lord-overlips - Tumblr blog

[lord-overlips]

“Hm… really now?” Overlord was half listening, more intrigued by the warm frame before him than the words from Terminus. He really didn’t have the patience for things like philosophy, though he admired those who did. Perhaps if Overlord did slow down and think for long enough about something other than his next hedonistic desire, he might learn something. Stranger things have happened before.

“Sounds interesting.” He lied, digit trailing down the other bot’s chestplates lower and lower, pausing as he grinned. “My name is Overlord. It is such a pleasure to meet you, Terminus.”

Overlord was of two minds. He enjoyed the fear and cowering from most bots when they met him but it was also pleasant to start with a fresh slate. Besides, this bot didn’t strike Overlord as the cowering type.

“And what are you up to this fine day? Simply couldn’t resist my company?” He teased. Terminus had settled down awfully close to Overlord after all. The big bot took it as an invitation to get to know the bot a little more.

Well now wasn't that quite the cavalcade of emotions? We went from irritation to intrigue, followed by flirtation?? Terminus was a bit confounded and suddenly the mech was practically in his lap. He furrowed an optic ridge, gaze falling upon the digit that danced across his plating.

"Well... to answer your myriad of questions..." he spoke as he gently set down his own data pad. "I may have a few recommendations as to reads that may pique your interest, though they're all nonfiction. The news is pertinent as it dictates our reality. There are always missing mecha and murders - the gazettes wouldn't be able to turn a profit if they only reported on pleasantries. And as for my designation, I am Terminus and flattery will get you absolutely anywhere with me," he mused coyly with a wink.

[lord-overlips]

There's a tiny little whimper from the big bot, lips parted and Overlord near panting at the lurid descriptons he's given. He rocked his hips a little harder, panting eagerly.

“Yes! Yes, please!” He cries out desperately, glossa peeking out to lap over his lips, Overlord imagining the taste, the scent. “I can be good!” He hurried to reassure Springer again, “So good for you, dearest.”

He curled his glossa, giving it a flick and shifting to part his thighs, one servo settling between them and the other raised to his lips, Overlord lapping at the digits, sucking, making a little show of it as he rutted against the servo settled between his thighs, not touching himself though, just… needy, showing off how turned on he was getting. He wanted Springer to know just how eager he was.

Drool trailed from his digits as Overlord asked oh so sweetly. “Maybe I could at least clean your servos up for you, dearest?” He let the trail of drool smear over his chest plates, reaching to smear it around with the tip of one digit, drawing little patterns there.

Pit damn but those images were delightful. Maybe if he was very good he’d earn another couple?

You are pretty pouty.

About everything.

Maybe I should send a picture of my toy selection for tonight. I was going to let you pick... but. Well. If you're too busy sulking...?

The pouting gets worse before Overlord corrects the behaviour, coughing in a thinly veiled attempt to cover his faceplates and give him a moment to compose himself.

"Uh... y-yes? Please?" He clears his intake, licking his lips and excited, revved up now, a little taken aback by the . "I'd love to see, darling. Do you have any of the Bad Predacon models?" He wiggled his brows in interest.

[lord-overlips]

Tarn was so very adorable. Overlord made sure to get plenty of recordings and images saved, quietly fawning over the bot. Getting those emotions out earlier seemed to have settled him and he was almost pleasant to be around now.

Overlord could have neatened up the cake but he thought it fitting to leave it as is. This was Tarn’s cake, the fruit of his labours. Moving to inspect the final work, Overlord then poured his spark in to his next words.

“It is simply perfect, Tarn! You have done a wonderful job, truly! We're all done for the day! You should be very proud of your achievements.”

Ah but this also meant their time was up. Tarn had what he came for. But… after that conversation earlier, Overlord was hopeful of further meetings, more recipes to try out, trust built slowly. It had been a… trying day. But also a marvellous one. He hoped Tarn would agree.

“Well then. Let me just bundle up a few things for you.” Overlord set about grabbing a few duplicates of the utensils Tarn would need, setting them in a small pile, even starting to pack up the bench mixer with a sad little smile. He really hoped Tarn would return.

Cooking classes with Overlord

Tarn grumbled a little, combat systems finally subsiding and allowing him to think with more clarity. “Err… thanks.” The tank said, taking the spatula that Overlord had handed him. He even called him by his name two times. The third one had been a ‘sweet tank’ but he guessed two out of three was an improvement.

There had also been some praise. Praise was welcomed anytime.

Scooping a similar amount of chocolate icing as he had seen Overlord take, Tarn did his best to spread it over the cake. “Hmpf.” It wasn’t easy. Most of it refused to stay on the cake, instead remaining adhered to the spatula as he pulled it back. “Frag this.” He frowned, taking a bigger amount of icing to counter the stickiness.

On his next attempt though, happened the opposite, too much icing remaining on the cake, forcing the tank to hastily spread the rest over another area with less icing.

The process continued, until almost all the icing had been -even if a bit unevenly- spread on the cake. “Eh. Close enough. I think?” Tarn looked back at the other mech, a hopeful look on his crimson optics. It didn’t look as pretty as the picture that appeared in the recipe book, but he hoped it tasted good.

[lord-overlips]

The triple changer stared, blinking a few times. Hm. He should really work on his self control, shouldn't he? He didn't realise how many questions he'd rapid fire posed to the old bot. Ah well. A shrug. He didn't care.

"Terminus..." Overlord rumbled the designation, smirking, pushing a little more since he hadn't been shooed away. Yet.

"Why don't you tell me about those data pads.... or- better yet- about you? You didn't run away. Most bots run away you see. Don't you know who I am? Or has that processor of yours begun to rust, old mech?"

He smiled broadly, nasty little quip followed up with more pawing from the big mech. Just a little teasing, a little prodding. He was sure he'd get a good reaction, already liking Terminus. He was different.

Well now wasn't that quite the cavalcade of emotions? We went from irritation to intrigue, followed by flirtation?? Terminus was a bit confounded and suddenly the mech was practically in his lap. He furrowed an optic ridge, gaze falling upon the digit that danced across his plating.

"Well... to answer your myriad of questions..." he spoke as he gently set down his own data pad. "I may have a few recommendations as to reads that may pique your interest, though they're all nonfiction. The news is pertinent as it dictates our reality. There are always missing mecha and murders - the gazettes wouldn't be able to turn a profit if they only reported on pleasantries. And as for my designation, I am Terminus and flattery will get you absolutely anywhere with me," he mused coyly with a wink.

[lord-overlips]

The praise made him shiver and squirm, something about being teased like this just making him further enamoured with Springer.

"I wasn't!" He chirped in response, blurting out the reply. Maybe he should show Springer? There's a ping sent, cameras activated again, Overlord kneeling on the berth, sitting on his pedes, servos in his lap, the very picture of obedience. For now.

"See?" He shot back with a little huff. He wasn't that pitiful! "I can be good...." Despite his words he was already wriggling minutely on the berth, charged up already and struggling to manage, especially when Springer started talking to him like that.

"Mff- I- I can... can do that- if that's what you want, sweet mech-" Maybe. He'd need to prove he could even come close to that restraint, swallowing the frustrated whine in his intake and holding... mostly still. He chewed his lip plate instead, clenched and unclenched his servos, hips rocking in tiny little motions that he couldn't control.

"What would-" There's a breathy groan from the bot. "-would you do I wonder?" Finally, a hint of that playful, teasing tone, Overlord starting to gain control of his faculties again. For now.

You are pretty pouty.

About everything.

Maybe I should send a picture of my toy selection for tonight. I was going to let you pick... but. Well. If you're too busy sulking...?

The pouting gets worse before Overlord corrects the behaviour, coughing in a thinly veiled attempt to cover his faceplates and give him a moment to compose himself.

"Uh... y-yes? Please?" He clears his intake, licking his lips and excited, revved up now, a little taken aback by the . "I'd love to see, darling. Do you have any of the Bad Predacon models?" He wiggled his brows in interest.

[lord-overlips]

Oh he's not upset he just feels like nomming, licking, smooching. Maybe Rodimus' lips would be the better choice after all though. He looses a giggle and nibbles and smooches those lips instead.

"I was just thinking about you." Is the only explanation Rodimus gets before he's dragged into that lap, lips nibbled and licked, the big bot stroking over Roddy's spoilder.

There is a gentle nibbling on his helm. Very gentle. It's a comfort thing. Rodimus didn't mind, did he?

Rodimus is going to shift. Adjusting until the nibbling is on a less delicate area. Then settles down again. Lifting a servo to gently pet the other.

There there-

[lord-overlips]

Overlord had scarcely noticed the old bot repositioning himself nearby, noting from the corner of his optic but startling at the sudden words, not realising the mech had moved so close.

"Fragger!" He wheezed out in alarm. That... that old bot had really managed to take him by surprise, Overlord dropping the data pad and fumbling for it, brushing off a few strands of grass with an annoyed huff before whirling on the bot.

"Excuse me! Do I come along and read over your shoulder, very nearly giving you a fragging spark attack! No! And also-" He squinted, thinking, considering, figuring in the end why the frag not. "-do you know any other good books?" He leaned in closer, figuring it was his turn to pester the other, see what they were reading. They surely deserved it.

"Pff... news..." He loosed a snort, not interested. "Anything interesting in there...? Any.... hm.... murders? Missing bots...? That sort of thing?" He wasn't asking for any particular reason, heavens no! He was just... making conversation! With a captive audience. This was beginning to feel more like an opportunity and less like a nuisance, Overlord no often meeting bots who don't immediately run the other way on sight.

"So...." Overlord's mood had changed abruptly, irritated, to curious to playful. "What's your name? You're actually very pretty... for an old bot." He wanted to touch, that data pad leaving him a little revved up and Overlord at least wanting some tactile feedback. He shifted closer, on servos and knees, one digit trailing over the old bot's chestplates daringly, data pad near forgotten now. Overlord had a new fixation for the moment. How long it would last, that was another question.

It was indeed a glorious day. After spending the bulk of his miserable existence underground, it was delightful to embrace the surface - specifically basking in the abundant sunshine. The park offered a pleasant alternative to the bustling streets and fast-paced lives other mecha were drowning themselves in. That has been him at one point, slaving away in order to survive. Alas, those days were gone - thank Primus.

He may have been advanced in years, but that never quelled his insatiable desire to learn. His philosophy was simple. Learn one new thing every day. Whether it be a complex algorithm or some nonsensical fun fact. One. Thing. A group of proverbial "frag-boys" had encroached on his territory with a Frisbee. Speaking of learning, shouldn't those obnoxious young prats be in some sort of learning institution?? With a huff of exasperation, he rose to his pedes in search of a new locale. There was a rather imposing looking mech in close proximity. Certainly the younglings wouldn't dare toss their horrible little plastic disk in his direction.

He sat beside Overlord, setting back to his reading until he noticed from the corner of his optic that the mech was... wriggling?? He stole a quick glance at the data pad Overlord was reading and cleared his vocalizer.

"Stockholm syndrome," he murmured as he set back to reading the news. "A condition where the captive falls in love with their oppressor. It's a common theme in erotic fiction."

[lord-overlips]

It was a glorious day, sun high in the sky but with a little cloud cover so it was neither too warm, nor too bright. Perfect weather for reading, Overlord finding some shade beneath a tree after his shopping outing and settling down.

It was nice getting out, getting some fresh air and watching the mecha dart around. If he was honest, Overlord also enjoyed giving a sly wave and a wink here and there and watching them scuttle away in terror or stare back, frozen in fear. Heh... it wasn't all bad having a reputation precede him. At least it was entertaining. The bonus of being so feared? Plenty of space. Not a single mech in the vicinity. Well... barring one old bot. Overlord just figured the mech had one pede in the grave already. He was after all quite fixated on his newspaper.

He was half way through a steamy novella about a renowned racer, kidnapped and held for sanson. The main character fell in love with his captor and plenty of questionable decision making later they were making out and getting hot and heavy. This was getting good. He buried his nose in the data pad, wriggling a little in his spot as it got closer to the good parts, secondary cooling vents clicking on before too long without Overlord even noticing.

@concedoxnulli

[lord-overlips]

Overlord wore an infuriatingly smug grin. At least Tarn hadn't been able to see that before. The triple changer just snickered in amusement as he was hauled in to the room, thoroughly entertained by Tarn's frantic needy state.

"Oh... and we had such a nice conversati-mhh-mmm...." He was cut off by Tarn's eager glossa, engine revving audibly, frame hot and field flaring in arousla. Frag. This was just what he wanted.

He let Tarn do as he wished for a time, eventually shoving the tank back, wrapping his servo around a shoulder treat and yanking the bot down to the berth.

Tarn was dragged to the side of the berth, leg struts forced apart and equipment bared. "Well..." Overlord started. "-and I thought you didn't like me...." He teased. "Seems you're a liar, Tarn. A needy, slutty little liar... just wanting to get your valve wrecked. Is that right?"

Overlord of course was calm and collected. He hadn't been tormented for the past two days.

"Say it for me, Tarn... I'm a needy little slut for you, Overlord. Go on." He was enjoying this, wanting to relish in Tarn's utter humiliation just a little longer before he gave the mech what he wanted.

"Go on... just a few pretty words for me, pet. You were so good before... you can do it once more for me, can't you?" As a little encouragement, Overlord rocked his hips forward, letting that panel slip back and the blunt, semi pressurised head of his spike nudge at Tarn's slick opening. "Tell me.... go on, pet."

Tarn had been working himself over with that spike, thrusting it deep and just leaving it there, buzzing away at his ceiling node. An irritated groan left him at the interruption. Of course he was here. That irritating, sexy, infuriatingly lewd mech had weaseled his way onto his ship somehow. He'd deal with the details later.

He clicked the spike to still, pulling it from him with a gush of lubricants staining his thighs. The door opened and he grabbed Overlord by the collar, yanking him inside and shutting the door.

"you did this to me, now frag me until I can't scream your name anymore." He growled out, pulling him into a bruising kiss, dentae nipping and biting at his lips before shoving his glossa into his mouth.

[lord-overlips]

Overlord felt the weight drag on his node and spike as that whip fell, groaning and rocking his hips back, node bruised and aching as the handle swung back and forth and managed to tug at those tender abused areas. The charge running through him was starting to fade in intensity as his frame burned and... adapted, accepting the damage. The searing burn he first felt had turned to a warm ache that made his valve drip and clench and his spike twitch eagerly.

"Nhhhh... puh- please..." He whined, searching that visor for an expression, any sign of a reaction, wilting at the order that followed. He was building up to putting himself through that revolting experience, loosing a startled cry as he was forced down in to the muck. Still, a part of him loved it, being forced, degraded, charge building in his array, heat and fluids pooling.

He extended his glossa to lap up some of the vulgar muck, regretting it instantly as a glob of organic paste hit his glossa. Overlord spat and coughed but went straight back to it once his vents had cleared enough, debris rattling around and dislodged.

Just the tip of his glossa darted out at first, lapping shallow little trails through the filth. He groaned in pleasure as he felt his own spilled energon dribble down his intake, the bitter taste of gritty earth overwhelming the sweet taste of energon. It was unavoidable. He chanced a look up at Vortex, distantly hoping the mech had changed his mind and was holding an energon cube for him. No? No.... of course not...

With a whimper, the big bot went back to keeping himself alive, whining every so often, slurping and lapping up the filthy puddle below.

Vortex released the whip’s handle to leave it to swing freely between Overlord’s thighs as the other shakily changed position to obey him.

Energon, as in cubed and formulated suitably for consumption. Right, that would be a decent idea. Vortex actually had a cube or two on his person as well, now that he thought about it. He stared down at Overlord’s smeared, panting face through his bright, back lit visor, functionally unreadable, then distinctly shook his head.

“Drink.” The Combaticon repeated, with just an edge of annoyance about it. He lifted one pede and placed it firmly on the top of Overlord’s helm, then shoved him downward toward the pool of bright, bled fuel and its many recent additives.

He already had a plan as to how he wanted to spike the other mech, and it didn’t involve giving Overlord such a tantalizing opportunity to remove his spike from its housing in so many bites. That was what he would have done probably in Overlord’s role, anyway. There was a quiet click and slide of undamaged and decently oiled armor as Vortex released his spike to rest, almost fully pressurized, across his palm—stained still with Overlord’s life fluid and valve drippings. He stroked himself thoughtfully.

[lord-overlips]

Overlord flitted between the options, moaning aloud as he imagined Springer enjoying any of the three.

"Mfff- can I- one day maybe..." No. Stupid. Springer would have asked him if he wanted him there. Overlord loosed a quiet whine nonetheless as he struggled to choose, images of Springer spread out on the berth not making things any easier on him.

"Uh- two? No... no, one! One?" Was he really allowed to choose? "Do I get to watch...? Even a picture...?" He was absolutely pouting again.

You are pretty pouty.

About everything.

Maybe I should send a picture of my toy selection for tonight. I was going to let you pick... but. Well. If you're too busy sulking...?

The pouting gets worse before Overlord corrects the behaviour, coughing in a thinly veiled attempt to cover his faceplates and give him a moment to compose himself.

"Uh... y-yes? Please?" He clears his intake, licking his lips and excited, revved up now, a little taken aback by the . "I'd love to see, darling. Do you have any of the Bad Predacon models?" He wiggled his brows in interest.

[lord-overlips]

There's a gleeful chuckle over the comm. Overlord had thought something like this might happen. Tarn had gotten more and more turned on, needy, more open to his advances. Anonmity removed those pesky preconceptions Tarn had, Overlord supposed. He'd been waiting, tracking their ship, narrowing down the co-ordinates so that he could bridge in without alerting the others. Finally, he was at Tarn's door.

"My pet... would you like to let me in? I'd rather not wake the others and cause a scene, especially with you... well.... I can hear you. I can only imagine what you look like. Unless you'd prefer I sound the alarm and show everyone what a state you're in? It's up to you, my sweet."

@symphonicdemise

[lord-overlips]

I do think your lips look pretty when you're pouting. Although I do think they're just as pretty when you whisper filth in my audial and bend me over your knee. Though we both know you like using those lips to worship my spikes.

There's a delighted shiver from Overlord. His sun and stars, so beautiful, so warm and welcoming, understanding of Overlord. Of course Redstrike was there to reassure him.

He snatched the smaller mech by the waist and dragged him back, Redstrike perched on Overlord's knee and the big mech pressing a kiss to that cheek. "You're too sweet to me, darling."

Carefully, Overlord wrapped both arms around the smaller bot, just holding Redstrike, grateful for his presence, his warmth.

[lord-overlips]

Then go ask her! Prove you're not a bottom.

"I just.... don't feel like it right now. I could if I wanted to. I just don't want to."

[lord-overlips]

You are pretty pouty.

About everything.

Maybe I should send a picture of my toy selection for tonight. I was going to let you pick... but. Well. If you're too busy sulking...?

The pouting gets worse before Overlord corrects the behaviour, coughing in a thinly veiled attempt to cover his faceplates and give him a moment to compose himself.

"Uh... y-yes? Please?" He clears his intake, licking his lips and excited, revved up now, a little taken aback by the . "I'd love to see, darling. Do you have any of the Bad Predacon models?" He wiggled his brows in interest.

[lord-overlips]

Overlord you get pouty like the most bottom person possible whenever the human you have caged in your berthroom expresses the very reasonable fact that they do not like you.

"....."

"Do not."

He is very mature.

[lord-overlips]

-points to the one Tarn thread where Tarn is getting very hot and bothered-

See! Look! Overlord is not a bottom bitch 100% of the time time! Only most of the time. :3