#it's not even like transformers. he's literally just a car

[heartbeetz]

Urge to include kᎥtt in my f/ovember vs The Cringe

[unrealisticlea]

Tommy Kinard is literally Megan Fox in Transformers, he’s too cool to be true, he’s a fantasy, he’s the Cool Girl Monologue from Gone Girl.

He’s hot. He has a cleft. Everyone around him becomes immediately enamored with him. Chim likes him. Eddie likes him. Chris likes him. Bobby likes him.

He’s not only a pilot but he was a war pilot and he can fly helicopters into hurricanes and he can land helicopters on capsized cruise ships and leave unscathed.

He’s a firefighter with 10+ years experience and can spend 24hr firefighting and still show up in time for a wedding and he apologizes for being late.

He’s a mechanic and he can repair vintage cars and he has a mechanic shop in his garage.

He likes craft beer, he’s a Muay Thai expert, he’s into MMA and he has tickets to sold out shows in Vegas. He’s also good at basketball.

But he also like rom coms, trivia karaoke and doesn’t like broody people. He’s funny. He’s sarcastic. He has a dry and dark sense of humor. He admits he’s jealous but doesn’t let his jealousy take control of him.

He’s patient. He’s kind. He’s willing to put his life on the line to help people. He apologizes when he hurts people even if he didn’t do it on purpose. He pays on the first date. He gives people a second chance. He always knows what to say. He doesn’t push but he tries to keep up.

This is why people who say “I don’t know why people like Tommy Kinard” are either dense or deliberately missing the point. He was written to be liked. They spent three episodes driving home how likable Tommy Kinard is.

They wanted Buck’s first relationship with a man to be well received by the audience so they wrote the perfect man. Someone that audience either wants to be or date.

I’m not saying everyone has to like him, it’s impossible to write a character that’s universally beloved because liking someone depends entirely on your taste in characters.

I’m just saying if you don’t understand why people like him that’s entirely on you. This is a character that in s7 was written to be liked, it’s not subtle, right now there’s no subtext that implies that he’s secretly an awful person and he’s gonna turn out to be a piece of shit.

In season 7 Tommy Kinard is canonically a cool guy and he’s canonically a good person. People who denies it are straight up lying.

[deadghosy]

Hi! I hope you're doing great!

So I saw the headcannons of reader as Catnap and Dogday and I fell in love with the way you write! So I was wondering if you could do a headcannon about the reader being bendy from bendy and the ink machine?

Like the reader can draw and bring ink creatures to help around the hotel, maybe draw some decorations for the hotel? Sometimes going full on ink demon form to protect it or just pick up their friends on their back to make them feel taller

And the reader was actually an animator at joey drew studios and died, I think that would be pretty cool!

P.s I would love if the reader was wearing the same suit bendy wore in bendy and the dark revival

HAZBIN HOTEL X BENDY!READER

Prompt: a cute “little” demon becomes a resident who helps with the designs around the hotel!

Starting off. You definitely appeared as baby bendy 😘 with ya cute ass red bow or white bow. What ever you want the bow color as you showed up to the door trying to seem professional as Charlie gushes at your cuteness and lets you in.

The picture of baby bendy in the car, yeah you have that as you literally fuckin' zoom in the hallways drinking apple juice like a bad ass kid….bendy!Reader and chibi!Reader both doing races to make sinners poor😭 lil evil asses….

I imagine Angel dust and Alastor ganging up on you as a team to insult you by your height until you grow up to ink demon from with a roar.

“HOLY SHIT-” “Oh my.” They both said as you they were blew off by the power of your roar. So you felt happy seeing them shocked to see that part of you as Charlie didn’t see it and had commented how adorable you are with your suit.

Shit you are a devil in an angel’s suit‼️

You still wore the suit you had in when you met Audrey…man you miss her. But you are getting taken care of by Charlie and her friends here. Plus her father.

You help design the banners around the place! And even your small ink minions help as well.

I can imagine bendy! Reader being like “fuck it.” Because they can’t reach for the cereal and turn into normal height looking bendy and just starts to act as if it’s normal. While in the background, the crew has pure confusion on their face. Like, “what the fuck? You can be taller?”

“Yeah! Pretty neat right?” “..Im out of here…” husk says walking away as niffty goes up to you excited to talk to you about your height.

You ran over alastor’s foot once….you never speeded over 120 mph in your whole life seeing Alastor chase after you.

I imagine you going to normal height as you are just chilling with your small or long tail swinging and husk gets curious as he picks it up with his paw. “So…this ya tail right here?” You nodded reading the new paper. “So you’re a sinner demon?” “I ain’t nothin'” you said with a smirk as you disappeared in ink.

No one knows what exactly what you are. You don’t have the basic looks to look like a sinner or a hell born. So it’s kinda confusing to other.

You’re obviously a human who died to the ink as you use to animate bendy…so you’re bendy?? Does that make since because whatever you died by is your demon form….hopefully that made sense..

You once went full ink demon mode because a sinner tried to attack at you and husk while just running errands for the hotel. You transformed getting taller with the ink covering your face as you growl and slashes at them with a giant gloved hand covered in ink. And after that husk respected you more.

“Bendy/reader, can you help me make a cute star design?” Vaggie asked as Charlie was trying to make a star gazing banner. You nodded with your cartoony smile and pulls out a marker and started to draw on the air. The star in the air becomes to life as vaggie’s eyes widen.

“Uhm…oh wow. Thanks?” Vaggie says as she walks away with question marks visible while you just smile.

Y’know those dubbed comics where bendy has an accent? I feel like that’s cannon because you and Angel would be babbling about which part of city you guys were from.

I can see sir Pentious and you doing crafts as you made him an ink cartoon flower as he made you a bracelet bead with your name on it.

Lucifer will definitely play violin as you tap dance. Just a wholesome ass moment fr 💗🦆

You one time had fat nuggets in your doom buggy as you guys had shades just chilling around the hotel like bad asses✨

You miss your original family when you were alive and working. But everytime you open your eyes, you are greeted by the sweet comfort of your new family in the hazbin hotel.

You one time made an ink sculpture of your family and you tried to hold your smile but it faltered as you cry at how you missed your family as the ink sculpture melted due to your emotions.

Alastor appeared in your room seeing you sad little state as he comforted you. He had taken a liking to you ever since you joined the crew.

I can see you being childish because of your shortness so you use it to your advantage. YOU AND ALASTOR MAKE YOUR INK DEMONS FIGHT LIKE POKÉMON 😭😭

lol imagine bendy!reader making a whole like of fake ass tarrot cards to fuck with people as you have that smirk on your face.

“You’re gonna get run over toots…watch your back..” “what. The. Fuck-”

They got ran over by a mysterious person and a car….who knew who it was…it was you, you little bastard.

When the hotel has a talent and show day or night, you remembered how you animated bendy to do ballet and tap dancing. So with your information, that’s what you did. Yeah some sinners laughed..but some aplaude as they found it cute and so did your friends

You making ink blob bracelets for your friends as you can make them solid is a goal for real.

Headcannon on how you would try to make ink sculptures, but failing as you huff in anger and smash it with a full ink demon hand as the rest of your body is fine.

Headcannon of you just accidentally leaving ink footprints as you took off your shoes once 😭 niffty doesn’t complain as she likes to clean tho

I can see Lucifer picking your small body up happy for you to be so small as he has started in his eyes. And you are like annoyed at how the cast picks you up like a baby.

LMAO THAT WALMART MEME STOPPP😭😭 LUCIFER PUTS YOU UP TO THE DAMN WALMART CAMERA HAVING ALASTOR ALSO PICK LUCI UP 😭😭

I imagine you and Alastor having either a “bad ass son x calm father” troupe or a “non-biological sibling” troupe as you two get quite along

Your little ass doom buggy is such a weapon when needing to take a troubled guest in the hotel….YOU RAN THEM OVER?! 😨 ALL PEOPLE SEE IS A SMALL ASS INK DEMON HAVING A GUEST SCREAMING AS THEY GET RUNNED OVER TO THE DOOR-

So when the angels came for the battle, you were sure damn ready as you suffocated them in ink and control them into killing their own.

After seeing your full demon form, you definitely had been seen in a different light. They don’t see you as the cute baby bendy they seen you before.

Nah nah. They see you as a grown ass person as you are not in the baby bendy phase but more like the fanart type shit looks. With your charm, you definitely bring in some customers. 

HOPED YOU GUYS LIKED THIS AS THIS IS ALL I COULD COME UP WITH 🦆💗 MWAH

[skeltnwrites]

Summary: You are there for Steve when he has to face his fear of needles. | 1.1k

TW: needles, medical anxiety, panic attacks, bf steve

A/N: this is based on true events 🥲 also you cannot convince me he doesn't have anxiety about this after rewatching that scene where he is literally stabbed in the neck with a needle

This is the first time Steve’s ever let you drive his car. Not because he doesn’t trust you with it but because he’s happy to be your chauffeur for as long as you let him. He’s always one to refuse when you offer, to grab the keys before you even think about it. He’s a gentleman at heart, even if part of him just likes to drive. But today is different. 

Steve’s practically buzzing in the passenger seat, snapping his foot against the floor mat like a rubberband and tapping his fingers where they are crossed over his arm. And he’s silent, which is weird because he’s always been the type of nervous to not be able to shut up. 

You wrap a hand around his knee, thumb caressing denim. He doesn’t acknowledge it like he normally would, gaze trained on the windshield. His eyes are glazed over like he’s somewhere else entirely. You have to call his name twice before he hums. 

“Wanna get ice cream after?” 

You barely catch his nod.

You’re grasping for anything to get him out of his head but he refuses to talk to you regardless of topic. He’s been more obliging during arguments. 

It’s not surprising that he’s anxious today, you expected it. He’s always been hesitant about doctors and only goes if he absolutely has to. But lately, this hesitation has transformed more into refusal, regardless of reason. This appointment specifically, a checkup and routine bloodwork, has been an ongoing battle with Steve for months. After his dad had a health scare, it was recommended Steve be seen to rule out anything preemptively. You’d given Steve every opportunity to schedule it himself like he claimed he would, but weeks turned into months of procrastination so you eventually phoned the doctor's office. 

Steve stalls in the parking lot. You’d turned the car off nearly ten minutes ago but he’s had to fix his hair twice, retie his shoes, and he even pretended to search for something in the glove box. You’ve been patient, but with only two minutes left until his appointment, you circle around to his side, gently guiding him out of the car. Before he can protest or claim he forgot something, you quickly lock the door behind him.

“Name?” The middle-aged woman at the front desk asks. 

“Steve,” his voice shakes so he clears his throat.  

She pops the wad of gum she was blowing, bemused at your boyfriend. “Steve…?” 

“Yeah,” he agrees.

You swipe a hand across his back, finishing, “Harrington. Steven Harrington.” 

She turns to her computer and begins typing lazily. 

“Oh,” he nods. 

She hands him a clipboard and pen, “Fill this out.”

You lean over the arm of his chair as he writes. His hands tremble around the pen and he stops to scribble out where he wrote his birthday incorrectly. You offer to do it for him but he declines. 

“Steven?” A nurse calls from the other side of the room where she’s propped a door open with her foot. You’re thankful for the short wait so Steve didn’t torture himself for long in the lobby. 

Steve doesn’t move so you squeeze the hand you’re holding, “Ready?”

He neglects to answer you but stands. You release his hand, collecting the clipboard and your things. Steve turns around, frowning and wide-eyed. “Are you coming?” 

“Yeah, baby. Do you want me to?”

He nods as you pass him his papers.

The nurse guides you down the hall, obtaining Steve’s height and weight before reaching a small room smelling of antiseptics. She takes his blood pressure, listens to his heartbeat, and jots down notes on the clipboard throughout. Steve’s breathing shallowly and staring at the floor as she works, focused on holding it together. 

When she leaves to grab the phlebotomist, Steve lets out a staggered exhale and whispers, “I really hate this.” His eyes join yours for the first time that morning, all warm and honeyed. 

You climb onto the paper sheet beside him, sealing his palm between both of yours. “I know, babe. You’re doing so good. Almost done.” 

He cranes over until his forehead meets your neck, eyelashes tickling your skin. You lean into him, planting a kiss on the nearest strip of skin. 

There’s a knock before the door swings open. A new face in the same scrubs. This one is all smiles, however, and chatting up a storm before she even sets her things down. 

Steve sprawls up slowly, eyeing the woman’s caddy as she rambles. 

She familiarizes herself with his chart before getting to work– washing her hands, ripping open the needle packaging, brushing a disinfectant wipe across his skin. It's all happening so fast. Steve’s breath picks up and his eyes dart away to the bland wall beside him. The nurse notices but doesn’t address his fear. She instead tries to distract him, asking him about how you guys met. 

A few words will find his tongue before he’s cut off by a series of gasps. He’s trying so hard to speak but his thoughts keep spilling out in a scrambled mess and that terrifies him even more. It terrifies you too– you’ve never seen him so scared. 

Steve gets a glimpse of the long needle near his arm and flinches away from her fingers. You’re pressing his face into the slope of your neck with your free hand because he keeps trying to watch what she’s doing.

“I need you to stay still, okay, hun? I’ll be so quick, I promise,” the nurse encourages. 

But as soon as her grip on his arm tightens, locking it against the table, he’s losing it. Fat tears are dribbling down his red cheeks and falling onto his lap where you’re clutching his hand. His chest convulses with shallow, uneven breaths, his muscles tensing under the strain of trying to keep his arm still. The needle slides in, and for a moment, his whole body stiffens, but she successfully finds the vein with a single poke and starts draining the blood into a vial.

Gradually, his breath starts to even out as he realizes the worst is behind him. Your fingers weave through his hairline and soothing words are whispered into his skin. A few final hiccups escape into your tear-stained collar.

“All done,” she’s patching him up with a cotton pad and tape and even you’re surprised at how quick it was. 

Steve tilts in your embrace to see the damage, unleashing a shuddered sigh. The nurse smiles at him and he offers a wobbly one back. 

Over a bowl of his favorite ice cream, he hesitantly opens up about his fear, recounting his traumatic experience with a Russian doctor. His words are thick with the weight of the painful memory and anxiety lingers through the tremble in his voice. No matter how many questions you have or how much you wish you could take away the experience, you know the best thing you can do is listen and praise him for his bravery.

[divineecelestial]

Pretty Girl [3] Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary — Eddie thinks he'll actually die if you keep ignoring him. So he's going to make you talk to him. Even if that means climbing through your window.

Word Count — 3.1k

Warnings — graphic depictions of sexual activity, oral sex (fem receiving) dirty talk, Eddie jerks off while eating you out

18+ ONLY

I didn't forget about you sluts.

“I can take you home.” 

You watched as your group of friends slowly disappeared from view, their voices diminishing into silence as the car drove further down the road. The smile faded from your lips as a chilly breeze crashed against you were overcome with the realization that you were alone. Both literally and figuratively. Your friends, something you weren’t even certain you could call them, had forgotten you. No, that wasn’t the right word. Left you must’ve been more accurate because they knew you were there but none of them seemed to even care they left you alone under a yellow streetlamp on an empty road as raindrops dampened your uniform. Yes, left behind was the right term for it. Disregarded and ignored. You glanced down at the brown stains on your white, or what used to be sneakers. Goosebumps rose on your exposed legs as you crossed your arms, trying to preserve as much warmth as you could. You took a deep breath, readying yourself for the journey home as your eyes stung with warm tears.

With reluctance, you peered over your shoulder and sighed shakily. There was a flicker of anger passing through you as you took him in; casually leaning against his van with his adorned hands stuffed inside his pockets. Of course, he was there. He was always there whenever you needed him as far away as possible. You blinked away the dwelling tears and whirled around, ignoring his presence entirely. You didn’t make it very far before you heard his heavy footsteps near you. “Oh, come on. I might be a dick but I’m not gonna let you walk home alone, at night, in the rain.” You wanted to remark that ‘might’ wasn’t accurate. He was a dick. “Especially in your pretty little uniform.” 

You could feel your strands of hair sticking to your skin as you hesitantly faced him. “Oh, so you’re gonna protect me?” You questioned as if the mere idea of him keeping you from everything that goes bump in the night was ridiculous. Because that wasn’t him and that wasn’t how this dynamic worked. “I don’t think so. I’d rather take my chances with whatever is out there.” You said, glancing at the darkness surrounding the town. You knew what was out there. Dealt with everything that could’ve possibly killed you and survived, but here you were, dreading getting inside a car with him.

He loomed closer and your glare hardened as your nostrils flared. God, he couldn’t get over how pretty you looked when you were mad at him. You were finally acknowledging him again with that delicious anger he’d been craving. And for a brief moment, he couldn’t have even bothered to notice your wrath flaming beneath your harsh gaze because you were finally acknowledging him. You were finally looking at him with those damn eyes he swore he could lose himself in and he didn’t seem to care that you were only looking at him because you were on the verge of slapping him across the face.

  Things were different. And this time, this change wasn’t a welcome one and you were desperate for everything to suddenly transform back to ‘normal’. Or as normal as things could get between you two. The weekend arrived and you didn’t want to go anywhere, irrationally worried you were going to see him. Avoiding him like he was contaminated with the plague wasn’t something you were used to. Sure, before this relationship progressed, you didn’t go out of your way to speak with him, but now, you couldn’t even walk in the same hallway without being consumed by embarrassment. 

As ridiculous as this might’ve seemed, the kiss you abruptly pressed against him was strangely intimate. Well, for you it was. Because sex could just be something as simple as people seeking physical pleasure from another person. A simple hook-up. That connection was fiery, consuming, and temporary. You might not have had sex with him, but he allowed you to chase that all-consuming pleasure from him and you felt stupid for thinking he could’ve thought of you as anything other than some sex toy. You kissed him and he rejected you. 

“You don’t mean that.” His smirk was cruel and you were moments from scratching his face until he was unrecognizable. “Come on, pretty girl. I’ll keep my hands to myself and drive with two hands on the wheel.” 

As soon as the words fell from his lips, another breeze moved through the ice-cold air and you shivered. The light rainfall slowly dampened his unruly hair and you knew the downpour was going to drastically change soon. You looked upward at the dark skies and clamoring clouds, silently cursing at them for this. Oh, gosh, this couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t seriously be considering this. Sitting in a small and enclosed space with Eddie Munson for who knows how long after he had practically rejected you was outrageous. You were going to deny the offer when a loud crack echoed throughout town. Thunder. His smile only widened. “Fine. Give me your jacket.” He raised his eyebrows at the sudden demand but complied regardless. That’s how it worked between you both; you demanded and he complied. Most of the time.  In one fluid movement, his jacket was removed and he wordlessly handed it to you. You removed your backpack and cheer bag and roughly smacked it against his chest before walking to his passenger door, decidedly ignoring his groan. He quickened his pace to open the door for you. “If you try any of your shit, I’m jumping out of the car.” You warned.

His jacket was warm and smelled like his cologne and weed. You tightened the fabric around yourself and flicked on the heater. He pulled away from the school’s desolate parking lot and drove away. A minute hadn’t gone by before he opened his mouth. “Why were you at school this late?” He knew why. He had practically memorized your schedule and knew exactly what you were doing most days, but he just wanted to listen to your voice. It had been too long since he had heard your voice directed at him.

You were quiet and didn’t answer immediately. He was going to ask the question again before your voice filled the confines of his car. “Cheer practice.” You answered shortly, gaze remaining outside the window and at the passing blur of colors. “You?” You hesitantly asked. You didn’t know why you bothered asking. You knew what he was doing there. He was cleaning the mess left behind by the Hellfire Club and doing whatever else dungeon masters do. You only knew because the kids were practically attached to him. It’s not like you wanted to know or asked about it before. Of course not.

“Hellfire.” And you must’ve been delusional if you thought Eddie was granting you some kind of mercy and deciding to drive the remainder of the trip in sweet silence. Yes, delusional indeed. “I’ve been trying to talk to you. These past couple of days, you know.” You did know, it was impossible to not notice such an imposing figure in your life like him. Beneath the facade of flippancy and sarcasm, there was the undeniable truth—he was hurt. And this wasn’t an ordinary kind of hurt. This was an ache that throbbed and demanded to be felt, the lifeless thump of a cracked heart before transforming into a sharpness, unlike anything he had ever experienced. Heartache was a disease desperate to be felt. The cure of his was inches away from him, shrouded with his clothes.

“I didn’t notice.” You lied straight through your teeth and he knew you were lying. 

His eyes remained on the road, but his grip on the wheel tightened. “I just wish you would let me explain—”

You breathed in sharply. “There isn’t anything to explain.” Another lie. 

There was another crackle and a flash of light scattered across the sky. “Yes, there is. Just let me—” 

The driveway of your household was steadily approaching and you were already unbuckling your seatbelt, practically tumbling outside as soon as the van stopped moving. “Thank you for the ride.” He watched as you disappeared behind your door, closing it without glancing back. 

Beneath the warmth of your blankets, you readjusted yourself with your eyes closed. Your face was smushed against your pillows, a small sigh escaping you as you squeezed your pillow tighter. The sound of your window opening filled the silent air and your eyes snapped open, hurriedly looking over your shoulder before jolting upright. “Your hair is sticking out everywhere.” A voice said casually. “Cute.” 

The chill from the midnight breeze crashed against you like an icy tidal wave. Across the room, and casually perched on your windowsill, was Eddie. You rubbed the side of your face and groaned, promptly shoving your face back onto your baby pink pillows. You should’ve been worried, frightened even, that he had broken into your room, but the only emotion you could manage was exhaustion. “What are you doing here?” Your voice was muffled as you spoke into the fabric.

This must’ve been a figment of his depraved imagination, a scene plucked from his dreams—you were languidly sprawled across your blankets and wearing nothing but a small nightgown. And that nightgown revealed the softness of your breasts as you slowly faced him, your bare ass peeking beneath the thin fabric. As you pressed your cheek against your palm, finally offering your hazy attention, the breath was stolen from lungs and he subtly latched onto the windowsill to steady himself. “You know, those friends back there didn’t really seem like friends. Just an observation.” He was stalling. He knew he was, but he was desperate for a semblance of normality. 

You breathed in sharply. “Well, you can keep your observations to yourself.” 

It was silent for a beat. “You wanna hear another observation?” He didn’t care if you didn’t.

You yawned, blinking slowly. “Not really, but I’m sure you're going to share anyway.”

He smiled, thoroughly enjoying the annoyance searing your voice. “I think you like being around me because you don’t have to pretend. You can be your mean, stubborn, and bratty self around me. Around them, you have to be The Head Cheerleader.” You weren’t even focusing on the coldness filling the room or even acknowledging that he was inside your room. That hadn’t been processed completely. Yet. “It’s obvious. I don’t know how no one else doesn’t notice.”

Through your sleepy gaze, you narrowed your eyes. “You think you know me, Munson?” 

“No, I do know you.” He answered so surely. “I think you’re forgetting I grew up with you.” That wasn’t something you could ever forget even if you had tried. And you had desperately. “You were my first-ever crush. I was obsessed with you. Still am, by the way.” He casually added. “I grew up watching you. I memorized everything about you. I even watched those damn pep rallies for you. Failed classes so you could be my tutor. I even bribed Mr. Johnson so I could be your partner for the project that let me see those pretty little panties of yours.”

He moved away from the windowsill and loomed closer to the edge of your bed. “So I need you to understand something. You were my first and only crush. You were my first of many wet dreams. You were the only girl who made me nervous and made me feel like some lovesick loser because you looked at me. There were times when I couldn’t fucking function because you smelled so good, said something so damn smart in class, or yelled at Carver for being a dick. I need you to understand I have been and still am, fucking crazy for you and you kissed me.”

He kneeled, his tentative hands softly caressing your thighs before pressing a small kiss on your knee. “I need you to understand that I’m the loser who plays D&D with freshmen, sells weed, and hasn’t had a girlfriend, who fucking watches porn to practice for this exact moment and you’re you.” Another gentle kiss on your other knee. “And, fuck, you’re so perfect. The goddamn prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” A kiss on your thigh. “So damn smart.” Another kiss on your other thigh. “And you’re funny. You challenge me.” His nose nudged the hem of your nightgown as he licked the inside of your thigh. “So I do know you and I know you like me. And that’s something I can’t wrap my head around.”

You shuddered as his breath brushed against your skin, unintentionally wrapping your leg around his shoulder, your calf pressed against his back, pulling him closer. You whispered his name, a plead for something. Anything. Your voice, breathless and desperate, was a siren’s call and he would’ve swam to the depths of the darkest ocean to hear it again and again.

The words uttered from his flushed lips were barely processed as lifted the hem of your nightgown. His eyes rolled to the back of his head before closing them, almost as if he were murmuring a silent prayer, and he took a moment to admire the godly sight before him. Hidden beneath the softness of your nightgown and thighs was something he had only dreamed of. Yeah, of course, he’d seen pussies before. From porn, mind you, but this was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He didn’t understand how you, probably the most perfect woman to ever roam this earth, had just become even better. 

You could feel each slow breath from him as he simply admired. “Do something.” You whispered. Your voice was a soft reminder that he needed to move, do something as you put it. Slowly, his tongue dragged across your pussy and a primal groan escaped his mouth. He pulled away suddenly and you glanced at him curiously. He looked concentrated, brows scrunched together in deep thought. “I-Is something wrong?” 

A moment passed and he shook his head. “I’m just trying not to cum.” He eventually said. 

You threw your head back and laughed, which was stifled by a moan as he shoved his head back between your thighs. His initial movements were experimental, unsure, but as he continued and listened to your sounds, he knew what he was doing. Sort of. “Fuck, yes.” Your voice was unrecognizable to your own ears and the moans slipping from your lips were unlike anything you had made when alone. 

This was the exact moment where Eddie decided he was going to marry you in the future. But first he was going to make you cum. 

With his tongue still flicking against your clit, occasionally sucking, he unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock from the confines of his clothes. Your legs shook as he shoved two ringed fingers inside you, slowly pumping you and memorizing every detail of this moment before he gathered the juices of your arousal and jerked himself off. “So fucking wet.” He said, pathetically whining as the pornographic sound of your wetness coated his cock. “I don’t know how I lived this long without tasting you.”

Your thighs pressed against his face as your hand pulled his hair and he promptly decided if he were to die tonight, he would die a happy man. This is where he belonged. Most men wanted to be businessmen, sleep on a bed full of money with dozens of women keeping them company, but he didn’t. His face shoved between your shaking thighs, sucking on your clit as you yanked his hair and moaned his name, was where he belonged. “Please don’t stop.” You pleaded. And as much as Eddie loved hearing you yell at him, he decided this was how he wanted to hear you from now on. "Yes, yes, yes. Don't stop."

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my pretty girl.” God, him and that nickname were going to be the death of you. 

“I-I’m gonna—” Your voice cracked and you couldn’t finish your own sentence. 

His hand clutched your thigh with a newfound roughness, pulling your closer, and his other hand squeezed and tugged his leaking cock. “Come on, pretty girl. Come for me.” His pace and movements didn’t change or falter. “Give it to me. Come for me, please. I need it.” 

At that moment, you decided Eddie wasn’t going anywhere. He was never getting rid of you because he ate your pussy like a starving man and made you cum until you saw twinkling stars. “You have the filthiest fucking mouth—”

His wet mouth pressed against yours, his hands coated with your juices and he clutched your cheek. “You taste that?” He asked after pulling away, his lips faintly brushed against yours, teasing. “That’s the taste of the prettiest girl—” He kissed you again and you were barely able to process the softness of his mouth against you before he pulled away again. “Who fucking likes me and can’t deny it.”

And his knees buckled as you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him against you. “What have you done to me, Eddie Munson?”  You mumbled. He could feel your glittering smile against his and there wasn’t anything more beautiful. 

He saw the gilded walls surrounding your heart and decided he was going to do everything he could to get there. He poked and prodded, tugged and pulled before deciding to take a jackhammer and destroy everything keeping him from you. “My five-year plan of seducing you finally worked.” And he stopped for only a moment, processing the mere fact that this was real. He was really touching you, tasting you, licking your cum off his soaked lips. “I’ve dreamed of this.” His voice was low and below a whisper, his warm breath tickling your face with each word. You could feel the warmth of his lips touching your shoulder, a ghostly caress against your skin.  

You placed a few random pecks on his face. “I really like you, Eddie Munson.” There was vulnerability exuding from you, unlike anything he’d ever seen from you before. 

“So this is what the famous [Y/N] is like behind closed doors.” The pouring rain soaked the floor outside your room, the grey clouds visible through the droplet-covered windows.  "Who would’ve thought my pretty girl was so sweet?” 

You playfully rolled your eyes, smacking his arm. “Shut up.” You laughed. He would've fought (and probably lose) anyone just to hear that beautiful sound again and again.

“That’s not what you were saying earlier. Oh, Eddie, please don’t stop. I’m gonna cum!” He mocked with an obnoxiously high pitched voice.

You decided a another kiss would be the best way to shut him up. “God, you’re so pretty I’m gonna faint.” He mumbled, squeezing your breasts and pinching your hardened nipples. “Can I please fuck you? If I don’t fuck you and cum inside that pretty pussy, I think I’ll die.”

You moaned into his mouth and he gratefully swallowed the sound. “Yeah, come on, Eds, fill me up.”

“Fuck yes.”

[puckinghischier]

The 7th Year

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader wants to celebrate Nico’s 7 year anniversary of being drafted to the Devils

notes: i really wanted to post this on his actual draft anniversary but i’m a slacker and didn’t finish it in time, so here it is now. it still counts cause it’s still draft week, right? anyways, i hope you enjoy and happy reading! 🫶🏼

[4.4k]

“Jack, it’s all wrong!” you cry out, looking at the orange cake sitting in front of you.

“Listen, we can fix it. I can run down to the nearest grocery store and have them make me a new one really quick,” Jack tries to reason with you, attempting to avoid the incoming meltdown.

Today was Nico’s seven-year anniversary of being drafted to the Devils. You know it’s an in-between milestone, most people celebrating every five years, but you didn’t care. You weren’t with him two years ago, having only been dating the hockey captain for a little over a year, so you were determined to make a big deal out of this milestone instead.

Your apartment was decked out in every tacky, red or devil related decoration imaginable, from cardboard cut-outs of Nico littered throughout the large living space to a custom ‘pin the horns on the nico’ party game you ordered for the occasion.

“Jack, I special ordered this cake four months ago, because the bakery he likes had a waiting list almost six months long for their cake decorator. I literally told them I’d pay extra if they could have it done by today,” you shut the lid of the cake box, not wanting to look at the orange monstrosity any longer.

You had sent them several reference pictures of what you wanted done, confirming with them last week that they had the correct pictures and color scheme.

“Well, at least they got the logo right?” Jack tries again, watching you run your hands through your recently curled hair.

People were set to start showing up any minute now, and you were panicking about being ready in time for Nico’s return home in a little over an hour. You barely had time to shower and make yourself presentable after spending all day transforming your apartment into a Nico museum.

All of his trophies and medals from childhood up until now are displayed on various surfaces around your shared apartment, action shot posters are taped on the living room walls, taking the place of your decorative pictures, and several of his old jerseys are on display in shadow boxes propped up in the high-top chairs that usually sit around the small table on your balcony, but are currently placed in various spots around the large room.

“Yeah, sure. The logo says Devils, but the colors say Flyers,” you mumble, pinching the bridge of your nose, trying to stop yourself from crying off your fresh make-up.

Jack had been a trooper today. Luke too. The two of them had shown up to your apartment not even twenty minutes after Nico left with Jesper and Timo this morning for their early tee time. They helped you decorate and arrange your entire apartment, ran all over Hoboken with you grabbing last minute stuff for the evening, and Luke is out right now picking up the catering order that was supposed to be delivered but somehow got marked for pick up.

Your phone starts ringing in the middle of your deep breathing moment, trying to calm your nerves.

“Luke, please tell me you have the food and are on your way home,” you answer the phone, praying Luke is calling to check in and not to give you bad news.

“Yeah, I got it. On my way now. Just calling to check and see if you need anything else while I’m out,” he tells you, the sound of his car door shutting heard in the background.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. At least the food is taken care of, you think to yourself. “No, I think we’re good. I double checked everything before I got in the shower. And Jack has been setting stuff up while I was getting ready. Just please get here in one piece with the food before I have a small stroke,” you attempt a joke, but your tone sounds more strained than anything.

“Aye Aye, Mrs. Captain,” you hear through the phone, picturing the small salute Luke is likely doing right now.

You chuckle out a goodbye and hang up your phone.

“So, am I good to go get changed now, or do you need me to talk you off a ledge right now?” Jack asks you, treading lightly.

You send him an unamused glare. “No, I think I’ve done everything I can do until Luke gets here with the food. Go, change. Shower if you need to,” you wave him off, grabbing the cake on the counter in front of you and walking to place it in the large fridge.

“Alright, but if I hear the balcony door open I won’t hesitate to run out here butt naked to make sure you’re not trying to make an escape,” he sings out as he walks out of your kitchen, turning down the hallway towards your guest bathroom.

You flip him off even though he can’t see you, a smile on your face nonetheless.

Thirty minutes later, Jack is showered and dressed and a few of Nico’s teammates have shown up, decked out in the t-shirts you had ordered and distributed to everyone.

Each of Nico’s teammates are wearing a shirt with his picture from his draft on it. No matter who you were looking at, Nico’s smiling baby face, devils hat on his head and devils jersey pulled over his formal attire, with one finger pointed in the air to signify his being picked first overall, was looking back at you.

You thought it would be funny to have Nico walk into a surprise celebration with his face staring back at him from nearly everyone in attendance, and when you pitched the idea to his teammates they were all for it.

You had ordered your own shirt with Nico’s face on it, too. Although, yours was one of the shirts in the WWE style, overlapping, various pics of Nico making up the design.

As the time got closer to Nico coming home, more and more of his teammates and their significant others showed up, ready to surprise their captain.

Ten minutes before Nico was due arrive, you get a call from Jesper.

“Hey, you guys almost here?” you answer, walking away from the noise of your living room.

“Yeah, leaving the bar now,” he tells you, pausing to bid someone in the background goodbye and ringing out ‘thank you’ a few times as he walks out of the bar.

Jesper and Timo were tasked with keeping Nico busy and away from home today. It started with their game of golf, but quickly turned into an additional eighteen holes and trying to kill time at the clubhouse bar when their games went by far quicker than they anticipated.

Around lunchtime, Timo called you and told you Nico kept saying he was going to bow out early to come home and spend some time with you, but you begged them to find a way to keep him occupied. You ended up having to send him a message, telling him you were out with a friend for a quick lunch before a fake nail appointment that turned into a real one once he asked to see what design you had chosen this time. Which is why you were late getting ready, having to leave Jack to decorate the apartment during your impromptu salon trip.

Most of the time you love that Nico is so invested in your relationship. He always wants to spend time with you, going with you to hair and nail appointments, following you around like a puppy when you go shopping, and simply sticking around the house on days when he has nothing planned just to catch up on your latest reality show obsession he always gets hooked into.

Today, though, you wish he was a little more apt to spending time with his friends. The amount of ‘I miss you’ and ‘can’t wait to come home and binge love island!’ texts you got today made you love him even more – if that’s even possible – but also made your anxiety sky rocket each time, because you know if he wanted to, he would simply leave in the middle of his plans with Timo and Jesper, no amount of convincing able to keep him there.

“Alright, don’t forget your shirts,” you start to remind him. You turn your body to look behind you, hearing a chorus of “Lukey!” and “Moose!” ring out, signaling Luke was finally back with the food. “Hey, I gotta go Jesp, Luke just got back with the food. Be safe!” you rush out before hanging up, making your way back into the small crowd.

You weave through bodies until you reach your kitchen, watching Luke attempt to sit down the large disposable trays.

“Luke, please don’t drop those,” you run over to him, helping him slide the heavy food onto your kitchen island.

You unstack the pans, making sure each one is unharmed and an appropriate distance from the edge of the counter.

“C’mon, Y/N, have a little more faith in me than that. I can carry a few trays of food,” he tells you, dramatically flexing his arms at you.  

You roll your eyes at the curly-headed giant. Checking the time on your phone, you figure you have enough time to try and set up the food a little bit before Nico gets here. Opening the various pans, you freeze.

“Luke…what is this?” you ask him, a cold feeling washing over you.

Luke furrows his brows at you, peeking over your shoulder from his spot behind you. “The food you asked me to get? Is this a trick question?”

You dropped the flimsy lid, condensation from the hot dish flying everywhere.

When you were thinking about what food you wanted to have for the party, you knew it would be in the off-season, the Devils losing their playoff spot pretty early this season. So, you figured it would be a good time to order a few pans of his favorite dishes from his favorite Italian restaurant.

You ordered a pan of their lasagna, chicken parm, and a large pan of a steak and pasta dish specific to the restaurant. You had called them to confirm this morning, which is how you found out it was marked as pick up instead of delivery, causing Luke to have to drive forty-five minutes one way in order to grab the food.

What you were unaware of, however, is the fact that this restaurant, apparently, also caters an array of vegan options.

When you opened the three pans, you were met with a large pan of what looked like roasted cauliflower with tomato sauce, eggplant boats covered in pesto, and what looked like breaded and baked zucchini. 

You had no issue with vegan food, some of it being some of the most delicious food you’ve ever eaten, but this is not at all what you envisioned surprising Nico with.

“I ordered lasagna, chicken parm, and steak pasta. There is no chicken, parm, steak, or layered noodles in front of me right now,” you try to keep your tone even and calm, knowing it’s not Luke’s fault.

“I swear, they handed me the box of food that had your name on it. I even checked the receipt and everything,” Luke defended himself.

You can feel the tears welling up, despite your attempt at taking big, deep breaths to avoid your emotions getting the best of you.

When the first tear falls over, the rest come crashing out before you could even stop them. You bring your face to your hands and start sobbing, upset that you couldn’t have everything be perfect for such an important day for Nico.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Luke coos as he wraps you in a hug, your face still hidden by your hands. “You’re going to ruin your make-up. You don’t want to greet Nico while looking like a little raccoon, do you?” you let out a chuckle at Luke’s words, his attempt at cheering you up working for a quick moment.

You bring your hands away from your face, sniffling and trying to carefully wipe your eyes. Luke keeps you trapped in a hug, giving you a few moments to collect yourself before stepping back, rubbing your arms instead.

“I just wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted Nico to walk in here and see all of his friends here, ready to celebrate him. I wanted to surprise him with his favorite meal and his favorite cake from his favorite bakery, since he doesn’t ever get this stuff during the season. But instead he gets an orange cake and a vegan dinner,” you huff, gesturing to the food in front of you.

“Well, he’ll definitely be surprised,” Luke attempts another joke, this one earning a sarcastic laugh instead of a genuine one. “Listen, we can fix it, okay? We’ll call the place and get a refund then order a few pizzas, alright? It’ll be fine. Everyone likes pizza.”

He bends his knees so he’s eye level with you, trying to gauge your reaction to his suggestion.

You look over to the food on the counter, bringing a sliver of your bottom lip in-between your teeth, mulling the idea over in your head.

“Yeah, we can do that. Everyone does like pizza, don’t they?” you try to convince yourself pizza will be fine, you could just take Nico out to dinner for his Italian food later this week.

“They sure do. And lucky for you, I have the best pizzeria in Hoboken on speed dial. I’ll make them do a rush order for their favorite customer,” Luke winks down at you, stepping away to pull out his phone and make the last-minute order.

You cover the food in front of you back up, picking up each tray and tossing them in the trash can at the end of your island, knowing that a group of hungry hockey players wouldn’t want three trays worth of vegetables to eat for party food.

You stand in the middle of the kitchen, trying to compose yourself and wipe away any mascara residue when Jack comes running through the open doorway, frantic eyes landing on you.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Why do you look like you’ve been crying? Jesper just texted and said they’re on the elevator on their way up,” he rushes out, walking towards you to make sure you’re alright.

“Catering mishap, Luke’s ordering pizza now. Don’t worry, I’m fine. Go grab him, quick,” you suddenly perk up, nerves bubbling in your stomach.

As you follow Jack out of the kitchen and make your way to the front of the small crowd at the end of your entry way, all you can think about is hoping Nico likes what you’ve done. You hope he doesn’t think the decorations are too tacky, or that the shirts are weird. You hope he’s okay with eating greasy pizza and orange cake. You hope he likes the custom Halifax and Devils split jersey you plan to gift him later to represent where he started and where he is now. Overall, you just hope he understands how proud you are of him.

You see Jack and Luke walk up beside you out of the corner of your eye, matching with the rest of their teammates that are surrounding you. Luke leans down to whisper “Pizza’s ordered, it’ll be here in twenty,” into your ear before standing back to his original height and facing forward, waiting on his captain to walk through the door.

You’re suddenly hit with a thought about how thankful you are for the people surrounding you. For Jack and Luke who dealt with your demanding and crazy self today, talking you off of ledges and running around doing your bidding all day long. You’re thankful for the teammates that showed up today, ready to celebrate the captain they love almost as much as you do. You’re thankful for Timo and Jesper, making sure Nico stays in the dark about the surprise, doing everything in their power to keep him out of your hair until this moment.

You’re so incredibly thankful that the universe has allowed you to not only love someone as kind, loving, and special as Nico, but that he loves you back just as much. You also gained an entire family through Nico, his teammates treating you like one of their own, showing you just as much love and care as they do him. You’ve found some of your best friends through him, Jack, Luke, Timo, and Jesper being four of the best people you’ve ever had in your life.

The sound of the front door opening distracts you from your sentimental thoughts. You see Jesper enter first, his Nico shirt looking a little out of place paired with his golf pants. Nico follows him in, blindfolded. You have to stop a snort from making its way out, not knowing Timo and Jesper were going to resort to blindfolding him. Timo follows a step behind Nico, hands on his shoulders, guiding him and preventing him from bumping into anything.

Timo guides him to a few feet in front of you, stopping him before dropping his hands from his shoulders.

“Alright, Cap, you can take your blindfold off now,” Jesper tells him, him and Timo quickly stepping over to where you stand, joining the rest of their team.

Nico reaches up the untie the blindfold on his head. “I swear to god, if you guys did this just to mess with me and take me to another bar I’m going to kill both of you. I told you I just wanted to go home to Y/N-“ Nico stops mid-sentence when the cloth falls into his hands.

A loud, “Surprise!” rings out around the room, Nico’s eyes darting to each person, then down to their shirts.

You stand there, smiling at his shocked face.

“What-“ he starts, but stops, speechless at the scene in front of him.

You step forward the few feet to him, his gaze finally landing on you.

“Happy draft anniversary, baby,” you tell him, smiling up at him.

He looks down at you, eyebrows furrowing. You can tell he didn’t remember what day it was until this moment, his eyes looking around the room again, understanding settling in on the choice of shirts.

“You did all this? For me?” he asks, a smile taking over his face as he looks down on you.

“Well, duh,” you tell him. “Your seven-year draft anniversary is a big deal, you know?”

He beams down at you, the amount of love in his eyes enough to nearly knock you down.

“I love you, you know that?” he asks, wrapping his arms around you, pulling your body close to his.

“I think you’ve told me once or twice,” you tease.

He rolls his eyes at you, bringing his lips down to meet yours. The kiss is innocent and sweet, considering most of his team is stood behind you, but it was enough to cause a feeling of warmth to wash over you, all the way down to your toes.

When you pull back from the kiss you can’t help but to keep smiling at him. “Alright, go greet your teammates now. I’ll find you later,” you tell him, patting him on the chest as you step back.

Nico gives you a wink before he walks over to his friends and teammates, making his way through hugs and handshakes.

You mostly sit back and observe for most of the night, splitting off from the festivities when the pizza was delivered, placing it in the kitchen and announcing everyone to just serve themselves.

You make your way around your apartment, conversing with Nico’s various coworkers. You cross paths with Nico a few times, each time he tried to whisk you away to your shared bedroom, but you insisted he have a good time with his friends, there’ll be plenty of time for the two of you later. You stick around Jack and Luke some, but finding yourself in a corner talking to Nicole, Jesper’s girlfriend towards the end of the night.

“Y/N, seriously, this is great. I wish I would have thought of something like this for Jesper. Nico hit the jackpot with you,” Nicole compliments.

Your cheeks redden. “He deserves it. I mean, he left everything he’d ever known in Switzerland to come here and pursue this. And look how well he did for himself,” you turn to look over at him standing with Jonas and Erik, Jonas attempting his turn at pinning the devil horns on the large poster of Nico on the wall.

You’ve always been amazed at Nico’s bravery and determination to pursue this dream, knowing how hard it was for you to move just a few states away from your family, much less halfway across the world. He proved every single person that told him he wouldn’t make it wrong, not only getting drafted, but being the first overall pick. And now he earned his captaincy on top of that, proving he’s not only a phenomenal player, but an even better teammate and leader.

“I think he did very well for himself, and not just in reference to hockey, either,” she tells you, leaning over and placing a hand on your leg to emphasize her point.

You look down, not particularly knowing how to respond to her compliments.

“Hey, Y/N, want us to stick around and help clean up,” you hear a voice ask you, turning around to see only Jack, Luke, Jesper and Timo remaining.

Nico walks over to you as Nicole stands and joins Jesper.

“Nah, you guys head out. We’ll call you tomorrow if we need any help,” Nico answers for you, standing behind you and placing his hands on your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze.

“That’s code for ‘get out you goons, I’m trying to be alone with my girl right now,’” Jack says, earning a chuckle from the group.

You and Nico walk everyone to the door, saying your goodbyes before shutting the apartment door and turning around to observe the state of your apartment.

“Don’t even think about trying to clean anything up tonight. You’re not lifting a finger for the rest of the night,” Nico threatens, slipping his arms around your torso from behind, burying his face in your neck.

“C’mon, at least let me clean up the cups your lazy teammates didn’t throw away,” you pat his hands, starting to walk him over to start picking up the red, plastic cups.

“Alright, but after that we’re going to the bedroom and aren’t leaving until this time tomorrow,” Nico points a finger at you as he separates from your body.

The two of you gather all of the stray cups, bringing them into the kitchen to throw them away. You notice the empty pizza boxes, breaking a few of them down while asking Nico to put the leftovers in your fridge so they don’t ruin.

“What’s in the box?” he asks, grabbing the white cake box and dragging it out of the fridge.

“Oh no! I totally forgot about the cake!” you exclaim.

“You bought me a cake?” Nico opens the box.

He looks up at you, amusement in his eyes. “Schatz, why did you get me an orange Devils cake?”

You groan, bringing your hands up to rake them down your face.

“It was supposed to be red, but the bakery fucked it up and I didn’t know until they delivered it,” you explained, walking over to stand next to him as he looks between the cake and you.

“The catering was messed up too,” you continued. “I tried to order your favorite dishes from that Italian place you like, but they sent a bunch of vegan dishes instead, so Luke had to order pizza last minute.”

Nico lets out a laugh at your confession. “So, you threw me a draft anniversary party with an orange cake and vegan food?” he teases, closing the lid to the cake box and turning his body to face you.

You give him a pout. “Don’t make fun of me, I was trying to be nice to you.”

This earns another laugh, Nico placing his hands on either side of your pouting face.

“You could have thrown me a party with water soup as the entrée and ice cubes as appetizers and I would still think it’s the best party I’ve ever been to, simply because you planned it,” he tells you, looking down into your eyes.

“You meant it? You enjoyed yourself tonight?” you ask him earnestly, that small seed of worry making its way back into your brain.

Nico doesn’t answer, he leans down to kiss you for the second time that night. This time, though, he wasn’t as slow and sweet as he was when you had an audience.

His kiss isn’t rushed, but with his tongue slipping its way into your mouth, it quickly turns into a partial make-out session in your kitchen.

He pulls back once the two of you need to come up for air, resting his forehead against yours.

“I had a blast tonight. The shirts were a nice touch, by the way,” he smirks at you.

You let out a giggle, thinking of how funny it was when he registered all of his teammates were wearing his face on their chest.

“Thank you, seriously,” his tone turns serious. “I can’t even begin to explain to you what this means to me. I just wish I could’ve had you by my side from the start.”

You look at him through his long lashes, not being able to think about anything except for how much you love him at this moment.

“Well, you’ll have me until the end of it. Or until you get sick of me, whichever comes first,” you joke, causing Nico to pull his forehead back from yours.

He uses his hands that are still on your face to tilt your head up to look at him. “Not possible. If anyone gets sick of anyone around here it’s going to be you getting sick of me, because I never want to be anywhere but by your side.”

You just stare up at him, shaking your head in a no motion, the intensity of his stare taking any words from the tip of your tongue.

You both just stand there, staring at each other for what feels like hours, but was really just a few moments.

“Enough of us just standing in the kitchen, I think it’s time we take this little party to our bedroom so I can really show you how thankful I am,” he breaks the silence, his eyes going from love to lust before you could even blink.

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, just throwing you over his shoulder while you squeal, carrying you to your bedroom. As you pass all of the decorations on the hallway walls on your way to the bedroom, you’re already thinking of how you can make year eight’s anniversary even better, especially if Nico is as thankful next year as he proves to be this year, thanking you over and over and over again once you reach your bedroom.

[astaroth1357]

So. As something of a connoisseur of depictions of the 7 Deadly Sins in media, I was just mulling over FMAB and thought, “I don’t know if anyone as crossed this over with OM before, but that would actually be kinda fire though.”

Like, imagine each of the brothers with the destructive powers of their respective Homunculi.

~♡♡♡~

Lucifer coming off as the most normal at first, until MC catches how his shadow bends and curves to avoid harsh light. They swear they sometimes hear him chuckling in the dark corners of the House, but they never actually find him anything there when they check. Red eyes reveal themselves in unlit rooms and follow them through the halls, all the while they keep wondering how he always seems to know where they are whenever he's away…

Mammon hardening his skin to be tougher than diamond, then using it to reinforce his claws and smoothly cut a perfect circle into glass display case. Him letting himself get punched when things don’t matter, but instantly hardening his cheek to break the assailant's hand whenever he starts getting serious. Or literally using his body to protect MC from harm as their first man and loyal shield.

Leviathan having a MASSIVE aquatic beast form that he shoves into a normal sized body, making him feel even more distant to others. Using transformations to regularly make himself look like his favorite anime characters/idols since he can’t stand the thought of looking at his true form. Yet, he still has that conservation of mass going, so he can simultaneously look like a 12 year-old girl and kick a car down the street like a soccerball.

Satan using his gifted sight to become an absolute force of nature. Not just a mere brute, but a sophisticated and effective killing machine with the wit and reflexes to mow down entire armies before breaking a sweat. Never blinded by fury, but harnessing his rage behind every inescapable strike. Him silently vowing that any threat to MC or his family will barely get to finish a thought before he's cut them down with precision and grace.

Asmodeus mostly using his extending nails for glorious manicures, but not being afraid to pierce the heart or lungs of anyone he doesn’t much like. He hears an incubus talking shit from a few tables down and stabs a hole through the jerk's skull while never looking away from his milkshake. His fights with Mammon getting 1000 times more destructive as his razor sharp claws bounce off his brother's skin and dig into the walls and furniture. The only thing he hates about them are how long it takes to scrub the blood off his nails afterwards.

*silently contemplates the possibility of Beel ripping himself in half to reveal a nightmarish second “stomach” capable of sucking anything into a blood-filled pocket dimension of which there is no light, hope, or escape* … Okay, moving on.

And of course, for those unaware FMAB Sloth could run at like the speed of sound which was threatening because he was also a behemoth. However, Belphie probably weights 125 pounds when wet, so… I admittedly get a giggle at the idea of him giving Lucifer a speed-of-light drop kick from across the House. That is probably all he would use it for, too. Him just getting those horns out and going into ramming speed… What a menace

Bonus: Wonder what kind of alchemist Solomon would be? 🤔

[i-starcreamed]

MIRAGE X READER

hii rotb has made me fall in love with...a lot more transformers now. This is just a silly idea I had, kinda lame but idc. Being cringe and free now. Anyways, planning to make this a small series maybe? Mirage lovers where are you?? Could eventually make this a mirage x reader x Noah, love them both, really. Or you know, Noah could be a third wheel, you guys decide that

[ human!gn reader summary: You have no idea how you got into this situation. First, you were trying to steal a true beauty of a car with your friend Noah to get some extra cash with Reek working behind the scenes (apparently) And now, you were in the Porche you guys were planning to steal. Mind you, it's currently driving itself.

"Holy shit!" You yelled in terror as the car careened wildly around the curve, sending both you and Noah lurching to the left side of the vehicle. You clung onto the door handle for dear life, your heart pounding in your chest as a combination of fear and adrenaline caused you to burst out into wild laughter. Noah, on the other hand, let out an ear-splitting, high-pitched scream as he death-gripped onto the steering wheel with both hands. "STOP STOP STOP!"

The radio kept picking up a certain frequency, it was static-y but still clear enough to understand it kept reaching out towards something or someone named Mirage.

After crashing several police cars, running red lights, and being tossed around the car, the silver and blue Porche entered a warehouse of some sort and literally tossed you out onto the cement. Noah groaned as he rolled on his side. You on the other hand, didn't manage to fall onto the ground and gripped onto the seat. You thought it was over but noo, all of a sudden the car decides to transform, its component parts moving and shifting into new positions. You stare in awe and fear as the walls around you warp and bend ever so slightly; the seat beneath you shifts away from you before slowly, almost hesitantly dropping you onto the ground. You stare up and after a couple seconds, the car transformed into a fucking robot. Towering several feet in front of you and Noah, you both stare up in fear. You're a bit amazed honestly, you're staring at a giant metal dude stretch and prance around the warehouse, ranting about being cooped up this entire time.

You and Noah shared a look.

"But that was cool, you guys are cool. A bit loud, ehh, but cool." The robot stood in front of you now, his gaze focused on the both of you. You froze, Noah scrambled around to pick up a metal pipe. "Woah woah woah!" The robot held his hands up. You cursed under your breath and scrambled to get behind Noah, trying to look for anything you can use as a weapon as the robot focused on Noah. You found a couple loose bolts and nuts on the ground and scooped them up in your palm.

You approached Noah's side, menacingly brandishing the tiny screws in your hand. The robot quickly put his hands in the air. "What are you gonna do, you gonna hit me?"

You both looked at eachother. Noah shifted, adjusting his stance while still holding up the pipe. "Maybe?" The robot made a noise akin to a scoff and his left arm started transforming into something else, oh god oh fuck. Before you even had time to register it, you threw a bolt at him. It hit his arm and he froze. "Hey- what?"

You were launching bolts at him, your shots greeted with a "hey, hey, hey!" each time they clanked against his frame. You kept getting closer, pushing him back further and further, surprising yourself with your own nerve. That confidence instantly disappeared when he whipped out his arm-gun, the blue light from the barrel seemed to lock onto you and Noah, like two deer in headlights. "Can you- stop throwing those things at me?!"

"woah, woah, woah-" Noah quickly put his hands up and walked up to you, standing in front of you. "Let's all calm down, alright? Alright? We good?" "Noah, what the hell is this about?" You whisper yelled.

"I dont know! Just dont get us killed" he whisper yelled back.

You huffed defiantly, you quickly took the bat from Noah's hands and tightly gripped it. You adopted a battle-ready stance, staring down the giant robot - thing? - truly unyielding. Neither of you backed down until he put the gun down, straightening up. "Okay okay, you're brave. I like that."

Your face dropped, dumbfounded. Noah reached out and firmly snatched the bat from you, his face a mask of barely-contained irritation. "what did I fucking tell you about not trying to get us killed, dude?" He hissed.

What the hell was going on.

[chgridlock]

Fine. LN- pt 2.

Part. 1 here: https://www.tumblr.com/chgridlock/749224119672995840/fine-ln-series-1

Y/n and Lando were childhood best friends, an inseparable duo who knew each other’s secrets like the back of their hand. But then came F1. Lando transformed into a playboy prince, his name synonymous with champagne showers and a different model on every arm. Models just like y/n, except for her. Disgusted, she distanced herself, the warmth of their friendship replaced by a biting cold. Y/n, chasing her own dreams, blossomed into a sough-after model, gracing the covers of magazines right under Lando’s nose, well, at least that’s what she assumed. In taught, Lando followed her religiously on social media, a secret admirer hidden behind a facade of arrogante.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, ex best friends au, Lando being a little dick

The torrential downpour caught me off guard, it was way worst now, transforming the picturesque cobblestone streets into a treacherous obstacle course. My flimsy jacket offered little protection against the relentless onslaught, and my heels sank precariously into the slick pavement with each step. I was a comical sight, a clumsy ballet dancer struggling against the elements.

Lando watched from the car, his initial annoyance replaced by a growing sense of unease. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt stab at his heart. Perhaps he had been too hard. Seeing you struggle, your once defiant stance replaced by a comical awkwardness, chipped away at his resolve.

He sighed, a heavy exhale that fogged up the windshield for a moment. With a flick of his wrist, he threw the car back into park, the engine sighing softly to a halt. The silence outside was broken only by the relentless drumming of the rain in the roof.

“Just get back in…” he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the downpour. I could sense the shame in his eyes, a fleeting moment of vulnerability before it was masked by his gruff demeanor.

I couldn’t help but scoff at his suggestion. “Oh, really?” I drawled, my voice dripping with sarcasm. With a flick of my damp hair, I sashayed past the car, the precariousness of my heel adding an element of defiance to my movements. “Who does he think he is for real…” I think to myself.

Lando watched me go, a wave of frustration washing over him. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel, the sound echoing hollowly in the car. “Damn it…” he muttered, more to himself than anything else.

“Can you just get back in the car?” He yelled, his voice laced with exasperation. “Do you have any idea how stubborn you are right now?” The rain blurred his vision as he looked out at my retreating figure, a sense of helplessness gnawing at him.

“You literally said ‘get out’” i retorted, my voice barely a whisper carried on the wind. I stopped, turning to face him, my posture stiff and defiant despite the rain cascading down my face. “It’s not my fault that you’re so-“

He cut me off, his voice rising in frustration. “I said ‘get out’ because you were being difficult…” he explained, the words tumbling out in a rush. But even to his own ears, they sounded hollow.

“Difficult?” I scoffed, the sound laced with a hurt that mirrored his own.

“It’s no my fault that you’re so stubborn and unreasonable that you’d rather walk in this heavy rain and get soaked to the bone than accept my help.”

I stood there, a defiant island in a sea of rain, my jacket clutched protectively around my shivering form. I met his gaze, a silent battle of wills playing out between us. The air crackled with unspoken emotions.

He glared at you, his eyes burning with a mix of anger. His patience had worn thin, freaked by your defiance like a threadbare rope. Dealing with this felt like navigating a minefield, one wrong step and the whole thing would explode.

“Fine,” he spat, the word laced with venom. “Walk home alone in the rain. Be an idiot. Just know that I don’t care if you catch a chill or a fever.”

He revved the engine, the sound growling in the quiet street. A flicker of satisfaction crossed his features as he glanced at you in the rearview mirror. But the satisfaction curdled quickly, replaced by something akin to worry again. How can you do this to him? You felt like a drug he can’t let go.

You stood there, a solitary figure dwarfed by the storm, your bravado slowly dissolving as the rain soaked through your clothes. Seeing you like that, shivering and defiant, chipped away at his resolve. He couldn’t understand why he care. He didn’t want to care.

But you irritated him so much, that the line between annoyance and concern became blurred. He slammed on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt. Before he couldn’t think twice, he was out of the car, his boots splashing through the puddles separating you.

He approached you, his jaw clenched tight. He wanted to scream at you, to shake some sense into your stubborn head. But the anger simmered just below the surface, overshadowed by a strange protectiveness he couldn’t explain. He stood in front of you, towering over your rain-soaked form, the unspoken conflict swirling between you thick enough to touch.

“Can you please come in the car now?” He finally managed, his voice rough around the edges. A hint of exasperation lingered, but beneath it, a softer note resonated- concern. Your Lan. “Your clothes are all soaked. I’ll drive you home.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a command, albeit a reluctant one. You sighed, the sound heavy with a concession he wasn’t entirely sure he’d earned.

“Fine,” you mumbled, defeat lacing you voice. “Just because my feet are killing me.”

He rolled his eyes, a flicker of annoyance persisting despite the relief that washed over him. “Then come on”

He extended his hand towards you, a silent invitation. His voice remained gruff, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing beneath the surface.

“I can go alone,” you challenged, a hint of defiance clinging to your voice.

He rolled his eyes again, exasperation bubbling back up. “Don’t be stubborn. Take my goddamn hand.”

He barked the order, clearly annoyed. His anger, like a storm cloud, was threatening to engulf the fragile truce that had just been established. But the moment your fingers brushed his, a jolt of electricity sit through him, a forgotten memory come alive. Your touch, oh, how he’d missed it. Nothing in the world felt quite as right as the way your hand fit perfectly in his.

He gripped your hand tightly, the warmth seeping through your damp clothes, a silent reassurance in the midst of the storm. His eyes, however, remained stormy, reflecting the inner turmoil he refused to acknowledge. As he walked you back to the car, a grange protectiveness washed over him, a stark contrast to the annoyance that still simmered beneath the surface.

He opened the car door with a flourish, a touch more dramatic than necessary. “Get in,” he mumbled, the gruffness in his voice a mask for the unexpected tenderness he felt. He gently guided you towards the passenger seat, his touch lingering just a moment too long before finally letting go.

Slipping into the car, you stole a glance at him. His jaw was clenched tight, his gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead. A tense silence, descended, broken only by the rhythmic swish of the wipers and the steady hum of the engine.

Despite the anger radiating from him, you couldn’t but feel a flicker of a warmth blossom in your chest. The entire ordeal had been frustrating, a tempestuous dance that left you both breathless and bewildered. His irritation, however, was slowly morphing into something else, a concern he couldn’t quite disguise.

The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating. Finally, you felt compelled to break it. “Thank you,” you whispered, the words barely audible over the rain.

He didn’t respond, his gaze unwavering on the road ahead. You knew he heard you, the slight twitch of his jaw a silent acknowledgement. The air crackled with unspoken tension, a tangled web of emotions caught between the two of you.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally broke the silence, his voice cold and curt. “Don’t thank me,” he muttered, his words clipped. “I just did it so you wouldn’t complain about getting sick later.”

He fell silent again, the car an isolated bubble in the storm outside. But beneath the gruff exterior, a flicker of something more complex flickered in his eyes, a secret he wouldn’t share, not yet.

“Great,” I muttered, the sarcasm dripping from my voice like the rain from the car roof. He glanced at me again in the mirror, his jaw still clenched tight. His grip on the steering wheel was a white-knuckled testament to his simmering frustration.

“You don’t even feel the least bit guilty about how stubborn you were?” He scoffed.

“And you?” I shot back, anger flashing in my eyes. He met my gaze for a fleeting moment, a flicker of confusion clouding his features.

“Me? What about my stubbornness?” He genuinely didn’t seem to understand. How could his actions be construed as anything but helpful? The unfairness of it all gnawed at him, fueling his irritation. He wanted to yell, to unleash the torrent of emotions swirling within him, but the words wouldn’t come.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please,” I drawled, the dismissiveness in my tone adding fuel to the fire.

“Don’t ’oh please’ me,” he growled, he stole another glance at me, his expression morphing into a scornful glare.

Silence descended one more, thick and suffocating. He focused on the rain-slicked road ahead.

“Then you shouldn’t have helped me,” I said, my voice laced with a bitterness that mirrored his own.

The anger he’d been struggling to contain flared up, a hot member rekindled. He let out a frustrated sigh.

“I shouldn’t have,” he conceded, the words laced it’s regret. “Now I just regret it because i was stupid enough to think you were sensible enough to realize that someone was trying just to help you…”

He refuses to look at me, the silence reminder of the tangled mess this whole ordeal had become.

“God, you’re so arrogant…” he muttered under his breath, his irritation spiking with every scoff and cold glance you threw his way. “You can’t even admit you were wrong and just stubborn as hell,” he pressed.

“Whatever,” you snapped, the frustration hanging heavily in the air. “Just get me home and that’s it.”

“Fine,” he muttered, his voice tight with barely contained anger. The car fell silent one more, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

“And, for the record…” he started after a long pause, his voice low and dangerous. He hesitated, weighting his words carefully. “I hope you catch a cold from the rain.” A childish taunt, but one laced with a deeper meaning.

“Touché..-idiot,” you countered, a sly smile playing on your lips despite your irritation. His words, though mean-spirited, held an undercurrent of concern that you couldn’t ignore.

“Shut up…” he mumbled, his annoyance flaring at your defiance. But beneath the anger, a flicker of relief sparked. He hated the way you got under his skin, the constant back and forth that drove him crazy, yet somehow, it was better than the suffocating silence.

He pulled the car to stop in front of your apartment building, the arrival a bittersweet relief. “Fine.” You spat, flinging open the car door and stepping out onto the rain-slicked sidewalk.

He watch you slam the door shut, the sound echoing through the quiet street. Part of him was glad to see you go, the tension within the car finally released. But another, deeper part, a part he refused to acknowledge, felt a pang of something akin to loneliness at your departure. He wanted to call you back, to follow you inside.

The urge to chase after you was a physical ache in his chest but his stubborn pride, a double-edged sword, wouldn’t allow him to admit defeat. He watched you walk away, your figure growing smaller in the distance, his frown deepening with each step, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. You cast one final glance over your shoulder, your eyes filled with a mixture of anger and something he couldn’t decipher, and you left him alone, alone with the storm outside.

Author’s note: Tysm to everyone who liked the first part of the story. What do you guys think about these two childish idiots? More parts to come ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Tag list: @persiar9 @mia-rrrs @ssararuffoni @kapsylia

[alphajocklover]

Hey 😈 I wish someone would help me become a massive gay bodybuilding whore. I’m already on my way gaining weight, but I wanna be gigantic. Think you could help?

So you want to become, in your own words, a massive gay bodybuilding whore. That shouldn’t be too hard. As I’ve already shown you through my other post, there are numerous ways that people can get transformed into different types of jocks. The fact you want to specifically be a slutty gay jock does complicate things a little, since certain methods would turn you straight, but it’s still pretty simple. Instajock comes to mind as a good method for example, although I’ve talked about that app quite a bit recently and would rather discuss something new. There are many ways people can transform that I haven’t mentioned in the slightest, and your question actually brings up one I’ve been wanting to talk about for a long time. Mainly the emoji you used. Yep, for this transformation we’re going to get some help from someone very special: the Devil.

When I say the devil, I don’t really mean ‘The Devil’. Don’t get me wrong, he is a devil, but he’s not the devil from the bible. He just… works for him. I know that sounds bad, and honestly it definitely is. I don’t know much about the religious side of the magical world, but I do know that the Devil, with a capital D, does exist. He might be a fallen angel who wants to turn humanity to sin like from religious text, or he might just be a very powerful magical being using human religion to boost his own reputation, but either way he definitely exists. And just like in the old folk stories, he makes deals with people in exchange for their souls. Strangely, as the stories had spread and grown more prevalent, the demand for a deal with the Devil has actually skyrocketed. You’d think a bunch of stories about how making a deal for your soul is a bad idea would discourage people, but surprisingly it’s only increased business. Because of that the Devil’s operation has grown. The Devil is powerful, but he’s not god, he isn’t omniscient. So, to keep up with demand, he began to delegate. Instead of doing one deal at a time and seeing to every deal personally, he has a large team of demons that make deals for him. That's where my friend Nick comes in.

Nick isn’t his real name, but since humans can’t really pronounce his name he just lets me call him Nick. He is one of the more powerful demons working for the Devil, and specializes in making sexually explicit deals. As you can probably guess, he deals with a lot of people and has made a lot of deals. He’s not as outright evil as you might expect though, and he was actually a close friend of my Uncle. He had a sort of soft spot for my Uncle, and would often help him out with certain things. I don’t know how they met or why my Uncle seemed to be friends with a literal demon, but they got along really well. Now that my Uncle’s gone though, he helps me instead. I think he does it a bit out of guilt. He couldn’t protect my Uncle, his favorite mortal, from being turned into a jock, so now he protects me. Because of this I like to send him a willing victim now and then, as a thank you.

So, your first instinct is probably to say no. I mean, as much as you want to be a gay jock slut, you probably don’t want to sell your soul and be doomed to an eternity in hell. The thing is, these days they usually don’t ask for your soul. The Devil long figured out that there were more subtle ways to get what he wanted, so usually the contracts ask for something else. Sometimes it’s something significant, sometimes it’s almost nothing. Whatever it is usually works into his very complicated plans somehow in a way we almost can’t comprehend, but he never asks for your soul anymore. In exchange for becoming a massive gay bodybuilder jock, all Nick would require is… your car.

Yes, the devil wants your car. You’re probably wondering why, and honestly I don’t know. It’s not even a new car, and it’s kind of lame. But that's what he wants, and in exchange he’ll give you the body and mind of your dreams. I know you’re probably pretty skeptical, and If I’m being honest there probably is some sort of catch, but-

Oh! Ok, so, you’re doing it. I was expecting a bit more resistance but you seem pretty sure. Well, I do hope it works out for you. All you have to do is write your name on the contract and the deal will be sealed. Just write your name at the bottom there… and perfect! You’ve just made a deal with a devil!

I know you feel a little confused, but give it a second, it will pass. A sudden change in your body is always disorienting, but you’ll get used to the new you pretty quickly. I mean, look at you! You’re absolutely massive! Those arms, those pecs, those shoulders! God you really got a great deal. You get to live out your fantasy life, and all you had to do was get rid of a piece of shit car. I can’t be sure why he wanted it, but my best guess was that it’s going to cause a butterfly effect where, because your car didn’t cause a traffic jam when it broke down or something, something else will never happen. But there isn’t any use in dwelling on it anymore. You’ve made the deal, so fucking enjoy it! Go out there and have hot gay sex with as many guys as you can! You made a deal with the devil, you might as well get all you can out of it!

**hey everyone! Been a little bit! I’ve been kind of distracted and busy lately but I’m still alive and kicking! Hope you guys like this story and keep tuned for more! I also wanna make clear I am not trying to offend any religious group. I just love the deal with the devil idea.**

[rowiewritesstuff]

Hi! Can I request poly hcs of yandere bayverse Optimus Prime & Megatron with fem reader. Could you possibly add some fluff? Thank you, love ur blog! 💕✨

Bayverse Poly! Yandere Optimus Prime X Reader X Megatron

A little longer than I meant, oops-

You’re Sam Witwickey’s sibling. You were more well-read than your brother, and much more polite. When Sam said that he was going to sell your great-great grandfather’s glasses, you were appalled. You immediately snatched them away from him. 

“These are antique! So are these!” You snatched other items up. “You can’t sell them, bozo!” 

“But I need the money! For the car!” Sam tried to grab them back. 

“What if I paid for a portion of it?” 

Sam halted his movements. “What?” 

You huffed. “I’ll pay for some of the car- but YOU have to make sure to give me rides sometime.”

“YES!” He coughed, “I mean, yeah. Sure. You’re my sibling, of course you’d get rides.” 

Then it happened- you met the Decepticons on the way to get the glasses fixed up. You dropped them off at the small antique shop and began your walk home.

A patrol car’s lights went off next to you, and you pulled off to the side into an alleyway. What shocked you the most, however, was when it transformed into a literal robot. You felt dizzy and collapsed to the ground unconscious.

“Frag.” Barricade muttered, pressing his servo to his helm. “Barricade to Starscream. I have the human, but they are unconscious.” 

“Bring them to me.” Starscream ordered.

Before Barricade could respond, a loud honk echoed around the alley and a semi slammed into him. Optimus quickly transformed and snatched you off the ground, handing you off to Bumblebee. “Get them to safety!” 

Bumblebee drove off with you in tow, and Sam quickly shook you awake. “Sam?” You asked. “What happened?” You suddenly remembered the giant robot that had forced you into the alleyway. “The robot-!” 

“Yeah, there’s a few of them. I’ll explain in a bit- where are the glasses?” 

“Back at the antique shop… why?”

Right after you went back to grab the glasses, you met the others. The situation was explained to you, and you were scared. You just wanted to go home and sleep. Unfortunately, as soon as you got home, people from ‘sector seven’ were there to take you away. 

You sat crying in the backseat as Sam and Mikela tried to comfort you. “It’ll be okay, (Y/N).”

“No it won’t!” Simmons said from the front seat. “Not unless you tell us what you kn-” 

The car slammed forward. Optimus ripped off the roof of the car. “Taking the children and (Y/N) was a bad move.” 

Optimus scooped you up to sit you on his shoulder, holding their weapons on the aggressors the entire time. 

When Sam and Mikela got taken, you stayed with Optimus. Once you all discovered where the allspark was, the Autobots began the journey there- you in tow. You wanted to go home, but Optimus wouldn’t let you. He said it was too dangerous to let you go back home.

During the trip, you and Optimus talked a lot. You both got to know each other really well. Despite it only being a few days, you developed a crush on him. 

During the battle, Optimus gave you and Sam an order- push the Allspark into his chest, and kill him. You shook your head as Sam moved to do as he was told. 

“NO, SAM!” You snatched it away. You looked at Megatron and brought the cube near him. 

A wicked grin appeared on his faceplates, and he held his servo out. “Good, yes, human! Bring it to me!”

A sadness painted your face. Yes, Megatron was evil- but you never wanted to take a life. “I”m sorry,” You whispered. Megatron’s face contorted in rage as you shoved the allspark into his chest. 

Before he died, he looked into your eyes. “I’ll get you for this, human!”

You never recovered from taking a life. Optimus was thankfully there for you, and you both grew extremely close. You were one of the few civilians permitted on the base, often helping out. Your official title was ‘liaison’. Even Galloway liked you. 

You were visiting Sam when the Decepticon attacked. You were all running for your lives, with you not understanding a thing of what was going on. Mikela’s car was swept up into the air by a helicopter. You were screaming loudly as it took you all away, and screamed even louder when the car was dropped through a roof and sawed into. 

Everyone stood up as Starscream spit at you. A deep voice came from behind you all. “Come here, boy.” Megatron hissed. Sam began walking towards him with his hands up. “Closer.” 

“Sam, no.” You whispered in fear. Megatron’s eyes met yours for the first time since you took his life. Your body froze as still as you could make it. 

Before you could say anything Megatron grabbed you up from where you were standing and held you in his servo. Sam yelled out your name. “SHUT UP!” Megatron yelled and slapped Sam across the room. 

“SAM!” You and Mikela shouted in fear. “Don’t hurt him! Please!” You begged. 

Megatron simply ignored you and pinned Sam down with his over servo. “It feels good to grab your flesh. I’m going to kill you. Slowly- painfully- but first, we have some delicate work to do.” Sam kept struggling as Megatron mocked him. “Ohhh, I could snap your limbs off.”

You struggled in the servo you were tightly held in. “Wait! It was me that killed you, so let him go! He didn’t do anything!”

Megatron squeezed you tighter in his grasp. “Oh, I have something much better planned for you. Now wait your turn.” You struggled to breath as the air left your lungs. Just before you passed out, he loosened his grip. It was a warning- if you weren’t quiet, he’d knock you out.

You watched in horror as a minicon send a small bug into Sam’s mouth. You had to look away in fear you’d throw up from the sight. In your mind you were hoping for Optimus to find you, to save you.

Your prayers were answered as Optimus and Bumblebee came slamming through into the building firing off shots. Megatron quickly stashed you in his subspace and began fighting Optimus. 

You were thrown around in the tight space and you hoped that Optimus would figure out you were in there. Sounds were muffled, but you could make out sounds of blasting. Soon enough, the sounds faded. The subspace opened and you were taken out into the sunlight. It took your eyes a moment to adjust, but when they did your heart stopped in your chest. 

On the ground before you was Optimus- a giant hole in his chest. He was obviously dead. You felt tears well up in your eyes as a wail left your throat.

“You’re mine now, human. Optimus will never be able to save you again.” 

Megatron took you with him to his hideout. He was originally going to use you to make Sam come out of hiding, but he soon realized why Optimus kept you around. You were smart for your race, and offered fairly good advice (even if said advice was forced out with the threat of violence). The Fallen left you alone, seeing the logic in a living hostage. 

In your short time there, Megatron had begun to grow feelings for you. He didn’t bother denying them- he was a Decepticon. If there was something he wanted, he’d take it. 

After his defeat and the Fallen’s death in Egypt, Megatron offered Optimus a deal he couldn’t pass up. 

“Why don’t we share them? Frag this war, and just hide away?” 

Optimus glared at him. “Do you really expect me to believe you?” 

Megatron chuckled. “You can either accept it, or never see them again, Prime.”

Optimus had no choice but to accept. They hid out on a small island, inhabited with nothing but animals. You were protected as long as you were with them. You also had plenty of books, food, and water. Anything you asked for, except your freedom, was given to you. 

However, at night, when everyone was resting, you were building a raft. You had a book that they gave you that had some basic instructions. When you set off, the raft was surprisingly sturdy. Your supplies were enough to last for a few days- hopefully when you would find someone to help you. 

When you heard the familiar sound of a jet, tears filled your eyes. You shouldn’t have even bothered to try. Megatron scooped you up and brought you back. When you got there, Optimus was waiting with a horrible glare on his face. 

“Where did you think you were going?” He growled. 

Tears fell before you could stop them. “I just wanted to see my family! My friends!” 

Optimus and Megatron felt a smidgen of guilt. Megatron held you closer as Optimus lifted your chin to make you look at him, a gentle smile on his faceplates. “And you will see them,” he petted your hair a little, “When you learn to behave. I can’t allow them to take you from me-”

“Us.” Megatron growled. 

Optimus glanced at him and back to you. “Us. You are ours. We won’t let you get away.”

Megatron chimed in with a sadistic grin on his faceplates. “If you ever try again, I’ll lock you away so you’ll never see the sun again. Understand?” 

All you could do is nod as a soft smile came to Optimus’ faceplates. “Good.” 

[vivwritesfics]

Hungry Like The Wolf

Chapter Six

She hadn't seen her best friend, Lando, in years. She didn't run into him the last time she was visiting her father and she doubted she'd see him this time. Things were different now. She wasn't aware of his furry little problem. Just like she wasn't aware of the vampires plaguing the town.

1.4K

Vampire!Oscar x Reader x Werewolf!Lando

Series Masterlist

Warnings: talks of smut, talks of threesome, talks of oral (male!receiving), talks of fingering

Oscar took her on several more dates. It was pretty clear that they were together, even if they hadn't said it yet. She decided she liked kissing Oscar, liked kissing him a lot. His teeth, ever so slightly sharp, always caught on her bottom lip, and she relished in the feeling.

But they hadn't slept together yet. Every time she wanted to, Oscar stopped her. "Some things are worth the wait," he said on her doorstep.

She knew she liked Oscar, knew she knew him a whole lot. They weren't at the stage of love yet, but it had only been a few weeks. They were certainly well on their way to love, though.

If she felt herself able to love this man, why was she having dreams about another?

Every night without fail, Lando was in her dreams. Either standing beneath her window, calling out to her, or leading her through the woods. Or picking her up in his car, or dancing with her under the moonlight.

It was always Lando, never Oscar. Always Lando pressing gentle kissing to her skin, Lando pushing her against the tree as his lips sucked dark marks into her neck.

Every morning when she woke up, she felt incredibly guilty that her dreams didn't contain Oscar. Why wouldn't they? He was, quite literally, the perfect man.

But then her dreams got more intense. Maybe it was because she wasn't getting laid, but dreams of Lando rolling his lips against her own, knee between her legs as he kept her pushed against a tree. Lips attached to her breast, fingers pushing through her sopping cunt. Every single dream was more intense than the last.

She had to tell Oscar. The guilt she was feeling was too much to bear.

She wasn't to know that Oscar was having similar sort of dreams. Sometimes she was there with them, the three of them out in the woods, Lando transformed and stood protectively in front of them while Oscar had her hidden behind his back. His dreams would never reveal what they were protecting her from, but the sense of dread that settled his his stomach grew with each night he had the dream.

Sometimes the dream was just him and Lando, watching her window with their hands entwined. She wasn't physically there, but Oscar knew they felt that same need to protect her.

He needed to speak to Lando, he decided.

In Oscar's one hundred year old mind, nothing feels urgent. He had all the time in the world to speak to Lando. Except he didn't, because Lando wad, unfortunately, mortal.

And, suddenly, all the time in the world turned into not enough time. Suddenly everything was a rush and he desperately needed to speak to Lando right at that very second.

But it was three in thr morning, and he had the sweetest girl sleeping on his chest.

It wasn't often Oscar stayed over at the Wolff house (oh how ironic her name was), and each time was unintentional. They'd started watching a movie from the eighties (one Oscar had seen on its original release in the theatres. God, he missed the eighties), and the way his fingers moved through her hair, lightly scratching at her scalp, had lulled her to sleep against him.

He didn't dare move. Oscar knew he could easily maneuver himself out from under her, but why would he want to? Besides, he'd been laying there for so long already, he would have missed her warmth against his own cold skin.

He knew there were wolves out there, patrolling the area for any sign of him and his kind. But, in her bedroom, he was safe. He pressed his lips to her forehead and she snuggled closer.

In all of his one hundred years of being alive, Oscar had never spent the night before. They didn't even have sex, but it was one of the best nights he'd had in a long time.

As he left her house the next morning, her still dressed in her little pyjama shorts and cartoon cat vest, and pulled him in and brought his lips down to her own. It took a lot of restraint from Oscar, not to push her back against front door and press his lips to her neck.

Now, don't get me wrong, he didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to drain her of blood and leave her corpse on the front door. No, tasting her, it was something far more intimate for a vampire than anybody could ever fathom.

"I'll see you later," he whispered, his forehead against her own.

She pressed one last peck to his lips and let her go.

As Oscar drove back home, he knew he couldn't seek Lando out again. He barely got out of there alive last time, even if Lando had kissed him back. No, Oscar knew he'd have to wait for Lando to come to him.

Maybe he knew that Lando was having similar dreams to his own, dreams of he and Oscar being a tangle of limbs while she squeezed her way between the two of them. Dreams of Lando protecting them from an invisible something. Dreams of the three of them laying together, under the canopy of trees, of getting head scratches as she laid against Oscar, her giggle permeating the air.

He had other dreams, too. Dreams of being on his knees with her, the two of them making out with Oscar's cock between their lips. But it wasn't something he wanted to delve into at this very moment.

Lando couldn't stop the way his heart reacted while he dreamed. It just... he'd never woken up feeling so happy, until the crushing realisation that it was all a dream weighed down on him.

He knew what he had to do.

It was a little embarrassing, how easy he found it to climb in through her window. No, he didn't do one almighty jump and end up in her bedroom (like a certain fictional werewolf who shall not be named) (who's name does not rhyme with Blakob Jack) (#teamjacob). No, he pulled himself up the brickwork and through her window.

"Lando, what the fuck?" Shd found herself hissing as she rushed to shut her door (yes, she was an adult. But if her dad found the likes of a shirtless Lando Norris in her room, he wouldn't have been happy).

Lando was silent as he moved towards her. She didn't move back as he towered over her. Lando wasn't the tallest guy around, yes, but the way he was looking at her, it made her feel small in a way she'd never felt before.

And then his hands were holding her head, thumbs brushing her cheek. "I have to know," he whispered before leaning in.

The feel of his lips against her own was electric. It was warm, not like kissing Oscar, who always felt as if he'd licked an ice cube. But, just like Oscar, Lando's lips were soft against her own. He pushed lightly and she held her own.

But then her hand came up and met his cheek with a rather loud crack! He hadn't felt it, but he still pulled away. "What the fuck, Lando! You know I'm seeing Ocar!" She cried.

But it had been unmissable, the way she kissed him back.

She couldn't have known that Lando was headed to Oscar's the moment he left her house. He had no trouble crossing over into Vampire territory, they were a lot less protective than werewolves. And the fact that he was going to meet with a Vampire didn't break the rules of the treaty.

He kept going, hands in his pockets and feeling entirely too human. He might not have been getting any pushback from any Vampire, but the hairs on the back of his neck were still standing up.

He came to some sort of Manor house. Oh, that was right, Mark was rich. Mark, the leader of the Vampires, was super fucking rich.

Sucking in a deep breath (one that had him cringing because the whole place smelt entirely too much of blood), he approached the door and rang the bell.

a/n: if formatting is fucked// all tags aren't working I'm sorry, I've written this on mobile and I miss my laptop so damn much

Taglist: @biancathecool

@rewmuslupin

@prettiest-at-the-party

@hellowgoodbye

@minseok-smaus

@formulaal

@darleneslane

@hiireadstuff

@urfavnoirette

@goldenharrysworld

@andydrysdalerogers

@hrts4scarr

@llando4norris

@evlkking

@lilymurphy03

@hollie911

@customsbyjcg-blog

@honethatty12

@nikfigueiredo

@not-nyasa

Series taglist (CLOSED): @cmleitora

@booksandflowrs

@evie-119

@annispamz

@neilakk

@ginsengi

@lighttsoutlewis

@charleslecler

@eviethetheatrefreak

@rbv3rstappen

@vicurious28

@val-writes

@lovecarsgoingvroom

@minmira95

@sophia12345678

@forza-dolce

@lindsayjoy444

@eclipedcherry

@ophleiahome

@cassielikereading

@styl1shl1v

@ln4norizz

[anon-sect]

As requested by @gangesqueen for a Part Two

Lial was in a sweaty prison around Trey, the team captain's waist. He could hear the team celebrate their victory on the bus ride home. He could even hear their coach joining in on the celebration. He so wanted to scream for help for the coach to convince the team captain to let him go. But as an article of clothing, he couldn't do anything but cradle the waistline of who wore him. The sweaty prison was a nightmare. He was completely saturated by Trey's sweat and started to smell like the musky odor he was attached to.

After a two hour drive back, Trey got to his car and drove home. It was then he realized the sentient underwear he was wearing. They were enjoying the celebration so much he had forgotten about the special trophy the losing team gifted them. "Sorry to say, but your old life is over, buddy. My team and I get to have all the fun with you." He gloated over his transformed underwear.

Once home, Trey decided to let his transformed underwear know just how much of an object he was. He got undressed with just only his underwear on. He went to his computer desk and put on a porn video. As the action in the video intensified, so did his dick. He stroke and stroked it through his underwear until his load spilled on the inside. The release felt so wonderful. He gained a sense of superiority as he saw the underwear front wet with hot cum. The thought that he just did that to a former human actually felt great to him.

Lial felt so disgusted at his face being rubbed around Trey's dick. Feeling the warm cum wet his face made his feelings even worse. The guy literally ejaculated in him as though he was a simple object, a simple article of clothing on his body. He no longer felt human anymore. "I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did, underwear bitch. I think I will sleep in you as well. You need to truly realize what your teammates did to you." He heard Trey laugh at him. Trey took a shower and put him back on his body, much to his disagreement.

The next day, Lial found himself turned back human again. He still smelled horrible from the musk from being Trey's underwear. He looked up at another of Trey's teammates. "I want a pair of bitch socks, Trey" Antoine spoke to his team captain. Lial thought being underwear was bad enough, but being socks on the jock's feet didn't sound pleasant. "Please, just let me go, I promise I won't say a word about what you have done to me" Lial pleaded, only to see Trey flash a light at him from his TF phone. He didn't have a chance to say another word.

Antoine picked up the Nike socks off the floor. "You have him for one day, then another person gets to play with him next." Trey spoke as he left Lial with Antoine to use as he pleased. He really was looking forward to this. He quickly slips him on his feet. It felt wonderful on feet, unlike normal socks. The former human was super comfortable to wear. Antoine decided to go on a five-mile jog for good measure on the transformed human. He didn't even get the guy's name, but that really didn't matter. He was socks now and socks don't need to have a name.

Lial saw this new experience was far worse than being wrapped around Trey's waist. Each step brought on levels of pain he never thought was possible. He mentally screamed in agony as Antoine started his jog. The pain seemed never ending. The pain wasn't the only thing he had to contend with. The sneakers he was shoved in smelled so bad, he wished he could have passed out just so that he didn't have to smell the foul stench. He mentally begged that he was having a bad nightmare and could wake up from it. After twenty minutes, he saw his nightmarish hell go from bad to worse. He was now tasting the foot sweat that was saturating his sock bodies. Being a transformed object heighted his senses 500% beyond normal. Every smell, touch and taste made his hell a place of torment. The jog seemed never ending.

Antoine returned from his jog to relax. His feet didn't hurt one bit. In fact, they have never felt better. He knew it was all due to his current socks. He wanted to thank his socks for doing such a good job. He knew one special way to do just that. He took off one sock and placed it over his dick. While watching porn, he ejaculated in it for good pleasure. With the other sock, he used that to clean his dick off. He didn't formally thank his socks, because who really speaks to their socks as though it's a person.

For the next several months, Lial was treated to being an object for each member of the team as something that person wanted him to be. He had been shoes, socks, underwear, a dildo, a condom, insoles, boots. He just wanted his nightmare to end. He was finally given back to the team captain after everyone had their fun with him. He was so hoping he would at last be free. He found himself human once again, not sure what was going to happen next.

"I give you the option, I turn you into a permanent pair of Nike Air Jordans for my feet forever, or you can suck my cock and be set free afterwards. Your choice." Trey told Lial. What Lial didn't know was that Trey had a devious plan if he chose to suck his cock.

Lial saw this as his opportunity to return back to normal life, even if that meant he had to suck the jock's sausage to get it. He quickly put Trey's dick in his mouth and started sucking it. He wasn't paying any attention to what Trey was doing above him.

Trey had the setting on the TF phone and snapped his picture. Lial vanished before him. All that was left was an extra six inches to his dick. He laughed as he realized that the guy was permanently his cock now. There was no way to reverse what he had done to him. Yet, he didn't want to reverse it. The loser was given to his team, so they got to do whatever they wanted with him. He pulled up his underwear and pants, trapping his new cock in darkness. He promised he would give the guy some action soon enough. There would be plenty who would want to suck his new dick or an ass he could be shoved in. The thought of subjecting the former human to that made him laugh

Lial realized that Trey had lied to him as he now found himself as the man's dick. His fate was sealed; his humanity was permanently gone forever. He was now the jocks sex tool for the rest of his life. He could only weep and feel contempt for his former teammates, who put him in this predicament.

[thetfer]

You, anon-sect, were going about your usual routine of going to the gym and hanging out with friends. After several hours in the hot sunshine, you decided to head home. Taking a seat on the train home, you heard the pleading cries of the transformed victims trapped on your feet. You had seriously abused them today, but they were just your socks and shoes, so you didn't care. Your feet were sweating like crazy, forcing both socks and shoes to absorb it all. As you wiggled your toes within them, you could tell the shoes didn't have long left before they were completely trashed.

Looking around the train car, you noticed a perfect target to TF into new ones just a few feet away from you. He was a muscular looking stud with a handsome face that you were dying to step on as an insole. The stud was also completely distracted by his phone, making it even easier to TF him without him even realizing that he's screwed. This made your cock very hard.

Sliding yourself up the row towards him, you subtly eyed him up, imagining how comfortable he was gonna be on your feet. You pulled out the TF device and set the program to “SHOES/PERMANENT”. After making sure no one was watching, you pulled the trigger on it and fired the device at the guy. There was a bright flash of light, and as it died down, Anon-sect, you expected to see your new shoes sitting on the seat in front of you, but somehow…someway, the muscular guy was still there, completely untouched by the transformation beam. This was more than confusing for you, you had done this so many times in the past. At this point, you had probably transformed hundreds of innocent lives, irreversibly reshaped into any object you deemed them to be. No one had ever resisted the effects of your device up till this point, it was outright impossible for this guy to still be human.

You pondered what might've gone wrong, looking over the device best you can without drawing too much attention. You were angry, no, Furious that he had survived your shot, so when he started chatting with you, it took everything in you to not blow up at him.

“Hey, did your little toy break? Aww, that sucks man…”, the guy across from you spoke up, sounding exactly like the dumb ‘Jock Bro’ he appeared to be. There was a hint of sympathy in his voice, which you had to hold your breath at to keep from laughing. You had just tried to turn him into your permanent footwear, and he was saddened by your perceived “broken toy”? It made you wonder, if you told him what you had planned on doing to him, would he apologize for failing to become your shoes? Man, this guy is such an easy target, it almost felt cruel…

“No, it's not broken. It's also not a toy, but if I told you what it really was, I'd have to, in a literal sense,  put a foot in your mouth”, you snapped back at him, smirking slightly at your own sly word play and continued trying to suss out the fault in the device.

The guy had a dumbfounded look on his face, but then he seemed to catch on to something, “Uh…ohhh, like some kind of secret project? Aw, that's pretty cool man! I've actually got my own secret project goin’, wanna see!?”, 

This guy was starting to annoy you, but not to seem suspicious, you looked up at him, faining curiously.

The guy looked overjoyed to see you interested in his so called “secret project”. He excitedly turned his phone towards you and showed you the image that was on the screen. “I snapped a pic of these awesome shoes that I want, am just waitin’ on them realizing they're supposed to be there”. Despite his obvious luke-warm IQ, it was hard not to be indeered to this guy. You were ready to write him off as a dumb meathead that would soon be imprisoned on your feet…until you actually looked at the picture on his phone. It showed a pair of white coloured High-Top sneakers, with red and black accents. You had to agree, they did look pretty awesome…however, the picture depicted the shoes on the floor of the train car, the exact same one you were in…then you realized what kind of phone this guy had…it was a TF phone.

You started to feel extremely lightheaded, your surroundings spinning rapidly around you. You looked down at your own TF device and your mistake was flashing right in your face. “Please Confirm Your Settings” was displayed on its screen. You had forgotten to press confirm, and without doing that, the device would never have fired…which meant that the bright flash of a TF beam didn't come from your device after all, but instead it came from the Muscular Jock Bro's phone!

Looking up at him in horror, you slid off your seat and landed with a thud on the floor right by the guy's nasty, beat-up gym sneakers.

“Yo, what you doin’ on the floor man…? Oh, wait! Are you tryna catch a whiff of ma feets? That's kinda weird Bro, my feet really stink, but, I guess it ain't hurtin’ no one…”, and with a confused, but friendly smile, the guy kicked off his sneakers and pressed his hot, stinky, sweat-soaked socked feet right against your face. “Oh, by the way, ma names Chad! I would ask for your name, but, I don't think shoes deserve names…”, despite retaining his air-headed bubbly himbo tone, the last line he spoke had a sinister edge to it, revealing that he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You had become completely paralyzed shortly after landing on the floor, so you could do nothing as the guy shoved his stinking,  rancid feet in your face. Was this karma…? Was the universe torturing you like this as a form of revenge on behalf of all your former victims? This was the only explanation that made sense to you. How else could you have forgotten such a simple step like press confirm on your settings, you've done that a million times! All you could do was sniff, Chad's putrid, toxic foot stink no doubt speeding up the transformation process as you felt a strange sensation in your skin.

“Uh…hey Bro!”, the guy called down to you, pretending badly to sound concerned, “you don't look so good, man…it looks like you'returnin’ whit! Are ma feets too stinky for ya!? Aw, am so sorry, Man”, his tone was dripping with sarcasm, and even worse, you could spot a very visible bulge pressing against his sweats…he was enjoying this.

His feet were so rancid,  but they were the least of your concerns. With pleading eyes, you looked up at him, begging, praying he would stop this…but the look of pleasure on his face told you that was never going to happen. As he gently stroked the sizable bulge in his pants, you felt your skin get tighter, squeezing out a few tears from your eyes…you didn't want this, you didn't want to be some guy's shoes! This guy was supposed to be your shoes!! As you felt a mix of fear and anger, your transformation seemed to accelerate, causing intense pain and discomfort as your body began to contort and reshape into its new form.

Staring down at you, the guy was now smirking, excited as he watched this happening to you. “Yo!!! Bro!!!! You're ma fuckin’ shoes now!!! Hahaha, pathetic loser!!!“, the guy eagerly watched as your horrific transformation was finalized, leaving you looking exactly like the picture on his phone.

Wasting no time, the guy pulled you onto his feet, your face instantly being squashed beneath his hot smelly foot. “Oh man, you feel so good on me, so comfortable!”, he remarked, pressing his foot down hard against your insole face.

This was Hell…not only were his feet fucking toxic, but the guy himself was a huge mound of muscle, weighing at least 400 pounds. However, your situation quickly changed from bad to worse when he pulled on the other shoe. From your experience with TFing people, you obviously knew the face became one of the insoles, but you never could figure out what formed the other insole…until now.

As Chad pulled on the other shoe, you could feel his sweaty toes sliding along your dick, before his heel settled down on top of your balls…this sensation made you want to cum so hard, but you couldn't, your cock was an insole. This orgasmic pleasure soon intensified as Chad played with the shoe on his foot, as if he knew your penis was now its insole. Pleasure turned to pain as there was no way to release the tension. 

“Oh please…please let me cum…oh god it hurts!!! Just let me cum, please god let me cum!!!”, you mentally begged, screamed and cried, but to release came. You were locked in eternal orgasm for the rest of your life!

“Oh f-fuck…”, that was the last thought you had before his full weight crushed down on your privets. You were in agony, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

As for the muscular guy, he couldn't help but admire the quality of his new shoes! They felt high end, and super comfortable. Testing them out with a stroll up and down the train car, he found that the shoes would contract around his feet with each step, almost as if the shoes were giving his feet a massage as he walked. “Man, it was awesome of you to turn into my shoes! Am gonna wear you everyday Bro, especially to the gym! You're ma new favorite pair now!”, he excitedly informed you, mercilessly wiggling his big thick toes on you.

You screamed at the thought of that. Everyday!? There was no way you could mentally survive that! You began to cry and plead, begging to be turned human again, but it never came. You would live out the rest of your existence on his feet, smelling, tasting and feeling every second of it at 10000X the insanity of a normal human. 

Chad kept his word and wore you every single day, and to torture you even further, he also never changed his sock either. Eventually, you would begin to rot on his feet, his rancid sweat dissolving your shoe bodies. First to go was your insole cock. Chad's sweat had quickly stained it a deep orange, and once that happened, the integrity of your insole cock rapidly deteriorated with searing, blinding pain. You thought your mind was going to burn up…in fact, you hoped it would…unfortunately it stayed intact, forcing you to feel you cock and balls rot away beneath Chad's foot. Next was your face, you could both smell and taste yourself rotting, but you never died. Chad simply threw you in a closet with the rest of his rotting sneakers, leaving you to your fate in pain and agony as shoes, forever!

This is a post requested by @anon-sect Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

Go check out @anon-sect and enduldge in his amazing TF stories!!

[in1-nutshell]

Hello! Can I make a request?

Like let's say a teacher called in sick and the students were allowed to leave early, but there is a problem…

Arcee, Optimus, bumblebee, and Bulkhead are away on a mission, everything was going fine until they got attacked by Decepticons.

Ratchet is at the base, but he can't leave because what if the others needed him to open a spacebridge and he wasn't there?

The only one available is Maxima, she had left the base early to go and strech her tires.

What if Team Prime had no choice but to let Maxima pick up the kids?

Just imagine faces of everyone upon seeing a freaking monster truck at school and not only that, but also seeing Miko, Jack, and Raf get into said truck!

HA! Love this concept!

Hope you enjoy!

Maxima picks up the kids from school

SFW, Platonic, Slight Familial, Cybertronian reader

TFP

There were times that Maxima hated having the alt mode she had.

One of the main things was that she could never go to town without raising too many questions.

This also limited her area in being a guardian or even a sub guardian!

She was given guardian duties only at the base.

Even Ratchet had sub guardian duties!

…But then again, he was an ambulance something less discrete than a monster truck.

So, forgive her for making a full stop when Ratchet told her that she needed to pick up the kids.

Maxima: “Ratchet, you do realize that my alt mode isn’t exactly… normal, right? Is there literally no one else?” Ratchet: “I know Maxima, but right now the rest of the team is out on a mission, and I cannot leave my post.” Maxima: “What if we traded places?” Ratchet: “Maxima this is not up for debate, besides your closer.” Maxima: “Then how am I—wait a minute, I got an idea! Just gotta make a quick stop…”

The kids had no idea what to expect today.

It was getting late and there was no side of their guardians anywhere.

Not even a single phone call!

A huge shadow suddenly engulfed the trio.

The trio were shocked to see Maxima’s alt mode in the drive.

The doors opened revealing Agent Fowler and Maxima’s holoform in the front. Fowler: “C’mon kids, it late.” The kids excitedly started climbing in when a shrill voice spoke. It was Sharon, one of the most annoying PTA parents to ever grace the schools’ halls. Infamously known for her calling… Sharon: “EXCUSE ME!” Sharon glared at the kids inside the truck. Sharon: “And wait do you kids think you’re doing?! Get down from there!” Maxima pokes her head out the window. Maxima: “Is there a problem ma’am?” Sharon glares at her: “Yes! This vehicle is not suitable for picking up children! I should report you for it!” Maxima: “I’m just picking the kids up ma’am. No harm done.” Sharon’s face turned red. Sharon: “My husband is a police officer! I can have you ARRESTED MISSY!” Agent Fowler’s head pokes out the window. Fowler: “Is there a problem ma’am.” Sharon: “There’s going to be a problem if you don’t pick these children in a suitable car!” Fowler: “Miss, this was the only vehicle avail—” Sharon: “I WILL HAVE YOU ARREST YOU BIG, FAT— ARGH!!!” Sharon pours her hot coffee on Maxima’s tires and spits on them. Maxima’s holoform winces a bit. That was going to be a pain to clean… Fowler shows her his badge: “Special Agent William Fowler to you.” Sharon quickly shuts up and quickly runs back to her car.

Maxima quickly got out of that town using every suitable backway she knew before speeding down the dusty road.

She had disabled her holoform once they all got to the base.

Thankfully the team had arrived a few minutes earlier

Maxima had opened the doors for the humans to get out.

Maxima is about to transform but Miko waves her arms. Miko: “Wait! Wait!” Maxima: “Huh? Miko?” Miko: “Just wait here! Boys cm’on!” The trio went off to one of the supply closets. Bulkhead: “What’s with that?” Maxima and Fowler: “Sharon.” Bulkhead and Arcee cringe at the name while Bumblebee whirled a bit angrily. Maxima: “Yeah… she spat and pour coffee on my rims.” Miko, Jack and Raf walk out with buckets of water, soap and drying rags. Maxima: “Umm, what’s all this for?” Raf: “Helping you clean the coffee, spit and dirty from your rims.” Maxima tries to ignore the swelling in her spark. Maxima: “Seriously its not—” Miko: “Shush! Play with the rubber duck while we clean.” Maxima chuckles a bit as Miko places the duck in her dashboard as the others got ready to clean her rims. Maybe today wasn’t such a bad day after all.

Visual representation of what Maxima wanted to do to Sharon when she saw muddy puddle near her the next day...

[halfwayhearted]

Arda Güler blurb where it’s their first date and it’s just cute fluff 💟 Thank you + ur fluff writing is adorbs xx and perhaps he’s like a hand holder so like wherever they go they hold hands or whatever! <3

Our Way To Fall — Arda Güler.

Pairing: Arda Güler x Fem!Reader

Summary: First date jitters? Well, not exactly. The moment he reached for your hand, you were already dreaming up the details of your second date together.

Word Count: 550+

Disclaimer/s — Fluff, no use of Y/N. ^_^

A/N: For my beautiful gorgeous bonk, Bea again… I love you!

You were sure you wanted to see this man again.

Perhaps you reached that joyous, yet eager realization when he first knocked on your door, holding a small bouquet of your favorite flowers, white lilies. Or maybe it was when he gazed at you with such complete and utter captivation, as if you were the only person in the world. It could have even been when he couldn’t help but shower you with compliments the entire time, making you feel truly cherished and adored.

The steps to figuring that out first started when you took the flowers from his grasp, brought them to your nose to inhale their fragrance, and looked up at him with a smile, “You didn’t have to. But these are gorgeous. Thank you.”

All the man could do was let a smile spread across his face and scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. Placing the bouquet down onto a side table, you grabbed your purse and stepped outside, closing the door behind you. That was when the first compliment came in.

“You look beautiful,” he finally stated, noticing how your smile seemed to brighten even more. There was nothing he wanted more than to see that sight all the time. He was sure of that.

Looking over at him as he opened the passenger side door for you, you replied, “Thank you. You clean up nice. Are you warm?”

Arda shrugged sheepishly, “Maybe too warm.”

With that, he got in, and the car ride to dinner transformed into something even more enjoyable. The two of you spent most of it laughing and talking animatedly about the things you liked, even loved. Every now and then, you'd catch him stealing glances at you when the car stopped at a red light. You were certain he wasn't listening—how could he be? Until he’d repeat what you had said for clarification, and it would literally send a flutter through your chest and into your heart.

That flutter only seemed to worsen when you arrived, another compliment flowing from his lips as if it was something he could do daily. It wasn’t hard to keep the conversation going at all. You’d say something, and he’d reply with something that’d spark up another conversation. As did you.

But no, it wasn’t then that you realized you wanted to see him again. It was when you walked side-by-side, half eaten ice-cream cones in hand, laughing at a joke he made. His eyes twinkled with amusement, and after your laughter faded, you found a bench to sit on. You had both been done with your cones when you felt the soft brush of his pinky against your own.

You looked down at your hands before turning to look at him. You were so caught up in staring at him that you almost missed the two words that left his mouth, “Can I?”

Biting your bottom lip ever-so-delicately, you took his hand, turned his palm up, and intertwined your fingers with his in a dance of connection.

Arda didn’t say anything. He just let out a contented hum and stared at the cars driving by.

It was in that moment you realized you wanted not only a second date, but something more, and he, with equal certainty, had felt the same.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedrilcvr ! ౨ৎ