mythicallystupid

[mythicallystupid]

meow meow meow theyre my favorites ever i miss them with all my heart

[mythicallystupid]

Anyway, guess who just finished the Decepticons x Reader in heat fic? It's an absolute spikefest. It's a sequel to "Be careful what you wish for", but you don't necessarily need to read it to understand. Toodeloo bitches

[mythicallystupid]

I love love looove the way you write!! I'm 22- and i wanted to ask about your Headcanons for a bi bumblebee.

He's always been proud of looking good, so maaaybe you could give him an opportunity to show off? A car show, or maybe a car wash could be fun.

hot motor oil ☆∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

hahaaa fffkxzkdk. bet! you speaking my language, anon.

bumblebee x gn! human headcanons.

warnings: suggestive/nsfw. exhibitionism, praise, voyeurism.

bumblebee when on earth at his prime is cocky, playful and a thrill-seeker.

while the inability to vocalize is a sore subject, he's never been insecure about his appearance. he's considered very attractive wherever he goes, cybertron and otherwise.

much to optimus's disapproval, he takes the time to find the newest speedsters to scan regularly throughout the decades.

while he's particular with what automobiles he claims, there's a clear taste for flashy, fast horsepower.

he adores weaving between traffic, secret drag races, because the racers and humans react. it's either anger, frustration, awe or jealousy. makes his chassis get all warm knowing that just being in his alt-modes gains attention without applying much effort.

the thing is though - he does. constant buffing. avoids mud like the plague and never gets insects stuck in his grills. his bumper never gets scuffed and he might have found a car wash or two with easy on the optic workers who gladly accept fat tips and rub between his panels and exterior with feather light touches.

they don't look too much through his tinted windshield or question the pink fluids collecting near the drain when he zips off.

when he meets you, he's almost shaking when he learns of your hobbies.

a mechanic? and you spend hours in your garage just.. fixing up cars?

his spark stutters one day relaxing in your detached shed, as you mumble under your breath with your ungloved fingers coated in oil with the popped hood of an '99 ferrari, tongue licking sweat off your top lip so slow he has to lock his tires not to accidently skid the concrete.

"mmm, there ya go. shiny and just as gorgeous. bet i could go on a real fast ride with you now, huh?"

"kkkrrtt! my chick do stuff that your chick wish she could — chhhtk — krrrz!"

"oh my god, bee, please — hey! do not leak in my garage baby."

he has never made his attraction for you quiet.

it's difficult to course through radio signals in regular conversation but you always look so charmed when he chirps out song lyrics you know, so chatting you up during repair sessions is frequent.

once his leash has been loosened some and you're teetering ripping back the veil of platonic and more, you let him know the other aspect of your interests.

he stares at the shiny poster in your hands, watching you animatedly explain just what a "muscle car show" was. his brow ridge raises. okaay, you got his attention.

while you didn't expect to win (which he rolled his optics to because really, this is him you're talking about), it'd be fun. it would only last a few hours. all he has to do is sit still and look pretty.

look still and look. pretty. his flaps flutter, proud. damn straight he's pretty.

when you roll him to the flat plain one saturday afternoon, his wheels look brand-new and his hood has signature, thick black accents.

even has that "new smell" to him, rubber flawless and paint with that glittering coat.

fancy little bastard managed to get some butterfly doors. you coo between his engine revving he's being such a little show-off.

what he didn't expect was the constant attention to be so distracting. it's warm and there's an internal message to start blasting his cooling fans because his temperature is starting to up a tick.

there's so, so many cars. yet he's fully in the center, which means at times he feels like he's being surrounded.

bumblebee takes a gander while he plays some old rock softly to cover the fizzle of his motor, eyeing the classics and more modern bodystyle frames.

almost beeps when you bend down to show a man his chrome mufflers. your hands run along his rims and he's starting to feel.. funny.

"damn. how'd you get such a sexy car?"

"ahh... magician never shares their tricks. wanna feel the inside?"

cue the radio shorting out, because suddenly his doors are unfolding and men and women alike start to crowd him, cooing and taking pictures.

the sensory overload from curious palms smoothing over his dash? you lean into him to adjust his mirror and cheekily grab the clutch. his engine roars.

"you know. i never thought i'd say i fuck a sports car but jesus, you've outdone yourself... oh, cmon, how much you selling for?"

"my bumblebee? girl, i ain't ever putting him up for sale. he's my sweet stallion."

his processor is humming. angles his frontal mirrors as you keep teasing him, even going as far to spank his bumper slightly before bragging about the genuine leather interiors and letting his admirers lounge inside, encouraging them to ask questions.

exhaust slips from pipes as he tries not to let the electricity cloak his frame suffocate when you press a silky smooch on his window. the kiss-mark looks like it's been left behind on foggy, shower glass.

is it a shocker you win? nope. easiest $5K of your life.

there's a final round where you get to drive him around a lap so motor-enthusiasts can gander a final time. he's almost thankful the announcements echo because you're leaned over the wheel, chest pressed up near the horn.

"you like that? you did so fucking good."

"tcccthtt -- whoa, baby you're killin' me! "

"aww, don't get shy. there's a warehouse four miles west from here. take us there. i wanna thank you."

his speedometer breaks when he drifts right out and down the highway, wind zipping back your hair as your laugh cackles out ajar windows.

pure nsfw.

the golden-black charger rumbles down the highway. it's minimal interference, though the turn signal never flashes and it's difficult to see any drivers or passengers inside.

pebbles pluck up and ding the exterior, which is such a shame, because it's such a pretty car!

however, that isn't on anyone's mind at the moment.

bumblebee tries not to hydroplane, because it'd be stupid dangerous and it's not even raining. but you're a tsunami, a distraction of disastrous proportions. your hand is shoved down your shorts and you trail down your tummy before the straps of your underwear twist.

it's a wildly salacious position. your right leg is hiked up on his - your - dash. your left hand rubs vigorously while the right squeezes his clutch and rubs the silver button positioned at its knob.

his engine snarls. his radio glitches and you can hear the rhythmic churn of metal buzzing and gurgles that suggests he's trying to speak.

"yeah? yeah? such a pretty speedster, bee. f-fuck. you're so hot. you're the best."

"breeep!"

"awww, haha -- nnf, did you just honk?!"

the opening to a dilapidated hanger lingers on the horizon. he bulldozed through gravel and rolls up his windows fully to avoid any flying in your face. your hair is messy and both of your feelings are floundering, the beat of your heart loud in your ears.

he can't erase any of this. those wet cries have his intake salivating with lubricant.

there's a wet spot on the driver's seat and he's almost mad that he can't lick it off.

transforming mid-kneel, you're gently shoved out and his servos snatch at you like a toddler with a toy. his bright, blue gaze edged needy when he's pawing off your clothes and manhandling you to get up on his lap.

his pedes scratch against the concrete for purchase. he's whipped. he's so fragging on edge. all the compliments, all the comments, all the touching - he's gonna overload.

let's just say you two aren't getting back to base for the night. especially not with that wry grin on your lips, before you rub down his body like melted rubber.

robolvrr 2024.

[mythicallystupid]

Hungry scarecrow

Farm/Saejun belongs to GuinongTale_AU

Horror belongs to sour-apple-studios

[mythicallystupid]

👻Happy Halloween 🎃

[mythicallystupid]

Watercolor blob of tfp soundwave

[mythicallystupid]

he's waiting for you to make a decision, probably

[mythicallystupid]

An old draft/wip with Gods n Goddesses Au Lex and Horror! This did become the foundation of another piece that got put off, but I may redraw it after so long! I'm probably going to keep this design too...

[mythicallystupid]

🦋🦋🦋

[mythicallystupid]

What did you do?

[mythicallystupid]

joe biden, you stupid fuck. listen to me. Crimes are legal for sitting presidents as long as they’re official actions. Listen: Joe. You have one chance

[mythicallystupid]

colored

[mythicallystupid]

older brother responsibility

[mythicallystupid]

love marks

UF!Sans belongs to underfell

[mythicallystupid]

YANTOBER 2024, DAY 4 — HOMEMADE MEAL

Horror Sans x Chef!GN!Reader

notes: unsettling/kinda disgusting descriptions, getting yelled at. also thank you for the gif!! its so nice!

🍱 — SLICES OF GRATITUDE

Horror found a new place to go to.

Upon reaching the surface, Grillby had trouble reopening his restaurant due to... legal issues. Well, Horror couldn’t blame the humans; after all, he didn't trust them either when they came down to the Underground.

Either way, he needed to find a new place to swing by sometime. That included the other monsters who used to visit Grillby's daily. What's left of them, anyway.

"Order up!"

A plate filled with nothing but appetizing food and a tempting aroma was placed before him.

His massive, red eyelight trembled at the sight of so much food. It almost made him want to vomit from sheer hatred and starvation.

"I heard about what happened," you started, barely able to suppress your flinch when he looked up at you. "Uh, this is on the house. Every monster who comes here gets a... free first-time buffet."

He stared at you, silent. You felt sweat dripping down your skin.

Let it be known that when the monsters first came here, they truly frightened many people with their appearance. You just tried not to let it get to your head. As the saying goes, don't judge a book by its cover.

"That looks deathly delicious," a different monster said as they approached Horror's side. They salivated, drool spilling past their chin. "Are ya gonna eat that, Sans?"

He let a toothy smile curve his face, making eye contact with you. "...take it. free buffet, ya say? well, hope ya got enough for all of us."

"Good thing my boss prepared me then, being the solo chef and all," you smiled, smoothly placing more plates across the counter. "Dig in!"

...The monsters devoured every nook and cranny of your food supplies.

Truth be told, you hadn’t expected any customers today. It had always been like that, and now you had basically given away food for free.

You were going to get fired, and you’d end up in debt. Great.

Everyone has left—except Horror.

Wiping down the table, you glanced at him. "I hope it's okay to ask, but why didn't you eat?"

He chuckled, a deep rumble from his chest. "nah. not okay."

"Oh-"

"and i don't think what you did is good business practice," he said, resting his cheek on his palm.

You pursed your lips, looking down. "It's the least I can do."

Horror hummed, his eyelight shrinking the longer he stared at you.

The day after that, he came by again with his companions. They settled in surprisingly fast.

It went the same, except the buffet part. They had to pay. Monsters were wealthy, anyway, with actual gold and high currency exchange rates.

Once again, you didn't see Horror eat or drink a single thing.

...Night time had arrived. Your manager came back from his trip.

"You did what to our resources?"

There it was. The scolding you had been waiting for, the one thing that had sent you on edge for the last two days.

“Bullshit! You know we have to pay for everything!” your manager yelled, looking as though he was about to burst a blood vessel. His face had never been this red before. "Especially to those vile monsters! What on earth were you thinking, huh?!"

You knew this was coming, and you certainly deserved this conversation.

It still didn't stop the tears from welling your eyes.

"You're fired! I'll let you go easy, but you still have to pay for everything, you hear me?" he snarled, walking past you.

...Horror shortcut the hell out of there.

. . .

You kicked a rock. Even the sun couldn't make anything look brighter.

Why did you even take that job? Now, instead of earning money, you owe more. Curse you and your pathetic heart.

Your ex-manager wasn't even taking your calls anymore. Damn it all.

"hey."

A yelp left your lips as you jumped, your eyes widening at him. "Wha— Sans?"

He offered you something. A lunchbox. It had silly patterns of bones as a design.

"for ya. don't try to give it back. consider it my thanks."

You held it in your hands, surveying its weight and feel.

"what are you so suspicious of? that's homemade, made by yours truly. enjoy."

When you looked back up, he was gone.

×

Horror belongs to sour-apple-studios.

[mythicallystupid]

Someone asked for Overlord Mouth Focus fun times so I happily delivered the juices!

good eatin, Overlord!

[mythicallystupid]

This is so cute

『letter』

been working on this story for two months! hope you like it!💛💚