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ittybluebell · 3 months

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Roommate | Daredevil G/T | Chapter 1

AO3

Matt Murdock didn't have anything against mice. He'd never been personally harrassed by one, but he understood the need to get rid of them. One easily turned into a dozen and with all the mess and digging into food, eviction was necessary. Despite how many rodents he heard daily, it wasn't something he thought about. The only reason mice were on his mind now was because one had moved into the floor, and he could hear it moving around as he laid in bed.

Now, like he said, Matt didn't have anything against mice.

Scrtch-scrtch-tick.

This one, however, was pushing its luck.

It showed up one night, moving in when he was out vigilante-ing and he only noticed the next day. At first, he didn't care. It was alone and hadn't yet realized there was food in his apartment. He had other, more pressing issues than a single mouse. It was a benign little thing - hardly a problem. Most nights, he could ignore the pitter-pattering and scraping or put in his noise-canceling earbuds.

Tonight, the mouse was too loud for earbuds. As he tossed and turned, Matt fumed, wondering what that rodent could possibly be up to. Rearranging furniture? Fuck, it sounded like it. Little mouse furniture.

Enough was enough. Matt threw a pillow at the floor and told the thing to shut up. To his surprise, it did. Matt sighed and finally went to sleep.

From that night on, he noticed a drastic decline in his downstairs neighbor's noise pollution.

How silly it was, Matt thought during a good mood, holding a grudge toward an animal. Especially one that was polite enough to let him sleep in peace.

Oh, how naïve he was.

The mouse quickly reinstated its grudge status when Matt noticed things going missing. It started with the bagels - a hole in the bag he noticed because the scent of bagel was particularly strong. Upon investigation, he discovered there was a complete lack of crumbs. And a chunk discreetly chewed from the middle. From there, things escalated. He smelled the shift in the air, smelled the remnants of another living being in his apartment. Little objects went missing - things even a seeing person might miss. But not Matt Murdock.

The sock was the last straw.

"What's the best bait for mouse traps?" Matt asked as soon as he entered the office.

"Cheese?" Foggy answered, confused. "Why? Do you have mice?"

"One. One mouse."

"How d- nevermind. Let me guess - you can't sleep."

"It's taking my stuff."

Foggy laughed. Karen huffed.

"At least tell me you're using non-lethal," said Karen. Upon his silence, she aww'd sadly. "Matt, no. It's just a mouse. You can't kill it."

"They're pests," said Foggy.

"But they're so cute. It just wants a place to live."

"Karen-" started Matt.

"No, no, she's got a point." Foggy spun his chair around. "Matt, you can't kill it! So cute and fuzzy!"

The lawyer-by-day, vigilante-by-night groaned. "Fine, I won't. Just stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Foggy, I can feel your eyes fake-tearing up."

Matt bought some glue traps and baited them with peanut butter. When Karen told him glue traps were worse - "They're so inhumane, Matt!" - he assured her that he'd know when the mouse got stuck; it wouldn't suffer. As much as the thing annoyed him, Karen was right: he wasn't going to abandon his no-killing rule for one mouse. (One mouse that must have a vendetta against him. He would not stoop to its level.) What kind of hypocrite would he be, huh?

The traps were set. Now to wait.

And wait.

A week passed. No mouse was caught. When he listened to its movement, he realized it was avoiding the spots he'd trapped. Avoiding the usual routes.

Smart. For a rodent. But Matt was smarter.

More traps, different bait. Traps disguised as the food and objects he'd noticed go missing, even the mate to his missing sock. It couldn't resist now.

Days passed.

Evidently, it could resist.

Foggy teased him about being outsmarted by an animal. Karen was on the mouse's side. Somebody must've told Jessica because he got a condescending text offering her services. Traitors, every one of them.

It all came to a head one terrible Friday night. Matt was already in a bad mood when he got home from work but going out, hearing and feeling New York City, pushed him over the edge. He was annoyed, his brain was overstimulated, and he just wanted to rest. The rooftop access door shut behind him and he threw his helmet into its trunk, about to shed the rest when the distinct sound of scratching and plastic crinkling in the kitchen cupboard caught his ear.

Matt stilled. It was here.

He marched with purpose toward the sounds.

That little bastard wasn't getting away this time. Catching it would be a satisfying end to a crappy day.

The mouse started fleeing before he was even close. It was headed for the other end of the cupboards - a hole in the floor Matt wasn't aware of but now could sense the air flowing from within. He'd have to seal that in the mor-

Mice didn't run on two legs.

Matt cocked his head, listening to the pattern of footfalls. He'd never cared to pay attention, but now it was impossible to miss. He knew what scurrying rodents sounded like. Whatever was in his kitchen, it was no rodent. It was bipedal. A bird? No, not with that speed. Not with that gait. He needed a closer examination.

Matt threw open the cupboard door. The first thing to hit his senses was the scent of corn chips.

The second was the heartbeat.

The creature's heart pounded swiftly in its chest. Air rushed from a mouth that was too upright for any kind of animal, a nose too humanlike. Small shoes hit the baseboard as it ran. Fabric rustled the same way he heard every single day in the street - like clothing.

Matt got lower, needing to be closer, needing to examine this little anomaly. How it moved, how it sounded, how uncannily familiar it was.

The living shape that his senses created was so alike to people that he was too shocked to outwardly react.

The little thing escaped into the floor, and Matt Murdock was left crouching there. Slowly, he shut the door. He took off the suit, dressed his wounds, and went to bed, his mind racing.

His body was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. Not when he was tracking the creature's movements. Every scrape, every soft thud of a step, the whisper-

Whispering?

"You're fine. He didn't see you. There's no way…"

Whispering. Okay.

Matt pretended he didn't hear anything and put in his earbuds. That was a tomorrow-Matt problem.

Unfortunately for tomorrow-Matt, another problem knocked on his door first. That problem rhymed with Stank Hassle and didn't like to be ignored. Frank did offer coffee when they left so at least it wasn't a total bust. It was a good opportunity to get Matt out of his head; to get a clear perspective of the night before. Matt decided he was exhausted and hallucinating. The alternative was a tiny person living in the walls of his apartment. Delusion was easier.

Delusion was also what kept the borrower from abandoning the apartment altogether.

Call them stubborn, or stupid, but Finch didn't want to leave. Borrowers could only get so lucky. Landing a decent apartment with an oblivious bean was a rare opportunity, and Finch had no intention of giving it up. They would use this good fortune. Even if they didn't deserve it.

Finch shook off the guilt following that thought.

They spent the first week setting up: finding a place to sleep and tidying it up, living off the rations they packed. They got a lay of the land, surveying the apartment and its infrastructure. The excessively bright billboard directly in front of the living room window, the kitchen, and - most importantly - the bean. Light - or lack thereof - was never an issue for him. Not once did he flip a switch or so much as use his phone, which read texts aloud to him. He hardly looked at whatever claimed his attention. Everything added up to limited vision, but they couldn't be sure. It was safest not to risk any assumptions.

Evidence pointed to some damn good hearing when Finch was carving planks of wood out of the floor's innards. They were minding their own business, content with their repetitive, calming task, when something large and loud impacted the ceiling a dozen paces away.

The borrower nearly jumped out of their overalls, giving a startled squeak.

"Shut up," yelled the muffled voice above.

Pretending their soul wasn't just violently expelled from their body, Finch smoothed down their curly brown hair and exhaled shakily, making a mental note to postpone noisy work till the bean was away.

And they did good on that: when the bean was home, Finch completed the quieter, slower tasks. They thought they'd discovered the formula for living under the radar, satisfied to have found a routine that worked.

Then the traps appeared. Finch cursed their luck. The jig was up. The bean set up gross glue traps in outer access points, a couple even getting to the paths Finch took. Finch avoided them and laid low for a bit, hoping the lack of activity would convince the bean they'd skipped town. But more traps appeared. Smart ones, too - they almost fell for a couple. Now, Finch knew a thing or two about a thing or two. They made new routes and took extra care when borrowing. They even started mapping paths to the apartments below. Despite their small stature, Finch had a lot of room for determination. After a life of sticking their hand in the fire, they learned to take the heat. If the bean wanted them gone, he'd have to try a lot harder.

Night fell. The bean was gone. He followed routines - ones he scarcely strayed from. It would be hours before his return.

Finch made their way to the kitchen. They pushed up the trapdoor and strolled through the cupboard. They still had to be careful: just because the human wasn't home didn't mean they could throw all caution to the wind. Leaving evidence was a massive negatory. Finch didn't care for stupid rules, but the rules of borrowing were locked in their brain. They were already careless with the bagels, something they couldn't afford again. Desperation wasn't an excuse for sloppy borrowing - not when it exposed them.

Finch observed the boxes and containers around them, reading labels and calculating risk and reward. There was no chance of getting into that cereal box, but the nutrition bars would be a good grab. The box was short and already open. Finch pushed a can of tuna against it and hopped on. They began extracting a bar only to realize they had no way of getting something so large home without a sled.

"No, that'd be too easy." With a huff, Finch dropped it and shoved the can back into place. "'cause food can never be-" plastic crinkled under their foot "-easy?" Finch inspected the blue packaging. It was an open bag of tortilla chips. They grinned.

The scent of corn chips filled the space as Finch unfurled the bag. They dropped their backpack and started breaking the triangular chips into smaller pieces. Salt-free, too? Hell, yes. They tested the backpack's weight, put a bit more inside, then pulled the strings tight. They slung the strap across their chest. Oh, yeah, this would last them a good while. Finch fought with the chip bag, trying to roll the top underneath like it was before.

"Come on. Stupid fuckin'-" They tried to simultaneously lift the heavy bag and pull the other end.

Over the sounds of plastic popping and crackling in their ears, Finch didn't hear a door open and shut.

DOOM.

They did, however…

DOOM.

…feel the approaching footsteps of the human bean.

Finch froze. Blue eyes snapped wide open, their head flinching away from the plastic. It couldn't be...

Finch bolted.

He's supposed to be out why is he back-

DOOM.

They didn't need to know why he was back - just that he was and he was approaching at an alarming rate.

DOOM.

Oh, fuck, that's actually really close-

The doors ripped open. The hinges didn't even get a chance to squeak.

Finch stumbled. Air caught in their throat. For a moment, Finch was rooted to the floor. Just a moment. Long enough to see the human's form towering beyond the counter, covered in some kind of dark red leather. Long enough to see boots more than capable of squishing the life out of them.

Legs like fenceposts bent as the human came unbelievably closer. Closer than Finch had ever been to a bean. A giant face suspended above them, features blank and expressionless. Not once did the bean look at them.

Finch ran. They didn't look back. When they reached the hole in the floor, they plugged it up and kept going. Keep running.

Only when they reached the safety of their shelter did they falter.

"Oh, shit," they gasped, resting their weight on a nearby post. If their heart didn't outright stop, they were sure it might burst from their ribcage. Finch felt that exploding was a reasonable response. "He didn't see me." The scene replayed in their mind, over and over like a glitched tape. "I'm fine. You're fine. He didn't see you. There's no way he saw you. Just breathe."

Delusion, like they said. It was a powerful thing. It pulled many tricks on the mind. Like convincing oneself that they weren't discovered.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet, one might even say, if they weren't one Matt Murdock. He never got that phrase. Nothing was 'too quiet'. In his - correct - opinion, nothing was quiet enough. There was always something creaking, breathing, or thumping, even in the smallest hours of the night. But on some front he had to agree: there was a suspicious lack of activity from the critter in the floor lately. Reluctant as he was to admit it, he couldn't deny that it wasn't an animal. Animals didn't mutter to themselves, in full sentences, in English. He wasn't mentally, emotionally, or spiritually prepared to assess beyond whatever that meant. In the moments his mind wandered, however - such as now, sitting and listening to a recording for his current case - he found himself pondering the tiny being regardless.

The peace wasn't an accident. Finch had been avoiding that place, giving themself and the air time to settle. They continued work on their residence, slotting together panels of wood and cardboard to form walls. One room would do for now - they just needed protection from the elements and potential scavengers slinking around. Skies above, if a cockroach tried anything, it was next on the menu. Grind up the little fucker into a smoothie. Finch wished a bug would: it'd be miles better than those godforsaken tortilla chips. Finch gave the wood posts they'd just secured a good push, nodding in satisfaction and moving on to the wall. It would be the last one to seal up their box of a house.

Four days. It'd been four days since Finch was nearly discovered; four days since they stared a bean in the face and got away unscathed. Four days since they got an answer to what they'd only suspected: the human couldn't see. That explained the brilliantly bright billboard, the sensitive hearing, the lack of lights - it explained a lot. Finch had to re-evaluate their approach to borrowing. This human would be extra careful about his possessions - the sock was proof enough - and notice what was out of place. In some ways, this both simplified and complicated things.

But borrowers were nothing if not adaptable.

Finch ventured up to a peephole in the wall and looked out. Nothing had changed except the bean now sitting at the dining table, papers and an electronic box neatly laid out on the tabletop. Casually dressed, he was listening to… a podcast? No, too personal. Finch liked podcasts. There was a crime involved, but this sounded like a conversation Finch would overhear more than something designed to entertain. So this bean worked in solving crimes. A detective?

They listened to the dry as hell audio a scant longer before growing bored and moving on. Hey, at least the bean was preoccupied.

Naturally, they found themself puttering toward the kitchen. Wielding two bent nails tied to their belt, Finch climbed up the cupboard door, using hinges and decorative bevels alike to hoist themself up. Those bagels were good. Were there any left? Nothing but corn chips really wore down a person's capacity to give a damn. They perused the counter, confident that the bean was sufficiently distracted by his work. Finch was disappointed to find the bagels sealed in an airtight container. It was their own fault, slicing up the bag so messily. They pulled a face and resumed their search.

A plate of mostly-eaten pasta sat before them. Fuck yes! Finch scuttled to it, pulling out rolls of tinfoil from their bag. Careful to avoid crinkling, they gathered up all the leftover noodles and sauce that would fit.

Finch squirreled away their haul, licking their fingers clean of evidence and ignorant of the man listening to their heist just a few metres away.

Matt stopped paying attention to the tape some time ago.

The sounds of Hell's Kitchen couldn't drown out the little inhabitant in his walls. A scent had blown into the room, vaguely familiar with hints of tortilla chip. He sat straighter and listened, idly shuffling papers and tip-tapping his fingers on the table. He found himself unable to be anything other than impressed as they scaled his counter like a mountain climber. Whatever was left from dinner became his visitor's latest plunder. That was fine; less waste, right?

He was disappointed when they returned to the walls. He wound back the recording to get some work done, but found himself consistently distracted by his small neighbour's goings-on. This discovery was just so unique, so strange - how could he not be curious? He heard them venture out again, across the apartment now. Into his bedroom. What could they be doing?

Oho, if Matt found any more socks missing-

He turned in his seat, about to rise, when he heard:

"You hafta to be shittin' me."

The voice, quiet in size only and bold beyond that, was the mildly annoyed tone of someone who'd been inconvenienced. Matt had heard it before, in the late hush of the night, when no one else would. Muttered curses and remarks that blended into the creaking and groaning of buildings and chatter and sirens of the city. One voice that Matt Murdock had tried very hard not to think too much about.

"When is enough too much, huh?" the voice griped. "Does he think I'm just gonna lay on one? 'Oh, felt silly today, stepped on the massive rug of glue.' How 'bout I drag this onto your floor, see how you feel walkin' in a minefield?" They growled. "UGH. Beans."

Well.

There was no denying it anymore, was there? A tiny person was living in the walls of Matt's apartment.

Matt leaned back, processing. He'd tried ignoring it - for the sake of his mental health and faith - because it was insane. It was impossible. It shouldn't be.

And yet…

Matt wanted - needed - to investigate further.

He got up, quietly, light on his feet. He didn't make it two steps before he heard a swear and the tiny person retreated once more. Into an electrical outlet, by the sounds of it.

Hm. He couldn't sneak up on them - not this time. They heard him- no. Matt quirked his head, considering. They felt him approaching. Like Matt, they could feel vibrations. Vibrations that alerted them of a threat. It only made sense.

Heh, 'threat'. Regular ol' Matt Murdock was the threat this time, not his alter ego. Wasn't that something?

The next time Matt encountered his new neighbour, he was trying - and failing - to fall asleep. There was too much on his mind for sleep. Frustrated, he huffed and flopped over, restless, his thoughts racing. Sounds of the city were extra distracting tonight. He considered getting up and making a cup of tea - maybe that would calm his mind.

Noises from the kitchen drew his scattered focus. He sat up, listening to the scuffing and tapping that he'd come to recognize as his uninvited houseguest. Three visits in one day. Were they always this proactive? Well, he did interrupt their attempted heist of his bedroom. Matt scooted to the edge of the bed. He would make that tea, actually. As he stood, he remembered sneaking didn't work last time. Right. Heavy-footed. However, he had a hunch that this attempt would yield a sneakier result.

Aided by socks, Matt softly padded through his apartment. Tiny - the name he assigned his little visitor - was fiddling with some kind of packaging on the top shelf. And as he got closer, lo and behold, they did not startle. His theory was correct: the further Tiny was from the floor, the weaker their pallesthesia became. Their ability to detect vibrations just wasn’t as sensitive as his own. Once he stepped foot into the kitchen, Matt dropped the Daredevil act and let himself be known. He grabbed a mug and turned on the kettle. Tiny's pulse quickened; their breath hitched. He gave them time to hide before he opened the cupboard for a tea bag. He quickly realized the box wasn't in its usual spot - his own doing, unfortunately.

"Stupid tea bags," he muttered for Tiny's sake; an 'I'm not looking for you, I swear!' assurance as he searched the cabinets. For extra sauce, he added, "Always misplacing them."

Would he forgo tea? He did start the kettle… as much as he got a kick out of playing the part of oblivious blind guy, causing Tiny undue terror wasn't his end goal. He wanted to test them, their cockiness, not scare them. Tiny may be a thief, but they were just trying to survive. Why else was food their number one haul? Matt dedicated his life to helping people in need. Wasn't Tiny part of that demographic? Weren't they someone in need? Unless small people were running drug cartels and trafficking rings, Tiny was innocent.

Doubt and guilt crept in. Maybe he was pushing the bit too far.

Matt was just about to get up and leave when something square and coarse pressed into his fingers.

He faltered, then pinched it, rubbing his thumb over the material. Its strong, earthy scent gave it away.

A tea bag.

Small shoes lightly retreated. Matt withdrew his hand. He held the sachet of dried herbs, cogs turning in his mind. He tilted his head.

Tiny handed him a tea bag. That…

Matt found himself puzzled and oddly touched. It was for their own good, to avoid getting found, but he couldn't not appreciate the nice gesture. He easily smelt where the tea was, of course. But Tiny didn't know that. Huh.

Maybe he was being too harsh about the sock.

The kettle's bubbling pitch rose to a squeal. Wincing, Matt shut it off. He dropped the tea bag into the mug and poured steaming water over it.

What a strange experience. He wondered what Tiny was thinking. Their heartbeat eased into the fluttering pace that he learned was its resting rate. It was the trait that had him most convinced his roommate was a rodent of some sort, though the way they squeaked when startled was a close second.

Matt threw out the tea bag and took the mug to his room, leaving Tiny to their task.

The next day, he casually slipped questions about tiny people into a conversation with Foggy. (It was not casual and quite random, actually.)

"You mean, like… fairies?" Foggy cautiously asked.

Sort of? Matt didn't know whether Tiny could be considered a fairy. They certainly didn't seem like the fairy type, not with the kind of language he heard them utter. Did fairies say 'fuck'? Would that break some kind of fairy law?

Karen told him about a book series that she'd been obsessed with as a kid: it contained many smaller magical beings. Brownies, for instance. Matt settled on definitely not that one. What favours was he receiving? Aside from the tea bag - an isolated incident - absolutely none.

Matt wasn't convinced they were a magical creature. Really, they just… seemed like a normal person, albeit smaller. They hummed to themself, snickered at their own dumb jokes, and swore a hot streak that would impress even Castle and Jones. Matt was pretty damn sure they'd been building a house under his floor, though he noticed all the loud busywork was put on pause when he was home, most notably when he was sleeping. Another nice gesture that was also for their own self-preservation.

Maybe they were a mutant. Or maybe they were mutated, like him.

When Matt got home, he discarded the glue traps. It felt wrong to leave them now that he knew it was a person he'd been trying to catch. Guilty, he started leaving crumbs in easy-to-reach locations. It wouldn’t hurt him any - his grocery budget wasn’t gonna tank because of some scraps. If chips and leftovers were what they were after, then they had free reign over the countertop. That didn’t stop him from being cheeky about it, though - if Tiny was getting confident, he might as well play along.

He found Tiny’s courage something to marvel at. Roaming a giant’s home? Without fear? His vigilante persona was literally named Daredevil and he was impressed.

However, bravery and foolishness were not mutually exclusive. That’s when the cockiness came in.

Matt was minding his business, washing the dishes, when Tiny wandered out. Brows hitching up, he continued sponging the plate. Surely, they wouldn't-

Oh, but they did.

Unwavering, Tiny climbed up the counter they same way as before. They walked up to the pan on the stove and hooked a leg over. Matt fought hard not to chuffle. This was getting out of hand. Matt remembered an adage about not feeding animals or else they'd grow dependent. Had Matt inadvertently done exactly that? Animals that were accustomed to people often didn't see the danger. Tiny was certainly no animal, but the absence of caution they displayed in the moment was, frankly, ridiculous. It was a massive leap from the times they would flee his presence. He was starting to think he'd played too ignorant.

A smirk tugged at his lips upon hearing the leftover eggs being pilfered. When he turned to fetch the pan, Tiny was already hopping to the floor and disappearing behind the fridge.

Stealing right behind his back. When was enough too much, indeed.

AO3

#g/t #giant/tiny #goldfinch (oc)#matt murdock #daredevil g/t #giant tiny #the borrowers #borrowers #g/t community #gt #g/t writing #daredevil #marvel g/t #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #daredevil fanfiction

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pearl-gt · 4 months

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Haven’t posted in a while, so here’s a little G/T moment

Movie title: Ant-Man and The Wasp: Quantumania

Where to watch: Disney +

#g/t #gt #giant #gianttiny #tiny #giant/tiny #shrink #giant tiny #ant man #the wasp #marvel #mcu

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fandom-gt · 1 month

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COMMISSION TYPE: Full Page + Add-On x2 PRICE: 95 FANDOM: MCU CHARACTERS: Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes

REQUESTED SUMMARY: “you mentioned wanting to add a bit more to the Cock Ring Chronicles at the bottom of this post: (https://fandom-gt.tumblr.com/post/650691500542492672/i-want-to-add-to-the-prompt-where-steves-super) with some Stockholm Syndrome on Bucky's end. That + him dreaming that he's actually Steve's dick at one point (let me know if that's too out there) and him being on Steve's dick while Steve is doing some docking kink with Scott

WARNINGS: Objectification, humiliation, cock transformation

——

Bucky’s lost track of time. He knows better than most what it takes to be broken down and remade, he’s been through it before, but he’s pretty sure it took much longer last time — and he’s also pretty sure he knows why. He stopped counting after about a year, because time doesn’t really matter anymore like this. Not when you are what he is.

He broke and remade himself faster this time, because this is what he’s supposed to be. He’s with who he’s supposed to be with. After all this time, all these reaffirmations, every single day living and breathing it, he’s finally come to accept the fact that he is part of Steve’s cock. He belongs here, on it.

More than that, though… more than that, part of him has started to believe he is it. There’s no real separation, no distinction, between him and it. He’s pressed against it day in and day out, he flexes with it. They share showers, they share sex. He’s on it when Steve pisses, he’s sweating with it when they go for a jog, trapped deep in the muffled confines of Steve’s jock strap.

He dreams about it now, when he falls asleep. Dreams that when he flexes, he’s all of Steve’s cock, and as he tenses it goes hard. He dreams that he feels the pleasure Steve feels, and that when he’s rigid and locked up, the only relief he can find is when Steve wraps his hand around himself and slowly jerks off, squeezing him too tight, choking out pleasure and sweet relief until it comes spilling out of Bucky’s mouth, and he goes soft, and limp, and boneless in Steve’s hand.

And then Steve tucks him away, and he nestles there, spent, twitching occasionally in his place atop Steve’s balls. An extension of his body, sentient but mindless, aware of only a few objectives and needs that must be met and doing his very best to please the greater part of the larger organism that is his best friend, the ecosystem that is his body always all around Bucky. One small part of a larger whole, only meant to make his friend come.

He’s in the middle of one of those dreams when he feels the flesh he’s pressed against begin to harden. Once upon a time he’d have protested this, or dreaded it, but not now. It’s been so long, so many hundreds — thousands — of erections, it is instead by now a duty he’s prepared to fulfill.

He knows his part in this. It’s to wrap his arms and legs around that special, sensitive spot on the underside of Steve’s cock, to be an extension of it. A built-in little vibrating piece that helps things along, symbiotic almost. His job is to writhe there, hugging and grinding and rubbing, sending jolts of nerves straight up the root of Steve who, by now, has grown used to expecting them. His self-pleasing cock, always rubbing him off.

Something grips him through Steve’s clothes. He knows it isn’t Steve’s hand, because he’s intimately familiar with it now — he knows exactly how tightly Steve likes to grip himself, he knows the shape of those fingers almost as well as he knows how to be Steve’s dick. It’s somebody else, palming him over his underwear, roughly dragging the coarse fabric over Bucky’s back.

Steve won’t like that as much, he knows. Steve’s cock (Bucky himself) prefers soft things, wet things, although the friction’s nice, it could be better, and so with an air of dutiful resignation, Bucky wets his lips and licks as much moisture onto that spot as he can. Lubricating, because that’s what dicks do.

Distantly, the rumble of thunder above him means approval. It’s Steve’s groan, low and encouraging as it always is when Bucky does exactly what he’s supposed to.

The pressure disappears for a moment, and then a new rumble follows — almost as familiar as Steve’s voice, the sound of Steve’s zipper being dragged down and open. Light streams in, and an unfamiliar hand encroaches, fumbling clumsily with Steve’s erection still in the confines of his underwear.

Fingertips find him, and above his head, he can hear somebody with a slightly higher voice than Steve say, “Oh- I feel it, okay, that’s cool.” It’s casual, cavalier, chipper — he knows it from somewhere, he thinks, but it’s hard to tell. Things sound distorted at this size, everything’s deeper, everything has more bass, a resounding echo that carries like thunder over empty hills.

Steve’s erection is pulled free, finally, and he feels as much relief as Steve’s straining erection does at the space. It’s so confining in there when Steve gets hard, Steve’s dick always throbs impatiently, begging to spring out — and so does Bucky. Maybe he’s gone a little crazy in here after all this time, but it’s like he shares the same mind as Steve’s dick these days. They can read each other. He knows what it’s thinking, and it’s the same thing he’s thinking, because they are the same.

Now, he hangs from the underside of it a thousand stories from the ground, watching a pearl of precum slowly roll down the tip. He waits for it patiently until it soaks him, and then he writhes to help spread it, because that’s part of his role in this ecosystem.

Beyond Steve’s cock is a blurry landscape that slowly comes into focus as color whirls down and toward him — and then eventually, a pair of eyes become sharply in focus, bigger than he is, staring at him. Those he can actually put a name to: Scott.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding. Look at it, must be crazy at that size,” Scott says excitedly, “Maybe I’ll hop on there one day and find out.”

“Why are you talking to my dick, Scott?” Steve breathes in a raspy, compromised chuckle, faintly confused — like he’s forgotten the concept that Bucky can be spoken to, like he’s forgotten that part of his cock could speak back.

“Oh, I get it, is that like- a thing you guys are into? Okay, sure, I’m down.” Scott clears his throat and then, to Steve, says, “Boy, Captain America sir, this sure is a mighty fine cock you have here.”

As though to emphasize the point, he wraps his hand around both Bucky and Steve’s member and begins to stroke — shooting a wink at Bucky right before he begins to stand again, towering away and growing too distant for Bucky to see properly.

“You’re kind of a weird guy, you know that?” Steve says, not unkindly, somewhere a mile over Bucky’s head.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Scott doesn’t sound remotely offended. If anything, just a little preoccupied, and Bucky soon realizes what exactly he’s preoccupied by when a new blurry shape takes up the space where his face once was.

Another erection, obviously Scott’s, looms into view just past Steve’s tip. It’s nearly as thick as Steve’s is, uncut and soaking wet and pink, and it doesn’t stop its approach. Two titanic columns of flesh meet in the air as Scott presses the tip of his dick right up to Steve’s.

“You ready for this, little guy?” He hears Scott ask, and Steve scoffs.

“Don’t let anybody tell ya you don’t know how to stroke a man’s ego,” Steve says wryly, “Pretty sure it ain’t little.”

“Oh, right,” Scott says. “Sorry, shoot, don’t worry, I’ll figure it out. You ready for this- Steve’s… dick?”

“Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking.”

“Yeah, that’s fair. Okay, here we go, buddy,” he exhales, and beyond him, Bucky sees an avalanche. That’s the closest thing he can think of to describe it, the way an absolute sea of flesh begins to roll toward him, always progressing, never stopping, rolling over itself in its frantic haste to consume him.

Scott rolls his foreskin over the head of Steve’s dick and, it goes without saying by now, Bucky too. He’s entirely swallowed, encased in it, all light blotted out until the only thing his serum-enhanced eyes can perceive is flesh. The head of two cocks, slipping against one another as precum rolls down the two of them, and the thick pink walls that barely let red light dimly illuminate the space.

He’s squeezed, as he often is, by a hand — but with the new sensation of fleshy, soft foreskin between him and the knuckles. Two titans overhead groan, and slowly, the foreskin rolls back again, dragged away from him all the way up to his chest.

And then it rolls back, swiftly swallowing him as Scott begins a slick, filthy back-and-forth glide over his and Steve’s joined cocks. Both of them continue to leak, filthy and warm and thick, but it has nowhere to go, nowhere to escape to except over Bucky’s squished, struggling form. He can barely breathe like this, between he pressure and the precum and the skin dragging over his moth, his face.

Steve loves it. Steve’s dick loves it. It throbs so wantonly, Bucky can only sigh and concede to it, because at the end of the day, what it wants is what matters. Steve’s dick is hard, and it’s his job to make it cum, and so he does what he’s meant to. He squirms, and writhes, and above him he can hear Scott gasp.

“Holy crap, I can feel it movin’ around under there, that’s so fucking hot-”

The world is a blur of color. The squeeze gets tighter, the skin rolls faster, thick and deafening wet noises as Scott frantically begins to jerk them both off.

When they cum, one after another, Bucky is floating in a sea of the stuff, mouth filled, eyes squeezed shut, holding his breath for dear life for long, long seconds as rope after rope overfills this tiny pocket -— until, at last, Scott’s hand releases him and they both fall limp, hanging, dripping.

#commission #fandom-gt #scott/bucky/steve #stucky #mcu #g/t #tf #transformation kink #micro/macro #the cock ring chronicles

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 2 years

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Mouse Trap Mayhem

Loki x teen female borrower

Synopsis: Borrower Y/N gets caught in a mousetrap while trying to get food from the Stark Tower kitchen. What will happen when Loki catches her?

Warnings: this is my first g/t story so it could suck but otherwise nothing i think?? Reader injury (Broken leg, hurt shoulder)

The shock was utterly devastating. The pain was unimaginable. Y/N had no idea how she had ended up in this situation. She had taken the same path to the kitchen that she took almost every week. Only this time, there was an impediment.

She must have started taking too much food, the humans must have started to notice the crumbs and leftovers that she had been squirreling away. Of course they didn’t know what was really taking their food, so they went with the first conclusion that occurred to them. A mouse. And they had set mouse traps.

Y/N had no idea how she hadn’t seen the trap, but she was so focused on making sure that the kitchen was empty that she hadn’t been watching her step. Her job as borrower was so much harder than most, because there were so many humans living in the tower, each with a different schedule.

That wasn’t the problem right now, however. Her problem now was getting free of this mousetrap and finding a way to hide before a human decided to check the trap. Not an easy feat considering the weight of the trap, and the fact that it had probably broken her leg.

Y/N pushed with all her might, but could barely get the trap to budge. She became frantic, however, when she heard footsteps enter the kitchen.

In her panic, she finally managed to lift the trap enough so that the weight wasn’t holding her leg down, but when she tried to move her leg out from under the trap, the pain in her leg all but doubled, and the shock of the pain caused her to lose her grip on the trap. It slammed back down on her leg and she couldn’t stifle the cry of pain that squeezed past her lips.

The footsteps stopped abruptly. Y/N held her breath. Surely the human hadn’t heard that…right?

“What was that?” A man’s voice. British, deep. Scary. Y/N’s hands started to shake, but still she didn’t dare move. She saw a flash of green pass the counter in front of her, and by the time she blinked, it was replaced by a giant head. The urge to scream was overwhelming, but Y/N suppressed most of it, so that only a whimper came out as she began again to struggle against the mousetrap pinning her in place.

The giant in front of her grinned, revealing teeth the size of her whole hand.

“I told those idiots it wasn’t a mouse,” the man breathed. Then everything got ten times worse. The man’s hand, large enough to squash her easily, came at her and snatched up the mouse trap. She was now dangling upside-down above the countertop while the man—she believed this was the one the other humans called Loki—inspected her carefully. “You’re the one who’s been stealing food, eh?”

Y/N shook her head. She was so scared she didn’t know what to do.

Loki’s features twisted into a scowl. “I don’t like liars, small one.”

Y/N whimpered. What was she supposed to do? What would he do? Was he going to hurt her, eat her, keep her as a pet?

“I suppose I should let the others know I’ve caught our thief,” Loki muttered, conjuring a jar out of thin air. Y/N started struggling harder, pulling at the mousetrap with all her might. She did not like jars. “Now now, stay still little thing.” Loki’s voice came out as a growl, and Y/N shuddered, her fear freezing her joints. Would he hurt her more if she didn’t listen? There was no way to know.

Loki used his huge finger to pull on the mousetrap, and the weight on her leg went away instantly, and she was falling.

Falling right into the jar.

She hit the hard glass bottom shoulder first, and a yelp escaped her as pain shot through her arm. She quickly sat up and leaned her tired, beat up frame against the wall of the jar, her eyes wide and her whole body shaking as she stared through the glass at the giant peering at her.

“Such a strange little thing,” Loki muttered, turning the jar to get a better look. Y/N whimpered as her whole world tilted back and forth, Loki’s face taking up her whole field of vision. “Maybe I should take you to my quarters and get a better look at you before those idiot scientists have all the fun.”

Those words scared her more than anything that had happened thus far. The scientists. Bruce and Tony. She had known they were scientists, but her pain had been a rather distracting companion, and she hadn’t had time to think about it. If Loki handed her over to scientists…

She hadn’t even realized that she started crying until she felt the warm, wet liquid spill into her lips and past her chin, soaking her shirt. Y/N pulled her good leg up to her chest, hugging it and burying her face in it as her shoulders began to shake with sobs. This was it, her life as she knew it was over. She was going to be locked in this jar forever, studied and experimented on by scientists, poked and prodded by nosy humans.

Y/N cried out in surprise as she began to get bumped around, her shoulder slamming into the side of the jar. Loki was walking, his hand gripping her enclosure tightly as he made his way to his room. When he arrived, he tilted the jar, and Y/N slipped out and fell onto his desk with a cry of pain as she landed on her hurt leg and fell into a crumpled heap.

Was this gonna be her life now? Going from one pain to the next?

Y/N wasn’t sure how long she could take it.

…

Loki was quite enjoying himself. First, he was proven right about the intruder not being a mouse.

“How could a mouse open the loaf of bread without chewing through the plastic?”

“Maybe you left it open.”

“I. Did. Not.”

It was a small victory to say the least, but he didn’t get many small victories these days, living with those insufferable Avengers. Maybe this discovery would knock down Stark a few pegs. He wasn’t always right.

But first, Loki wanted to get a better look at his little discovery. He had read about tiny humans in an Asguardian book once, but he never quite knew whether to believe the story or not. Now he had proof.

Loki was slightly perplexed with this creature, however. When in the mouse trap, the little thing had been absolutely feral in its attempts for freedom. Now however, free from both the mousetrap and the jar, it just lay in a heap, barely moving. Maybe it was playing dead. Or maybe it just wasn’t a very intelligent creature. It could be that it was more animal than human, even though it appeared human.

Loki leaned down to get a closer look, before prodding the figure with his index finger. The little thing flinched, and Loki heard a barely-audible whimper. He frowned. Surely that little prodding hadn’t hurt, right? Loki gently pinched the little thing’s shoulder, and positioned its body so that it was laying face-up on his desk. He felt the thing shuddering and trembling under his touch, and its eyes were open wide. It was terrified.

And it wasn’t an it. Now that Loki had a good look at the thing, it looked like a girl. Not just a girl, a young girl. Probably barely a teenager.

And now Loki also saw why she hadn’t tried to run. Her right leg was twisted at an ever-so-slightly strange angle. Probably because of the mousetrap.

A toxic mixture of guilt and pity swirled in Loki’s stomach. The poor little thing was injured, and he had scared her.

The pity wasn’t quite strong enough to overcome his curiosity, however.

“What’s your name?” He asked, feeling silly. What if this thing couldn’t even talk? He still wasn’t sure if it was intelligent, or just some animal with human characteristics.

The little thing slowly sat up, and appeared to be trying to inch slowly away from him. He frowned and planted his hand behind her back, halting her movements. The girl whimpered yet again, and she was still shaking.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Loki hesitated. “At least…not if you do as your told.” He didn’t intend to hurt the girl, it seemed pitiful to hurt something so pathetic. But perhaps, if she was intelligent, a little fear would keep her honest.

A mutter escaped the girl’s lips, but Loki couldn’t hear it.

“Speak up,” he barked, and he almost winced when he felt the child flinch.

“My name—my name is—is Y/N,” She called out in a shaky voice. “Please—please don’t hurt me.” She added in a whimper.

Loki pretended to think it over. “Well…you have been stealing from us…” he trailed off. Perhaps he was going a little far, but the little girl was so easy to scare.

He hadn’t expected her to burst into sobs.

“Please, please I’ll do anything, don’t hurt me!”

Loki wasn’t sure what to do now. He could feel the girl’s small frame convulsing with sobs, her whole body shuddering. She was a wreck.

And he had caused it.

His amusement at her fear had long faded. What had this little one been through that made her so truly, deeply terrified? Had a human hurt her in the past? Or were tiny little things like her just taught at a young age that all humans had bad intentions?

“Please don’t hurt me again, don’t give me to the scientists, please!”

Again?

Then Loki realized. It wasn’t some kind of past trauma or scary story that made this child terrified. It was him.

He had held her upside down, dropped her in a jar, threatened to hurt her, poked and prodded her, and talked of handing her off to scientists to be studied. Of course she was terrified!

Then another thought occurred to him. The little thing was probably still in immense pain; her leg was broken, after all. And now that Loki thought about it, that long fall into the glass jar probably hadn’t felt very pleasant, either.

“Oh, little one…” Loki’s voice was soft now, apologetic. The little girl glanced up at him, and he winced when he saw her red, puffy eyes staring fearfully up at him. “I…I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Loki scooped the girl up in his palm, and began using his magic to heal her leg.

The girl cried out in pain at first, but when she saw her leg return to a normal angle, and slowly felt the pain dissipate, she stared in awe at Loki.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?” He asked softly. She seemed hesitant to respond, but eventually she pointed to her shoulder. “May I?”

She nodded, and Loki gently touched the tip of his finger to the girl’s shoulder. Green wisps swirled around the spot, and Loki saw the girl’s face relax quickly from it’s previously-pained expression.

“Why are you helping me?” Y/N breathed out.

“It’s what I should have done from the start. Forgive me, I became caught up in my selfishness and my curiosity. I would never hurt you, I swear.”

“Please don’t give me to the scientists,” the little one whimpered.

“I won’t, I won’t little one, I promise.”

The little child stared up at him. “What happens now?”

Loki was suddenly nervous. “I…I suppose I could take you home…if you’d like. And if…if you don’t hate me…maybe you could come and visit me sometime.”

Y/N seemed to be thinking it over rather seriously. “No more jars?”

Loki smiled slightly. “None, I swear. I could even help you out with getting better food around here, if you’d allow me.”

A tiny smile played across the girl’s face.

“I think that would be alright.”

#marvel #mcu #loki #g/t story #g/t #giant tiny #loki x reader #loki x teen!reader #loki x teen reader #loki x borrower reader #giant loki x borrower reader #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki x y/n #loki friggason

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frittercrittern · 1 year

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Look out for the little guy!

#fritter draws #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #ant-man #falcon #mcu #scott lang #samuel wilson #g/t #giant/tiny #I need to draw him doing more Ant Man Things around the other avengers #or just. avengers in general #I need designs for them

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movietimegirl · 1 year

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Oh and btw, and Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania got some good g/t content.

#g/t #ant man and the wasp: quantumania #scott lang #cassie lang #hope pym #hank pym #janet van dyne #marvel cenimatic universe #marvel studios #marvel g/t #mcu #giant/tiny

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sweetestpieces · 10 months

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Kate Bishop standing on her tiptoes to kiss a slightly overgrown Cassie Lang.

#g/t #g/t fluff #fluff #g/t fiction #g/t writing #giantess #marvel mcu #mcu #cassie lang #kate bishop #hailee steinfeld #kathryn newton #cassie lang x kate bishop

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ntshastark · 2 years

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X-Men: Evolution is nothing like the comics

But still a better adaptation than the MCU

So, this tweet kind of really annoyed me. It’s in portuguese, but it says:

Good thing X-Men Evolution came out at a time when there wasn't much access to the internet, if this cartoon had come out now in 2022, even though it's a VERY GOOD cartoon, it would be massacred by the internet for not being faithful to the comics

My problem with it is how it implies that comic stans will tear any adaptation down if it’s not “faithful” enough. I won’t deny some people are like this, but I’d actually say (most) comic fans are actually more likely to enjoy an adaptation that’s nothing like the source material than most people. Under the right circumstances.

(Disclaimer: Whenever I say ‘comic’, assume I mean Marvel/DC comics unless stated otherwise; and whenever I say ‘film’ or ‘TV series’, I’m including both live-action and animation)

First, I want to make it clear that I’ve loved few cartoons in my childhood as much as I’ve loved XMEvo. It was HUGE in Brazil, as popular as XMTAS is in the USA. It was literally my first superhero obsession, and it actually, still to this day, colour a lot of the things I feel about the X-Men.

Second, I want to defend the right to not like an adaptation for not being faithful. I’m a fan of The Princess Diaries (book series), so that’s a pain I know all too well. It sucks to see a character or story that you love be turned into something completely different, and it’s a thousand times worse when this twisted version becomes the most popular one.

But anyway. How to be a good adaptation without “being faithful”?

1. Being its own, separate thing

Comics are basically the most adaptable stories there are. Those who read them are familiar with the multiverse, likely have several different versions of the same characters that they like, and sometimes even prefer an elseworld than the main universe. If you make a film or a TV series based on a comic and, from the start, treats it as just another different universe, it’s unlikely that a lot of people won’t like it just because it’s different. Maybe they won’t like those specific changes, but just the fact that there are changes is completely understandable.

(XMEvo never tried to be like 616, or even Ults, it always made it clear that it was an AU)

2. Not claiming to adapt directly if you’re not going to

Another thing about comics is that they’re old as balls. By this point, literally everything’s happened at least once, probably twice, maybe three times but with a different name now. It’s not like a book or even a graphic novel or a mini, where there’s a linear story with beginning middle and end. So there’s a huge number of stories for adaptations to choose, or even just tap into. If the adaptation isn’t an origin story, or specifically say it’s going to be based on a certain arc, no one is even gonna be able to directly compare it to the source material.

(The name ‘X-Men: Evolution’ isn’t a callback to any specific arc - at least that I know of - and neither are any of the episode names - which tbh really surprised me. The series taps into some origin stories but none of them are really the main focus)

3. Not being the only adaptation

And, side effect of comics being old as balls, there’s adaptations to spare. Rarely a book will be adapted more than once, unless the first adaptation is a success and then the adaptation itself gets a remake. The only exceptions I can think of are Literature Classics (so even older) and Percy Jackson (exactly because the fans hated the first adaptation for not being faithful to the books). The fucking horrendous Princess Diaries adaptation is actually getting a damn sequel.

Basically, comic fans are used to adaptations. They inevitably reach a larger audience than the comics and influence their perspective on the characters, which is “dangerous”. But adaptations end, the next one happens, the general public’s perception is adjusted again. An adaptation that people know is an adaptation and treat as an adaptation is never going to annoy a fan of the source material the way an adaptation that’s treated as the main version, or, even worse, seen as an original work, will. And being less annoyed by it means you’re more likely to give it a chance, even with it being different from the original.

(XMEvo came out 3 years after XMTAS ended, lasted 3 years, and 4 years later Wolverine and the X-Men came out. It also premiered the same year as the first X-Men live-action film)

4. It’s ok if it’s not, the comics are still there

And the thing about comics is that they don’t die. Even if the adaptation is bad, the comics are still coming out and you can just focus on reading them and ignore the rest. Sometimes, however, elements from the adaptation are incorporated into the comics. You can only hope it’s done in a organic manner and doesn’t interfere much with the established characters and relationships you already love.

(XMEvo did have an effect in the comics, as it was the first appearance of Laura Kinney. Laura was introduced in the comics as a new character, after XMEvo was already finished)

And what does the MCU has to do with this?

Well, you see. The MCU does absolutely not a single one of those things.

2. It chooses specific arcs to adapt - or claim to.

The MCU isn’t adapting “vibes”. Each character besides Spider-Man has their origin story adapted. Event names show up in the actual titles. Sometimes comic panels are directly recreated on-screen. There’s no way it could pretend to not be directly using specific comic storylines as a base (and then not paying the people who made those comics).

A film based on a book is supposed to tell the same story of the book. Maybe some details change, but the story is the same. Comics usually have a lot more leeway, but if you choose to wave that, you should be prepared to have your film/TV series judged accordingly. Committing to adapt a specific comic arc is completely different than simply making a movie about a character or a team that has decades of stories to pick elements from.

3. It monopolises adaptation.

Not only have other Marvel adaptations been based on the MCU instead of the comics for a long time now (ex.: ’Avengers Assemble’ replacing ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ in 2013), but recently every single Marvel animated project was cancelled (’Guardians of the Galaxy’, ‘Avengers: Black Panther’s Quest’, and the entire Marvel Rising line-up all ended in 2019. ‘Spider-Man’ ended in 2020), and projects set in the MCU were announced (’I Am Groot’ in 2020, ‘Spider-Man: Freshman Year’ and ‘Marvel Zombies’ in 2021).

[[For the sake of completion: ‘Hit-Monkey’ (2021) was cancelled and ‘M.O.D.O.K.’ (2021) is in limbo. The only non-MCU animated properties still going - besides Sony’s Spider-Verse - are ‘Baymax!’ (technically based on Marvel comics, but in practice just a Disney property), ‘Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur’ (has been in production since 2018 and keeps getting delayed) and ‘X-Men '97′, which is actually the first non-MCU project fully produced by Marvel Studios (it’s clearly being done to promote the introduction of the mutants in the MCU, but at least some good is coming out of it) (ETA: Marvel apparently can’t recast the Fox X-Men cast until 2025, so I guess the only way for them to do something not MCU-based is not being legally allowed to)]]

It’s not that bad when a comic adaptation doesn’t do your favourite character justice if another, hopefully better, one happens not too long after, or even simultaneously but in a different medium. But the MCU has been going for over 10 years and there’s no end in sight. A character you like is dead, written completely different, had some of their more meaningful relationships erased, or was whitewashed? Tough luck. Maybe in 50 years this shit will be finally over and they’ll get another shot.

And, yes, this deprives Marvel fans who don’t enjoy the MCU of content, but it also monopolises the public perception of characters. That version, inaccurate as it is, is all the general public is going to know.

4. It doesn’t leave the comics alone.

Taking over all the possible adaptations wasn’t enough. There has been countless changes to the comics so that they more closely resemble the MCU. Characters’ stories, personalities, relationships. Team rosters, teams’ existences. Events are constantly recycled so that they help promote films that are (supposedly) based on previous events. It’s all done extremely obviously and clearly under instructions from above. Nothing about it is organic, most of it barely even makes sense.

There’s nowhere left to run. Adaptations other than the films are now either based on it (if you’re lucky) or part of it. The comics are being moulded to its image, usually to their detriment. Everyone else in the world sees “Marvel” as a synonym to "MCU”. Your favourite character is now incredibly popular, but only as a whitewashed antisemitic version, and if their fans could spit on you via twitter for pointing that out they would.

1. It doesn’t stay on its lane.

The MCU straight up claimed for itself the reality number of the original comics universe (616), even when it already had a established reality number (199999). It is in no way satisfied with being an adaptation, it needs to have the center stage. The comics, the original universe, what started everything, is pushed aside in favour of it. And this was officiated when they gave it the main universe’s number. The MCU is the main universe, and comics are simply the script’s first draft.

So I think it’s fair that “the internet” “massacres” it “for not being faithful to the comics”. Your regular comic adaptation doesn’t really need to be, but we’re way past that. If the MCU is to be the main universe, then the bare minimum it should be is accurate to the main universe’s stories.

#i wrote this at 2am yesterday and i think i'm going insane #almost cried at some point bc - as someone in the comics industry - it's so deeply heartbreaking to see how little respect comics get #like great!! i've devoted my life to this thing!! and people see it as a stepping stone in the movie-making process!!! awesome!!!!!#anti mcu #anti mcu for ts #f: marvel #g: marvel animations #s: x-men evolution #g: marvel live-action #u: mcu #c: comics #t: talk post #mari rants

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veinereastath · 2 years

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Eᴛʜᴀɴ Hᴀᴡᴋᴇ ᴀs Aʀᴛʜᴜʀ Hᴀʀʀᴏᴡ ɪɴ Mᴏᴏɴ Kɴɪɢʜᴛ [61/?]

#if you noticed - congratulations #yes this gif is reversed #I'm not even ashamed or sorry #it gave me T H O U G H T S #he really didn't have to go this hard on this role but he did #sweet lord #arthur harrow #moon knight #mcu #marvel #ethan hawke

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j-triumf · 10 months

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Basically a very simple summary of why I never got that invested in the MCU and most other Marvel stuff; let Ant-Man stay tiny, dammit! (also give him some wings already, and if someone needs to be giant let it be his female partner instead; the crumbs from some obscure comic issues aren't enough) From a recent Make It Meme session with @dizzydennis

#shrinking #gender norms #giant/tiny #g/t #meme #MCU #Marvel #Ant-Man

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xshinormx · 2 years

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Never gonna recover from Val going from planning to die a glorious death in battle to consciously choosing NOT to fight bc she would probably die

#she really went from ‘i miss my sisters’#to actively choosing not to risk seeing them again yet #she has things to do and people to love in this life and she knows it now #she’ll see her sisters again one day #but not yet. not now. not until she’s lived her life.#and the G R O W T H of that i’m sobbing #valkyrie #thor love and thunder #tlat spoilers #mcu

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sparkagrace · 1 month

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We're finally in spring (hopefully!). Plenty of time to go outside with a nice coffee and get some reading done. I read some incredible fics this month!

april

392,534 words read over 35 fics (average of 11,215 words per fic, not including wips) 📈 20% from March

current total for the year: 1,378,159 words

a handful of fic recs

Till there were no more wolves in the West by @dharmasharks stucky | E | 71.6k

It's Time to Live by @bittersweet-in-boston stucky | E | 37k

I Need To Be Youthfully Felt 'Cause God, I Never Felt Young by sangha stucky | E | 2k

Between New York and What Comes Knocking by @dontcallmebree stucky | T | 2k

CA:TWS 10th Anniversary Ficlets (Stucky) by @voylitscope stucky | G | 3.3k

April by @xoxobuckybarnes stucky | E | 3.2k

Tried to drift but don't know how by @dharmasharks stucky | E | 10.4k

I'll hold on a little tighter (maybe you'll stay the night) by glittercake stucky | E | 10.3k

Baby Steps by @bluesimplicity73 stucky | M | 115k

series recs

E is for Escort by VenusDoom3 stucky | 3 fics | E | 21.7k

All's fair in [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] by redcigar stucky | 3 fics | M | 10k

a couple of author recs

this_wayward_life (@wayward-lives) recs: In the Light of the Candles [stucky | 1.7k], Think I Found Myself a Cheerleader [stucky | 2.4k], Soft [stucky, 2.4k]

@moodymelanist recs: but they've got planes [stucky, 1.7k], sometimes i hold you closer (just to know you're real) [stucky, 1k]

currently streaming wips started this month

Damage Gets Done by @bonky-bornes stucky | N/A | 4/7

wips completed this month

feel your heart take root in your body by @between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place sam x riley | M | 28k

be kind, rewind older fics or rereads

Feast On This by goldblooded (@duelingnebulas) stucky | E | 11k

bruise-resistant by mcwho stucky | E | 3.5k

less talk, a little more touch by @endofadream stucky | E | 2.3k

Number of Years by @missbeizy stucky | E | 8k

Deliver Me to Destiny by what_alchemy stucky | T | 2.4k

Steve's Favorite Thing by Just_a_m_ss stucky | E | 3.3k

The Fire We Make by @chiyume stucky | E | 8.8k

Sized Up by @duchessonfire stucky | E | 3k

non-mcu recs

Tuesday (Break My Heart) by pansys_goth_gf buck x eddie (911) | T | 10k

#buddie #monthly fic recap #steve x bucky #sam x riley #fic list #fic rec #fanfic

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fandom-gt · 17 days

Text

COMMISSION TYPE: Full Page +1 addon

PRICE: 65

FANDOM: MCU

CHARACTERS: Steve Rogers

REQUESTED SUMMARY: ”I'd love a continuation of the growing Steve Rogers quick fill! He's a few kilometers tall and is just getting off on his new power and size, Avengers try to stop him but are absolutely powerless. And when he's done he ends up tripling in size again. Please keep me anonymous when you post this!”

WARNINGS: Violence and implied tiny death, mass destruction, nsfw

——

Steve Rogers has been a large man for a number of years now. Ever since they slipped his small, skinny body into that machine and let him come out the other side feet taller, a hundred pounds heavier, muscular and strong, he’s known that he was always supposed to be big. It felt good at first, but after a while, a secret part of him had kind of wished for just a little bit more.

Finally, here smack-dab in the center of New York City, Steve’s finally got his wish. He stares down at the roaming little dots that make up people, the slightly larger little squares that must be cars, and a thrill of absolute satisfaction runs through him.

Everything below him, every building, every structure, every person, is tiny. The ruined tatters of his uniform are all but invisible to his naked eye now, and it’s only because of the serum enhancing his eyesight that he can even make out vague details of those ant-sized people.

He kneels, naked, knees crushing pavement and concrete and roads and sidewalks and anything that happened to be in their way as he grew, massive craters beneath his muscular thighs and calves, with barely even the hint of resistance despite being made of reinforced steel beams and the finest construction the human species is capable of. It all crumples like paper under him.

What really gets him going, once he notices it, though… is the tiny cracked crater underneath the place his cock gently dipped and smacked onto the road. Even it, even just the engorged head of his member, is enough to devastate what must be most of a city block. It brings a surge of heat through him, has his balls tightening, and he can’t keep himself from reaching down to wrap a hand around it.

Down below him, the world is in chaos. He cannot hear the screams, he doesn’t know the sight that he makes to the regular-sized humans trapped underneath his crotch. Tony stares up from his place on the cracked and broken sidewalk, mouth agape in utter disbelief even as he engages the nanite of his Iron Man suit.

Steve’s too large for him to take in all at once. All he can see at first is the shadow of his cock filling Tony’s skyline bigger than any skyscraper, the size of an entire mountain, with every vein and every ridge and every wrinkle of it in hyper-vivid super-high definition detail.

Before him, he watches in horror as a new monumental event enters the chaotic landscape — Steve’s massive hand descending from the heavens to wrap around his titanic dick. The rush of wind blows back signs and people’s hair as his hand moves forward in one stroke so big it almost seems slow-motion thanks to the scale. The sound of it, skin on skin, is deafening. People too close to him feel their eardrums splitting under the immense pressure of Steve’s low grumble.

That’s not what scares Tony. What scares him is the glistening pearl of precum that buds at the volcanic crater of Steve’s slit. It builds in size, in volume, an avalanche of sticky fluid, and he knows with a great, mounting horror that the second it drops, it’s going to wipe out an entire apartment building.

One single drop of precum will devastate dozens of people, will wipe out entire households, and Steve doesn’t even seem to notice — let alone care.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. He has to do something -— and so he kicks off, the rockets at his feet carrying him up, up, up a full kilometer in the air. Even with all that upward thrust, he still barely manages to make it to Steve’s waist.

One sharp jerk of Steve’s wrist sends a gust of air that throws him out of balance, sending him careening head over foot and slamming into a wall of flesh.

With his back against something sticky, he realizes in horror what he’s stuck to right as he sees the barreling momentum of Steve’s hand in his next jerk. He’s swallowed in an avalanche of skin, and lost on Steve’s body.

Steve did not even see him. Steve didn’t even notice the little speck lost in his lazy masturbation. He’s too busy staring down at the ground beneath him as another growth spurt ripples through him, carrying him outward, carrying him upward. He must be miles tall now, he can’t even imagine the math, he can’t even compare it.

What he does know is, all those little grid lines beneath him are city blocks, and his dick spans a dozen of them. He also knows, with a rippling jolt of pure arousal, that if he were to come… if he were to just jack off and finish, it would flood an entire city.

And god, that thought gets him harder than anything ever has in his entire life. His hand works harder, works faster, jacking his cock with a renewed frenzy that sends the population between his thighs into despair. They know what’s going to happen, and it’s all they can do to run — knowing that even if they move as fast as they physically can, even if they hop into cars and somehow escape the gridlock of traffic, even if they manage to put literal miles between themselves and the place Steve’s testicles crush their city, they won’t make it far enough in time.

And they’re right.

Another groan rumbles, and this time every single person in the state of New York can hear it. Windows shatter under the sound of it. Earthquakes shake tremors in the ground through voice alone, to say nothing of the untold devastation as Steve shifts on his haunches to dip forward and press the head of his dick into the ground, rutting through entire counties and leveling them in one aimless, heated hump.

As he rolls his hips, as his enormous glutes tighten in fervor, as he drags himself along irreverent to the thousands of crushed people beneath him, Steve Rogers wipes Queens off the map entirely with one earnest rut.

It’s too much. He shifts again, one elbow planting on the ground, his knees and thighs comfortably stretched out beneath him, and he works himself hard, mounting, building, wide blue eyes forced open so he can watch it when it finally hits, when it finally happens.

His orgasm tears through him in a torrent of semen bigger than any tidal wave. His release washes through city streets, drowning everything, sticky and unstoppable. A flood, a thousand rivers, the best god damn thing he’s ever felt. Every person in its wake is consumed by it. And all he did was just let himself come.

#mcu #giant #g/t #growth #steve rogers #commissioon #micro/macro

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inevitably-johnlocked · 2 months

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Hiiiiii

Do you have any fics where john or sherlock are mutants/ have powers?

Hi Lovely!

OOOOOOOHHHH I love this; I have a few fics that could be qualified as "CLOSE" to mutations and superpowers, but not 100%. I have a lot more "changelings" than anything else. I've compiled together some of the ones on my MFL list as well, but I can't guarantee that they're mutants in them since I haven't read them.

If anyone has any fics that they can suggest, please do! I'm kind of into MCU fics right now so if I can have Sherlock-style in there too, that would be awesome! PLEASE let us know if you have mutant or Superhero Johnlock fics!!!

MUTATIONS or SUPERPOWERS