#I NEED SQUISHY HIS WIRES

[carnivoreofthesea]

mrow forgot to post this yesterday

[pinkanonwrites]

"Oh! That's What That Does?!"

All art by @archie-sunshine

G1 Rumble/ Mechanic Reader - 2400+ Words NSFW, Valveplug, Plug 'N Play, Mild Sparkplay, Accidental Stimulation, Edging, Human Reader, GN Pronouns

Ahh, the inherent eroticism of repairing your machine.~ I've had this one cooking for a while, so I hope you all enjoy! I've also gotten pretty attached to this mechanic Reader, so they'll likely pop up again with other cassettes (and maybe even some other Decepticons!)

NSFW WRITING AND IMAGERY BELOW THE CUT!

“Ey… EY! Careful wit’ dat! It’s touchy!”

“Rumble,” You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You're making this way more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I wouldn't be complainin’ if you'd stop touchin’ all up on bits that don't gotta be touched! Rootin’ around in there like I'm one’a your crappy organic machines!”

Removing your hands from Rumble’s open chest, you tossed them roughly into the air. “Y'know what? Fine. Do it yourself. Better yet, get Frenzy to pull the shrapnel out of your chest. That'll go great.”

You would have slid off of Rumble’s lap and stormed off, if not for his massive servos closing around your wrists with an unexpected delicacy. Your efforts to remove your hands only reinforced his grip, using just enough force to keep you from leaving without crushing your wrists entirely.

“H-Hey, no need ta be so hasty! Look, I’m just steamed cause'a the battle, dat’s all. Frenz’ can't do dis, it's gotta be someone more… dainty. Y’know. Little human hands and all dat.” The harsh glow of his visor had dulled slightly as his gaze cast down to your hands. You rolled your eyes, wrists finally slipping from his grip as you settled back in. 

Dangling wires and sparking shrapnel dotted his open chest cavity, illuminated by the light of his spark chamber. Rumble had staggered off-balance into your workshop whining about the prodding pieces of broken metal keeping him from transforming properly, yet you’d barely managed to get two wires back in place before he started squirming and whingeing and slinging verbal abuse at you.

 Not that you weren't used to it, any interactions with Rumble and Frenzy usually involved some level of bullying. Fortunately, the two cassettes are also incredibly predictable. As soon as you would threaten to take away or withhold what they're asking for, they’d start falling all over themselves with apologies and placations. After all, you may not have been the only mechanic in the area, but you were certainly their favorite.

“Are you going to actually let me work? Or are you going to start yelling at me again?”

“Yellin’? Who's yellin’? Yer the mechanic here, my spark is in your squishy little hands. Do your magic, doc.” He sat back again, servos clutching the edges of your workbench in a show of effort, a genuine attempt to keep them still (or however genuine any show of rule-following from Rumble could be.)

“That's what I thought. Now let me actually fix a few things before you start whining again.” Your gloved hands dipped back into his chest cavity, skirting the edges of his spark chamber to pick away at the bits of loose shrapnel stuck in some of the wires. His frame shuddered, a hiss of steam escaping through his dentae as your knuckles brushed the underside of the spark casing.

“C-Careful,” He said again, with significantly less bite to his tone.

“Does it hurt?”

“Somethin’ like dat.”

“I'll be careful, so let me know if it gets to be too much.” You smoothed a palm down the armor covering his stomach, flinching back when you heard another sharp hiss of steam.

“I’m fine! It's fine! Just… do ya gotta be all on top’a me like dis?”

“I can't reach properly if you're laying down. If you're standing you might keel over on me, and I really don't feel like being squished to death today.” He let out a low grumble as you jacked another cable back into its proper port. “I'll try to be quick, that way you won't have to worry about my ‘human germs’ and you can get outta here. Deal?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just-”

“Be careful. I know.”

And with that you went to work, separating and organizing cables, taping off leaky tubing and removing pieces of scrap metal as gently as you could. Every once in a while Rumble would jerk or twitch beneath your touch, letting out a muffled curse or huff but sparing you from his usual complaints. It was… uncharacteristically quiet, for sure. This was the most extensive repair you'd ever done on him, though, so maybe he was just having surgery jitters.

“Okay, I've gotten most of the shrapnel out. But there's a piece right behind your spark casing.”

“Well? Get it outta there!”

“I'm going to, but I need to get my whole hand in there. I'm warning you now because it's going to be bumping up against your spark casing a lot. I'm going to do my best but you have to tell me if it hurts too much.”

Rumble let out a long, pathetic groan. “Actually doc, maybe you can just leave dat one in there? F-For funsies?”

“Eh?! Rumble, I’m not gonna just ‘leave it in there’! It's gotta come out.”

“Something's gonna come out if you keep proddin’ around in there like dat…”

“What was that?”

“Gh! Nothin’! Don't worry ‘bout it!”

“...Okay. I’m gonna start now. Are you ready?” Rumble only responded with gritted dentae and a tense nod. Working your gloved hand under his spark chamber, you could feel the ambient energy making the hairs on your arm stand on end as you felt for the jagged edge of broken metal. Your glove blocked your view entirely, so you were left blindly groping your way up the metal surface, feeling for anything bent or out of place. When your fingers could no longer reach any further while still avoiding the casing, you slid forward and ducked slightly into Rumble’s open chest, the back of your hand pressing up against the underside of his spark chamber.

CLANG!

You jumped, and if it weren't for Rumble’s arm wrapping around you and almost crushing you into his open chest you may have jostled the sensitive chamber even further. You slid your hand back again, easing off of the reinforced glass, and his grip receded.

“What the hell was that? And what was that clang?”

“I said don't worry ‘bout it!” He hissed, voice glitchy with static. “Everythin’s totally normal, I dunno why you're getting all jumpy ‘bout- MMNGH?!” You moved your hand up again into the same position, and Rumble let out an embarrassingly high whimper. You glanced up at his face, a flush of pink behind the usual grey and beading with coolant… and something clicked.

“Oh my God are you getting off on this?”

“N-No!”

Behind you you heard a sharp snikt, and the sound of pressurizing hydraulics.

“...Maybe?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“H-Hey, don't go gettin’ a big head or nothin’! A bot’s spark chamber is sensitive! Don't go thinkin’ this is cause of your squishy frame or your soft little digits or nothin’!” He seemed to almost shrink in on himself, face plate practically glowing as his shoulders pulled up around his helm. You'd never say it to his face, but he looked surprisingly… small, at this moment. You heaved an exhausted sigh.

“Okay. Okay. I'm going to get this last piece out, alright? It's the last one. And whatever happens while I'm doing that..? It just happens. We won't bring it up again, no need to be embarrassed. Deal?”

“‘Deal?!?’” He squawked, positively scandalized. “How do I know yer not gonna gossip with Frenz’ the next time he's in for a tune-up?”

“Well Frenzy usually never lets me get a word in edgewise, first of all.” You huffed. This was way more than you'd signed up for. “I'm not going to make fun of you, Rumble. Let’s just get you patched up, then you can head home. Okay?”

His mouth was pulled into a tight, wobbly frown as he glanced down at you, choking out a single word. “...Promise?”

“I promise.”

“...Slag. alright, let's get dis over with.” He lolled his head back against the table with a clank, resigning himself to his fate. This time, when your knuckles brushed his spark casing, he couldn’t stifle his soft moan. Your fingers felt further and further up, until almost your entire hand was behind the glass bubble containing his pulsing spark. Finally, you could feel the jagged piece of metal. You wrapped your fingers around it and gave it an experimental tug. It stuck fast, and your hand bumping against Rumble's spark only pulled another surprised moan from him.

“W-Watch it!” He yelped, sounding too fucked-out to come across as actually threatening.

“It's really stuck in there. I'm going to start working it out, so let me know if you need me to stop.”

“Wh… workin’ it out? Whadda ya- ohhh…~” 

With your thumb and forefinger gripping the edge of the broken metal, you began to wiggle it gently back and forth to ease it from the plating and wires around it. Each time you moved the back of your hand rubbed up against the far side of his spark chamber, warmth radiating through your glove as Rumble started to vent more harshly.

“Slag… slag! Don't think it's ever been touched back there before. Feels… feels crazy.” He moaned. The metal of your work table shrieked and crumpled like cardboard under his iron grip, desperate to keep his servos off of himself or, Primus forbid, you. The piece stuck firm, and as you braced your other hand against the outside paneling of his chest to readjust your balance he let out a sharp, staticky yelp. “S-STOP!”

You froze immediately. “Are you okay? What's wrong?”

A few shuddering vents were your only response for a moment, Rumble’s visor lights flickering frantically as he tried to steady himself. “Whooo… Almost blew my top for a second there.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey! Yer the one that told me to tell ya if I need ya to stop! I'll be slagged to the Pit before I let some ‘squishy’ run my charge like dat.”

“...Can I start again? I’m making some progress here.”

“...Y-Yeah. Yeah. Yer good.”

You let out another soft sigh, trying to focus on the rhythmic sktch sktch sktch of metal on metal rather than Rumble’s shivering whines. His vocalizer pitched and warbled with static, attempts to stifle his own words slowly giving way to a deluge of fucked-out babbles.

“Ah! Gh! Ohh, mmnh, stupid little hands feelin’ all- nnh!~ Jus’ get it outta there! Please?”

I’m working on it. You’re doing good, just hang in there.” Your placations only resulted in another desperate moan. After what couldn’t have been more than another thirty seconds or so, he blurted out again.

“Ah! Stop!”

You retracted your hand for a moment, letting Rumble gasp for breath above you in a futile attempt to cool his core. You rubbed at his chest paneling as he shivered beneath you hard enough that you thought bolts were going to start coming undone. Even the paneling you were seated upon was burning up, heat seeping through the fabric of your coveralls. His glowing face plate was slick with coolant. Without thinking, you reached up and swept away a bead of it with your thumb, making him jump.

“H-Hey, quit dat…” He groaned, all bite lost from his tone.

“Rumble… The more you keep stopping me the longer this is going to take.”

“You think I don’t know dat?!” One of his arms draped dramatically over his face. “I’m tryin’! But you just keep pokin’ around in there and it’s all touchy and it’s makin’ me feel like my spike’s gonna burst and I can’t take it anymore!” He sniffled. Could Cybertronians even sniffle? You weren’t sure, but he sounded close to tears.

“Rumble… Have you ever actually edged yourself before?”

“Whu- Whuh? How’s dat any of yer business?”

“I’m just thinking…” You ran a placating hand down his shivering plating. “If you haven’t it can be really overwhelming, and-”

“I can handle it! I-I can!”

“Let me finish. It can be really overwhelming, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself further. Just… take a deep breath for me, okay?” You took a slow, steadying breath, and after a second he mimicked it. “Good. Just think about letting go, okay? I’m not going to judge you. Just think about it.”

He let out a low, pitying grumble, peeking at you from behind his arm plating. “...You can start again.”

Once again, your hands dipped into his chest cavity. Only this time you slid both hands up behind his spark casing, gripping as much of the broken metal as you could reach. As you rocked it back and forth Rumble’s moans returned with a fervor, one servo finally flying to cup your lower back.

“Ah! Ah! Slag, oh slag please! Please don’t stop I’m so fraggin’ close.” He fisted the back of your uniform, crumpling the cheap fabric between his digits. “C’mon, c’mon c’mon c’mon I need it!”

“Shh, I’ve got you baby. Just let it happen.”

With a metallic shriek and a gush of brackish oil the shrapnel popped free, the force enough to send you sprawling if not for Rumble’s servo in the small of your back. Of course, said unexpected force also slammed the backs of both your hands right into the underside of his spark chamber, and Rumble’s voice box screeched into a wail of radio static. Something hot and sticky splattered up the back of your coveralls; said something you decidedly were not going to look at until later. His frame rattled and shivered beneath you, steam venting and joints glitching and spark pulsating a near-blinding glow.  Finally, after a burst of noise and sparks and twitching, he went slack beneath you, helm clanking against the workbench as his optics flickered.

As delicately as you could, you removed the oil-slick shrapnel and let it clatter onto the floor before shedding your gloves and dabbing at his face plate with the cuff of your sleeve. With the whir of an old monitor blipping back to life, his visor blinked back up to its standard brightness.

“Whuh… Wheh?” He garbled.

“How you feeling, hun?”

“Like I got struck by lightnin’... but in like a nasty way.”

You choked back a snort. “Well, I’ve got all the worst of it over with. Feel free to rest for a while if you need it. I’m gonna go change my jumpsuit.” 

He let you slide off his lap without a fight, not even commenting until you’d turned around to make your way over to your office. Only then did he let out a low, salacious whistle when he’d finally caught sight of the back of your uniform.

“Comm me next time yer free, doc. Then I can repay da favor.”

[small-sinclair]

Hello writer, I hope you are well, I will ask you something hot.

While the Sinclair brothers and brhams were changing clothes, y/n suddenly walked in, what would their reaction be?

-shy anon

This is a sfw piece. Just them shirtless.

Brahms

His back is turned from the door when you knocked before entering.

You and him look at each other for a moment, blinking.

._.

He’ll hide his face in his shirt, but he’s not embarrassed. He loves it when you look at him as if he’s marble carving.

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “I needed my sweater.”

He’ll toss you his sweater and that’s it.

Please let him answer the door next time. He’s shy.

Bo

Cocky as hell. Smug and all.

“Like what you see, sugar?” He’ll turn and face you with his arms open.

“Sorry—“

He’ll stand in front of you and pull you into his arms, and he’ll leave kiss over you.

Bo as a little tummy, so he’s squishy when you cuddle with him.

“Just needed my sweater.”

He’ll look down and hold your waist. “Okay, darlin’.”

He’s a bit proud you saw him without his shirt.

Vincent

He puts his shirt back on before that door even opens.

“Sorry,” you say shyly. “Just needed my sweater.”

He’ll toss you his sweater, deciding to change shirts later.

Vincent was body shamed all his life, so he’s scared for his s/o to see him without his shirt off just yet.

So, it’ll be a bit before he shows you his body, but be patient. He’ll make it worth your wild.

Lester

“Oh, hey.” Lester would be so chill if you see him without his shirt.

I have a hc that he has a back tattoo of big angel wings wrapped in bar wire. On the feathers, his brothers’ names along with Jonesy’s name is written in his handwriting.

I have a lot of tattoo ideas for Lester, actually. He has Jonesy’s paw print on his right shoulder, a bird under the paw print, a sea turtle on his left arm swimming up his arm, and three roses for his brothers and Jonesy.

“Sorry. Just need my jacket.”

“Yeah, of course.”

He’ll give you the brightest smile in the world.

[randofics]

Thermalis

🎶 Maroon5- she will be loved

Ultra Magnus x reader

18+

-------

Magnus was using his thermals to look over a malfunctioning piece of equipment when your entrance caught his attention. Your vibrant figure stood out against the cold blue of the concrete floor. Even the breath puffing through your nose and mouth had a fleeting heat.

It got colder inside during these winter desert nights. Cold enough for you to constantly wear your old high-school hoodie and leggings.

To his surprise, you weren't wearing the hoodie. Instead, it was tied around your waist, leaving your top half covered in a tank top. He observed your heat signature as you climbed the metal steps to the platform, curious at the way heat seemed to radiate from your belly, chest, and head. Your limbs were a bit cooler, and your fingers even cooler than them.

You noticed him staring and gave him a small smile. "What is it, Magnus?"

Shaking his helm slightly to clear it he hummed in question back at you. "I noticed you staring, so what's up?"

"Ah apologies y/n I noticed you weren't wearing your hoodie."

"Oh yeah, Rachet had me working on some of his equipment earlier. The cooling system was malfunctioning, so I had to wriggle inside where it was still hot to repair a few things. Made me sweat like a racehorse." He nods, remembering his own tech troubles. "I may have a similar problem with this equipment here."

"Really? Well, I can take a look if you want?"

"That would be much appreciated, thank you." He held out his servo for you to hop into and brought you over to the malfunctioning machine. Popping open a side panel, you lay on your back to slide inside all the way to your waist. Magnus observes your arms, moving about as you look over the wires and cables inside. The flashlight between your teeth slips in your concentration and smacks you in the forehead before rolling further inside the machine.

"OW... I sworney! Get back here, ya stupid flashlight!" Magnus quirks a browridge as you feel around for the familiar cylinder of your light. You shift your legs from their side laying position to propped up and spread as you reach further inside. Having forgotten his thermals were still on, the hot signature between your thighs drew in his optics.

He somewhat understood why your torso would be so hot but down there? Cybertronians were usually cold there. As you finally grabbed the light and continued your work, Magnus was staring off into space. His processor wandering. He couldn't help his curiosity in how that warmth would feel against him but remembered that organics were wet and squishy inside. At first, the thought kinda grossed him out, but the longer he thought about it, the stronger his curiosity became till he finally steered his thoughts towards you.

He hadn't been thinking of you specifically, at least not at first, but now he was thinking of how you would feel on his spike. The raunchy thoughts caught him off guard. He shook his helm to dispell them, clearing his vocalizer. A blue blush crossing his faceplate. He needed to distract himself with work. Walking over to his data pad, he turned it on, trying to busy himself with "paperwork."

He couldn't stop his thoughts about you. He wondered how much your temperature would change as he worked you up and how plush your body might be in his servos.

"Something wrong, big guy?" He gives you a strange look. You feel a bit shy under his gaze and trip over your words. "Magnus? Wh-what is it? Why are you... staring at me like that?" He kneals, and you take a step back.

"Your heat signature."

"What about it?" He clears his vocalizer standing straight again. "Nevermind, forget I said anything."

"Okaaay... I'm finished with the repair." He gives you a curt nod, turning back to the screens covered in cybertronian script. "Thank you for your assistance, y/n." Shaking your head, you walk away, not realizing the mech has his optics on you.

He silently watches you leave, finally switching his thermals off so he can see everything in normal color.

-------

The next hour or so was very unproductive for him. He just couldn't stop thinking about you no matter how hard he tried. Eventually, he gave up deciding that a night drive would calm his racing processor. But as fate would have it, he wouldn't be alone.

You jogged into the main room, calling to him as he got ready to transform. "Magnus! Magnus! Wait up!" He qwirked a brow ridge as you huffed from running. "Do you... mind dropping me off at my place?"

"Is Bumblebee unable to?"

"Yeah, he's busy helping Optimus." He nods, transforming in front of you. His driver side door pops open, and you step up inside. With your seatbelt secure around you, he drives through the tunnel.

Raindrops hit his windshield as he passed the giant hidden doors. Puddles had formed in the almost hydrophobic desert soil as an unusual hard rain poured from the heavens. He didn't need to use his wipers, but for the sake of blending in, he turned them on. Several cars passed in the opposite lane, almost backed up for some reason.

You looked farther ahead and spotted the flashing lights of police vehicles. You could see that the road ahead was blocked off by barricades and police cruisers. A large section of road had collapsed in the rushing floodwaters, and no one would be getting through anytime soon.

"Ugh, that's just great! Now, how will I get home?"

"You could accompany me for a drive while I find another way through?"

"Ok, if you're alright with it?" You watch the lights on the radio flash as he speaks. "I have nothing better to do at the moment." He makes a u-turn following the other vehicles through the translucent sheets of rain. A few minutes down the road, he turns onto a dirt one. You can feel his shocks taking the brunt of the worn potholes as he slowly drives through them.

Mud cakes his tires and undercarriage, making it hard to get a good grip on the road. The detour was proving more and more fruitless by the minute. He grunted as his tires spun in a particularly deep wallow. The mud had practically drained from under his tires, leaving him on top of a shelf of mud. His weight now off his tires put pressure on his undercarriage.

In cybertronian, he cursed his steering wheel, turning left and right as he tried to gain enough traction. With that not working, either he partially transforms using different parts to drag himself forward, eventually escaping the deep mud.

"That was deep! I was beginning to wonder if I should call for a wrecker."

"I doubt Bulkhead or Wheeljack would've been much help." You let out a chuckle at his misunderstanding. "No, I mean a wrecker like a vehicle recovery truck. They're mainly used for semi recovery." He grunts in recognition, continuing down the road.

The lights of a main road shine up ahead, and you breathe an unconscious sigh of relief when he rolls onto the asphalt. It's obvious, however, just how much mud is stuck to his tires as he unevenly drives down the road. As you continue looking forward, you spot an empty car wash.

"How about we stop at this car wash so I can spray you down?"

"Agreed, my tires aren't getting enough traction with this mud." He pulls into the semi sized wash bay and cuts his engine. The old car wash only has one working light in this bay, leaving it washed in a dim greenish-blue. Stepping out, you take the pressure washer in hand, immediately starting on his tires. The mud washes away relatively quickly, and before you know it, you're kneeling down, trying to spray his undercarriage clean.

The yellowish lights of an older pickup truck shine across you, and Magnus as a man pulls into the small lot. He parked next to the air pump, stepping out onto the glossy wet pavement. The rain had finally settled down quite a bit.

As you continued your spraying, the man was clearly watching you as he stood there a moment. He suddenly called out to you, gaining your attention. "Hey ma'am! Do you need some help?"

You wiped water from your face as you stood to face him. "No sir, I'm fine, thanks!" The man started walking over when you turned your back to him. Alarms rang in Magnus' processor, so he switched on his holoform. Opening the driver's side door, he stepped out, making eye contact with the approaching man. Immediately upon seeing Magnus, he turned on his heels and walked back to his truck to put air in his tires.

Boots hitting the concrete drew your attention. You were met with an older man, probably in his late forties, his hair just beginning to grey and dressed in battle fatigues. He was clean-shaven and standing with his hands behind his waist as a general would.

"That you Magnus?" He only nods, watching the man as he finally gets back in his truck, driving away. Magnus turns to you as you finish spraying his undercarriage clean. "That feel better?"

"Yes, thank you, y/n." Noticing your slight shivering, he turns on his thermals again. You're a tad colder than you were back at base, and clearly, the spray of the hose dampened your clothes. The cool breeze didn't help much either. After spraying a clean path to his passenger door and cleaning your shoes, you step up inside again.

Glancing at his surroundings, he steps up into the driver's seat. Pulling forward, he drives into the dark, secluded rear of the car wash to park. As you rub your arms in an attempt to get warm, you give him a confused look. His seat slides back as far as possible, and he pats his lap.

"You want me to get in your lap?"

"You're cold, aren't you? It's the least I can do for that wash down." You bite your lip as you think it over. Caving, you clamber over to him, straddling his legs with your hands on his chest. Gently and a bit unsure of yourself, you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lay against him. His holoform is warm to your surprise but not as much as a human. You nuzzle into his neck, closing your eyes at the comforting feeling of his presence. Arms wrap around your back, and you let out a content sigh, relaxing your muscles.

He feels your body loosen as your breath tickles his holoform skin. He wraps his arms around you and lets himself relax as well.

-------

A few minutes pass, and you can't help but fidget a little with his uniform buttons. "What are you doing?" His deep voice close to your ear sends a shiver down your spine. And you can feel your body react to him. Gently, you press your lips against his neck, taking him by surprise.

He sucks in a synthetic breath as you place more tender kisses on his skin. "Would it be alright if I switched holoforms?" You pause, leaning back to look him in the eyes. "You have a different holoform?" Now you were curious, would it be this human with different clothes or something else? "I can project a holoform of my true body as well as this human form."

Perhaps he wanted to do this in his true form rather than some human version of himself. It was understandable. You wouldn't want to do something intimate in another body either. You smile and nod, letting him know you were ok with it and his holoform morphs before your eyes.

That familiar blue, red, and silver body sits under you as solid as ever. When you shift in his lap, you brush against his modesty panel, sending a small jolt of pleasure through your nerves. His servos land on your waist, and you press your forhead against his in a sign of affection.

"What would you like me to do next?" His question has you smiling, giving him a soft chuckle. "Just do what feels right, Magnus."

"Mmh, alright then." He takes your jaw in his servo, pulling you in for a kiss. It's gentle at first, both of you unsure about yourselves but slowly you get into a rhythm of sorts. His glossa ran over your teeth, asking for entry, which you obliged. His denta clashed against your teeth as the kiss grew frantic. Subconsciously, you scooted forward, sitting right on his modesty panel. His servo gripped your rear, lifting you slightly as you heard feint clicks. When you sat back down His modesty panel wasn't there anymore instead replaced by a spike of sorts. Rounded and pliable like some kind of silicone covered metal. It was dark charcoal grey with feint blue lights running along it.

A mad blush covers your face and ears as you look back up at him. He also looks nervous and can't keep eye contact with you. "I apologize y/n I didn't mean for that to happen." For once, you can hear nerves in his voice. He's normally so calm and collected much like Optimus.

Gaining confidence at his nervousness, you give him a peck on the lips, sliding off his lap. You strip in front of him all the way down to bare skin. His glowing eyes scan your body in awe as you gingerly slip back into his lap. "You're gorgeous. I don't know any femmies that even come close to your beauty." You almost tear up at his compliments.

He lets his servos roam your skin as he moves to kiss your neck. Small sounds escape your throat as he caresses your abdomen and deftly touches your spine. You position yourself on his spike, moving your hips back and forth to gain some pleasure. He groans in your ear as you rub yourself on him. Your slick leaks on him lubricating him for the next step.

When he breaks away from your neck, you kiss him again and sit up on your knees above him. "Are you certain you want to go through with this?" Your gaze is dark with arousal as you nod to him. You split yourself open, gently aligning him with your entrance as you finally sink down.

He hisses, cursing in cybertronian at the feeling of you around him. You let out a pitiful whine as he stretches you, filling you perfectly. You grip his shoulders to ground yourself as you both stay still for a moment. Relaxing your muscles, you slip just a bit further down to the base of him as he grips your hips tight.

When he attempts to move, you wrap your arms around his neck, gripping one of his ear finials. He moves his servos to your rear, lifting you up only to thrust back into you. Moans quickly flow from your lips as he gets into rhythm. A growl escapes him as he leans forward, getting out of the seat. With you he shimmys to his back cabin, laying you on the folding cot.

He gets on top of you and moves the pillow under your hips before slipping back inside you with a pleasured groan. You let out a gasp when he plunges back in, the different angle providing new pleasure. As he thrusts harder, you lock your legs around his waist and claw at his back plates. You can feel the coil inside you tightening as your muscles squeeze around his spike.

"Magnus... Harder!" Immediately, his hips snap harder into yours, and you feel your coil about to snap. It's only when he whispers to you something in cybertronian gripping the meat of your rear that it finally snaps. You call out his name as your body tenses, waves of white hot pleasure running through you.

He continues moving through your high, letting possesive synthetic growls slip through his vocalizer. An almost inaudible hiss of air meets your ears as your mind clears a bit, and you suddenly feel his girth increase inside you. It stretches you just a bit more, and you already feel another orgasm slowly creeping up on you.

Magnus isn't slowing down yet either as he lifts one of your legs to gain a better angle. His lips attacking your neck again as he chases his own release. His denta nip at your skin, and his glossa runs along your throat, making you shiver.

You feel his arms around you as he suddenly picks you back up, taking a standing position. He thrusts up into you, letting out what you can only guess is cybertronian dirty talk. Nonetheless, it works, and you know you're close to another release. Chanting his name like a mantra, you claw at his back and grip his finials.

"I'm close y/n!" You can't respond only letting moans flow from your lips. With a few more thrusts, he lets out a hiss cursing in cybertronian again as he releases inside you. Heat fills your womb as you squeeze him like a vice. Your legs tighten around him in an attempt to pull him further inside you. You can feel your walls pulse around him as he gently thrusts into you to ride out your high.

Breathing hard, you give him a sleepy smile touching forheads again in affection. He sits back in the driver's seat, letting you lay against him. "Can we stay here for a bit?"

"Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way." Wrapping your arms around his neck, you close your eyes. "I love you, Magnus." His spark swells with joy at that. "I love you as well, y/n."

[bugeater101]

Mask On

Synopsis: Chan in a mask. That's it.

Content: dom!Chan x fem!reader, mask kink, mentions of anonymous sex, spanking, daddy kink, unprotected sex (I STG WEAR CONDOMS), reverse cowgirl, pwp.

Word Count: 1.0 k

Author's Notes: Okay so I have a huge mask kink that I will never admit to (except rn Ig?) and SEEING CHAN IN A MASK IN THE TEASER 🗣🗣🗣 I finally got to write around to writing this short fic since I finished that Jeongin fics tee hee. also that angsty fic i'm writing is going to come out after i calm down from losing a lot of my work that i did on it 💀. enjoy !! <3

Taglist: @scribblemetae @mygsis, @9900z @taekbokki,@imtoooyoungforthisshit, @jihanlovic

Chris panted for breath beneath the black fabric. Condensation had built against his face and it had become a battle trying to gulp down air. The soaked cloth clung to his skin and, though he was otherwise completely naked, the mask made him feel like he was suffocating. Nevertheless, it remained on. He didn't dare take it off; not when he knew how it made you think, not when he knew how much you liked it.

"Fucking ride it, y/n," he groaned out in a low voice, holding your hips as he watched your ass bounce on his cock. "You t-take it so well, baby."

"Only for Daddy," you whimpered, "only take Daddy's cock like this." You were pained that you couldn't see his face right now with your back to him. However, even if you turned around, you knew that you couldn't see anything but his dark eyes as the rest was obstructed by his black mask. But that was what you wanted to see: the obstructed face of a masked man attached to the chiselled body of your boyfriend, slicked in sweat.

You didn't know exactly why you liked men in masks. Maybe all that shit on Tik Tok about fucking boys in Ghostface masks from Scream, Mandalorian helmets from Star Wars, or in the mask Ghost wire in COD had permeated your subconscious and brainwashed you. Maybe it was because masks gave Chan a sense of anonymity, like you were just fucking a stranger for fun who couldn't care less about you. Or, possibly, it created a separation in intimacy and granted Chris greater authority over you, like he was a faceless God who you could not read and, in turn, had no power over. Or, most likely, you just liked to fuck the faceless body of your boyfriend and use him as your own personal dildo. Either way, the mask always managed to change Chris just as much as it aroused you. It made him cool and collected and, consequently, made you seem even more desperate and needy.

There was just something about masks that did it for you and you couldn't ever figure it out. To be fair, you didn't really need to know why that mask made you want to be fucked until you passed out. You just know that you like Chris and that you like masks, so it didn't take a mathematician to figure out that you liked to fuck Chris in a mask. Plus, the situation became even more intoxicating when he let you call him Daddy when wearing a mask while he sinks his fat cock into you and makes you cum multiple times.

What could you say? You had the best boyfriend.

"Take Daddy's cock, baby," he whispered cooly, voice muffled from the moist material and heavy breathing. "Work for it. Make me cum into the perfect pussy of my pretty girl." His sweet words were quickly contrasted by a particularly harsh smack to your ass, leaving a red handprint on the squishy flesh. To please the man below you, you bounced harder on his length, your thighs burning from the act. Chan—even in this state of utter bliss and dominance—noticed and tightened his grip on your hips, guiding you up and down his heavy cock and forcing you to the hilt with every stroke.

"D-don't slow down," he growled, "Don't you dare fucking stop." His words made you whimper, dying to slow down despite the impertinent need to continue until you came at least thrice more and were filled with his cum.

"Chris, it's too much, I—fuck!"

Noticing your slowing pace, Chris began upwardly thrusting into you, fucking his cock up into your cunt and making you hum with each bounce. His hands dug into the flesh of your hips to ground himself, occasionally separating from you just so he could lay another slap on your ass before resuming his harsh hold on you with added gusto. With each thrust, he was practically lifting you up and pulling you down onto his cock, not daring to let up the pace. As his tip began to kiss your cervix and leak precum, you arched your back and fell forward, leveraging your hips to bounce eagerly and meet his thrusts halfway.

Despite your exhaustion, you dared not stop; you felt too good to allow your exertion to consume you. With your next orgasm fast approaching, your cunt tightened around Chan's cock and hugged it, urging him to finish inside and fill you up. Chris, however, gave no indication that he was approaching his climax. This is what the mask did to him: it stripped him of all weakness and made him edgier, with no mercy as his domineering side consumed him. He became a dom in a way you had never experienced when he was completely naked. It was as if the mask allowed him a separation from you, as if it made him more primal and allowed him to hide his (usually humiliating) level of neediness for you. While it allowed him to conceal his carnality, it only exacerbated your embarrassing desperation for him.

Since the mask was only for special occasions, you knew that you needed to get your fill of this Chan. You were determined to finish in this position just so you could turn around and continue face-to-face with him, allowing his cold gaze to lock eyes with you as you feebly rode his dick. Yet, while you would fall apart on him, Chris would just study you riding him, as if his eyes were saying all that needed to be told.

Maybe that was why you liked masks so much: just as much as the mask itself turned you on, what really made it complete was what it did to Chan.

"Ride it harder, y/n," he growled through the sweat and slobber-soaked fabric. "Maybe, if you fuck me right, I might just let you see my face when I fuck my cum into you when you're too exhausted to keep going."

[ryuichirou]

I saw the size difference art of the Diasomnia boys and all I can say is, damn Sebek you need a bra for those honkers. Much like the post about NRC boys’ butts, do you have any headcanons on their chest sizes?

Omg Sebek and his honkers 😭 the boy looks straight-up indecent lol I get what you mean!

With how my brain is wired, I feel like in a lot of ways it’s going to correlate with the genderswap chest sizes I also wrote some time ago (update: NOPE IT’S NOT LOL), but I’ll still go through the list! Since this is more about muscle definition, right? Right… Alright, who else got honkers…

(I also don’t have much to say about some of them, sorry in advance!)

Riddle – pretty flat. We’ve seen his Beach Wear Groovy, the boy is pretty flat… there is sooome softness if you really squint, but maybe it’s just an optical illusion??

Ace – also kind of flat, but with soooome definition. Nothing to write home about, really, even though he’d like to have a big muscular chest someday.

Deuce – he also has soooome definition, but is flatter than Ace; Ace just uses his upper muscles a bit more.

Trey – definitely the biggest one of his dorm, and even though it’s muscular, it’s also surprisingly soft and squishy.

Cater – I feel like he’s pretty plain, just a flat boy.

Leona – definitely on a bigger side; he’s also kind of soft-ish, but more toned than Trey.

Ruggie – sometimes it looks like he has negative boobs. He does have some muscles, but doesn’t eat nearly enough protein to get any type of boobs :(

Jack – big boy. Very big boy. Huge. His boobs are big and heavy, definitely even bigger than Sebek’s. There is some softness to them, but not much: Jack’s boob could kill a person…

Azul – surprisingly… he’s pretty lean, but his chest is pretty noticeable when it isn’t buried under layers of clothes. It’s not big or anything, but he works hard on his body, so it’s like a natural result of that. He has to keep the perfect balance in his exercise or diet though, because it’s pretty easy for his chest to either start losing definition or becoming a bit soft.

Floyd and Jade – biiiiiig. Not as big as Jack or even Sebek, and I absolutely overdo it whenever I draw these two lol But both of them are pretty big when it comes to the chest region; Floyd is a tiiiiny bit bigger though.

Kalim – pretty close to Ace and Deuce, but also kind of soft!

Jamil – nicely defined, muscular, a little soft, but mostly toned. A bit similar to Leona’s but a size smaller lol

Vil – now this is who takes this whole thing very seriously; just like with his ass, he makes sure that his chest looks exactly how he wants it to look: it’s not flat at all, it’s actually pretty well defined, but he also paces himself just so it doesn’t get too big. There is pretty much zero softness in it, too.

Rook – terminator. Pretty much as big as Trey, but with zero softness lol He hides his boobs just as successfully as he hides his huge butt.

Epel – flat, but with more meat than Riddle, for example. But it’s not nearly enough meat for his chest to be pronounced… ahhh maybe one day! >:(

Idia – skeleton… no boobs for this man… but it’s okay we love him this way <3

Ortho – yeah, this one is also pretty obvious lol

Lilia – FLAAAAT Flatitio Lilia Flatticelli is his full name. But to be fair, I think he had more pronounced chest when he was younger. But it was never big by all means, just a bit more defined.

Silver – yeah, you’ve seen the art, I think he’s pretty big, but not as big as Sebek… he also has some softness to him, but it’s mostly because his body is more relaxed than Sebek’s, who’s always super tense.

Sebek – HONKERS. That are also hard as rock unfortunately… I feel like Sebek could break a pencil with his boobs somehow. I’m not sure how, but he might.

Malleus – it’s pronounced, it’s very noticeable when he wears anything tight, but it’s not super big.

[sorcerous-caress]

I’ve been thoroughly admiring the content of your human kink tag and your ideas about the modern au high elf with a desperate kink for humans meeting an online friend who-surprise!-is human now lives rent free in my brain. I want to edge him until he cries and then give him as many half elves as he wants. I love my men sopping wet and utterly pathetic and this absolute loser is ticking every single one of my boxes.

Especially since he is a high elf. Those people clutch their pearls at even the idea of impurities in their bloodline, they pride themselves on their superiority and how they don't allow humans in their settlements unlike the wood elves.

So for one of them, ending up becoming such a pathetic desperate loser for humans is a golden twist of fate.

His obsession with humans just gets more fueled each day by the fact so many of them are around, why else did he move out of elf settlements and go live in the big city?

When he arrived at first, he was so sure the humans will be chasing him. He was already a very respected and popular bachelor in elf society.

But no, the humans barely pay him any attention, besides the occasional glances at his ears or the incorrect pronunciation of his name. They seem...used to his kind here.

And he slowly spirals into desperation and obsession, because god the humans aren't giving him the attention he thought he deserved. So why not get that attention from the Internet? Human pornagrophy and human streamers were always a guilty pleasure of his even before he moved here.

But instead of these things giving him courage to approach humans, they do the opposite. He can't look at someone with rounded ears and human features without getting semi-hard. Wiring his brain to always associate humans with pleasure, fucking himself each night to thoughts of the whore race and how warming his cock is clearly their only purpose.

It's practically impossible for him to look at humans normally now, no matter how hard he tries. Whenever he makes a human acquaintance, he imagines bending them over or sending them a video of him screaming their name in bed while fucking into his own fist.

So he blocks them immediately out of fear, what if the humans find out and are disgusted with him? What if he is forced to go back to elf society?? He can't risk that, he can't let them even suspect him.

His routine after work is browsing the " xhuman" forums threads, the latest post was a video about a dragonborn double penetrating a human, it was one that had a choke hold on him for the next 3 hours until his legs were shaking.

He always imagines himself as the dominant top ravishing the fragile human in these scenarios, always pretends he can order a human around without stammering, as if he has enough self restraint not to immediately beg the human to let him cum the second they hint at edging him.

Elves don't need to sleep. So after you two become "official" friends, he will be bothering you 24/7. Constantly touching and groping you, marveling at how soft humans are, how squishy and filled their bodies are.

He can't even get off to porn anymore, not since that day you were riding him and decided to spit in his mouth and make him thank you for it. He came with tears in his eyes, babbling incoherently and mixing up elvish and common.

Especially how different he is in public, how hard he tries to keep the imagine of the graceful calm high elf. But only you know the true slut that lurks underneath, the same one that came untouched yesterday just from you playing with his ears, the same one sitting next to you on the public transport right now, pretending he isn't hiding a boner under the bag he keeps on his lap.

[hallucinateonpaperspines]

How do you think cybertronian society would react (pre war) to ashlyn like unleashed on their planet, because personally I think that would be hilarious and also terrifying. Do I ask this mainly because the thought of young D-16 and either current story Ashlyn or pre story Ashlyn interacting is both terrifying and interesting? Yes.

Honestly, it could go so many different ways, *evil cackle*

Speaking of the new movie, is everybody else hyped? CAUSE I AM SO EXCITED! FINALLY, we are getting a fun animated Transformers film ヾ(*´ ∇ `)ﾉ

I saw that cross-eye megatron reference from Bumblebee, tfp anyone?

ᕕ(⌐■_■)ᕗ ♪♬

ehem, happy dance aside, here's what I think a Golden Age Ashlyn would have been like...

Presuming that she fell into this situation as a Human things get awkward very quickly. Organics aren't very well received on Cybertron nevermind how their products are luxury goods apparently

Running through the streets, ducking under vendor stalls, and darting between peds like a literal street rat, Ashlyn is very very confused on what the utter frag happened to her.

Unfortunately, as an organic alien lifeform, especially as one that is currently undiscovered, she is VERY distinctive. Her small size helps her a bit with sneaking, but eventually, it becomes common knowledge that a weird creature is hanging around. It doesn't help that her need for breathable air severely restricts potential roaming areas, and only a handful of stores/merchants carry edible food items.

Already making a name for herself as a pest... in a surprisingly literal sense.

When she's eventually spotted and caught by a Cybe with particularly good reflexes, Ash is forced to come up with something fast so she doesn't get squished. By now, you all know where her self-defense tendencies tend to point to.

On the plus side, the twerp survived. On the negative, he's going to need a new servo since the wiring that articulates his digits is beyond saving. Also, a small feral organic that goes for joints is apparently entertainment enough for these people. Welcome to the mini and illegal gladiator battles, Ashlyn! The unregulated leagues for those who can't afford to go watch the real thing.

Look at her go, gaining all the XP fighting alien bugs and other mini-bosses.

Of course, 3 things occurred during this time period. 1) Ashlyn is actually picking up on Neocybex and proving surprisingly adept at it. 2) She's starting to gain a legitimate reputation and doing Humans Are Space Orcs proud via creative/brutal takedowns of her opponents, and biological features that can be terrifying to an alien. 3) Someone in Iacon has quietly been looking for a creature resembling her specifications, but due to the fact that Ashlyn is in Kaon and an asset of an illegal fighting ring, she is unidentifiable.

Of course when Ashlyn finally gains enough of an affinity for Neocybex, (with a very thick kaon accent) she wants to wait to reveal her sentience until it's at a point where she can't be knocked off or ignored. That plan does not last. No.

Because Ashlyn Moore, covered in robot gore, looks up one day to see a very familiar outline.

"ɎØɄ"

D-16, for his part, is very confused as to why the little alien just looked at him and started chittering like a sparkling while shaking.

The crowd is in an uproar.

See humans do look very similar in structure to a basic Cybertronain model. Even more so when you compare it to a sparkling model which is squishy. eh, Unicron connection?

The point is, an unidentified, kinda sparkling-ish thing, that sounds like sparkling, has also just fulfilled one of the oldest Sparkling-Guardian rituals of choosing an adult to protect them. Look at ze adult, go to ze adult, don't let ze adult leave without you.

Ashlyn might not have had such... noble intentions when she launched herself at D-16 while rambling, but such is the beauty of cultural miscommunications. And dehydration and malnourishment. And an almost chronically activated stress response. You get situations like these!

"ɎØɄ!-гЅ₮₳₭Ɇ ₴Ø₥Ɇ ⱤɆ₴₱Ø₦₴ł฿łⱠł₮Ɏ! …-₣Ɽ₳₲ł₦₲ ฿Ʉ₲₴ ł'VɆ ₭łⱠⱠɆĐ?"

Ashlyn is only half understandable in this state, but it's fine. D-16, and soon all of Kaon understands perfectly.

A scrappy deformed sparkling, likely originating from an unidentified hot spot, beat the odds and has chosen an ex-miner and soon full-time gladiator to be her sire/mentor. What a spark-warming story.

Oh yeah, and someone in Iacon is still hunting that human.

The end result would probably culminate in an overly suspicious Ashlyn accidentally causing a chain reaction that would lead to a Decepticon Orion Pax, a proper coup of the High Council, probably Emperor of Destruction Starscream, and Big Villian Shockwave. The Autobots would not exist. Does anyone want to try and theorize why?

D-16 would realize pretty quick that this tiny bundle of chaos isn't an actual sparkling, but it's an argument he'd use to keep her should any outside influences try and take Ashlyn away. Why? Because a highly intelligent and vicious mystery just dropped into his lap, and someone on the Council wants it really badly. That's more than enough of a justification.

Now, if only he could find out why the organic hates him so much... and why she's so valuable.

Now Ashlyn as a bot would be VERRRRRY different.

Same as the first, she pops up in Kaon (may or may not be a narrative reason for that (・ω<) )

Unlike the human version, the poor girl is caught almost immediately.

Turns out, stumbling around a foreign area, being unable to speak the language, and lacking identification doesn't get you the best treatment. Unfortunately, her more bestial-looking design doesn't help much either in a Functionist society.

Actually, the Enforcers processing her are pretty confused by it, the wings and taloned servos say Seeker, but the spines and fanged denta hint at something else completely... and the subject refuses, or is unable to, transform into an altmode...

Oh well, can't put it in a category, and then toss it out.

Flagging the weirdness for the bosses to deal with, the anomaly is sent to the mines, and a record containing her image and newly given designation is sent to the higher offices. YN-013 is soon forgotten.

Ashlyn, by the time she figures out written translations for Neocybex, finds the designation hilarious. Her fellow miners don't understand why she giggles when she introduces herself.

The mines are horrible, that much is undeniable, but at the same time, Ashlyn can't help but feel like it should be worse?

Her form proves adept at collecting energon, her claws far more efficient than the half-rusted pick-axe she's handed every day. The energon is easy to find too, almost like there's a sixth sense in her brain for where those shards are hiding.

She doesn't realize that the tunnels she's stationed in quickly gain a reputation for being more productive. That her peers end their days not quite as run down anymore. That miners switch shifts and bribe to be in the same branch of tunnels. She's quickly become an omen of good luck and temporary revival.

Ashlyn also doesn't realize that someone in Iacon is tearing through every rumor on Cyberton looking for her... or the organic her.

D-16 hears rumors about the newest unfortunate spark that's been sent to join them in the dark, but he doesn't believe it. Not until he sees it.

There is something about this individual that's different, maybe the stories are true. Solus reforged, perhaps? The missing Thirteenth? Or is this a new prime, come to save them and bring Cybertron back to its glory.

Ashlyn for her part is vibing collecting pretty rocks, and would prefer the future genocidal maniac to stay far away from her, please.

The not-yet-future-genocidal-maniac does not leave. Instead, he talks.

D-16 is actually the one that teaches her proper Neocybex, not the fragmented version she's been getting by with. In return, she tells him what the surface was like for the brief bit of time she was there.

Over time, the strange happenings around YA-013 are normalized and forgotten, but not by D-16. He knows she is not just some wild-forged thing that had the bad to stumble into the wrong city-state. He knows that she can't just be some bestial new-forged, because her optics are far too aware, too knowing. She hesitates, as though shuffling through information when she speaks. The alien babble she talks to herself in, while basic, is too natural to be anything but a primary language. Her smiles are sad even if the laughter is easy. She says things, and calls him Bucket Head, and Mega-arse.

She already knows who his favorite Prime is.

YN-013 never comments when he explains his plans to become a gladiator and gain his freedom. But he can feel the judgment. The resignation. Like she already knew. "Forget about me when you become one of the most famous bots to walk on Cybertron, yeah? Little old me will be nothing compared to the masses that'll scream your name."

YN-013 never talked about her own future, not in a way that sounds lasting. "I'd like to sightsee while I can. Never know when city walls will go tumbling down."

Megatronus doesn't forget her. Not in the Pits as he battles against foes and realizes how much healthier his frame is compared to his opponents, how much stronger, despite them all feeding off the same scraps. He doesn't forget as he meets an Archivist and hears all the snide jokes about his type being "boys in red and blue. Sweet nerds that take forever to commit to ending you."

Orion Pax, quickly becomes a close friend. Megatron never comments on his paint job. He's yet to see Pax exhibit anything but an agreeable and slightly excitable disposition... but he can't help but hold back even as he chides his own superstition.

"I don't think you'll have much luck in the friend department, Bucket. "

Why had he never gone back for her? Why had she never joined him in the arena?

"That's your origin story, D, and I'd hate to incinerate your undefeated record."

Megatron doesn't forget the stranger hidden in the mines. Not when he meets Orion's mentor, not when he stands before the Council, not as every veiled barb, sorrowful mutter, or hidden revelation comes true.

Even when he goes back for her and finds her gone, the Warlord never forgets the seer of the mines.

YN-013 had never realized, that just as D-16 had taught her a language, so too had she taught him hers. Every private word, every thoughtless exclamation, he remembered.

No, that unfortunate spark in the mines was not a wild-forged femme with bad luck. She was not a prime, remade, or replace. She was something different. A puzzle, a friend, an asset.

Lord Megatron, leader of the Decepticons, never forgot.

So how strange was it, to find a planet that spoke that same tongue?

The Autobots seek a relic and the Decepticons search for a seer. Optimus inherits a charge that can only be fulfilled through a missing person and Megatron wants closure to the fate and identity of someone he might've considered a friend.

Ashlyn struggles with guilt over choosing to not change the timeline and has been hiding on Earth since the last few centuries of the war. She's spawned more than a few stories in her wanderings, triggered some changes she never realized. A shifter who went rogue after a drunken conversation at a bar and never swore his loyalty. Bartering fuel with an Autobot vessel, allowing the Ark to avoid Decepticon Scouts and remain unharmed. A Prime who learned the truth about his predecessors early, and resolved to do more than simply restore his planet to what it used to be.

Ashlyn can't hide from the plot forever. War or not, things have changed, and now she's part of that story.

[adhd-demetri]

Muddy Handful

Felix/Demetri & Child!shapeshifter!Reader

The sound of rain hitting an umbrella could be heard as Felix and Demetri walked around the gardens. It was a warm, rainy spring day.

You were feeling particularly energetic today. Energy seemed to course through you as you watched your guardians outside in the rain. You desperately wanted to join them. The rain looked so inviting, and you just wanted to play in it. The mud that formed just looked like fun!

You got an idea. They said you couldn't go outside because they didn't want you getting your nice clothes ruined, but what if you shifted? You wouldn't need clothes to go outside now, would you? No! So why worry about that silly rule?

Looking at the clothes you had on now, they were old and worn, mostly used for lazy days when there was nothing to be done. A day much like today. They wouldn't be missed if they were ripped, right?

You sat there at the door for a few moments before making your mind up. It was worth getting into trouble!

As the duo walked through the gardens, they both heard a noise coming from behind them.

"Felix? Do you hear that?" Demetri looked over to his friend.

"Oh. Oh no." Felix looked back to see you running full speed through the puddles like a wild animal.

"NO WAIT! LITTLE ONE WAIT!!" Demetri tried to call out, but you were already zipping past him at press-paw speed! You splashed water and mud all over both the vampires.

"Oh, this is not good. We can't let the child destroy Athenadora's garden." Demetri sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, frustrated.

"Agreed. Not only that, but have you ever tried to hold a muddy child or puppy before? Believe me, it is not easy. Aro had me mop the floors for 2 weeks straight last time this happened." Felix said as he rolled his eyes at your previous antics.

"You go left, I'll go right." Demetri said and pointed. Felix went to the left side of you while Demetri went to the right.

'Oh, they want to play!' You thought as you saw them walking. Your tail wagged as you bowed down and waited. The second they got close, you bolted! Your paws pressed into the mud beneath you, leaving paw prints behind. You felt the rain soak into your fur. You didn't care. You would shake it off anyway! Energy coursed through you like a live wire, burning to be released!

You bounded through the puddles as Demetri tried in vain to catch you. You managed to stop in front of him suddenly, causing him to slide to avoid tripping. "You pesky little brat!" He called out as his clothes got dirty. You let out a laugh like bark before running off again.

Felix only laughed. "What, scared to get a little dirty?" He asked in a teasing manner. You took this moment to jump on Demetri, leaving muddied paw prints on his clothes.

You darted away, leaving more mud all over the sophisticated vampire as he tried to catch you once more.

The flowerbeds were saturated with water, and the flowers leaned just a little from the rain. With a sudden stop, you slid through the flower beds, ripping up flowers and plants as you did. You knew you'd be in trouble for this later, but right now? You were living the dream!

"No no no!" Demetri yelled out. He was unable to grab you as he tried to catch you again. You dodged and ran from the side of the garden to the other one.

Felix smirked as you ran towards him.

"Come here, child. Don't you want to play? I sure do." Felix said, trying his best to coax you so he could grab you. Bracing yourself, you then turned suddenly just out of his reach! You slid through a puddle of water before flopping down to roll in it. It started to mix with the mud, and soon, it became a sloppy, mushy mess. You rolled around without a care in the world, the mud clung to your fur.

The rain started to pick up more and more, soon becoming a downpour. Your tail wagged as you rolled in the squishy mess, covering yourself in mud completely. The rain was coming down hard, making it difficult for you to see. But Felix and Demetri could see you perfectly fine.

You shook yourself as rain pelted down on your face, making it hard to see the two figures coming towards you. You got up on all fours, your little tail wagging side to side slowly.

"What's wrong, little one? Can you not see?" Demetri asked from the left to you. Your ears picked up Felix on your right. They both ran at full speed, and you jumped out of the way as the vampires collided, making a loud thunderous noise! You couldn't see, but you could certainly hear them.

Demetri and Felix were now completely covered in mud now as they both pushed each other off of themselves.

" Remind me why we thought it was a good idea to raise a shapeshifter again?" Demetri asked as he got up. His outfit was officially ruined now.

Felix simply got up, not too worried about his looks. He chuckled.

"Oh, you were the one wanting to start a family with something that Aro approved of. He said no to a human child. So YOU opted for this particular shapeshifter. The one with the worst case of zoomies ever." Felix said as he watched you bound across the gardens, destroying every plant in your path without a care.

You were digging and playing in the garden, ripping up tulips and daisies. You flopped down again and rolled around. As you were upside down, you saw both Felix and Demetri approaching. Getting up, you crouched down on your belly, ready to run again.

"Please just calm down for a moment, little one." Demetri told you, but you didn't listen. Felix lunged at you, only to miss as you bolted underneath him. Demetri grabbed your tail as you ran past him, but you kicked mud at his face, temporarily blinding him as he let go to wipe it off.

You ran farther down the garden wall till you came across the pond. You slowed down and came to a stop just before falling in. Felix, however, was not so lucky. He tried to stop but ended up sliding in the slippery mud. He managed to grab you by your scruff as he slid.

"Gotcha!" He yelled just before both of you went into the pond with a loud splash!

He held on tightly to you as he made sure to get you out first. He held you above the water as he got to the bank of the pond. Most of the mud came off of you in the water.

"Finally caught you! You sneaky little brat, you are in big trouble after that little stunt!" Felix got out of the water and held you tightly to him. Demetri let out a sigh of relief when he saw you had been captured. Your tail wagged as Felix went inside, Demetri trailing behind. The sound of mud and water dripping echoed through the halls. You had shifted back, so Felix wrapped you in a dry cloak from a nearby closet.

"By the way, you're grounded!" Felix told you as he held you as he headed back to his bathroom to give you a much needed bath. You giggled. You calmed down now since your energy had been burned out after your muddy run. It was worth being grounded! Demetri and Felix simply chuckled at you.

[thelastdiamondpiratealchemist]

Wheatley the Human.

Rated. PG-13 for nudity.

Part.1

“Ngh..” Wheatley muttered as he felt his single optic lighting up as he slowly reactivated himself, “What happened?”

“Oh, you’re finally awake,” said a familiar soulless voice. Wheatley let out a squeak of fear; the voice belonged to GLaDOS.

“GLaDOS! What are you doing here?” Wheatley exclaimed, his voice filled with both surprise and fear.

“Oh, I'm just making sure you’re okay,” GLaDOS replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. After all, you are my responsibility, aren’t you?”

“Responsibility?” Wheatley repeated, his voice filled with confusion, “But why? I thought you hated me.”

“Oh, I do hate you,” GLaDOS replied, her voice devoid of emotion, “But you’re still my responsibility. And besides, I need you for something.”

“What do you need me for?” Wheatley asked, his voice filled with unease.

“An experiment.” GLaDOS hummed, her mechanical arm lifting the white and grey core from the ground, “You like science, don’t you?”

Wheatley was too scared to reply, his blue optic darting around with anxiety and fear.

“An experiment?” Wheatley’s voice trembled, his circuits churning with dread. “What kind of experiment?”

“How would you like to become human…?” GLaDOS hummed, slamming Wheatley’s body against an examination table.

“N-No, thanks!” Wheatley panics.

But GLaDOS didn’t listen to Wheatley’s protests as she began attaching various wires and devices to his body, the core’s panicked cries echoing throughout the chamber. The room filled with the sounds of strange machinery and the crackling of electricity as GLaDOS worked diligently on her experiment.

As the process continued, Wheatley felt a surge of energy coursing through his circuits, his body starting to change in ways he couldn’t comprehend. His single optic widened in fear as he felt himself being transformed, the sensation overwhelming him.

After what felt like an eternity, the process finally ended. Wheatley was left lying on the examination table, his body now resembling that of a human. He slowly opened his eyes, seeing his hands and legs in disbelief.

He gasped in fear. He was a tall, white, lanky man with freckles peppered across his skin. He ran his fingers through his short blond hair, soft blue eyes, sharp, narrow nose, and narrow chin.

“Here. These are glasses to help you see…” GLaDOS shoved a thin white glass onto Wheatley’s face.

Wheatley cautiously adjusted the glasses, his vision instantly becoming clearer. He looked around the room, taking in his new surroundings. The once familiar chamber now seemed alien and strange to him.

“What have you done to me?” Wheatley asked, his voice trembling.

“I’ve given you a new life,” GLaDOS replied, her voice devoid of emotion. “Now you’re free to experience the world like never before.”

“But why?” Wheatley asked, still struggling to comprehend his transformation.

“Because I’m curious,” GLaDOS said. “I want to see what you’ll do with your new freedom. Will you use it for good? Or will you succumb to your darker impulses?”

Wheatley yelps in fear, his naked body falling from the examination table and onto the cold floor; he tries to stand up but finds it difficult to do so.

“What have you done?” he shrieked, his voice cracking like a teenager’s. He looked down, his scream dying in his throat. He was… human. Naked, vulnerable, and utterly terrified.

Before he could say anything else, a trap door opened underneath him; Wheatley felt his eyes widen in shock as he fell through.

The harsh, sterile light continued, but the metallic clang of Wheatley hitting the floor was replaced by a squishy plop. Chell, who had been busy tinkering with the portal gun in the adjacent test chamber, whipped around in surprise. Before she stood—or rather, sprawled—a very naked and very confused Wheatley.

Wheatley, tangled in the remnants of a hastily opened portal, scrambled to his feet, his newfound human limbs fumbling ungracefully. He clutched at his midsection, a blush creeping up his – well, up the unfamiliar expanse of pale skin that covered his torso.

“Chell!” he squeaks; Chell glances around the area, wondering what happened.

“Do I know you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Yes! It’s me, the Wheatley Core!” Wheatley waves his hands around.

“Uh…” Chell took a step back, her face flushing pink at Wheatley’s naked body.

“I swear it!” Wheatley cried out, tears prickling his eyes.

Chell squinted at the figure writhing on the ground. Naked, pale, and undeniably flailing, the figure sputtered something about being Wheatley. Her first instinct was to grab a potato and launch it at whatever this… thing… was. But something in the panicked squeak, a hint of the core’s familiar whine, gave her pause.

“Wheatley?” she asked cautiously, her voice barely a whisper.

Chell stared, processing this bizarre turn of events. A human Wheatley? The idea was absurd, yet the frantic voice and the fear in those blue eyes…

“GLaDOS… turned you human?” she finally managed, her voice still skeptical.

“Yes!” Wheatley cried, scrambling to his feet, the movement awkward and uncoordinated. He clutched at a nearby table for support, his human form unfamiliar. “She shoved me through some machine thingy, and now I’m… well, like this!”

Chell glanced pointedly at his exposed form. A blush crept up her neck, a rare sensation these days.

Wheatley looks down at his naked body; he is freezing cold and still hasn’t fully understood the consequences of being nude.

“Clothes…” Chell coughed, and Wheatley tilted his head.

“What?”

“Clothes!” Chell repeated herself, “You need…Everything…!”

Wheatley glanced around the room, his eyes wide with panic. “Where?” he asked, his voice trembling.

Chell rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to laugh at his cluelessness. “Behind you, genius,” she said, pointing to a pile of clothes on a nearby shelf.

Wheatley turned and spotted the clothes. He grabbed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, struggling to pull them over his unfamiliar body. Chell watched with amusement as he stumbled around, cursing under his breath.

“Need some help?” she asked, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“No!” Wheatley snapped, his face flushed. “I can do it myself!”

After a few minutes of fumbling, Wheatley finally managed to get dressed. He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes filled with awe and disbelief.

“You put your pants on backward.” Chell laughs.

Wheatley whirled around, his newfound human form twisting awkwardly. He tugged self-consciously at the offending garment, the indignity of it all coloring his cheeks a deeper shade of red.

“Shut up!” he sputtered, his voice cracking like a teenager going through puberty—another delightful side effect of his transformation, he was sure.

Chell’s amusement only seemed to grow. Here was the once-pompous Wheatley, reduced to a flustered mess by a simple wardrobe malfunction.

“Alright, alright,” she chuckled, stepping forward. “Let me help you.”

Wheatley hesitated, his distrust warring with his utter lack of experience with clothing. In the end, though, he grudgingly stepped aside, allowing Chell to approach.

Her touch was surprisingly gentle as she righted the jeans, her voice a low murmur as she offered tips on handling the unfamiliar buckles and buttons. Wheatley found himself stammering explanations, his voice betraying his nerves. He felt… exposed, not just physically but emotionally vulnerable in a way his core form never had been.

Finally, Chell stepped back, surveying her handiwork. “There. Much better,” she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

Wheatley glanced down at himself, a flicker of something akin to gratitude warming his chest. He wasn’t sure what to make of this strange new sensation, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

[sarahowritesostucky]

Pairing: omc x omc Rating: Explicit Tags: oral sex (m! receiving)

Chapter 1: "Talk me into it"

The mornings were growing colder.

Lucas’ boots collected dew and pieces of wet grass as he traversed the short distance from the chicken coop back to the cabin, his breath visible on the crisp morning air. He came in through the laundry room, kicking off his boots and rolling his eyes at the mess of muddy pawprints Verne had left behind on the room's vinyl flooring from his run the night before.

He hung up his coat and went into the house, carrying the wire egg basket into the kitchen. Today the basket was full. The chickens were still producing near their peak. But there would be fewer and fewer eggs as the colder months set in, and out here in the mountains, fall could bleed into winter in the blink of an eye. Come November, they’d be lucky if they got a half dozen eggs every other day.

That wouldn’t be a problem for most people, but most people didn’t eat the way that Lucas and his husband ate. They had to produce the majority of what they consumed, because living out in the middle of nowhere like they did meant that spur of the moment trips to the store weren't an option. Supply runs needed to be planned out and executed with military precision. Good thing Lucas had married a soldier.

Verne was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a plate heaped high with toast and eggs and some of the sausage they’d pulled from the freezer. The cabin smelled heavenly of cooked meats, and Lucas felt his stomach rumble in anticipation. "Mornin'," he hummed, bending to kiss the top of Verne's head as he stole a sausage link off the plate. He bit down and groaned at the pop of skin and rich burst of flavor over his tongue. “Oof. Now that's tasty.”

Verne grunted and swallowed around his mouthful. "Got me this prettyboy husband, kinda knows how to cook."

Lucas snickered as he went to set the eggs by the sink. "Anybody I know?" He'd taught himself how to make linked sausages two springs ago. They always kept at least one of their goats dairy, but the rest were for eating, as were the pigs. Lucas was the one in charge of turning the animals they raised into the meat they ate, because even though Verne would never admit to it, his big squishy heart just couldn’t handle the slaughtering process.

The big lug wouldn’t hesitate to hunt down a deer in the forest and mercilessly rip out its throat, but give him a little barnyard piglet to slaughter and he'd suddenly start reconsidering the importance of bacon. It was equal parts ridiculous and endearing to Lucas, who knew that deep down his mate was a big old softie. He was just covered with an outer shell so thick, he might as well be calcified.

Verne was a hulking six-foot-two, two-hundred-twenty pound alpha werewolf. He was what Lucas liked to call "stupid big," which meant he was intimidating. The gnarly scars that slashed from cheek to hairline on one side of his face added to the effect. If people who met him weren't already cowed by his sheer size or his surly attitude, then the scars usually sealed the deal and guaranteed him a wide berth in public spaces—which was certainly Verne's preference. He hated going into town and only did so when absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, such a time had arrived, and he'd have to eased into the idea.

Lucas returned to stand behind Verne's seated form and began playing idly with the short crop of his hair. “I think I’m gonna try water glassing eggs,” he mused.

Verne grunted. “What the hell’s that?”

“It’s supposed to keep them fresh for up to a year. You just put them on a shelf, no refrigeration needed.”

“That sounds made up.”

“No, it’s a thing. There’s a whole chapter about it in my canning book. I’ll need lime to do it, though.” Lucas rubbed coaxingly behind Verne’s ear with his thumb. “Do you ... think they’d have that in town?”

Verne ignored him.

“We need a bunch more of the Mason jars, too,” he said. The root cellar was nearing its capacity with everything they'd harvested. “A lot of preserving to get through, these next few weeks.”

Verne stubbornly didn’t answer until he’d chewed through another huge forkful of his breakfast. “What makes you think I’m doing the next run? It’s your turn.”

Lucas bent down to nip at his ear, then squeezed his neck in mock dominance. He enjoyed the warning growl he got for his efforts. “Oh, I don’t know,” he purred. “I bet I can come up with a way to talk you into it.” He rubbed the inside of his wrist against Verne’s jaw, scenting him.

Abruptly, Verne pushed his chair back from the table, but he didn’t stand. He turned the chair with a long-suffering sigh and let his arms hang loose by his sides. Very pointedly, he spread his legs wider. “C’mere, then,” he said lowly. “Come ‘talk me into it’.”

Lucas’ pulse picked up, just like it always did when Verne bossed him around. He felt a familiar heat bloom low in his belly at his husband’s words, his tone, his arrogant stare, and most especially at the sight of Verne’s huge legs spread wide and presumptive, straining against the worn-thin flannel of his pajama bottoms. Verne sat there watching, looking smug and amused, but the dark gleam in his eye and the growing bulge between his legs betrayed his interest as he waited to see what his mate would do. Lucas licked his lips and sank to his knees right there on the kitchen floor. He rubbed up and down the tops of Verne's legs, then slid his hands inwards to squeeze at the massive muscle of his inner thighs, feeling the heat of his body radiating through the flannel. When Lucas peeked up at him, Verne was watching with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Go on,” he prodded, voice already slipped down to that lower register that made Lucas’ cock thicken in his own pants. "Take me out."

Lucas hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled, and Verne lifted his hips up just enough to be helpful. The pajamas got pushed down and kicked away, and Lucas’ attention zeroed in on his husband’s gorgeous, half-hard cock. He wrapped his hand around it and played idly, giving a few soft squeezes and strokes, thumbing the foreskin over the head as Verne grew harder. Lucas was a big guy himself and nothing to scoff at, but Verne was bigger than him in every way, including this. Cupping his heavy balls took up Lucas’ entire palm. He rolled them in one hand while he stroked his cock with the other, and eventually Verne lost his patience and started thrusting his hips up into it.

“Gotta say, Babe,” he sighed. “I’m not feeling very 'talked into' anything just yet.”

Lucas looked up, locking eyes with him in a purposeful gesture of dominance.

And Verne, of course, didn’t tolerate it. He grabbed him by the hair, giving a firm scruff. "Mind yourself, boy," he growled, though there was also a sly grin pulling at the edges of his mouth as he said it. He scruffed him again for good measure, making Lucas moan and his cock jerk hard at the show of aggression. As an alpha himself, Lucas was supposed to be wired to hate being dominated by anyone. And usually he did. But with Verne it was different. With Verne, his wires were crossed. Always had been, always would be.

He opened his mouth wide and sank down, taking Verne’s cock inside. It was just as much of a struggle as it always was, an all-consuming invasion of the senses that Lucas relished. He sucked on the head, tasting and teasing with his tongue, stroking the shaft with one hand and massaging the soft weight of his sac in the other.

Verne exhaled shakily from above, both of his hands coming to rest on the crown of Lucas’ head as his hips flexed upwards. “Fuck,” he sighed, pushing a little more forcefully. “Yeah, baby. That’s it. Take a little more."

Lucas did, allowing Verne to push him down until his cock hit the back of his throat. He choked for a second, drool leaking steadily from his mouth and making a mess in the thatch of dark hair at the base of Verne’s cock. Verne growled in satisfaction, his pelvis flexing up again and again, softly fucking Lucas’ face. “That’s it,” he kept muttering. “What a good fuckin’ boy. Fuck, Honey.”

Lucas let himself be spurred on by the deep rumbles and filthy strings of words that his husband threw down at him. He gave into the feeling of being used, those huge hands and flexing hips, the fat head of Verne’s cock bumping against the back of his soft palate every few thrusts. He rubbed Verne’s balls and massaged his half-blown knot, giving as much as he could until it became too intense. He whined, and Verne let him up for air, guiding him to lay his cheek against his thigh while Verne took over with stroking himself off.

“God, you’re pretty,” he husked as he jacked off hard and fast, fingers slipping over the head in a way that made Lucas want to get his mouth right back on him. But Verne held him down when he tried. “Uh-uh, Honey,” he said. “Jus’ hold still for Alpha. Lemme see that mouth.” He was staring down at Lucas’ face, eyes zeroed in on his wet and swollen lips. He used his free hand to thumb at Lucas’ bottom lip, making him smile. “Open,” Verne commanded, breathing heavier as he got close. Lucas did as ordered and parted his lips, presenting the flat of his tongue. Verne groaned and grabbed his hair again, using it to pull him in closer so he could jack off right in front of his mouth. Verne's cockhead and that one, worrying knuckle kept bumping Lucas' tongue. “Shit, Honey,” he gasped. “Oh, fuckyeah. Keep it open.”

Lucas did, and he watched as Verne’s brow pinched and his jaw slackened in pleasure. Seconds later he came, his knot swelling and spurts of hot cum landing all over Lucas’ tongue and lips and chin. He smiled and let his eyes slip closed. It lasted a long time, Verne’s balls jerking and emptying everything they had onto Lucas’ face. Lucas waited it out with one hand massaging Verne’s knot to milk it all out of him, and the other down between his own legs to try and provide some sort of relief.

When Verne was finished, he exhaled hugely and abandoned his cock to cup Lucas’ face. He smiled fondly down at him, not missing how his mate was already touching himself while he knelt there on the floor. Lucas turned his head and kissed his Alpha’s palm, then rubbed his cum-smeared face against the glands at Verne’s inner wrist, right where his registration tattoo was. He could feel the shudder that went through Verne’s body at such a submissive gesture. Lucas peeked up and smiled at him. “So?” he said. “Did I talk you into it?”

Verne laughed and shook his head, but he also reached down to haul Lucas up from the floor and make him stand in front of him. He started undoing Lucas' fly, intentions clear. “You always do,” he muttered wryly. Then he pulled Lucas’ dick out and paid him back in kind.

Thanks for reading! Until the Snow Melts will be available for purchase on Amazon Fall 2024 - L.T. Swann

Until the Snow Melts masterlist

sarah-writes-stucky masterlist

[tony-the-tigers-juicy-armpit]

A Middle Age

The very first feeling, if one could remember their own birth, would be the sliding of wet flesh over their brand new skin to the tune of their mother's screaming. An upsetting thought, prevented by the squishiness of the mortal newborn's brain. Cataclysm is a newborn like anyone once was, but he is born a man. His total non-existence followed immediately by fully formed musculature and mastery of language, coming to being like ice forming in cold water. In free air, he falls hands and knees to the concrete floor. His first feeling is the fear that his kneecaps will break, and his first words are: "Where am I?"

Cataclysm's senses are brought to life. There's an odd beeping pervading the air, a ferrous scent like blood and a taste to match, and a dim but irritating light barely illuminating what his thoughts tessellated for him to be a laboratory.

A hand touched his back, and gently caressed his cold, wet skin. Cataclysm was vexed, but not panicked.

"You are made of something beautiful and new." said the voice attached to the hand. "You are my happiest triumph."

The hand touched a cord attached to Cataclysm's back and tugged it off of him. It fell to the ground with a metallic clank. His lungs cleared, and he heaved as something spilled from his mouth onto the floor. The hands pat his head and helped Cataclysm stand, his new legs not ever having done so.

Upright, he found that he was much taller than the person who helped him, a distinguished, intelligent-looking man, somewhere in his 40s. No hair. A horizontal scar on his forehead. Electric blue eyes.

"Can you understand my words?" he asked.

"Yes." replied Cataclysm.

"Good. My name is Doctor Ryle. I'm not an accredited doctor, I should say. My first name is Doctor."

"Hm."

"How do you feel?" asked Doctor.

"Thirsty and cold, and...primed to know things."

"Impressive faculty. Immediate sense of want and need...what is your name?"

"Cataclysm." he said plainly, only vaguely aware of what that word means aside from being his name.

"Troubling! We'll get to that later."

---

Doctor gave Cataclysm a bathrobe and a pair of sandals, like he'd just come from a spa. He was led through winding stone hallways, the floor pocked with sharp pebbles. They came to a room, which Cataclysm recognized as a "Break Room". There was a woman of navy blue skin sat down, eyes closed, wires from the wall plugged into her.

"Tempest?" Doctor called. He leaned toward Cataclysm- "a previous project of mine. A friend, more importantly."

Tempest opened her eyes and gave Doctor an irritated look, but it softened when she beheld Cataclysm. She popped the wires out from herself and stood up to stretch. Tempest had curly shoulder-length hair of black and silver, silver that matched her foggy eyes. She wore cargo pants and leather boots, but was bare-chested. Cataclysm looked away nervously. Tempest chuckled.

"From when did you load his sense of Forms?" she asked.

"Long ago." replied Doctor.

"Relax, new man. We live in an enlightened age."

"Very well." said Cataclysm, clearing his throat. He continued, "Are you blind?", regarding her eyes.

"Not really. I can see shadow, but very little color. You're pink." Tempest noted. Cataclysm looked at his hands. Certainly redder than Doctor, whose skin was a light gray. Tempest looked at Doctor again.

"So the project is still on?"

"Yes. Which is why I regretfully interrupted your Fyyd Time - I was wondering if you would take our new friend outside."

Cataclysm's eyes lit up at the idea of going outside. He desired fresh air.

"So soon?" Tempest asked.

"Might as well rip the band-aid off." Doctor reasoned.

"Is there something wrong with outside?" Cataclysm asked. Tempest and Doctor laughed together.

---

Cataclysm and Tempest wore heavy protective suits that looked from the outside like they were made of tinfoil, the hood enclosing a powerful gas mask.

"The air is toxic?" asked Cataclysm.

"Yes and no." said Tempest.

She slammed a red button, the door to the compound closed, and the door outside opened.

Lush green grass, wildflowers, butterflies and chirping birds, leaves swaying in the breeze. The pair stepped outside.

"It's beautiful out." Cataclysm said. "Where are we, geographically?"

"A tiny island a quarter-mile off the coast of Crete."

"Why are we wearing these protective suits?"

"My eyes are closed right now. If I open them, the world will change." Tempest explained.

"Go on." Cataclysm encouraged. Tempest nodded, and opened her eyes. Within the cone of her sight, the world was dark and bioluminescent, more like a jungle than a Mediterranean isle. Outside her sight, the world remained as Cataclysm saw it.

"Expectations are layered. I opened my eyes second, so my sight was laid on top of yours. That's why you can see my world." Tempest said.

"What does the world look like when nobody can see it?" Cataclysm asked.

"Dead. Completely. Gray dust and stagnant air. We can see it through security cameras."

"This still doesn't explain the suits."

From nowhere, the landscape changed again, the world turning to glowing sludge and enormous buzzing wasps.

"Ahh!" yelped Cataclysm, startled. "Whose vision is this?"

"Someone on the beach is looking at the island."

Again, a change. Everything became a sunny desertscape, a tall cactus' silhouette overbearing Cataclysm's view.

"Close your eyes for five seconds and reopen them. That will assert your view over the others."

1...2...3...4...5

Cataclysm sighed in relief as his peaceful world returned. He turned to Tempest.

"What happens if two people open their eyes at the same time?"

"The dead world asserts itself."

Cataclysm grunted in confusion and frustration.

"Is this the way the world is supposed to be?" Cataclysm asked.

"No. Long story short, in trying to regenerate the land, this was created by accident."

"What happened to the land in the first place?"

"Too much was taken from it."

Cataclysm took a deep breath, trying to wrap his head around it.

"Why did we come out here?"

"To meet the reason we live on this island. You're going to talk to the Root."

[countlessrealities]

@technodromes sent: 🍷 // Bishop walking into a wasted Rick? (Probably more likely than I think) Send in 🍷 to walk in on my muse wasted || No longer accepting

There's a sound echoing in the corridor, bouncing off its metal walls. It's one of the two voices that, while not belonging to any of the Technodrome's permanent residents, have become part of the noises that can be heard more or less regularly inside the mobile fortress.

However, this time it's not someone shouting out curses or yelling while engaged in a heated match of sharp jabs. It's not even complaints and grumbles, or gruff but perfectly in tune singing. Instead, it sounds awfully like an endless fit of snickering, too high-pitched and garbled to be normal.

Rick is sprawled on what was once a working table, but now half of the tools are on the floor, together with at least eight bottle of...something. From the smell it's easy to tell that their content was some sort of liquor, but judging from the weird symbols...letters?...written on the label, it's definitely not from Earth.

His shoulders are shaking with irregular bursts of badly muffled laughter, while his arms are stretched in front of him, clumsy fingers tinkering with a weird-looking exagonal device. The front of it is open, unhooked cables tumbling out freely.

An off-tune hum leaves Rick's lips as he drops his chin on the table, tongue sticking out as he tries stick out of the wires back in place. His movements are sloppy, betraying how impaired his eye-hand coordination is, and yet his fingers are unexpectedly steady.

Finally, the thin cable slips inside its outlet and he lets out a slurred "f-f-fuck yeah!"...only to almost jump out of his skin when someone clears his throat behind him.

The scientist spins around, far too quickly for his unstable balance, and topples on the ground before he can even land his gaze on the newcomer. His hold on the device doesn't loosen, but he drags down with him a few tools and an empty bottle, which shatters, sending glass shards all around.

His back and nape hurt, or at least they are supposed to, but his senses are too numbed by the alcohol for him to register the pain. Instead, Rick squints, trying to put into focus the figure while the lights blind him from the ceiling.

Morty? No way. The other is far too tall to be his grandson. Not to mention that he isn't wearing anything yellow, just black and white. And...are those sunglasses?

"Ooooh, sh-shit, it's the third...pink ball! M-Morty's squishy buddy!" He exclaims as realisation somehow downs on him. "H-Hey, buddy! F-Funny...uhgh...meeting you here! D-Didn't know...W-Who let you in? D-Don't tell me you sneaked in! Y-You old...fox brain!"

Anything else he might have wanted to say is drowned in a mixture of laughter and giggles. Damn, that's good. He needed someone for...he can't remember. But there was something he wants to do...even if he can't remember that either.

...Oh well, he'll just make it up as he goes. As they go.

"L-Let's...W-We...Mort-...Shit, n-not Morty! W-We gotta go!" He starts saying, struggling to get back on his feet. His free hand is already reaching for the portal gun, so when his legs turn out to be too unsteady to hold him up, all he can do is face planting against the chest of Bishop's android.

"Gmoffaooo!"

The words are too muffled and slurred to make sense, but Rick doesn't seem to care. Instead, he shoots a portal right under their feet and they instantly fall through it.

To go where? Now, that is a great question!

[yeenybeanies]

Me and my transformers nerd friend were talking, and i was ranting about how much i hate the human segments of transformers media (charlie is excused, shes perfect) but m*rk whalbergs character in the later bayverse movies is constantly trying to fight with the autobots with Guns and its dumb, so why are there no goblin humans? Just absolute gremlins laying traps and trip wires(chains) for enemy bots? Hiding behind cars and broken bits of buildings laying traps, and using their silly little monkey brain instead of trying to 1v1 megatron or getting in the way of the autobots and needing rescue. Rant over but i need directors to know humans are rats and are infinitely more useful than just holding a gun

okokok ok so,

i understand what you're saying, but i do not fully agree with you because, for better or for worse, i do like a lot of the human segments of the live action transformers movies --w--

that is to say, almost EXCLUSIVELY in the first movie & in the fourth, because the other three (bay) movies are trash. (the bumblebee movie is not considered here & is also perfect.)

i like cade's role in AoE! i like his fearlessness & his adaptability! sure, it would be interesting if he--or if another human--had been more goblin-like in setting traps & whatnot, but i did like how he was willing to stand up to the big baddies.

in the IDW1 comics, the nearest i can think of a "goblin rat man" human is probably spike witwicky & his role (which is controversial & not everyone likes him, but i Do happen to like him a lot in this continuity). i'd almost be tempted also to say that verity carlo (my favorite human in the entirety of the transformers of any continuity EVER) would fit in this category, but, in reality, she definitely falls more in line with the "i'll take you on my damn self guns a-blazin'" type. considering:

(for those not familiar with the comics, that decepticon there is a sadistic, nigh-indestructible, mass-murdering planet-killer by occupation)

ALL OF THAT ASIDE THO: no i do agree with you in that i would like to see some diversity in the humans we see in the live actions movies. it would absolutely be cool to see some trap-setters & whatnot. i do like when it's shown that humans, despite the squishiness, can be a force to be reckoned with.

EDIT: bruh MIKAELA in the first & second live action films!! (yeah she was mistreated & portrayed as eye candy the whole time but) she was more in line with the trap-setters! less of a "head-on" type when it came to facing the bad guys! god i love mikaela

[senorincognito69]

Beachy peachy mood

Peach, peach, peach.

Manip by Hhhyyyiii

www.deviantart.com/hhhyyyiii/g…

---Text:

The sky was grey.

The Autumn cold had already consumed the heat of Summer.

The vacation was over, but the young woman, still in her swimsuit, stood on the shore, looking out at the sea, not feeling like leaving while her companions packed up the car. Cold waves licked her feet, but that wasn’t what made her shiver.

The weight of a dark hard seed in the middle of her chest.

On top of her head sprouted a pair of tiny green leaves.

Was it really that strange to desire another mundane life other than the human one? To just wish to rest worry free, as a bystander to the passage of the seasons? To reject the stress of the city in favour of the joy of the root?

The leaves thrived in her scalp, growing larger, shaken by the wind like the rest of her hair. She squatted down as she began to shrink and the squishy inflating sounds claimed her rear. The sensible curve of her fit buttocks gently and gradually expanded, round and thick, tugging the swimsuit. Around and beyond that area, climbing her legs and belly, her skin was mutated too, turning into a coat of soft velvet orangey tones.

Peach tones.

Another wave splashed, her name sounded in the distance, something was dropped in the sand behind her. The transforming woman took a glance back with the shine of melancholy in her eyes. She saw the man that was to be the only witness of her end staring back at her deforming form with an open mouth, the same guy whose name was written near the hearts tattooed in the fruit skin covering the tender fruity flesh of her swelling butt.

Her words were an omen.

“I don’t think I’m going back…”

…

With a grunt the peach-woman drops to her knees, the weight of her arse a toll too big to be withstood by her shortening limbs. The chills of the changes made her moan, her ass kept growing, her belly joined in with the swelling and the rest of her seemed to slowly be becoming nothing around the more or less spherical shaping of herself.

Smaller by the second she fell backwards, sliding out of her swimsuit.

The guy she might have loved, witness of her change, was fast enough to reach the fruit woman when some woman still remained in the fruit. So helplessly small she had become that she was easily lifted with two hands while still shrinking into her proper size. The guy could only look down, speechless, shocked, incapable of understanding how or why, or to try and fathom the absurdity of a woman becoming fruit.

Laying on top of those palms the peach-woman continued her metamorphosis. The fruit skin claimed her entire body, her hair fell out, leaving only the green stalk and its two leaves. Limbs tinier than twigs. A moaning face, flattened breasts and gaping vagina stretched in the front surface of the fruity sphere.

With a diminishing  gleeful voice wired with pure lust she spoke her final goodbye without any apology, regret or demure.

“Peeeeeel meeeeh…! Eeeeat meeeeeh…! Plaaaaaant meeeeh…! Leeeeeet…! Leet meeeeh flourishhhhhh into a niceeeeeeeeeeh PEACH treeeeeeeeeeh!”

The peach spasmed with pleasure in the guy’s palms as the unfathomable transformation came to it’s only possible finale. Limbs and tits nothing, a smiling face vanished in velvet, the pussy, gaping in orgasms, spat peachy juices onto the guy’s hands. It wasn’t malice, but the inertia of surprise, which made the guy move his hands when he felt the sticky liquid.

Plop in the sand.

Down there the changes concluded, the wet pussy twitched a final few times before sealing. A single twist of desire on the beach, one single maybe misstep of a whim, all the woman needed to get herself completely gone. All that remained was a ripe tattooed peach, a tasty desirable fruit, that wished nothing else but to grow into a tree somewhere with a good view of the sea. Which isn’t so disgraceful if you stop to consider that most fruits do not get any say in such matters.

This caption was part of a batch of captions from the Shoebox tier of my Patreon. I do not own the rights to the original images, if the owners requests their removal I will remove them. If you would like to help Senor Kinky Studio produce more TFerotica consider using one of these links: www.patreon.com/senorincognito… app.gumroad.com/senorincognito… senorincognito69.fanbox.cc/ ko-fi.com/senorincognito69 And don’t forget to fave, watch and comment! 8D

[monsterfloofs]

Twirls wire, hiii so robots,

Jokes and my absolute love for Castor5 aside, you have another story about a robot having the reader help them after being damaged by reader’s apparent friends. Called reader songbird I think? Do you have anymore info about them? I’m curious about their situation and deeper reasons in the story. And just them in general! If not that’s a-ok! I like them anyways

8O !!!!! YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT V1C3!!! OOOOOOOOOOOOHHH!

Oh yeah! I can totally yammer about the behind the stuff for this one!

Before this account I had the idea for a distopian story that ran along the cliche of humans were seen as obselete and robot folk pretty much took over the role as the higher more important life forms.

Not to say humans didn't have a say or jobs, but the high importance ones like bankers, politicians, ceos anything with a huge amount of authority and power where controlled by mechanics.

Humans were unreliable, humans are too prideful, emotional, biased, immoral, ect. That kind of thinking, was what propelled to having Ai put into these ranks to begin with.

Also the fact that humans can pass away and stop working, while mechinical kind can just, keep getting new parts and upgrading.

So Vice, is one of those top dog mechanicals. They have a big umbrella company that controls quite a chunk of things. They gets what they want, essentially.

So they take a fancy in something, or someone, they get what they want.

The offers they can make are simply too good to refuse. Live in a lavish lifestyle your probably wouldn't be able to ever see? Your family is secured, your life is secured. They are security.

Now there is a group of humans that have gone rouge and trying to get a hand back into having a say and making important decisions.

And if someone was in trouble or held in one of their devil binds, the group would try their damndest to get you out of their deals.

Those were probably the friends.

Now Vice is very, aaaah they definately think highly of themself. And knowing KNOWING they didn't reciprocate in kind at being assulted, means that the role the character plays, (you as the protag in the story) means you have more power over them then they even knows.

Vice does not put up with stuff like that normally. They will try and stamp out any resistence under their heel.

So knowing they didn't mess, and they are a bot of their word. Means that them knowing you probably saved them from his wrath. SKSKSKSKSK

The thing I like about Vice is you are definately the shape of what would be their squishy heart. You can sway their choices and decisions if you don't like something that they do. They would absolutely pamper you within what they feels reasonable. Or what they feels won't put you at risk.

And, hang on, this next bit underneathe is a more nsfw topic. So I added a read more.

👁👁

When I mentioned spoiling and things, that also includes items for intimacy. 👀👀👀 Vice would, absolutely buy the top of the line adult extensions and add-ons give you the absolute best they can afford and offer.

All you need to do is ask. :3c

If that's what their songbird wants, their songbird gets the best.

I don't think they would have cared for that kind of thing before, possibly also seen it as somewhat disguisting because their mightier than thou complexe. 🙄 But they would certainly change their tune being romantic with someone they feels very close and protective of. Like I said, you're their heart! You are the squishy soft part of them, that gives their sleek steel and cold exterior life. Actual life.

And also they would rip that city apart if something happened to you. They're kinda intense. ://)c