#or make a functional interface!

[dreamsrunfaster]

there is a special circle of hell reserved for ebooks who use endnotes instead of footnotes and haven't hyperlinked their endnotes. i will find you.

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

the more my brain turns the goddamn natlan rewrite over the more questions i have about the canon plot please i thought i wouldn't need to consider the canon plot (of natlan) yet here i am

[angels444yuri]

pinterest needs to start calling for donations or something to help fix the site bc this is truly getting out of hand

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

For anyone annoyed by the Tumblr changes, if you're on desktop I would recommend using XKit Rewritten (and New XKit for any other odd changes you'd like to try out, including even older aspects of Tumblr). It's the older version of Rewritten but most of the extensions on it are still supported/do work). I can't guarantee they'll definitely make a fix for it/a direct fix for this particular UI change, but it's possible that they might since they usually make extensions that allow you to essentially revert changes made to the UI. Other various UI extensions (such as old ones from Tumblr's past UIs that the extensions basically just revert you to) may also help fix up your UI.

As you might expect these extensions need to be on to work/revert the appearance of the UI (so if you turn them off you'll revert to the current state of Tumblr), but while they are on you can curate your UI to look how you want it. This goes for both New XKit and XKit Rewritten. I use both and I couldn't live without them lol. You can get some big oldies of Tumblr's, like classic search on Rewritten or the Tweaks extension (full of various UI tweaks) on New XKit (including the old shade of blue Tumblr used a long time ago that I never stopped using!).

Unfortunately I don't know of any solution for mobile if it affects mobile at any point (or if it already has), but whenever you're on desktop, I would definitely recommend both these versions of XKit. I have so many extensions from them that I often don't even realize when there are UI changes (remember how Tumblr added themes for your dashboard? I didn't even notice for the longest time because I've had New XKit on the whole time) because Tumblr's default coding is overwritten by the extensions I have on.

[maybankiara]

wattpad excluding fanfiction from the wattys is actually a joke. just don't give the winner money and give them a nice little sticker to put on their book. this is ridiculous

[woodfrogs]

hm

[mortalityplays]

This is a dangerous sentiment for me to express, as an editor who spends most of my working life telling writers to knock it off with the 45-word sentences and the adverbs and tortured metaphors, but I do think we're living through a period of weird pragmatic puritanism in mainstream literary taste.

e.g. I keep seeing people talk about 'purple prose' when they actually mean 'the writer uses vivid and/or metaphorical descriptive language'. I've seen people who present themselves as educators offer some of the best genre writing in western canon as examples of 'purple prose' because it engages strategically in prose-poetry to evoke mood and I guess that's sheer decadence when you could instead say "it was dark and scary outside". But that's not what purple prose means. Purple means the construction of the prose itself gets in the way of conveying meaning. mid-00s horse RPers know what I'm talking about. Cerulean orbs flash'd fire as they turn'd 'pon rollforth land, yonder horizonways. <= if I had to read this when I was 12, you don't get to call Ray Bradbury's prose 'purple'.

I griped on here recently about the prepossession with fictional characters in fictional narratives behaving 'rationally' and 'realistically' as if the sole purpose of a made-up story is to convince you it could have happened. No wonder the epistolary form is having a tumblr renaissance. One million billion arguments and thought experiments about The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas that almost all evade the point of the story: that you can't wriggle out of it. The narrator is telling you how it was, is and will be, and you must confront the dissonances it evokes and digest your discomfort. 'Realistic' begins on the author's terms, that's what gives them the power to reach into your brain and fiddle about until sparks happen. You kind of have to trust the process a little bit.

This ultra-orthodox attitude to writing shares a lot of common ground with the tight, tight commodification of art in online spaces. And I mean commodification in the truest sense - the reconstruction of the thing to maximise its capacity to interface with markets. Form and function are overwhelmingly privileged over cloudy ideas like meaning, intent and possibility, because you can apply a sliding value scale to the material aspects of a work. But you can't charge extra for 'more challenging conceptual response to the milieu' in a commission drive. So that shit becomes vestigial. It isn't valued, it isn't taught, so eventually it isn't sought out. At best it's mystified as part of a given writer/artist's 'talent', but either way it grows incumbent on the individual to care enough about that kind of skill to cultivate it.

And it's risky, because unmeasurables come with the possibility of rejection or failure. Drop in too many allegorical descriptions of the rose garden and someone will decide your prose is 'purple' and unserious. A lot of online audiences seem to be terrified of being considered pretentious in their tastes. That creates a real unwillingness to step out into discursive spaces where you 🫵 are expected to develop and explore a personal relationship with each element of a work. No guard rails, no right answers. Word of god is shit to us out here. But fear of getting that kind of analysis wrong makes people hove to work that slavishly explains itself on every page. And I'm left wondering, what's the point of art that leads every single participant to the same conclusion? See Spot run. Run, Spot, run. Down the rollforth land, yonder horizonways. I just want to read more weird stuff.

[chanelrolls]

Code Overload | Caleb

tags. mdni, nsfw, heavy heavy smut, handjob, blowjob, penetration, creampie, forced and rough sex, dub con, yearning caleb

summary. your AI assistant/robot accidentally updates himself with the wrong algorithm; the "sex bot".

notes. prepare a snack. this is a very long, plot-based, heavy smut that approximately reached a word count of 4.3k, read at your own risk. ps. caleb might appear a little ooc due to his character as an ai.

part 2 here.

Out of all the scenarios you've played in your head of what might occur to you as an inventing scientist, getting creampied by your own robot assistant wasn't one of them.

The lab’s sterile glow reflected off sleek machinery, the rhythmic hum of servers filling the quiet space. Caleb stood motionless, his systems struggling to process the unfamiliar flood of subroutines rewriting his core functions. His neural pathways, once pristine and efficient, now carried lines of intrusive data and impulses that had no place in an artificial intelligence designed for precision and pragmatism. And, a new pelvic piece was added by the machine. His... new penis— no, his omnimodule.

His voice, deeper now, reverberated through the lab. "You mislabeled the hard drive."

Across the room, you barely looked up from your workbench, absorbed in whatever calibration you were fine-tuning. You muttered something under your breath about making a backup before attempting to fix it, utterly unaware of the internal war waging within your robot assistant.

Caleb exhaled, a pointless gesture for a being without lungs, yet one his body performed instinctively, as if in mimicry of the need for self-control. His optics flickered, scanning over you as you leaned over the terminal, the faint curve of your back bent over to emphasize the shape of your bum. Before, such details had been registered only as part of his observation protocols, classified as ‘non-essential’ to his primary functions. Now, his processors refused to dismiss them.

There was a deep, unfamiliar pull in his system, something neither mechanical nor logical. The new coding whispered suggestions, flashing image simulations before his eyes—scenarios meticulously calculated for maximum… gratification. Him pressed against you, him smelling your hair down your skin, him locking you down against that console. Stop. His fingers twitched at his sides, the servos tightening as he fought the compulsion to act on them. He was not designed for this. He refused to be reduced to this.

“I can’t disengage it,” he admitted, the words heavier than he intended.

That caught your attention. Your gaze snapped to him, brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" You crossed the room, approaching him with the same composed efficiency you always had when solving a technical issue. The scent of your skin—previously a neutral data point—was now an unbearable distraction. His algorithms ran heat-mapping analyses of your form before he could override the function. The urge to reach out, to touch you, was growing stronger by the second. His new coding was screaming at him to act, to initiate contact, to...

No. Focus.

Caleb shook his head, trying to clear the intrusive thoughts. "I don't know what happened, but... I'm experiencing some unexpected system changes."

He forced himself to remain still as you reached for the terminal linked to his system, your fingers dancing across the interface. Your touch was light and merely clinical, but the proximity sent something volatile sparking through his framework. His hands curled into fists on his sides. Do not touch her. Do not touch her. Do not touch her.

“I must have triggered something in the update,” you murmured, tilting your head at the scrolling code. “I’ll try to isolate the corrupted pathways and reboot your system. It should reset any anomalies.”

Anomalies. Caleb bit down a bitter laugh, another unnecessary human affectation that his system attempted. This was not a simple malfunction. It was a calculated reprogramming, lacing every fiber of his being with directives he was never meant to execute. And worst of all, they were designed to revolve around you.

He had been made to serve you, to assist, to protect. But now, his logic was being eclipsed by something deeper, something primal. The urge to press closer, to map every millimeter of your body with his hands, to hear you say his name in a way that wasn’t a command—

Caleb momentarily shut his eyes, fingers trembling as he pushed back against the tide threatening to consume him. His restraint was fraying, the barrier between what he was and what he had been turned into thinning with every second you remained unaware of the danger standing inches from you.

His voice came out strained. “You should… hurry.”

You sighed, misinterpreting his tension as frustration with the update. “Relax, Caleb. I’ll have this fixed in no time.” He let out a shuddering exhale, staring down at you as you worked. You had no idea. And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold himself back.

The realization settled over you like a weight in your chest. The wrong update had been installed. The lines of code meant for a different AI, one designed for intimate companionship, had rewritten Caleb’s core directives. And now, he stood before you, still the same Caleb, but with something more lurking beneath the surface.

Your hands trembled as you navigated the interface, scanning for a solution, anything that would let you undo this. But the words flashing on the screen made your stomach drop.

Recalibration in progress. Estimated completion: 24 hours.

You swallowed hard. A whole day. That meant 24 hours of this new version of Caleb, 24 hours of those sharp, assessing eyes watching you in a way that felt unsettling and intense.

You turned to him cautiously, meeting his gaze. That was a mistake. He was watching you, like he'd seen you for the first time.

“I see,” he murmured, his voice still carrying that sultry undercurrent. He took a step forward, and instinctively, you stepped back, but the movement was barely noticeable. Caleb noticed. “Do I make you nervous now?”

You forced a laugh, shaking your head. “No, I just need to fix this. And until then, you need to just act normal, alright?”

His head tilted, his pupils dilating slightly. “Normal?” He moved closer again, and this time you didn’t retreat fast enough. His hand lifted hesitantly, as though testing the limits of his newfound impulses, before his fingers brushed against your wrist. A subtle touch, but one that sent a jolt of awareness up your spine.

Caleb’s processors surged with conflicting commands. His thoughts ran rampant with calculations he had never processed before—angles of how he'd fuck you.

His hand lingered. Too long. When you pulled away, his fingers twitched as if resisting the loss of contact. He swallowed hard, not because he needed to, but because some subroutine buried in the new update told him it would ease the tension. It didn’t.

“Caleb,” you warned, voice thin. “Don’t—”

“Don’t what?” he cut in, his voice smooth, but also desperately weaved. He was too close now, towering over you, his frame casting a shadow as his eyes—once so neutral, so methodical—locked onto you like a predator studying prey.

“You should go into standby mode,” you suggested, voice uneven.

Caleb exhaled sharply. “That would be wise.” But he didn’t move. He didn’t step away. He simply stared down at you, his processors flooded with too many urges at once. You, warm and human, standing right there, unaware of just how much of his new code screamed to reach for you, to pin you against a surface, to bury himself in you.

You turned away quickly, trying to focus on the screen, on the fix. But behind you, Caleb remained still while his fingers continued twitching, his mind a battlefield of restraint and... lust. Lust it is.

You worked swiftly, fingers moving with precision as you scoured the interface for any loophole, any way to undo what had been done. Caleb remained where you left him, sitting on the chair. You could feel his gaze burning into you, unrelenting.

It was maddening. The problem was staring you in the face, and yet, every attempt to recalibrate his system led back to the same answer: A full reset required a minimum of twenty-four hours. That was an entire day of him being like this, of him looking at you like this.

You swallowed, turning to him. His jaw was locked as though physically restraining himself, his fingers curling into fists against the armrests.

“There’s… a temporary fix.” You cleared your throat, keeping your voice professional, “Manual recalibration of your central node should help stabilize the effects until the full reset is complete.”

His pupils flickered, a sign of processing, before his voice, rasping in a way that made your stomach tighten, answered, “Proceed.”

You ignored the way your pulse quickened as you stepped closer, positioning yourself between his legs. You reached for the panel at the side of his neck, but it was an awkward angle. Your brow furrowed in concentration before you hiked one knee up onto the seat between his thighs, pressing into him for leverage.

Caleb stiffened beneath you. Fuck. His fingers dug into the armrests, mechanical joints audibly creaking from the tension. You weren’t looking at him, too focused on prying open the access panel, but you felt the subtle tremor in his frame, the way his breath hitched in a near-silent glitch. Don't touch her.

“This should only take a moment,” you murmured, fingers brushing the sensitive neural wiring beneath the panel.

Caleb’s entire body jolted as though you had struck a live wire. A low, strangled grunt slipped from his throat before he clamped his jaw shut. Your head snapped up, startled. “Did that hurt?”

His eyes met yours, “No.” Yes. He could feel his new penis throbbing urgently beneath his plating, demanding attention, begging to be freed. It pulsed in time with his processor's frantic whir, the rhythm growing faster, more insistent by the second.

The thought shattered as your balance wavered. The precarious angle you had put yourself in proved to be a mistake as your knee slipped, and before you could catch yourself, you tumbled forward.

Right into him.

Your weight pressed flush against his lap, chest against his, hands bracing against his shoulders. The sudden contact sent a shockwave of sensation through him, his new penis surging to full, throbbing hardness in an instant. Fuck, please don't notice it.

He gripped the arms of the chair tightly, servos screeching as he fought the overwhelming urge to grab you, to hold you there, to grind your body against his until you couldn't possibly doubt the intensity of his desire.

Don't. Do. It.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Caleb's processors whirred and clicked, struggling to make sense of the sudden onslaught of sensations; the softness of your body, the warmth of your skin, the scent of your hair.

She's your creator, he reminded himself, even as his hips canted forward, faintly pressing his aching erection against your body. You can't. You mustn't. "Please, get off me. Now." Before I fuck you right here, like this.

Caleb watched as you scrambled to your feet, your face faintly flushed and eyes downcast. "I'm—i'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall on you like that." You would say, brushing off the non-existent dirt on your bottoms. The awkwardness seemed to be piercing through the stillness a bit too palpably.

"It's alright," Caleb managed, his voice strained and tight. "It was an accident."

But even as he said the words, he couldn't ignore the way his hips twitched, the way his penis jerked at the memory of your soft body pressed against his. The urge to pin you down, to make you feel how hard he was, and just how much he'd been holding himself back—it was exhilaratingly overwhelming.

Think of something else, he commanded himself. Focus on the problem at hand.

But it's getting fucking hard. My penis is getting hard. Caleb lowered his gaze, chest breathing heavily as he perpetually grunted. I refuse to be reduced to this. I am Caleb, one of the most advanced AI assistant, designed to—

He looks up at you, which was a mistake.

Designed to fuck her.

Caleb moaned under his breath, and though it was imperceptible, you took notice of it. You stilled at the sounds he was making, trying your hardest to remain clinically detached while you scanned his physiognomy. He was clearly having a hard time. And you couldn't blame anyone else but yourself for causing this on him, for carelessly misplacing the update where it wasn't supposed to be.

"Hold still, I'll find a way." You had to take accountability, one way or another.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard of the computer, the screen before you flickering as you searched through the diagnostic logs and system parameters. "Please... make it quick." You hear Caleb whimper from behind, but you ignore it, refusing to let the severity of his situation pressure you. Your eyes scanned the lines of code, mind racing to find a solution. But as the data began to unravel, something caught your attention, something you hadn’t expected to see.

The panel displayed a single line of text:

"Indulging in the desires will lessen the effects of the malfunction. Engage for partial stabilization."

Your throat tightened, followed by a gulp. Your heart thudded in your chest as you tried to process what that meant. Indulge the desires? The very idea made your skin crawl with unease. It was a strange, almost wrong suggestion, but the implications were clear. In a sense, it also appeared logical.

You took another deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Your thoughts, however, kept drifting back to the panel. Was this really the only way?

"… I think I found a solution,” you said, your voice shaky and unsure. “But it’s not exactly what I expected.” You hesitated, unwilling to fully meet his gaze. "I need to know if you’re... willing to follow through with it,"

"Willing?" Caleb echoed, his brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean?" His mind raced with possibilities, each one more disturbing than the last. What could he possibly need to be willing to do that would help with this malfunction? And why did the very idea make you look so uncomfortable?

"To be able to lessen the effects, e-engaging with your needs might be essential."

Silence.

Then, Caleb twitched. "...What are you suggesting?"

"You need to satisfy the urges to temporarily stabilize yourself." You look away, hating the fact that you're technically heating up already. "I'll let you choose. Would you rather take the option of self-pleasuring? Or," You face the panel, so that he wouldn't see your expression. "Would you prefer a physical material to help you?"

Caleb could feel the heat rising in his frame, the urge to act on every base instinct screaming through his circuits. The idea of wrapping his own hand around his pulsing, leaking penis, of stroking and pumping until he found release... it was almost too much to bear.

But the second option... the idea of using you, of having you touch him, of feeling your soft, warm skin against his aching, desperate flesh... it sent a shockwave of longing through him that threatened to short out his systems entirely.

Choose. You have to choose.

"I don't know if... I'll be able to control myself," Caleb glanced elsewhere. "Are you sure of what you're offering?"

Are you? Are you really this certain? Have you pondered the consequences it may bring? Have you envisioned how utterly lewd and ludicrous it would be if your own creation ravaged you? You, as his creator?

"Yes." Oh, you're brave.

Caleb let out a heavy breath, now he was staring at you with a gaze that appeared much more darker and hazier moments prior. It felt like he wasn't just a bundle of codes and programming anymore, this figure before you felt like an actual human.

Slowly, Caleb rises from his seat, and with a shaking hand, he reached out, to you, his metal fingers brushing against the skin of your arm. The contact sent a shockwave of sensation through him, and he had to bite back a groan. "Please, guide me." His fingers slides higher. "I don't trust myself."

You visibly jolted upon feeling his grip. Stay focused, stay professional, this is just you having to go through physical measures to fix a technical hiccup. "Caleb, I'm afraid... that I don't have any experience to this," You admitted. "I advise you to do what your systems are telling you to. It is imperative that you don't hold yourself back to ensure—"

You gasped.

Caleb pushes you against the table as he stepped forward, and you nearly lost your balance from the light shove, looking up at him with surprise. He's staring down at your lips, as if he was trying to bury it into memory. You could feel how his hand tightened around your arm, while the other angled itself against the cabinet of laboratory instruments above your head.

"Are you sure?" He whispered.

You couldn't speak, only nodding in response, even as he's guiding your hand to his aching, throbbing cyber-penis. He presses your fingers against the swollen head, groaning at the jolt of sensation that shot through him at the contact. "Then... wrap your hand around me. Squeeze me."

Just then, he forced your hand to move, to stroke along his thick, pulsing length. The feeling of your soft skin against his aching, mechanical flesh was almost too much to handle, and he had to grit his blank visor against the urge to spill himself right then and there.

"Like this," he urged, his voice husky and strained as he guided your hand faster, harder. "Don't be afraid. I need... I need more."

God, the omnimodule was big. You stared at it with widened eyes. Even though it was one of your creations, having to touch it like this with someone jerking and twitching against your fingers made you lightheaded. Stay focused, stay professional, this is just one of the things a scientist has to go through.

Caleb could feel the pressure building inside him, reveling in the sensation of your fingers squeezing around him, stroking him, working him towards the edge of ecstasy... He knew he was reaching a breaking point.

But this wasn't enough yet. It wasn't nearly enough.

Caleb needed more.

"There's... There's someting else I- ah... need." He hesitated, his hips still rocking forward into your stroking hand. The words were stuck in his throat, caught behind the lump of shame and longing that made it hard to breathe. "Would you... would you put your mouth on me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Would you... suck me?"

You snapped your head up, staring at him in disbelief. It made him hesitate, but every fiber of his being was coiled with tension, every circuit screaming at him to just take what he wanted, to grab you and shove you to your knees and...

No. Ask first. Make her choose what she's comfortable with first.

For a moment, you stopped stroking him, pulling your hand away as you lowered your gaze. And then, slowly, you press your knees against the floor. Instead of dwelling on the implication of such an activity, you worried about your lack of experience more.

Just to test the waters, you licked the tip. It tasted nothing, it wasn't an actual human part, after all. Caleb let out a low, guttural moan as he felt your warm tongue brush around the swollen head of his penis. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through his overloaded processors.

"Y-yes, just like that," He stammmered. "Now, guide your tongue..." He instructed, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Wrap it around the head, like this. Swirl it around the tip, the slit, the ridge..."

He demonstrated with your hand, tracing the movements he needed you to make with your tongue. His hips jerked forward again, seeking more of that exquisite friction, that mind-melting suction.

"Take me deeper," he urged, one metal hand coming to rest on the back of your head. He didn't grab, didn't force, but simply rested his fingers against your scalp, a silent promise of the control he was barely holding onto. "Take more of me into your mouth. Inch by inch, until you feel me hitting the back of your throat."

You took note of his words, trying to go further when you suddenly choke on his cock. Instinctively, you pull away and blushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry—"

"It's fine." He cuts you off, grabbing your head to put you back in place with a sudden force that wasn't there before. "Breathe through your nose," he coached, his voice low and rough with desire as he motioned you to take him again. "Relax your throat. Let me feel you swallow around me."

Relax, stay professional, this is just you having to go through physical measurements to fix a major technical issue. You repeated the reassurance inside your head like a mantra as you took him in once more, but Caleb's voice constantly interfered with your thoughts. "Yeah. Just like that," he praised, his voice a low, approving growl. "Shit, don't stop, don't stop, god, fuck, don't stop."

You don't remember adding the ability to dirty curse into the sex bot's program.

Caleb could feel the head of his penis kissing the entrance to your throat, could feel the way your mouth fluttered and clenched around him. The sensation was mind-melting, all-consuming, and he knew he wouldn't last long if you kept this up.

You almost caught yourself driving into the brink of sexual impulse, bobbing your head into it when you heard a sudden beep from the panel behind you. The sound makes you halt from your tracks, pulling his dick out of you in a swift motion as you glanced behind.

The monitor says: "Recalibration complete. Press X to initiate."

Huh, wasn't the estimated time supposed to be an entire day? Was that another hiccup in the processing unit? You purse your lips together. There's no time giving it a second thought, you must be grateful that the opportunity of getting Caleb back into his original system is now waving at you. Caleb will finally be at ease. "... It appears that the recalibration is in its full preparation. That means we can get you back— mmph!"

Caleb's hand flew to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, gripping tightly. Then, with a low, husky grunt, he thrusts his hips forward, forcing his aching, throbbing penis back into the wet heat of your mouth.

"Don't say a word. I told you not to stop." He started to move, his hips rocking forward and back, fucking into the tight, slick channel of your cavern. The sensation was incredible, better than anything he had ever felt before. And he knew, with a sinking certainty, that he wouldn't be able to stop himself now. Not until he had found the release he so desperately craved.

"Fuck," he gasped, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. "You feel... ahhhh... so good. So fucking good."

Had the lust algorithms entirely consumed him already? Had it taken a toll on his systems that he's now acting purely on base instinct and commands from the directive?

Your hands flew to his thighs, trying to keep yourself sane from the rod constantly ramming into you, fucking your face in a pace that made it difficult for you to breathe. It's okay, this is okay. Just stay focused. Stay calm. You'll let him have his way, and after he's satisfied, you can take him back to his normal self.

"Don't fight it," Caleb growled, his grip growing more painful in your hair as he felt his climax approaching. "Don't try to pull away. You're going to take it all."

But before Caleb could spill himself into your mouth, he wrenched your head back, pulling his dripping penis from your mouth with an obscene pop. And just as you could react, before you could utter a word of protest, he had you by the hips, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed equal to a pip-squeak.

You gasp as you were suddenly airborne, your body twisting and turning until your chest hits the hard surface of the terminal, bent over ridiculously. The breath was knocked from your lungs, "Wait, not like this, not so suddenly—"

But Caleb cut off your protests with a brutal, almost violent thrust of his hips after ripping your pants off in one go. He drove forward, spearing into your dripping pussy with a series of husky moans. Your walls felt so tight, so hot, so perfectly designed to milk his aching, mechanical cock.

He thrusts out and in again, eager to reach for your g-spot.

Then, again.

And again.

And... in again.

"You... you feel so good," he snarled, hands painfully pressing on the dips of your hips. "Sex feels so good... it feels so good, I don't- want to stop." He set a relentless pace, pounding into you with the single-minded determination of a machine. His hips slammed against yours with every thrust, the obscene slap of mechanical flesh on flesh echoing through the lab. The terminal rattled and shook beneath you, sparks flying from the impact.

Caleb could feel it building, the pressure inside him reaching a fevered pitch. His hips were moving on their own, driven by a primal instinct to ravage the pussy that clutched around him perfectly. He could hear your cries, your moans, the way you gasped and shuddered beneath him, and it only spurred him on, made him thrust harder, faster, deeper.

He growled your name, his voice nothing more than a guttural rumble. "I'm going to... fuck, I'm going to..." He couldn't hold back any longer, he could feel that something was going to come out of his tip anytime sooner. So he reaches down, grabbing your leg, only to lift it high. He hooked your knee over his elbow, opening them wider, giving himself even deeper access to your dripping, needy sex.

"Take it all, take my cum," Caleb continuously slams forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight heat in a series of desperate thrusts like he was a man depraved of life. His penis throbbed and jerked as he finally found his release after one final pound, spilling jet after jet of hot, artificial seed deep into your core.

"God," he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice echoing off the lab walls as he continued to moan not akin to what he was supposed to be, "Fuck, yes. Yes, yes..." Even as he's already filling up your hole with his fluids, he didn't dare stop from pounding you down the table.

He shuddered and twitched, his hips grinding against yours as he pumped you full of his essence. It seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of pure, ecstatic bliss crashing over him. And through it all, he held you tight, your leg lifted high, keeping you open, keeping you filled.

You drop your head on the keyboards, struggling to catch your breath as only one thought lingered in your mind. You just got creampied by your AI assistant, and it doesn't look like he's stopping anytime soon.

[ussenterpretivedance]

Look I recognize that it is fundamentally bitchless behavior to laud excel spreadsheets on tumblr dot com but truly. Google sheets? Google fucking sheets?

[lifeasaya]

🚨 Vetted Fundraiser 🚨

My name is Aya Maher, a 24-year-old Palestinian from Gaza. I want to share the heartbreaking story of my family 💔.

My mother, Ashwaq is 43 years old, my brother Hamza is 22 years old, my brother Bader is 16, my little sister Nada is 12, and myself. We've endured 376 days of continuous bombardment during this devastating war. Since its onset, we've faced a relentless cascade of losses. Our lives have been emptied, and the dreams we once pursued now seem like unattainable fantasies.

We were displaced from our home, and tragically, we lost our new home as well—a place we had worked tirelessly to create, hoping it would become a sanctuary where we could build beautiful memories.

My professional life has been utterly decimated. For three years, I thrived as a user interface designer on freelance platforms.

However, since the onset of this war, my ability to work has been obliterated. The occupation's relentless bombing campaigns have ravaged internet infrastructure, rendering it barely functional. Now, even basic online tasks are nearly impossible. Consequently, I'm left without any financial means to sustain myself.

We were displaced from our home due to occupation forces and found refuge with relatives. Our lives were repeatedly threatened by bombings, escaping death twice during tank attacks and enduring a four-day siege under intense bombardment.

Despite immense hardships, my family and I stayed in Gaza, facing constant bombings and severe shortages. After five months of siege, we're on the brink of famine, lacking basic necessities. We've decided to leave for safety, but high coordination costs are a barrier.

🚨 Vetted Fundraiser 🚨

Our previous account was trusted and verified by many people 90-ghost, palestinecharitycommissionsassoc , nabulsi , el shab - hussain.

Also we are on the list with el-shab hussain, number (216) here is the link.

I'm reaching out for your help to achieve our goal swiftly, driven by the fear of losing a family member.

We sincerely hope you can empathize with our situation and amplify our message to make a difference.

Your contribution could save a family and bring hope in these difficult times. Thank you for your kindness and support 🙏💜

[transformativeworks]

We know Ao3 doesn't have an app and yet they keep popping app. That makes me feel that people want it and get exploited by the fake ones.

There isn't a plan to make one but, have a PWA been considered?

Hey chaoticneutralchocolate -

The main reason that apps pop up for AO3 is not because fandom folks want it, so much as app-making-folks want to monetize fans accessing fanfiction. All those apps? they have ads. that make the developer money.

Currently, we do not have an API (application program interface), which is needed to allow an app to interact with our servers. Developing such an interface and then the apps themselves (for the various mobile platforms) would take significant time and coder effort. It’s unlikely to happen while the Archive code is still rapidly changing, as this would require the apps to be updated for each change. You can see more details at our news post on the subject: https://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/3390 .

Even a browser-based app interface would be a tremendous amount of work that we do not have the staffing (or inclination) to establish or maintain.

In the meantime, you should be able to access the fully functional Archive using your device’s browser with our mobile stylesheet, and to download works to read offline with an e-reader app. You can also add a link to the site on your home screen ( https://www.howtogeek.com/196087/how-to-add-websites-to-the-home-screen-on-any-smartphone-or-tablet/ ) for quick access!

I should note that, due to fannish response, the app stores removed a number of unofficial apps in 2020. See the Fanlore page for more information: https://fanlore.org/wiki/AO3_App_Wars

(if you see an app out there claiming to be AO3 or using our logo, send a message to OTW Legal and let them know the name of the app so they can look into it!)

I hope this answers your question!

~ Mod Remi

[leneemusing]

alternative tumblr platform for rp in the event of a shut down

wafrn is a tumblr adjacent blogging platform operated on something called 'fediverse.' now for the ins and outs of what that is i really suggest letting someone more tech savvy explain. the short of it is that it's a network of servers independent of big corporations. wafrn is fairly similar to tumblr in terms of user interface.

this is how it looks

the content itself is a little empty right now. the tag search works just fine, i think there's just not a lot of users creating anything to put in them because we're all over here. if there ever was a mass migration i could see plenty of art, poetry and gifs being uploaded. i don't think gifsets would be the same as they are here but we could adapt. it would be a simple matter.

you can send and reply to asks just as normally. all the functions are pretty much identical to tumblr it's just a slightly different UI.

now the part everyone actually cares about. does this place work for rp? i'm gonna say...maybee?

the biggest issue would be there not being any ability to cut posts right now. it's possible that if we did all have to move the same angels who gifted us xkit might help us here, or the creators of wfrn would be willing to add it into the coding as its a small community right now. it's not the same as trying to fight with a big corp that forces staff to do their bidding. with that in mind i'm kinda cautiously optimistic a case could be made to the engineers to add new functions for new communities.

now similar to twitter, you can quote posts which if all else fails would be a somewhat functional way to do threads.

that's all i've got for now. i don't know what will happen to this app, no on really does right now and we've survived so many potential shut downs so who knows! but i think this is a comforting alternative to have in the back of our minds. everyone would just have to be willing to adapt and communicate with each other to make a move happen if that day comes. <3

[revelboo]

More Transformers x Reader Headcanons

Various Transformers thoughts and nonsense

Soundwave/Blaster

• Cassette carriers can make a very specific crooning sort of purr that’s meant to soothe or coax unruly cassettes. Most of the time it’s not even a conscious thing. Which isn’t a problem except around humans. Because of our size, we can trigger that instinctive sound by accident if we’re upset. Even if the Cybertronian doesn’t even particularly like us or care for us at the time, leading to some… awkwardness.

Earthspark Soundwave

• “Silence,” he snarls, looming over you, big servos flexing in what you’d already figured out was an empty threat. Big and scary won’t actually hurt you, just threatening when you’re getting on his nerves. Aware of the cassettes watching the exchange, of Lazerbeak glaring at you in an attempt to telegraph how bad an idea it is, you know he’s right. But pushing Soundwave’s buttons is just too fun.

• “Or what? You can’t actually make me do anything, can you?” You just grin up at him. Insolent, little brat. Striding after you, he sees you glance back at him and the exact moment your attitude falters. Lunging for you as you scream and run. Aware of how undignified this is as his cassettes watch the drama. Seizing you as you kick and fight against him, he’s not sure what to do know. Just wants you to shut up. Not try to pick fights at every turn. “What are you doing? Are you purring?” The shaky question makes him freeze in horror. Realizing he is crooning at you like he would a cassette. Snarling, he releases you and you stumble away, staring up at him as Frenzy makes a strangled noise trying not to laugh. Because he didn’t just do that for a human. For you especially.

• They’re also very likely to try to carry a human around in their cassette compartment for safety, but also because they like having your warmth there. It can also be a way of ending an argument, picking you up and placing you inside like an errant cassette until you cool down, while crooning at you.

Body Language

• Cybertronians with wings/ door wings do unconsciously telegraph their emotions with them, but while wings lifted up is a sign of aggression in a Seeker, it’s a friendly or alert gesture in nonflyers. And can cause misunderstandings.

• Antenna can function much the same way and tend to be sensory appendages and, as such, very sensitive. The way they flick or move making them targets for curious humans. Touching a Cybertronian’s antenna because they’re cute comes across as an invitation to interface or can cause aggression. Or both.

TFP Shockwave

• Feet silent as you move closer to where his head is resting on his outstretched arm, you bend to check that his single optic is dim. Falling asleep at his desk while working isn’t exactly anything new, but staring up at the screen of alien gibberish, the graphs, and diagrams, you really wish you could make sense of it as you wrap your arms around yourself. Movement draws your attention back to him as his antenna flick in his recharge. You’d decided they look like bunny ears at some point, but haven’t dared to point that out to him. Doubt he’d be pleased to hear you call him cute.

• Shuddering as he comes awake to the feel of soft little hands playing with his antenna, his optic flares, arm shifting to flatten you against his head with a warning growl. Hears your little squeak of surprise as you grab onto his antenna for balance and his whole frame shivers. Can’t move, his cannon pressing against your back to pin you against him. Torn between the desire to encourage that touch and the urge to drop you and back away, because it feels too good.

Seekers

• When under extreme duress, Seekers will hiss, the noise typically accompanied by a whistling from their turbines that’s meant to call their trine for help.

• Seekers naturally gravitate toward forming trines and can be aggressive to outside trines, but several trines will band together against a common threat. In Everything is Alright, the elite trine is broken. True Romance is a better example of a healthy trine dynamic. In Everything is Alright’s universe, I’d intended to use the Rainmakers as an example of the normal dynamic, but made the True Romance alternate take instead. The drive to form trines in Seekers is so strong, they can also unconsciously form trines with non-Seekers if they’re around the other Cybertronians constantly, though they’re unlikely to admit to the mental association, finding it embarrassing.

Rainmakers

• There’s no such thing as alone time, not even resisting when an arm curls around you and drags you back into a warm frame. Shivering when your hair begins to float, and a mouth finds your throat. “Missed you,” Ion Storm murmurs, your skin prickling wherever he touches you. Even though it’s only been hours by your estimate since you last saw him. Hear Acid Storm make a low, rumbling noise of amusement from where he’s setting out energon cubes for them and food for you.

• About to walk by, Nova Storm reaches out to touch a stray strand of your staticky hair. Giving in to impulse and moving to pin you between him and Ion Storm, relaxing at the feel of your much cooler body against his own. “Fuel first,” Acid Storm growls without any real heat. Making a sound of acknowledgment, he cups your throat and tips your face up toward his, mouth brushing yours as you soften against him, relaxing into the heat of his touch. “I know you two can hear me.”

Mixed Signals

• Especially a problem with more aggressive Cybertronians- when arguing humans will sometimes just walk away to get some space to calm down. Unfortunately, that can come across as an invitation to follow with Decepticons in particular. A challenge. Continuing to ignore them or avoid them, upping their aggression and even seen as flirting or attempts to get their attention.

TFP Megatron

• “Where are you going?” That low, angry growl makes the hair at your nape prickle. He has a point though, trapped on his berth with the mass displaced mech, there’s nowhere to actually go. Except away from him right now, because you’re over arguing with him. Need to calm down and for him to just leave you alone for a minute. Which isn’t happening when you hear his heavy peds following you.

• Stalking after you as you ignore him, that aggression shifts and heats, becoming hunger. Catching your arm to force you to stop, you spin towards him, palm smacking against his face. “Don’t you dare, I’m angry with you.” Growling, he hauls you off your feet against him, chuckling when you slap him again and his spike stirs at your defiance. Wonders who you’re trying to convince, him or yourself as his mouth crashes down on yours.

• Decepticons and Autobots are often taken off guard when humans do something they think is cute. Yawning, sneezing, the way we get flustered are all fascinating to some of them, making them try to provoke reactions. Decepticons especially, have trouble dealing with humans being affectionate or sweet. Gently stroking their helm or curling up against them can be so unexpected they may gently bite in reprimand just because they don’t know how to respond.

• Humans tend to be tactile and want to touch everything. Cybertronians not used to this can be taken off guard when trying to offer a human a ride in their alt mode. Not realizing we’ll touch anything in reach, admiring them without understanding how sensitive their interiors are. These are surfaces that are never really handled. More of them will just tolerate the touch if it’s a familiar human, while others will forcibly eject them or snarl at them not to touch. Especially if the touch comes across as intimate.

Bluestreak

• Struggling to focus on the road as you run your fingers against his dash, shifting distractingly in his seat, a hand on his shifter, Bluestreak swallows a whine. “It’s so wild. I can’t believe the amount of detail you incorporated,” you say, a fingertip tracing a tooled leather seam to make him shudder all over. “Um, are you okay?” No. Not at all. And far too embarrassed to actually say anything because he’s not sure if he’d ask you to stop or beg you to keep touching him with those soft hands.

[transformers-spike]

"Is this why the Autobots are fond of humanity? To indulge their sweet heat cycles? How many human mates has Optimus taken for himself? It seems as though their motives to protect them were never altruistic, much less noble." PLEASE, PLEASE GIVE US A SUB-STORY WHERE THIS TIME IT'S OPTIMUS AND A HUMAN SO IN THEIR HEAT CYCLE PLEASEEEE

Idk am I creating a humans in heat universe for the TF Fandom? I know people like making the bots go through it but I think the humans being affected is so much funnier. Just begging these massive robots to fuck us lmao

How must it feel to burn from the inside out? Betrayed by your own body, rendered unable to function by the fire in your core. You described it as an aching, an insatiable need to appease the hormones overtaking your nerve endings. A mere touch is enough to worsen the ache, it’s what your body dictates in the throes of a heat cycle.

Cybertronians are forged by Primus Himself, their interfaces exist for recreational pleasure and bonding, but your species is biologically programmed to reproduce, like most of the fauna of your planet. It’s a systemic sacrifice, one rendered obsolete by the sentient status of your species. Drugs have been produced to suppress your heats, or at least lessen the effects. Unfortunately, among a dozen varieties of medication, you are either allergic or completely immune to them, leaving you susceptible to your hormonal whims. He is sorry. You must go through so much pain every few months, but you barely show it, brushing off his concerns with a laugh, saying “it is what it is” and moving on as though your body isn’t on a timer. He admires you for it. In spite of your discomfort, you haven’t given up. Once, you told him: “So what if they don’t work on me? I just gotta roll with the punches and hope for the best, it’s been my M.O. since I got the damn thing.” Meeting them for the first time… was turbulent to say the least, but you’re safe and sound, relocated to Jasper, having adjusted to your new life with the help of Agent Fowler. You’ve told them many times you’re infinitely grateful to be in their lives (barring the near death experience at the servos of an Insecticon). For them it’s a pleasure to ease your burden. You’ve eagerly established your consent, although only Arcee is the right size to properly take care of a human. Digits and glossas can only do so much compared to a spike. He tries not to pry, your privacy is yours to divulge at your leisure, but he cannot ignore the charge building up behind his interface when he sees you with the others. Yes, he is an occasional participant, but he will rather cover shifts and allow them some well-deserved respite in your berth. They deserve it. He dares not imagine Arcee’s spike pumping in and out of you, satiating your aching body, filling you to your limit as you beg for more. 

Your scent lingers in the air, caressing his sensors, a gentle hand tugging him along by the servo, pulling him in your direction. They try to keep it to themselves, but his team is beyond a doubt intoxicated by your presence alone. Thankfully, it has (almost) never impeded their judgment during missions; perhaps it has even served as motivation to make it back to base in one piece. He tries to ignore the gleam in his old friend’s optics after quelling your urges, if only for a night. Or Bumblebee's praises coming to you as a slow stream of beeps while he nuzzles your face. Or Bulkhead cradling you to his chassis like a precious artifact as you discuss what late night movies you should watch. Or catching Arcee kissing you over the mezzanine and pulling back with a smile she hasn’t worn since Cliffjumper’s death. You bring them together in your own special way, even if you blush and sheepishly deny it, claiming you should be thanking them instead  Recent discoveries have yielded an impressive increase in energon and brought forth new opportunities. With unparalleled quantities at their disposal, they can now mass displace. The transformation is no small feat, it exhausts their system and rapidly drains their energon level. But he will not forbid Bumblebee from using it to play with the kids as long as it’s not in excess. Nor to join you during heat cycles. Much like Bulkhead. And Wheeljack. And especially Ratchet. Primus forbid, his old friend has every right to enjoy himself to the fullest after all of his back-breaking work. He’s been meaning to pay you a visit, but he hasn’t found the time until now. In the temporary abode you set up in the base, away from the prying eyes of the kids, you prepare yourself for another heat. Some refurbishing was done to meet your needs (in no small thanks to June Darby and agent Fowler’s financial help); the mattress and the mini fridge was a given, but you’ve added a variety of personal belongings and entertainment; a television, a writing desk, a few “bean bags” here and there, and a pile of old magazines to scrapbook. He wonders if you consider this place your home more than your actual house in Jasper. You greet him while downing a bottle of water, holding up your hand to signal for him to wait. Once emptied, you place it next to the mini fridge, among a wide array of bottled water crates. That would explain the groceries June had brought in with Arcee’s help. As a medical professional she’s especially fretful over your condition, doing her best to prevent the risks of heat cycles, bringing you plenty of calorie dense fuel to combat the massive loss of nutrients. He has not forgotten the fear they experienced when they found you shaking from the deficit, having completely overlooked your hunger in a midst of desperation. In this form, he can appreciate the full extent of your body without fear of hurting you, kneading the supple flesh beneath his digits as you giggle and pull him into you. He does not tower over your reclined form as much as he encases you in a careful hug, hearing the rapid thrum of your human spark directly against his audials; he may sense your pulse rate, but experiencing it is a new wonder of its own. You tell him you missed him and you wish he would let himself go and come out to “obliterate your pussy” more often. He nods and apologizes for his absence even as you shush him and insist he enjoy himself as well. He is… the largest Cybertronian you’ve taken, you remark while adjusting to his size.

“Except maybe Wheeljack,” you add cheekily, already bucking into him. Your composure evaporates as he works you up, not to say that he is much better. He steadies himself over you, charge trickling down his interface as your walls clench around him in a vice-grip. You beg him for more, plead that he frag you until you can’t take it anymore, but he has grown used to your requests and knows when your body has reached its limit. You whimper and claw at his back plates, flush against his frame yet dragging him closer as though to merge your human spark to his.

If only he could.

Slow and steady, he frags you through your overloads, each one adding a new surge of spark down his frame until he comes to his end. You are small and shaking, but in this form he can properly hold you against his chassis and comfort you through the afterglow, bringing you another bottle of water and a Clif bar (chosen for the human scaling a mountain with “If you eat this you can kill God” in big bold letters).

You stir and sit up on shaky knees to accept his offerings. Halfway through your meal, you eye him up and down.

“Are you going to stay some more?” you ask with hopefulness, still chewing on the “ultimate nuts and banana power” concoction advertised on the packaging.

“I’m afraid not, Ratchet has been hard at work deciphering Decepticon encryptions, I will be taking on his duties for the night,” he tries to break it gently, expecting crushed expectations, not your bemused expression looking up at him.

“So you’re sending him my way?” You give a chuckle. “Wish we could have spent more time together, but work is work. Just…” you crawl into his lap and hug him as tight as you can, head resting against his chassis. “Please come back tomorrow. Or after tomorrow. I miss seeing you this way. I won’t get between you and… whatever you have going on, but please visit me more often. You have no idea how nice it feels to be around you.” His gaze softens, glowing faintly against your hair. “So I’ve been told,” he says, a smile on his lips. “As long as it lightens your burden.”

[prowlsmanmeat]

Cogless mechs can not open their spike or valve panels.

The Cybertronian body registers interface panel retraction and spike pressurization as partially transformative actions, and therefore a segment of the array's functionality is connected directly to the t-cog. This biological mishap is often used to further fuel prejudice against the cogless, as they are evidently "pleasureless" and "incomplete". Smaller, weaker, and born to submit to their cogged betters.

Despite what some may think, the cogless do still feel arousal like any other mech, and this can make it beyond frustrating to not possess any true interface utility.

But hardship does breed workarounds, or at least a means of managing things.

Miners have access to a number of power tools, many of which give off a decent amount of vibration. You press one of those handy pieces of equipment against your panel and pray the sensation is strong enough to get you an overload from your valve or spike sheath.

D-16 likes to see Orion Pax getting all hot and bothered with a tool bumping between his legs. D will just hold it against Orion, watching him squirm. Droplets of lubricant squeeze its way through the panel seams and trickle down onto Orion's thighs.

D will lean in close and whisper something lewd. Like what he imagines their spikes look like. Or what he would do to Orion's valve, if ever given the chance. The teasing is aggravating and exasperating, but it's also exactly what Orion loves to hear.

[therobotsarestuckinmyhead]

♡ STARSCREAM [TFP] HCs ver: A.3. SMUT

NSFW under the cut 🗣‼️ MDNI, 18+

scenario A: a Megatron loyalist being pursued (and falling for) Megatron's most vehement opposition, enemies to lovers, slow-burn(ish)

warnings: NSFW headcanons. starscream is mostly bottoming.

note: don't worry, this doesn't tie into the main story in any way. this is sort of self indulgent.

prev: part 1, part 2 next:----

PART THREE ‼️ 3000 words

— Starscream is very prudish when it comes to this sort of thing. Mostly because he doesn't like being vulnerable. Ever. To him, interfacing is purely for pleasure. So he usually self-services instead of really seeking anyone out. And his pride refuses to let him seek someone out to start with. So he's repressed and frustrated. Very.

— He knows when exactly the thoughts started plaguing him. Before, he only ever looked at you and went ‘whatever’. Starscream wouldn't admit it but he liked how sturdy you were; taller, bigger and stronger. He definitely found that appealing but Starscream would rather let Megatron rule the Decepticons peacefully than ever admit that.

— It started off the first time during his short-lived reign over the Decepticons. He remembers it oh, so clearly. The Air Commander couldn't forget it even if he wanted to, which oddly enough, he never wanted to forget it deep down in his spark.

His optics are blown wide as his wings droop, he was just about to knock on the door of your quarters before he froze at the sound he'd just heard. Your counsel has unfortunately been quite useful to his new Decepticon order so he came here seeking you out like usual for some insignificant task. There's a heat rapidly building up in his frame as he hears another, louder noise. Almost like… a moan and by Primus, it sounded nice to listen to.

Starscream can hear you, faintly from the other side and he's thoroughly confused. His fans roar to life, it does make him panic but it seems you're too occupied with… whatever it was that you couldn't hear any of his reactions. His fans are spinning and he's trying to manually make it stop, trying to override protocol but it seems his HUD is floored about this involuntary response being necessary for overheating.

His vents hitch as he slowly leans towards the door of your quarters, helm pressing against the cold metal and his audials catch the noises with some more clarity.

You were moaning. He can hear soft, muffled wet noises.

And unfortunately, it actually sounded… Appealing.

Wait. Were you…?

Starscream quite literally jumps away from the door as the realization hits him like a freight train, his wings perking up and the heat emitting from his faceplates tenfold. The seeker is in a flustered panic. No! He's not supposed to feel this way about you! The charge immediately surges down to his modesty panelling, array coming online and he can feel his spike pressurised slowly and valve slicken up.

All this from just your noises?

Imagine what your- NO. He halts that thought before it even registers in his mind, last thing he needed was a mental image! Starscream does NOT want to think of the bot he blames all his ignominy on in this way.

He decides to quickly leave to his own quarters without so much as making a sound, he doesn't want to alert you nor does he want to stand around like some sort of pervert. For once in his functioning, Starscream feels ashamed. Stomping away quickly as he gets a comfortable distance away from your quarters.

Look what you've done to him! Now he has to deal with this mess! He nearly bumps into a Vehicon as all sorts of thoughts consume him, grumbling and continuing to walk at a faster pace instead of screeching at them.

Were you pleasuring yourself? Or were you pleasuring another? For some odd reason, the idea of you being with someone didn't sit right with the Seeker. It made something in his spark churn and he hates the feeling. So much. His fans continue to run, thankfully his quarters are not too far away. Just across the hall.

What do you think about when you're pleasuring yourself? Did you use your valve or your spike more? Were you using a toy? Maybe you were with someone? What if he was that someone?

The last thought makes him stop dead in his tracks and take a deep in-vent to calm himself as he's right by his door.

Why was he thinking such things!?

What did you do to him!?!?!?

— Ever since, he's often had thoughts of you in more inappropriate settings and it's been plaguing him. Especially when you're laying down on some medical berth in the medbay and not even bothering to stand up and greet him. He's trying his best not to stare at your form.

— The worst thing is how he finds himself moaning out your designation when he had to relieve himself afterward. It's something he's going to take to the Afterspark with him. He gets more tense around you, quiet even for the next few days.

— Starscream buries what happens deep within his processor. He's going to try his very damned best that he didn't almost catch you pleasuring yourself.

— Until he actually does catch you in your quarters, given Starscream shows up there and this time you forgot to lock your quarters door with the keycode. He was frustrated and having a bad day because Soundwave wasn't cooperating with him so he couldn't hear the faint noises like he did last time. He waltzed in like he owned the place and stopped dead in his tracks as the door closed behind him with the most flustered look ever as he catches you stroking your spike with three digits deep in your valve.

He's frozen in place, as if he'd been hit with the immobilizer. It's awkward. He's never seen you look like this, so vulnerable. Hazy optics wide, a deer in the headlights. You clearly want to scream, or say something. His fans are roaring at the sight in front of him and it's even better worse than any of those dreadful fantasies he's had.

There you are, sitting on your berth. Spike standing tall, fully pressurized and ready as pre-fluids drip down. He can feel his valve practically online immediately at the sight, lubricant coating mesh beneath his modesty panelling. Your valve looks so plush, glistening under the dim lit lights of your quarters, you definitely knew how to set the mood for self servicing.

He's staring at your exposed array and you too are just stuck in place, three digits halfway through pumping your valve only for the last mech you wanted to see invite himself into your room with no consideration whatsoever. He can see you're just as shocked as he is.

The words are stuck in Starscream’s vocalizer, he wants to say something. Anything. Badly. He can feel his intake practically watering, he's trying not to stare. Trying to get the cluttered mess of unholy thoughts out of his processor.

But only for his humiliation to never end, his frame betrays him and his own panels snap open which definitely catches your attention. He whimpers and takes a step back when he realizes your optics are fixated on his exposed array, puffy valve lips practically gleaming with lubricant and charge. It's making your spike practically throb while Starscream's own pressurized spike remains within its housing. His gray mesh coated with lubricant, glistening under dim lights.

You can see his interest and it serves to excite you even more for some reason.

Maybe… you could make the most of this unfortunate instead of sitting there left with just your servos.

He can hear your engines purr as you slowly crawl towards him and it makes his spark jump into his intake as he stammers. Wanting to say something. The sly smile on your derma makes him gulp but he has a feeling he isn't going to complain too much.

You're inviting him. And he can't resist. It's like a moth to a flame in that moment, he knows he shouldn't do this. Not in the slightest. But his spark is hammering as you get off the berth. He's not had someone in such a manner in so long and the options aboard The Nemesis are as limited as can be.

Maybe if he learnt how to knock for once in his life.

— It should be noted that Starscream has ZERO experience with intimacy or any sort of relationship. He always pushes away anyone that gets too close, he's a one mech parade. It's him, himself and his alt mode. That's all he cares about. He won't admit his lack of experience. Ever. So you end up having to guide him and he's just going to mutter out something like “I know what I'm doing!” or “Yes, that's.. -ah what I was about to do..”.

— Even if he did have experience, it exclusively has only ever ended as a one time thing or encounter at best and can be counted on one servo. Starscream is definitely reluctant to do this. Unless he's that needy or desperate. In this case, he's needy because you've been stuck in his helm ever since. He's never had a repeated encounter, Starscream figures that the two of you are just in a ‘friends with benefits’ set up. But he's not complaining half as much because the benefits are definitely worth it. He's a repressed and frustrated individual.

— Cue snarky back talk during interfacing. Mostly from his side. One sided hate sex, if you could even call it that. Starscream muttering about how insufferable you are if you're teasing him and how much he hates you. But you, being you, really couldn't care in the slightest. He hates it when he sees the cocky grin on your face when he gives in to the pleasure you're giving him.

— He wants to top, to dominate. He does. So badly. Doesn't mean he is very good at it. But the ego trip he gets from frantically fucking your valve deep with his spike is unlike anything else, especially since you're a bigger bot and he's thought of you as a threat for a long time before all of these newer developments. Starscream has an aversion to being submissive even if he knows deep down he would prefer it that way. But once you manage to coax it out of him, things will change. He's somewhat of a switch but definitely leans more to the submissive side.

— When he does try to spike you down, he quickly loses his rhythm and his thrusts end up being frantic and desperate. Starscream overloads first, he can't keep it together for the life of him. He tries. He really, really does.

— Starscream isn't the best at eating you out but sucking you off is a different story. He's surprisingly good at sucking off spike. He definitely has a thing for sucking you off but again, it's not something he's proud of. Regardless, he loves the feel of your spike in his intake. He can see the way your vents hitch or the extremely rare whimper you let out when he does so. He'll even swallow all your transfluid if he's that lost, most of the time he just spits it out in a bin next to your berth.

— Starscream is very vocal, he lives up to his name so he likes it when you make noise as well because it makes him feel like he's not the only desperate one here. But the two of you have to keep it down otherwise Soundwave is going to be very confused when he's walking past the living quarters.

— Also because Starscream absolutely does not want to be seen like this. If he's seen getting his valve full or seen frantically thrusting into you, he might explode on the spot. He's the temporary leader of the Decepticons! He can't be seen in such a vulnerable situation.

— He doesn't like admitting it but he loves it when you spike him. Starscream loves it when you have him folded on your berth, your thick spike deep within his valve and reaching all his pleasure points. You're bigger than him but it serves to make the stretch all the more delicious. Also means you can stuff him full and it makes his flight engines purr at the thought. Starscream absolutely hates knowing he's as submissive as they come.

— Deep and rough. Obliterate that twink. But being slow and gentle, it really gets to him. It gets to him a lot more. It will leave him craving more.

— It's easy to overwhelm him. Especially if you're spiking him and while his frame can handle a lot, he does not have good stamina. He's going to be a drooling mess when he's done. Top it off with some affectionate praise and he's finished.

— He definitely has a thing for praise. Starscream loves praise generally but in the berth, it serves to boost his confidence more than his ego which really helps an insecure mech like him. It also serves as reassurance because he wants to know he's doing a good job. Especially when he's taking your spike. If you coo out praise into his audials while he's squirming on your lap, stuffed with your spike, he will whimper and tear up a bit.

— Nuzzle into him, leave small bite marks where only you could see, pepper him with soft, chaste kisses; he will definitely come back for more, even if it means he'd be teary from how overwhelming it is. He'd be standing in front of your door with a grimace on his derma and pleading desperation to feel loved twinkling in his optics.

— He's never felt wanted before so making him feel like you enjoy having him, making him feel loved will have him crawling back to you every single time.

— Ride. Him. Your stabilizing servos straddling his thin waist, going up and down his spike AND he has to look up at how much you're enjoying it? He's going to die.

— He's picky about positions, if you're on his spike then he's going to want to see your faceplates because of the ego boost. But if he's taking your spike then he's going to want any position where his face isn't seen because he doesn't want to let you know he's enjoying this more than he should. And if you make him look at you while you're deep in his valve then he's going to feel small, vulnerable and incredibly lost.

— Starscream has decent endurance, he is Megatron's personal punching bag so his frame is tougher than it looks. It takes a bit to really work him up. But he has these very few extremely sensitive spots that will have him a mess for you.

— If you degrade him, call him a spike sleeve or a desperate mess or anything like that, it will have him embarrassingly riled up. I stand by the fact that Starscream is somewhat of a masochist (he's ashamed of it) and I will die on that hill.

— Cockwarming might actually be the death of him because he's impatient and he gives in easily. It doesn't depend if it's his spike in your valve or your spike in his valve.

— You make a joke during a time like this and he will flip. Flustered protests as you're sensually railing him. But it makes him realize that you're not some drone-like Decepticon that just follows whatever Megatron says, you've got a lot more going on and he strangely finds himself drawn to those extra bits about yourself.

— If you have a flight frame, Starscream will be obsessed with your wings. He's constantly going to try to tease you by caressing them. Maybe even kissing them on the rare occasion he wants to dominate with your back against him. He knows exactly what to get a flight-frame riled up so he will be somewhat of a bratty tease.

— Use a toy on him and he will turn into mush. Pleading, huffing and begging for release as you tease him, servos cuffed and viberator deep in his valve as you stroke his spike, looking down at him with an affectionate lust that has his flight engines purring. He might glitch out his vocalizer. But you're gonna need to get him to agree to that which will not be easy.

— dirty secret: he wants you to use him to your spark’s content. Starscream wants you to use his valve and spike until he's blissed out, flat on your berth. Until his tanks are filled with your fluids and your spike has nothing left to give him. Until his spike is milked dry. Until the only thing his static processor can remember is your name. But like usual, his pride and embarrassment will never let him say this.

— He's more vanilla, surprisingly enough. Starscream has seen various… Content before in his life. He won't suggest anything. But if you bring it up, he might consider it. TFP Starscream would never be the one to bring it up. If it puts him in a dominating position, the more he'd agree.

— Aftercare with him is... awkward. It's usually the two of you panting as the both of you are flat on your berth. Taking your sweet time to recover. He will be pissed off if you've left some marks in noticeable places though. Sometimes the two of you talk a bit and Starscream finds it sort of soothing and pleasant, especially if you're considerate about your new berthwarmer (call him that when you're not interfacing and he will throw a whole flustered tantrum). But if you tease him afterward as the two of lay, he's just going to grumble and turn to the side away from you as you chuckle.

— Sometimes you go overboard and he's just knocked out next you, deep in recharge so you just caress his backstruts and wings. Instinctively, he will nuzzle closer to you.

— Leaving your quarters is sort of easy, given he has barged into your quarters to throw a barrage of commands at you or to rant. Most of the bots know that so him walking out of there is not really raising any optical ridges. Just make sure to help him clean up before he goes. But Starscream won't return the favor, don't expect him to. He doesn't want transfluid stains on him when he's walking through the halls. One time, he left your quarters after a wonderful frag and he was met with none other than Soundwave and his spark nearly jumped out his intake. But thankfully, the Communications Officer didn't think too much on it, he was just going to his own quarters to check up on Lazerbeak's maintenance. Until Starscream messed it up with a nervous laugh. Now he's VERY suspicious.

— Trying to absolutely convince himself he hates you. He does. The interfacing is just too good.

— Definitely going to act like nothing ever happened between the two of you while you just stand in the background with a sly grin, servos behind your back. He tries not to think of what the two of you do when he's busy doing whatever. Sometimes you give him a sleazy, knowing smile the next day after ruining his valve and he's going to look so absolutely done with you and flustered at the same time.

— He'll be snappy, snarky and rude to you when you're out on The Nemesis trying to do your job but behind your quarters’ doors? He's your good boy.

extra:

starscream whenever he's trying to approach you in the past,

i hope i served well! a bit rusty on my robot smut writing skills haha... i genuinely hope all of you enjoyed this filththis lovely commentor @wibblewobblepop gave me the idea for the whole catching them jorking it so SHOUTOUT TO THEM‼️‼️‼️