#tf nycto | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dragonxjewels · 6 months ago

Text

Background Noise

Thrash/Nycto smut fic, 2570 words, 18+ only obviously, kinda beta’d?

Original Characters, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, PWP, Watching Porn, Mutual Masturbation (almost), Frottage, Rough Sex, Biting, BDSM Elements, Power Bottom, Riding, Edging, Banter, Humor

Routine. That’s what Nycto knew, what he’d always known- create a schedule, stick to it, keep his day cut into little blocks of time, rigid and utilitarian. He’d been pretty good about that for such a long time, but this new thing, whatever this thing was he had going with Thrashblade- hm. Not routine at all. Not that the idea of deviating from a schedule bothered him- (it did, a little, he wouldn’t admit) but it was a learning curve- yes he’d call it that.

Making time for another person was almost entirely foreign to him, not like scheduled meetings to relieve tension, but like… quality time- however that was supposed to work in the middle of a war. His stride carried him to Thrash’s quarters- the mech had been quite agreeable in offering Nycto his room code- perhaps the mech felt that he had nothing to hide, maybe he was just excited at the prospect of impromptu interface sessions.

Punching in the six digit code, Nycto was immediately greeted by- sounds. Yeah, those sure were sounds. A tacky soundtrack playing under the foreground of exaggerated moans and clanking- and wet squishing noises. Okay. He shut the door behind him quickly, shuffling in, expecting to see Thrash sprawled out on his berth or in a chair near the view screen, doing what would naturally be done along with the viewing of such material- but he wasn’t.

“Hey there, Commander. Little surprise visit?” The ‘copter mech looked up from a data pad- actually doing a proper mission report, double spaced, correctly ordered, numbered subsections- responsible documentation.

“You… hm. You’re working?” Nycto hesitated around his words, optics flicking to the screen every few seconds, not subtly.

“…Yes?” Thrash picked up a mug of- regular energon- not high grade, not engex- normal- and sipped it.

What was with this mech in front of him? Picture perfect behavior, filling out his report pages, sat politely at his table, with an incredibly racy porno playing at near max volume not three strides away from him. His interface panels were notably closed, faceplates cool, rotors stilled- was he genuinely not affected by his media of choice? Was this some sort of… torture endurance training?

“I’m… So curious right now.” Nycto pulled up a seat at Thrash’s workspace, settling next to him, glancing to look over his work, pleased with how well organized it was- he wouldn’t have assumed the mech put genuine care into his busywork.

“Because of the movie?” He snickered a little as he scrolled back up to double check an earlier paragraph, meticulous.

“Obviously because of the movie.” Nycto scoffed, hazarding a slightly longer glance at the screen- he was pretty sure this was some… flight frame fetish piece.

“Down and Dirty Seeker Whores 3… the extended cut… with director commentary.” Thrash shrugged, as if that weren’t exactly the way it sounded.

“Uh huh.” Nycto watched the screen out of his periphery- noting that at least one of the main actors was painted quite a lot like himself, different kibble, a bit shorter, but definitely similar.

Looking up from his data pad and taking a good long pull of his drink, Thrash eyed the screen- the violet painted seeker took a hard slap to the aft with a paddle, echoing with a debauched scream.

“Nice.” He mumbled to himself before returning to his data pad, paying no mind to Nycto’s scandalized expression.

“You work under these conditions? Willfully?” Nycto’s brow betrayed his judgement- which only served to make the larger mech laugh again.

“Well nobody came in here and forced me to put the movie on,” he played, setting the pad down and drawing his gaze up Nycto’s frame, finally showing some sort of distraction, “I like the background noise.”

“It… doesn’t do anything to you?” Nycto squirmed a bit in his seat, again, not so subtly as he thought, encouraging a little rumble of approval from the larger mech- oops.

“I like to think I’ve got a good sense of self control. ‘Sides, this isn’t the most attention grabbing thing I could have put on screen.” He couldn’t speak in a way that his smirk wasn’t plainly audible, as if Nycto could hear his dentae teasing out from behind his lips with every word.

“Hm.” Nycto pretended with his best effort to be disinterested in the movie, which had shifted to a zoomed in scene of that violet mech getting their valve absolutely stuffed- no holds barred, wet and sloppy fragging.

“You’re a little uptight about this stuff, aren’t you?” Thrash scooted his seat away from the table, optics heavy on Nycto, the way his wings twitched, the way his servos clenched at his sides, the working of his neck cables as he feigned disinterest.

“This sort of material is… usually viewed with certain intentions in mind.” Nycto was being so stiff about this, Thrash thought, kinda cute actually; how many times had they fragged like the mechs in this movie, but seeing these things on screen got him all nervous?

“Come here.” He patted his thigh, heavy palm turning up to beckon the flustered mech his way.

Nycto bit at his cheek, not at all opposed to some contact, but… Primus, all these noises… those actors were really going at it. He stood and headed Thrash’s way, throwing a leg over his thighs to straddle his lap, unsure exactly what the mech was up to, but willing to find out. Hot servos ran up his thighs to sit on his hips, eliciting the slightest shiver from his backstrut, he was sure Thrash felt it regardless.

“Let’s handle some of those intentions, huh?” Thrash tapped at Nycto’s modesty panel, teasing a claw at the seam in front.

Nycto took a stiff vent inward and leaned back a touch, letting the interface mechanisms click and plating transform out of the way, letting his array come forward and out. His spike was aching, alerted by the sounds from the moment he’d entered the room, embarrassing, really. Thrash didn’t seem to think so- he slid his own panel back and let his spike pressurize in the air between them, it was obvious that he hadn’t been painfully pressurized the whole time, he was simply rising to the task now, which again, sent a little bubbling of embarrassment through Nycto’s abdomen.

Thrash grinned at him, toothy and smug as ever, as he wrapped his servo around both of their spikes, enjoying the way Nycto’s jaw clenched, very cute he thought. He wondered how often the mech self serviced… he didn’t seem the type, but then again, that was just Nycto- he didn’t seem the type to do much anything unrelated to his job, and yet? Thrash knew better. Giving their spikes a good pump, the sounds of the movie almost seemed louder now. Nycto’s fans idled at a decent volume, letting him know he was definitely doing something the mech liked. A few more experimental pumps and Thrash found himself falling into a good rhythm with his commander- no, Nycto wasn’t his commander- not right now, at least.

“Hnmf- you… act like this is just normal.” Nycto vented, not sure where his optics should go- the screen? Thrash? The ceiling perhaps.

“Kind of is.” Thrash chuckled softly as he drew his servo up and down with a little twisting motion at the wrist, pressing his spike as flush as he could go against Nycto’s.

How normal could this really be? Nycto found himself biting at his lip, optics flicking between the scene of two flight frames fragging sideways and Thrash’s servo working their spikes together- his own spike was providing plenty of pre fluid to slick the motions. Thrash was weeping a bit as well, not nearly as much- enough to dribble over his piercing, which was nudging against him with every pump- he wondered whether that had been an aesthetic choice or if it had been intended for pleasure? Hard to think when the screen by them zoomed close on the two actors screaming and cumming- for the fifth time since Nycto had entered the room.

“Ease up. You’re cute when you’re nervous, but unless you're tryna edge yourself, you should relax.” Thrash leaned forward and pressed his hot glossa over Nycto’s lips, remembering how easy it was to get the mech into the groove of things with a little kissing- he was simple at his core, liked a little romance, as much as he pretended not to.

Nycto un-tensed his jaw, letting Thrash slide his glossa in to draw across the roof of his mouth while he gave them both a firm, slow, squeezing pump to their spikes, feeling something prickle in his spark as Nycto moaned into his mouth from the tactful motions. Clawed digits crept their way up Thrash’s chest plating, digging in roughly between armor plates, his rotors shivered, clacking against each other almost like a rattle- yeah, that eased the mech up alright- he just liked to be kissed nicely.

“You like the movie? Picked this one out special… one of the actors has a certain resemblance.” He bit down on Nycto’s lip, playing nice, not drawing energon- although he could, and wanted to.

“Nnh…. Noticed. Pervert.” Nycto growled against him, sneering, lip curling to flash his own sharp fangs, two could play the biting game- he was familiar.

“Mmm… it seemed to work for you. Surprised you didn’t beg me to bend you over.” He clacked his dentae together harshly in a mock-threat to bite for real this time, rotors rattling loudly now.

“Beg? Hilarious.” Nycto lifted himself up, noting the split-second look of confusion on Thrash’s faceplates before he settled himself back down- slipping his valve right down onto that twitching spike- his own jolting at the sensation.

“Frag!!” Thrash hissed, digging claws into Nycto’s hips as the mech took him down to the base, valve kissing his hips- what a practiced individual he was.

“Nnhh… such a slut…” Thrash rolled his hips up and into all the little node clusters he was so familiar with, “Couldn’t just take a spike jerking, huh? Had to put your valve to work?”

“Don’t complain- you’re getting your spike wet one way or the other.” Nycto bounced and gyrated, pushing the broad mech against the back of his chair, threatening to knock them both over.

“Nnnh! Not a complaint- love this… frag, love this a lot…” he rolled his helm back and watched his spike disappear in and out of that shiny valve he liked so much, noting how worked up Nycto must be with his own spike dripping and bouncing with every motion.

“Know you do- bet you think about this all day- you and your filthy viewing material- imagining me on your spike any time you have a spare thought run through that dense processor of yours-!” Nycto practically growled at him, riding harshly as Thrash figured he possibly could, he could already see little scuffs of violet paint on his lap- oh he loved those trophies.

“Got so many things I wanna do to you, one of these days- gonna write a fragging list.” He practically choked as Nycto’s calipers squeezed, he was doing this on purpose.

When Thrash was making the moves, he could wreck this pretentious mech with overload after overload, when he was in charge, and he could use his frame exactly how he liked- but like this? With Nycto in control? Riding him with a vengeance? The mech had steady control- edging himself perfectly as if Thrash were a toy to him. It was ridiculously hot- doing things to his brain module he’d never considered- oh frag yeah.

“If you’re making a list- I’m making a list.” He leaned down to bite- repayment for earlier- the difference being that he was less nice, tasting energon on his glossa and kissing the mech with it- making him savor his own flavor.

“Nnnnh!! As long as the list is full of whatever this is? I’ll cope.” He groaned and shuddered, frag, this mech was gonna make him overload and fast.

At some point or another, the credits had begun to roll on the screen- how many people did it really take to film a porno? Seventy two evidently. Fascinating. At least now there were no raucous noises to distract them with. Nycto was able to focus better now, splaying his thighs as he bounced, letting his spike drip freely over their connected hips as he held on tightly, he’d gotten so good at this over the years, not that Thrash would know anything about it, given that he usually took assertive control at the first opportunity- he had no idea what Nycto could do when he had focus. Well, he was finding out now, right?

“Primus- frag- how are you holding on? You always cum fast!” Thrash growled, face desperate, condensation plainly visible on his cheeks, forming a rivulet which traveled down his jaw.

“You always take control. I have it now. You get to beg.” He was bluffing at this point- he couldn’t maintain his edge for much longer, the built up charge was beginning to feel almost painful, he needed an overload soon, but he needed to make Thrash cum first this time- it was imperative to his point.

“Frag!! Okay!! Please!!” There it was- didn’t even put up a fight, nice.

“Good mech-!” Nycto strained, letting his calipers flutter tight, cycling down to squeeze Thrash’s aching spike as he bounced with more vigor- more intention.

“PRIMUS-!!” Thrash threw his helm back and bucked hard, claws pulling Nycto’s hips flush with his as he spilled everything he had deep into the mech.

“Ghhk-!!” Nycto tensed and let the warm sensation of the transfluid filling him tip him over his edge, his tank searing with blinding charge as he overloaded.

Nycto painted himself pink with transfluid, his spike throbbing in a mixture of pain and relief from the delayed overload while his valve stayed tight- Thrash’s bulging spike forming a perfect seal to keep all that fluid inside of him- it would be a mess when they separated, but who cared at this point. They were already a mess, paint transfer and claw marks, Thrash’s bleeding lip, Nycto’s sticky abdomen, yeah, a mess that would need cleaning regardless.

“Frag… frag… Nyc… didn’t know you had that in ya…” Thrash seemed practically dazed- a thought that tickled Nycto with light and bubbly amusement, he’d spent the mech well.

“You never asked.” He scoffed, bringing a servo up to pet the big mech’s helm, dragging claw tips across his vents.

“How come… that’s the first time?” He was still sincerely catching his metaphorical breath, tilting his helm into the idle touches.

“I prefer to let you take control.” Nycto admitted.

“Why is that?” He hoped it didn’t sound condescending.

“Don’t like having to constantly be in charge. You let me free.” He looked away, his expression something crooked and awkward, but sincere.

“I’m… glad I can do that for you.” He gave the mech’s hips a squeeze, not a needy one this time, something more along the lines of soothing.

“…Thank you.” That expression of Nycto’s looked a little more intense now, indescribable, if not for the workings of his neck cables to insinuate an awkward appreciation deep in his chest.

“Don’t mind you flipping the script on me now and again though… this was very fun.”

#fanfic #valveplug #tf nycto #tf thrashblade #tf oc #transformers oc #transformers #maccadam

6 notes · View notes

dragonxjewels · 7 months ago

Text

Pent Up

Thrash/Nycto smut fic, 3276 words, 18+ obviously, beta’d (I wrote this when I should have been sleeping)

Original Characters, PWP, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Mutual Pining, Companionable Banter, technically they’re kind of slow burn but they fuck anyways yippee

—

Nycto had, in a word…. Fragging had it with Thrash’s teasing.

It seemed like every time the two crossed paths on base, there was some sort of comment, or even some manner of touching that would rile Nycto to high hell, and Thrash would just… snicker about it. What kind of bastard, what sort of mixed signals- did Thrash mean any of it? Was Nycto reading into things? Frag this.

He stewed on the conflict, grinding his dentae as he attempted to distract himself with work. His personal ship needed tending to in the hangar bay, after all. He was certain he’d overlooked a firewall update on the ship’s communication console last time he’d needed to use it.

As always, he kept his EM field tight and restricted as he made his way to the hangar, every so often passing one of his subordinates who visibly flinched at crossing paths with him- unusual he thought, perhaps his expression was a bit much. He attempted to soften his faceplates, but gave up when he reached his destination, sighing his frustrations out as he extended the ramp into his ship- it was sizable enough for one or two mechs to occupy for a short while- modest sleeping arrangements, a fueling station tucked away in the corner, dimmed out window ports, functional, but cozy.

“Hey mech, what’cha up to?” Nycto nearly jumped out of his frame- how had he not heard Thrash’s heavy footfalls coming up behind him?!

“Primus, Thrashblade- do you just teleport places?” Nycto snipped at the grinning thug, cutting his optics at him for good measure.

“Ah, maybe you should get your audials checked out, I wasn’t sneaking.” He chuckled and peeked up into Nycto’s ship, a little curious.

“Whatever. Swear you came out of thin air, though…” Nycto grumbled as he stepped up into his ship, noting that this pest was actually following him up- a little presumptuous, but not necessarily unwelcome, he supposed.

“So, you takin’ a little trip or something?” Thrash looked around, servos on his hips idly as he took a good look at the arrangements.

“Just maintenance… need to process some security updates on the computer systems.” Nycto’s voice relaxed a bit as he retracted the ship’s ramp, closing up the hatch.

He wasn’t a fan of surveillance, and hated the idea that anyone could just pass by and hear their conversation- even if it was mundane. Hence, he often shut doors behind him wherever he went. Thrash quirked an optic ridge behind his visor, wondering for just a moment if Nycto had given them privacy for any interesting reasons- though he knew the mech was just a private kind of person.

“Right… want me to take a look?” Thrash offered, stepping up beside the seeker to look over the computer display, noting that it looked as if Nycto had neglected to install the last few updates.

“You fancy yourself some kind of flight console computer savant?” Nycto verbally nudged, typing in a few key commands to get the updating process started.

“I know a bit. How long has it even been since you used this thing? You’ve got updates from decacycles ago.” Thrash wondered if Nycto was one of those types to be weird about updates, not that it was too uncommon.

“Haven’t had a reason to take a trip off base in a while. I’ve been occupied training the new wave of troops.” He admitted, stiffening a little as he noticed how close Thrash had gotten while looking over the system.

“Huh. You should get out more- might do some good for that chronic uptightness of yours.” Thrash chuckled and placed an idle servo on Nycto’s waist while he overlooked the list of security updates that had been sidelined.

Nycto’s wings went rigid at the touch- it certainly wasn’t the first time Thrash had put his assuming servos on his frame- the mech liked to get familiar. Yet, with the privacy they had this time, the darkened windows, the hatch shut tight behind them- Nycto didn’t feel the need to shoo the mech away for once.

Thrash zoned out for a moment- he had only been pretending to be focused on the computer update so that he could sneak a servo around Nycto’s waist- but he had expected to be swatted away by now. He glanced at the mech beside him, something about his wing posture was different than usual, he wished he could interpret it somehow, but he knew next to nothing about wing communication. What he could interpret was the tint of color on Nycto’s faceplate, the hot energon resting just below the surface of his cheeks.

“You okay?” Was all he could think to ask, sure, he liked to tease him, but he certainly didn’t want to overstep either.

Nycto’s wing twitched a little- again, in a way that Thrash couldn’t make sense of. The seeker tilted his helm to actually look face to face, Thrash felt a little warmth in his own cheeks now with the way Nycto’s optics seared at him. There was just no way he was reading this right- Thrash frequently found himself fantasizing about this mech, always getting frivolous ideas in his head- surely this was one of those moments, and this wasn’t really how he thought it was- or that’s what he tried to convince himself of right before the seeker lunged.

Thrash’s spark skipped a beat as he was tackled into the ship’s console- Nycto expertly brought him down to his level in a flurry of motion. Thrash’s optics went wide as he gripped his clawed digits into Nycto’s frame, steadying them as he scrambled to keep them upright.

Nycto was done trying to interpret this mech’s flirtations- in the privacy of his personal ship, this was the best opportunity he was going to get to decipher the mech’s intentions. He had him pinned, showing Thrash that he wasn’t the only one capable of making moves- and the mech only seemed to want to draw him closer, gripping Nycto’s frame excitedly- that answers that question, Nycto thought. Now that he knew Thrash actually wanted things to escalate- that he wasn’t just flirting for the sake of flirting- now he could do what he wanted.

Nycto crushed their mouths together- a mess of motion and teeth dragging against lips as Thrash wrapped his arms around him to pull him in deeper. The sound of plating sliding against plating filled the air around them as they tried to find some sort of rhythm with their frantic open mouthed kissing. Thrash groaned happily as he reveled in the feeling of Nycto’s fangs against his lips- he wondered if it would be too much of him if he ran his servos along the mech’s wings.

Nycto’s claws gripped into Thrash’s chest plating, his fans had clicked on at some point, which only spurred on Thrash’s confidence, knowing that Nycto was so riled up by this, he felt so wanted. Pushing aside his hesitations, Thrash smoothed his palms up Nycto’s back and gently fondled at his wings- which immediately elicited a beautifully needy noise from the mech, a muffled whine into his lips.

“Heheh…. And here I thought you seeker types were all prissy.” Thrash chuckled, grinning as he felt Nycto’s lips curl into a scowl.

“Sorry, sorry… Primus, you’re gorgeous, been wanting to get my servos on your wings like this for so long…” he admitted a little breathlessly, which seemed to satisfy Nycto enough for him to stop frowning.

“Admitting to having perverse thoughts about a superior officer… that’s bold.” Nycto groaned a little as Thrash’s digits found a particularly sensitive bit of paneling.

“Mmm…. You’re right, I’ll be good.” Thrash snickered, feeling gratified with every small sound his touches earned from the seeker.

“You’ve never been good a day in your life…” definitely true, if not a little bit of an exaggeration.

“Sure… But I can make you feel good.” Thrash practically purred into Nycto’s audial as he scooped his servos up under the mech’s thighs to lift him.

“Wh- oh!” Nycto found himself being hoisted in the air; he scrambled with his claws to find hold upon the larger mech’s chest, his optics wide as he realized he was being carried to the sleeping arrangements in his own shuttle.

Thrash was… in a word- completely presumptuous if he thought he could just take Nycto to bed like that. Granted, he was presuming correctly. Nycto felt his fans kick into overdrive, working to cool his rapidly heating frame as he wondered how this was suddenly happening, how he’d kicked off this chain of events that up until this point he’d only fantasized about.

Thrash set the seeker down oh so gently onto the soft mesh of the berth, hovering over him with his palms resting on either side of his frame. He was still rushing through similar thoughts in his own processor- trying to decide if this was a particularly gratifying dream, or if Nycto had really finally returned his advances- sharp claws digging into his chest said it was real, and that he needed to get a move on.

“I wanna make you feel so good, pretty bird…” Thrash rumbled, once again closing the gap between them to bite at Nycto’s lips, reveling in the little gasp he was treated with in return as the slighter mech grabbed him tight.

“Nnnh… You’d better not be all talk…” Nycto growled back at him, the edges of his visor already a little fogged with the heat coming off of his face.

“Open your panel and I’ll prove it.” Thrash nipped at his neck cables now, grazing his sharp teeth temptingly over an energon line; Decepticons were all about these little shows of power, these empty threats of look at what a compromising position I’ve got you in, and how even so, I’m only interested in pleasing you.

Wordlessly, Nycto let his interface array free, flinching a bit as the hot metal mesh and plating was exposed to the air- his spike pressurized fully, grazing against his own abdominal plating, and his valve embarrassingly hot and plush- already leaking a bit of fluid. There was no hiding that he was so into this, and very ready to put all the teasing aside to just get to it.

“Frag yes, you’re so warm, steaming actually…” Thrash noted as he immediately brought a servo down to cup Nycto’s valve, tracing clawed digits along the scalding mesh.

Nycto let his body roll in anticipation, arching his back a little to scoot his hips down closer to Thrash, who grinned at the display, oh so terribly pleased with himself. He went ahead and circled his thumb around Nycto’s throbbing anterior node, applying a little pressure to the brightly glowing yellow bead and watching Nycto’s abdominal plating clench in response. The seeker was so responsive- and expressive for that matter. This mech never let an emotion slip in public, but here in the privacy of this little ship, he was showing Thrash everything. It made his spark melt a little.

He slipped a digit into the opening, watching intently through his tinted visor as Nycto’s face revealed how much he loved this- his usually stern façade softened into a show of pleasure, his lips a little fuller without being pressed into a thin hard line of frustration, a little tinted with bruised color from the rough kissing- a sight to behold. He took a second digit with no dismay, whining and angling his hips as Thrash made a beckoning motion with the two digits, pressing the tips into a soft spot inside of him. Nycto’s claws scratched into his chest plating, leaving little marks in his paint as he shuddered, clenching around the digits he was given.

He clearly wanted more, and Thrash couldn’t earnestly keep his spike behind its panel anymore- it was too pressurized. The mechanisms hissed as the modesty panel slipped aside and his spike sprung forth, pressurizing the rest of the way in the cool air. Nycto tilted his helm up to get a look at what he was going to be working with, biting his lip as he noted that Thrash was, in fact, girthy to match his frame. He hadn’t expected any less really, it wasn’t as if the size was disproportionate, but it would be a bit of a stretch for sure. Meanwhile Thrash couldn’t help grinning as Nycto eyed him up. He knew he looked good, but seeing the seeker devour him with his optics still stoked his ego.

“I’ve got you, sweetspark…” Thrash rumbled as he removed his digits from Nycto’s needy valve, loving every noise of dissent the mech made to being empty again.

He gripped the base of his spike and slid the shaft along Nycto’s folds, not entering, but giving the mech some good external stimulation while he coated his length in the slick lubricants. It was lewd, it was pornographic- seeing his spike rut against Nycto’s pretty, dark valve- the carbon black plating so shiny with lubricants. Nycto was biting his lip again, holding back demands as he ached to be stuffed full with this tease’s thick spike. Thrash took a mental photograph, trying to commit Nycto’s face to memory to think back to later- Primus, why did this mech in particular get him so excited?

He angled himself to Nycto’s entrance now, pressing the tip in just past the exterior folds, looking up to make proper eye contact with the mech- and the seeker’s optics said everything, searing with desire with a look that made his length twitch hard in his servo. He grinned as his spark rushed with confidence and excitement, and pushed himself deep into Nycto’s valve, trying his hardest to keep his optics open so he could watch the mech’s expression as he did- and by the gods it was worth it.

Nycto’s mouth went agape and his optics squeezed shut as the most debauched sound escaped his vocalizer, a strangled groan of pleasure as he felt himself being filled more tightly than he ever had before. Granted he’d interfaced with mechs larger than himself before, but Thrash was a bruiser- he was a heavy hitter sent into battle to keep pace with some of the bigger Autobots… he was no seeker. The mech’s spike was thick, and ridged, and stretched him so perfectly- enough to show off his girth but still be comfortable and delicious. Nycto spread his thighs wide to give the mech room to work, shuddering a little as his sensors pinged with pleasure.

Thrash groaned heavily as he bottomed out, wildly excited seeing how Nycto has accommodated his length down to the base, how they were now fully connected hip to hip, it sent a shiver of delight down his spinal strut and straight to his spike. Nycto wiggled to get his legs more splayed apart, setting his thruster-clad heels up on Thrash’s waist, and rolling his torso to get a little friction from their connected base.

Now that they were properly comfortable, Thrash began to rock his hips, setting a relatively gentle pace with shallow thrusts as he traced his servos along Nycto’s frame, trying to decide where to hold him. Nycto whimpered softly as Thrash’s spike ground against a cluster of sensors, amazed at how such gentle motion could do so much. Thrash opted to scoop his servos around the seeker’s hips, lifting his aft off of the bed a bit so that he could thrust with downward force into him, picking up the pace with deeper thrusts, getting a little rougher as he felt the mech relax around him.

This angle gave Nycto the perfect alignment- he rolled his helm back into the soft bedsheets and shuddered as Thrash thrusted down into him with rhythm and force, hitting all of his most sensitive spots with every clang of plating on plating. The sounds were driving him wild, the slippery noise their interface arrays made together, the harsh sound of their armor plating clashing with each thrust, Thrash’s huffs of air and hitched groans as he chased the high they were building together- Primus, his face looked so good like this. Thrash was handsome, no doubt, he couldn’t deny that from the first time he met him, but like this? With his lips parted to take in puffs of air as he moaned and gritted his dentae- with the droplets of condensation rolling down his faceplate? He looked decadent. Nycto couldn’t help clenching his valve in excitement as he thought of how lovely Thrash’s face would look when they hit their climax- and doing so brought a gasp of delight from Thrash’s intake.

“Nnnhg- keep squeezing me like that ‘nd I’m gonna overload in you-“ he warned, panting heavily as he gripped into Nycto’s hips with clawed digits.

“Hahhh… that’s the end goal anyways, right?” Nycto pulled the mech close to kiss his parted lips, drinking in the sounds he made as he neared his end.

“You want me to cum inside?” Thrash sounded a little hopeful, but mostly incredibly horny.

“If you don’t…. Mmh!!! I’ll be disappointed- ah!!” Nycto couldn’t focus on words at the moment, he was too busy with the static in his vision telling him that overload was impending.

Thrash was completely spurred on by that notion- he certainly didn’t want to disappoint Nycto. He bucked wildly into the seeker’s frame, using his clawed servos to pull his hips against him with every thrust now, filling the air with harsh clanging. He wondered if they would have paint transfer by the time they were done… he wouldn’t mind having some scuffs of purple on his thighs from this.

The roughness was clearly working for Nycto, as he couldn’t contain a series of loud moans and expletives that poured from his vocalizer, his fangs felt dangerous against Thrash’s lips as he tried to metaphorically swallow Nycto’s noises, hoping that the walls of the ship were thick enough to keep this encounter private- the last bit of functional thought in Thrash’s processor as he felt his transfluid tank go critical. He was going to burst any second now.

He didn’t have time to process the thought that he was about to overload before Nycto arched his back and shook heavily- his valve clenching and rippling around his spike- which toppled him over the edge.

The slew of moans and vulgarities that ensued was almost inaudible to either of them as their overload sent static throughout their frames. The sensation of rippling electricity being followed by Thrash’s spike spilling gush after gush of fluid deep into Nycto’s valve.

Nycto whined frantically as he pulled Thrash’s heavy frame in closer to his own, letting the mech more or less collapse onto him as they rode out the aftermath of their climax, just venting heavily and clinging to each other’s burning frames.

They stayed like that for a while, just letting their frames cool back to normal while the residual static fizzled away in the quiet shuttle cabin. Thrash wanted so badly to shower Nycto with so many sweet words and praises, he wanted to tell him how perfect he was, but he thought it might ruin the moment somehow. Nycto, in his own mind, was silently telling the mech just how badly he had needed that, just how desperate he had been for all the touch, how good it made him feel to be wanted. Neither of them said anything, though Nycto settled to wrap his arms around Thrash’s frame as they rested there for a while, letting the unspoken appreciation hang in the air.

#tf nycto #tf thrashblade #valveplug #tf oc #transformers oc #oc x oc #fanfic

11 notes · View notes

dragonxjewels · 8 months ago

Text

Nycto Bio

Name: Nycto

Gender etc: Mech, mlm

Faction: Decepticon

Age: ≈5myo (forged 600k yrs pre-war)

Occupation: Aerial Commander (one of several), Strategist (prewar member of Vosnian Wing Guard, a state militia dedicated to preparation against Quintesson invasion)

Altmode: Cybertronian Jet

Personality: Quietly passionate, calculating, protective, secretive, harsh but kind, dedicated

Likes: Loud music, scathing banter, a good fight

Dislikes: Hypocrisy, PDA, surveillance

Skills: Flight/combat precision, luck based outlier, multilingual, night vision, battle strategy

Flaws: Risk-taker, vengeful

Little things

- Luck is definitely an asset, and Nycto is oddly lucky, surviving things that he likely shouldn’t and landing blows that were unlikely to hit, he fears that one day his luck will run out.

- He is deeply loving of his allies, though he hates to admit it. He fears showing publicly noticeable affection will put those he cares for in danger.

- Like all higher officers, he faces (often severe) punishment for breaking protocol, failing missions, or questioning orders, so he avoids (being caught) doing any of those things.

- The blades on his forearms do not come off, they are a part of his forged frame and can be felt, they can also be extended forward.

- Nycto speaks Neocybex, but predominantly Vosnian and wingspeak, he speaks some Old Cybertronian, but will never be caught using it.

- He pretends to be significantly meaner than he actually is, he is afraid to show softness publicly.

-His given name was Duskblade, he changed his name after making a mistake that he wanted to hide from.

#tf oc #transformers oc #tf nycto #transformers

6 notes · View notes

xdantesinfernox · 7 months ago

Text

OOOOHHHHHHHH MY GODDDDD SOMEONE COOKED HERE HAJFHSJHDJS IM OBSSESSED WITH THESE TWO HOLYYY RAHHHHHHHHH SHJFHSJFHSJ

Thrash Has Good Ideas

Thrash/Nycto smut fic, 4008 words, 18+ only obviously, kinda beta’d? holy fuck guys

Original character/Original character, PWP, Sticky Sexual Interface, Smoking Kink, BDSM, Dirty Talk, Semi-Public, On The Table, Aft Play

Time is meaningless in space, when you’re traveling long distances between star systems on long haul warships like this one was. Time is indiscernable without a star to orbit, without a hazy sky telling you it is time to gaze into an inky blackness far above- here, that inky blackness is right outside the port hole glass, surrounding everything in an endless vacuum. Still, Thrash liked to think that it might be evening right about now, he imagined a sun starting to dip to one side of the sky, an edge of shadow creeping along the horizon, late but not yet twilight.

He fiddled with his lighter in one servo, flicking it on and slapping it shut with a swing of his wrist, over, over, over and over. He was fighting off boredom with every little movement and minute action, trodding down the hall going nowhere in particular, puffing on a cygar he’d rolled earlier that same “day.”

“This stuff is fragging good.” Thrash chuckled to himself as he eyed up his handiwork- a perfectly rolled joint of something delightful he’d picked up at the last outpost the ship had stopped at.

Technically it wasn’t contraband, it wasn’t something that tampered with his processor- but it did scratch the itch of his oral fixation. The smoke rolled over his glossa with a surprisingly pleasant flavor, deep into his intake and filling him with warmth. He rotated it around in his servo, watching little flickers of cindering particulate float from the lit end- kind of pretty.

Somehow, his mindless wandering had brought him to a familiar stretch of hallway- he rolled an idea over in his head, taking another long drag of his little treat while he considered it. Nycto’s office was on this hall, and maybe, just maybe he was in there doing something monotonous. Maybe- he wouldn’t shoo him out the moment he entered? Wishful thinking, but maybe the mech wouldn’t mind the company.

For all the possibility that Nycto would tell him to go away and let him work, the sliver of a chance that he wouldn’t was enough to convince Thrash to try. He grinned to himself, humming a little as he did. Nycto’s office was windowless, sad, he figured- but then there was no sunlight anyways, so what good would a window do for a little office?

“Knock knock,” he mumbled to no one in particular as he punched in the code he’d convinced Nycto to tell him- he was still surprised the mech had actually given it to him.

Nycto jumped a little in his seat when the door panel slid open- his wings standing at attention, even once he saw who it was. Thrash snickered at the little display, waltzing in and shutting the door back behind him, something to lean against now that he was inside.

“Hey there, commander.” He greeted with a distinctly teasing tone in his voice, earning him a quirked optic ridge and half-hearted frown from Nycto.

“…Thrash.” The seeker commander replied indifferently, after a bit of hesitation- his wing twitched slightly before he tilted his helm back down to the work before him- a mess of datapads all scattered about.

Nice. He wasn’t immediately kicked out, a win in Thrash’s personal book. He smirked, eyeing up the stuffy mech while he puffed on his cygar- a little disappointed that he was near the end of it, but perfectly happy to be in some nice, private space with his latest plaything- well, alright, Nycto was more than that, he just wasn’t ready to admit it.

Nycto’s nose curled and he set his data pad down, squinting up at the offensive mech who had propped himself up against his doorframe- was this fragger seriously smoking in his office?

“Are you kidding me? Put that slag out.” He snapped, incredulous to how the mech thought that was something he could just do.

“Oh this?” Thrash held out the butt of his cygar, barely anything left on it, he thought- not a loss.

Again, a thought crossed his processor- what better to alleviate the boredom than getting Nycto nice and riled up? He made a deliberate show of bringing the cygar butt to the wall and putting it out there- watching with anticipation as Nycto stood up from his desk- storming over to him, a mere three paces in this tiny office.

“You know goddamn well that isn’t how I meant.” Nycto grabbed at Thrash’s chassis, hooking his digits into an armor plate and tugging him down to his level.

Thrash knew he was so close to pushing the mech off the edge- their face places so close together now as Nycto bared his dentae- he smirked his awful, toothy grin and ex-vented his last breath of smoke right in the seeker’s face.

Before Nycto could even react properly- right as his expression was beginning to shift from stern back to incredulous again, Thrash picked him up. It was startling how easily Nycto’s frame came up off the ground- he wasn’t a small mech, but Thrash was just bigger. He hadn’t had a moment to process the motion before he found himself bent right over his own workdesk- holy god, this mech had to be joking right now.

“Thanks for letting me in, doll. Been wanting an excuse to use that passcode you gave me.” He purred into Nycto’s audial, craning himself over his smaller frame, boxing him in with his arms, palms firmly planted on either side against the desk.

“This is not why I gave you-“ he began, but when he felt Thrash’s hips flush against his aft, he stuttered, losing his point for a moment.

“Is that a sincere complaint?” Thrash verbally prodded, holding them still together, letting Nycto decide if he was actually going to protest.

“… No.” Nycto’s reply was a hiss of vitriol between gritted dentae.

“Thought so.” Thrash felt a rumble deep in his chest, anticipation and self grandeur as he rolled his hips into his toy’s aft.

Nycto’s servos balled into fists as he pushed back against Thrash’s grinding, giving them both a little friction. The larger mech muttered something inaudible, drawing back so that he could have a good look at the seeker below him, liking the visual of his flight frame bent over like this. He rutted against Nycto’s aft once more before bringing his servo down to smack it, delighting in the harsh sound it made- and the resulting yelp of surprise, offense, and pleasure.

“Open up, sweet thing.”

Nycto felt a shiver down his spinal strut, right to his interface array, he hated that this mech could play with his nerves like this, rather, he wanted to hate it, he really wanted to. Thrash’s clawed servo was currently pressing hard into his back, right between his wings, his vertical stabilizer fins were rapidly readjusting over and over as he tried to decide whether he was going to cave in this easily. Thrash snickered at the inadvertent display- from this angle he could get a good look at all the little movements this seeker’s flight panels made, they were always moving in some way, a constant dialogue that he wished he could understand- but what he could understand was the indignant growl from deep in Nycto’s chassis, right before the mechanical hiss of his interface array opening.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He teased, using the servo that wasn’t pinning Nycto between the wings to drag down his frame, claws tracing harshly until he got to the seeker’s hot valve.

Nycto wanted to pretend he was fuming, he wanted to bite back with some harsh comment, something to reclaim his dignity, but as those cruel digits found his folds, he knew there was no point. His dignity was already lost, he was embarrassingly wet, and Thrash could feel it. Slick, hot, plush, smooth against Thrash’s digits, he loved this, the way Nycto twitched as he plunged in, curling his claws into sensitive clusters of sensory nodes, stretching the calipers as he spread two of his thick digits apart. He knew Nycto liked a good stretch, for all his up-tightness, he liked to be completely debauched, touched, teased, played with and ruined. Thrash only wished he could be privy to the dirty desires buried in the mech’s processor.

“You’re so nice and wet for me, commander…” he taunted, watching as Nycto’s shoulders tensed, knowing that he was getting himself into trouble for later with all his teasing- Nycto was probably already conniving ways to get back at him.

“You’re horrible.” Nycto seethed, still battling with himself for doing something so blatantly explicit in his own office, technically, one of his own higher ups could enter at any time, unlikely as it was.

“If I’m so horrible, maybe I should just… be on my way,” He withdrew his digits, feeling a pang of excitement as Nycto looked over his shoulder to his face, “and leave you like this.” He punctuated the statement, bringing his lubricant-soaked digits up to his glossa, making a good show of licking them clean, sucking Nycto’s wetness from the tips of his claws.

Nycto’s faceplates went unbelievably hot, optics locked onto Thrash’s glossa, the way it had dipped between his digits, taking the time to clean every trace of his lubricant. His fans kicked on, betraying everything his face wouldn’t. Thrash grinned like some kind of sharp-dentae monster, his optics, barely visible behind his red visor, gleamed with open excitement. He knew how badly Nycto wanted this, even if he tried to pretend he was above it.

“Tch-“ Nycto squinted at him, baring his dentae again, looking awfully insincere as his cheeks were deeply tinted with heat, “Come on and frag me already.”

“There we go!” Thrash grinned and slapped the mech’s aft once again, delighting that this time he got to see those optics go wide as he did.

Not wasting any time now, Thrash retracted his modesty panel, his spike quickly pressurizing to the task, aching and ready for Nycto’s warmth. Seeing it right up close to that slick, carbon black valve twisted his guts in just the right way, knowing how good his thick spike was about to stretch that pretty thing. Ne nudged the entrance, eyeing Nycto’s face as he did- he was sure the mech would bury his face against the desk once they got going, but in the meantime, he was torn: watch his spike plunge into that tight valve or watch his dear, upright seeker’s face as he did?

Mentally he flipped a coin- landing on heads. He pushed in roughly, optics locked on Nycto’s faceplate as it contorted in pleasure- again, the mech loved a good stretch. The way Nycto’s jaw went slack and his optics rolled up to the ceiling sent a hot pulse right to his spike, twitching hard inside of the mech. As expected, Nycto adjusted himself, no longer looking over his shoulder at Thrash, a little wiggle of his hips, claws grasping against the desk, braced and ready to get fragged good and hard.

Thrash eyed the mech up, deciding to plant his servos on either side of the mech once again, using the desk as a good balance, it would hold up right? Regardless, he drew back and snapped his hips forward, pressing flat against Nycto’s aft, his spike buried all the way to the base now. He groaned and geared himself up to frag nice and hard- licking his dentae as he started pushing some good deep thrusts up into Nycto’s core. The slender flyer was already a mess of little gasps and moans, thighs trembling just a little as he stood on the tips of his peds, his claws dug against the desk with a harsh metallic sound.

“Nnh… yeah.” This was exactly what he’d wanted- the perfect cure to a little boredom, his favorite, favorite pretty seeker skewered on his spike, he knew he was going to make him beg by the time he was done, he needed to.

Every thrust rocked Nycto’s whole frame, cockpit canopy slamming into the desk with every one, Thrash was not playing gentle today, not at all. His aft was already getting a little sore, between the spanks and now the clanging of Thrash’s hip plating against it, he would be surprised if he didn’t have some scuffs already. The way his calipers stretched to accommodate the mech sent shivers of cool delight running throughout his frame, like ice in his energon lines, but burning hot in his tank. Thrash’s spike had these… bulges? It had curvaceous rises and falls along the shaft that forced a stretch every time he thrusted, putting perfect pressure on all his sensory nodes. Thrash was built so that even slow and gentle interface was a sincere delight, the kind of spike that can make a mech overload in minutes, and he knew exactly how to use it.

Thrash leaned down, humping hard and rough made it a little difficult, but he managed to snag one of Nycto’s vertical stabilizers between his dentae- which immediately elicited a yelp and a clench of calipers from the seeker. He chuckled darkly, biting down enough to put some good pressure on that sensitive flight plating, reveling in the cacophony of swears and cries of pleasure that came rolling out of Nycto. He felt the mech’s calipers spasm, and a sudden rush of wetness, he knew he’d just pushed Nycto right into an overload, but it wouldn’t be the only one- Thrash was determined to keep rocking through it, delighting in the loud wet sounds their interface made now with the extra lubrication.

Nycto gasped and whined as he felt the lubricant run down his thigh and across the armor plating there, he knew there would be a small puddle to wipe up after this, he couldn’t leave something like that to be found. Thrash wasn’t slowing down, not giving him a moment to recuperate after his overload- he wasn’t sure if that was cruel or very, very nice. His calipers were still recalibrating as the heavy built mech drove into him, ramming his ceiling nodes repeatedly, it was mind numbing- it was- oh Primus frag, static was creeping into his visual field, there was no way-

Thrash watched in satisfaction as Nycto’s helm lulled forward and his wings went rigid, the mech let out a strangled noise, a long, steady moan followed as a second overload crashed over him. Outside of Thrash’s field of view, oral lubricant dripped from Nycto’s open mouth, jaw tense and optics flaring bright.

“Frag yeah- keep cumming for me,” Thrash once again, did nothing to yield, no pause in his movements, contrarily he bucked harder, slamming harshly against Nycto’s aft, every slam of his hips fully lifting the seeker’s peds off the ground like a limp toy.

“Gonna leave you feeling so good, keep cumming on my spike, slut-!” He growled right into Nycto’s audial, lavishing his glossa across the fins there while the sound of their violent interface echoed off the walls of the small room.

“Frag- frag! Thrash!!” Nycto cried out, all dignity lost as he squirted over his thighs, dousing Thrash’s spike in more wetness, rewarding him for all his roughness.

“Making a mess on me like a happy little whore? Keep moaning my name, I’ll keep fragging you nice-!” He grabbed onto Nycto’s aft, pulling him against him now with every thrust, tormenting the flyer’s ceiling node with how deep he plunged himself.

“Yes- ahhh- nnh!! Thrash-!” Nycto tried his hardest to comply, wanting more from the wild mech, in that moment he wanted to be destroyed, to be made into a pitiful plaything, he didn’t want to be respectable, he didn’t want to be an authority, he just wanted to be a toy.

“Good doll.” Thrash growled, his ego raising sky high seeing how thoroughly he’d torn Nycto down, he needed someone else to be in charge, he’d admitted that once before, it had made Thrash think, for all the uptightness, all the visible stress, Nycto really did need someone else to take control sometimes.

Whimpering and panting, this mech who was usually so buttoned up, so well put together- Nycto was unraveling on his own workdesk, datapads clattering to the floor with every particularly rough thrust. Thrash dug his claws into the mech’s aft plating, and another brilliant idea crossed his processor. He circled Nycto’s aft port with a tentative digit, noting the cry of pleasure as he did mixed amongst all the other noises, he grinned wildly and brought his servo up to spit on his digits, making sure they were plenty wet before he teased the tip of a digit into that tight little hole.

“Gaaah!!” Nycto arched his back, drool running down his chin, visor fogged to almost entirely obscure his vision.

“Yeah? Like that? Does my little shareware like his aft port played with?” Thrash made a beckoning motion with the digit he had pressed into the little port, enjoying the ensuing whine of affirmation.

“Want me to finger your aft while I fill your valve up with cum? You’d better take it all, wouldn’t want to leave a mess!” Thrash cackled with ego as he continued to buck hard into Nycto’s valve, working a second finger into the aft port.

“Mmmmh!!! Please!!” Nycto had lost count of his overloads at some point, he wasn’t sure when the last one had ended, it was hard to tell with how overstimulated his whole interface array was, everything was practically buzzing.

Thrash had been holding together quite well up until that point, something about Nycto begging for him to cum inside made his knees weak- he really didn’t want to admit how much of a soft spot he had for the aerial commander. Such a needy mech, someone who didn’t have the luxury of cutting loose like Thrash himself did- Nycto had heavy expectations on his shoulders, the weight of his soldiers, his burden to bear. If this is what Thrash could do to make him happy, he was more than willing, he felt himself salivate at the thought of fragging the mech even in the most tedious moments, when he was on missions where there was little to think about, when boredom creeped into his processor, his mind always landed here- just like this, fragging Nycto.

His thrusts were beginning to lose their rhythm, varying between deep and shallow, his fans running on high as he vented hard. Nycto’s calipers were spasming again, tears rolling down his cheeks as he felt himself lost to the bliss and overstimulation, he couldn’t take this much longer, he just wanted one more overload, just one more, and he wanted Thrash to fill him up with transfluid this time, he wanted to feel the pressure and fullness in his tank. The idea of being filled with something from Thrash, holding it inside until he couldn’t anymore, it embarrassed him how much the idea pushed him toward his next climax.

Thrash was losing his composure and fast, very fast. The searing in his transfluid tank telling him that he was going to overload was filling his processor, buzzing in his audials as he scrambled together another idea, a bad idea, a very bad idea, but his impulse control was simply not there anymore, he knew what he wanted.

“Nyc- mmmh! Tell me you love me-!” He groaned, grabbing onto the mech’s aft for dear life as he pushed hard into him, his digits losing coordination inside of him, he could barely keep this up.

In that moment, Nycto was so lost in the sensation, tipping into overload, his processor fuzzy and full of static, he wanted to tell Thrash anything, anything at all that would make him feel good, anything that would make himself feel good, anything at all.

“I fragging love you Thrash!!” He practically screamed as his voice crackled into static, overload taking him by the throat.

Thrash cried out this time too, those words knocking him clean off the edge he’d built, oral lubricant falling from his intake as he buried himself into Nycto one last time. He grit his dentae, spilling his transfluid as far as it could go into the seeker’s frame, filling him with warmth and pressure, calipers milking his thick spike for everything it had. Both of their frames were practically screaming with the buzz of overload, like arcing electricity shared between them, rattling their processors and numbing the senses. For a moment, neither of them could hear anything.

Thrash collapsed on top of Nycto, retracting his digits from the mech’s aft port and resting his helm against his stilled wings. His processor definitely needed a moment to recalibrate. Nycto rested face down into the desk, wet and cool against his cheek, venting hard while he let his frame relax. He didn’t know if he’d ever had interface that intense, in any capacity. His valve ached pleasurably, still plugged tight with Thrash’s slowly depressurizing spike, the mech was seriously well endowed. He was sure that it was going to be a serious mess whenever the big mech pulled out- he’d have to slip his panel shut fast when he did. All these idle thoughts as they laid there, venting, listening to the soft whir of each other’s fans. All was warm and pleasant and restful, right down to the dull ache in Nycto’s joints from just how rough it had all been.

“Mmnnnh….” Thrash stirred above him, propping himself up on his palms, relieving some of the pressure on Nycto’s frame, thank Primus.

“Hey- don’t pull out yet.” Nycto nudged, looking over his shoulder at the hefty mech.

“Eh? You can’t seriously want to go again?” Thrash gawked at him incredulously, running the math in his head of how long it should take him to re-pressurize after an overload like that.

“Ah- no, I mean,” Nycto nodded his helm toward their connected interface equipment, “that’s going to spill everywhere if you pull out.”

“Well I have to pull out eventually.” Thrash deadpanned, it was a nice thought, to just frag forever, but that wasn’t doable.

“Do it slowly I mean, I can close up my panel quickly once you’re out.” Thrash’s optics went wide behind his visor, Nycto meant to just hold his transfluid in?

“Ah, yeah okay.” He retracted slowly, using his servo to guide his spike out, covering Nycto’s plump valve once he’d pulled out all the way, in an attempt to keep everything from spilling.

“Okay, okay, that’s good.” Nycto clicked his panel shut quickly, shutting the mess of fluid behind to deal with later.

Thrash was still a little bewildered and aroused at the idea that Nycto was just going to be full of his fluids for a while, but he shook the thought off as the seeker tried to turn himself over, audibly straining at the effort to right himself- he hadn’t been that rough with him right? Nycto leaned up against the desk, facing Thrash now, giving the mech a good eye full of how worn he was from the whole ordeal. Evidence of their interface session glistened across his thighs, remnants of oral lubricant on his cheek and tear stains beneath his smudged and fogged visor- he looked fragging decadent. The best part of the visual though, was the absence of that stern and stressed facial expression.

“You look really good.” Thrash grinned, still feeling a little fuzzy from everything, but sincere no less.

“Yeah thanks. I hope you know you’re helping me clean.” Nycto smirked at him, that was rare, almost made up for the demand to tidy all this mess.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m sure I’ve got a cleaning cloth in my subspace somewhere.”

It wasn’t until they parted ways that either of them recalled the plea Thrash had made- as well as the response Nycto had given. It really was too early to say ‘I love you’ right? It probably was. Neither of them would mention it again.

#valveplug #fanfic #tf thrashblade #tf nycto #tf oc #transformers oc #transformers #maccadam #eating this order #someone cooked here

7 notes · View notes