#（ cooin ）

[gengernoway]

˗ˏˋ autismaxxed ´ˎ˗ [pt: autismaxxing end of pt] — a gender for when your gender is autismpilled and autismaxxed !!! when you're autismaxxing !!! !!! —

˗ˏˋ crittermaxxed ´ˎ˗ [pt: crittermaxxing end of pt] — a gender for when your gender is critterpilled and crittermaxxing —

˗ˏˋ sillymaxxed ´ˎ˗ [pt: sillymaxxing end of pt] — a gender for when your gender is sillypilled!!! and sillymaxxing!!! —

— COINED BY ROACH —REQUESTED BY: the INHERENT need to sillymax —TAG : @gengernoway @radiomogai @rabidbatboy (creator of the gendermaxxed system, which is awesome btw)

[pt: coined by roach end of pt] [pt: requested by: the inherent need to sillymax] [pt: tag : @gengernoway @radiomogai @rabidbatboy (creator of the gendermaxxed system, which is awesome btw)]

[ID: a drawing of a grey simplified cockroach drawing with closed eyes and a speech bubble with text in it saying "READ OUR DNI. . ." end of id]

sillymaxxing flag colors based off of this flag!!! (link) the gendermaxxed system was made by @\rabidbatboy !!!

[spotsupstuff]

[ERROR REPORT] INVALID ITERATION

(INVALID ITERATION SUBMITTER) : INSPECTOR 04

[ITERATION CONTENTS]

Top 3 iterator technicians of all time

1: Three Sparrows on a Wire

2: Three Sparrows on a Wire

3: Three Sparrows on a Wire

Notes: <3

[ERROR LOG]

01: repeated variables used

02: non objective evidence cited

03: internal bias detected

[log automatically sent to technician for review]

Response: what's with this sloppy job? bias? an inspector submitting an iteration? come on, little sunshine. back to proper work you go.

Notes: love u. thank u.

[clannfearrunt]

my talking to animals voice is so high pitched it's sometimes even like a fuckign full octave above my more typical voice and i kind of hate it. I know a lot of people do this but I hate it coming out of my mouth. also i keep scaring my coworker with it because it is so much higher than my normal speaking voice (that part's fine that's funny)

[zealouselement]

You've heard about Hugin and Munin, but did you know about the other two? Sugin and Fugin?

[tyler-reed-is-superman]

Me just sitting on my floor chilling: 😌

Me glancing out my window randomly and subsequently startling my own self with my voice: 😲 thAT IS A BIG BIRD

CHONK

[dabisbratz]

This is so random too but like who would make the tips your dicks touch together and and say some dumb shit like “look our dicks are kissing”?😗

And he pulls away and there’s just a string of clear pre attached-

this is so satoru. so satoru !! n bokuto coded !!! their strange sense of humor ends up bein kinda hot :O frottin with your hands wrapped around both your cocks n them tellin you ycant let go, ycant loosen your grip, laughin in your face when ywhine cause there’s so much friction n stickiness n s’so much?? cooin n deathly serious when they go “look at that, our dicks are kissing !!” n ycant even laugh or groan cause your breath is stuck in your throatkehdudgdgd

somethin tells me they’d split the string on their fingers n suck it off too !!

[books-and-catears]

9 days of Solomon: Humanity

TW: Angst, death and slight self harm mention, Hurt/Comfort

"The Human Exchange students who have stolen many Devildom hearts" - the title of the magazine on Solomon's table. He stared lovingly, at the front page where you both posed for a picture, smiling at each other, your arms linked.

Your humanity - that was the one thing that he had sole knowledge of. He walked over to the window, watching you bid goodbye to the brothers who had come to visit Coccytus Hall.

He watches your tense shoulders relax, letting out a sigh of relief, the moment they were out of sight. The smile plastered on your face faltered as you walked into the house.

No more pretense. Now that it was only you and him again. He waited for you in the living room, opening his arms for you. You crashed into him without hesitation, breathing deeply.

"That must have been tiring?" He whispered, stroking your hair.

"Very much." You mumbled.

"Lets have an early dinner and head to bed."

"Solomon...can I sleep with you tonight again?"

"You know my answer will always be yes, MC."

It was going to be one of those nights again. You trembling and sobbing quietly, squeezing his hand with both of yours - after you thought he had fallen asleep.

He remembered the first time you did this, the sinking feeling in his chest, the searing rage in tightened fists, the devastation of seeing his bright and adorable apprentice in such pain.

You were definitely drunk from the human world cocktails you had downed in the bar. Else you would have never opened up.

"Solomon, I wish I could give you my pacts. I don't want them...I don't want anything to do with them... you're so lucky you got to live with the angels...Why couldn't Diavolo send me to Purgatory hall with you...I would have been so happy...I'm so tired of pretending it doesn't hurt..."

You were not happy at HOL with the brothers. That was the first truth bomb of many.

"I cannot stop having nightmares... I'm just a little human stuck among thousand year old celestials and demons...why am I here...I'm just a normal human... I'm *hic*...I'm so small...so insignificant...I just wanted a normal life...why am I here...why...can't I go back to normal..."

Solomon swallowed the growing lump in his throat. The way you smiled so brightly through everything, he forgot what an immense burden this would be for a normal human, how overwhelming all of this must have been for you.

"Noone here actually wants me... they're being nice to me for her...for Lilith...she's been gone for so long...and yet she is so loved...she's so lucky to be so loved...I wish..I really wish I could have that too..."

I do, MC. I love you. I love you for just you. He wanted to hold you tight and keep telling this to you. But he couldn't say it, not until you had let everything out.

"You know when I was dying...all I wanted to say a few goodbyes...I wanted to hug some people I loved...wanted to make some apologies...wanted to say a few thank yous... especially to you...But he didn't let me...he didn't let me...he made it so long and painful...why couldn't he have atleast made it quick...I wouldn't have fought to live if he just told me..."

Guilt pounded at his aching heart. He should have been there. He should have saved you.

"I'm so tired of the lies...Solomon, promise me if you run out of kindness for me one day...if you no longer want me around...please just tell me...I won't mind at all...I will do away with myself peacefully...I will cut off the pacts off my skin and give them to you if you'd like... please don't hurt me like he did...please, I just need one person to hold... without feeling afraid...please be on my side..."

Tears gathered at the corners of Solomon's eyes. When was the last time something has brought him to tears like this? He squeezed the hand you had placed in his.

You cried into his chest again tonight, silently this time. He already knew everything after all. But this time he held you tight, cooing reassurance in your ear, pressing urgent kisses on your head.

"You mean the world to me, MC. I will never hurt you. I don't need anything else...I just want you to be okay. I only want to protect you."

Your sobs were gentle now, softer, as you nuzzled deeper into his loving embrace. "Thank you...Thank you, Solomon."

"I love you, MC." The last thing he whispers just as you fall asleep, barely catching it.

You already knew more about him than anyone else. Noone quite fussed over his health and well-being as much as you. His immortality never made him less human to you. And for that he was eternally grateful.

Though the most of the humanity he vowed to protect didn't accept him - if it included you, he would happily die trying to protect it.

[sergeant-norman-allen]

sir. there is a weird cryptid rummaging through my trash outside and they look fairly hostile what do i do please help btw i love you /p

Toss any kinda past-expired meat at it and make soothin’ cooin’ sounds. It’ll either respond like a wild beast n’ leave ya be, or it’ll stand on two legs n’ ask ya what yer doin’ like a person might. Best o’ luck.

[coneyislandbabey]

the pick-me-up. -> w.rojas

WARNINGS: me possibly butchering some spanish (sorry guys I only speak English and Italian)

SYNOPSIS: Life has been wearing you and Warren down lately, but Mariposa saying her first word really brings up your spirits word count: 1,138

NOTES: Written for this request! Part of the mariposaverse, other related fics can be found on my masterlist.

You and Warren were exhausted. 

After nearly a year of raising your daughter, Mariposa, in the falling-apart house that several of your other bandmates also lived in, the two of you had finally found a house of your own. It was perfect, all warm wood and huge windows and a beautiful backyard brimming with greenery, and only a few streets away from the old house. You were so wrapped up in the euphoria of starting this new chapter of your lives, that you forgot what absolute hell moving could be. 

And absolute hell it was. Unpacking was proving to be a very slow process, considering that you both were at the studio so often recording an album. Tonight, the two of you were sitting on the floor of the living room, eating Chinese takeout on the coffee table while surrounded by yet-to-be unpacked cardboard boxes. The news was playing on the television but the sound was turned off, reducing the whole thing to meaningless talking heads and cuts to the occasional photo or video. Mariposa was in her highchair nearby, playing with her mashed banana more than she was eating it. 

“Looking at these boxes is making me want to die,” Warren announced sullenly around a bite of fried rice. You knew exactly how he felt, because you felt the same way. Unpacking all the boxes seemed like a monumental, insurmountable task. 

“Maybe we should forget about unpacking them and just live with them?” you proposed.

Warren nodded sagely. “A new kind of decor, I like it.”

“Exactly,” you said, pointing your fork at him. “You get me.” 

He laughed, but even that sounded weary. You took in the dark circles under his eyes and the tenseness of his muscles, knowing you looked the same. The last few weeks had been filled with hard, long days and barely any sleep. The worst part of it all was that you had hardly had time for each other, or even for Mariposa. It had you both feeling desperate and dejected, and you knew if something didn’t change soon, something was going to snap. 

Behind you, Mariposa began babbling and smacking her hands on the tray of her highchair, signaling that she had gotten bored even of playing with her food. Sighing, you stood up and went to the kitchen wetting some paper towels so that you could clean her face and hands before setting her free. 

“Okay, you, time to get ready for bed,” you cooed at her, gently grasping her wrist so you could clean her hand. Behind you, Warren stood up and began tidying after your dinner mess. Once clean, you lifted Mariposa and cradled her close to you, reveling in just having her in your arms for a moment. 

You turned around to ask Warren if he needed any help cleaning before you took Mariposa to bed, but the baby in question interrupted you before you could speak. She lifted her chubby little arm towards Warren, making grabby hands at him. 

“Papá!” She said, and you and Warren both froze. 

“Did she just–?” he asked. 

In response, she wriggled in your arms and said again, “Papá!” 

Warren dropped the empty carton in his hand, his eyes widening.

“Oh my god, she just said her first word!” You squealed, looking down at the little girl in your arms in wonder. She was still making grabby hands at Warren, and he nearly tripped over the coffee table in his haste to get to her and pull her into his arms. 

“I was her first word!” He shouted, a brilliant grin spreading across his face. He laughed, a sound of pure joy, and leaned over to smother her face in dozens of kisses. “¡¡Sí, soy tu papá!!” 

Mariposa giggled, Warren’s mustache tickling her face, and you couldn’t help but laugh with her, overwhelmed by pride and excitement and love. Warren was cooing at Mariposa in Spanish, his voice so saccharine and full of affection, intermittently pressing a kiss to her chubby cheeks or into her curls. 

He looked up at you, his eyes bright, more awake than you had seen him in weeks. “Baby, she said papá!” 

“I know!” You shouted, possibly sounding even more excited than him. Mariposa was his whole world, she had been since the very minute you had told him you were pregnant, and you knew how much it meant to him that her first word was his name. 

Warren reached toward you with the hand that wasn’t holding Mariposa, hooking one long finger through one of your belt loops and tugging you toward him. You laughed as you stumbled into his chest, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pressed kisses into your cheek the way he had been doing to Mariposa a few moments earlier. 

“My girls,” he mumbled, holding both of you to him as close as he could. 

“Can you say papá again, baby?” you asked, tickling the bottom of Mariposa’s foot, but all she produced were more incoherent babbles. 

“No, no, it’s time to rest that little genius brain. I bet she’ll say papá and mamá tomorrow,” Warren said. Your dinner mess was forgotten as the two of you walked down the hall to Mariposa’s nursery, getting her ready for bed together like you did every night. 

Once she was in her crib, heavy eyelids dozing off toward sleep, the two of you crept back out into the hall, closing the door behind you. As it clicked closed, Warren wound his arms around you, head resting on your shoulder. You turned around in his arms, taking his face in your hands, thumbs rubbing circles on his cheeks. 

“Guess we know who’s Mari’s favorite,” you whispered, beaming at him. 

“No way,” Warren said seriously, “I’ve just been coaching her on how to say papá about a hundred times a day since she was born.”

You stifled a laugh at that, shaking your head. “She loves you so, so much, Warren. I love you so, so much. I love getting to watch you be such an amazing father for her.”

Warren’s eyes softened, his goofy grin sliding into something more serious at your words. “I’m only as good as I am because I have you by my side, you know that, right? You’re our glue, I’d be a mess without you. Even if things had been different, even if we never became parents together, I would be a mess without you.”

“I am way too tired and emotional for you to be saying things like that right now,” you joked with a watery laugh. “I love you, Warren. I’m so happy I get to be your glue.” 

“I love you, too, mama,” he said, the grin returning to his face as he closed the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours. 

tag list: @eonnyx @xleiaorgana

[actualbampot]

Anxiety

For all you neurospicy folk that are struggling this Christmas. Have my anxiety baby, because I needed to write anything to distract me from panic-vomiting all over the train I was on.

TW: Anxious Disorder, Panic Attack

Pairing: Ruby Rose/Cinder Fall

-

“What is the matter with you?”

“Nothing.” Ruby said too quickly. Cinder looked even more unconvinced, watching her carefully. Ruby felt herself heating up and not in any way nice, a sickly flush of color from her cheeks making everything feel stifling and clammy.

“I'm fine,” she breathed a little hard, and whatever else Cinder noticed had the woman on her feet immediately. It wasn't until Cinder had taken one of her hands did Ruby realize how much it was trembling. 

Much to her surprise, Cinder guided her to the seat she'd just occupied, still warm with the heat of her body.

“Far from it, I think.” Cinder touched her face, thumb sliding over clammy skin. The repetition of the movement was oddly grounding, distracting Ruby away from the dread and dizziness making her feel nauseous, if only for a moment. “You're quite pale.”

“Yea,” Ruby gasped the word like she'd been holding it in her chest, but it was all she could manage when the tremble in her hands didn't let up, referring up over her shoulders, into her chest. All she could think about.

“Look at me, darling.” She managed to, only with the caress of Cinder's hand guiding her. She wasn't annoyed, or impatient, the creases on her brow of concern. “Don't think, just breathe.”

“I'm trying,” Ruby hiccuped, but it was getting so hard, until she couldn't stop thinking about how she *couldn't* breathe right and it was making her panic-

Cinder took one of her hands, guiding it to rest on her own chest, fingertips touching her clavicle and sweaty palm resting right over her heartbeat. It was true and steady, and Ruby could swear she felt heat swell on each of Cinders deep inhales.

Her hand was held there, cheek still cradled and before long Ruby was following the rise and fall of Cinder's breast, breathing together with her. She screwed her eyes tight, shutting out any distractions and focusing on that simple binary.

“You're alright, dear. Nǐ hěn ānquán.”

“Could- Can you-” Ruby started, but it was hard to sort her thoughts, to figure out how to ask with any eloquence. In the end she could only manage to blurt the request: “Could you keep talking like that to me? In Mistralian?”

The repetition, the constant of unchanging movement between Cinder's chest and stroking thumb kept Ruby balanced on a thin wire, where any deviation might tip her. She needed to hear the soft, cooing drawl of Cinder's voice, even though Ruby couldn't focus on the words. 

Watching how much Ruby struggled, the older woman did not wish to burden her any further. 

“Zhè shì zhànshí de,” Phrases melding together in sound, the highs and lows of Cinder's voice never broke a warm whisper, “Huì guòqù de.”

They remained like that long enough for Cinder to shift out of a kneel, onto both of her knees in front of Ruby. For her, the nausea and hot flushes were incessant, as was the effort to swallow down each one until she was quietly begging for reprieve. 

There was no magic cure, no pill Ruby could take that would ease the vicious dread and churning nausea making her convulse.

Minutes dragged into hours, moments of progress upsurged by the panicked need to dry wretch in Cinder's bathroom. After half a dozen trips of guiding a Ruby too exhausted and fragile to navigate there herself, the older woman allowed them to slip to the bathroom floor, sparing the younger woman from the sting of cold tile and pulling her weight into her lap. In doing so, her caress never left Ruby's face, just as Ruby's hand clung to Cinder's chest all-the-more desperate. 

“It won't go away.” Ruby whimpered as she tipped bonelessly into Cinder's body, burying her face into the side of the woman's neck. “Just want it to stop.”

“Wǒ zhīdào, but it will,” came Cinder's soft, lilted whisper, cooing quietly, "I’ve got you.”

[castelia-pidove]

there was a whole flock of pidove in my room when i woke up today... sittin all over my bed and cooin at me. i haven't been goin outside much, so i guess they've missed me. i think Betty brought em some berries. or maybe i'd just left them in my room before. i can't remember

i'm happy they're here

[gengernoway]

˗ˏˋ queercanillial ´ˎ˗ [pt: queercanillial end of pt] — A type of queerplatonic attraction that's connected to cannibalistic urges, such as wanting to eat the person or be eaten by the person you feel queerplatonic attraction to. —

— COINED BY ROACH —REQUESTED BY: ME!!! !!! —TAG : @gengernoway @webby-mogai

[pt: coined by roach end of pt] [pt: requested by: me !!! !!!] [pt: tag : @gengernoway @webby-mogai]

[ID: a drawing of a grey simplified cockroach drawing with closed eyes and a speech bubble with text in it saying "READ OUR DNI. . ." end of id]

the attraction type template thang was made by webby!!! whos blog i already tagged up there, credits to them!!!! oh also original canillial attraction which was big inspo for this also by webby-mogai

[risfics]

jason havin a friction burn on his thighs from how reader likes rub their pussy up n down them until their ears are ringin and they're shakin, cummin all over him, groaning and letting out barely understandable profanities while he's just cooin sayin "oh my sweet angel", "baby boy i know how much u love this", "shh, shh it's okay, sweetie pie" hbgngmgng

[sweatforged]

@victorywithremy cont. x

"i  know,  he  ain't  fuckin'  home."  wouldn't  be  the  first  time  he  got  himself  patched  up  by  atticus,  although  definitely  the  first  time  he'd  came  to  find  him  in  the  athena  cabin.  he  found  it  empty  (of  atticus  at  least),  which  -  sure,  made  sense  he  wouldn't  always  be  there,  but  ...  goddamnit.  he  was  bleeding  up  a  damn  storm  &  couldn't  find  a  damn  healer  anywhere.  the  next  best  cabin  had  been  randomly  chosen  in  the  hopes  of  not  bleeding  out  on  a  dirt  road  connecting  them  all.

  looked  like  he  was  going  to  be  okay.  nice  choice.  it  truly  was.  unlike  his  own  cabin,  this  one  spoke  from  victories  past  &  probably  held  history  silas  should  try  to  get  acquainted  with.  should.  he  ..  didn't  plan  to,  not  until  it  bit  him  in  the  ass.  others  could  deal  with  that  shit.  he'd  keep  doing  the  punching.  well,  the  bleeding  too,  obviously.  "wouldn't  be  here  if  i  didn't  trust."  well,  uh...  not  quite  true,  but  he  trusted  now. 

  he  flopped  down  on  the  next  best  chair  inside,  watching  the  other  fetch  the  first  aid  kit,  which  ..in  hindsight,  he  could've  brought  his  own  on  the  way  here.  meh.  "hah,  nobody's  cooin'  at  me.  but  thanks  for the compliment. you think i look strong, huh?"  soft  chuckle,  a  quick  side-glance. gods, was that the blood loss talking?  "'s  leftovers  from  fightin'  lions.  that  one  didn't  wanna  heal  an'  festered.  took  care  of  it,  but  .."  he  glanced  away,  clearly  not  very  proud  of  what  came  next.  "underestimated  how  much  it'd  bleed, i guess."  the  pain  hadn't  been  the  issue  really.  pain  could  be  endured.  bleeding  all  over  the  kratos  cabin...  not  ideal. 

[anon-e-miss]

White Lies

“Uhn,” Prowl grunted as his face was pressed into the rock. There was no sound on the empty highway except for the filthy, wet clangs of the Decepticon’s array when it struck the Autobot’s aft.

Strong servos with clawed digits reached under his hood and squeezed Prowl’s wells. They expertly pinched and rolled Prowl’s nozzles as the tactician moaned under the assault. He should have known it was a trap. The sighting had not been Casseticons but well disguised drones, a lure to draw Prowl out as he drove his patrol. Meister groaned against Prowl’s doorwings, gleeful lust poured from his field as he pulled his spike from Prowl’s fluttering valve with a loud squelch before driving it back into the depths of Prowl’s frame.

It had been a long time since the Decepticon had caught him, less because Prowl had been wise to his tricks and more because the work of an officer largely kept Prowl on the Arc and away from Meister’s games. Too long, maybe because Prowl had never been so easily bested, maybe Prowl had gotten too comfortable. His own claws scraped against the dirt as Meister released his wells and seized his hips as he reared up. He rode Prowl’s aft with a cocky smirk, making a show of how deep his spike could drive. It felt bigger, longer than it had in the past but it had been a long time since the Decepticon had gotten Prowl under his claws.

“Cum for me, Copbot,” Meister ordered. He punched his spike deep as he pulled Prowl’s aft back, forcing a cry from the Autobot’s vocalizer. “I know y’re holdin’ back.”

Prowl ultimately could not help but obey, not with the way the Decepticon’s girth filled him so well. It was not even that Meister’s spike was obscenely large but the Decepticon new how to use every micrometer of spike to better destroy his prey. The tactician’s wells bounced against his open hood as the Decepticon operative rutted against his aft. His whole frame trembled as he overloaded and as his valve contracted around the saboteur’s spike, Prowl felt the Decepticon’s transfluids fill his gestational tank. Prowl’s faceplates flushed a darker scarlet.

How was Prowl going to explain the scuffs? Though Meister stripping off his armour would have been Prowl’s undoing, all the paint transfers, all the dirt, would be hard to explain. Meister had him on his back down, legs hooked under his arms as he sank his spike into Prowl’s throbbing core. Prowl clawed at the ground as he was fragged across the ground, the paint on his doorwings flaking off against abrasive stones. Meister leaned forward and squeezed one of Prowl’s wells under his hood as he ground their arrays together. Prowl squeaked and mewled as his node was crushed between them. His optics rolled back in his helm as he overloaded again.

“That’s it,” Meister groaned. “Ain’t so stoic wit my cock in ya, are ya HotCop? Y’re so sweet cooin’ for me.”

“Slagtard,” Prowl growled, voice too high to be threatening as the Decepticon did not relent and drove him towards overload once more.

“Think I can’t feel how much you love it?” Meister asked, pressing deep, holding himself there as he smirked down at Prowl. “Ya can’t help milkin’ my spike. If I didn’t know better, I’d think ya wanted a Con bastard in yer belly.”

Meister only laughed when Prowl sputtered. He pinned Prowl on his back as he braced himself on the tips of his peds as he thrust into Prowl’s drooling centre. It was unfair what an affect the Decepticon had on Prowl, how much better he was with his spike than anybot Prowl had ever had. If even a modicum of Meister’s arrogance had been misplaced, Prowl might have been able to resist. But Meister was well deserving of his arrogance and he stole squeals of shocked ecstasy from Prowl as he pressed him into the ground and drilled his spike so relentlessly deep.

“That’s how ya fuck the police,” Meister said as he brushed a bead of drool from Prowl’s chin. The SIC was exhausted and achy from overuse. It did not seem like the joors… hours of interface had put a tent in the Decepticons energy reserves, despite the fact that he had done all of the work. Prowl glared at him. “Better drag yerself up ‘n get back to base. Y’re patrol’s endin’ soon.”

The damnable Decepticon left Prowl lying in the dirt. It took a bream before Prowl could gather himself up, to wipe the mess of fluids from his plating. He would blame the scratches on the dirt and the dirt on some offroading, if anyone noticed to ask. Though his valve was throbbing, bruised and tender from the rough frag, Prowl forced his legs together and transformed. Even in his altmode, Prowl’s armour felt tight. It would not be so much longer now before he would be unable to transform. Still, Prowl was not prepared yet to consider the ramifications.

Teletraan 1 approved Prowl’s entrance into the Arc. He did not drive past a single spark as he made his way into the Autobot’s base. Taking advantage, Prowl made his way to the washracks and locked the door. Whoever had used the shower last liked tepid solvent, Prowl liked it molten hot. After adjusting the temperature, Prowl stepped under the spray and began to scrub his plating. Even as his armour washed clean, Prowl could still feel sand itching his protoform and he stripped off his armour to better access the stray dirt. His legs felt week as Prowl cupped his lower belly as it had rounded out with the enormity of Meister’s spend. He ran his servo up as that bulge melted to the greater swell of his forge as it jutted so far now that it was free of his constricting armour.

He should not have been so far along but the radiation of the Earth’s sun was different than that of the star Cybertron had orbited and where Prowl’s belly should have been mostly flat at this stage, he looked like he was close to term. Maybe he was. Prowl shook his helm in stubborn denial. He needed time yet to come up with an explanation, an excuse. There was no way he could tell Optimus Prime he had been sparked up by the most infamous Decepticon under Megatron’s command and there was no departed lover he might pin it on. Unless, he lied, though Prowl was not especially adept at lying. If he kept the information vague… maybe…  what other choice did he have?

[dabisbratz]

I wanna suck Shota's cock so fucking bad.

Like, please let me ogle at how big it is and drool all over it. I just wanna whore myself on shota's cock so so bad.. 🫠

EEE !! he’d give a lil crooked smile when your eyes widen at the size of it n make you pepper kisses up his shaft, tellin you he’s not sure it’ll fit down your throat cause sjus so big !! even though (f’he’s bein real) he knows sluts like you like gaggin for it, like the challenge n the stretch n the way he leaks all over you n gets you soso messy !!

cockwarmin with your mouth is soso underrated :c keepin him warm while he’s down your throat n droolin all over his balls while your eyes flutter closed.. would imagine spretty hard to deepthroat him so !! ycan keep your hand wrapped around the base until it starts t’slip cause the more time goes by the dumber yget,, ໒꒰ྀི𖦹̀ ˬ 𖦹꒱ྀི১ sho cooin at you cause you’re doin so well!! you’re so good when you’re his brainless whore !! occasionally giving sharp thrusts down your tight throat t’hear you gurgle n gag— so ycan stay awake n attentive on his dick!! he gets pretty impatient though.. after a good fifteen minutes he’s probably instructin you on how t’skullfuck yourself.. it’s cuter when y’fumble n struggle over n over but stay so desperate n needy !!