#removes his mask for Shockwave

[lemonomelette]

Panel redraw

[originalwinnerfanfish]

Well, I did it

Megatron - I love his tfp design. Probably one of the best iteration of Megs. He is huge, heavy armoured, his face covered with scars… He doesn’t looks like an ordinary military leader who is only capable of giving orders, but like real warrior who can destroy any enemy with his bare hands.

So, in the WOF version, he definitely shares some features with Princess Burn, not only because of his might, but also because of his horns shape and dirty-dark scales (that absorbed blood of his enemies)

Starscream - Boy, I hate him so much 🤣… but in the good way, trust me! In my opinion, when the show's creators make you feel such strong negative emotions towards a villain, it means they've done a great job. Also, I think that his animation in the show was absolutely incredible, because even though he's a 3D model, he still manages to move like a 2D character, which is amazing!

I feel that in my design he still looks more like a skywing, than an icewing (which is kinda logical)

Soundwave - This one was tricky. I couldn't figure out what his mask would look like, so I just made his face a really dark color. I think Soundwave has both gifts of the nightwings, and he’s equally great at telepathy and a future vision. So he doesn't really need equipment to predict enemy movements, which makes him an ideal communicator in the WOF setting. His Laserbeak is part of the armor enchanted by Shockwave, and it might also allow him to open portals (but I'm not sure with this one)

Shockwave - My favourite evil genius. He would definitely have animus magic and mind reading. I think Shockwave is the only one who has advanced the study of magic so far, precisely because he combined it with scientific knowledge and created safer methods of using it, that don't damage the mind. It's like if a Mastermind got animus magic in books.

I also like to think that he didn't heal the damaged part of his face just so that his enemies would fear him more)

Dreadwing - This man deserved better! It's really a shame that he was removed from the show so quickly due to financial problems. It would be great if his arc got a proper conclusion in season 3.

Considering that I didn't want to make him a hybrid, it was difficult to choose a suitable color palette. So let’s just say, that I tried my best😅

I don’t think that he would have any nightwing powers, but honestly it doesn’t even matter - this guy can make a bombs, what else does he need to be cool

Arachnid - Did anyone even doubt that she would be a hivewing? Damn, she even got her own “Othermind” virus. Her design was the easiest to work with - just a little poisonous ass (suspiciously similar to Maleficent).

Just like Starscream, I hate her, but in a good way. She's one of the creepiest characters in the entire series, who’s acting like a fucking heartless monster, especially with Arcee, but even so, there's always was something mesmerizing about her. I just really like strong female villains

Knockout - Wery bright and charismatic guy, definitely one of my fav cons!

I tried to draw him as handsome as possible. Worked a lot on the face shape and coloring, and as for me it turned out pretty nice (finally).

Most decepticons think Knockout is as stupid and lazy as all the other rainwings. And it's not like he completely disagrees with that. Of course he’s not stupid and lazy, but if it’s means less dirty work on the battlefield, well, he’ll continue act like a tipical rainwing

(I also believe that Megatron keeps him as an “art”)

Breakdown - Fun fact: "Operation Breakdown" was the very first thing I saw in this series. And it was an interesting experience for 8 year old me. Maybe that's why I'm so scared of eye gouging scenes in movies now…

I think that he didn't have any siblings initially due to his parents nature, and even after meeting Bulkhead, he felt uncomfortable among the other mudwings. And this is why he later chose the side of the decepticons. And maaaaybe because of one cute rainwing influence)

P.s.

I think that, being mostly nightwings and icewings, the decepticons are much more concerned about purity of their blood and rarely accept half-breeds into their ranks.

During the war, there were many animus dragons among decepticons, which is why they have so many artifacts that allowed teleportation and communication at a distance. But, honestly, I still can't imagine what Nemesis would look like in this AU

[casedclosedbye]

Mirror Pic

Dick Grayson x fem!reader

Summary: sent dick grayson a naughty Pic while he's patrolling

wc: 1k

tw: minors dni !! 18+ getting dicked down by filthy mouthed Dick Grayson who is an absolutely horny slut

You had been feeling particularly naughty that night. You knew that Nightwing was out there, patrolling the streets of Gotham, keeping the city safe from the usual crop of villains. But you also knew he had a soft spot for you. So, with a devilish grin, you slipped into the silky lingerie set he had given you for your last anniversary. It was his favorite, the one that made his eyes darken with desire every time he saw it.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror, you took a deep breath, letting the fabric hug your curves in all the right places. You had picked out the perfect outfit for the occasion: a black, lace-trimmed bra that barely contained your ample breasts, and a matching thong that left little to the imagination. The garter belt and stockings added an extra touch of seduction, and the high heels made you feel powerful, like you could conquer the world—or at least the heart of the man you loved.

You took a selfie, making sure to angle the shot so that the mirror captured all of your curves and the way the lingerie hugged your body. With a wink and a cheeky smile, you hit send, the message flying through the night to the phone that Dick Grayson kept hidden in his utility belt. You couldn't resist adding a little caption: "Missing you, Nightwing. Wish you were here to unwrap me."

You barely had time to set your phone down before you heard the sound of glass shattering. Your heart raced as you turned to see Dick Grayson, a.k.a. Nightwing, standing in your bedroom window, his eyes blazing with a fiery intensity that could only be matched by the passion in your own soul.

"You little minx," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

You stepped closer to him, your hands running down your body in a deliberately seductive gesture. "I think I do," you murmured. "And I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

He stalked towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. "You know the rules," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "No distractions on patrol."

You licked your lips. "I'm not a distraction," you protested, even though you knew full well that you were. "I'm your girlfriend."

"And because you're my girlfriend," he said, closing the distance between you, "you know exactly what I need right now."

Before you could even blink, he had you pressed against the wall, his body a solid wall of muscle that you couldn't help but melt into. His hands were everywhere, his fingers tracing the lines of your lingerie, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

"You're going to be the death of me," he murmured, his mouth finding yours in a bruising kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Then take me," you whispered against his lips. "Take me like the villain I am."

With a groan, he hoisted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. He carried you to the bed, laying you down gently before stripping away the thin barriers between you. He kissed you again, his tongue dancing with yours, as he reached for the clasp of your bra.

You moaned as he bared your breasts, his mouth moving to capture one nipple, then the other. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin, making you arch your back in ecstasy. Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the contours of his muscles beneath the fabric of his costume.

He sat back on his haunches, his eyes raking over your body. "You're so beautiful," he said, his voice filled with awe.

You reached up, pulling at his mask. "I want to see you," you demanded. "All of you."

With a sigh, he complied, revealing the handsome face that you knew so well. His eyes burned into yours as he slid the mask away, his gaze never leaving you as he removed the rest of his costume, revealing his bare chest, sculpted abs, and the erection that strained against his tight black pants.

You reached for him, but he stopped you with a firm grip on your wrists. "Not yet," he said. "First, I need to teach you a lesson about tempting me while I'm on duty."

He climbed onto the bed, his body covering yours. His cock pressed against your wet folds, making you whimper with need.

"You're going to get what you asked for," he warned, his voice gruff with desire. "And it's going to be rough."

You nodded, your heart racing in anticipation. You had always loved it when he took control, when he showed you just how much he wanted you.

With one swift movement, he pushed into you, filling you completely. You screamed out his name, your body clenching around him as he began to move. His thrusts were punishing, each one hitting you deep and hard, just like you liked it.

You met him stroke for stroke, your hips rising to meet his, your nails digging into his back. He kissed you again, his tongue claiming your mouth as he claimed your body.

You could feel your orgasm building, a storm gathering in your core. You knew that when it hit, it was going to be explosive.

"I'm going to come," you gasped out.

"Not yet," he said, his voice a command. He reached between your legs, his thumb finding your clit and applying just the right amount of pressure.

You whined, your body begging for release. But he held you there, on the edge, until you were panting and desperate.

"Now," he finally allowed, his voice a growl.

Your climax washed over you, a tidal wave of pleasure that had you screaming his name. He followed you over the edge, his body shuddering with his own orgasm, filling you completely.

As the aftershocks of pleasure subsided, he collapsed on top of you, his breathing ragged. "I can't believe you did that," he said, his voice muffled against your neck.

You giggled, feeling his heart hammer against your chest. "It got you here, didn't it?"

He raised his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "It did," he admitted. "And I'm never going to let you forget it."

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight. "I wouldn't want you to," you murmured. "I want you to remember every time you see me in this lingerie."

He kissed you again, his body still buried deep inside yours. "Trust me," he said, "I'll never forget."

---

And so, your night continued, with passionate love-making that was both punishment and reward for your daring. Nightwing had arrived at your window, and he had indeed fucked your brains out. But as the sun began to rise, casting a soft glow over your tangled limbs, you both knew that it was a night that neither of you would ever forget.

[revelboo]

May I request more “Coin Operated Boy” please? :3 I crave my silly vehicons

And silly tiny shockwaves as an offering 💜💜💜

The boys 💕

Coin-Operated Boy Pt 7

Steve x Reader

• By the time you roll out of bed the next morning and sleepily peek out the blinds, you’re not really surprised to find there’s now five of them camped on your lawn. Because apparently your house is now alien car shapeshifter central. As long as they’re not destroying anything or bringing the military to your doorstep, you’re willing to just roll with it. Steve seems nice enough, if a bit confused. Wandering downstairs, you spot the rose bush just inside your house. Maybe you can convince one of your alien freeloaders to remove it so you don’t have to? Worth a shot.

• Shifting on his shocks when you open the door and step outside, still wearing that unsettlingly insubstantial covering and those fuzzy things on your feet with faces and shiny black eyes, he transforms and crouches down. Aware of his brothers keeping watch for him as he offers you a servo, pleased when you lay a warm hand on it. “Steve? Sweetie? Are you guys hiding out here?” You ask, little face upturned. Worried for them?

• “Watching over you,” he says, visor brightening as his head tips to stare at your hand on the end of his servo. Why does he think you need watching? Or have these guys maybe adopted you like a younger sibling? You have no idea what he’s thinking as he slowly lifts and drops his servo like he’s shaking hands with you. Or like someone teaching a puppy to shake. “You’ll be protected.” From what, though?

• Blowing out a breath, you pull your hand away and disappointment spills through him. “And I really appreciate that,” you say before turning and pointing at your home. “About that lovely rose bush you found me, I don’t suppose one of you could bring it out here and plant it for me?” You ask, lifting your hands slightly and he frowns. Moving in a crouch to the door, you jog after him and open it and he reaches a servo in to drag the plant out.

• He’s too cute, following you in his awkward little crouch with a rose bush in his fist, trying to keep low so he’s hidden behind your house. And when you point out a spot, he uses his servos to dig a hole and drops it in, mounding up dirt around the bush and you wonder which of your neighbors he stole it from. Head turning to stare at you like he’s checking that he’s doing it right and you smile. “Like this?” He asks and when you praise him, he leans into your space and cups his servos against you, helm almost brushing you in a not quite hug. Like he’s not at all used to being told he’s doing a good job.

• “That’s fantastic. Thank you,” you say, a little hand patting the side of his battle mask and he just wants to curl around you. Because there’s no hesitation, no scrutiny of what he’s done. And it’s so foreign to him, that warmth of being recognized and seen. “You did a great job.” Helm bumping your shoulder, he doesn’t even care that this isn’t behavior befitting a Decepticon soldier. Just wants you to keep talking, because no one’s ever appreciated him before. Or thanked him.

Previous

Next

Kind of low key annoyed with the coworker for giving me that mini kitchen stuff, because figuring out I like that scale led to… this… the Blokees have a nicer house than I do at this point…

[cece693]

Could you do a sequel to why? Where evil Bro,Billy and Stu succeed and the aftermath of their crimes?

Why? Pt.2 (Billy and Stu x M! Reader)

Sorry, I've been inactive guys. I see all the love and support you leave on my works which makes me incredibly happy. This took me forever to get out, but I hope you like it :)

Link to Pt. 1

tags: blood, murder, stabbing, killers duh, ghostface, death, m/n almost dies, but not really, just a knick really, if a gunshot to the chest counts :)

M/N watched with sick satisfaction as his sister’s world crumbled right in front of her eyes. People she trusted and loved have become her ruin. But the boy didn’t have much time to gloat as, without warning, Sydney threw her head back, making contact with M/N’s face. The impact sent him reeling back, a cry of pain escaping his lips as she seized the moment, slipping out of his grip and out the kitchen door. 

Sydney's heart pounded in her ears as she navigated the maze-like corridors. Desperation fueled her escape, but she knew she couldn't outrun them forever. Her brother would quickly recover and his lovers would surely be fueled with anger at her little stunt. Opening a random door, she gasped in relief, finding a phone on the bedside table and the Ghostface costume lying on top of the bed. Idea forming in her head, Sydney wasted no time and dialed 911, begging them to hurry before donning the costume, the mask fitting snugly over her face. If Stu, Billy, and M/N wanted to play, they would. Sydney knew she needed a weapon or her escape would be futile. The gun and knives were downstairs in the kitchen, with M/N probably guarding over them, so she had to make use of the items around her. Seeing a bat, she grabbed it before exiting. 

Downstairs, M/N was still reeling from the headbutt—blood wiped harshly off his nose as a pounding headache began, he continued his search for Sydney. With the gun gripped tightly in his hand, he checked the closet and behind every door, but to no avail. Huffing in frustration, M/N stalked towards the garage when a sudden blow came from behind. The impact sent him sprawling forward, the gun slipping from his grasp and skittering across the floor. Crying out, M/N saw Ghostface, bat in hand, poised to strike again. Panic surged through him as he scrambled to his feet, his eyes darting around for anything he could use to defend himself.

"You think you can stop me?" M/N spat, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He backed into a nearby wall, his hand closing around a lamp. Ripping it from the socket, M/N swung it at the masked figure, watching as it connected with a sickening thud. The lamp shattered on impact, glass and metal fragments scattering across the floor. Ghostface stumbled back, momentarily disoriented but quickly recovering.

Before M/N could launch another attack, Ghostface swung the bat again, catching him in the shoulder. The pain was immediate and intense, sending shockwaves through his body. M/N tried to defend himself with his fists, but Ghostface was relentless. A final swing connected with M/N's head, sending him to the ground in agony, his vision swimming as he struggled to stay conscious.

From the floor, M/N watched with wide eyes as the figure removed its mask and bent down to grab the gun. His sister looked upon him with cold eyes, blood oozing from her forehead. “Yes, and I did.” Trying to crawl away, M/N gasped when his sister aimed and fired. The gunshot echoed through the house as M/N felt a searing pain in his chest—his shirt quickly soaking up blood. 

Upstairs Billy and Stu heard the gunshot. Exchanging looks, they raced downstairs, faces contorted with fury and panic at the sight. “Sydney, you bitch!” Billy's voice thundered through the room, the intensity of his fury vibrating in the air as he rushed forward with his knife drawn. Every step was fueled by a fierce loyalty to his lovers, his mind consumed by a primal instinct to defend what was his.

Meanwhile, Stu's heart hammered in his chest as he raced toward M/N. He knelt beside his beloved, his fingers fumbling as he tried to apply pressure to the wound. "M/N, stay with me." Stu pleaded, his voice thick with emotion as he looked into his lover's eyes. The boy only smiled, as if he already surrendered to fate, but Stu wouldn’t let go yet. The sound of sirens could be heard from blocks away; M/N just needed to hang on. 

Billy made quick work of disposing of Sydney, stabbing at her body until she dropped to the ground without a pulse. He had wanted to kill Sydney on the spot, but if the sound of sirens was real and not a hallucination, they needed an alibi. Panting and covered in blood, he returned to the garage and rushed to Stu's side.

"Is he going to be okay?" Billy's voice cracked with desperation as he dropped to his knees.

"I don’t know, but we have to stop the bleeding." Stu responded, his voice shaking but determined. Together, they worked frantically, using their shirts to create makeshift bandages, pressing them firmly against M/N's wound. The sirens were closer now, almost upon them.

"Hang on, M/N. The ambulance is almost here." Billy urged, his hands stained with blood as he tried to keep pressure on the wound. Minutes felt like hours, but finally, the flashing lights of the ambulance illuminated the room. Paramedics burst through the door, swiftly taking over from Stu and Billy. 

The last thing the duo wanted to do was leave M/N’s side, but the police wouldn’t let them go without giving testimonies. “Can’t this wait?” Billy hissed, watching as the paramedics lifted M/N onto a stretcher to be wheeled off to the nearest hospital. 

“I’m afraid you need to stay here and answer some questions.” An officer explained, blocking his path. Billy’s desire to see M/N again held him back from picking up a knife to stab the man, so with one last glance at the door, Billy nodded. Stu, the lucky bastard, had left him to deal with the officer, faking an injury on his side which allowed him to ride with M/N. 

“Fine.” 

Billy took a deep breath, his mind trying to focus on the current task. "It was Sydney, she was behind the Ghostface murders. She attacked us."

The officer took notes, his expression serious. "And where is Sydney now?" 

"Dead." Billy said bluntly. "We had to defend ourselves. She left us no choice." 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the police released them. "You can go now. We'll be in touch if we need more information."

They didn’t need to tell him twice, without another word, Billy rushed to the hospital where he found Stu in the waiting room. His shirt was covered in blood with bandages peeking from the neckline, but more urging matters were at hand. “How’s M/N?”

"Alive. They said if the bullet would've been an inch more to the left, it would've hit his heart."

Billy's eyes burned with fury at the close call. The thought of losing M/N filled him with a rage so intense it was almost blinding. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. “We almost lost him.” Billy said through clenched teeth. 

Stu reached out, grabbing his hand. “But he’s fine. They put him to sleep so the wound has time to heal. They gave him a week max before being able to return home.” Relaxing at the information, Billy looked at Stu and smiled. With M/N now in the clear, they could celebrate getting away with the Ghostface murders.

[inquisitorma]

One shot.

Halsin x reader.

Rated +18

Sweet encounter with Halsin ends in having sex.

***

In the tranquil woods surrounding the Druid Grove, as you navigated the dense foliage, you stumbled upon a peculiar scene.

To your surprise, you found Halsin there, performing his morning prayers to Silvanus, the god of nature. The elven druid was completely nude, and the sight of his muscular body was both impressive and arousing. As he knelt before the statue of Silvanus, he seemed lost in thought.

Not wanting to disturb him, you quietly turned to leave, but the sound of your footsteps alerted him to your presence. Turning, he smiled warmly and beckoned for you to join him. Hesitantly, you complied, sitting beside him on the grass.

He spoke softly, telling you of the peace and serenity he experienced when communing with nature. Then, without warning, he reached out and caressed your cheek, causing your face to flush with heat.

You couldn't help but notice his growing arousal, and his hand gently brushed against yours. You tried to ignore the sensation, but his touch was intoxicating, and your body responded in kind.

Unable to resist, you leaned forward and kissed him, his lips soft and welcoming.

His hands explored your body, finding their way beneath your clothes, teasing and tantalizing you. His mouth followed suit, his tongue tracing the contours of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

Before long, he was on top of you, his hands exploring every inch of your flesh, his tongue tracing the length of your neck, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh.

The pleasure was intense, and you writhed beneath him, moaning softly. You could feel the pressure building within you, and your body shuddered as waves of pleasure washed over you.

He continued to kiss and tease you, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You could feel yourself losing control, and you clung to him, your fingers digging into his back.

His lips traveled downward, finding the sensitive spot just below your ear. He nipped and sucked at the tender flesh, and you arched your back, a moan escaping your lips.

His mouth moved lower, his tongue tracing the outline of your collarbone. He continued his exploration, his hands following his mouth, and you found yourself struggling to contain your desire.

Your breaths came in short gasps, and your skin was flushed with heat. You could feel the pressure building inside you, and you knew it would not be long before you succumbed to his sensual assault.

Just when you thought you could take no more, he stopped.

Looking up, you saw his face was a mask of pure desire, his eyes burning with lust. He stood, and you could see his arousal clearly.

Your mind reeled, and you felt yourself losing control. The feeling of his body pressed against yours was almost too much to bear.

Slowly, he began to remove your clothing, his hands expertly exploring every inch of your body. You shivered, not from the cold, but from the anticipation.

Once your clothes were discarded, he pushed you back onto the ground, his lips never leaving your skin. He trailed kisses down your body, his hands caressing your curves.

His touch was gentle yet firm, and you could feel his erection pressing against your thigh. The pressure was almost unbearable, and you found yourself moaning softly.

His tongue danced along your inner thighs, and you could feel the wetness pooling between your legs. He moved upwards, his mouth finding the most sensitive parts of your body.

His fingers explored you, his touch sending shockwaves through your body. You moaned, your back arching off the ground, the pleasure almost unbearable.

The feeling of his breath against your skin was intoxicating, and you could feel your release building. He sensed it, too, and his movements became more urgent, his tongue working its magic on your most intimate areas.

Finally, you could take no more. The pressure inside you exploded, and you cried out, waves of pleasure washing over you. Your body shook, and your vision blurred, the intensity of the orgasm almost overwhelming.

Laying back, you struggled to catch your breath. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your body trembled. Looking up, you saw him standing over you, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Well, that was certainly worth the wait," he said, his voice husky.

"I can only imagine," you replied, the realization of what had just transpired hitting you like a ton of bricks.

"So," he asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "ready for round two?"

With that, he was on top of you, his weight pressing you into the earth. He kissed you hungrily, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands roaming over your naked body.

You could taste yourself on his lips, and it sent a jolt of excitement through you. You kissed him back, passionately, your hands tangling in his hair.

You could feel his erection pressed against your thigh, and you couldn't help but grind against him, your body aching for him. He moaned, his hips bucking against yours, his breath hot against your neck.

"Gods, you're beautiful," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear.

He entered you, slowly at first, then thrusting hard and deep, his cock filling you completely.

The pleasure was exquisite, and you arched your back, meeting his thrusts, his hips grinding against yours.

Your bodies moved together, perfectly in sync, the rhythmic pounding of his cock inside you sending shivers of ecstasy through you.

He gripped your hips tightly, pulling you against him, his thrusts becoming faster and more urgent.

You could feel his release building, and you cried out, the intensity of the sensation almost too much to bear.

Suddenly, he stopped. Looking up, you saw his eyes were wild, his face a mask of pure lust.

"Turn around," he commanded.

Obeying his command, you got on all fours, presenting yourself to him.

He was behind you in an instant, his cock teasing the entrance to your wetness.

He teased you, the tip of his shaft rubbing against your swollen clit, the sensation driving you mad with desire.

You moaned, pushing back against him, your body desperate for him.

"Please," you begged, "I need you inside me."

He obliged, sliding his cock deep inside you, stretching you open.

You gasped, the feeling of fullness taking your breath away.

He thrust into you, hard and fast, his hands gripping your hips.

The pleasure was intense, and you met his thrusts, your body writhing beneath his.

He grunted, his cock throbbing inside you, the sensation sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

He pounded into you, his hips slapping against yours, the sound filling the air.

You could feel the pressure building, and you cried out, the release overwhelming.

Your body shuddered, and you felt him tense, his own orgasm approaching.

With a final, savage thrust, he emptied himself inside you, his cock pulsing.

You collapsed, spent, your limbs shaking.

As you lay there, panting, you could feel his seed trickling down your thighs, the feeling oddly satisfying.

Rolling over, you looked up at him, his expression one of pure satisfaction.

"Well, that was..." He trailed off, unable to find the words.

"Amazing," you finished, a grin spreading across your face.

He smiled, leaning down to plant a tender kiss on your forehead.

"Indeed, my darling," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

As his lips brushed against yours, you could feel his arousal, his erection pressing against your hip.

"And I hope you know that the night is still young," he whispered, his eyes smoldering with desire.

Giggling, you pulled him closer, his body molding against yours.

End.

[bunnylove369]

Can you make part 2 of Masky x reader story? Please🥺🥺

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚙

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝙶𝙽 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚢

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚎𝚝𝚌..

⚠️𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝙳𝙽𝙸⚠️

𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚞𝚝

--------------------------------------------------------

You awoke with strange walls around you, your breathing ragged as you struggled to come awake, there was a bright light shining into your eyes from above you.

You started to panic, remembering the string of events that happened before you had passed out. The strange man with the feminine mask, the syringe, the kidnapping. Everything was coming back to you in shockwaves, the memories flying you into a mad panic.

You tried to move, but your wrists and ankles were bound to the chair that you are sitting in. “Fuck, fuck fuck!” You cried out helplessly, trying your best to untangle yourself from your restraints.

“Sounds like someone’s awake.” Said a teasing voice from the corner of darkness. “Who are you?! What do you want?!” You called out, all of your hairs were standing on end, the goosebumps tracing your skin as your panic set in even more. “What I want,” he said, “Is you.”

As the last word fell from his lips you became immediately aware of the dangerous situation you were in. “Why me? Why not anyone else?” You questioned further, trying to get an idea of this guy. “I’m not entirely sure, I just like you.” He said, your body’s fight or flight mode reached as he began to take steps towards you. “You know, ever since I began watching you,” he continued as he began to circle you, “I felt drawn to you. Much like a moth to a flame. Your beauty is captivating, and your body,” he said as he looked you up and down, “Is just as beautiful.”

“You are disgusting!” You cried out, desperately trying to get out of your restraints. All of a sudden he got up in your face, his hands on either of the armrests as he forced you to look at him. “I love you, y/n. And I always have.” He said, you could see the concern and longing in his face as his jaw clenched awaiting your answer. “You’re crazy!” You responded, as your restrains began to become looser you realized that you had rubbed them together so hard and so quickly that the ropes burned through the other, in turn allowing just enough room for you to remove your hands.

He looked hurt from your words as he began to leave the room for a moment, and you weren’t going to stay to find out what he was going to get. So, with that you let your hands out of the restraints as you began to undo the ropes around your ankles. Once you got those loose you got up and ran out of the abandoned building, not looking back, but trying to be as quiet as you possibly could.

You made it to the woods as you heard the man yell from inside, and you weren’t going to stay to find out what he was going to do once he caught you. You ran as fast as your body would allow you to.

But soon you heard heavy footsteps behind you and a hand clamped around your throat as your back made contact with a very broad and hard chest. Whoever it was smelled like the woods and a metallic smell that you assumed to be blood. Your panic began to set in again as the man said “Gotcha, mouse.”

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 request♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[ross-hollander]

Refurbished.

I'm actually writing Transformers fanfiction, we are so donion rings.

Feat. Shockwave doing a science project, and an iconic face.

Shockwave had grown deaf to the chatter of laser fire. It was all part of the backdrop, now. Not a cycle since Cybertronians could walk the surface freely, and half of it seemed like craters already, he would muse to himself. Once he had fancied himself an archaeologist, going to those ancient cities, Vos, Stanix, in what free time an outcast bandit had, salvaging what was left of the Primes' reign from the rubble. Now, he only heard those names spoken of for the redoubts and advances and outposts.

One sound cut through all the skirmishing outside the facility, one that he would never be able to tune out: a fusion cannon. Three shots, four, in steady rhythm. Megatron's mood was easy to determine by his firing pattern. Rapid-fire meant short of temper; staggered shots like those betokened a deliberate mindset, thoughtfulness. But if Megatron saw fit to personally drive off those Autobot raiders, it meant he was eager for results. Shockwave turned his attention back to the slab.

He was just lowering the last of the chest-plates into position, micro-tuned tracking laser following his lone optic's most minute twitches for a surgical touch a nanomachine couldn't have, as the doors opened. No other bot walked like that, but a fine quavering note in the air, a hum, an auditory shiver, betrayed another guest.

"Megatron. Soundwave. Only a moment, now-" the final plate was sealed in place, a laser tracing its edges, and he shut down the program, turning, with a bow. Gestures of loyalty had become in high esteem among the Decepticons. It was like that since the First Starscream Coup, the Construction Coup, the Second Starscream Coup, the Third- it wasn't enough to be loyal, not even with Soundwave's truth-scan itching your audio-receptors as you spoke; you had to act loyal.

Megatron stepped forward, looking over the surgical slab. Metal purple with deac-reac sickness, the color of a Cybertronian dredged up from the rusty clutches of death. Armaments slimmed down. A face like horror itself. Megatron turned to Shockwave, gesturing at the recumbent machine.

"Go ahead. What've you done for me here?"

"A miracle, if I may say so, Megatron."

"Lord Megatron," rasped Soundwave, arms folded. He had taken to fanaticism like an electroduck to oil.

"Lord Megatron, I meant to say," Shockwave repeated, flashing a dullest-glowing glare at Soundwave. "The commandos retrieved the body from nothing less than Autobot top secret storage. A few techniques scoured from intelligence on Ratchet's work-"

Megatron tilted his head, giving a blank look and a rumbling rev. Shockwave felt it was time to cut to the chase.

"He should be as alive as any of the rest of us, once the energon infusion is complete. You left him in poor condition- I quite approve of it -but I had to remove the wings altogether to get the rest of him functional. His flying days are over. The sonic weaponry suite has been tested to perfection. I would wear audio dampeners-"

Megatron turned his gaze once to the body, then back to Shockwave, the body, the scientist, back and forth, until fixing Shockwave with a look he would have preferred staring down a laser cannon to being face to face with.

"I notice, Shockwave, he isn't online. Can he be turned back on, or not?"

"Lord Megatron, the- that lever-" Shockwave gestured to it on the control panel at the foot of the slab, faltering with haste, "I only supposed that you would want to be the one to make it official, so to speak, my lord."

Megatron turned his gaze towards the lever, and Shockwave unfolded slightly from his defensive cringe. Then he turned back.

"The mask?"

"Designed to your exact specifics, Lord Megatron. To the micrometer." The scientist stepped aside to his workbench, under his wall-sized surface map, and pulled the armored case off of it, releasing the catches of the shockproof metal with the smoothest of clicks; Megatron cracked a rare grin as he brushed one servodigit against the cargo within. Shockwave bowed stiffly.

"You don't disappoint on this kind of work, Shockwave. Allow me." He took the mask from its metallite-foam cushioning, walking around the slab, fixing it in place over that face, still locked in a death-scream of horror. Magnetic locks hissed and clicked. Shoot the wearer point-blank in the face, run them over, drop them from orbit, this mask did not "fall off".

Megatron circled around the other half of the slab, coming full circle to Shockwave's control panel, one servo grasping the lever. Soundwave shot Shockwave as dubious a look as his visor could manage.

"Lord Megatron, pardon my impudence," Soundwave droned, "but to reassemble him when better 'bots have gone to the smelting fire..."

"I'm not doing this for what he will be, Soundwave." Megatron's digits locked around the lever, began to push; concentrated Energon suffused the empty core of the dead 'bot. Blank light began to pour from his optics.

"I'm doing this for what he was. He was a liar. A traitor!" Shockwave toned down his audio receptors as Megatron's voice rose to an outburst, nearly drowning out the rising surge of Energon and creaking of machinery forced back to life.

"He kept 'bots in line, he kept them where he could step on them all! Tortured! Disassembled! Murdered! I want worse for him than just being dead, I want him to live, Soundwave. Live for the Decepticon cause! Live despised by both sides of this war, chained up in a prison the size of himself, locked behind that mask! All he did was die; I want him to suffer!"

The lever had gone all the way forward, the infusion complete; the bot was sitting up on the slab, which itself tilted slowly upwards, shunting him onto his feet. Were it not for the bracing brackets keeping the 'bot in place, he would have toppled to the ground.

"Excellent reasoning, Lord Megatron," Soundwave hummed. He scanned the 'bot, looking him over. "Welcome back. Welcome to the service of Lord Megatron, Sent-"

"Give him a new name," Megatron said. His voice was brusque; it had been a command, not a recommendation. Shockwave swiveled his torso, glancing at the surface map over the workbench, his gaze roving until it fixed on a point at random. He turned back to face the 'bot, whose optics roved wildly behind the mask, grating agonized moans as he got his bearings.

"Welcome to the service of Lord Megatron, Tarn. You will receive your first orders shortly."

[haddonfieldwhore]

venomous serpent - vessel

vessel (sleep token) x inhuman!reader

warnings: inhuman?vessel, inhuman!reader (succubus vibes), suggestive content/implied smut, not lore accurate, sleep paralysis (brief), biting, blood mentioned, lmk if i missed smth

word count: 1.7k

vessels eyes opened and glanced around the darkness of his bedroom, unable to move any part of his body other than his eyes. he was used to strange dreams and irregular sleep, but this was something new. he strained his muscles but remained immobile as the room around him began to warp into an unfamiliar place, somewhere strange and cold. tall trees stretched endlessly above him and damp grass caressed his arms as he now lay on the ground, soft rain falling from the sky as he stared up at the night sky.

vessel could feel himself regain control of his body at last, and was able to sit up, taking a deep breath as he looked around, able to see more of the forest that surrounded him. a melodious laugh echoed from every direction around him, before converging on single location, the sound now coming from a behind a tree a little ways up the path. vessel felt inclined to follow it, almost as if he couldn’t stop himself as his feet carried him down the trail, the earth soft and damp beneath every step. the sound of laughter got further away with each passing second, and then suddenly it came from behind him, causing vessel to turn around with a start. you stood before him, and it only took one look for him to determine that you were the most stunning being he had ever had the privilege of laying eyes on. as if you could read his thoughts, you laughed again, the most beautiful sound he has ever heard.

“aren’t you intriguing,” you sighed, running a finger over his shoulder, sending shockwaves through his body. a soft breath escaped his lips, parted slightly as he admired you, in a trance as you looked back at him. “why are you hiding?” you placed your hands softly on either side of his mask, and it took all of his willpower to stop you from removing it, his hands wrapping around your wrists.

“please….” was all he could mutter, and his heart skipped a beat as you smiled back at him mischievously. his breath caught in his throat as you trailed your hands down either side of his neck, before tangling in the plush fabric of his coat and pulling him close to you, your bodies nearly touching.

“alright, keep your secrets,” you smiled, your voice so enticing that he might have taken it off after all if you had only asked again. vessel swallowed the lump in his throat, gathering the courage to speak.

“what…are you?” he asked. “what is this place?” you furrowed your eyebrows together, his grip on your wrists releasing as your fingers played with his long necklaces.

“this is your home now, silly,” your voice teased him. “and what do you want me to be? what are you?” you countered. “i don’t think i’ve ever had one like you before.”

“is that so? what do you intend to do with me?” vessel didn’t know where the new shred of confidence came from, but his heart rate increased as your eyes lit up a phosphorescent green and your touch trailed down the length of his torso, goosebumps appearing in their wake. your fingers hooked through the belt loops of his pants and pulled his hips against yours, and his hands landed on your waist to steady himself, and you hummed at the feeling of his fingertips digging into your soft skin.

“just relax,” you whispered next to his ear, before placing a kiss to the flesh of his throat and then sinking your fangs in. vessel tensed at the sharp pain, his nails leaving crescent shaped indents on your hips as he tried to stay still. “let go.” he heard, but you hadn’t spoken, it was just in his head, your voice ringing through his thoughts as venom coursed through his veins. it burned so sweet, his arms wrapping around you to keep you close, and he felt you chuckle against his skin. he gasped softly as your forked tongue caressed the bite wound, before pulling back to look at him, blood dripping from you lips.

vessel closed the distance between you, tasting the iron on your tongue as he moved his lips against yours feverishly, hands roaming your body as you kissed him back. you surprised both him and yourself when a moan erupted from your throat as he pushed your back softly against a tree, his hips pressing against yours as you ground against eachother. his kisses trailed wet and hot down your neck, and you laughed softly as your hand caressed the back of his head.

“i think i’m gonna keep you,” you hummed, his own teeth puncturing your skin know leaving angry red bruises behind. his hands still wandered your body, tugging at your clothes until they were removed, and you slid his coat off of his body, letting to fall to the ground with a soft thud. vessel gently pushed you to the ground, before crawling on top of you. your sharp nails nearly pierced his skin as you held his chin, his still masked face hovering above you. your eyes turned dark now as you smiled up at him.

“keep me,” he muttered, kissing your swollen lips, his tongue tasting the venom that still dripped from your sharp canines. he moaned deep in his throat as you bit down on his bottom lip, piercing the plump flesh between your teeth.

“i have to let you wake up, don’t i?” you asked, rolling over so you were on top of him, the soft grass tickling your knees as you straddled his lap.

“i’ll sleep forever if if means i can remain here with you. like this.” his hands trailed up your thighs to rest on your waist again as you raked your nails over the soft skin of his stomach, stopping at the button of his pants, and vessel couldn’t help but buck his hips upward slightly.

“such a generous offer. i must say i’m tempted.”

“say yes,” he pleaded, as your hands began to undo his pants, your eyes shining green again as you smiled at him.

“hmm let’s see if you can prove that you want it.”

•

vessel awoke, jolting upright, discovering that he was once again in his bed. he looked around. attempting to wrap his head around the incredibly vivid dream he had just had. had it truly been a dream? he wondered. everything felt so real. was this sleep playing some kind of game with him? he sighed, stepping out of the bed and walking down the hall to the bathroom. when he flicked on the light his appearance in the mirror shocked him. thin pink lines trailed down his bare torso, fine cratches left by your sharp nails down to the waistband of his pants. he tilted his head to the side to inspect the deep puncture wounds on the side of his neck, where your fangs had sank into him, and his heart pounded in his chest.

vessel heard the sound of your laugh again, and he looked around, only to see nothing and no one there but himself. shaking his head, he flicked the light off and stepped back out into the dark hallway, the light of morning only just beginning to stream through the cracks in the curtains as the sun would soon rise. from the end of the dark hallway, just outside the doorway to his room, he saw two familiar eyes, glowing an unnatural green. he walked toward you just for you to vanish, appearing again sat on the end of his bed.

“did you sleep well?” you asked innocently, crossing your leg over the other as vessel approached you cautiously. he kneeled on the ground in front of you, kissing the exposed skin of your knees softly, and you smiled down at him.

“incredibly,” he replied. “your venom-“

“it will not harm someone with your power,” you replied, leaning forward until your lips were nearly on his. “but i can still make it hurt if you want me to.” his eyes closed beneath his mask in response, his head falling backward to expose his neck to you, and you caressed his painted skin before sinking your teeth in once again.

“am i dreaming again?” he asked, wincing as you placed yourself in his lap, his arms encircling you.

“you tell me. is it a good dream?” you were doing it again- speaking without speaking; somehow communicating telepathically.

“mm- yes,” he groaned as you licked a trail of blood that had begun to run down the hollow of his collar bone. “i never wish to wake up.”

“say the word and you can have me awake or asleep. i’ll be with you always.” you pressed your lips to his, and his hands grabbed at either side of your jaw, trying to prevent you from pulling away. the mixture of his blood and your venom on your tongue made his head spin, and he repositioned your bodies so that you lay beneath his in the bedroom floor. the chains on his necklaces dangled from his neck, and you used them to pull him down to your lips again.

“you have got your hooks in me,” he moaned against your lips, and you smiled.

“it was almost too easy,” you teased. “but i must admit, you have captured my interest as well.”

“so this is not a dream? i will not wake up and find myself alone?”

“no. i am here,” you placed your hand over his chest, his heart bearing past beneath your palm. “and i always will be,” you gently touched the bite mark on his neck.

“what is it that brought you to me?”

“curiosity. i can travel many different realms and plains of consciousness. i have seen you before, but what you are still eludes me. i wanted you to myself. but he already had you.” vessel tilted his head at you slightly.

“he? you refer to sleep?” you nodded.

“yes. it took me a while to find you. but now that i have i am not letting you go.” you kissed him, softer than before.

“i would not have it any other way.”

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[raisoramizu]

Chapter 13: 'Til Death Do Us Part

Hazbin Hotel Fanfic "New Order" (Radioapple/Radiostatic/Applemedia)

Previous Chapter: Intro - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12

The images for this fanfiction are for illustrative purposes only, and all credits go to their respective artists.

...

Inside the Radio Tower, time seemed to have stopped. In reality, everything around them was noisily collapsing; it was hard to distinguish sounds or hear voices... Hell had been overtaken by a swirling gray storm, with winds so strong they tore objects from the ground.

The city's lights were gone, but explosions, crashes, and thunderous booms echoed all around, not just caused by the rampaging demons but by Roo as well. He was awake. His pale eye surfaced in the heart of Pentagram City, right where the golden structure of the Heaven Embassy once stood.

And if Roo and that storm were rising from the Abyss of the Circle of Pride—the last one before Heaven—what state were the other Circles in? This thought shot through Lucifer's mind like a needle of terror: fear, but also guilt. He had helped Lilith awaken Roo without ever considering the consequences, and now he saw them all. He also saw his wife standing before him, but he no longer recognized her. The Queen had removed her mask; she kept broadcasting her voice, driving the demons mad, and at the same time taunting him through Alastor with vivid sadism... vivid resentment? Did she hate him? Still frozen in place, standing before the broken window that only emitted faint gray flickers, Lucifer clenched his fists in a sudden surge of rage, sending out a shockwave from his right hand that slammed into Alastor's radio station, shattering it. The music cut off abruptly, slicing through the chaos that raged around them. The melody was gone, but the storm and Roo's awakening continued. The Half-Deer jolted awake for a moment, but was quickly pulled back against the chair by Lilith's fingers, tightening the chain around his neck. Alastor's eyes went wide, drool slipping from his mouth as he struggled under her suffocating grip.

At that sight, that single act of Lilith against Alastor, the pain in Lucifer's heart flared up, and his voice grew harsher. "Lilith, please, stop. You can't control Roo!"

The Queen of Sin barely lifted her head in his direction, her gaze empty, indifferent to his pleading. "Control him? Roo's already awake, there's nothing left to stop." Her elegant, voluptuous form emerged from behind the chair, towering over Alastor's seated figure. He seemed to have slipped back into a trance, his usual smile almost gone. "Maybe..." Lucifer began, letting go of his demonic form to appear less threatening. His hair and clothes deflated, draping over his thin, small frame, and his eyes returned to their golden hue, revealing a worried expression that contrasted with the aggression from moments before. He took a tense step forward, reaching out his dark hands toward Lilith, gazing up at her with furrowed brows and arched eyebrows. "...maybe Alastor can stop him. You need to give him back his soul, break the pact that binds you to him. It's the only hope that—" "Alastor can stop him?!" the woman interrupted sharply, her icy eyes widening. "How could he? He's a puppet, barely able to manage the little power he has left."

"I... I don't know," Lucifer swallowed a lump in his throat, forcing a nervous smile in an awkward attempt to seem agreeable. "But there's something, someone inside him who knew this would happen, and maybe... maybe he can stop Roo."

"Ah! Really?" she exclaimed with a touch of sarcasm, yanking the chain abruptly. The metallic clink forced a startled Alastor to his feet. The movement was so sudden that the Half-Deer slammed into the chair before stumbling back against her chest—she stood slightly taller than him.

"...!" Lucifer flinched, his body stiffening as if he were about to lunge toward them, but he remained frozen in place. His eyes widened, full of terror. His hands hovered in midair, as pale lights began to flicker behind him: the portals bringing Heaven's angels. He couldn't reason with her. In that moment, it felt as though his wife's heart had been encased in a thick layer of stone. Had it always been this way? Cold, detached, devoid of mercy... soulless?

"Lilith... why are you doing this? To him... to me?!" he burst out, his voice rising as his sharp jaws ground together. But more than anger, there was a deep desperation in his expression. "Why... why do you hate me so much?!"

He dropped his hands to his sides, clenching them into fists, crackling with golden magic like electric sparks. His heart felt like it was burning and freezing at the same time. He couldn't recall ever feeling this much emotional destruction before, not even during his fall from Heaven. No, definitely not. She had been by his side then. And now, she was his worst enemy. Worse than Roo himself, because she was fully aware of what she was doing—she could choose, and she was choosing bitterness, vengeance, and destruction.

"Mmh, hate you...?" Lilith's simple question froze him in place. She was amused, her lips curving into a slight smile, her eyes filled with innocent, curious surprise, as though the angel had just asked her something absurd. "...Hate? Too noble for someone like you... for a little..." she hissed the last word with venomous disdain, "...insignificant angel, crushed by his own choices."

"..." Lucifer was left speechless, incredulous.

"...Look at you," she sneered, lifting her chin to force him to meet her eyes. Her icy gaze looked down from above his small Seraphic form. "A rebellious angel, full of hopes that first led the world, then all of creation, to ruin. Condemned to manage souls who abused the free will you introduced them to. And then... who fell in love with one of the worst souls, one that knowingly used that freedom to cause pain and death..."

Her voice dripped with venom as she continued, her left gloved hand—while her right still held the chain near Alastor's animal ears—sliding down his chest, unbuttoning his jacket slowly, slipping between the suspenders that held up his red shirt, and undoing the buttons with ease. Lucifer couldn't look away from the scene, frozen just a few feet in front of them, with Alastor facing him and Lilith towering behind, clutching and touching him with lascivious intent.

"...And now you want to save him, but you're not capable," Lilith continued, running her tongue over her lips. "You left him for days under the hands of a mere Overlord, subjected to his abuses... and you think you can save him from me?" She arched her eyebrows in amusement. After unbuttoning a few buttons, her fingers trailed through the reddish fur covering Alastor's bare chest, illuminated by the broken voodoo symbols floating in the air, emerging from his scarred wounds. "You couldn't protect your kingdom, your souls. You never saw them as yours, did you? What do you even understand about the human soul?" Lilith's words hissed like poisoned daggers. "You... creature of light. Where's your light, Lucifer? Where's your love for others, the one that should give you the courage to save them? To stand up, to rebel against the rules of beings who don't even know if they're right or wrong?"

It was at that very moment, when the Queen's claws scraped across a small symbol shaped like crossed arrows, that Alastor tensed, clenching his claws into fists at his sides.

The shadow of the Red Demon stretched far beyond him, spilling past Lucifer's feet and rising behind him, cast high against the windows of the Radio Tower. The shadow, ignoring its master's movements, grew taller than the Seraph, entirely black. It snarled silently at the woman, visibly enraged, its jaws and eyes glowing a toxic, acid green.

Meanwhile, down in Hell, especially at the Hazbin Hotel, the annoying music had finally stopped, but the stormy chaos that had taken over everything was far from over. Visibility was almost nonexistent, and the abyssal winds made it nearly impossible for the exorcist angels to fly, as they fought an exhausting battle against Roo's tentacles and creatures.

In addition to the red and black tendrils rising from the cracks in the ground, millions of tiny creatures—sharp-eyed monsters—threw themselves at anything in sight, adding to the confusion of the battle.

Archangel Michael, wielding his Flaming Sword, showed an agility and ferocity befitting his name as he tore through the creatures targeting him. But unlike him, the exorcists fell by the dozen.

Slicing through a massive tentacle, Michael hovered in the air, his great celestial wings flapping. He was tired, and though he did everything he could to maintain composure, he had lost some of it. He was not just a commander but the General of the Heavenly Legions, and he couldn't show weakness in front of the other angels, let alone the demons. Yet what he saw burned through his soul with a terror he had never known in all his existence.

The exorcists kept falling, and with every angel who died, it felt like a piece of his soul was being ripped away. He had never seen Hell in this state before—was this the apocalypse he was supposed to face? Everything looked so different from the prophecies, nothing like what he had prepared for. It was all so absurd, and even he didn't know what to call it. How could he not have been warned about this?

Clad in an elegant suit with blue and gold accents, wrapped in silver armor that protected his chest, shoulders, and legs, Michael radiated his own light, a beacon in the darkness. His medium-length blonde hair whipped in the abyssal wind, and his halo, blazing like a crown above his head, made him impossible to miss.

Charlie spotted him as she ventured into the courtyard, her face wide-eyed, staring at the sky. Just then, another exorcist crashed violently to the ground, dead, far too close to her for comfort, causing her to jump.

"Eehk!"

"Charlie! Get out of there, stay close to the hotel!" Vaggie shouted imperatively from the hotel entrance, gripping her spear.

"That's Michael, Vaggie! I know it, I've seen illustrations in Mom's books! They've come to help us!" Charlie squealed with a hopeful smile.

"Like hell they have!" Vaggie thundered, making the princess flinch. "They're here to wipe us all out! If we survive, they'll finish us off!"

"Adam..! Adam!" Lute was kneeling beside Adam, who was still chained and collapsed on the hotel's front steps, having dragged himself out of the doorway. He was unconscious now that the song had ended. She shook him with her good hand, trying to wake him, but the demon didn't stir. She bent down, pressing her ear to his chest: he was still breathing, and his heart was beating.

"At least he's alive."

Vaggie shot her a fierce glare and yelled, "Charlie! Move! We've got to get the other three out of the basement!"

Charlie nodded and started running toward the hotel, narrowly avoiding the upper half of an exorcist who had been sliced in two by one of Roo's tentacles.

"Oh, shit! They're killing everyone, Vag—" she started to growl as she ran for the entrance, but suddenly found herself suspended in the air. A massive tentacle had emerged from a crack in the ground and grabbed her by the waist. Charlie let out a scream, immediately shifting into her demon form—or at least, as far as she could go—her long hair flaring between her horns as Vaggie screamed in despair, "CHARLIE!"

Vaggie's scream echoed through the storm, slicing through the abyssal wind until it reached Michael, who was still hovering in the air, panting, struggling to catch his breath. The archangel lowered his bright blue eyes toward the Hazbin Hotel's courtyard, just as Adam twitched slightly. The First Man's eyes snapped open, staring at the steps of the building, still prone.

Vaggie's scream pierced the air and echoed through the infernal chaos, cutting through the interior of the Radio Tower like a blade. It struck Lucifer's mind like a lightning bolt, filling him with utter despair. Did Lilith hear it? As the sounds of battle seeped through the walls, like an omen, the Queen showed no signs of wavering. Her gloved fingers continued pressing against Alastor's chest, causing him to tremble in pain.

The sinner had hunched over slightly and was drooling and swelling again, still bound by those stitches that, by now, were clearly holding something back, something that was desperate to break free. His shadow was still there, thick with broken Voodoo symbols, looming menacingly over the glass behind Lucifer, but unable to do anything beyond threatening with its jagged, acid-green eyes.

"Lilith! That's enough! Stop Roo, now!" the Seraphim suddenly thundered at his wife.

The First Woman responded by darkening her gaze and tightening her grip around the violet chain. Then, with a violent yank, she snapped the collar around Alastor's neck, breaking it with a clean crack.

Lucifer's heart skipped a beat. The loud "crack" made his skin crawl; his red pupils shrank into tiny pinpricks, reflecting the Half-Deer's image as he spewed blood from his jaws, his neck twisted in an unnatural position.

...

"Where is Lucifer?! Why isn't he here?!" Lute roared, wielding her angelic sword in the direction of a massive tentacle writhing in the air. Charlie writhed within its grasp, while Vaggie, her face twisted in fear, desperately searched for a weak spot. Neither noticed Adam's faint groan, still immobilized nearby.

The First Man felt a searing pain in his chest and suddenly retched, expelling a thick, black mass from his throat with a "Bluargh!" Around him, chaos reigned. Visibility was minimal, but above all, the chaos was in his head. His vision was blurry, and he couldn't focus; his soul ached, as did his bones, and he was completely smeared in pitch, red blood, and... gold? Whose blood was that?

Somehow, he managed to place his knees on the ground, his legs finally breaking free from the chains cutting into his flesh. He crawled upward, lifting his head, only to see scattered pieces of exorcists strewn across the courtyard. ... He felt a chill run through him.

"Lucifer's in the Radio Tower, talking to Lilith!" Vaggie's voice forced Adam to lift his head further, terror rising in his chest. Just a few meters from him stood Lute, her back to him, and in the air, a frantic Vaggie, trying to strike the enormous tentacle. Charlie struggled too, stabbing her trident into the creature, though it had no effect.

"Lilith created all of this! She's the one who awakened this monster! She's the only one who can stop it, but she's not thinking straight! She's lost her mind! Why isn't she listening?!" Vaggie's voice grew even more desperate.

At those words, Adam's fear transformed into a sudden surge of rage. His eyes blackened, and his pupils turned red as he saw a bolt of light streak down from the sky. Michael, like a golden lightning bolt, flew beneath Charlie, brandishing his Flaming Sword, and sliced the tentacle clean in half.

The upper portion of the dark tendril crashed to the ground with a heavy thud, bringing the Princess down with it.

Adam still couldn't focus properly or move, growling as he clawed at the ground, his chains clanking loudly. His mind was a storm of thoughts, as chaotic as the tempest raging around him. Lilith? Lilith was in the Radio Tower? Was she the one who had driven everyone mad? Oh, of course—he remembered that disgusting feeling, created without a doubt by a disgusting woman. She had lied to him, made him believe that awakening Roo would allow him to save Eve, and now here they were, killing each other, watching even his third world of peace collapse.

Once Eden. Then Heaven. And now... Hell?

And Lucifer? Was he still in on this, planning to tear everything down alongside her?

At that moment, Adam finally caught sight of Michael's feet touching down on the courtyard pavement, and he heard Lute's voice.

"Michael..."

"Michael!" Her voice grew increasingly desperate as she rushed toward the Archangel.

"Michael, watch out!"

At the exact moment Alastor's body hit the floor with a thud, Lucifer snarled, exploding with inhuman speed toward Lilith. The room filled with eerie spectral eyes whirling madly alongside Voodoo symbols, while the angel, now fully in his demonic form, slammed his wife against one of the windows, shattering the glass into a thousand fragments.

"WHAT... what have you done, Lilith! You... you've gone mad! You've lost your mind!" Lucifer growled, spitting fire, his face inches from Lilith's, whose eyes were now wide with disbelief. "If you can control Roo, stop him! You have to stop him, now!"

Some shards from the window fell into the courtyard, just as Adam, lifting his head once more, saw a massive tendril pierce through Michael's shoulder.

Adam watched as Michael fell, impaled by the tentacle, and something inside him snapped. It wasn't just rage. It was a primordial fury, a wrath buried deep in his soul since his rebirth as a demon. In that moment, man became beast. The chains shattered like glass under the force of his anger. As the metal clattered to the ground and another gigantic tentacle wrapped perilously around the Hotel's structure, the First Man's leathery wings exploded from his back, propelling him forward. He dove to snatch an Angelic Sword from the ground and shot up like lightning toward the Radio Tower.

As Lucifer gripped his wife at the ledge, another violent force was building. From the courtyard, Adam's fury swelled like a storm. The two, bound by the fate of creation, were both blinded by rage—one against his wife, the other against destiny itself. The trembling of the Hotel resonated all the way to the Radio Tower, but Lucifer didn't care; his horns were out, his eyes ablaze with fury, and his wings twisted within the cramped room. But all he could see was Lilith's madness.

"You don't care about anyone anymore, not even Charlie?! You're going to get her killed too!" he shouted at her.

Lilith froze. Pure terror flashed across her face like an electric shock. The First Woman's eyes darted toward the courtyard below, searching for someone, just as the snarling figure of Adam leaped into the air behind her, wielding the angelic sword with both hands.

Adam's wings spread wide behind him, his body taut with momentum. The sword cut through the air, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. Lucifer heard the blade's hiss as it barely grazed his face, a blink of an eye before Lilith's head was severed from her body. The Seraph found himself staring, red-eyed and pupil-less, at the demon's figure beyond his wife's decapitated form.

...

The angel's eyes gradually widened, his mouth hanging open in shock. Then the blood, hot and thick, began to spurt, splashing across his face. Inside him, everything stopped: time, sound, even the beating of his heart. The sensation was indescribable—everything felt muffled, distant, as though his mind had detached from his body, dissociating from the reality around him.

Yet, in truth, everything continued to unfold. The Wedding Band encircling the last finger of his left hand glowed with a faint white light, transforming momentarily into the chain of a pact. Then, it snapped, disintegrating into nothingness.

The same happened around Alastor's neck, where the violet collar glowed dimly before shattering and disappearing. The shadow of the Half-Deer, projected on the wall, retracted toward his limp body, melting like dark liquid, entirely absorbed by the inert figure.

When the last drop was absorbed, Alastor convulsed. His neck twisted unnaturally, emitting eerie bone-cracking sounds, regenerating at a speed a thousand times faster than normal, and he awoke. Placing both claws on the floor, he stood up. The abyssal wind continued to blow beneath the tails of his coat, which he carefully buttoned up along with his shirt.

Then, he extended his right arm, opening his hand wide, and with crackling bursts of shadow, his staff appeared. The top was shaped like a microphone encased in a shell-like protection.

Gripping the staff tightly, he twirled it around and turned fully toward the scene that had just unfolded behind him. His eyes gleamed in two different shades of green, the X glowing acid-bright on his forehead, the enormous symbol of Kalfu swirling behind him like a frame among the others, all linking back together. With a wide, yellowed grin etched on his face, he spoke in a deep, masculine voice that wasn't his own:

"Oh, so here I am. Is this where the apocalypse begins...?"

[sehtoast]

The Art of Worship (Homelander x OC Smut)

18+ | 2.6k words | Webweaver, gore, dismemberment, display of a corpse, blood, face fucking, choking, rooftop sex, p in v sex, blood as lube -- yes, you read that right, multiple orgasms, Homelander is his own warning, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

Homelander was fucking furious. 

Rage and indignance burned in his gut, igniting a flame that scorched anyone and everyone that dared cross his path or, worse yet, cross him outright. 

The only person safe from him was Benjamin.  His sweet little Benjamin. So calm and collected, patient and kind in the face of this– this slight.  This brazen fucking insult. 

Vought wanted publicity. Demanded it. Spectacles and events, mountains of money, free advertising from all the social media hype. Of course they'd want to pit their beloved Spider-Man against Webweaver, just as they'd done with A-Train and Shockwave. There was money to be made. They’d dangle his precious little spider over a lion’s jaw for a penny if the opportunity came about.  What did he expect?

They were to have a bundle of competitions, each one specially designed to determine who was the better Spider. 

Who was more fit for The Seven. 

Of course Homelander had gone nearly ballistic when he found out. 

Benjamin, though… He simply wasn’t taking it seriously.  Subject to rants and raves every morning and night as the competition neared, the bug simply always said, “It’ll be what it’ll be.”

But this couldn’t be.  Homelander wouldn’t fucking stand for it.  He didn’t believe for a second that the wall crawler would leave him were he to lose his place on the team, but to see someone else sit in his seat?  To tolerate some airheaded jackass, some cheap fucking knockoff thinking he was better in any capacity?  Absolutely not.

He wasn’t going to allow it.

He’d worked himself into a frenzy by the time he tackled his lover’s competitor out of the sky.  Completely consumed by rage, by fear and anxiety– but, more than anything, the burning need to protect.  He zips through the city, dragging Webweaver’s face across building after building, smearing pulp-like blood across the surfaces.  

“Did you really think,” he sneers, “I’d ever let someone like you into The Seven?  That I’d let you replace Spider-Man without putting my fucking foot down?”

He can hear the whimpering.  There’s still time to play, he decides, as he lands upon a skyscraper with two antenna towers that would be just perfect for what he had in mind.

He drags Webweaver’s limp form between the two, fiddling about with his hands and wrists to figure out how to fire his webs.

Imagine his surprise when it turns out to be a mechanism rather than the organic method by which Ben produces them.  No bodily-intent needed to make sure the webbing’s consistency and tension would be just right.

With a roll of his eyes, Homelander begins to craft his masterpiece.  He’s seen his little spider do this tons of times; so, really, how hard could it be?  He works, eventually deciding it’s far more convenient to remove Webweaver’s arm than to lug his dead weight around.

Once it’s perfect, he has his fun.  Picks him apart piece by painful piece, starting at the legs.  Webweaver is in and out of consciousness as Homelander dismembers him, but what fucking fun it was to see the look of horror on the face of the thorn in his side when he snapped that first length of bone and ripped his flesh clean off.  

“Like picking the legs off a bug,” he mocks.

Homelander mounts each limb in the web, creating a work of art piece by piece, topping it all off with a dripping, mangled, decapitated head.  He doesn’t even bother pulling the mask off– it’s shredded perfectly.  In his satisfaction of a job well done, he can’t help but feel his work of art is enough to rival Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man.  Surely, after this, he’s an artist in his own right.

When he arrives home to find his Benjamin waiting on the couch, he has to stop the bug from attempting to drag him into the shower.

“It’s a surprise,” he tells Ben when the origin of the viscera is questioned.  “C’mon, I made you something!”

The look of abject horror on Ben’s face when they land on the rooftop tickles a mote of fear in his gut.  He’d done this just for his little spider.  Declared him the victor before the competitions could even begin.  Painted the city red just for him.

“D’you like it?”  He asks, the mixture of excitement and anxiety stirring in his gut.  “I did it for you.”

Ben’s chest rises and falls with each heavy breath.  He plucks at one of the tight strands of webbing, listening to the twanging vibration as he takes it all in.

At first he’s scared.  It’s like seeing an alternate version of himself in that web.  If things were different, would Homelander have done this to him?  He doubts it, but… somehow, some way, it stirs something in his core.

Homelander had killed– no, slaughtered a man for him.  It wasn’t even the first time John had killed for him, but this..?  This was something else entirely.  This was more than protection, more than retaliation.

It looked like a fucking offering to a beloved god from their most devout follower.  The care and creativity that had gone into it… Benjamin would be a liar if he said there wasn’t something alluring about the fact Homelander had done this.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more his horror was replaced with something else entirely.  Something wicked.

He turns to Homelander, who stands there looking like a kicked puppy.  Ben had spent too long in thought, and his poor, darling Johnny began to feel rejected.

“John?”  He whispers, drawing his blood drenched lover’s gaze away from the ground.  “You did all this… for me?”

With big, blue, scared eyes, Homelander nods.

It’s as if Ben’s body moves on its own.  Each step forward barely registers, the hands rising to Homelander’s face are numb to sensation, cupping his cheeks as if they had a mind of their own.  Before he can even realize, Ben is leaning in to take Homelander in a searing kiss, gasping and breathing in lungfuls of the iron-laced air and each of John’s little breaths.

He can taste the blood on Homelander’s lips, and something sinister rears its head inside.

“You,” he gasps between kisses, tongue laving into John’s mouth for more, “are so…”

He backs Homelander up against one of the antenna towers, taking a fistful of his suit, other hand gripping his red-stained undercut to angle him deeper into the kiss.

“So fucking hot,” he breathes as they separate.  

A sick grin spreads across Homelander’s blood splattered face.  That swell of pride bubbles within him once more, particularly when he sees just how bloody his little spider’s lips had become from their kiss.  More than pride though, he feels himself twitch in his pants.

Benjamin looks gorgeous covered in that worthless fuck's blood.

He grips him by the jaw, pulling the web-head back in for another kiss, slipping his tongue between his lips.  Homelander takes him fiercely, overcome with a deep, desperate hunger that demands appreciation for his work of art.  

How goddamn thrilling to not hear a single complaint as he tore the t-shirt clean off Benjamin’s body.  He spins the bug, pressing his bare skin to the cold metal, relishing the opportunity to be had in his gasp.

He takes control. 

“Mine,” Homelander growls as he marks Benjamin with more blood.  He extends a hand, catching a few dribbles from the stray limbs above, moving back to claim his territory.

With a red right hand, he paints his name over Ben’s chest in big, bold letters.  The crimson blends with the leather of his glove, appearing as if his very essence was what smeared onto his little love bug.  He finishes it off with a bloody grip at Benjamin’s neck, leaving behind a perfect print.

“So, you like my handy-work, huh?” He smirks, trailing the tip of his nose up the corner of Ben’s jaw.  Homelander hears him gulp in response, feels those hands grasp at his forearms, and all he fucking wants is to put him on his knees and mmm… 

He has such delicious ideas in mind.

“Maybe you should show me how much you like it.”

The glint of excitement in Ben’s eyes doesn’t go unnoticed before the web-head is falling to his knees, just like he wanted.  What a fucking sight he was to behold, too.  The way he nuzzled against Homelander’s clothed cock before undoing his belt.  He mouths over it and, despite barely being able to feel it through the fabric and cup, John’s entire lower region twitches in excitement.

He sighs in relief when his cock meets the cool night time air, engulfed in heat near immediately as Benjamin swallows his length.  Throat training the boy had been the best decision in the world, truly.

“Ohhh…” Homelander leans his head back, stained hands threading through those unruly chestnut locks.  “That’s it– fuckin’ take it.”

John grinds into Ben’s mouth, burying himself deep and staying there until that hot, needy throat clamps down around his cock in a gag.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts.  “Hold it.”  He hears the sound of Benjamin sputtering below.  Homelander looks down with a grin.  “Thaaaaat’s it, keep it in there.  Atta’boy, Benny.  My little spider– mine!”  Homelander pulls out to the tip, watching his precious Benjamin choke and gasp, grinning wickedly at the threads of saliva still connecting them.

He tips Ben’s head back to gaze up at him.

“I’m going to fuck that pretty mouth of yours, and you’re gonna behave yourself.”  He orders.  In the background, faint drips of blood can be heard splattering against the ground.  “Show me just how grateful you are that I saved your bacon, babe.”

Ben nods obediently before swallowing him once more.  Homelander swears he sees stars once that tongue swipes his tip, and galaxies as he sinks further inside.  He begins to thrust, hand directing Ben’s head with each motion to maximize his bliss.  

He really likes the sound his little spider makes every time the head of his cock beats the back of his throat.

“Fuckin’ whore,” he chuckles through his teeth.  “You couldn’t wait to suck my dick when you saw what I did for you– I just know it. You wanted to thank me so bad!”  

Homelander pushes in until Ben’s lips are wrapped around the base of his cock.  He holds there for a moment before setting a faster pace, thrusting blissfully into that hot, wet mouth that was just so perfect for him. 

“You wanted to get on your knees the second you saw it,” he continues. “You know I deserve this for protecting you. Fuck… suck that cock, baby.” 

He tilts the bug’s head back to rest against the metal frame, admiring the tears painting his cheeks and those gorgeous swollen lips.  When the hands gripping his thighs clench, he pats Ben’s cheek sweetly.

No, he thinks to himself. This is my masterpiece.

He gives his little spider ample opportunity to breathe once more as he pulls out, gripping his cock to smear spit and precum across his lovely little Benjamin’s face.  

Van Gogh only wishes his brushes stroked such beautiful swirls.

When that tongue juts out to beg for more, John wastes no time at all in burying himself all the way in one smooth motion.  This time, though, he leans down to grasp Ben's neck.  With a light squeeze, he’s overwhelming even himself– and yet he still fucks into that impossibly tight heat.

Ben’s eyes water even more, and he grips Homelander’s thighs with all of his might as he fights his gag reflex.  He can’t breathe, he can’t speak, and the hand squeezing his throat is pressing perfectly against his carotid arteries. 

His vision swims into blackness.  

Over the deafening thrums of his own heartbeat, Ben hears Homelander cry out his release, feels him thrust forward impossibly closer, pushing his head back against the metal frame with each motion.

“Good boy, good– ah!  Good fucking boy!”

He’s buried too deep to spare even a taste of come in Benjamin’s mouth, and the bug fights to not pass the fuck out from lack of oxygen.  By the time Homelander pulls out, Ben's almost confident he’s turned at least a few shades of purple if his desperate, heaving gulps of air were anything to go by.  He slumps onto his side before rolling onto his back, uncaring that he now lays in a puddle of his rival’s blood.

The sky is clear and the moon smiles back at him, but there’s no time to bask in it when his jeans and underwear are being dragged off his body by his voracious lover. 

Homelander spreads Ben’s legs with little patience before plunging into his cunt, groaning through clenched teeth as the soft, velvety walls practically pull him in.  Beneath him, Ben whines and squirms.

“Too mu– w-wait a sec!”

But he doesn’t care.  Not when that heat beckons him forth all the more and consumes him whole.  He ruts without care, fucking into his little spider like an animal.  Fuck, maybe that’s exactly what he was, all bloodstained, fangs bared, eyes swirling red in his frenzy.  Each snap of his hips caused them to slide around in the slick remains of Benjamin’s foe.

His little spider looked so fucking perfect in a halo of vengeance.

“Mine,” Homelander snarls, nails biting into the softness of Benjamin’s hips.  Below, his little spider whines and keens, eyes rolling back despite all of his attempts to steady his vision.  His pussy lips are parted like flower petals, and thrusts at just the right angle cause his swollen bud to slide against Homelander’s cock.  The more Benjamin writhes, the more blood stains his body.

He’s a sight to behold, especially once one of his slicked hands reaches between them to slide over the base of Homelander's cock.  Each stroke drags a little more of the thick liquid from his fingers and each glide of his cock becomes smoother until Homelander realizes just what his little love bug had done.

Benjamin used the fucking blood as lube.

A thought that, as soon as it fully manifested in Homelander’s mind, had him thrusting harsh and deep before spilling his load inside his lovely little Benjamin.

“Fuck–” he mewls, rutting through the waves, cock twitching with every little spurt.  “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck… You little fucking slut!”

Ben had hardly realized what he’d done.  In truth, he just wanted something to ease the friction.  Wet as he’d been, he just needed more– and, without that godsent bottle of lube usually within arm’s reach at home, he had to take what he could get.

By the time Ben opens his eyes, Homelander is engulfing him in a kiss that is far more tongue than lips, and he’s only able to whine once he feels his love start moving again.  This time, though, John is a little slower, a little more gentle.  Enough that Ben found himself falling over the edge of bliss without fear of being fucked through the roof.  As he came apart, so did Homelander.

Again, and again, and again. Each round requiring more and more of the crimson liquid to keep things comfortable.  

By the time they finished, the rooftop had dried and the corpse no longer dripped.  Both Ben’s clothes and John’s suit were completely ruined, but a naked journey home is much less humiliating when the sky is the path taken.  They looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie, drenched from head to toe in dried blood.

Homelander holds Benjamin tight in the shower.  Trails his fingertips over the bruises on his throat, on his hips and legs.  He wants to apologize, but he earned this.

Instead, he kisses him– softly, this time.

“I’m never letting you go.” He states firmly, as if that’s all the explanation he needs to give for everything he has or ever will do.  “I’m never fucking letting you go.”

Benjamin, on wobbly legs, leans his weight against his beloved Johnny.

“I love you, too.”

[nonbinarybrainstorm]

can i get dom brainstorm/sub soundwave please?

A bit short but definitely sweet

“Well, you must be pissed.”

Soundwave stiffens and then glares at Brainstorm, angry at his insinuation as well as the fact that he’d been so distracted that he didn’t notice Brainstorm’s approach.

“I’m fine,” Soundwave puts flatly, looking away in annoyance.

Brainstorm comes up behind him and pulls Soundwave to his chest who grabs his wrists, failing to pull Brainstorm off.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Soundwave snaps.

“Relax…” Brainstorm takes off his mask and kisses Soundwave’s shoulder, “Autobot? Decepticon? Doesn’t matter. The war’s over, sweetspark.”

Soundwave scoffs, “You’re still pretending to be an Autobot?”

Brainstorm bites his neck cables, earning a gasp, “Like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

As Brainstorm’s hands trail down, Soundwave tries to think of a good reason not to fall into old habits but then Brainstorm’s rubbing his panel and he doesn’t care anymore. His hands tighten on Brainstorm’s arms as he lets his panels slide apart only to softly cry out at the feeling of Brainstorm’s fingers on his anterior node. Brainstorm’s other hand curls around his spike, pumping slowly but twisting roughly while slipping two digits past Soundwave’s folds to run around his entrance. With nowhere for the charge to go, it builds and builds, leaving Soundwave wracked with needy little sounds. He can’t keep quiet as his hands grab at Brainstorm behind him, unable to find a satisfying hold. Then, Brainstorm removes his hands to Soundwave’s chagrin now standing there so charged up it almost hurts.

“What… no… ah… Brainstorm,” Soundwave calls to him, his mind hazy with lust.

Without a word, Brainstorm pushes him against the wall so that his back scratches the chilly metal, the material feeling like ice against his plating. Before Soundwave can say anything, Brainstorm is on his knees taking Soundwave’s spike into his mouth with a cheeky look up at Soundwave. Just as Soundwave recovers enough to say something coherent through his broken moans, Brainstorm shoves two digits into his valve with his thumb pressed against Soundwave’s anterior node, grounding the charge and forcing an overload from him. Soundwave bends forward, gritting his denta and grabbing at Brainstorm roughly with the force of his overload. He can’t help bucking into Brainstorm’s mouth as shockwave after shockwave of charge surges through his system until he’s left unable to do anything but twitch, slumping onto Brainstorm.

Brainstorm watches this display delightedly, swallowing down everything Soundwave gives him until he feels Soundwave depressurize on his glossa. He pulls off Soundwave and pushes him up, moving him until he’s upright so he can hold Soundwave to the wall. Hugging Soundwave possessively, Brainstorm kisses his neck cables while running his hands over Soundwave’s frame, delighting in the feeling of the warm metal.

“See? Now we can be together without any worries our supervisors venting down our necks…”

Soundwave huffs and nudges away weakly, “Fuck you.”

Brainstorm chuckles and hugs Soundwave closer, nuzzling his neck cables with a victorious grin.

[moe-lazyeye]

War Helmet Removed (Part 1)

Jonas: Jonas ran his right hand through his short hair, tousling it. It felt relieving to be out of armor, helmetless, at the palace, in relative safety, after a more arduous mission. Relief washed over him the instant he made it through the gates. Home. Rest. Mind, even when he dismounted, he tread through the courtyard with alacrity, as habits were habits, and he'd never be able to move in a slow, laid-back fashion. But even if his body looked poised, Jonas felt comfortable, glad to be back. He'd seen Egil at the stables tending to dragons. They'd talked, briefly. Egil seemed more interested in the dung than his brother, so Jonas left Egil to it. They could hash out what they needed for the kingdom later. As Jonas proceeded indoors, he bumped shoulders. He paused, turned about, and with a nod, greeted the man. "Stonegit," he said pleasantly. "Egil was saying you've been sparring again. Good to hear."

Stonegit: "Jonas..." Stonegit sighed in calm relief, as his hands came up to instinctively check Jonas's armor for any sign he had been harmed while in the field. The war with Central had been drawn out long enough to not only take away the parents of the rebellions children, but also spread into their adult lives. Stonegit had dreaded the day Egil and Jonas had been eligible to fight on a battlefield, and he thanked Hel for every moment they came back from one. Jonas embarking on his duty while Egil remained behind for the same reason had practically pulled the bodyguard apart. But ultimately his role was still to remain with the King, not that Egil hadn't been more than accommodating of Stonegit's recent free time frenzy. "Yes." Stonegit finally answered after his brief loss in thought. "Yes we have...and as you might have expected, I did not win."

Jonas: "You'll get him." Jonas clapped Stonegit on the shoulder. It was a combination of encouragement, respect for what Stonegit had already accomplished, and the brotherly desire for his sibling to have his ass handed to him.

Stonegit: The clap sent a shockwave straight down Stonegit's arm, and buzzed across his teeth for good measure. He squinted deeply and masked the jolt of pain with a tight smile at Jonas's encouragement. The sparring sessions had been good for the soul. But rough on an arm that may as well have been crunched up in the back jaws of a Gronkle. "Not with a blade I won't." He replied, as he kept his posture relaxed.

Jonas: "You'll get him," Jonas repeated, just as genially and confidently.

Stonegit: "You have a great deal of confidence in an old man who's having to learn a bunch of new tricks." Stonegit grinned as he lifted up his sheathed, lance like sword and gave it a shake to emphasize his point.

Jonas: Jonas was about to good-naturedly point out that it was easy to have confidence in the man who'd taught him tricks when he saw Stonegit's sheathed weapon. "That what you're using?" he said, pointing, clearly interested.

Stonegit: Stonegit paused, as he ran a quick timeline in his head between what events happened between Jonas's departure and today. "A recommendation by my new tutor." At the mention of Kiri's brother, his mind wandered. Jonas and Sindri hadnt even been born yet that day...known yet that day... Stonegit gave a huff. "Turns out the Vidar's face was a little too hard for my hands liking so I've been upgraded to something that requires less...brute force." He went with after a moments consideration.

Jonas: Jonas shook his head at the comment about Vidar's face, and turned his answer towards the last comment. "It'll be an interesting direction," Jonas said. Quite a change. "I hope you'll find it suiting you." There were a few stops he needed to make in the palace, so he began walking slowly. The pace indicated he expected Stonegit to keep company and continue conversation. "You don't have more exciting reversals, do you? You're not about to tell me you've taken up needlework and are sewing bunny rabbits into your shirts?"

Stonegit: "Blunt will be thrilled that you're curious about his hobby, not mine." Stonegit joked as he walked easily beside him. He gave a contemplative roll of his eyes. Truthfully there was a great deal to tell Jonas, a great deal that would have been comforting to discuss. But it was for that reason that Stonegit hesitated. Ever since he was a child, Jonas had been easy to talk to. Compared to the conversational edges and, frankly, emotional compromise he was used to when speaking with Haddocks, Jonas had been a God send of mutal communication. Many a argument or misunderstandings between mixed parties had been neutralized due to his early sense of wisdom. When Jonas had grown into the young man he was now, he became someone Stonegit could talk to for hours on end...but with that came the knowledge that Jonas could now comprehend topics Stonegit would never have dared to burden a child, or even a emerging adult with. But everything that had happened over the last few xyz-instert-whatever-time-you-need-to-Tree-xyz while Jonas had been away had been such burdens. Some more recent than others. "Hmm..." Stonegit rubbed at his beard, his expression still lightheartedly thoughtful. "Well I suppose there are several events that could be considered such a thing." He started as he counted out a few fingers. "My new tutor is actually the brother of an old friend back from the dungeon. And I burnt up a couple of Wilderwest surrender contracts without permission to free some enemy hostages under the dead of night."

Jonas: The last sentence caught Jonas' attention, that's for sure. "Excuse me, you did what?"

Stonegit: Stonegit gave a quick glance to ensure they weren't being overheard, and then motioned with his head to step aside into a side room. Once he had clicked the door shut behind them, he faced Jonas. He contemplated his words. "This is, clearly, nothing I plan to repeat. Even to family, unless necessary. And I...I admit me bringing it up in the first place with you is truly a matter of selfishness." Stonegit gave a careful nod. "You recall my part in dealing with Enidrid? After our victory over the Wildest North?"

Jonas: Jonas bowed his head, eyes closing briefly, but other than that, held his constitution. He then nodded once, answering, "That event will not be easily forgotten." He kept his tone open, showing he was listening and respectful of Stonegit's words.

Stonegit: "Indeed..." Stonegit concurred grimly. "But in my grief I made a mistake. What I I did was then a desperate, and vain, attempt to undo that mistake." He found a seat, and rested a hand on the table beside him. "I imposed myself on the councils here and saw it fit to hold Enidrid's family hostage in these lands, and strip him of everything I could that wasn't his life...it was a betrayal of everything I had sought to fix in myself...and people who had no role in your father's death suffered." The hand that rested on the table closed into a fist. "So the draft I so foolishly wrote, and the documents that followed to support it...I destroyed, and the families returned under my protection."

Jonas: "That whiplash will twice-uproot the Wildest North. I'm unsure what their kingdom will make of this. I don't know how they'll respond to the Wilderwest. Hopefully, not antagonistically. Hopefully, they'll understand these are your actions and not the broader kingdom. There are mistakes," Jonas mulled, "but I see your desires are for improvement. To that, I give respect."

Jonas: Stonegit's eyes lowered. "Yes...it was foolish for me to do as well. I was damned either way. But I appreciate your understanding. Rest assured though, the blood debt Enidried had against Gareth was paid...and despite our retaliation hitting them harder than, truthfully anyone, had anticipated, their King was nevertheless spared. Them taking an antagonistic approach now is unlikely. In a moment of somewhat political clarity though, in a letter I framed the choice of releasing of the royal family from under our...my...immedate threat, as a gesture of goodwill. As if to say we have nothing to fear from them." He grimaced. "Sadly that was not the end of my...impulsive decision."

Part 2

[revelboo]

REVEL!!! I need more clumsy hearts oh my god 🙏

Absolutely loosing my mind over soundwave rn, the way you write him is so fucking scrumptious. I’ve read more in the last two months than i have in a VERY long time. Absolutely foaming at the mouth for more lol

Sure! I like the Waves. Just a what if scenario. 18+ Mass displaced mechs 🌶️

Clumsy Hearts Scenario- heat

Soundwave x Reader, Shockwave x Reader

• You don’t even realize he’s behind you until he growls and you spin, startled to see Shockwave mass displaced. For being so awkward and deliberate in his movements, he can be uncannily quiet when he wants to. And he’s venting deeply, antenna perking up. Stiffening when he reaches for you and hesitates, you feel almost guilty. Still find him incredibly unsettling, but you’re beginning to understand him better now. And after what Soundwave had told you about who he’d been before and what had happened to him, you’re trying harder. Trying not to flinch every time he touches you. Arm still outstretched, servos just shy of you, he still towers over you mass displaced. Don’t know if it’s that one optic or the lack of a face, but he sets your instincts unconsciously screaming that he’s dangerous. A threat. Especially when he’s growling at you and it’s like a switch flicking, heat flushing through you at the noise, aware of him in a way you’ve never been before.

• Afraid. Always afraid of him and it sparks through him, kindles memories he doesn’t want. Can’t understand his obsession with you. Why you matter to him, but Shockwave thinks of you at the strangest times. Unable to stop himself like he can’t stop reaching for you even though he knows you’ll shy away. Watching you hesitantly reach out in return, little fingers ghosting against the tips of his servos. And he reaches for you with his other hand, that little disjointed feeling shuddering through him when he sees the cannon at the end of his arm not another hand. Confusion lifting through him, cutting him apart. Then you’re lacing your fingers with his servos, palm pressed against his. “Hey, stay with me,” you whisper and he latches into the sound of your voice to keep from drowning in memories he can’t claim as his own.

• Servos stilling where’d he’d been compiling intelligence reports from various scouts on the Autobot’s activities, Soundwave’s head lifts to watch you soothing Shockwave. Talking him down. Single optic dimming as he bends toward you, helm bumping your head hard enough you wince. Staring at your hand in his like he’s not sure what to make of it. “Is this an indication of willingness to interface?” Pushing up from his desk as your mouth falls open, Soundwave mass shifts and vaults up with both of you. Amused as you flounder, unsure how to respond to Shockwave and he catches the faint difference in your scent. “Remove your coverings and present yourself,” Shockwave growls.

• Why is he like this? Well, the lobotomy, obviously, but still. It’s not like he’s the romantic type, but the bluntness definitely doesn’t put you in the mood. His demands you strip and assume the position not even surprising at this point. And arms come around you from behind, hearing the faint click of Soundwave’s mask retracting before his mouth brushes your throat to drain away all your tension. Feeling his hands slide over you, delving under your clothes. Coaxing. What’s gotten into the both of them? Not that you’re complaining when Soundwave cups you and delves a servo inside you. Shockwave’s helm bumping you again and he’s dragging your hand to him, making you realize he’s freed his spike when he presses your palm against it. And you’re aware of them, that heated metal and musked spice scent of them both intensifying. Going straight through you as you stroke Shockwave’s spike, push back into Soundwave with an embarrassingly needy noise.

• Can scent you, all heat and need to sing through him. Making his spike ache. Hurt to be inside you. Reaching with his other hand, he grips Shockwave’s shoulder and the bigger mech slowly goes down on his knees with a low growl of protest, antenna going back. Sliding his servo free of your wet heat, Soundwave begins impatiently stripping you. “Take him first,” he says, wants to watch you riding Shockwave before he claims you. See you reduce the broken, former Senator to a whining mess. Hands sliding to your hips, he nudges you forward, encouraging you to grind against Shockwave and he frees his own spike to rock himself against your back.

• Servos of his one hand gripping you as you slide yourself against the length of his spike, pushing at him with those little hands to encourage him to lay back and let you have your way. Feeling you slicking his spike when you move against him, teasing him until his antenna are back and his servos dig into your thigh before you finally take him deep. Straddling him as Soundwave sits on his legs behind you, hands cupping and stroking you as he moves with you. And you throw your head back against Soundwave, bouncing on his spike as the communications officer rocks against you. The scent of your heat almost overpowering when you move more urgently, riding him. Your full bond with Soundwave triggering this, making you more responsive to them. And it’s only just starting.

• Moving frantically on Shockwave’s spike, you can feel Soundwave’s dampening your lower back as he grinds against you. Hear his low, rumbling growls and feel every ridge and bump stroking inside you. Needy in a way that’s almost alarming and you’re not the only one affected. All three of you beyond words, existing only in the moment, in chasing that high. Hear the scientist groaning, hips lifting the inch or so he can with Soundwave pinning his legs. Those little whining, growls as much as the feeling of him stretching you tipping you over that edge.

• Denta grazing your neck as you cry out and Shockwave struggles to buck up into you when you tighten on him, Soundwave has to fight to not mark your soft skin. To not bite down. Palm sliding around to splay his servos against your lower belly as Shockwave fills you with a whine, as soon as he’s finished, Soundwave shifts to grip your hips, lifting you off of Shockwave’s spike to make you both whimper. Laying you out beside Shockwave on your belly, he hooks an arm under your hips, encouraging them up as he shifts behind you. “What did you do to me?” You protest as he drapes himself against you, lips brushing your neck and jaw. That need to spark you roaring through him and knowing that it’s going to get harder to resist. Already is. Wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything.

• “Mated you,” Soundwave murmurs as he shifts and buries himself inside you with a hard drive of his hips. “Spark bonded you.” Part of Shockwave is aware that he’s intruding right now. That you’re fully bonded to Soundwave, not him. And that he should be grateful to have access to you at all. Had never expected when he’d stolen you, that it would play out this way. With you as their little mate, not a pet. “Claimed you,” Soundwave adds as you moan, pushing back to meet the frantic drive of his hips. Can’t tear his optic away as Soundwave rears up, hips pumping against you. Hearing your little cries and the wet sound of you taking Soundwave’s spike.

• Crying out as he ruthlessly drives you to that peak again, he shudders when you come apart with a cry, and his palm thumps down by your head, bracing himself as he keeps shallowly rocking his hips. And you whimper, feeling the mesh at the base of his spike swelling inside you, knotting you together as he groans and you hasn’t even known that he could do that. Stretched almost uncomfortably tight around his spike, you feel his mouth pressing soft kisses against any skin he can reach and then he’s filling you in hard bursts. Still trying to lazily move against you, before he’s shifting against your back, encouraging you to sprawl on your belly, carefully bracing his weight so he doesn’t crush you. “Little love,” he whispers, nipping at your ear lobe. “My little mate.”

• Shuddering as you tighten on him again, fisting his spike and he’s releasing again. Can’t stop. How long will your heat last? Has no idea, but wants to breed you, spark you. Grow his family with you. Mouth brushing your neck, he’s aware of Shockwave watching you both. Of the longing in that broken stare. For the first time in a long time, his focus is shifting to something besides war. Daring to hope and dream of an after even though he knows too well how dangerous that is. How fragile what he has is. Is almost too much to hope that he’s allowed this. That he can keep you. Be happy. Needs it so bad it hurts.

He’s not allowed to cook, but he can play in the dirt

[agentsquirrelsgotrobots]

"Tarn, what the fuck? You said you would keep it penned up when you smoke!"

"Nick-Nickel, it's fiiiiiinnnneeee. We found em, right?"

"Get your aft out of my medbay, and get a shower while yer at it! You stink!"

"Aww. It's so cute." The bot that was currently in Darkmount's face was black and hot pink, with purple accents. She had a round, kind face, and custom pink eye lenses. She was heavy set, and looked like she could bench press Griffin Rock firehouse.

As Darkmount brought up her file after clearing the system errors, he realized she easily could, with all four rescue bots inside to boot.

"Darkmount, right? I know you can't talk, but I might have a treat for ya later. Picked up some klickat sparks. Might like em with some engex sometime?"

Darkmount let out an involuntary whine, and twitched uncomfortably.

"Well then, after Nickel gets ya patched up, it's a date! I gotta go, and let ya get some rest. Pretty sure Kaon ain't doing too good." She slipped on a gas mask and left to kick the rest of the DJD out of the smoking den.

Later, Tesarus snuck Darkmount up to her room. Darkmount realized it had been renovated, the prison blocks underneath removed to make the ceilings higher.

It's not like the cells were ever really used.

"Well, um, here's the thing. I might be using mass change right now?" Darkmount looked confused, and Tesarus continued. "Yeah, the ceiling in this room is a little low, but it's the best Tarn could do. And I can't question the boss, right?"

Darkmount blinked, still groggy from Nickel's cocktail of overdose prevention drugs. All he really wanted to do was curl up in the palm of Tesarus's oddly soft hands- Suddenly, Tesarus lurched, and Darkmount was another twenty feet off the ground.

Darkmount chattered in fear, then whined in embarrassment as Tesarus giggled and shifted Darkmount into the palm of her much bigger hand.

"I did try to warn youuuu!" She sang, giggling again. "Shockwave used me as a test subject for a procedure to be used on one of the human converts. It worked a little too well, I miiight be 86ft tall."

"Mrphh." Darkmount grunted, fighting recharge with all his might. "Pfffffthhhh." He slumped over, and recharge pulled him under.

Tesarus, of course, cooed, and, after responding to the dozens of angry comms from Nickel, brought him back to her. She received a welt on her head for her stupidity, but cheerily informed Nickel that seeing Darkmount was worth it.

[twoeyedshockwave-lol]

The punishment

Warningzzzz: execution, nightmares, gore, failed romance. Forced breakup by other party, general trauma, angst, and an oc interacting with a cannon character

Autodale fan series, WARNING PROBABLY CRINGE BC MY CRINGY OC IS IN HERE. PROCEDE WITH CAUTION.

Sadly written by Two eyed shockwave.

It all happened so fast. Hive finding out. My lover- everything fell apart so quickly. What happened? Why did it have to be like that? Why did they- no. Why am- "Shadow?" I was then snapped out of my trance. "C-charels." I mumbled back. I was instantly brought back to the right state of mind when I heard his calming voice flood my audio receptors. He then sat me down on his couch and wrapped his arms around my waist, I shivered at his warm and slow touch. I look at Charles' eyes as he removes his mask, his eyes twinkle like the sun. He's the only reason why I'm still going, why I'm not going to kill myself in this God-forsaken city. "The... the thoughts are back again?" He whispered to me, "They never left me, my dear." I mumbled back. Charles then held me closer, caressing my chin as I was slowly calming down. "It's okay, I'm here shadow." Charles then lifted my hat a little to reveal my glowing eyes. I look back at him to see his sweet face, at the same time I am reminded of the grotesque episode I keep having. I am reminded that if we were caught as a gay couple Charles would be executed, I am reminded of the blood that will spill on the floor, the blood of my lover seeping into my shoes. I am reminded that hive may rewire me to forget about Charles forever, I am constantly reminded that hive will make me kill Charles instead of him being sent to the usual massacre of the "uglies". I am reminded that Hive will LAUGH at me for even loving him. HIVE WilL make fun of me, they will re-wire me. I will be reminded that it's going to be my fault for Charles's death. The death of the one who is my everything, the one who keeps me going. I will- "Hey, Hey, shadow? Shadow stay with me love. Shadow. Shadow hey?" I awaken again to his calming voice. I break, I couldn't hold it any longer, I wept with no tears into his arms. His reassurance then fled my receptors again while I breathed and wept hard on his chest. "Shhhh it's okay shadow, it's okay" he whispered and removed my hat, he caressed my head and skimmed through my wires. I calmed down again in his arms. "Please...don't leave me Charles..."I whimpered a little. "I won't ever love, I'll never leave you."

Uhh so yeah, kinda cringe right, anyways, basically Shadow had these episodes of him being forced to kill his lover as punishment because hive found out that yk they're gay and stuff. Charles is my oc and he's a cover-up mayor so people don't suspect things lol. Uhhh so yea. Shadow is not my character and was made by the lovely David Armbsy, go check out his Patreon and his YouTube