#*climbs back in trash bin*

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Disney princess Danny

It’s known that animals can sense death. Instances where pets gravitate to someone on their death bed and dogs barking at ghosts. Danny already knew this from before he half died, so he was expecting animals to rat him out with their sixth sense or become aggressive or cower from him. Instead, they all behaved the complete opposite than he anticipated.

Stray cats come running to rub against his legs, dogs nearly pull arms out of their owners sockets to get close to him, birds bring him trinkets, raccoons lead him to trash cans full of food, and even squirrels and rats get close to just sit on his shoulders. It’s… weird, but not unwelcome. He always loved animals.

Danny had come to semi-trust the animals that come to him. They know where the good food is and drinking water, they know when to steer away from a certain area right before something happens, and they always know when a person is bad or okay. So when an animal leads him somewhere, he follows. Sometimes they need help and he’s the one they go to. He’s helped plenty of raccoons out of garbage bins and cats out of gutters to have a good relationship with the animals of the streets.

What he isn’t expecting is to be led to Robin again and again.

The first time it was a cat. A mangy old Tom cat that rubbed against his torn up jeans and looked back with - Danny swears- a raised eyebrow. Danny follows and soon enough he finds himself standing a few paces away from Robin who is kneeling down to give clean water to the momma cat and her three kittens.

Robin freezes and so does Danny. They stare at each other.

“Um, hi?”

Robin straightens immediately, leaving the water on the ground where the cats can drink. Tom cat swaggers over to guard them.

“Civilian. Is there something I can assist you with?”

The dude is probably a year or two younger than Danny himself and he has to suppress a smile at the formal tone.

“Oh, uh, no? The cat just led me here.”

He can see Robin glance at the Tom cat who was now licking himself.

“Is that so?”

“Yea. Sorry to interrupt. Animals just like me for some reason.”

The three kittens one by one all totter over to him on unsteady legs after they had their fill. The orange one starts trying to climb his pant leg with its short and sharp claws digging into the jean material.

“They really like me.”

He carefully sits down crossed legged so the others could also climb all over him. Robin watches for a moment silently and when he sees Danny react well to the little pricks from tiny claws, he seems it safe enough to return to patrol.

The second time it’s a couple of rats that lure him away to find Robin fighting off more thugs than he probably should by himself. So taking the rats’ movements as encouragement, he takes the closest thing, a piece of plywood, and hit the nearest guy over the head with it. The guy crumbles like a wet sock and Danny is moving on to the next thug.

They sweep the floor with these guys with only a few splinters and a twisted ankle.

“It was dangerous to intervene,” Robin tells him. “I had it handled.”

“Yea, I know.”

The vigilante didn’t seem to be expecting that response from his stunned silence. He straightens as much as he can with bruised ribs.

“Well, I’m glad you know your mistake. Don’t let it happen again.”

Danny neither agrees nor disagrees, just shrugs and allow the rats to climb up his leg to his shoulder. Robin looks at them curiously. Danny gives a salute before leaving. Robin gives him a nod.

The third time it happened the roles are reversed.

Some people from the local gang are bullying the lonely, homeless teen to run drugs for them. They don’t seem to understand the word ‘no’. It gets to the point where Danny finds himself with his back against the wall and all his exits blocked with a guy shoving him again and again.

“Stop it!”

“I’ll stop if you agree.”

“I’m not doing it!”

Frank the raccoon and his buddy Bobby launch themselves at the guy’s ankles. The guy shrieks and pulls a gun.

“No!”

Before Danny can dive for it, a projectile comes out of nowhere to knock it out of his hands. He can’t even process what happened before the three are running away, two raccoons chattering at their heels before coming back to crowd him in worry.

Danny looks up to see Robin with a sword out threateningly, staring at where the three fled. He sheaths the sword after a few seconds.

“Are you okay?”

Danny realizes he’s breathing a little heavy and slows down a bit as he leans over to pet the top of the two heads.

“I’m- yea, I’m okay. Thanks for the save. Those guys were jerks.”

“I’m inclined to agree.”

Robin is staring at the raccoons and it takes Danny a long moment to piece things together.

“Did- did they lead you to me?”

Robin doesn’t answer right away.

“You have loyal friends.”

Danny smiles at the weird compliment. Looking down at the two heroes of the evening Danny is also inclined to agree.

The fourth time is funny in a way Danny doesn’t know how to describe.

It was the pigeons. They were at fault of course for how Robin’s secret identity was outed. By pigeons.

The grey birds swarmed Danny and settled in a cloud of feathers. One holding something in its beak before plopping it down in his lap like a golden retriever. It flaps off as Danny picks up the obvious wallet clip holding quite a bit of cash and a student ID. The card says Damian Wayne from Gotham Academy. Just then Robin comes skidding around the corner, clearly out of breath and freezes.

Danny looks down at the clip in his hand and back up at the vigilante. He looks at the crazy amount of birds around him and again at the vigilante.

Said vigilante straightens and approaches like he called Danny there.

“If I could have that so I could return it to its proper owner.”

He holds out a hand with false arrogance, but Danny can see the nervousness in his stance. Danny looks down one last time before putting the clip in the outstretched hand without a word.

Robin nods once, pockets the ID and money, and immediately leaves.

The fifth time just cements what Danny had already figured out.

He was at the park. Not Ivy’s park of course, the one where people actually like to go. He was helping the squirrels find and hide acorns when he’s nearly knocked over by a massive black dog.

“Titus!”

The end of the Great Dane’s leash is a familiar face. Damian Wayne’s eyes widen in recognition as he finally sees who Titus was so excited to get to.

“Uh-“

Danny has to close his mouth quickly or else the massive tongue on his face would have turned into a French kiss.

“Titus! Heel!”

Danny laughs at the embarrassed blush on the other’s face, obviously not used to his companion going off the rails like this.

“It’s alright. We both know how animals like me.”

Damian narrows his eyes to analyze the teen. Danny wasn’t about to pretend and Damian looked like he was debating whether to follow his lead or not. There was literally no one within hearing distance.

“Have you told anyone?”

Danny thought about redirecting, but thought better of it. He actually liked Robin and what he did.

“Nope. I haven’t and I won’t. I swear.”

Damian tilts his head and then looks down at Titus. He seems to come to a decision before looking back at Danny.

“You’re homeless, are you not?”

Didn’t think they were being that direct but sure.

“Yea?”

“I will pay you in food and shelter to take care of my animals.”

Danny blinks. Then actually considers the offer.

“What kind of animals? How many we talking?”

Damian grins.

The family finds out pretty quickly when a teen they’ve never seen before walks into the Batcave with two pails of food for the bats, Titus at his heels and Alfred the cat perched contently on his shoulders.

Duke stares and Bruce short circuits.

“Um, who are you?”

“Hi! I’m Danny. Damian employed me to take care of the animals.”

“O…kay?”

“And where is Damian?” Bruce sounds like it physically hurts to ask and Danny does not envy Damian’s position right now.

“Upstairs. I think he said he was going to his art studio.”

Bruce marches past the boy to the stairs before stopping abruptly and turning to Danny and Duke.

“Don’t touch anything. Watch him.”

Duke and Danny blink at each other for a moment as Bruce disappears up the stairs.

“I’m Duke by the way.”

Danny grins.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

The New Garbageman

Lance slowed from his run and glanced at the trash compactor sitting outside his apartment complex. He needed to catch his breath, but he hated being so close. The young man gave a disdainful look to the laborer who seemed wholly unbothered by his choice in career. 'Some men are just meant for menial crap like this,' he thought to himself, 'God knows I wouldn't be caught dead doing it.'

The jogger looked straight ahead as he passed, not wanting to make eye contact with the sucker lugging away a week's worth of his building's refuge. Lance thought the smell alone was enough to make him gag, but he was even more disturbed by the garbageman's indifference to the squishy contents leaking all over his clothes.

'At what point is that worker just considered trash himself?' Lance pondered with a grimace.

Just as he was about to escape into the entrance of the complex, a sharp ripping noise sounded behind him, followed by a clamour of things crashing to the ground.

Lance made the mistake of looking back, seeing a huge mess scattered across the sidewalk. It looked like a garbage can had exploded and now there was rotten food and crumpled papers everywhere, but that damn sanitation worker had vanished!

"The hell!" Lance shouted in anger, but his rage didn't last long.

A sudden pain stabbed him in the back and he crumpled to the ground like all the garbage had moments before. Everything went black...

Lance shook off the daze and found himself leaning against one of the garbage bins. The pain in his back didn't feel as acute anymore. All he could feel was an unusual warmth spreading from where he had been stung.

"Where is that goddamn garbage man," he growled, wincing at the litter surrounding him. He was ready to give that idiot a piece of his mind.

He put his hand on the concrete in an attempt to get himself up, but was surprised by the feeling of gloves over his fingers. Lance stared at his gloved palms with total confusion. He was sure as hell that he didn't put those old worn things on!

Then he noticed his shoes. They weren't the sneakers he'd been jogging in moments before. They were some kind of work boots!

"What the hell!" he exclaimed, wondering if he'd actually been knocked out and robbed.

Lance pushed his fears aside and began climbing to his feet, but as he did, he noticed something had appeared over his shoulders!

"Where'd this come from?" he cried, becoming more and more angry as articles of clothing just kept appearing on his body.

He was positive this dirty old jacket didn't belong to him. It was covered with stains and reeked like a public bathroom. Lance had a habit of always keeping his clothes freshly laundered and fragranced. He wouldn't even wear jeans two days in a row without washing them, so what was this raggedy work jacket doing in his back?

Lance frantically started to pull the thing off, but it seemed stuck on his waistband or something. No amount of thrashing could get him to pull the thing over his head!

He moaned in frustration and threw his fists down angrily. Then, he noticed why the jacket wouldn't come off. It took him a second to realize what he was looking at. The jacket was attached to the new pants he had on!

Lance shouted out in a state of confused panic. "Help!" he cried, not knowing what else to do, but even if someone did come over, what would he tell them? They'd never believe that his clothes were magically being replaced!

He couldn't even bring himself to look down at what he was wearing. Gone were his running shorts and tank top. In their place, a gross old jumpsuit had enveloped his body. Lance was struck by the itchiness of the course material, but he was even more horrified by how damp it felt against his skin. He didn't want to know what liquid those coveralls were saturated with; oil, sweat, or something even worse?

Lance couldn't find his phone in any of his new attire's pockets. He didn't know what was going on, but he was about to start screaming if he didn't find out soon. His breathing intensified while his heart raced out of his chest. He could feel the panic attack coming.

Then all of a sudden, he stopped...

That warm feeling in his back had washed over his entire body and told every tense muscle to relax. Lance's heart rate eased and his breathing slowed. The confusion, worry, and panic in his face was gone: a numb expression sat in its place.

Lance didn't understand why he had suddenly become so calm. Internally, he was still disgusted, horrified, and outraged, but he couldn't deny how relaxed his body had became.

Finally able to gain his bearing, the former jogger climbed up from the ground and gave his new outfit another look.

"What the hell is this thing," he wondered, but his voice had a comparatively lifeless tone.

Lance studied the clothing. The boots were caked with dirt and grime. He could feel his feet sweating inside them. In fact, his entire body felt like it was being cooked. He was completely covered from the neck down with some pretty heavy duty work wear. It was all clothing he would never be caught dead in, yet it looked kind of familiar.

Suddenly it, clicked.

"I'm dressed a goddamn garbage man," Lance spoke again with a monotoned voice.

Then his mouth moved on its own, "I am a garbage man."

The words chilled him to the core. He had not meant to say them! That warm feeling that started in his back had moved to his throat and taken over.

Before he knew it, his hands were moving on their own too. They were picking up the trash littered around him! His legs moved to, crawling his body across the concrete, and Lance couldn't do anything to stop himself.

His mouth wouldn't open when he tried! He wanted to scream! His arms and legs weren't doing what he wanted either. He was trapped in his own body! Lance couldn't speak; he couldn't run; he couldn't hide; he couldn't even panic. His own heart beat at a steady pace like he was the calmest man in the world! His lungs systematically drew in breath after calm breath, and his face was locked in an empty look of indifference...

Lance would have to get used to being around the trash. He was a garbageman now...

One Year Later...

Lance had never imagined he'd be trapped as a garbage collector for this long. His body hadn't let him look back once since he walked away from his old life. Who knows what happened to his apartment and family. He'd long since given up on the idea of ever going back to his old life.

His days were now spent being puppettered to take out other people's trash. It was disgusting hard work that he got no thanks for, but that didn't matter. He wasn't in control of his body, and his body just kept lugging rank bags of garbage day after day after day.

He'd been subjected to millions of dirty looks as people caught sight of him. Lance knew he must seem pathetic. He was sure he smelled even worse. How could anyone respect a man like him? Even after a year, his face still burnt red when someone looked grossed out by him.

The discomfort of his uniform has become normal to Lance. It was itchy and humid under there, which made sense since it hadn't been washed in the all the time he'd had it on.

Well, that wasn't entirely true...

Every night after work, his body would hop on the garbage truck and get dropped off at the sanitation department's parking garage. There he and the rest of the garbage crew would hose each other down. It didn't do much other than make him cold, but at least he got that.

After the makeshift shower, he and the rest of the guys would file into the garage. Lance assumed that every one of the laborers were being used as puppets like him, because they appeared just as numb and lifeless as he did. There was no chummy chitchat; there were no friendly waves or claps on the back; hell there wasn't even a smile or frown on any of their faces.

All the garbagemen acted like robotic slaves for unpaid labor, which is exactly what they were.

Lance's theory was that when he'd felt that pain a year ago, he'd had some sort of Syfy-futuritic-techno crap inserted in his back. It had to be controlling his actions. He could feel it on his spine, sending signals to the resto for his body for how to behave.

It was just a theory. He couldn't prove or disprove anything when he had no autonomy over his own body.

So he was stuck seeing himself play out the same awful routine everyday. 'At least the day's almost over,' he thought to himself. At least he could still dream of a life where he didn't wear this disgusting uniform and pick up garbage all day.

Lance's body joined the rest of the men on the floor. This was where they spent their nights. Whoever was controlling them was clearly too cheap to buy them beds let alone showers or laundry machines

It usually got pretty bleak in there: a whole room of men that aren't allowed to talk or interact outside of working together. There was nothing else to do but sleep, so Lance slid down to the concrete and closed his eyes, wondering if he would ever be anything other than a smelly garbageman ever again.

He thought back to his old life, dreaming about that last morning run he'd gotten before all this happened. He fantasized about what would have happened if he'd just ran around the block one more time.

Would he have avoided this fate or was he just destined for menial crap like this?

Thanks for the Ask, workgearfan

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Heart Still Beating - 1

Character: Lloyd Hansen x Female!Reader

Summary: After the heart transplant, Lloyd, the heartless killer, started to feel something—something unexpected and powerful that was tied to the fiancé of the heart’s donor.

Words Count : 2289

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , End

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

"Ring!"

As the school bell rang, the fifth-graders hurriedly stuffed books and notebooks into their bags, eager to escape the classroom. The teacher’s voice cut through the bustle, “Luna, your father is here.”

Luna glanced up and gently corrected her, “Teacher, he’s my stepfather.”

“Oh… Hoho! My apologies,” the teacher chuckled, pointing toward the window. “Look, your stepfather’s waiting for you.”

Luna turned to see Lloyd standing under a tree, shielding himself from the sun. He stood out among the clusters of mothers and nannies; his presence was familiar yet rare, as he was one of the only male who came to pick up their child every single day.

When Luna approached, he immediately walked toward her, taking her heavy bag with ease. The teacher watched them and couldn’t help but smile, observing how Lloyd's care for Luna seemed every bit as strong as that of any father. Luna corrected everyone who assumed he was her “real” dad, yet she still called him "Dad" with affection and trust.

As they walked toward the parking lot, Luna suddenly pointed ahead. “Dad, look! That boy just threw trash on the road.”

Lloyd’s gaze sharpened, his voice calm yet firm. “Hey,” he called out, stopping the teenage boy with a single glance. “Pick it up.”

The boy froze. Usually he would ignore adults’ remarks, but something in Lloyd’s tone made him pause. Without a word, the teenager bent down, grabbed the trash, and tossed it into a nearby bin. Luna beamed up at Lloyd, pride filling her expression, and they continued toward the car.

“I need your help to buy some flowers,” Lloyd mentioned as they buckled up.

“Okay!” Luna chirped.

When they arrived at the flower shop, Lloyd’s face tightened as he noticed a man smoking outside, right under a “No Smoking” sign. His jaw set, and he grabbed a water bottle. “Wait here, sweetheart,” he said to Luna, stepping out of the car with a calm but intimidating stride. He marched over to the smoker and splashed water on the ground beside him, firmly pointing to the sign. “Smoking is prohibited here. You want to set this place on fire?”

The man shot Lloyd an indignant look but, sensing the authority and cold steel in Lloyd’s gaze, muttered something under his breath and walked away. Luna climbed out of the car, giggling as she joined Lloyd.

“You’re awesome, Dad.”

Lloyd softened, giving her a smile and ruffling her hair. “Come on, let’s pick out some flowers.”

Inside the shop, the elderly florist welcomed them warmly. She raised an eyebrow at Lloyd with a teasing smile. “What did you do this time to make your wife angry?”

“Oh, you know…” Lloyd rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “This and that…”

The florist leaned down, winking at Luna. “Let’s help your dad out of his ‘this and that’ mess, shall we?”

Once they had their flowers, they headed home. But as Lloyd pulled into the driveway, he spotted a car already parked there. He cursed under his breath, “Oh no. Your mom’s home.”

“Uh-oh.” Luna’s eyes widened as she unbuckled her seatbelt, watching her dad’s nervous expression.

Lloyd handed her the bouquet. “Luna, can you give this to your mom first? Maybe… soften her up a bit?”

Luna stifled a laugh. “She’s that mad?”

“Oh, yeah,” he sighed, looking a little guilty.

Luna held the bouquet like a shield and marched into the house. “Mom?”

Her voice was muffled behind the large, vibrant arrangement of flowers as she carefully peeked around it, spotting you by the doorway. Your eyes softened at the sight, the colorful petals too beautiful to resist.

“Where’s is he?” you asked, hiding a smirk.

Luna pointed outside, and you stepped out to find Lloyd still in the car, glancing your way with a sheepish, almost boyish look. It was hard to believe this was the same tough, strong man you’d first met—the man whose stare could make anyone else crumble. But right now, all he could do was sit there, hoping the flowers would speak for him.

He opened the car door slowly, clearing his throat. "So… are we good?” he asked, his voice surprisingly soft, only for you and Luna.

And with one look at his apologetic smile, you couldn’t help but smile back.

10 Years Ago

The man fought with everything he had, but his strength was slipping, his vision blurring. Each swing felt heavier, his defenses weaker. Every breath burned, and the weight of inevitability pressed down on him like an anchor. He staggered, then felt a sharp sting in his chest.

"Shit." He muttered, his hand instinctively clutching the spot. It came back red. Blood. He knew this was it. His time was over. As the sounds around him faded, everything shifted to slow motion. His entire life flashed before him—decisions made, lives he’d taken, things he wished he could take back. Then everything went dark, sinking into a cold, quiet void.

"Beep. Beep."

Then, a distant beeping pulled him back, piercing through the silence. He cracked his eyes open, disoriented, squinting against the sterile white light above. He was in a hospital room. A nurse entered, eyes widening in shock as she saw him awake. "Call the doctor!”

Too weak to speak, he drifted back to sleep, darkness reclaiming him.

The next time he opened his eyes, someone familiar stood at his bedside: Carmichael. A hint of a smirk pulled at his friend’s lips. “Welcome back.”

Lloyd swallowed, the dryness in his throat making his voice rough. “How… am I still alive?” He looked up at the ceiling, half-expecting to be in another life, another world.

Carmichael leaned back, folding his arms. “You got a new heart.”

Lloyd’s eyes narrowed. “What?” He already felt that something was different—something new in his body. But he never thought he would receive a new heart.

His friend tapped his own chest. “You were dead, but the surgery was a success. You should be grateful. Thanks to the donor, you’re here.”

Lloyd’s expression hardened, a mix of confusion and guilt flickering in his eyes. “I don’t deserve this,” he murmured, an ache settling in his chest that felt deeper than physical pain. “Why did you save me?”

Carmichael’s jaw tightened, his eyes unreadable. “Wasn’t my order. Came from the boss.” He stood, hands shoved in his pockets. “Doctor said it was a miracle,” he added before he left, his tone carrying a hint of something Lloyd couldn’t place. Something hidden.

Later, the doctor entered to explain the procedure, detailing Lloyd’s new heart and the adjustments his body would need to make. “It’ll take time for your body to fully accept the heart,” he said calmly. “Some symptoms will occur; maybe some memory disturbances or strange dreams. Patients often feel… connections.”

For a few nights after waking up, he couldn’t fall back asleep. He kept having the same dream. He was on the beach, then the scene shifted to him lying on the grass. Lloyd felt as though he had said, “Luna, that’s her name.” But it wasn’t him who said it. Then someone called, “Justin.” Lloyd turned around and saw a woman hugging him.

This dream left Lloyd wide awake. He hated the feeling of longing for someone—hated it with every fiber of his being.

Lloyd’s brow furrowed, his tone skeptical. “Doctor, I feel like I’m in someone else’s body. And I’ve been dreaming. There’s a woman’s voice… calling someone—Justin.”

"That's the name of the donor." The doctor gave a reassuring nod. “It’s not uncommon. This heart once belonged to someone else, and the mind, the body… they retain memories, even echoes. But don’t worry; medically, you’re fine. The donor had no health issues, no family history of illness.”

But Lloyd’s face remained clouded, his hands instinctively reaching up to touch the long scar running down his chest. He traced it, feeling the rough ridges of the stitches that held his new life together. A heavy sadness settled over him, a strange melancholy he didn’t understand. Was it just the weight of having brushed so close to death? Or was it something else?

As he stared at himself in the mirror, the door behind him creaked open. Carmichael stepped inside, but his friend’s usually casual air felt strangely formal. Carmichael stepped aside, gesturing silently as a woman entered the room.

Lloyd’s gaze shifted to her, and his breath caught. She was visibly pregnant, her hand resting protectively over her round belly. Six months along, maybe more. Her eyes found his, and for a moment, the world seemed to still, charged with something unspoken. Lloyd’s head pounded, memories flashing—walking along a beach, a woman’s soft laughter. He winced, clutching his temples.

Carmichael cleared his throat. “Lloyd… this is the fiancée of the man who donated his heart to you.”

Lloyd’s eyes widened, his breath shallow. You're the woman from his dreams.

You held back your rage, your voice cold and controlled. “I followed my fiancé’s wish to donate his organs. I did it because I thought it was the right thing.” You swallowed, anger flashing in your eyes. “But now, seeing you, I wish I hadn’t.”

Lloyd was silent, his gaze shifting away, the weight of her words sinking in.

"I will never accept that my fiancé’s beating heart is inside trash like you." Your voice shook with anger, disbelief mixing with disgust as you took in the sight of Lloyd. It felt like a betrayal—a mockery of everything your fiancé had been. To know that his heart, once full of love and life, now kept someone like Lloyd alive was unbearable.

A silence fell over the room, thick with tension. Then, unexpectedly, something glistened on Lloyd’s cheek. He froze, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch it. “Eh?” His fingers brushed his cheek, and he realized, almost in disbelief—he was crying. He never cried. This must be because of his heart—Justin’s heart. The memory of its previous owner was longing for you.

The realization left you and Carmichael momentarily stunned, watching as Lloyd blinked, trying to process this foreign feeling.

Clearing his throat, Lloyd quickly wiped his tears, standing taller, his voice firm. “I’m grateful for the heart,” he said, his tone defiant as he met your gaze. “But this is mine now. You can’t do anything about it.”

You scoffed, cold and unyielding. What else could you expect from someone like him? Turning sharply, you stormed out, unwilling to let him see anything but contempt in your eyes.

Lloyd’s hand moved to his chest as he watched you leave, his fingers resting over the steady beat beneath his ribs. It felt… precious. But why? Why him? Why had he been the one to receive this heart, to be pulled back from the edge?

“Just take it, Lloyd,” Carmichael said, breaking the silence. “Get better. We need you back.” And with that, he too left the room, leaving Lloyd alone with questions he didn’t know how to answer.

One week later, Lloyd returned to his old work, to the life he knew. His hands were still skilled, his instincts as sharp as ever. But something was different. Each time he went for the kill, something held him back. There was a hesitation, a slight tremor in his hand, something foreign that froze him at the most critical moments. The latest assignment was no different; he cornered his target, knife in hand, but when he raised the blade, his arm wouldn’t move.

A searing headache struck, and images flooded his mind, like a montage from someone else’s life—a soft laugh, the warm glow of a sunset on the beach, a woman’s hand slipping into his. He gritted his teeth, clutching his head, trying to push the memories away. “Fuck,” he hissed, feeling his grip on his own mind slipping. They weren’t his memories, but they felt as real as his own past.

💘💘💘💘

At home, you carefully packed away your fiancé Justin’s belongings, handling each item like it was glass, fragile and irreplaceable. You paused over a framed photo of him, smiling in a way that made your heart ache. As you placed it gently into the box, a wave of grief and longing washed over you.

Then you felt a kick in your stomach and gently touched it. It must be your daughter; she must have sensed your sadness. You remembered what Justin said when you both gazed at the stars one night: “Let’s call her Luna.” He had named her after you discovered the gender. You wiped away your tears, recalling that moment. Your gentle, sweet fiancé Justin was gone, and now his heart belonged to someone completely the opposite of him.

A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. You moved to the security monitor, surprise flashing across your face when you saw Lloyd standing there—the man who now carried Justin’s heart.

You pressed the intercom button, your voice cold through the speaker. “Why are you here?”

His voice, rough and unshaken, came through the speaker. “I can’t explain it… but this heart, it won’t let me rest. Not without seeing you.”

For a moment, his eyes softened, a flicker of something deeply unsettled. “It’s like a ghost inside me, and it has your name all over it. And I need it out of my head."

You felt your breath hitch as you stared at the man standing in front of you. He was a stranger, yet he carried your fiancé's heart. The thought twisted painfully inside you—a piece of the man you’d loved was now bound to someone cold, someone unrecognizable.

It was like seeing a ghost in the wrong skin, a cruel reminder of what you’d lost and where it now lived.

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@scott-loki-barnes

@missvelvetsstuff

@mostlymarvelgirl

@kjah97

@lokislady82

@texmexdarling

@buckybarnessweetheart

@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

@notyourtypicalrose

@choppedgalaxynerd

[almostempty]

the meet ugly (javier peña x f!reader) 

WC: 1.6k | Other fics | Rating: it’s ? fluff? No smut

last one for today, sry for spamming anyone, it was an all-or-nothing scenario in my mind 

Summary: your bad day gets worse when a trash bag spills on you. your neighbor javi tries to help but you both get stuck trapped with him and a dumpster. 

Note: this was for the meet-cute, but i had to do something nobody asked for aka make it gross ??? it’s my clown blood idk 

Tags/warnings: au modern javi lives in your apartment complex, description of cold leftovers from your garbage spilling on you, it’s just flirty peña idk it was an exercise for me to write something short and without smut, i’m assuming that dumpsters locked behind fences are relatable enough for all, no y/n, reader is able-bodied, all mistakes are mine just pretend like you didn't see them, i think that's all ty <3

 

You groan as you wrestle with the trash bags, their weight pulling on your arms while you trudge down the cracked concrete stairs. The holly bush at the bottom catches on your shorts again, its spiky branches scraping across your leg. Mocking you. You bite back a curse. The day has been a disaster from start to finish, and now you’re hauling half your apartment’s trash to the dumpster, trying not to lose your temper.

Why does this apartment complex even have holly bushes? It’s like someone got paid just to make everything as inconvenient as possible. Whoever designed this must have never experienced the luxury of hauling garbage bags between two overgrown defensive security bushes. 

You’re still fuming about it, whoever designed this hellscape of an apartment complex, when you reach the gate for the dumpster. One of the trash bags, full of leftovers you’d rather not think about, digs painfully into your fingers. You adjust your grip, unaware the straining plastic is a ticking time bomb. 

You trudge toward the dumpster enclosure, spotting your hot neighbor rounding the corner of his SUV, cigarette between his fingers. Of course, he would be out here to witness your personal walk of garbage shame.

He glances up, and you catch the moment his dark eyes land on you. His gaze sweeps over the bags, then to your face, a smirk tugging at his lips. He doesn’t say anything, but his look is enough to make your face hot. 

Damn him.

"Rough day?" he asks as you approach the dumpster, his deep voice laced with amusement.

"You could say that," you mutter, already feeling defensive. He’s really the last person you want to see while you’re sweaty and cranky. 

With a huff, you push the gate open and step into the dumpster enclosure, tossing the first couple of bags into the bin. The smell is overwhelming, but you just want to be done with it. You lift the last bag, but just as you hoist it up, the thin plastic rips apart, and cold, week-old pad thai leftovers land on your chest, feet, and everywhere but the dumpster. 

You freeze, mortified. Of course.

Before you can even process what just happened, you hear boots scuff against the pavement. Javier’s already hustling over, cigarette still between his fingers, that damn smirk still in place. 

"Need a hand?"

"I’ve got it," you snap, despite the fact that you aren’t moving. Unsure what’s going to make the situation any worse. 

It’s hard to focus on the mess when he’s standing so close. His presence makes your embarrassment worse. Like, you could climb into the dumpster yourself and wait until the garbage truck picks you up on Thursday and takes you away. 

"You sure about that?" He doesn’t move to help—just watches you with a look that’s far too amused for your liking.

"I’m sure," you grumble, tossing the ruined bag into the dumpster. "I don’t need your help." You commit to the mess, peeling cold noodles off of your chest and tossing them into the bin. You frown deeply, fishing out the leftovers that made it down your shirt. The smell and the texture make you nearly gag. 

Javier steps closer, chuckling under his breath. "Right. Because you’ve got everything under control."

You glare at him, wiping your hands on your already-ruined shorts. “I think you’re a little late to be a hero. I’m already wearing the leftovers.”

"Never said I was a hero," he replies smoothly, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Just trying to be neighborly."

As you turn to face him, the gate behind him swings shut with a loud clang. He tries to shove it open, but it doesn’t budge. His expression doesn’t change much, but there’s a flicker of realization in his eyes.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “We’re stuck?” 

He tugs at the gate one more time before turning back to you, that smirk still in place. "Looks like it."

You stare at him, your frustration mounting. "You aren’t even going to apologize? How are you calm about this?” 

Javier shrugs, leaning back against the gate and taking a long drag of his cigarette before acknowledging your question. He’s like the opposite of an anti-smoking campaign. You want to be the cigarette. 

"Not my fault the gate’s a piece of shit. And I’m not in a hurry."

"You closed it," you counter, flustered and looking for someone to blame.

But even as you glare at him, you can’t help but notice how infuriatingly attractive he looks, the way his leather jacket pulls tight over his shoulders, the way his dark eyes glint with amusement.

Javier catches your gaze and quirks an eyebrow. "You’re staring."

You roll your eyes, heat flooding your face. "I’m not."

"You are." His voice is low, teasing, and the way he looks at you—like he knows exactly what he’s doing—is making it harder to keep your composure.

You step back, trying to regain control of the situation and you catch him laughing to himself. 

“I really don’t see what could be funny about any of this,” you wave your arms, gesturing to your ruined clothes and the small space you’re both trapped in. 

“Could be worse ways to spend the evening,” he drawls, taking a step towards you. 

You pick another piece of rice noodle out from between your tits. “Yeah, like if the dumpster was on fire?” 

You’re too aware of him. Of how his voice gets lower and rougher when he’s this close.

He chuckles, flicking his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it. "I’ve been in worse places. With worse company."

You swallow hard. The way his eyes flicker over your face, how his smirk never fully fades–it’s maddening. He knows what he’s doing to you. It feels like a sick joke. 

"Yeah?" you mutter, your voice sounding breathier than you’d like. "And what makes me such good company?"

Javi’s eyes darken, and he takes another step forward, close enough now that you could smell the leather of his jacket, the faint tobacco on his skin if it weren’t for the foul stench of all of half the apartment complex’s trash in the container behind you.  

"You’re more fun to argue with."

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. “Don’t fuck with me, Javier. I’m already having a day from hell.” 

He gives you a pouty look that makes you want to scream. “Why would I be fucking with you?” he asks quietly, almost sounding hurt. 

You snort, incredulous. “I’m wearing last week's lunch and the only clothes that weren’t in the laundry. Don’t act like you’re flirting with me.”

He steps closer until there’s barely any space left between you. His voice drops, smooth and dangerous. "What if I am?"

For a moment, you forget where you are. 

“What if I think you look good? Even with a garnish?” he asks and pulls a piece of cilantro off of your cheek. 

All you can focus on is how close he is, the way he waits like he’s daring you to make a move. There’s no way he’s serious. He rarely says more than a curt hello, even though you walk to your cars in the parking lot at almost the same time every morning as you head out for work. Sometimes, he’ll wave if you pass him on your walk to the corner store. 

You only knew his name because of the time he caught you trying to drag a dresser you’d scored at an estate sale up the stairs to your apartment on your own. He’d helped you carry it, despite your protesting, all the way into your bedroom.

“I’d say you’re literally stuck in here with me for the foreseeable future, so of course you’d say that.” 

He sighs heavily, muttering under his breath at you, “Tan terca.” And in a move that makes your jaw drop, he turns away from you, stalking towards the fence with a fluid arrogance. Like an oversized cat in a leather jacket, he leaps at the chain link fence like he’s done it a hundred times. He hoists himself up, swinging over the top and dropping onto his feet on the other side. 

He’s grinning at you when he unlatches the gate and swings it open, but you snap storming towards him. “How long were you gonna wait to let us out?” 

He shrugs, “I thought Randy would’ve been out for a smoke before we had to wait long. Don’t exactly enjoy having to climb over a fence.” 

“Right.” You slip out of the gate with a thanks, but when he says your name, you feel like your whole body is drawn towards him.  

He eyes you, leaning in just close enough to make your pulse race again. “And if I were to flirt with you now?” 

“I’d question your judgment,” you point to yourself, “I’m still in desperate need of a shower.” 

His eyes lift, looking just past you, before he grins. 

“Oh my god,” you cut him off before he says a word, “were you about to tell me I could use your shower?” 

Everything about his mockingly sheepish look says you are right. You shake your head at him in disbelief, but you can’t stop the smile that spreads on your face. It takes all of your strength to walk away but head towards your own apartment. 

You make it to the top of the stairs before the sinking feeling hits. You deny it until you check the door for yourself. Of course. After everything that went wrong today, it only makes sense that you would lock yourself out of your own apartment. 

You berate yourself all the way to his door. It swings open after the first knock, and he gives you a look that has your cheeks burning. His eyes gleam, and you just know he’s going to enjoy this before his smoky voice even reaches your ears. 

“Changed your mind?” 

divider @cyberangel-graphics

General tags 💗:

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Crazy Forever || LN4

Summary: The truth always comes out in the end. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, dub/con, dark themes WC: 1.3k F1 Masterlist || Part One (Crazy For you) || Part Two (Crazy For You Too) || Part Three (Crazy For The Three Of Us) || Part Four (Crazy Forever)

“Stay,” Lando begged as he curled an arm around your waist. “I want cuddles.”

“I have to go, I’m going to be late,” you said with a yawn. It had been another bad sleep and you put it down to the lack of sleep tea that used to knock you out cold, but you couldn’t stay in bed all day. “You should get up too, you have to pack for Australia.”

He groaned and he sat up, the blankets fell to his lap as he stretched his arms above his head. “Don’t remind me. You do realise you don’t have to work, love.”

“Don’t, we have been over this, Lan. You already pay for everything and it’s too much. I want to pay for the baby things with my own money.”

“It’s my baby too.”

“It was still my fault,” you mumbled as you left the room. 

You were called into the HR meeting room almost immediately after arriving and you sat down with a frown as your boss avoided all eye contact. 

“What’s going on?” you asked quietly as your palms began to sweat.

Your boss's cheeks turned pink and he slid his phone onto the table, a picture you recognised on the screen. Nausea rolled through you as you slapped your hand over the screen to hide the image but everyone had already seen it. “Where did you get that?”

“You sent it to me.”

“No, I didn’t,” you argued as you covered your mouth. 

“Yes, you did,” he muttered as he took the phone back and showed you the contact number. It was yours, and it was sent while you had been driving to work. “I know you are going through some things but this is unacceptable.”

“No, really, I didn’t send this. I-I don’t know how it happened but it wasn’t me.”

Your boss sighed heavily and looked at the HR manager. “I think it is best if you take the rest of the week off and we will schedule a formal meeting for next Monday. If you decide to hand your notice in before then it will be accepted without this going onto your record.”

You knew what he was saying between the thinly veiled threats and you reached for the small paper bin before retching your breakfast into it. A look of pity came over their faces and a handkerchief floated across the table for you to wipe your lips. “Thank you,” you mumbled as you rose from the table, despite wanting to throw the trash can at them. “I’ll send my resignation through today.”

“It’s for the best this way,” he said as he deleted the nude photo Lando had begged for when he was away testing in Bahrain. He had promised it was just for him, because he missed you so much.

You really shouldn’t have driven home in your state. You could hardly see the road through the humiliating tears that streamed down your face. 

“Lando?” 

You sighed with relief when you found the apartment empty as you weren’t sure you could face him at that moment. You didn’t know how he had done it, or why, but there was no one else who had the picture.

You would have sold your soul for a drink as you changed out of your work clothes and flopped onto the bed feeling miserable. You would have stayed there if it wasn’t for your phone vibrating with a notification, and you noticed an echo coming from Lando’s closet. You climbed over the bed and opened the door, listening for any other sound. It was quiet, but you heard it coming from under his clothes drawers. 

You tugged at the panel of wood and it popped off easily to reveal a mess of power cords, clothes and bags of powders squirrelled away. Shuffling around deeper, you saw a screen light up at the bottom and saw the notification that was mirrored on your phone. You reached for beyond the set of keys that matched your car and old apartment, right down to the cheap Eiffel Tower replica key ring.

“What the fuck…”

“I really wish you didn’t see that.”

You slammed the panel shut but it was too late, Lando was standing in the doorway to the room with his arms crossed over his chest. He had stolen it, the phone you had lost, the one you had replaced, it had been in his possession this whole time. All your social media profiles, iMessages, everything was at his disposal - even your period tracking app.

He had stolen everything you thought you lost. Keys, clothes, chargers. He even stole your perfume. You thought you were going crazy, but he had been orchestrating it all.

Tugging the panel away, you grabbed the clear bag of white powder and sniffed it. It had the same sickly sweet scent as the lemon and ginger tea he made. Grabbing another, you felt ill as it had the same relaxing aroma as the chamomile tea he used to make each night, the one that put you in a deep sleep.

“You roofied me?” You wanted to sound angry and bitter but you only sounded broken as you dropped the bags.

“You’re my girlfriend, why would I drug you?” he snickered as he walked into the room, taking the bags and flushing them down the toilet in the ensuite. “With what drugs?”

“You got me fired…why are you doing this to me?” It felt like déjà-vu and you were sure that you had this conversation before. Smacking the sides of your head you screamed as you tried to remember. Why couldn’t you remember?

“Hey, shhhh,” Lando soothed as he caught your hands and lowered them to your sides. You struggled against his hold as he wrapped you in his arms but he was too strong. “I just wanted you to be free to travel with me. Now we don’t have to be apart, ever.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” you growled as you tried to wriggle out of his hold. “This is insane, you’re fucking crazy!”

He released you as abruptly as he had caught you and you held your hands up as you backed away. You needed space, from him and the situation, you needed time to think.

“Where are you going?” he chuckled as he followed you out of the room, each of his strides longer than yours.

“Anywhere you aren’t.” He overtook you in the hall.

“You know I can’t let you go.” He blocked the door and slid the bolt across before facing you. “You’re carrying my child, you’re not leaving. You have no job, no house, no friends. You need me.”

Hopelessness fell over you and you hung your head in shame. “I wish I never met you.”

His laugh tickled your cheek as he embraced you again, his hand spreading wide over the back of your head and guiding your face to the crook of his neck. “No, you don’t,” he murmured into your hair. “You’re just angry, and that’s okay. We’ll get through this rough patch together and you’ll realise what a blessing this is. You and me, our baby, together, forever.”

“Forever?” you echoed in defeat.

“Forever. You’ll never want for anything, baby. Whatever you want you can have, I’ll make sure you are treated like a princess.”

“The kind that gets locked up in a tower?”

He laughed and kissed your forehead sweetly. “Only if you try to leave me. But you’re not going to try something silly like that are you, love?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and shook your head. He was right, you needed him. He could provide for you and the child you carried, so you would behave.

“I won’t,” you whispered as your shoulders slumped.

“That’s my girl. I knew I chose right,” he hummed happily. “None of those other women could have been you.”

Cold dread shivered down your spine. “What women?”

“The others that applied to rent my apartment,” he said as pulled back to look into your eyes, a dark smile on his lips. “The one I own next door.”

[puck-luck]

give him six | trevor zegras

warnings: extreme domination. EXTREME domination. daddy kink because i do what i want. edging. spanking. cockwarming. at the same time. don’t worry about it. i do what i want. HINTS of anal play but they don’t actually do it. derogatory language (name calling…). crying during sex. sorry! spit kink. had to be done. subspace! ugh need a man to put me in that BAD bad pairing: trevor zegras x fem!reader summary/request: “thinking about trevor zegras needing to fuck his gf roughly after a tough game to let out his frustration bc i can sooooo see him being into that. but he’d always be looking out for u too, saying to tell him if it hurts and checking in to ask if she’s ok, but as soon as she assures him she is he’s just going absolutely nuts not holding back 🫠” wc: 4109

You don’t have to look at Trevor to see how angry he is. He lost a few weeks of hockey due to his broken ankle and now he was back– but he couldn’t make a fucking goal in a shootout to get the win for his team? The worst part was that his shot was denied not by the goalie, but by the post. By the fucking post. 

Trevor loves to flaunt his accuracy in the backyard, in the practice rink, even when tossing trash into the garbage bin, but the one time he doesn’t mean to hit the post, the puck does? It’s idiocracy. It’s humiliating. He’s better than this. He knows it, you know it, the whole world knows it. But St. Louis got to celebrate tonight, and maybe if he hadn’t hit the damn post, then he’d be celebrating with his teammates instead of stewing in your bed. 

His arms are crossed over his chest and the TV isn’t even on– you join him and want to laugh at the image of your pouty boyfriend wallowing in silence. You climb under the covers with Trevor. 

“You did really well, Trev,” you compliment, settling into the mattress.

“We should’ve won,” he replies.

You sigh. “You can’t win them all.”

Trevor scoffs. “Yeah, well, we could’ve won this one,” he snaps.

You stare at him for a moment while his tone really sets in. “You don’t have to talk to me like that,” you say, your voice growing cold. “I wasn’t out on the ice with you.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He, at least, sounds the part. He covers his face with his hands, the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. “I just– I’m so mad.”

You take a deep breath. You don’t have to be at work until 9 and it’s about five minutes away if you leave on time. You have to do the laundry tomorrow afternoon anyway. Trevor would feel better if you did this. You really wanted to sleep after the game tonight, but it would be a lie if you said you didn’t want to make him feel better. Another deep breath.

“Why don’t you take it out on me?” You ask.

Trevor looks over at you, surprise written all over his features. “Really?” He asks, like a child who was just told that he could have another candy before bed. “Like last time?”

Last time. You practically start salivating, thinking about how Trevor brought you to the edge and ripped you away from the cliff time after time, until you were sobbing and screaming and begging for a release. 

“Yeah, like last time,” you agree, already a little absent. Trevor notices, of course he does, he’s more in tune with your body than you are at this rate.

A smile tugs on the corner of Trevor’s lips, but he ignores it.

“Hands and knees,” Trevor says. “Right in front of me.”

You position yourself accordingly.

Trevor smooths a hand over your behind, your shirt riding up and exposing your skin due to the position you’re in. You hadn’t worn anything else to bed– why would you? You and Trevor had been together for ages and you weren’t exactly new to his… post-loss coping mechanisms. 

“Elbows,” Trevor corrects. His cock twitches when you immediately drop to your elbows, no hesitation in your movements. You’re silent, like he wants when you play like this, and you’ll do anything he says. You’re gorgeous like this, all spread out and listening to him with your head forward like a good girl, waiting for your next instruction.

You hear his voice over the thumping of your heart, although you’re not sure how. You’re always finding Trevor in the mess of everything. 

“Bite the sheets,” Trevor commands, shimmying out of his boxers. You can hear him moving and you take the bedsheets in your mouth, the fabric almost immediately saturating with your saliva. “Close your eyes.” You slide your eyes shut and wait, your shaky breath filling the room and heating your face.

Something warm probes at your entrance and for a moment, you can’t tell if it’s Trevor’s fingers or his cock. The answer comes to you via a sharp spank on your left cheek, with Trevor’s left hand. He always fingers you with his left hand so that he can keep his right around your neck– the hand that’s currently kneading your other cheek. 

He pushes his cock into you slowly, the movement more like he’s pulling you back than pushing you forward. 

“Six shots,” Trevor muses, watching his cock disappear into you. “Six shots, and I didn’t make one.”

You bite back the reassurance, swallowing it. Trevor doesn’t want to hear it.

“Do you know how that feels?”

You don’t answer. He still doesn’t want to hear it.

“I’ll show you,” Trevor promises, his voice deceptively soft. His hand rests against your skin, heavy and present. 

You get lost in the feeling easily, your mouth full of the comforter and your fingers twisted in the top sheet. Your eyes stay closed, the red-tinged darkness grounding you. 

“Yeah, I’ll show you,” he repeats, his voice darker this time. “You’re going to understand exactly what it feels like to come so close six times, just for all of that to be taken away from you.”

Your eyes open at his words and you pale. You spit the covers out and break your silence. “Six times?” You ask, incredulous. “Trev.”

“Daddy,” Trevor corrects with a spank. “Unless that’s… not what we’re doing tonight?”

You clench down on his length at the contact and the name, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sound of his voice. Trevor is playing with you, teasing you. His fingers are walking all over you– the small of your back, your cheeks, down your crack all the way to where he’s buried inside of you… and it’s distracting.

You find yourself nodding. “It is.”

“Good,” Trevor says. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make the second and third ones quick, okay?”

His voice is full of condescension, like he knows you’re going to lose track of everything as soon as he starts hitting you. He’s right, but that’s neither here nor there.

For as long as you’d been dating Trevor, you’d never seen him tap into the mindset that he has on the ice off the ice. However, when he’s bringing his hand down on your ass, he gets pretty damn close.

His spanks are precise and powerful. He’s leaving pink handprints all over your skin, from the fleshy parts of your ass to the top of your thighs, even a few falls over the hole that he’s not occupying. Each flash of his hand leaves your skin burning and your hips inching upwards, begging for more. All of this, and he’s still inside you– the torture of the spanking is that he isn’t moving, and you’re not supposed to.

You lose track of the count, feeling your stomach flip with each slap. What starts as stinging pain turns into aching pleasure, and the sensations aren’t lost on Trevor.

He feels you jolt each time he brings his hand down on your skin, the clench of your pussy around his cock, the pounding of your pulse from inside of you. Trevor smirks and shifts his hips forward as he brings his hand down, his hand making contact with your asshole just as his tip nudges against your g-spot.

You wail, lurching under Trevor’s watchful eye. You fuck back on his cock once, only managing the movement one measly time, before Trevor stills you with a hand and slides out of you.

“No,” you breathe out, voice muffled by your makeshift gag. 

“Yes,” Trevor replies, smug. “Isn’t it frustrating?”

You glare at him, turning so he can see the look on your face.

All it does is make him laugh. “Well, now I have to really punish you, don’t I?” He asks. “I can’t have my baby making angry faces at me.”

Trevor taps your hip, wordlessly telling you to move. You resume your original position next to him, expecting Trevor to tell you to put your “pretty little hand” on his cock and jerk him until he comes all over your freshly manicured fingers. 

You don’t expect him to slide under the covers and hike up your shirt until your breasts are exposed. Trevor hooks a leg around yours, his mouth exhaling warm air onto your nipple. His fingers tap at your skin, one hand on your side and the other on your mound, making its way south. 

“We’re going to do four like this,” Trevor tells you. His voice is merely a whisper, crawling over in your skin and raising goosebumps in its wake. “Just like this. I’m gonna take one,” he breathes, catching your nipple between his teeth for a split second before continuing. “Right here. Gimme one, baby, just from me licking your tits. I know you can.”

He dives in, tongue first. Your jaw drops as Trevor’s eyes close, the same way you know they do when you kiss him. It’s surreal, seeing him kiss and lick over your skin the way he normally does over your lips. His eyelashes flutter, the long, dark pieces of hair stealing your train of thought. 

Trevor surprises you with how quickly he brings you to the edge again. He promised that the second and third would be quick, but you didn’t know just how quick he meant.

You let out a strangled gasp and your hand flies to Trevor’s hair when he opens his eyes and lets his adoring gaze fix on your face. You pull him off your chest, heaving breaths filling your lungs. 

Trevor smirks, but it never quite reaches his eyes. The same look burns you, makes you shy under his gaze. You blush and look away, one of your hands covering the redness on your cheeks.

“Good,” Trevor remarks, a mere observation. “You got close, didn’t you, baby?”

You nod, still breathing heavily.

Trevor waits, expectant. He tilts his head down and blinks.

“Yes, Daddy,” you concede. “I was close.”

“Honest girl,” Trevor praises. His fingers dance over your slit. “Love you.”

“Love you,” you parrot back to him. 

Trevor rewards you by pushing one finger into your heat, pumping it in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. 

Your breath stays shaky, your eyes never leaving Trevor’s. His finger drags along your walls, petting the inside of you with its pad, and you swear you can feel the ridges of his fingerprint inside of you if you focus enough. 

It’s hard to focus on that when Trevor’s got his scrutinizing eyes on yours, though.

“What finger is it?” Trevor asks.

“What?” You stammer, finally blinking and breaking the trance. 

Trevor’s other hand flies up to steady your chin before you can look down and ruin his game. “Which finger–” Trevor asks, curling it inside you. “–am I fucking you with?”

Your brain stalls. It’s a no-brainer, really, you should know each of Trevor’s fingers by feel alone with how often they make their way inside of you. However, you’ve been denied two orgasms already and Trevor is close to taking a third from you with just his smug stare.

“Come on,” Trevor goads. “You know which finger this is, baby. The faster you tell me, the faster I get you to your orgasm.”

“Yeah, the faster you take it away,” you reply. 

Trevor’s eyes cloud over and he jams his finger inside you, increasing his pace. “Don’t be a bitch.”

You open your mouth to retort, but Trevor twists his finger inside of you.

“Unless you want me to fuck you like one,” he teases. 

You clench down on Trevor’s finger, his middle finger you realize, when he utters those words.

“You like that?” Trevor asks, unnecessarily. He can feel how you feel about it. “You like the idea of me getting my cock in you and fucking you like a damn animal? What is it, baby? Is it the primal instinct of it all or just the fact that I’m disciplining you like you’re worth less than I am?”

You moan at his words, logical responses and formed sentences too far from you to grasp.

“Tell me.” Trevor nudges your g-spot and you arch your back, your hips grinding against his finger… just for him to draw it out of you. “Not so fast. We’ve still got three more to go.”

“I was close,” you complain.

“So was I,” Trevor counters. “Hurts, doesn’t it? When things don’t work out the way you want them to?” 

“Trevor!” You frown, put off by his game.

“Well, now you’ve really done it,” Trevor growls, shoving two fingers inside of you and resting his thumb on your clit. “You know better than to call me by my name.”

You’re drenched in sweat and slick, so Trevor’s movements aren’t hindered in the slightest, not even when you squeeze your thighs shut. All Trevor does is push them open, trap your thigh under his bony knee. Somehow, even though you just had your legs spread, Trevor seems to push in further and rub your clit faster, hitting every right spot in alternating movements: clit, then g-spot, clit, then g-spot again. And over and over.

You don’t warn him this time, you don’t pull away. You try not to clench down, you try not to rock your hips, you try anything that might get you real relief from a real orgasm without Trevor noticing.

But it’s also a futile effort because your boyfriend knows you that well.

He withdraws his fingers just as your legs, the traitors, begin to tremble.

“Oh, baby, you didn’t think you’d get away with that, did you?” Trevor teases.

“Please,” you beg. “Please, Daddy.”

Trevor’s eyes flash with approval and he teases your entrance again, this time with a third finger. “Don’t worry,” he coos. “We’ve only got two more. Then I’ll let you come.”

You choke on your own spit when Trevor buries his three fingers inside of you, all in one motion. He doesn’t dawdle or stall for time. He doesn’t take advantage of the situation at hand– that you were already shaking for him and a pump of his fingers would give you away to the pleasure just on the other side of your approaching peak.

No, he doesn’t pump his fingers. He just wiggles them as deep as he can get them and smirks before dropping a kiss on your lips. He lowers himself then and blows cool air on your clit, spreading your folds with his other hand so the full bundle of nerves is revealed to him. He leans in and captures it with his tongue, lightly sucking on the bundle. It’s not the most friction he’s ever given you, but it’s consistent. He builds you up on his tongue, slowly, so slowly. 

And when your thighs close around his head, he stops. You’re aching for a release, tears building along your waterline. Your refractory period is shrinking with each near-orgasm, your babbles begging for Trevor to do something.

“I need it,” you beg, but the words feel more like a scream with how heavy they sit on your chest. 

“Oh, I know you need it,” Trevor replies, tone mocking. “You need it so bad, you’re acting up. Talking back, not using my name, not answering my questions, trying to trick me so that you can get an orgasm. I ought to leave you like this, really show you what it’s like to be left frustrated after a disappointing performance.”

“No,” you whimper. “No, Trevor, that’s too much.”

It’s not your word, it’s not a cry of pain, but it still gives Trevor pause. 

“Need me to be sweet to you?” Trevor asks, his eyes genuine and his hair wild from your wandering grasp.

You whine, arching your back. Trevor smiles fondly, but bats you away. When your back makes contact with the mattress again, Trevor’s deft fingers pinch your nipple and cause you to arch up a second time. He pushes you back down.

“Slut,” Trevor chastises. “Think you can distract me with your tits? This isn’t amateur hour, baby. I’ve still got to steal one orgasm from you.”

You blanch at that, your eyes wide. You take in every detail of his face, panting. There isn’t anything you could say that could stop him, except your word, but you’d rather curl into a ball and die than stop this right now. The words don’t come to you to tell him to continue, though.

“I’m going to get you so close,” Trevor whispers, his face close to yours. He leans down and kisses your neck. You arch into him, your once-useless hands finding his sides. You feel over the muscle there, his lean waist and strong chest. “You’re going to be right there, baby, and then I’m going to take it all away.”

“Please,” you repeat, but it’s indecipherable whether you’re begging Trevor to let you come or begging Trevor to leave you wanting more.

“Yeah,” Trevor agrees, sliding his three fingers back into your wet cunt. 

You moan sharply at the intrusion, pumping deep into you this time and dragging along your walls in a torturous way. It feels so good, it has you seeing white specks when you manage to open your eyes and look at Trevor. His eyes are trained on your cunt, watching your wetness seep all over his fingers. When you push his hair out of his face, his eyes lift to meet yours. 

His pupils are blown wide with lust and he’s got a snarl rumbling from deep in his chest. It is primal, you realize, the way he’s bullying his fingers into your cunt without a thought about what you can or can’t handle. He’s taking you, the way that you’ll only ever allow him to do.

“Gonna come?” Trevor asks, the evil smirk overtaking his face again.

“Please,” you beg again.

“‘Please,’” Trevor mocks. “Is that the only word you know?”

He pulses his hand, his fingers bouncing off your walls and causing you to jolt and scramble to find something to hold onto. That something ends up being Trevor’s hair and the pillow to your side. Your chest is heaving again, your nipples taut and pointed and begging to be touched. 

As Trevor’s eyes trail down your body at a snail’s pace, you can feel your orgasm approaching. You yank his hair and he winces, bringing his hand to your neck and squeezing in retaliation.

“Daddy,” you wheeze, the edge of your vision growing fuzzy and dark. It’s the only warning you can give Trevor as the cliff starts to crumble below you, as you start to fall away into the orgasm that was denied from you for so long.

And when Trevor pulls his fingers out of you, he yanks you back onto solid ground.

And, unsurprisingly, you start to cry.

It’s not pretty, either. It’s not a tear here and there when you’re deepthroating your boyfriend, or the beautiful running of mascara as he fucks your face at some hockey event. No, this is full-on sobbing, gut-wrenching cries that have Trevor taking inventory of all the things he did to you, wondering if he pushed you too far. He rubs your thighs with both of his hands in a soothing motion, ignoring the glistening precum that he’s inadvertently rubbing into your skin. 

“Baby,” Trevor murmurs. 

You sob and raise your arms, needing him to hold you. Trevor’s face softens immediately and he pulls you into his chest, turning so he’s sitting with his back against the headboard and you’re awkwardly dangling half on his lap, half off. You keen into his neck, burying your face in his soft, tan skin.

“My girl,” Trevor whispers, rubbing your arms now and pulling you closer to him, comforting you with his warmth. “You’re perfect.”

“Daddy,” you whisper into his neck. “Please.”

Trevor tilts your head back and looks into your eyes. His gaze looks sad, meeting your own, red and puffy. “Please what, baby?”

“I need your cock,” You plead, petting over his stomach with a hand that feels like its made of static. “I need you to make me come, Daddy.”

Trevor groans, sounding pained. He twitches beneath you. “Like this?” He asks.

You nod, losing your words again. It’s a timid but vehement nod, needing Trevor to press inside you more than anything, but not knowing if you could handle another ruined orgasm.

“Please, let me come this time,” you say, trying to look as pathetic and needy as you can. With big doe eyes like this, Trevor has always been bad at denying you the things you want. 

“Yeah, I think I’ve tortured you enough,” Trevor agrees, reaching under you and pressing his cockhead against your entrance. “Give me a bounce, baby. Wanna see your tits jump in front of my face, yeah?”

Trevor snakes his hands around to grab your bottom, his fingers tight against the skin. He uses his leverage to bounce you for him, knowing that you don’t have control over your movements as fucked out as you are, and he’d hate to see you cry more because you’re mad at yourself for not moving the way he wanted you to.

He lifts you up and down, snapping his hips up to meet yours when they fall. His eyes flicker between your boobs and your face, the teartracks drying over your cheeks as you allow yourself to be consumed by ecstasy. One of Trevor’s hands flies upward, tracing over your skin until he threads it between the strands of your hair. Once his whole hand is enveloped in your roots, he tugs and your mouth falls open.

Trevor leans forward and directs a glob of spit down your throat, his forceful hawk causing his spit to find the back of your throat. 

You convulse on top of him, trembling under his watchful gaze and his warm cock. “Daddy,” you pant, feeling like you’re burning and drowning in your desire for him. Trevor slips his thumb into your mouth as you come and you suck on it like a child, grinding against him through your aftershocks.

You’re floating on air by the time your aftershocks cease and Trevor pulls out of you gently, grasping his cock in his fist. He’s watching you and you’re watching him. Never breaking eye contact, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out.

Trevor presses his tip to your tongue and strokes his cock, squeezing on the downstroke and groaning curses with each turn of his hand. He comes just seconds later, his white ropes of come gracing your tastebuds. He pulls away after only a few drops intersect with your tongue, continuing to come in spurts over your cheeks, lips, and nose. A bit of come drips down the tip of your nose and you poke your tongue out again to try and catch it, which makes Trevor laugh.

Still lost in your post-orgasm haze, you barely notice when Trevor leaves the bed and comes back with a moist towel. He wipes your face, then your thighs and pussy, dropping a kiss on your lower belly after he’s finished. You let out a breath at that, not knowing that you were holding it, astounded by the fragility and intimacy of the moment.

“Daddy,” you say out loud, mostly just to yourself. Mostly just to feel the word on your tongue, feel it take its shape in your mouth. It sounds like awe.

Trevor deposits the towel in the hamper across the room with a toss, proving yet again that his precision and accuracy are off the charts most of the time. He crowds your space, tracing your features with his delicate pinky. “Did Daddy make you feel good, baby?” Trevor asks. “You made Daddy feel good.”

You whine at that and almost want to cry again at the praise. All the time you spent wondering if you were good enough, if you’d ever get a boyfriend who loved you and stayed with you was worth it when you found Trevor. He always said the right things, made you feel things you’d never felt before. 

“I love you,” you say.

Trevor slips his thumb into your mouth, watching your eyes close in bliss as he presses it against your tongue. You can still taste where he was rubbing your pussy with this digit.

“I love you,” he replies, voice soft. His voice sounds like awe, too.

note: small town girl chapter 1 next! (hopefully)

[in1-nutshell]

OK, we've seen how Soundwave takes care of other people's children.

But now I think it's time to see him as a parent. Could you write a story about a Soundwave x daughter with the opposite personality?

Another daughter to add to the list!

Will be adding her official canon name later on.

You can find it in the link at the bottom of the 'WELCOME' page.

Hope you enjoy!

Soundwave with a daughter with the opposite personality

SFW, Familial, Platonic, Cybertronain reader

TFP

Since the beginning Buddy had always kept Soundwave on his pedes

The first time they met cemented that fact.

Soundwave and Megatronus were walking back to their quarters when they spotted something moving in the ruble.

They didn’t think of anything at first, maybe it was a turbofox in the trash heap.

Soundwave froze in his tracks when he heard the familiar sounds of chirping coming from one of the bins.

Soundwave went closer and froze when he saw a sparkling inside the bin playing with some wires.

Before he could do anything, the trashbot had grabbed the bin with the sparkling in it.

Soundwave: “Megatronus!”

Soundwave started climbing on the large trashbot. Megatronus: “Soundwave what are you doing?!” Soundwave trying to reach the bin: “There’s a sparkling in the bin!” Little chirps get louder. Megatronus: “By the Allspark!” Later… Orion walking to the gladiator’s quarters. Megatronus: “Orion!” Orion smiles as he turns around: “Mega—By the Pious Pool! What happened to you two!?” Megatronus and Soundwave were covered in dirty and scraps. Soundwave had a little bundle in his arms. Orion: “Is that a sparkling?” Soundwave: “Yes.” Orion: “How did all of… this happen?” Megatronus and Soundwave: “Trashbot.”

Soundwave had originally planned on taking her to the nearby orphanage the next day.

He was a gladiator for Primus sake!

He wasn’t fit to be a caretaker.

But all that changed when he was outside the doors of the orphanage.

The little chirps and buzzes from the sparkling grew louder as he drew closer.

Soundwave’s servo ghosted over the handles of the doors looking down at the sparkling.

The sparkling had gently placed both their servos on his faceplate.

Megatronus in his habsuite sharpening his blades. Soundwave enters the room. Megatronus without looking up: “I see you’ve finally return—” Soundwave: “Hold please.” Megatronus looks up and is shocked to see the sparkling from the day before being thrusted into his faceplate. He quickly holds the giggling sparkling: “I thought you were going to return her?” Soundwave: “She’s mine now.” Megatronus: “What?” Soundwave: “Mine.”

It was difficult to keep the sparkling safe within the arena and quarters.

For one, Soundwave and Megatronus had made more allies within the gladiator ranks to help keep watch of the little one, especially when inspections came around.

And two, this sparkling was highly energetic, clumsy, and accidental prone.

Thankfully if Buddy liked the babysitters, all they had to worry was the sparkling getting a new dent from touching a smooth surface.

However, if she doesn’t like them, Buddy is going to hide.

No one has been successful in finding the sparkling.

It’s only when Soundwave is at the front door is when she comes out.

When Soundwave has repairs done, it’s usually Uncle Megatronus and the minicons who watch over her.

Soundwave enters the habsuite ready to pick up Buddy. He sees Megatronus lightly tossing Buddy in the air with Lazerbeak playfully hovering nearby. CLICK! Megatronus freezes hearing the click pulling the sparkling closer to his chassis. He turns to see Soundwave with a picture him and Buddy on his visor. Megatronus: “Soundwave… delete that.” Soundwave: “I’ll delete it.” Megatronus: "Good—” Soundwave: "After I send this to myself and to Pax.” Megatronus: "Soundwave! He doesn’t need—I mean—no one needs to see that!” Soundwave: “Too late.” With Orion… Orion nearly spits out his energon cube seeing the picture. Ratchet looking at him with some concern: “You all right Pax?” Orion coughs a bit before showing him the photo. Ratchet nearly glitches seeing it.

On certain inspection days, Buddy is sent to Uncle Orion and Uncle Ratchet until the inspection is over.

Soundwave is not as close to the bots as Megatronus is, but he trusts Megatronus enough to let her go.

He still has no idea what made her love the two bots so much.

Buddy loves her little family.

But things started to change when Megatronus finally got his movement going.

The movement for change.

The movement that made Soundwave take a vow of silence.

Buddy understood to a point it was to help Uncle Megatronus… but that didn’t mean the transition was smooth.

It got easier to read Soundwave’s frame movements over time, but to say it was a pain to understand at first would be an understatement.

Soundwave pointing to the top of the shelf. Buddy: “I can get it for you!” Buddy starts piling some boxes and data pads to reach the top of the shelf. Buddy holding something: “Is this it?” Soundwave shakes his helm before pointing again. Buddy throws the object over her shoulder and grabs another object: “How about this thing?” Soundwave shakes his helm before looking at the pile shake. He starts rushing to the pile as it falls. Buddy shrieks as she falls. BAM! The two end up falling in the heap. Buddy suddenly bursts out laughing. Soundwave had a box stuck on his helm.

Buddy didn’t quite understand what had happened between Uncle Megatronus, now Megatron, and Orion, now Optimus Prime.

All she was told was that Orion was a traitor and any of his follwers were now considered the enemy.

Buddy took those words to spark.

While she could not agree with everything the Decepticon’s did, she was still a Con through and through.

Buddy wanted to join the spy division just like her father, but it was immediately denied by both him and Megatron himself.

Megatron: “Buddy, this is just getting repetive at this point. Our answer is no.” Soundwave: “No.” Buddy pouting a bit: “If I can just get a chance to prove that I can be just a good spy—” Megatron: “Buddy, you do not have the necessary skill set a spy has.” Buddy waves her servos back: “What makes you say that!” Buddy’s servo bumps into a passing drone, who in return bumps into several other drones in an almost domino effect before a bucket goes flying and lands on her helm; she yelps a bit trying to get it off only to smack face first into the wall. Megatron and Soundwave wince at the display. Soundwave walks over and carefully plucks the bucket from her helm. Buddy looks at him with a sheepish expression. Soundwave: “You have… your… answer…no… spying for… you.”

Instead, Buddy gets partnered up with Breakdown in overseeing the Vechicons.

It wasn’t a bad job really.

Most of the Vechicons were nice and she rather enjoyed working alongside Breakdown.

Breakdown doesn’t mind working with the youngest Con on the Nemeisis.

In a way it was refreshing, especially after dealing with Starscream.

Since buddy worked so close to Breakdown, it was only natural that she’d get close to Knockout.

Knockout cares for the kid, he does.

But by Primus does he nearly get strokes every time she comes into the medbay with new dents or something on her frame.

Knockout finally finishing cleaning his tools. Knockout: “Finally! Its was about time I—” KNOCK! KNOCK! Breakdown enters in with Steve and a large crate wheeled behind them. Knockout: “Did we get new equipment?” Buddy from inside the crate: “Not yet.” Knockout jumps a bit before looking inside the crate. Buddy was at the bottom of the crate in a slightly cramped position. Knockout looking at Breakdown and Steve: “And pray tell how did… this happen?” Breakdown and Steve both give each other a look. Breakdown: “Its best you don’t know.” Buddy: “If its okay with you guys, I’d really like to feel my pedes on the floor and not so close to my helm.” Knockout sighs before looking for the chainsaw: “Can’t wait to hear this story.”

[24hlevi]

aiden clark flufff plsssssssssss

normally i don't accept reqs like this but i already had something in mind so, you got lucky!

— 3:12 A.M.

aiden clark (sbg) x gn!reader

summary: trying to convince aiden to go to sleep well past a normal hour

warnings/tags: language, established relationship

"aiden, we need to sleep. seriously."

"what?! it's only like, 11 though!"

"it's 3 in the morning."

you stare at aiden with a deadpan expression on your face, eye bags already forming under your eyes as you point at the clock behind him that he doesn't even bother to look at before wrapping his arms around you.

"oh, come on, babe! it's not that late!" he complains, shaking you around a bit.

"i'm tired, aiden," you sigh, letting him shake you around while shaking your head.

"but you said you'd pull an all nighter with me!" he whines even more, shaking you more aggressively now.

you roll your eyes at his words and antics. "that was before our terrible time in the phantom world. i'm tired as shit, aiden," you tell him, pulling yourself out of his grip and picking up the trash off the bed to throw it in the bin.

"babe!!" aiden says, getting up and following behind you like a puppy as you walk out of his bedroom into the kitchen. "i promise tomorrow won't be as bad!"

"we have a test tomorrow morning, if we don't get to sleep now we're surely going to fail," you respond, throwing the trash away and turning back around to look at him.

"we won't fail!" aiden whines again, wrapping his arms around your waist. "you're so boring!" he groans loudly.

"i know," you pat his head a few times. "if you go to sleep now i promise we can pull an all nighter tomorrow night," you try to compromise, looking at him.

"hm," aiden hums, pondering on the thought for a few moments. "fine, i guess," he eventually says with a nod.

"good, come on," you reply, starting to walk back to the bedroom as he trails behind you with his arms still around you.

you two make it back to the bedroom and aiden immediately plops down on his ginormous bed which you climb into a moment later. as soon as you lay down aiden has his arms wrapped around you again and he's intertwining your legs together with his.

"are you actually going to sleep or just sit here on your phone?" you ask him, already knowing you'll wake up in a couple hours due to the full brightness of his phone he never lowers.

"i'll sleep, promise," he murmurs into your shoulder.

"you know your eyes are gonna be irritated tomorrow," you tell him.

"i know," he says with a short nod. "i'll be fine."

"sure," you let out a light chuckle. "just sleep, we only have a few hours before we have to get up."

"fine," aiden groans again.

after a moment, aiden closes his eyes and you can hear his breathing slow down to an even pace, and you roll your eyes. "not tired my ass," you mumble to yourself before closing your eyes as well.

"i heard that."

[fafnir19]

To: @alldaystress

The dull buzz of the alarm clock jars you awake, its persistent ringing a stark contrast to the dreary morning. You groan, rolling over in your bed, the sheets tangled around your legs. It's another day at the new job, a position you reluctantly accepted after months of unemployment. As you stretch, your fingers graze the worn fabric of the old band t-shirt you've slept in, a remnant of your college days when you cared more about music and rebellion than grades. It’s your first job after college, but it's not the career launch you'd hoped for. Your grades, never stellar, landed you in this entry-level position with no real prospects for advancement. You had always struggled with commitment, both in your studies and personal life, and your grades reflected that. College was a blur of late nights, parties, and a general lack of direction. Now, at 24, you find yourself starting at the bottom of the corporate ladder, feeling like you've wasted precious years. As you get ready for the day, pulling on a pair of faded jeans and a wrinkled button-down shirt, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your dark brown hair, slightly unkempt, frames your average face, its roundness accentuated by the soft jawline. Brown eyes stare back at you, lacking the spark of confidence and determination that many of your peers seem to possess.

This week you had a boring week-long business convention planned in another city and your taxi to the airport was already waiting for you. You sigh, knowing that today is another step towards a future you're not entirely sure you want.

The hotel lobby is bustling with activity as you step inside, your eyes adjusting to the elegant chandelier's glow. It's a far cry from your usual haunts, a world of luxury you've only ever glimpsed from the outside. You had always felt like an outsider, your rebellious nature a barrier to fitting in. But today, you're here for a convention, a rare opportunity to network and perhaps, just perhaps, find a way out of your dead-end job.

"Welcome to the Grand Summit Hotel," a familiar voice called out. You freeze, recognizing the voice immediately. Jennifer, a former classmate from high school, stands behind the counter, her expression a mix of amusement and mockery.

She was always a bit of an oddball, claiming to be a witch and nerved anyone who crossed her. You had mocked her relentlessly back then, earning the nickname 'Golden Boy' as a sarcastic reference to your lack of ambition and low physical prowess and mediocre grades.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't our Golden Boy!" Jennifer leans forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. You remember her all too well—the self-proclaimed witch who always had a sarcastic remark ready, especially for you.

*So much for witchcraft,* you thought. *She’s stuck here, while I’m—well, still in a dead-end job too.*

“Nice to see you too, Witchie,” you shot back, unable to resist. Her nickname always had a way of irking you, but today, it felt more playful than biting. She chuckled, a sound that surprisingly warmed the space between you. “We’re fully booked, but I had the choice to give you a room by the trash bins. Lucky for you, I decided you deserve an upgrade!” She flashed a smirk, her expression a mix of mischief and genuine friendliness. Puzzled, you raised an eyebrow. “An upgrade? From you? What’s the catch?” She laughed, a melodic sound that echoed through the spacious lobby. “No catch. Just consider it a friendly gesture. Besides, I’m a little tired of being known as the girl who lost to the ‘Golden Boy.’” You followed her to the top floor, the elevator climbing steadily. As the doors opened, you stepped into the suite, your breath hitching. The sleek black and silver design was modern and striking, like something straight out of a high-end ad. Your heart raced with a mix of disbelief and admiration. “Wow,” you breathed, glancing around. “This is... impressive.”

You tossed yourself onto the oversized bed, the silk sheets feeling like a decadent cloud. “I could get used to this,” you said, a cocky grin spreading across your face. In a playful move, Jennifer tossed the silk bed cover over you, covering you completely. “Now you’re just a golden burrito!” You laughed, your voice muffled beneath the fabric. “At least I’m a cozy one!” The game was on, and you attempted to wriggle free, planning to retaliate with a pillow. Yet, the cover was more confining than expected, and your struggles only entangled you further. "Hey, let me out!" you shouted, your voice muffled by the silk. But your struggles only resulted in Jennifer's laughter. "Jennifer, this isn't funny!" you called out, a hint of panic creeping in. "Relax, Golden Boy," her melodic voice replied, followed by a soft laugh. "Relax and lay down, Golden Boy," Jennifer's voice, now serious, instructed. "You're making this harder than it needs to be." You froze, realizing she wasn't playing anymore.

Her hands found your shoulders, gently but firmly pushing you down. "No need to fight it. Surrender to the silk." The sensation of her touch through the silk was peculiar. It was as if the fabric had become an extension of her, caressing your skin, making you hyperaware of every nerve ending. "What... what are you doing?" you managed to utter, your voice weak against the tide of pleasure and surprise. "Shh," she whispered, her breath warm against your ear. "No more resistance. You've always been a fighter, but here, now, it's time to let go." Her fingers traced patterns on your chest, sending shivers down your spine. "Listen to my voice, Golden Boy. Let it guide you." Your body felt leaden, as if a weight was pulling you deeper into the bed. "I... I can't move," you stammered, the realization hitting you. "That's right," she cooed, her finger now resting gently on your lips. "You don't need to. It's liberating, isn't it? No more expectations, no more pretending." Her words were like a spell, each one binding you further. "You've never truly been in control, have you? Not in school, not in life. It's exhausting, fighting it all the time."

You tried to argue, but the words caught in your throat as her hands glided lower. "W-wait," you stammer, your voice weak and you realize with a start that she's touching you intimately, despite your protests. "Oh, look at that," she purred with satisfaction, her fingers caressing the growing bulge that was appearing in the sheets. . "You're responding beautifully. Let the horniness flow through you. Don't fight it, not even for a second." Her hand stroking over your silk-covered erection, and you gasp as pleasure surges through you. "Oh... but I..." Your words trail off as her touch ignites a fire within you. You're hardening under her touch, the throbbing between your legs contradicting your sexual orientation. "Oh, Golden Boy, don't fight it. I know you're gay, but your body knows what it wants. It's natural, just let it happen." Her voice is almost hypnotic, and you find yourself agreeing, your body craving more. "Y-yes..." You moan softly as her strokes become more insistent, your cock straining against the silk. "Shh... It's okay to want this," she whispers, her fingers continuing their sensual dance. "Let go of your inhibitions. You're so eager, so responsive. It's perfect." Your mind is spinning, the sensation of her touch overwhelming. You feel yourself sinking further into the bed, the silk sheets caressing your skin.

"That's it," Jennifer cooed, her fingers now stroking the length of your hardened cock. "You have no choice but to feel. No choice but to be exactly what you are in this moment. Nothing else matters." Your mind was blank, filled only with the need to surrender, to let go of everything but the pleasure. The world around you fades, and all that's left is the silk, her touch, and the pleasure coursing through your veins. You are sinking, surrendering to the sensation, to her. "You're doing exactly what you should, Golden Boy. So eager to please, so ready to obey." Her voice is a distant hum as you descend deeper into the bed, the darkness enveloping you.

"You're doing perfectly. No more thinking, just feeling. You're so horny, so ready to please." The silk caressed every inch of your skin, and you sank deeper, the mattress molding around you. "Yes, surrender to it," Jennifer whispered, her voice distant yet commanding. "Forget who you were. You're Golden Boy now, eager, obedient. No more doubts, no more resistance." The room spun as you sunk further, the silk a dark, sensuous cocoon. "Yes, let it consume you," she whispers, and then, darkness. The last thing you felt was the silk against your skin, and then nothing. The suite fell silent, and Jennifer, with a satisfied smile, smoothed the covers, erasing all traces of your existence.

The darkness enveloped you, and time became an abstract concept as you lay there, unconscious.  But soon, a sensation stirred you from your slumber, a feeling of being stretched and pulled, awakening your senses. It was then that you realized, with a jolt of horror, you weren't just lying on a bed anymore. "Oh, fuck," a deep, masculine voice groaned above you. You were being pulled taut, and the realization hit you— you were a silk sheet, and beneath you was a man's throbbing erection and he was jerking off.

Marcus, the handsome executive, lay there, his eyes closed in pleasure, completely oblivious to your presence. His hands gripped the silk—you—and began to stroke himself, the friction of his movements sending shivers through your transformed body. "Oh, yes," he moaned, his voice deep and husky. "This silk feels incredible."

The tip of his cock, hard and pulsating, pressed against you, and a drop of pre-cum oozed from the slit, seeping into your silky fabric. The intimate contact sparked a surprising reaction within you. The horror you initially felt began to melt away, replaced by a strange, unfamiliar joy.

The pleasure he derived from your silkiness was intoxicating. You wanted to please him, to be used for his pleasure, to be the best silk sheet he had ever experienced. The thought of being a mere object of desire filled you with a sense of purpose. You were grateful to be the vessel of his satisfaction, a tool for his release.

As he continued to stroke, your transformation began to reverse, the silk giving way to flesh, muscle, and bone. As his strokes grew faster, so did your transformation. You could feel your body changing, the silk fabric becoming skin once more. The process was slow, but with each stroke of his cock, you were coming back to life, back to being human. You emerged from the silk, your body now straddling Marcus, your legs on either side of his waist. With that, you began instinctively to move, rising and falling on his shaft, your body now fully restored to its human form. The pleasure was unlike anything you'd experienced before. You rode him with a newfound confidence, your movements fluid and graceful. "Yes, that's it," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your motions. His intense gaze locked onto you, a mixture of satisfaction and predatory hunger flashing across his face. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice low and commanding. You paused, searching your mind.

The name on the tip of your tongue feels foreign. "Golden Boy," you blurted out, unsure why those words came to mind. It felt right, yet wrong at the same time. A sense of unease washes over you as you realize you can't remember anything else. "Perfect," Marcus purrs, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Let's see if Jennifer delivered on her promise." As if on cue, you glanced at the mirror, barely recognizing the reflection staring back at you. The person in the mirror was younger, their face sculpted with sharp, defined features. Lean muscles rippled beneath smooth, hairless skin, and your eyes widened at the sight of your own chiseled physique. But it was your hair that drew your attention—short golden locks with shaved sides, a stark contrast to your previous unkempt style. Before you could fully process your transformation, Marcus flipped you onto your back with a swift, dominant move.

You gasped as his hard length pushed into you, and you instinctively tried to resist, declaring, "I'm a top!" "You're a top, huh?" he whispers, his hot breath tickling your ear. "Well, I'm your mentor now, and I'll teach you a thing or two about success." You struggle against his hold, a surge of defiance rising within you. But his words ignite a spark of curiosity, and you find yourself intrigued by the idea of learning from this powerful man.

He whispered, "I'll teach you the path to success." His words ignited a fire within you, a desire to embrace this new version of yourself. You struggled against his hold, not out of resistance, but from the sheer thrill of it. As he overpowered you, his weight pressing down, you realized this was how he asserted his dominance. You spread your legs, surrendering to the moment, your body arching to meet his thrusts. "You like not being in control, don't you, Golden Boy?" he purred, his voice a seductive caress. "Especially when I'm the one in charge." The truth of his words hit you hard. You craved his control, the power he exuded, and the promise of success he offered. "Yes," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. "Yes, I do." Marcus's thrusts became more urgent, his body a blur of motion above you. "You will be successful, determined, and superior," he growled. "But with me, you are obedient, my loyal subject." His words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you cried out, "Yes, Sir! Make me yours!" As if your surrender was the final piece he needed, Marcus's body tensed, and he spilled his release inside you. Your own cock, throbbing with need, refused to find release. Marcus noticed your torment, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Cum, Golden Boy," he commanded, his voice laced with power. At his words, your orgasm exploded, and you came with a force that left you breathless.

With your climax, the rebellious spirit is gone, replaced by a burning desire to fit in and succeed, no matter the cost. You smiled, a new determination burning in your transformed eyes. You knew, without a doubt, that Marcus was the mentor you needed, and you would do whatever it took to climb the ladder of success by his side.

The transformation had left you with a new sense of purpose, and as you stepped out of the shower, feeling the warm water wash away the remnants of your old self, you couldn't help but smirk at the thought of Marcus' words. "Now you are mine, I own you," he had said, and you were ready to embrace this new path.

Marcus appeared in the bathroom, his tall, commanding figure filling the doorway. He holds a sleek dress shirt, the kind you've always associated with the old-money elite, and drapes it over your shoulders. You grimace; this is not your style, not who you used to be. "Thanks, but this isn't really my thing," you say, attempting to assert a fragment of your old self. "Oh, but it is, Golden Boy," Marcus purred, his breath warm on your ear. "It's exactly what you've always wanted. You want to be my right hand, don't you?" His words held a hypnotic quality, and you felt your resistance fading. The idea of being his trusted confidant, his right-hand man, began to take root in your mind, pushing aside your old identity. "Tell me, who are you?" Marcus's voice was soft, almost tender. "Golden Boy," you heard yourself say, the words flowing effortlessly. "Your right hand. The epitome of future success." As Marcus buttons up the shirt, his fingers brushing against your skin, you feel a surge of loyalty and desire to please him. The thought of being his right hand, of being an integral part of his empire, is exhilarating. The last remnants of your past life seemed to drift away, like a fading dream and a new identity is being forged, one that is charismatic, confident, and utterly devoted to Marcus. You were no longer the rebellious outsider; you were Golden Boy, a name that now felt like a perfect fit.

The door clicks open, and Jennifer enters, her eyes flickering between you and Marcus. "Do you want to pay cash or by card for my witchcraft?" she asks, her voice laced with satisfaction. Marcus reaches into his pocket and produces a thick wad of bills, handing them to Jennifer with a satisfied grin. "You've exceeded my expectations. I'm impressed, Jennifer." You watch as Jennifer takes the money, her eyes sparkling with triumph. As she turns to leave, you point at her, confusion clouding your mind. "Do I know her?" Marcus's laughter fills the room, warm and rich. "No, Golden Boy. She is a part of your past, and your past no longer holds any significance. Focus on your future, on our future." And in that moment, you knew he was right. Your past life, your struggles, and even your memories were fading into the void. All that mattered was your new identity, your role as Golden Boy, and your mentor, Marcus. As you walked past the reception, Jennifer's eyes followed you. She couldn't help but notice the change. Your stride was confident, your posture proud, and your attire exuded the old-money style.

A vain smirk played on your lips, and Marcus' possessive hand rested on your shoulder. *How sweet you look now, Golden Boy,* Jennifer thought, a hint of satisfaction in her smile. *Nomen est Omen. You should have known better than to cross a witch, back in high school.* But you didn't hear her. Your mind was already focused on the future, on the success that awaited you, and on the powerful man by your side. The old you is gone, and in his place stands a man with a purpose, a man ready to conquer the world at Marcus's side. You were Golden Boy, and nothing else mattered.

[the-possum-writes]

could you do a detailed smut/fluff with adult!Finn after reader has been away on an adventure?

Long time no see 🔞

❥Character: Finn Mertens

❥Tags: NS/FW, gender neutral reader, private parts aren't specified, Face sitting, Oral, Established Relationship, Fluff, Vanilla, No beta,

❥Synopsis: Coming back to Finn after spending months climbing through snow covered mountains. As much as you love traveling, you love him even more.

❥Wordcount: 2400

❥Taglist: @watchingfromthefloorboards @foxpearlwilder

With the treefrort being no taller than a sapling it made it harder to find Finn's mobile home with how much he loves to move around without telling you, but the again, you can't say no to a challenge. 

The air is humid, and the sky grows gloomier as clouds block off the day's final rays of sunlight. The trinkets on your backpack clink together as you hike uphill toward the parked metallic trailer, where the candy horses are already preparing for sleep; any doubts about no one being home are thrown out the window when orange light shines behind the solitary door. A single knock is made while speaking clearly. "Sir Mertens, we've come to discuss your expired warranty," you say as solemnly as you can.

Footsteps approach you as a muffled voice talks from inside the trailer. "A warranty? But I paid choose goose years ago." When the door finally opened, Finn was shocked to see you instead of some unscrupulous lawyer. Even in this temperature, he is dressed in just a pair of faded gray tank top and a pair of denim shorts. He is just as you remember, tall, chubby, but neither too skinny nor excessively jacked up, and his blond beard matches the blond hairs on his head that aren't covered by his customary bear hat. However, he appears to be immune to the autumn season since when he greeted you with a bear hug, you felt firsthand how naturally warm he truly is, with his body heat surrounding you even through the layer of clothes you dressed yourself for travels.

After a minute of hugging you, he laughs in your ear and releases you. "I should've known better; lawyers wouldn't bother trekking up this steep hill just to charge me with a stupid warrant."

"You obviously never met a lawyer then, they're more relentless than a honey badger with a grudge." you point out. This gained another laugh from Finn, "Come inside! you look like you've fought one yourself."

And he wasn't lying, expeditions didn't really leave you looking fresh like a cabbage.

As you step inside his cozy trailer you soon realize why Finn was dressed in light clothes, it's just as warm as he is with the orange lights coming from a heater in the corner of the main area that looks like a living room, a few more looks around the place hold the trademarks of a single occupant, empty pizza boxes stacked together in the trash bin, clean but unfolded laundry basket out in the open and countless trinkets, weapons and treasures mounted on every inch of the walls. You drop your backpack to the carpeted floor as you take in the details of the treasures, some look familiar to you while others are completely brand new. You make a mental note to ask about them later for now you only have one thing in mind as you remove your coat.

"I'mma hog the shower bit." you affirm, not really asking for permission but you do toss in a suggestion for good measure. "You could use one too, I may look the part but you smell more like a badger than me." 

Finn scoffs at your jab until he caught a whiff of himself and agreed non verbally. The last thing you saw before closing the door to the bathroom was Finn grabbing two towels from the cupboard but not a pair of new clothes considering the basket was right there, it sent a shiver down your spine and settled in your stomach, but you choose to ignore it for now as you get your priorities straight.

The sigh you release when the warm water crashed on your body could easily be confused for something pornographic, but considering the rough terrain you've traveled through and the rough weather outside it's no brainier you'd feel so satisfied with something as mundane as a hot shower. Your hands are combing through the knots in your hair when you heard Finn follow you into the shower, you step aside to allow him some room under the shower head as he shakes his head like a dog. "Can you pass me the shampoo? it's on the sink." he asks, eyes closed as he lavishes in the hot water just like you did earlier. You poke your head out of the shower curtain to retrieve the bottle on the ledge of the sink, almost laughing your ass off when you read it's one of those '13 in one for men' brand. "For real? why not have a shampoo and conditioner like Jake did?" you snort.

"Hey, I'm a busy guy. Why waste my time with a ton of bottles if one has it covered?" is his defense, but you comply nevertheless as you squeeze the shampoo over his open palm as he washes his rowdy blond locks with it, you can't help but feel a twinge of jealously, Finn could use car shampoo and his hair would still look majestic and soft. Good genes i suppose. Your eyes went to the single hand washing his hair with his other shoulder leading to a scarred stump you've seen replaced with a multitude of weapons and robotic prosthetics but now it's just as nude as the rest of him. He helps you out with your own hair, scrubbing your back and even cleaning behind your ears like a cat grooming it's partner, and yet you allow him, let him satiate his touch starved need with these caresses on your body that don't necessarily lead to anything promiscuous under the shower head but knowing the two of you it's just a matter of time. He's the first to walk out of the bathroom, handing you your towel as he dries out his long hair in his bedroom. While you follow behind his steps it's like walking in on an undisturbed nymph bathing in a pond during golden hour, with the orange light casting striking shadows and highlights over every noteworthy angle on his body, from his sturdy thighs to his firm shoulders and lastly his prominent ass, it's like you're hypnotized when you slowly walk up to him to wrap your arms around his midriff and press your exposed body to his. "So, what did you bring me from your trip?" Finn asks softly while lowering his hand to meet with yours, caressing your scarred knuckles with his large thumb.

"Since when am i obligated to bring you stuff from my trips? there's not exactly any souvenir shops on top of freezing mountains." you jest, resting the side of your head against his back as your other hand trails up and down his hairy navel, feeling his muscles tense down south.

"You always bring me something," he snorts, "Either way, I'm glad you came back safely."

Finn tosses the wet towel elsewhere as he turns around to face you, expediently but suddenly smashing his lips against yours with a fervor you've only witnessed when he's fighting monster taller than himself, he doesn't leave any spot of your mouth untouched with drooling dripping from the corner of your mouth as you caress his tongue with your own in a cacophony of grunts and gasps that escape past your hot breaths. Finn drops himself back into the edge of his bed and brings you along with him with the only thing keeping you above him being your knee in between his parted legs, if his body is naturally warm like a radiator then the growing length nestled in his loins is overbearingly hot, you raise your knee to tease more of him in an attempt to seek more of the noises that were getting caught in his throat. Seeking more from him, you quit the teasing and get down to your knees, kissing the interior of his firm thighs as you make way to the bulbous pink tip eagerly twitching in your direction. You place one smooch on Finn's tip, before placing another, and another until you take his entire gland past your chapped lips, humidifying them with the droplets of precum slipping through his head as you take more of him with a needy groan.

Finn fidgets a bit in his spot, you raising your view to see him lovingly staring back at you through his gorgeous blonde eyelashes, compelling you to take more of him as you keep eye contact so the memory of you stuffing your mouth with his cock becomes engraved in every cell in his brain. Finn's mouth opens up ever so slightly to expel sighs, grunts and whines every time you bob your head up and down, focusing on the way your tongue swirls around his tip like a lollipop. He's so painfully close it has you aching for him more than all those nights you spent alone on snowy terrain, so you removed yourself from his cock with a final slurp and an audible pop, leaving behind a mess of saliva dripping down your tongue. "...ah, ah, not yet." you insist, ignoring your pained knees as you stand up in front of Finn, softly pushing him on his back as you climb him like a tree.

Almost as if he read your mind, Finn grabbed hold of you with a single hand. "Come here," he pulls your hips to his face, stuffing his mouth with everything you could offer to him. You gasp in bewilderment as Finn takes in as much as he can in his own mouth, sucking, nibbling and letting his tongue run wild all over you as your body instinctively jerks back and forth while tugging on his blonde hair. The action has Finn growling from under you, with his own hips jutting forward even though there's nothing to rut against, Finn has learned to become a patient man when it comes to his urges but it's like the build up from months without any lewd contact finally went to his head and has him tapping into a lustful state. And boy, you're all in for it. You remove yourself from Finn's face, ushering the most basic english through needy pants. "Need you inside, now."

This has Finn tossing you to your side, keeping you in place as he dips his head in between the crook of your neck and shoulder to lick and bite to his pleasure. He guides his fingertips to the opening of your mouth, letting him wet his digits with the excessive saliva pooled in your tongue as you got his fingers nice and wet. It's in your best interest after all. "That's it babe, i need 'em nice and slick, I want you to take me... all of me..." he whispers in your shoulder. After he's satisfied with the copious amount of drool he guides them to your already wet opening (thanks to his own saliva from earlier) and slips in one finger after another, poking and prodding inside you as he stretches you out a bit. His touch has every nerve in your your legs twitching, growing accustomed to the isolation and lack of his touch after all this time has you whimpering like it's your first time with him, and Finn dwells in this. "Missed me after all huh? or did you miss my cock?" Finn replaces his fingers for his hot rob, rubbing the tip over your entrance in a teasing manner just like when you rubbed your knee against him.

"Everything. I missed everything about you Finn-" you confess absolutely breathless, taking his mouth for another kiss as his slips himself inside you, with both of your grunting in unison.

"I missed you to," is the last time you hear him speak in a soft tone. "...Won't keep you waiting." Finn's voice struggles to sound coherent as he secures his arm around your midriff as he drills into you from behind, already starting with a rough pace as he keep true to his word like the knight he is. Your cries of ecstasy combine with his own mix of grunts and growls, even biting into your shoulder to add more marks to the growing collection on your skin. Finn didn't stop his onslaught on your for a second, not when he switched your positions and laid you on your back as he raised your legs over his shoulder to fuck deeper into your wanton body, taking in all of his rough biting that you returned with long scratches on his already scarred back, the angle not only allow for deeper thrusts but it also gave you a beautiful view of his gorgeous body. Just like the treasure mounted on his wall, some of his scars were familiar while there were new ones to the collection, one of them being the unfinished tattoo decorated over his beefy hairy chest, you run your hands over his torso, feeling the muscle underneath flex with every movement Finn provides both for your pleasure and his love for you. It's these touches of yours that has Finn slow down from his heated session against your lower regions to dwell a bit in the feelings that have you two in this situation in the first place, his thrusts become slow and shallow, taking the time to release his hold on your thigh to grab your hand and kiss your knuckles which although were scarred and calloused they felt soft against Finn's lips.

The moment is tender in it's own right, and yet it doesn't fail to have you craving for this silly man all over again. You nudge him with the sole of your foot, silently prompting him to continue.

Finn resumed his onslaught into your warm insides but with more adoring looks and complements that remind you that you're also worthy of his love and attention. "You're taking me so good... No one else can rile me up like this..." Finn calls out your name multiple times, feeling himself near the edge as his hips loose rhythm in favor of faster and harder pelvic thrusts that feel like he's straight up rearranging your guts.

"Finn, Finn please...please..." you find yourself begging, almost teary eyed.

Finn complies and smooches you one last time, driving you to that sweet sweet liberation that has you aching your back and wrapping your legs around Finn's waist, meanwhile he releases a combination of desperate whimpers and grunts as he empties a vast amount of pent up come inside your tight little hole that rushes out from around him and leaks into his bed sheets. The blow up has Finn crashing down on you, needing to tap him in the arm to remind him he's crushing you.

"My bad." he rolls sideways but not without pulling your against him, as he closes his eyes to take in the feeling of you body against his no matter how sweaty the two of you are.

You in return, appreciate his peaceful face from up close. To the scar on his cheek from the beard scattered over his lower jaw, he's marvelous, not to mention when he finally opens his eyes to look at you with those glistening pools of blue. "Like what you see?" he jokes, smiling at you despite the few missing teeth.

"Very much," you place a kiss on his nose, watching him scrunch it a bit.

"Well, if you stay for the weekend i can make it worth your time before you go back to mountain climbing." he states, which has you reconsidering.

"Hmm, actually i think I'll take an indefinite hiatus from traveling. Or atleast until i can get you something better than this dinosaur tooth i brought you." you accidentally slip up which has Finn sitting up with a knowing laugh of victory.

"Hah! I knew you brought me something!"

[gh0st-t0wn3]

Some Lmk ss edits + Headcanons (Traffic light trio)

- He/They

- Gay

- Only wears knock off brands (doesn't know they aren't real)

- Autumn is his favorite season, purely because he likes to stomp the crunchy leaves

- Adhd

- Has dimples

- Pigsy once got him rainbow shoes for pride month before he was even out but MK didn't realize they were pride shoes because the rainbow was on the sole

- Tried to cook breakfast for Pigsy and Tang on Father's day once, somehow lit the curtains on fire

- Wants Tattoos but keeps backing down because he doesn't like needles (will probably get one in the future though)

- Has a sketchbook fully dedicated to Redson, would literally die if someone ever found it

- Smells like oranges

- Only a few inches taller than Redson, always teases him for it

- Almost killed Sun Wukong once because he was disguised as a spider

- The Monkey's on flower fruit mountain always climb on him when he's around, he doesn't try to stop them

- Had to remove the snooze option on his alarm clock because he wouldn't stop hitting it

- Chicken scratch handwriting, no one else can read it for the life of them

- Learned Spanish in high school, don't ask why it just feels right

- Covered in scars, but 83% of them are from being a dumb kid instead of battles

- Once described Redson's voice as "really warm, like a hug!" And almost got burnt for it

- Love language is physical touch

- Has those really pretty brown eyes, like the ones that look like honey when the light hits them at that one perfect angle

- Has no fashion sense whatsoever, Mei chose out most of the clothes he owns

- Phone is shattered beyond repair but he refuses to acknowledge that he needs to get a new one

- Obsessively takes personality/buzzfeed tests in the dead of night, once pulled an all nighter just taking "which drink are you?", "what kind of seafood are you?" "What type of candy are you?" Type of buzz feed quizzes, and physically couldn't do deliveries because he was so exhausted the next morning

- Has a bunch of plants but is terrible at taking care of them

- Has a chipped tooth (actually Canon, it's on his lego figurine, I'm still sad they didn't add it to the show :( )

- Once walked in on Tang and Pigsy kissing as a kid and was promptly traumatized

- Has no skin or hair care routine, uses a 3 in 1 Shampoo/conditioner/bodywash

- Has really nice curly/wavy hair but straightens it and uses an unholy amount of hair gel

- Has a wattpad account

- Sleeps in literally the most horrific positions you have ever seen, yet somehow never get cramps or neck/back pains

- Once drank dishwasher soap as a kid because he thought it was juice

- Gets sunburnt incredibly easy (if you've seen the s4 special ykwim)

- Mk once accidently threw a plastic bottle in the trash instead of the recycling bin and got lectured for an hour by Pigsy (Pigsy is a huge environmentalist)

- His bedroom is messy as all hell but he somehow knows where everything is (Pigsy and Tang have tried cleaning it themselves but it was back to being a mess just a few short hours later so they gave up)

- He/Him (FtM)

- Gay

- Shortest one in the trio (just barely though). I like to think that the removal of the samadhi fire stunted his growth and demonic development, which is also why he takes so little after his father in appearance/height. He always wears platforms though, so he looks taller than he is

- He was so quiet and sneaky as a child that his mom had to put a bell on him

- Used to wear large combat boots until someone made a "step on me" joke. He doesn't wear them in public anymore

- Smells like smoke and cinnamon, Mei once described it as a 'campfire' smell

- Has really heavy blackout curtains in his bedroom

- Hair turns black when wet or when he's burnt out

- Always has a soft glow to his body because of his fire, mouth glows faintly, hair glows faintly, the more emotional he is the stronger the glow (MK and Mei are incredibly jealous)

- Tension headaches because we all know that mf has his hair tied up in the tightest goddamn ponytail ever

- Has the samadhi fire back (I'm delusional just let me have this)

- Has a habit of stealing his friends and families clothes to wear, first started when he was really little and would constantly steal whatever clothes of DBK's he could find around the house to help him feel like his dad was still there, and the habit just stuck with him

- Doctor handwriting

- Autistic

- Identifies as male but still likes to wear skirts and dresses sometimes (he just like me fr). Likes floor length skirts the best

- Actually really good at art, mostly draws blueprints for his inventions, but can draw people and landscapes pretty decently too

- Has a childhood Bull plushie that he still sleeps with, hides it under the bed or in the closet whenever MK and Mei come over

- has a scar on his back resembling the rings of samadhi from the removal ritual, Mei once confused it for a tattoo

- Mei once called him "Zesty" and he still doesn't know what it means, she refuses to tell him

- Was homeschooled by PIF

- Has a beauty mark like his mom's

- Has the most angelic, majestic, heartlifting laugh ever, but never actually laughs (unless it's his "evil" laugh, trust me guys)

- Goes to bed at 3am, wakes up at 11am type of person

- Needs glasses because the Samadhi fire fucked up his eyes (in Journey to the West, the samadhi fire is described as a flame that, when activated, "shoots out of every hole in his face" including, of course, his eyes)

- Remember when I said he was a quiet child? Yeah, he can't do that anymore, he literally has no idea how to be quiet now that he's older, the best he can do is whisper shout

- Hopeless romantic, but convinced that any and all feelings are unrequited

- Mei and Mk found his baby pictures once, he will never recover

- Long ass skin and hair care routine, will spend at least two or more hours on it every morning, but it's worth it, his hair and skin are always so soft

- Touch starved as fuck

- Love language is gift giving and positive affirmation (WILL cry if someone compliments him, doesn't matter who it is or what the context is, he once almost burst into tears when Sandy called him a good kid and gave him a pat on the back)

- Once he's focused on something he will stay focused for at least the next ten hours

- Loves strawberry flavored things but hates actual strawberries

- Listens to really underground music and has the biggest superiority complex because of it

- Has the biggest fucking bedroom you have ever seen, with one of those really large and extravagant, super comfortable canopy beds, wakes up like a Disney princess

- Usually self-preserving but will experiment on himself without hesitation if he thinks it'll help him with a breakthrough (has almost died on several occasions)

- She/Her

- Lesbian

- Has tons of piercings: nose, ears, bellybutton, etc (her parents don't know about the bellybutton piercing and she doesn't plan on letting them know anytime soon)

- "Hey, Red boy, cool tattoo!" "... thats a scar." (She still hasn't lived it down)

- Smells like freshly cut grass

- Tallest one in the group, idc what anyone says, I just have a feeling okay?

- Adores glitter makeup but can't stand the feeling of it on her skin

- Love language is quality time

- Has a love/hate relationship with her dragon features, she thinks they look cool and she's proud of her heritage, but if her scales get too dry, which happens very easily, they get really uncomfortable and itchy as all hell

- Had a phase in high school where she'd dye her hair everything except green

- Probably also has Adhd

- Avid tennis player

- Hates the feeling of jeans, but loves denim jackets (has a whole collection, plus one that she and MK have been patching together for years)

- Always smudges her mascara somehow, MK once thought she was crying

- Super rough and rowdy as a kid, like I'm talking pushing kids off swings and down the slide rowdy, tackling people in the sandbox or on the school field, girl was a menace to society

- Snorts when she laughs

- MK tried to scare her once as a joke and her first instinct was to deck him (apologized profusely... before laughing at him)

- Most reckless driver on the planet, it's a wonder how she hasn't gotten her license taken away yet

- Doesn't really consider herself close with her family, she loves them but MK, Tang, Pigsy, and Sandy are her FAMILY, y'know? Like Rosa in b99

- Was the first person to know MK has a crush on Redson, she found out when she walked in on him drawing them together, and she will never let him forget it

- Has a normal skin and hair care routine, and constantly tells Redson that he's insane for needing 2+ hours to complete his

- Is the only one with readable handwriting

- Once stayed up for an entire week to play a new video game that came out

- Will smack her head with a brush if her hair doesn't cooperate

- Bites people (gently, its how she shows affection. Unless she doesn't like you then she'll just naw on your arm until she draws blood)

- Lives on energy drinks, her favorite is Monster Pipeline punch

- Has really soft and really thick hair

- Used to chew on her hair in middle school

- Biggest sweet tooth ever, Redson is disgusted by her eating habits

- Goes on early morning jogs every day except weekends

- Sabrina Carpenter fan

- Refuses to watch any movies or shows based on video games she likes because they'll "never have the same charm or energy as the game", but will buy the video games that a show/movie is based on if she watches them before playing

- Will eat random plants all the time. Walking through the park? She'll lean down and pick a flower to chomp on

- The type of girl to carry around a goddamn gallon water bottle everywhere

- Has a thousand fairy lights in her room, it's a fire hazard

[mysticalmallard]

MainMasterlist || Rules & Requests

Incorrect COD quotes

Soap: You fuckers don’t know about my knife stick. It’s a knife taped to a stick and it’s the ultimate weapon.

Ghost: Spear.

Soap: BLOCKED.

.....

König: What's the signal when something goes wrong?

Soap: We yell, 'oh shit.'

Price: ...That'll work.

.....

Soap: Hey Ghost, do you have any hobbies?

Ghost: Swimming..

Soap: Really? That’s cool. I never expected you to-

Ghost: In a pool of self hatred and regret.

.....

*the Squad cleaning up*

Price: Pick up the nearest piece of trash and throw it away.

Ghost, to Graves: Aight, which bin do you wanna go in—

.....

Soap: Just so everyone knows, don't ever try to climb a tree at night carrying a strobe light, owls DON'T like it.

Ghost: ...what happened?

Soap: I made a VERY bad mistake.

.....

*Soap falls over*

Ghost: Soap! Are you alright?

Soap: Is that you, God?

Ghost: What?

Soap: It's just, you sound a lot more like Ghost than I expected.

.....

König: You know you can die from that, right?

Ghost: *smoking a cigarette* That’s the point.

Price: *drinking alcohol* We’re trying to speed this up.

Soap and Gaz: *Eating raw cookie dough and nodding*

.....

Gaz: Why are Ghost and Soap sitting with their backs to each other?

Price: They had a fight.

Gaz: Then why are they holding hands?

Price: Soap gets sad when they fight.

[grogusmum]

Crash Into Me

alpha!DIN DJARIN X omega!F!READER

WORD COUNT 2100ish

WARNINGS: A/B/O Dynamics, omega reader in mild peril

A/N: The idea of Din discovering his alpha nature as an adult took hold of my brain and I couldn’t shake it, or write anything much else until I got it down, so here it is. I’ve never written a/b/o before and I don't read too much of it. So please be gentle with me. 

It starts out in third person, from Din’s pov and then switches to second person when the pov opens to both of you. 

It’s pretty fluffy (What? You say. Shocking, I know! Hazel replies.) and doesn’t contain smut. (I know, I know)

This here is a one-shot that could expand when and if inspiration strikes, if there is to be smut in its future, the Magic 8 Ball says “Reply hazy, try again”.

*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia. 

Din enters the local cantina. The job’s complete, but the kid needs to eat before they bring the bounty back to the client. He gently lifts Grogu out of his satchel and places him in a booth. Grogu coos and tries to climb onto the table.

“Hey don't do that, pal.”

A friendly-looking server comes up just as he settles himself and Grogu on one side of the booth with a ready warm smile.

“Welcome, traveler,” the server greets. Upon seeing Din settling Grogu beside him on the inside of the booth, she corrects herself sweetly, “I’m sorry, welcome travelers! Are you interested in eating or just a- ”

“Yes, thank you,” Din interjects. “Um, just for this one here.”

“Very well, the special today is fried gorg over pashi noodles.” she reaches over to point out a few items. Reaching past Din, as Grogu is playing with the single-page menu.

“Unfortunately we are out of roasted craw-maw and the ladnek bisque.” 

Din stills when her arm crosses him, below his helmet. His helmet filters out much in standard mode, but he catches a scent he has never experienced. His head swims slightly, normally he would turn on the extra filtration, but something in him wants more.

“Oh, I apologize for my reach, sir,” she pulls back realizing she has invaded his space.

“Don’t worry about it,” Din's voice is low, lower than usual. He is taken by surprise, it’s his ‘bring you in warm or cold voice’, without any of the menace. He clears his throat. And his server does the same, he looks at her properly for the first time. Warm eyes and very cute, pretty, he decides. Her moment of fluster pleases him in a way he doesn't understand and he tries to keep from puffing out his chest. Din thanks the stars for his helmet.

“He will take the gorg and noodles,” he says. “Enthusiastically.”  

Grogu watches this exchange closely.

“Very good!” her laugh is warm and genuine. Still smiling as she goes to the kitchen. Din wonders what that was all about and thinks of putting the extra filtration on again.But doesn't.

A busser delivers the food, Din thanks them politely, but can’t help but look past them to see where his server has gotten to.

Grogu digs in, just as his dad anticipated, with enthusiasm. Din is just happy he is eating a cooked gorg.

Quickly, Grogu is down to his last noodle.

“You ready, kid?” 

Grogu looks up and nods, making a little mrapp sound. Seeming full and content as Din lifts him off the bench and he sinks comfortably back into the satchel. 

After Din goes to settle up, he tells himself he is not put out at all that he didn't get to pay the pretty sever with the sweet smile and twinkling eyes directly, as he heads out the back. It's just the quickest way to the Crest. It has nothing to do with passing the kitchens. 

The crash of trash bins behind him catches Din’s attention, and he rounds the corner to investigate. He pulls up short, seeing her against the cantina wall, a hulking human looming. The bin lids continue rolling, then reverberating like cymbals. Her look of fear sends a kick of adrenaline through Din's system, and there is a rush in his ears. His growl shocks him. He has more control than this.

When her attacker looks in Din’s direction, she tries valiantly to take advantage and kick him. He is thrown off balance, yes, but it's not enough, and he quickly has her by the arm.

“I’m only going to say this once, let her go.” Din’s hand moved to his blaster.

“I’m only going to tell you once, to mind your business.”

Grogu ducks as Din draws his blaster. 

“Wait!” She shouts. 

“See the omega wants to go with me.”

“I do not,” she says, pulling away, but he clamps his hand harder, causing her to wince. 

Din is torn between seeing red at the pained expression on her face and the curiosity of this new information- what did he call her? Is that your name? Din holsters his blaster, his hands come to his hips. 

“Fine. It seems to me, Omega doesn’t want to go with you.” Din makes himself take up as much space as he can, and drops his voice further. Surprising himself yet again today, he adds “she wants to come with me.”

Confused and again relieved to be under his helm, for after saying such a presumptuous thing, Din can't keep from wincing just a little. Regardless, he stays in Bounty Hunter mode. The woman pulls away again and walks over to Din. He almost forgets about her assailant, watching her progress. Coming to him. Almost-

“It is Omega’s grace and not mine that you are still standing. I see you again, you won’t be so lucky,” Din says only after he has stepped in front of her, completely shielded her from view. 

When the other man is completely out of view, he turns and looks down at her. She is very close to him, eyes large. He catches a hint of that smell again. His thoughts lose focus-

“Omega,” he almost whispers. 

She looks, he isn't sure, concerned? Disappointed?

Then she tells him her name.

“Oh,” Din chuckles, it’s just a misunderstanding. He is taken aback at how relieved he feels. “I'm sorry- he called you Omega, I just assumed it was your name.”

Now, it is her turn to look confused, but then she smiles. 

“Can I escort you to your home or…”

“I thought I was going with you?” She says, a little cheekily.

Din flusters, but he is so curious about her and his feelings, that he makes no further comment, he just places a hand on her lower back and guides her in the direction of the Razor Crest. 

Grogu starts to fuss, reaching for this virtual stranger.

She looks at the baby and smiles-

“Do you want a carry?” 

Grogu coos and babbles, reaching animatedly.

“I don’t mind, if you don't.”

“Alright,” Din says and brings the satchel around to his front, and she scoops Grogu out. Grogu immediately clings to her shirt, telling a thrilling tale that usually only he, himself understands.  But Din watches her close. She listens in wrapped attention and laughs at seemingly all the right places.

Din can see her looking at him with curiosity, a question on her lips. He has plenty of his own.

The assailant had called her omega, but it's not her name. It stirs memories. He hadn't really thought about Aq Vetina, or the lessons the Mandalorians had taught him about his unique biology in years. 

This woman is not called Omega, she may be and omega. She might have omega physiology, but that would mean he is not what he thought… 

After the battle droid siege that took his parent from him, Din was taken from his homeworld by the Mandalorians before puberty. They understood Aq Vetina was peopled by Alphas, Betas, and Omegas, and knew that even out of their society, Din would have to understand what it all means. They not only taught him about what it is to be any of those designations, but instilled discipline so he would be able to marshal control over the base instincts that can disrupt his ability to function in non-a/b/o society such as the Child of the Watch and much of the galaxy. But not being part of the unique group of people they of course, couldn't tell Din what it felt like.

From what Din understands about it, he has always assumed he must be a beta. But when he thinks about it, he has never knowingly been in the presence of an alpha or an omega, the two designations that would inspire the strongest reactions. 

Lost in thought Din arrives at the Crest before he knows it. The Mandalorian hits a few buttons on his vambrace, lifting the security protocols, and lowering the gangway. He again guides his guest with a light hand on her lower back.

Din knows he should say something… 'welcome' or 'make yourself at home' comes to mind and is nixed immediately. He goes with-

"Watch your step."

She looks around. Her curiosity spurs her on but he can see, no feel, a guardedness too.

He reaches for Grogu, and the baby reaches back, then squawks in indignation when he is placed in his hammock.

"Sorry, Grogu. I'll come get you soon," he says as he presses the button to close the door to the bunk.

When Din turns, she is more apprehensive than curious. It comes off her in waves. He knows he needs to explain, but… he doesn't know exactly what to say.

"I'm not going to hear the end of that for some time."

She gives a small smile.

"I- um…" Din starts and stops, her eyes are so… 

Din takes off his gloves. 

He tries again, taking her hand-

"Aq Vetina is my homeworld, but I was saved after my parents were kiled and taken in by the Mandalorians when I was very young."

Whether she is also from Aq Vetina or just knows of it, he doesn't know, but he can see some recognition. She looks down at his hand on hers, his thumb making circles on her wrist. Her eyes close, and she hums a contented sound. The sound causes fireworks to go off in him. Din breaks away to walk over to a control panel on the wall and shuts down the lights.

You are plunged into darkness. Has your curiosity gotten you into trouble? 

"As a Mandalorian, to protect my creed my face can not be seen by others," he explains from across the hold. "But I want to take off my helmet with you-" 

The dark is absolute, but you can tell where he is from the sound of his voice. Then a hiss and clunk, followed by a soft fwump, fabric maybe. There is a moment of silence, then right in front of you-

"Do you understand why?"

He sounds different, no longer speaking through the helmet. And his scent- you breathe it in. 

"I think so, Alph- you're an alpha," you didn’t plan to whisper.

Din is hit with your scent, now unencumbered by the basic filtration within the helmet. He takes your hand again, bringing your wrist to his nose, inhaling. You know he is restraining himself from going to the scent gland in your neck. But if you are honest with yourself, it's all you want.

Din doesn't know what he is doing, he feels untethered, almost floating. He has never felt this way, his thinking is not confused though, on the contrary it is very clear though it almost feels like someone else's thoughts.

You move closer, bringing your neck so close. Din lowers your hand-

"Can I?"

"Please, Al- Mando"

"Din, please call me Din."

You tip you head to the side, you trust he will only smell, you don't know how you know and that frightens you.

"Alright, Din."

A shiver runs through him, and very slowly, he brings his face to the juncture of your neck and shoulder and inhales deeply. He feels drunk. His training battling with instinct and training all but raises a flag of truce when your nose is buried in his now bare neck, and instinct rumbles its victory. Little does he know that that rumble escapes him until you moan in response. 

"Din," you sigh. His response is quick and desperate, a growl rumbling from his chest and arms wrap tightly around you, as he murmurs your name.

How you got to the large crate you are now sitting on, you aren’t sure. Your feet dangle, legs open with Din standing between them, but he is not pressing against you. His head is tucked against your shoulder as he noses against your scent gland. Your hands in his hair,it's soft and fine. He does nothing without express permission. You have never met an alpha like this. You remind yourself he wasn't raised in a/b/o society, where the hierarchy puts him at the top, so many taught that they can just take what they want, like the alpha behind the cantina. You also can tell he is holding back, keeping instinct in check. And you are torn between incredible respect and wanting him to let go. 

“I want to kiss you, may-”

“I want to kiss you too, Din.”

Din brings his mouth to yours with an urgency that scares him. He wants to live here, right here. He knows he has to marshal himself, take control. But your lips are soft and the sounds you make, he wishes he could see you- 

Suddenly, there is the swoosh of a door to your right and an affronted cry that is as cute as it is furious. You smile, your lips still against his.

“Time’s up, I guess,” Din sighs.

"For now."

THANK YOU FOR READING 💚

You can find more of my writing here, and if you are interested in being tagged for this or any of my other works, here is my taglist form.

[indigosunsetao3]

Chapter 1

It's always interesting when the new neighbor(s) move in.

AO3 (Full list of tags/warnings. Please check them.) Masterlist 2.2k Words

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Celeste offered as a farewell as she slung her purse over her shoulder.

The café was only partially packed at this time of day, after the lunch rush and before the early dinner customers. During the off-season, it was easier to predict the day-to-day schedule; during peak tourist time in the summer and winter, it was a crap shoot on how busy they would be. Too cold and people wouldn’t brave the mountains to ski even if that was why they came to visit. Too hot and they weren’t going to be out boating in the heat of the day, opting for an early dinner then perhaps hitting the lake at sundown.

“See you tomorrow. Are you still good to work over with Andrea needing off for her kids?” Her boss asked as he shoved another tray of fresh bread into the display case and stood up with a groan, holding his lower back.

“Oh, yes, no problem,” Celeste answered, having already forgotten she had agreed to that last week. Not that it mattered; she had no one at home waiting on her. Well, except for Samson.

The day was overcast, as it usually was this late in the winter. The snow mostly melted, even on the highest peaks, with temperatures rising to give way to spring. It was rainy season, and as Celeste yanked open her car door, she felt a few errant drops catch her arm. She hated driving in the rain and hated everything about that particular weather, so getting home quickly was the goal.

The fifteen-minute drive, the average time when only the locals were around, passed without much fuss. The roads weaving through dense woods before opening to spectacular views of the lake on the left were why people came to this sleepy place. It had something for everyone: a lake for sailing, racing, and water skiing. Mountains in the not-so-far distance for hiking, camping, skiing, and even sheer rockface mountain climbing for the bravest.

Celeste hadn’t bothered with any of that in months, barely left her own home unless it was for work or to go to the grocer. She had only officially moved into the family cottage right before Christmas, though the place still looked like a vacant house. She hadn’t even entered the den; the furniture was still covered in sheets, and packed boxes littered the halls.  She just didn’t have the energy or willpower to finish, only pulling out the bare minimum to get by the past three months.

Putting her car in park, she stared in her side mirror at the bins she needed to drag into the detached garage. Just as she had pulled in, the sky opened up to deluge the area, and she didn’t want to get soaked messing with them. How long could she get away from leaving them before the neighbor up the road came calling to remind her? Trash day had been three days ago; leaving the bins out all week wasn't proper. As she twisted in the backseat to try and find an umbrella, she noticed movement at the cottage next door that made her pause.

The place had been for sale since she had moved in. It had been falling into disrepair for as long as she could remember. The owner's adult children had moved from England years ago, and the parents were too old to maintain the property. They had rented it out for a while but stopped when the roof collapsed on the sunroom while guests were staying. No one had repaired it, and the house sat empty month after month until the For Sale sign appeared. It caused a fuss in the town; people were mad that the family home would likely go to strangers, but Celeste kept quiet. She was also a stranger here; the family cottage she moved into was her husband’s.

She watched quietly as a man climbed out of the sleek town car, jacket pulled over his head to shield himself from the rain.  He ran to the backseat and wrenched open the door one-handed before digging around inside, leaning slightly to reveal his other arm was wrapped tightly in a sling. He found his quarry after a moment, a large duffel before he slung it over his back and slammed the car door shut. His steps were quick to get to the front door, and she watched him fumble one-handed with the keys for a moment before he shouldered the door open and slipped inside.

It seemed like an odd choice for a man to move into a cottage that was falling apart. He could barely do anything one-handed, and guessing by how he juggled everything, the hand in the sling was his dominant one. Maybe his partner would be coming along to help. Or perhaps this guy was just the investor who bought the place to flip it and sell it to some out-of-town rich people. Just another outsider moving in.

What was she thinking? She was also the outsider, and here she was judging another person who probably had no idea anyone was even paying attention to them.

With a sigh, she gave up on her search for the umbrella and grabbed her purse. The bins would have to wait another day. After one last search of the car to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, Celeste opened the door and ran for it. The rain was freezing, sliding down the back of her shirt and soaking her hair. She shoved the key in the lock and wrenched the door open, lifting it a bit to keep it from scraping the floor before stepping inside.

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

Kyle stared around at the inside of the cottage with a small sigh. When Price said it needed some work, he had sorely undersold how much it actually needed. The smell of must hit him square in the face just a foot inside the place. Then, when he dropped the duffel in the entryway, a cloud of dust floated back up to him, telling Kyle that the place had been empty for months, if not years.

He shuffled down the small hallway to the kitchen, bypassing the living room to the right to find it wasn’t much better. A few cabinet doors were still half open, with plates and cups inside that were probably older than he was. The stove had grease stains all over the top, and Kyle made a face as his feet stopped short of some old mouse droppings in front of the fridge.

“You said it needed a little work,” Kyle muttered into the phone a few minutes later as he climbed up the steps to the bedroom area.

“Not sure I said little, Sergeant,” came John’s voice over the line. It was crackled, sounding like it was coming from a long distance.

“Let me ask Johnny if he remembers what you said,” Kyle answered with a small smile as he toed the metal bedframe of a twin bed.

“He’s busy,” Price answered. Through the tone, Kyle could tell he was grinning as well. “I’ll be there in a couple of days. See what you can get figured out.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll get along just fine one-handed. I’ll have that collapsed porch built in no time,” Kyle answered, his voice dropping humor to reveal his frustration with his injury.

“Don’t overdo it,” Price answered quietly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kyle answered as he peeled back the faded yellow comforter before collapsing on the bed. It squeaked ominously under him, and he stiffened, expecting it to give way under his weight, but it still held. “A new bed is the first thing I’m getting,” he answered after a moment. As he shifted, the metal whined loudly under even the slightest movement, threatening to cave.

“Put it on the list,” Price answered before the sound of his hand covering the speaker muffled his voice.

“Just go,” Kyle said before Price could return, telling him he had to cut the conversation short. “I’ll see you in a few days, Captain, as long as this place doesn’t fall apart with me in it first.”

He hung up the line and threw the phone onto the nightstand before rising with a groan. He needed a shower and food. Strolling to the window to peer out at the lake, he watched the rain bounce off the surface, churning the calm image from the pictures Price had shown them all into a raging mess. He stared briefly, taking in the view of the small dock and boat bouncing on the waves and the mountains across the way before a light caught his eye.

This was supposed to be a tourist town, one that many people didn’t truly live in year-round, but yet someone else was here. Kyle narrowed his eyes to watch as the backdoor opened, and a figure appeared. They were wrapped in a bright yellow rain jacket, and he smirked a bit as they gestured for someone to hurry up. He assumed it was a dog that needed to be coaxed to go out in the rain, but when nothing came, he watched as the person stomped out into the rain. They went right toward a bush, and when they bent down, a flash of bright orange streaked in from under it and into the house.

The person righted themselves and stared at the open back door for a moment. He saw the person, a woman, push back her hair into the hood where it had fallen out and saw her mouth moving. If he were to place bets, he would have taken a fiver on the fact that she was cursing up a storm at her errant cat. She stood in the rain a moment longer, twisting to glance out at her dock, where two chairs sat, before making her way back inside herself. When the light finally cut, Kyle turned around and headed down the hall to find a bathroom. He hoped he didn’t fall through the floor or the pipes wouldn’t explode when he turned on the water.

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

“I will leave you out there next time,” Celeste threatened as Samson sat in the middle of the kitchen floor, licking his paws. He was soaked to the bone but still seemed pleased with himself. Celeste was careful never to leave him out when she wasn’t home, especially in the evening. But the little shit had used one of the floor registers to get under the house and out that way. She would need to place another one of the boxes on his newest escape tunnel and figure out a way to secure it from her little Houdini properly.

Bending down, she dried him off as best as he would allow with a tea towel before throwing it in the washing machine. The laundry was piling up again, spilling out the front of it, and she eyed it angrily. She knew she’d need a fresh apron and undergarments for her shift tomorrow. Laundry was just one of those things that always fell to the wayside for her until she was left sniffing a shirt to see how bad it was and if she could reuse it for a third day.

“Dinner first,” she muttered, opening the fridge to stare at her options. Fuck. When was the last time she had been to the grocer? She had half a loaf of bread, a few slices of deli cheese, and some questionable leftovers from the week before. The rest were all condiments and half-drunk bottles of wine. “Cheese it is,” she decided, grabbing the bag and a bottle of wine before wandering to the pantry to open a can of cat food for Samson. He was still attempting to dry himself, but the minute the can popped, he trotted over and began to eat.

Celeste shoved a piece of cheese in her mouth before finally peeling off her dirty work apron and pushing it into the washing machine. She jammed a few buttons, threw in some soap, and started it before collapsing at the kitchen table. The rain was still coming down in sheets outside, and she swigged directly from the bottle, debating how she was going to spend the rest of her evening. Nothing seemed appealing. She could read, of course, but books had lost their charm over the past months. Television was nothing but trash, love stories, or bad news. And unpacking the rest of her boxes was off the list for the time being.

The last time she tried to dig through her hastily packed things, she was smacked in the face by one of his unfinished projects. It was a little thing he had started on a rainy day on a creative whim. She always bugged him about his new hobbies and ideas, how he’d start things but never finished them. But he promised this one would be different because he was making it for her. A promise that felt cruelly ironic as she turned the thing over in her hands while she sat alone in the hallway and cried.

Just another vow that would remain forever unfulfilled.

[in1-nutshell]

Hello again so how about old Predacon buddy accidentally gets teleported to the transformers animated universe how would the Autobots react (you can include the elite guard if you want) predacon buddy Will most likely just want to adopt all of optimus's team now I'm just imagining Predacon buddy Just having a cuddle pile with the transformers animated Autobots and that is absolutely adorable =]

Buddy is too old for this... time to travel again!

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the Old Predacon meeting Team Prime

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronain reader

TFP/TFA

Buddy is really starting to get tired of being launched from mystic portals.

They were going to start carrying the Apex armor to soften their landing if they needed to.

Buddy landed near some docks in the middle of the day.

This place terrified Buddy.

Everything was way too small here!

Buddy quickly looked around the area, still everything was way smaller than what they would have liked it to be.

Buddy looking around.

“Hmm… this is usually the part where I meet some human or bot—”--Buddy

“Wow!”

“There it is.”--Buddy

Buddy looks down to see a tiny human girl.

“You’re really big!”

“That I am little one.”--Buddy

Buddy tucks in their wings and tail more to avoid touching or potentially knocking over something.

The human girl looks at Buddy a bit intensely.

“Are you an Autobot or Decepticon?”

“An Autobot, specifically a Predacon.”--Buddy

“What’s a Predacon?”

“Not important right now. What is you name?”--Buddy

“I’m Sari.”--Sari

“Sari? Now that’s a name I haven’t heard before. I’m Buddy.”--Buddy

Sari raising her eyebrow.

“Buddy?”--Sari

Buddy venting a bit.

“I know, I know the name doesn’t fit with how I look. But I have been told it matches my personality well.”--Buddy

Sari moves closer to Buddy, while they just freeze.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”--Sari

“I know, it’s just that I don’t want to accidentally hurt you. I’m not exactly known for being very careful with many fragile things.”--Buddy

Sari pats Buddy’s claws.

“You would get along with my friend Bulkhead.”--Sari

Buddy perks up.

“Bulkhead? Oh, this is great!”--Buddy

“You know Bulkhead?”--Sari

“I know his alternative. He is a good friend of mine.”--Buddy

“Alternative?”--Sari

“I’m from another dimension. Don’t ask me how, truthfully, I don’t know either.”--Buddy

“That’s so cool!”--Sari

“Buddy bowing their helm to Sari’s level.

“Could you help me find Bulkhead? He might be able to help me get home.”--Buddy

Sari is already climbing on Buddy’s helm.

Buddy slowly lifts their helm.

“Keep walking straight, the Plant will show up soon on the left.”--Sari

Buddy begins walking down the docks heading through some of the back streets.

“I’m sure Bulkhead can help! He is a spacebridge technician.”--Sari

“I’m sorry he’s a what?”--Buddy

They arrived to a seemingly abandoned power Plant after a couple of minutes and stops on the way.

Buddy wasn’t sure they could get used to humans minding their own business.

Sure, there were the ones that stared at them and others making comments here and there.

But there was no mass hysteria or riots.

The only yelling Buddy had was when they nearly stepped on a trash bin that was placed too close to the road.

Sari told Buddy to wait outside while she brought out the Team. Not like Buddy could enter either way.

Everything was still a bit too small for their liking anyways.

Buddy nearly fainted on the spot when they saw how small the Autobots were.

“Sari, can you repeat what you just said? What do you mean ‘another dimension dragon bot needs Bulkhead’s help’?”--Prowl

“Yeah, Buddy needs help getting back home.”--Sari

Bumblebee skating backwards to the door.

“Please! I bet this dragon—”--Bumblebee

Bumblebee hits a solid wall.

He pats the back feeling a solid wall of metal.

A shadow looms over him as he slowly looks up.

He looks up to see a giant metal dragon’s face.

Bumblebee quickly runs back to his team who is just equally terrified at this giant.

Sari calmly walks over to Buddy.

“Buddy, this is the team.! Guys this is Buddy!”--Sari

“Sari… I think you failed to tell us how GIANORMOUS the dragon was!”--Bumblebee

“Why is everyone here so small!”--Buddy

“We aren’t small! Your just huge!”--Bulkhead

Buddy quickly shakes their helm.

“My apologies. Its…it’s been a tough day. Being in a whole new reality again.”--Buddy

“What do you mean again?”--Ratchet

“This happens a lot more than you think. But right now, I’m just trying to figure out a way home.”--Buddy

Optimus taking a step forward holding his servo out.

“We’ll help you in any way we can.”--Optimus

Buddy raises a digit and lightly shakes the Primes servo.

“Thank you Prime.”--Buddy

It took some getting used to with Buddy being around.

For one, Buddy couldn’t fit in the plant entirely.

Buddy did find out that if they stayed low to the ground, they could at least get most of their frame in without getting stuck in the doors.

Buddy became very protective of the team the longer they stayed.

Especially seeing the stark size difference between them and the Decepticons.

Buddy was sure they scared Starscream into the afterlife after sneezing.

Optimus found himself looking for Buddy sometimes when things were starting to get to him.

He didn’t want to admit them, but he felt comfortable enough around Buddy to talk.

Ratchet and Buddy did have their old bot talks from time to time.

Ratchet is convinced he is older than Buddy, for a short time.

Bumblebee and Sari constantly give Buddy mini spark attacks when they decide to do some sort of shenanigans.

The puppy eyes worked… for a bit.

Buddy and Bulkhead sometimes make art together.

Buddy is quick to shut down anyone’s mean comments about Bulkhead’s art.

Prowl and Buddy sometimes go out for walks in the park. Buddy took him flying one time.

One time.

Sari was close to using her key on him from the fright he had when he nearly fell off, which was his fault for trying to stand up while Buddy was still ascending at such a fast pace.

Ratchet had the car batteries ready in case Buddy was going to have a spark attack.

Optimus walking into the main room to see Buddy sleeping with their wings acting like a blanket.

“Prime!”--Prowl

Optimus looks around but sees no one.

“In here!”--Bulkhead

Optimus quietly goes by Buddy and lifts their wing the best he could.

All of his team is trapped by Buddy’s heavy limbs.

“What took you so long. Help a mech out!”--Bumblebee

“All right, all right just let me—Woah!”--Optimus

Buddy reaches out quickly and traps the small Prime in their grasp.

He struggles a bit but Buddy only slightly tightens their grip.

“Don’t even try, they’ll just tighten their grip.”—Ratchet

“How long have you guys been in here?”--Optimus

“In total… about an hour.”--Sari

“They nap for about three hours. Get comfy.”--Ratchet

Buddy was ready to throw servo with Sentinel after the rude comments he said to Prime.

Buddy standing straighter with wings opened and lightly draped over team prime.

“I highly recommend you stop this rude behavior Sentinel.”--Buddy

“That Sentinel Prime to you freak.”--Sentinel

Jazz and the Jettwins moving towards Buddy’s side.

“Sentinel I don’t think—”--Jazz

“Shut it Jazz! This is between me and the freak!”--Sentinel

Buddy readjusts their wings so they now also cover Jazz and the Jettwins.

“You have five seconds to apologize before I hunt you down.”--Buddy

“You can’t do that I’m a Prime.”--Sentinel

“5.”--Buddy

“You will respect your superior!”--Sentinel

“4. Not my world, not my Prime. 3”--Buddy

“Sentinel… I think you should run—”--Optimus

Sentinel already barricading himself in his office.

“That was fun! Never seen Sentinel run that fast.”--Jazz

“Let me know when he’s acting out again. I’ll set him straight, even show off some of my moves from back in the pits.”--Buddy

“Excuse me the what?!”--Ratchet

A week later a portal had shown up at the Plant’s entrance.

Buddy knew it was their time to go.

After some tight hugs and teary good-byes Buddy walked into the portal.

The base was quiet today.

Maybe everyone was out on patrol again.

“I’m back!”--Buddy

Miko looking from her spot on the couch.

“It happened again?”--Miko

Buddy settling down next to her.

“Yep.”--Buddy

“We should get a tracker on you the next time you leave.”--Miko

“Ehh, I’ll think about it kiddo.”--Buddy

[starythewriter]

Riding the feral wolverine

Warnings: rough sex, oral. Minors DNI protect you and me.

wolverine, looked at your beautiful whit dress with white pearl shiny earrings. he got horny and feral. you could feel the instanity with his gaze. you walked closer making eye contact while drinking red wine, he groaned knowing that you were seducing him. you walked to his back giving him a massage, he then grabbed you away from the public party you were at, and started to kiss you and make out with you in the bathroom. slowly he kissed your neck. you moaned in pleasure."baby please don't stop"wolverine growled kissing your neck again "I have an idea for how we can get more intimate."

you yelled out."yes baby?"he asked in between strokes."please fuck me!"you pleaded wanting him inside of you."of course baby" he replied smiling. he removed his hand from inside you but replaced it with a condom.wolverine slipped the condom on and positioned himself above you.wolverine thrust in hard making you moan loudly. he was touching your pussy causing you to come."ow ow ow"you whined.wolverine continued to thrust in hard hitting your sensitive spot.

wolverine started pounding your pussy harder and faster, after ten minutes your body was shaking from the pleasure. wolverine then started sucking you nipples. you squirmed and whimpered from the stimulation. you didn't know how long you were moaning and whimpering. then wolverine suddenly stopped pumping. he pulled out and removed the condom, he threw it towards the trash bin near the sink.wolverine then climbed over you wrapping his arms around your waist, your body was still quivering.he pulled the condom out of your ass "now i'll be able to fuck you whenever i want"wolverine smirked. you blushed and giggled.wolverine then started kissing you passionately. you wrapped your legs around his waist and started grinding your hips against his.wolverine moaned in pleasure. you both were getting close to climaxing.wolverine was about to cum but held himself back and started licking your juices. he swallowed most of your juices. you moaned from the sensation of wolverine eating you, his tongue made you wet, and your head spun from the sensations.

"baby... i- i'm gonna cum now" wolverine moaned with lust. your face contorted in pleasure. you moaned, feeling extremely good."baby i love you"wolverine whispered kissing your neck, you were feeling drowsy from the arousal. wolverine then started to thrust in and out making you gasp from the feeling. you started moaning louder from the intense pleasure. "wolverine im coming!!!!" you screamed.wolverine stopped thrusting, panting, and you were breathing heavily too.wolverine removed the condom and tossed it aside then rolled you over on top of you. he entered you making you gasp, his hot manhood filled you up. you gripped his back with pleasure.wolverine began to pound you aggressively in and out, making you scream from the stimulation, you wanted him to take you deeper, but he held himself back not letting go. after a couple more thrusts and strokes, he finally released himself releasing his semen on the inside of you. you both fell asleep to the wonderful sight of the moon.