. You’ll live. Unfortunately,” Ghost deadpans. You roll your eyes at him just as you notice his hands aren’t in your hair anymore. You turn your head to see him squinting at the conditioner bottle.

“The hell is this for?” he asked.

“The conditioner?” you replied incredulously.

“I know what it is, it’s just—why is it separate?”

You squint your eyes in thought, trying to understand what he meant when it suddenly clicked.

“Simon…” you say, a wicked grin spreading on your face as you move up to a sitting position, carful not to drip water everywhere. His eyes shot down to look at you. That got his attention. You almost never called him by his actual name. “Please don’t tell me you use it.”

“Use what?” Ghost pressed, getting mildly annoyed. Oh, how he wanted to wipe that stupidly adorable annoying smile off your face. He hated not being in on a joke, even if he rarely showed it.

“On today’s true crime episode,” you say, grabbing the conditioner bottle out of his hands to use as a makeshift microphone. He crosses his arms at your antics, seeming oblivious to the fact that he was getting water and eucalyptus-scented suds all over the arms of his uniform.

“We’re looking at one of the most prolific criminals out there, Lieutenant Ghost. It’s terrifying, it’s horrifying, it's downright disturbing. What are his crimes ,you ask? Using two-in-one… shampoo and conditioner,” you finish, lowering your voice for dramatic effect.

“Fucking hell,” Ghost rasps, voice tinged with exasperation. “Am I not supposed to?”

“No!” you whisper-shout, mindful of your sleeping teammates. “Shampoo strips all the oils from your hair and conditioner puts moisture back in! How could one product do that simultaneously? I mean, seriously, Ghost,” you say, squeezing a generous amount into the palm of your hand before smoothing it over your strands. “It’s common sense.”

“It’s not common sense. Tedious and unnecessary is what it is,” he replies gruffly, watching you put the conditioner on. “So what, you just–put it on, and… leave it there?”

“Yeah… I usually leave it in for 15 minutes while I do other stuff but I’ll just let it sit for a couple minutes since I’m-” you pause, yawning. “Tired.”

“Do you want me to wash it out for you?” he asks, his voice going unusually soft.

“Yes, please,” you responded, lying back down so your hair was over the edge of the sink again.

His fingers thread through your hair, ridding it of the last traces of conditioner. You force your eyes closed, trying not to think about the fact that Ghost’s face was mere inches away from yours. You felt something cold brush by your face, and your eyes shoot open to see the gleam of his dog tags dangling over you.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbled, tucking them back into his uniform like it was nothing.

Like it didn’t just get your heart caught in your throat.

You can feel his hands wringing out the water in your hair, strong enough to get your hair dry but not strong enough to hurt you. In a final act of pure kindness, he takes the towel sprawled out on the counter and throws it over your head.

“Done,” he says nonchalantly, ignoring your muffled protests from under the towel. When you finally get the towel off and tie it around your hair, you see him standing by the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the wall and watching you intently. Suddenly shy, you pull a stray blanket off of one of the chairs at the island and wrap yourself in it as makeshift armor from his icy gaze.

“You going to bed?” he asks as you walk up. You spin on your heel to look back down at where he’s still standing, arms crossed.

“No. I was actually just about to go for a six mile run,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes. “You should go to sleep too, Ghost. I could see your beady little eyes fighting to stay open at the dinner table.”

“My eyes are not beady.”

“Whatever. I’m going to bed. You can stay up until my neighbor's rooster Fish starts crowing if you like,” you say, fighting off another yawn.

“Your neighbor has a rooster named Fish?” he asks, amusement tinting his voice as he starts up the steps after you.

“Mr. Stricker is a strange man,” you reply. You’re met with a few seconds of silence as Ghost catches up to you.

“What do you call a fish wearing a bow tie?” he questions.

“Oh God.”

“Sofishticated,” he continues, not missing a beat. You were not expecting the laugh that erupts from your lips, and you clamp a hand over your mouth, wary of the rest of the team sleeping right above you.

“That was so not funny,” you say, clearing your throat in a poor attempt to cover up your smile.

“Mhm. And yet you laughed,” Ghost replied. Even in the dim light, you can spot the glint in his eyes. You’d like to think that under his mask, he was smiling too.

He fell into step with you now, his hands brushing against yours as you two made it up the rest of the stairs. There was plenty of room for both of you to walk without touching each other, but you didn’t pull your hand away.

Neither did he.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #mw2 #modern warfare 2 #ghost x reader #onestopfanficshop

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kagscore · 3 months

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𝜗𝜚 playing games with the boys

feat. isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin note. this is self indulgent because i wanna play league with nagi i fear ૮꒰⸝⸝> <⸝⸝꒱ა i hope you enjoy ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

⊹˚. ᡣ𐭩.𖥔 ݁ ˖ playing rocket league with 𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐘𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 looks like . . .

the two of you sitting in his bedroom, you curled up in his lap as you hold the controller. he holds your hands with his, moving the controller and pressing the buttons for you so you can get a grasp of the movements you need to know. slowly but surely, he lets you take full control and quietly cheers for you as you score goals and block them in his favorite game—car soccer. he's almost brimming with excitement at the idea of teaching you all sorts of tricks—flip resets, [insert other terminology]—anything so that eventually the two of you can play duos together and dominate the game. shows you how to decorate your car, the types of cars you can get and laughing when you ask if you could just drive a vw beetle instead. gets himself a second remote to play on his xbox when he thinks you’re finally starting to get the game and trying to cheer you up when you lose your first game duo’d together.

“you sure you wanna keep playing? i know it isn’t the easiest thing in the world…” “i think it’s so cute you wanna get good at this game baby, of course we can play when you come over again.”

⊹˚. ᡣ𐭩.𖥔 ݁ ˖ playing league of legends with 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 looks like . . .

nagi absolutely tossing you in headfirst into aram, knowing that you won’t get kills or assists and will die a lot but absolutely sweating his balls off so that he can still carry you to a win. you ask a lot of questions about who you’re playing, who you’re playing against, your abilities and ultimates and just generally what to do and him answering every single question you ask with patience and a soft explanation. sometimes you do questionable things in game, but he just laughs and says it’s okay. congratulates when you finally figure out who you want to main, celebrates when you get your first kill, and even buys you that skin you want as a gift for taking the time to play a game with him and spend time with him. always rerolls his character in aram, trying to find someone you like and getting a bit teary eyed when you recognize his favorite character to play once.

“it’s your favorite character, babe, swap me for them.” “i know you’re new, but please stop dying to tower. i’ll even take us out for dinner, i’m begging.”

⊹˚. ᡣ𐭩.𖥔 ݁ ˖ playing valorant with 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍 looks like . . .

rin trying his hardest every game you play together to be the top frag to impress you subtly, and him avenging you every time you die because how could he let his person die without killing the person that killed you? drops you his gun skins and even switches them when you guys wait in queue to skins you prefer—if he doesn’t have the skin you like, he always gives it to you when he finds and kills the person with it in a game. goes into deathmatches to one v. one you to try and help you learn the mechanics of the game and the shooting. if anyone is rude to you in a game, he’s immediately cursing and hexing their family and generational lineage in his head/in chat. he doesn’t like talking in game, but will if it means defending you against everyone else being mean because you’re bottom fragging. buys you your first skin after you get your first kill and periodically logging into your account to buy you more and surprise you sometimes.

“you should try a duelist if you want to get more kills, my love.” “now we just need to get you an ace, and we can do something special.”

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archie-sunshine · 2 months

Note

Sorry if this is a bit long I got carried away, your stuff is pretty inspiring.

Buuuuut imagine-

Ratchet getting tired of the back and forth. The obvious flirting from Wing, and the oblivious jealousy from Drift. He decides to do something about it.

He invites Wing into the hab one night and they end up cornering Drift. He ends up agreeing to a threesome. (Though he's half convinced that Wing’s just trying to show him up in front of his Ratty. He's determined to come out on top this time.)

Ratchet thinks a threesome is a good idea because yes, it'd be hot. BUT ALSO- what he's got planned might finally convince Drift that he isn't gonna run off with an even crazier hippie than what he's already got, (he likes Drift for Drift damnit. All of him, even the ugly. If only the kid would believe it) and maybe if they team up on him he might realize that Wing is flirting with him.

Wing thinks it's a great idea because Primus has blessed him this day, he gets to Frag his hot ex with his hot ex's hot conjux? Maybe even with some bullying I mean training to top it off? Yes please.

When the time finally comes Drift has half a mind to back out, because he recognized that look on Wings face. Except his stubbornness has kicked in something fierce, and he can't back down now, he's got something to prove. Besides, he's convinced that they would just frag without him if he left now (they wouldn't, they're here for him whether he sees it or not)

Of course his intuition proved correct, when after Wing had wrestled him down to the birth (despite Drift trying his best to get on top the smaller arena and fear of breaking something put him at a disadvantage), and had gotten his panels open he didn't lay into him like what Drift expected. Instead Ratchet started giving explicit instructions from his favorite chair.

His favorite watching chair.

Wing follows each and every one perfectly. Even when it means bringing Drift to the edge again, and again, and again. (And how does that bastard have so much stamina, isn't this driving him crazy too?!) He loses track of time, track of how many times he's been brought to the edge and back. It feels like an eternity. His array is throbbing, everything burns like sweet fire in time with each spin of his overflowing spark, and it hurts he's become so sensitive. The safe word is right there, but he can't back down. He won't back down. But dammit all to the pit! Ratty is never this mean when it's just the two of them.

Something about watching Drift with Wing has brought out something evil in his conjux, and he's starting crying with desperate overstimulation, and his knot has become so obvious between his legs, and it's humiliating. It's just like with Rodimus in the training room all over again except-

Except when he looks over Ratchet isn't ignoring him, isn't even looking at Wing at all. Even as he gives each new order. He's looking at Drift. Tracking his every move, every change in expression, the brightening flare of Ratchet's optics timed perfectly to another delayed overload. Gripping his spike hard but barely anything more. Not even self servicing he's too focused on Drift. Like Drift’s the only one in the room. Like Wing isn't even there.

It's too much. When Drift finally overloads he's knocked into a reboot. He wakes up just in time to feel Wing reach his own desperate overload, as his old mentor chants his name like a prayer.

so this- hrhhgh. this ask inspired me very much actually.

anyways here you gooooooo please enjoyyyy this comic i whipped up <3<3<3<3<3

the imagery of wing repeating drift's name was really important to me actually.

#archie answers #my art #my requests #mtmte #valveplug #drift #ratchet #wing #driftwing #dratchet #dratchwing #/nsfw #/nsft #lemon #dacryphilia

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kelprot-old · 2 years

Text

i love days when i dont have any work to do because i wake up then get on splatoon and black out for 3 hours

#i've been trying to get better w the bamboo and gootube and its ????#im v inconsistent with them. LOL #i got games where i top frag w like. 15 kills ??? which is good for me w those weapons #but others where i'll barely escape a negative k-d it's FOUL #oneday i will be the master of the bamboo.#i dont even like it that much it's just unconventional and therefore really funny to do well with #so in THAT sense i guess i do like it. my girl #look i mained elit back in splat1 and splat2 DECIMATED my ability to control the game's bumass camera properly #so i abandoned p much any hope of being a charger main in splat2. played a bit of gootube but that was abt it #HOWEVER. whileim a splatling main in my heart in splat3 now i DO think the input delay in this game is much better #probably only a few milliseconds but. its still enough of an improvement that chargers feel GOOD to play again #which is awesome. as long as u dont think abt the hordes of new elit mains that kill u without thinking #massive props 2 them i cant even get mad when they kill me anymore bc its fuckijgn impressive as hell

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helios-sol · 1 year

Text

Cold Love, Warm Blood

Pairing: König x reader

Summary: König needs to be patched up. You’re there for him.

Warnings: injury, blood, kissing, excessive use of the name “big guy”, unspoken feelings and unexpected kisses, lil’ bit of spice.

Notes: i really didn’t expect to start writing again, ESPECIALLY for call of duty but here we are. This is brought to you by the idea of hood kisses with König that a friend and I couldn’t stop thinking about. If you want to be in my mind while I wrote this listen to Aqua Regia by Sleep Token.

The call had come in little after midnight followed by rushed orders for a field medic down to the emergency wing. Considering that you were the only medic on base at the moment, you’re the one stumbling through the door half asleep. Lieutenant Riley had filled you in before you’d stepped through the doors but nothing could have fully prepared you for what’s on the other side.

König sits slumped on the edge of the bed, sniper hood completely blood soaked and shredded to bits. Based on what you’ve seen in the field there’s a strong possibility that most of that blood is not his.

But you know, Riley told you all you need to know.

You approach slowly and König barely looks up. You notice his fidgeting, thumbs twiddling and leg bouncing.

“Hey- König-“ you speak softly, like you’re talking to a wounded animal.

His gaze is feral and you feel like you might actually be dealing with a wounded animal, spooked and looking for a way to run.

“Hey- I need you to lift your hood for me, okay big guy?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Your words don’t register in the slightest. König clenches his hands into tight fists before drumming them on his thighs.

Your hand reaches towards his hood and you speak loud so that he knows what you’re doing.

“I’m going to lift your hood, I need to get you patched up.

König catches your wrist before you’ve even reached his face.

“Lass mich das machen.” He rasps.

You nod in agreement.

Slowly he removes his helmet and sniper hood all while avoiding your eyes.

The only thing that you can even think to say is-

“Jesus Christ, König. What happened?”

His expression falls and he’s back to nervous fidgeting.

“Frag grenade. Got sprayed with shrapnel.” His voice wobbles.

His face is a jigsaw of blood and scars. There is a fresh gash, starting near his cupid's bow and running up towards his right nostril. His left cheek is busted and a black eye is blooming, forcing his eye to swell shut.

Your heart aches. You’ve become so close with König over the last year working with him. You know that he’s increasingly aware and self conscious of how he is perceived without his hood. He’s explained that he prefers the anonymity of it, wanting to keep his identity to himself and those that he trusts. You’re a lucky one that he trusts, which is why it stings to watch his face fall at your reaction. You know he asked specifically for you upon returning to base meaning he trusted no one else to help him.

Your fingers shake as you gently grab his chin, tilting his face towards the warm overhead light. He still avoids your eyes, opting to stare at a blank space on the wall. You don’t take it too personally. You know how it is coming down from an adrenaline trip.

“It looks like all you’ll need is some stitches and a really good night's sleep.” You attempt to smile.

He hums in response.

You turn to the side and grab your med kit before wedging yourself between his thighs. Even with your stool all the way up it is still a struggle to reach certain spots on König’s face.

“Can you lean towards me?” you ask, squinting as you examine his upper lip.

König leans down and you adjust the overhead lamp so you can see what you’re doing. The silence as you set to work is comfortable and you notice König has ceased his fidgeting. That alone makes you breathe a little easier. You won’t push him with questions, lord knows he will get enough of them in the debrief. But you do find yourself curious enough to ask just one.

“Ghost said you asked for me specifically,” you pulled your thread taught, “why?”

“You were the only one on base.”

He’s a terrible liar. You can feel his pulse quicken under your hand.

“Hmm. Sure that’s it?” you push the question just a bit further.

“No-” he hesitates, hissing as you pull too hard on accident, “I wanted to see you.”

He isn’t fully ready to admit that he was scared so shitless that he thought he’d never get to see you again.

“I’m glad you did come see me and didn't attempt to be a tough guy about this.” you tell him, tying off your stitches.

You move on to cleaning up his minor scrapes and cuts, careful of his bruised cheek. His one good eye has finally shifted to look at you, watching you work. You catch his eye just before he looks away and smile at him. He might be blushing but it’s hard to tell with all the shit his face has gone through.

“Alright big guy,” you pat his thigh before rolling backwards in your stool, “you’re all patched up. Try to take it easy for the next day or so. I don’t want you pulling the stitches on your lip.”

He nods before standing to his full height.

“Danke,” he murmurs.

“Bitte.” you smile at him.

You turn to chart something but König catches your shoulder. You crane your head up to look at him but he’s stooping down and pressing his lips to yours before you can even get a word out. He keeps his hands well above your waist, placing both of them on your shoulders in a respectful manner.

But nothing is respectful about the way he’s kissing you, hungry and desperate. You taste copper on your tongue and you know he just pulled the stitches you just did but you don’t care because he’s pushing you up against the counter like he’s trying to become a part of you.

“Es tut mir wirklich leid." He apologizes when he pulls away, trying to back away from you. Your hands press into his chest, gripping his tactical vest, and keeping him in place.

“Why are you sorry?” You pant, gazing up at him. His eyes soften and you realize there’s a bit of green in the blue of his eyes.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I should have asked.” He murmurs. You watch his tongue poke out and lick at the blood that’s running from his stitches.

“Shit, I pulled my stitches.”

“No sweat big guy.” You breathe deeply, “I’ll stitch you back up and send you to Ghost for debrief.” You nod for him to sit back on the bed.

“Thank you.” He bows his head, cheeks ablaze.

You smile as you sit back down to re-stitch him up. The silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable but König began to bounce his leg again.

“Hey-.” You duck into his view, “don’t bounce so much I don’t want to hurt you.”

He stops and instead begins to fiddle with his fingers again until you’ve finished. When you tie off your work and toss your gloves König is already pushing himself to his feet and making his way to the door, grabbing his hood and helmet and placing them back onto his head securely.

“Hold up there big guy.” You stop him at the door, striding right up behind him.

He turns and you grab the front of his hood to bring him down to your level. His eyes widen in surprise, words caught in his throat as you lift his hood just past his nose and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Come see me after debrief.” You mumble against his lips, licking at the freshly stitched wound.

“S-sure-yeah-“ König stutters, eyes drooping like he’s kiss drunk already.

There’s a bang on the door and König goes flying backwards from you.

“Hold your horses Riley, he’s COMING.” You holler out the door.

“It’s a bloody busted lip! How long could it take?” Ghost yells back.

You smile up at König before pushing him back towards the door.

“Get outta here before we both get our asses chewed out.”

König smiled sheepishly before ducking out the door and hollering back at you “see you doc!”

#konig fluff #konig x reader #cod x reader #konig x y/n #mw2 x reader #könig imagine #könig x reader

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static-radio-ao3 · 2 months

Text

@jegulus-microfic // february 26 // prompt: bed // words: 1,241 // cw: referenced sexual content // part 1 + part 2

“Barty, who’s at the— oh.” Regulus stops short.

“He was just leaving,” Barty says, then turns to James, “Weren’t you, Potter?”

“It’s fine, Barty, I’ve got it,” Regulus says, shifting so he can slip past Barty and come to stand right in front of James.

“You sure?” Barty asks. He maintains eye contact until Regulus nods. “Okay, well, don’t do anything stupid. Just yell if you need me.”

And with that, he turns to head back inside. Regulus is fairly sure he only walks down the hall so he can listen in, but he doesn’t mind it too much. Maybe he won’t jump James if he knows Barty is right there.

He regards James for a moment, wonders what he’s here for. His eyes frag down James’ form, but unfortunately, he doesn’t flinch under the scrutiny. And unfortunately, James looks good. Again. Or still. Either way, it’s doing dangerous things to Regulus resolve.

“What are you doing here?” He asks finally.

The corner of James’ mouth tugs up in a half-smile. “Hi, baby,” he says, and Regulus hates him. Hates that he looks all boyish and charming. Regulus wants to kiss him. No, kill him. Definitely kill him.

“James.”

“Yeah, sorry.” One of James’ hands comes up to scratch at the back of his head. “Um. Why wouldn’t Barty let me inside to see you?”

The question is sobering. Annoyance sparks in his gut and Regulus is getting tired of this game. Of this dance where they so clearly are avoiding the issue at hand, spinning around it until they’re so dizzy they can’t see anything but each other.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest, a fickle attempt at a barrier and shoots James an unamused glare. “Because you cheated on me?”

James’ face falls, confusion marring his features, wrinkling his forehead. Regulus has the urge to smooth it out. “What? When? And why?” Disbelief soaks his voice and now it’s Regulus’ turn to be confused.

“What?”

“Why would I cheat on you?”

“What?”

“Regulus, baby,” James sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you broke up with me because you thought I cheated?”

“You never corrected me!” Regulus splutters. He thinks back to the day they broke up, to the fight they had. The quiet resign when Regulus ended things. His friends had told him the silence was confession, but he’s not so sure now.

“How was I supposed to? I didn’t know.”

“I— You didn’t?”

“I didn’t cheat or I didn’t know?”

“Both!”

“Obviously not!”

James is closer now than he was a moment ago, close enough that Regulus could reach out and touch if he wanted to. By God, does he want to. This is exactly why he didn't let himself see James at all those first few months. He needed to build up tolerance. Resistance. But what good did it do him? He still ended up on his knees almost immediately.

The urge to touch makes his fingers tingle, a buzzing in his veins that he can't ignore.

“Well, it wasn’t obvious to me!” Regulus squeezes his eyes shut, embarrassment making it hard to maintain eye contact with James. There’s no way they broke up over nothing. There’s no way Regulus never confronted him, never gave James the chance to explain.

He opens his eyes again, sees James gnawing at his bottom lip. He looks softer today, more worn. The bravado and cockiness from their last two encounters nowhere to be seen.

“Regulus, what even gave you the idea…” James trails off, lets the end of the sentence hang in between them.

Regulus stares at the ground, at the scuffed toe of his shoe. He remembers the day well. Had made dinner for two and packed it so he could eat with James at work.

“I came to see you at the office because you were working late again and I overheard the new hire say that she fucked the guy who was training her.” Regulus’ heart had dropped right out from his chest and shattered into a dozen pieces when he heard it. He thinks he left a few behind.

He takes a breath, steeling himself to continue, but James cuts in with an excited, “Oh my God, Frank and Alice fucked? That’s why they disappeared during team drinks!”

“Frank?”

“Baby, Alice had two people training her. She wasn’t talking about me. Ask Frank if you want to be sure, but— Wait. Pause. Sorry, you fell into bed with me thinking I had cheated on you?”

Heat floods Regulus’ face. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Say no!” James sounds indignant.

As if it were easy to say no to James Potter. James with his messy smile, joy spilling from the corner of his mouth. James with his bright eyes and bright laugh. James with his warm hands that know just how to make Regulus writhe.

“Yeah, well…” Regulus racks his brain for any sort of defense, but he is only met with the image of James' naked form. “You thought I broke up with you for no reason and still slept with me!” He counters.

Now it’s James’ turn to flush, embarrassment making the tips of his hears turn red. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Say no!”

“Love, we both know I was never any good at saying no to you.” James’ voice is low as he says it, like a secret or a confession, not meant for anyone else’s ears. Regulus reaches behind him to tug the door shut. Barty does not need to hear this.

Regulus considers for a moment. Looks up at James through is lashes. “Neither am I, apparently.”

“Sounds like a flaw.” James inches closer, crowding Regulus against the front door. The buzzing in his veins quiets. “You should probably work on that.”

“Yeah?” Regulus murmurs. “Now?”

“Mm. Why not?” Both of James’ hands come to rest on Regulus’ hips. Regulus lets his head thud against the door just so he can look at James better. The mole under his lip and the finger print smudged on his glasses. James never did clean them well.

“Okay.”

“Can I kiss you?” James asks. His breath hits the side of Regulus’ face and Regulus can’t help but shiver.

“No.”

James’ fingers tighten their hold on Regulus, but he doesn’t lean in. Instead, he asks “Do you still love me?”

“No,” Regulus says again.

James huffs a laugh, forehead coming to rest on Regulus’ shoulder. Regulus’ hands come up to card through James’ hair. It’s comfortable. Familiar.

“Liar.” The word is muffled in the fabric of Regulus’ shirt. Then, “Will you go out with me?”

Regulus pretends to consider, but they both know the answer. “No more mistakes,” he says. “Just you and me.” And like any good promise, he seals it with a kiss.

---

is that a phone in your pocket or are you happy to see me [group • 4 members]

reg: so there may have been a slight misunderstanding

reg: pandora, you can delete the list

pandora: no, it’s my magnum opus

evan: besides, i still stand by page 29, paragraph 3, subsection 7

barty: yeah what kind of man wears crocs unironically

evan: exactly. is this the man you want to be with?

pandora: and don’t think i’ve forgotten the pizza night incident

reg: he just had pineapple on his pizza, please let it go

pandora: no

barty: absolutely the fuck not

evan: never

#messy exes 3: no mess too messy #they are a little bit stupid but it's ok #many thanks to rose for helping me sort out the break up <3 #starchaser #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #jegulus microfic #mil's microfics #mil's writing #my writing

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fallenneziah · 1 year

Text

Dating the Transformers Decepticon Boys.

Some little headcanons for some of the boys.

Shockwave:

Small hand in big hand, small hand in big hand!

Shockwave is reserved. Once in a relationship with you he has to come to terms with the emotions he thought he would never feel again. So he takes his time in coming to know both you and these new ideas and feelings that are surrounding him.

He's horny.

Despite being alone most of the time and focusing on his sciences, Shockwave will not pass up a single opportunity to get down in the berth. At first he would not interface at all, but now he likes to get in time at least once every couple of days, a week at most.

He's jealous. Easily too.

Another emotion he isn't used to it jealously, so when someone does something to turn that switch, whether it be talking, staring, or touching, he will lose it.

Everyone is already pretty scared of him, like Soundwave, he doesn't need to say or do much to make a point. But he will strain his stance above yours and shadow you with his structure. He'll burn his look into their soul until they get the hint and scurry.

His love language is gifts. He loves to present you with his projects and make different things for you. And he won't say it, but he will cherish every little trinket you bring him in return.

Behind closed doors when his work is put out of the way he is very affectionate. He wouldn't say it but he never thought you'd want him in a berth because of his lack of s left arm. But you two got around it and you make sure to nestle little compliments into your conversations.

Knockout:

One hundred percent the guy who will come around behind you as you use his tools and guide your hands while whispering the instructions in your ear.

A tease.

He loves to drop subtle hints around the Nemesis and will kiss you around the hallways.

Everytime you come back from a mission he urges you to the medbay and will look all over you for scratches or dents. Same before you leave, he wants to make sure those puny Autobots see his sparkmate at their best.

He is a tease, but he doesn't have as high a sex drive as someone like Predaking or Makeshift for example. He enjoys a good frag, but blow jobs under the operating table are his favorite kind of intimacy.

He is very jealous. Not in an insecure way, he is very sure in his image. However, he doesn't like when others make sly compliments about your frame. Sure, they can tell you how amazing your paint is or the curve of your hips, but if it's anything explicit he will be very upset. He'll threaten them with his blades, "If you want one so bad, why don't I give you a new look!" Or something along those lines.

If he's feeling more chill and sly, he'll walk over during the conversation and slip his servo against your hip plating. He'll caress your waist and watch with the smirk of the devil as the mech or femme slowly comes to realization.

He loves when you compliment him. His love language is words of affirmation and gifts, so you'll find a miniature version of his vehicle mode next to your bed or some other kind of trinket.

Predaking:

Very, very, very protective.

He makes sure to put any unworthy mech or femme in their place. The second anyone - even Megatron looks at you funny it is on.

He has a very high sex drive and will often leave you locked in your berth for hours just so he can love on you. He's mindful of your body however. He'll make sure to mark you his up and down your frame from your neck cables to your ankles.

He was eager to learn about you when he met you. He found an instant attraction and his long dormant mating protocols would roar to life every time you looked his way.

He will court you with shiny objects he finds. Often bringing back sharp scrap metal or rocks. He adores giving you gifts, but touch is his love language.

He could sit in his bed and hold you close until the world exploded. As long as you are with him he feels at peace and confident.

He was very shy around you at first. He wasn't a clumsy doufas, but he would show off his strength by straightening his stance and glaring down other mechs. He enjoyed showing off his beast form in front of you and would act so confident and put together. The second you opened a conversation with him. The poor boy couldn't put a sentance together he was so embarrassed and nervous.

Predaking is un-fucking-touchable. When the Vehicons or the commanders see the markings along your frame they steer clear. If any unlucky 'con is so dumb enough to get on Predaking's turf and even attempt to court his mate it's over. There is no point in running. Death in inevitable.

Either that or he will beat them to near death.

Once your back in his arms he'll hold you close the rest of the day and growl lowly at anyone who comes near.

The only person he trusts to be around you is Shockwave. As a predacon he is constantly in protect mode and anything that is his will be protected until he dies.

Megatron:

Megatron took a liking to you quickly. You caught his eye with how fluent you were with your tasks and how reputable you were on the battlefield.

Only the most powerful and fit can be his mate, and he thought you were perfect. So, he decided you were his. He wasn't exactly sure how to get your attention or how to work a relationship all that well. So he just started telling the vehicons you were his until you found out. When confronted with the facts he seemed only slightly embarrassed and more confused. "Yes..?"

You told him you'd think about it so Megatron let it be. Manz is impatient as fuck. He was so head over heels for you that if you couldn't make your mind then he would court you.

Poems. Poems. Poems. EVERYWHERE.

He would leave them on your desk, in your room, anywhere he knew you would see it. With respect of the vehicons because if they caught him being such a simp it would end his career.

He doesn't have the highest sex drive, but he enjoys fragging as much as the next 'con. Once he gets you in his room he will keep you there until he sees fit for you to leave. And whatever happens in that time happens.

He's also less of a jealous person and more protective. If someone makes s suggestive move or talks to you in a certain way he will act. Commanding and assured he will back them off and get you in his arms to protect you.

His love language is words of affirmation. He will praise you when you have done something good and you do so in return. He definitely enjoys it.

Starscream:

I can't decide between these two so I will leave them here... He is either super horny all the time, or, like Megatron he has a lower sex drive but once in the berthroom it can last quite a while. Round after round.

He gets flustered around you easily. He'll stammer and try to appear smaller and more innocent like he does when he is in trouble with Megatron.

Once he gets his hands on you however he is a tease to Cybertron and back. He will whisper words in your ears while you work or give your aft a pinch as you're walking by.

He doesn't hide your relationship either. Every seeker that exists knows of you two. He's not afraid to be open and deliberate about how you two are.

Therefore, most on the Nemesis are aware you are taken and busy themselves elsewhere. Those few who do might just get away with it.

Starscream is the most jealous out of everyone on the Nemesis. He is very insecure about himself and everything in general. All he is confident in are his dumb plans and his backstabbing ways.

Of a much larger mech attempted to court you he might just leave you to handle it. You're capable of saying no right? And if you don't then he'll be spark broken.

If it's a Vehicon or a seeker he will feel much more confident in himself. Often times using his rank to boss people away from you and back to work. But when he can't hide behind his rank he gets much more nervous. Overall, you're kind of on your own if things get physical.

"You scratch my back, I scratch yours," His love language is definitely acts of service/favors, and words of affirmation. He loathes getting praises and is a sucker for the treatment. But he also enjoys doing favors for something in return, and vice versa.

Soundwave:

An absolute cuddle bug in bed. When no one is looking he'll scoop you up in his large arms and hug you against his chest.

He never confessed his attraction, you came to him. He refused to confess, but he would leave you sweet notes and quotes from popular poems whenever he could.

He acts cold and distant but you know better. Soundwave isn't a mech who is known for his emotions. He does not speak and you are not an exception. The relationship can often feel one-sided and conversation is limited, but you find peace in it.

Your relationship is way underground and no one even suspects that the two of you are into each other. So when someone asks you out nervously on a date, you couldn't blame the guy.

Soundwave isn't jealous. He has learned to work around his emotions and has very good control over his outbursts. So before you respond he'll reply, "Negative." In a deep, almost threatening voice. Usually followed by you apologizing and explaining you are already taken and going about your business.

It's simple.

But if you are defied and they continue to push, he'll simply get Laserbeak to chase him away for a while.

You are very appreciative of Soundwave and all that he does for you. He love to kiss his faceplate and around his collar fins. And he enjoys it. He'll lean info you and purr happily as you kiss along his jaw.

Soundwave's love language can differ from time to time, but he most enjoys quality time with you. Even if he's working and drowned out in tasks he enjoys the presence you bring to the cold room. If your rambling on he'll do his best to listen.

*********

Apologies for any spelling mistakes :/

#starscream #megatron #soundwave #shockwave #headcanon #headcanons #knockout #transformers #writing #x reader #megatron x reader #soundwave x reader #shockwave x reader #starscream x reader #knockout x reader #predaking #predaking x reader

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sprout-fics · 10 months

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Ghost and Gaz have barely any interaction in MW2022, and it makes me curious about what the relationship is like between them. They’re both part of the same taskforce, and based on the way Ghost immediately recognized Gaz, they’ve met at least once before. Based on the missions in the game, it’s possible that they’re almost never worked together before. Still, I like to imagine how they might interact off-screen or in a more casual setting. This is a bit of my interpretation of these two.

Personally, I think Gaz heard about ‘The Ghost’ long before he signed on with Price. The rumors about Ghost were often exaggerated, and Gaz could tell that. As a result, he probably dismissed Ghost at first as some type of arrogant prick or a gritty edgelord. To his surprise, Ghost was neither of those when they met. Instead he was this huge, silent, lurking man with a clear respect for Price and a cold, leveled stare for Gaz. Quiet, abrasive when he talked, but incredibly skilled and dangerous.

Still, I imagine that Gaz, perceptive as I like to imagine him, had a moment where he and Ghost met eyes for the first time. It was then that Gaz realizes those rumors weren’t just fiction. The cold, unflinching weight of Ghost’s stare on him, devoid of life and yet promising a distant, imminent end has a shudder running up his spine.

Bloody hell. He thinks. He’s actually dead.

It may not have been the case canonically, but I like to think Ghost and Gaz ran a few missions together pre Las Almas. Same with Soap, though that’s a different story. It was through these missions that Gaz was able to witness Ghost truly in action and see the full, lethal effect of him in action. The man uses a blade like a butter knife, doesn’t flinch under fire, can snap a man’s neck like twisting a bottle cap. I think it both startles Gaz to see, but damn if it doesn’t instill a healthy amount of respect (and fear) in the sergeant.

On Ghost’s end, I imagine he sniffs at Gaz at first the same way he does with Soap. A young, lucky, upstart sergeant that has some experience under his belt but has yet to see the full and startling scope of war that he and Price have. He’s seen the man’s file though, and the fact alone that Price trusts him to such an extent is good enough for him. Besides, on those first few missions Gaz does more than haul his weight. He demonstrates his aim, shows his clean, practiced maneuvers, obeys orders with little question, drags a marine from the line of fire and compresses down on his wound, and tosses a frag grenade right back to its sender.

Yet it’s after the successful mission that Ghost sees Gaz bump against Price with that big, pleased grin that Ghost gets it. While Price was the one to drag him back, to help Simon put himself together again into something mildly resembling human, it isn’t the same. There’s a warmth between Gaz and Price that he feels almost like he’s intruding upon, a bond that goes beyond mentor and mentee and easily passes into the realm of friendship. The more Ghost looks at it, the more he sees what Price sees in Gaz. Intelligence, drive, dedication, but above all loyalty.

It’s something Ghost wishes he had more experience receiving.

Ghost goes off on a number of solo missions, Gaz continues working with Price.

Then there’s the missiles. Hassan. Las Almas. Shepherd. Graves. The mask. Chicago.

When the dust settles, there’s Makarov.

I don’t know how all of the team recognizes Makarov, and honestly I think it’ll be more interesting to see how that happens. I do like to think the team starts working a little more closely in the months that follow in-game. Ghost and Gaz start getting used to each other, start learning each other’s habits.

Ghost knows that Gaz is an early riser, that he likes his coffee black. Gaz knows Ghost likes to have his meals in his room where he can not only eat in peace, but without others staring at the litany of scars that snake from his jaw up to his eyes. Ghost learns to take Gaz’s needling jokes, and Gaz gets easier at offering them. Gaz learns Ghost hates certain foods, and realizes it’s because they all have the same kind of grainy, sandy texture that brings back bad memories. Ghost helps patch things over with Price when he and Gaz have a disagreement, and Gaz recognizes when Ghost is slipping back into old, bad habits that drag him down into something rotted inside him.

They start leaning on each other more often. Ghost patches Gaz up after Gaz takes a bullet to the thigh on a mission, and easily tosses him over his shoulder to carry him to safety. Gaz gets better at seeing the fractures that belong less to Ghost and more to Simon, and begins to understand the man underneath the mask. He learns to recognize Ghost’s silent and dangerously subtle ups and downs, and knows better than to show his surprise when Ghost starts wearing his mask less often just around the team.

Gaz gets Ghost Kentucky bourbon for his birthday, giving him space on the anniversary of his family’s death. Ghost learns about Gaz’s family, his two nagging older sisters and his dad, retired from the military. He sees Gaz’s smile when he talks about the people waiting for him when he gets home, and Ghost silently vows to himself to make sure he gets Gaz back safely. The bond there never runs as deep as Gaz has with Price, or Ghost has with Soap, but there is trust there built on oaths, brotherhoods, bonds, and the same loyalty Ghost always craved from the people around him.

Gaz learns to recognize when Ghost smiles under the mask.

#simon ghost riley #simon 'ghost' riley #kyle gaz garrick #kyle 'gaz' garrick #mw22 #cod mw22 #ghost/gaz #drabbles #headcanons #and scene #I could say more but honestly this is probably enough for now

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