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fushiguho · 19 days ago

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Curiosity Kills.ᐟ ☆ Suguru Getou

Synopsis Suguru Getou isn’t sure what it is about you that makes him lose all sense of himself, that makes all of the blood in his body rush southward. What are you? A fallen angel? A dream? A mere figment of his imagination? God, does he want to know, he needs to know because there is no way that you’re human. So, that begs the question... what are you? Word Count 3k Content Warnings Suguru Getou is sooooo subby it's insane, Suguru Getou is pussywhipped, cunnilingus, roommates to lovers, femme reader, reader is some sort of supernatural being (up to your interpretation) A/N i actually had no idea where i was going with this. i started with the idea of making the reader a succubus, but it kinda got lost in translation. maybe it can be left up to the reader’s interpretation. but i like it i think? do you? let me know :p

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･

Poor Suguru. He caught you red handed, but god, what a sight for sore eyes you are — your bare, perspiring body trembling as you hump against his pillow, sweet cries of his name spilling from your raptured tongue as you lay in a tousled mess of plaid, unkempt sheets. Suguru wonders, what possesses someone to do such a thing? To creep into their housemate’s sacred space, climb into their bed, and fuck themselves against their one and only pillow? Why is it making his cock jerk against the fabric of his briefs?

Maybe it’s the simple fact that you just don’t care. The fact that you’re so flagrantly conquered by your overbearing lust that you lack half the decency for respect, for shame. Maybe that’s the very reason he’s drawn to you in the way naive moths are to rampant flames; in the way curious bumblebees are to bright, beautiful flowers; in the way sweet, respectful men are to women who embody such raw and salacious feminine vivacity.

There’s such a dark, seductive energy that manifests in the way you walk, talk, breathe. Suguru can see it — the colorful ripple and billow of the overwhelming ambience that emanates from your entire being, it surrounds you. It hums and crackles in haphazard spurts of electricity and he feels it, he smells it. He needs to be inside it — inside of you. You overwhelm him, fogging his brain to the brink of utter confusion. He’s grossly enthralled by your unfathomable beauty, yet he’s terrified of what you'll turn him into.

For months, his fruitless attempts to suppress his growing infatuation has only made stronger, louder — it’s a low, ravenous growl that’s hungry, it craves satiation, it craves you. Now, he feels your presence even in your absence. Remnants of your sickly, sweet perfume clinging to the couch, the walls, your used towels in the shared bathroom. Everywhere, you linger. What is it about residing in such close quarters that morphs his cordiality into carnality? Is it something more? Something beyond human comprehension?

You’re even appearing in his dreams now and he’s sure that he’s completely lost it. In the sick, repressed depths of his subconscious, there is a facet of his latent mind that works overtime, conjuring the vilest, most debauched scenarios that feature you — obscene amounts of dried, caked over arousal kissing his abdomen each morning a testament of his late night ministries, the honeyed redolence of you lingering.

Whenever Suguru is around you, he can’t breathe, he forgets how. He chokes on a breath, the thick, protruding vein that adorns the underside of his cock throbbing painfully as you shamelessly rut against his pillow, breathless whines and gasps of pleasure dragging from your gaped mouth, oblivious to his bashful eyes. Incredulously, he observes you, wordlessly peering through his cracked bedroom door, the subconscious clamp of his thighs dulling the thrum of arousal that pools in the fat of his balls.

A large hand is cupping the unmistakable bulge that weeps milky tears of desperation, silently begging to be taken care of because it hurts. Your poor, sweet roommate is so hard to the point that it physically pains him, and unbeknownst to you, you’re the culprit. A strained whimper is prying his jaw open, thick, sable brows knitting so prettily in tandem. His fruitless attempts to dampen the cries that yearn to be heard are done in vain.

Suguru can’t help the guttural moan that belts from the depths of his chest when your darkened gaze eventually catches his. You’re whorishly sprawled apart now, head suspended from the side of his bed as you press a pretty, pink vibrator against your swollen clit. His timid gaze falls from your relentless prowl to the girthy, wet wand that hums and glides between your drooling lips.

Unabashed, you smile. “I see you, handsome,” the discernible tent that lurks beneath the restricting fabric of his bottoms makes your core sink in arousal, “him too.” You purr and he breathlessly follows the descent of your gaze, the both of you peering down at the unquestionable bulge at once.

Suguru chokes on a breath, averting his gaze. “Oh,” a deep, crimson hue is creeping up his neck, spilling across his cheeks, the peak of nose, and the tips of his ears, “you�� you’re… you’re…” his mind falls barren.

Giggling, you beckon him. “C’mereee,” you jerk your head, smiling, “I missed you, Sug,” his jaw gapes as your legs fall open just a bit wider, almost serving as an invitation. “Please? I need your help...” your hips buck sluttily as you frown, the hum of your vibrator ebbing as it disappears into your sopping cunt over and over and over again.

A timbre, helpless groan rumbles from the pit of his sternum when your back arches off of his sheets, a desperate slew of whines tumbling from your slacked jaw. Bewildered, he shakes his head, utter confusion etched within his gradually widening eyes. No, maybe this is just another one of his deep, repressed sexual fantasies — a cruel desire within a dream that he’s unknowingly played a hand in conjuring, because no, this can’t be fucking real.

The slick, translucent arousal that drools from your cunt, pooling into a sinful puddle beneath you is not real, nor is the sweet, repetitive prayer of his name that spills past your lips like a sacred mantra. Your hand is enticingly reaching out, waving him over and he subconsciously obliges, slowly creeping further into his bedroom. As he inches closer, the muted glow that pours from the full moon reveals the subtle glint of lust that pools within your darkening irises. You are going to eat him alive and he’s ready for it. He needs it, undoubtedly.

Suguru audibly expels a breath he wasn’t aware he held, cock drooling against his tightening briefs as he nears the purely erotic mess that adorns his ravaged sheets, you. The palpable thump! of his heart is deafening. His knees want so badly to buckle beneath him, sending him flying to the carpeted floor and at your mercy. He huffs another loud, incredulous breath, blown out pupils falling to the warm, gleaming arousal that seeps from your pretty pussy, gossamers of your essence stretching and snapping between your slick, tautly stretched lips.

“Fuck,” it’s quiet, teetering a breathless moan, “can… can I taste it, please?” He’s sinking to his knees, peering up at you so obediently from between your plush, outstretched thighs. “You’re so fucking pretty, pleasepleaseplease let me taste you…” every hot, raptured breath he pants fans your swollen lips, he’s drooling, for it — or rather on it, “please?”

The sweet, tantalizing giggle that parts your lips is like kindle to a rampant flame, his cock aches. “You don’t ever have to ask me, Sug,” an ethereal smile is gracing your face, “it’s yours to taste whenever you want it, hm? After work, as I’m cooking… while I’m sleeping.” The insinuation makes his heart lurch.

Another audible breath parts his lips. “Yes… yes, p-please I want that,” Suguru is nodding dumbly before you can finish, “I can do that for you, please let me do that for you, fuck… I’ve always wanted that. I… I can be a good boy for you, your good boy.”

He’s indubitably blinded by his ineffable lust — babbling reckless pleads amongst his erratic breaths of utter incredulity. All he can do is feel; his warm, ever growing touch haphazard and clumsy and needy and so gentle in all the right ways. His soft hands are politely abrupt and unsure, yet there’s an inborn, animalistic urgency that completely consumes him, heedlessly drawing him into you. There’s a fleeting, unintentional forcefulness that guides him and it’s setting your skin ablaze.

Two, large hands are gripping the supple underside of your thighs, unintentionally prying you wider; his long, burly thumbs are spreading your pretty, gleaming lips, removing the toy that hums inside of you. It’s sudden — the longgg, searing drag of his curious tongue from your drooling hole to the head of your quivering clit. It’s pleasantly abrupt, pulling the nastiest whine from your gaped mouth. A dazed hum of satisfaction thrums against your cunt, his wet, open mouth wrapping so eagerly around the mound of arousal that drools endlessly.

God, he’s already drunk off of you, the taste of you like sweet, forbidden fruit from the sacred garden of Eden. He’ll hardly remember the way he’s whorishly pulling his cock out, whining so prettily against your puffy clit as he desperately ruts against the side of his mattress. The poor, aching head weeping against his cotton sheets, crying tears of desperation in syrupy, white ribbons — he’s cumming, hard. Long, droning whimpers drag from his open mouth and into the mess of slick that laminates your cunt, his pretty lips quivering against yours.

“Oh?” Utter arousal pools in your widening eyes, a gasp following. “Are you cumming?” Several of your fingers are carding through his mussed hair, a deep, pleasureful groan kissing your cunt as you tug him closer. “Are you making suuuch a mess for me, huh?” The gyration of your hips has him slobbering into your pussy, unbroken hums of rapture pouring against you. “Show me how much you came for me… show me what a mess you made.”

His eyes are screwing shut. “Oh, god,” he’s gasping, reaching a large, obedient hand down to gather the prolific arousal that soils his sheets, “it’s… it’s so much.” The sweet quaver of his voice makes your heart swell. Pure, unadulterated submission seeping from his wet, whiny tongue. He’s adorable.

Suguru is dutifully delivering his dripping fingers to you, a dark set of meek, forbearing eyes peering from behind the long digits, patiently awaiting your next command. An obscene amount of cum dribbles down his knuckles and palm, painting the expanse of his hand in a sheer, white mess. It drips against your perspiring skin, trickling down your plush thighs and tummy. His gaze meets yours timidly — waiting, pleading.

“Touch me with it…” you whisper, sitting up to rest on your elbows so you can eye the sweet, hungry man that peers up at you, “use your fingers and fuck your cum inside of me.” A slow, bewitching smile is marring your face and it’s sick. He nods stupidly, bewildered, heart sinking to the pit of his stomach. “Yeah? Can you do that for me, baby? You gonna show me how your cum feels inside of my pussy?” God.

Suguru expels another loud, shuddered breath, cock twitching. “Yes... yesyesyes, fuck. I can do that for you… I’ll do anything for you." He’s sitting up higher on his knees and leaning closer, the audible pant of his breath fanning your skin, "you're s-so pretty, I'm so lucky to do this to you... to see you like this." He’s creeping even closer.

The entirety of his wet palm is running up the expanse of your cunt, smearing his viscous arousal across your clit, between your swollen lips, then deeeep inside of you. A long, drawn out whimper is pouring from your gaped mouth as his cum-slick digits are sinking inside of your slobbering hole, an obscene, gut wrenching squelch! crying from between your thighs. God, the sound alone could make him cum again, and again, and again.

Wide eyes are flitting up to catch yours. "Like... like this?" He breathes, thick, sable brows furrowing incredulously as you buck against his pawing hand. "Is this good? Does my cum feel... good?" Over and over again, his fingers disappear into your pretty pussy, bottoming out at his burly knuckles each and every time, pulling the sluttiest cries from your parted lips. "Am... am I being a good boy for you?"

Nodding, you gasp. “Yes,” your jaw falls slack, hips canting in the air, “such a perfect boy… listening so good for me, mhmmm.”

“Can I taste it again? I… I wanna taste us, please?” His lips are subconsciously parting, drool almost spilling from the corner of his mouth. “Please, I’ll make you cum over and over again if you want that, just tell me what to do… tell me how to please you.” He almost wants to cry, sweet, pleading eyes so so close to watering with fat tears of desperation.

You can hardly nod nor fix your lips to speak because he’s practically diving into you, wet lips instinctively latching to your ravaged clit, tasting himself. Satisfied, he hums to himself, savoring the marrying flavors of arousal on the tip of his tongue, his lithe fingers steadily pummeling inside of you. As if it’s his sole purpose in life, Suguru is eager to please — so willing and enthusiastic and completely devoted to you.

He wouldn’t mind if this became a reality for him, or rather the both of you — a common occurrence that becomes so regular that it’s just ordinary, normal. He wouldn’t mind if you crept into his bed during the dead of night to sit on his face or if you only sought him from here on out for a quick fuck. He doesn’t care. He needs you to want him, to want to be pleased by him.

He pants against your drooling cunt, begging. “Please cum for me,” his vacant hand paws at the thick of your hip, desperately pulling you closer, warm tongue gliding between your glossy lips, “pleasepleaseplease cum for me… on my tongue. Please, I want it — I need it.” He whines between the frantic drag of his tongue.

Amused, you smile, his cock throbbing in turn. “Stop asking, Sug,” you’re carding a hand through his hair, sweeping away the several, inky strands that occlude his vision, baring his drunken mien, “I’ve already given you permission to do as you please, baby. Don’t ask me again.”

Suguru nods eagerly, choking down the groan that threatens to part his lips. The sweet, subtle sternness that drips from your tongue is killing him. He can’t help himself, he’s so incredibly conquered by his insatiable desire to please. All he sees is you and the pretty, pink vibrator that lays alongside you, beckoning him. He’s hastily snatching the toy from the tousled sheets and toggling the power button on with a click!

He exchanges one, last look of pleading, wordlessly seeking your assurance a final time as he nears your weeping cunt with the loud, humming vibrator. You nod down to him, a big, toothy grin playing your lips. Yes, this is exactly what you wanted — for him to lose himself in the taste of you, to be so utterly prevailed by his carnal and overbearing lust that he lacks half the decency to ask for permission anymore. This is exactly what you need.

His mouth gapes, a loud gasp ensuing. “Hah — oh my… god,” he groans and he could fucking cry as he replaces his fingers with your vibrator, slowly easing the girthy, pink wand inside of your welcoming hole, “oh my fucking god, you’re s-so wet.” Suguru is so plainly subdued by his aching need to satisfy that it exudes in the way he speaks, in the way can’t help but to moan out his words, simple vowels and consonants laden with his discernible lust.

“Yeaaah, that’s a good fucking boy, spit on it,” you gasp as he’s leaning forward to loll out his tongue, rivulets of drool spilling from the wet muscle and onto your perfectly swollen clit, “yes — fuuuck, god.”

A longgg, drawn out whine is dragging from your hoarse throat, the repetitive batter of the buzzing toy beating up your tightening walls. He’s lapping you up, grunting and moaning and drooling onto your cunt as if he’s on the brink of death and you’re an oasis amidst a barren desert — as if he’d simply die if not for your saccharine essence.

Suguru’s cock aches, growing impossibly hard yet again, the red, swollen head leaking a sinful stream of arousal onto his carpeted floor. A slew of guttural moans disappear into your cunt, his vacant hand wrapping so desperately around the length of himself, fist tightening to dull the mind numbing throb of his poor, weeping erection.

“Yes,” your hips are bucking so sluttily, meeting the mindless jerks of his tongue halfway, fucking yourself on it, “yesyesyes, fuck… so good, such a good, pretty mouth fuck.”

His fist tightens impossibly tighter, a helpless, high-pitched whimper thrumming against your clit. He can hardly help the hand that’s beginning to tug at the length of his cock, the slick remnants of his previous orgasm the perfect lube. The not-so-subtle buck his hips into the palm of his hand forces pant after breathless pant from his occupied mouth, his audible gasps for air separating the purposeful drags of his tongue.

Suguru is drunk, so plainly intoxicated and it’s purely from you — your slutty moans, the near feral buck of your hips, your greedy hands and how they possessively steer his head exactly where you need it, even the palpable throb of your aching clit has him squeezing his eyes closed in his overwhelming arousal, but he loves every fucking bit of it.

Not a single, seraphic inch of your cunt is left untouched. His tongue is relentless, completely consuming you and everything you have to offer; it’s sliding up the length of your lips, his erratic breaths hot and loud against the juncture where your thigh and pussy meet; it’s licking up the expanse of your plush, inner thigh, a glistening trail of saliva left in his wake; his tongue is even lapping against the vibrator that plunges in and out of your greedy hole, drinking the married, syrupy mess of arousal that leaks out of you. It’s exactly what has you unwarrantedly gushing down the length of your drenched toy, his name on the tip of your beautifully raptured tongue.

And god, Suguru has never seen anything like it — the deep, depraved arch of your back, plush tits pressing against the thick, tangible air; the discernible hitch of your breath that interrupts your sweet cries of his name, even the subtle glint of amaranth that gleams within your beckoning irises instills an innate sense of fear in him, yet it’s the most erotic thing he has ever experienced and he wants more, he needs to find out what the fuck you are.

“God, please fuck me,” he pants, his pretty, fucked out face gleaming, “m-make me your good boy forever.”

He has no idea what he’s asking for. Poor Suguru.

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vhaos-chaotic-writing · 1 month ago

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D-16 Megatron (TFO) x Cybertronian!Reader Pt. 2

Someone asked if there was going to be a part 2 of this and the answer is hell yeah. ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ Gender Neutral Cybertronian Reader!

Also, importante message in general - please do not spam my askbox. I've already recieved, in a row 5 asks/requests from a same user. It is kind of annoying, feels like you are pressuring me to do more than I already do and that doesn't sit me well. So, user who is doing this, do not keep doing it or I'll block you. Thanks.

WARNING: Spoilers from the movie (Transformers One 2024). Angst and more angst. Forbidden love scenario.

Days have been... good. To say at least.

Being guided by Optimus Prime, Elita One and Bumblebee's to fight against the Quintessons. Meanwhile, Iacon and Cybertrone was slowly picking up its true, beautiful colors and life seemed brighter for everyone after finally getting their T-cogs and feel complete.

... then, why do you feel.. empty?

It was stupid - you have now your T-cog, of course! And yet...

You try to not think about it too much - you decide to keep yourself focused on your tasks, helping others, and so on. But whenever the night arrives and you are alone in your berth...

"Primus, please... if you are out there - keep D-16 safe and sound. Please." You pray, holding your servos against your chestplate.

With the pass of the days you started to accept the fact that D-16 was no longer there, but it was Megatron who had now his face.

Things were getting better, but also tense at the same time, as from time to time, if they haven't done it on that day Megatron was vanished from Iacon, bots who started to think like him left Iacon by choice to look after the leader they wanted.

You remained on the Autobot's side - your spark longed for the mech you used to love, but you knew he was no longer the sweet, kind D-16 you used to know.

But - you wanted to see him. You needed to see him. Even if it was dangerous or that you might not live another day to tell - you needed to see him.

And little did you know how much Megatron silently suffered to himself as he couldn't forget you. And he, too, wished to see you again. His spark would cry too, wishing to see once again the same cybertronian that he fell in love years ago.

Alas - if something happens then it meant it was what Primus wanted to happen...

You were tasked to go out with a group of autobots to swap places with another group who stayed on the surface in other to keep track on any kind of Quintesson activity... or Decepticon, too.

"Arcee, in position" - "Prowl in position, too!" - "Me too - I mean, Blurr too!"

"(Y/N) in position as well." You add, followed by another one of your teammates through the audio connection. 1 solar cycle to be out there and keep an optic on everything until the next team arrives to swap places with yours. Thankfuly, for the past days, any type of Quintesson activity was nearly none - Primus bless Optimus, Elita and Bumblebee - but all of you wanted to be sure, just in case.

You were relatively far away from your team, moving between tall mountain alike structures, your right servo transformed in your (weapon of choice).

The sound of a heavey step made you quickly turn around, aiming your weapon with a serious expression - to quickly change into one of surprise.

Megatron stares at you and slowly start walking towards you. And you remain frozen in place, slowly lowering your weapon - until the sound of the audial connection being activated. Megatron freezes in place.

"Arcee to (Y/N) - I lost for a moment your location, everything okay?"

Megatron keeps his optics locked with yours, thinking you were going to give out his presence... You press the small audial device on your helm to answer. "(Y/N) to Arcee - affirmative. The structures are doing that glitch - but all fine."

After turning off the audial connection, Megatron runs to you as you open wide your arms, your weapon transforming back into your arm. And the big mech hugs you close, as you hug him back. In silence, you hold each other, his faceplate hidding against your helm as you do as well against his chestplate.

"... I missed you." You whisper, scolding at yourself for saying that - feeling weak. But how could you not say those words when you have been longing for him?

"I've missed you, too." Megatron confesses, moving to gently press his forehelm against yours, closing his red optics as you close your own. "I thought I was never going to see you again."

"... Why did you do it?" You ask, spark hurting.

Megatron looks at you with softened optics, knowing what were you talking about - killing Sentinel Prime in a brutal way when he was already defeated, wanting to destroy Iacon, making a promise to become the sole true leader that was going to guide everyone and whoever stood on his way was going to be offlined. "I did it for our people, for us - Optimus was not going to make Sentinel suffer the consequences he deserved after all the torture he made us go through, (Y/N)..."

You should be angry - Primus, you should be yelling at him and fighting for his violent ways, for not understanding what he was doing was the same thing Sentinel was doing. Alas, all you do is let your optics fill with energon and cry softly as Megatron holds you close.

"I wanted to know you more! I - I wanted to be your friend! Fall in love with you - become your Conjux!" You confess, crying that life you wished for the moment you two met. "I wanted to become yours and you become mine!"

The Decepticon leader tries to not to cry, forcing himself to remain strong. Megatron blamed himself because... how could he give you those things you were wishing between the two of you now that he was the enemy? And he knew he couldn't ask you to follow him, to join the Decepticons - even when he wanted to take you with him, he wasn't going to take away your freedom, not after having that being taken away by the false Prime since everyone's birth.

"I love you." Megatron suddenly confesses, holding your helm with his servos, your optics once again finding each others. "The moment I saw you in that busy day - I knew you were the one who I wanted to bond with, become his Conjux and have our sparks meet the other. I love you, (Y/N) - and... I'm so sorry for having ruin our future."

Your spark fluttered and felt warm, whole. Complete.

Holding his helm back, you kissed him. And he kissed you back.

And that same night you two became the Conjux Endura of the other. And while it hurt you to leave him, and for him to leave you to go back to your respective places - your spark still felt complete.

Whenever you are alone, you place a servo on your chestplate, where your spark rests, and feel. I love you.

And, in silence, you feel his I love you, back.

In silence, you await for the day you get to be back in Megatron's arms. And hope, and pray to Primus, for the war to end and be by his side, one way or another.

I'm not sobbing you are sobbing. /(ㄒoㄒ)/~~ Vhaos out!

#transformers x reader #megatron x reader #transformers one x reader

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originalwinnerfanfish · 3 months ago

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Well, it was a big piece of work, hah

I took a break from RW and decided to draw something nostalgic

Actually I've been stuck with this idea for two years now and I'm glad I finally found the strength to do something about it. Thanks for inspiration from one good man)

Long story short

In this AU autobots and deceptions are two unions of different tribes: mudwings, seawings and sandwings for the firsts and icewings, nightwings, rainwings and Pantala tribes for seconds. Skywings doesn’t exist anymore (because we need someone who takes place of predacons).

People are just people or scavenger if you prefer. And instead of whole cosmos it’s just two mainlands.

- Optimus Prime - I kinda like tfp Optimus. So formidable, powerful and mysterious but really gentle at the same time. And mud/sea combo works here in the best way. As the representation of two main tribes union and strong father/brother figure for team members.

I also think he might be an animus (but don’t use his magic often, especially for killing someone)

- Ultra Magnus - Pure Icewing already will be great for him, but I gave him part of seawing so he could be more like an Optimus. But instead of being softer and warmer, Magnus is more cold and pragmatic version of him. A character who sees other dragons not as close allies and friends but as ordinary soldiers.

- Ratchet - Yeah, the seawing would fit him better, but i just don’t know how to make the colors work here sooo… he’s a weak-fire mudwing. Like a skywing, but mudwing. Why not. Make sense with his lack of guns in origin. I think he’s design can be better, and maybe I’ll remake it.

I love his arc of recognizing people as equals and especially his interactions with Raphael. I think Ratchet often read him scrolls about history and magical artifacts.

- Bulkhead - No surprises here - mudwing fit him perfectly. I think that the Wreckers could been a big and strong mudwing troops, and Bulkhead was a bigwings in such a one. He is lost a lot of his siblings during the war, and therefore tries with all his might to protect the new members of his family. I absolutely adore his relationship with Miko and Jackie, so for me he’s one of the cutest character, and I tried to make his forms round and soft.

- Bumblebee - I know that majority draw him as a hivewing, but in that case the most logical for him will be a night/sandwing. Literally, autobots get their own Sunny)

I think in this version with his lack of a voice he could communicate using sign language or some variation of aquatic.

- Arcee - Also nothing special - she is a seawing. I originally wanted to give her a helmet but it was too hard to draw. Just like Sunny she was born pretty small and now even younger dragons can be bigger than her. I’m pretty sure she is old enough to have seen Bumblebee when he was a dragonet, so she's literally like an older sister to him.

Actually she really gives me a Queen Glory vibes with her sarcasm and dangerous beauty, so rainwing might fit her as well.

- Smokescreen - I used to think he was just a cringe, but now I realize he's a pretty interesting and realistic character. Like Ultra Magnus, I wanted to make him look like Optimus, only this time Smoke is more of a younger and much more irresponsible version of him. I think in this version (being part rainwing) he's trying to mimic Optimus's coloring using same red, blue and pale-gray shades.

- Wheeljack - The scruffy boy! I think in this version he could be Bulkhead's "adopted sibling", so they are really close to each other. And, because he spent most of his life with Bulkhead, it's harder for him to get close to other tribes and dragons.

Painting scales to keep canonical colors is kinda cheating, but for this dude it totally works. He should have a pretty bright appearance with all those scars and bright spots.

Cliffjumper - Ohoh… this poor guy. I didn't even think of putting him here, but I like his smug face too much. Even making his scales darker than the original, it's still too brightly colored for mudwing. He probably jokes about it a lot, saying that his ancestors were skywings.

I really like his dynamic with Arcee, and it's a shame we haven't seen much of their relationship. I think I need to do something cute about that.

#wof #wings of fire #mudwing #seawing #sandwing #tfp #transformers #transformers prime #wof crossover #tf #tf crossover #optimus prime #ultra magnus #bumblebee #arcee #ratchet #tfp smokescreen #cliffjumper #bulkhead

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holylulusworld · 3 months ago

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Pipsqueak & Grumpy

Summary: Logan defends you.

Pairing: Wolverine (Logan Howlett) x Plussized (short) Reader

Warnings: grumpy Wolverine (you know him), sunshine reader, plus-sized reader, bullying/fat-shaming, protective Wolverine

A/N: Please consider that I write for the taller version of Wolverine from the movies, not the comics.

“Slow down, big grump,” you giggle because your boyfriend (or not boyfriend because Logan hates the word) is stomping toward the bookstore. If he hates anything, it’s shopping, but he makes an exception for you. His hold on your hand is light, but it makes your heart flutter. “Logan.”

“What is it, Pipsqueak?” He stops in his tracks, almost making you bump into his back. Logan cocks one brow while looking down at you. “I’m not smoking.”

“I asked you to slow down.” You pout. “My legs are shorter, and you’re so fast.”

“Aw, do you want me to carry you?” Logan grabs your waist, intending to lift you. “I could throw you over my shoulder and carry you around. No problem, sweet Pipsqueak.”

“No!” You playfully swat his chest. “That’s for the bedroom only.” Your eyes narrow as you watch three girls and their boyfriends walk toward you and Logan. They watch you interact and start laughing.

“Man, I wouldn’t try lifting that chubby bumblebee,” one of the boys laughs. “You’ll break your back, or worse.”

Logan dips his head as they step closer. He grits his teeth, already tensing. One more word from the idiots not knowing what they got themselves into, and there will be blood coloring the street. Not Logan’s, though.

“First and final warning,” your boyfriend growls in their direction. “Get the fuck away from me and my girlfriend.” Your heart flutters because Logan called you his girlfriend in front of others; you only wish it wasn’t at that moment.

“GIRLFRIEND?” One of the girls says, scoffing. “You could do so much better. You’re not that old.” The group starts laughing when the boy talking shit calls you a fat, short cow.

Logan growls like the animal he can turn into. He gently cups your face and pecks your temple before he turns on his heels. Logan looks the boys up and down, a dark smirk on his lips.

One of them already steps back, tugging at his girlfriend’s hand.

“So, you think you can come here and talk like that about my girlfriend?” Logan’s voice alone makes the girls whimper. They didn’t expect Logan to look like a feral wolf when he turned around. “I see you need me to tell you how to treat a woman, right.”

“Sir, they didn’t mean to-.” The last boy raises his hands in surrender and walks back. “Uh, I didn’t say a thing.”

“You didn’t say a thing; that’s right.” Wolverine steps even closer. “At least your friends were brave enough to believe they could make fun of my girl. You were just standing next to them, laughing like a hyena. A real man would never allow his friends to do such a shady thing.”

“Sir…” The girl laughing at you squeaks. “But she’s…” She screams in terror when Logan lifts his left arm and slowly slides his claws out. He chuckles darkly when the girl wets her pants. “Nooooo!”

“What will it be, boys?” Logan asks, sliding the claws on his right hand out. “A taste of my claws, or you on your knees begging my beautiful girl for forgiveness.”

He cocks his head, waiting for their answer. The girls run off, while the boys fall to their knees, murmuring apologies.

“I can’t hear you!” Wolverine yells. “Louder! I want everyone to know that you are little boys with small dicks and even smaller brains. You will tell them that you said all this shit because you are not man enough to satisfy a hot-blooded woman like my girlfriend.”

“We are little boys with small dicks and even smaller brains,” the boys say in unison. “We are not man enough to satisfy your hot-blooded woman.”

“Damn right,” Logan huffs. He slides his claws back in, but steps closer to the kneeling boys. “You’ll stay like that for ten more minutes and repeat the words. If,” he says while sliding his claws back out, "you ever say something like that to anyone ever again, I’ll find you and cut your tiny cocks off.”

As fast as he put the group into their place, Logan turned back around, his features softening.

“Now, Pipsqueak, we are going to get the books you wanted,” Logan smirks when you look up at him like he’s your hero (and he truly is in any way).

He grabs your waist, easily lifts you, and throws you over his shoulders, laughing loudly as people stop walking only to stare at the bizarre scene. The boys are still reciting the words, while Logan carries you toward the bookstore, whistling a tune.

“Logan,” you giggle and laugh. “Let me down!”

“Never, Pipsqueak,” he laughs and swats your ass with his hand. “I’d never let you down.”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x y/n #logan howlett x you #plussized reader #x reader #Pipsqueak & Grumpy

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pseudowho · 7 months ago

Text

Domestic Bliss: Nanami Kento (feat. Grey/Post-Shibuya!Nanami) #4, Laundry

18+, MDNI

"I'll hang that out," Kento had reproached, pulling the laundry basket from your hands. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. "You promised me iced tea."

He had been out there for half an hour, you thought, stirring a sweating glass jug of amber tea. Jewelled ice and fruit swirled within. Ambling, probably, somewhere beyond the white sheets and cicada-buzz heat of summer. You felt a bead of sweat run down the small of your back beneath your cornflower sundress.

You walked onto the whitewashed porch, setting the jug and two glasses down by your swinging chair. You tried to spot your husband between the parallel lines of laundry, billowing like a ship's sails beneath the beating sun. Perhaps he was somewhere in the overgrowth, ethereal in long wildflowers and meadowsweet? You missed him already-- beautiful man, where are you?

Halfway down the sun-bleached steps, your heart gripped in your throat-- Kento's eye patch, discarded on the grass by the empty basket.

"Kento!" Your voice raised, panicking, all flesh-memory of near-loss, "Kento!" Your feet carried you, bare and running, flinging through white curtains and cotton fluff. Feeling another cry rise from your chest, you stopped between the two lines of laundry; Kento lay on his back in the grass, between them...asleep. His scarred face was soft and boyish with sleep, in the shade.

"Oh," you whispered, kneeling over him, straddling his belly, and smoothing your hand over his scars, "...god, you really are. Beautiful." You felt so serene, watching him rest, so at peace and free of pain. He had reeled you in.

Kento's hand shot up to grasp yours, and he laughed at your squeak; "Got you."

A white sheet caught on his leg as he flipped you onto your back, and settled over you both, hiding you in a dappled pocket-universe of your own. Kento knelt over you, trapping you to the grass and daisies, a hungry glimmer in his remaining eye.

"I was waiting for you," he hummed into your skin, his mouth hot, tasting the sweat off your neck. You sighed into his kiss, your back arching up. His hands explored you with a slow urgency, pulling down the front of your sundress and kneading your breasts, grazing your nipples until they formed sweet peaks.

"...I thought..." you breathed, lost in his mouth travelling down your breasts, and his hands pushing your sundress up to your belly, "...thought...you wanted iced-tea..."

"I do," he whispered, his lips now working at your pussy over the thin cotton of your underwear. He shivered to hear you cry out into the cool, not-quite-dry sheet, "I just think...it needs a little extra something, first." You mewled, your fingers tangling into Kento's hair, to feel his tongue dip inside you.

Only the fat lazy bumblebees and the meadowsweet knew how Kento made love to you in the garden, that day.

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ragingbookdragon · 11 months ago

Text

Hanging By A Moment

Bayverse Transformers x Reader Blurbs

Word Count: 940 Warnings: None

Author's Note: I love TF so much. I miss it all lol -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Ironhide:

“This is…different,” she notes as she arrives into the darkened field; the veil of the moon blankets the land in an ivory haze, yet Ironhide’s sleek body is visible from even the edge. It’s remote enough that they don’t have to worry about being seen; she nears him with a curious look on her face. “Ironhide?”

His tailgate lowers and with a surprised expression that quickly gives way to a pleasant smile, she climbs onto the back, kicks her shoes off, and lays down on the makeshift bedding, resting her head on the pillow.

“Did you do this all for me?” she asks. “Aren’t you so sweet underneath all that firepower.”

“Have to treat my best girl, don’t I?” Ironhide teases back. “You’ve been working awfully hard lately. Even I know to take a break once in a while.”

She hums and curls into the blankets, almost feeling like they’re keeping warm and toasty. “No rest for the wicked, Ironhide. The Decepticons won’t wait while I rest.”

He grumbles, deep and low, and she can’t help but laugh. “Then you’ll rest, and I’ll kick ass.”

“Okay, bud,” she jokes, resting her head back on the pillow. “Take care of me while I rest.”

***

Rachet:

“When I said I wanted to spend some time alone with you, Rachet…this isn’t necessarily what I meant.”

His frame rumbles as he slows to a stop on the side of the canyon. “I can turn around, if you’d like?”

“You better not,” she warns and points a finger at the steering wheel. “You promised to take me out to the stars.”

She can hear the smile in his hum as he starts driving again. “When you mentioned you’ve always wanted to see the stars up close, I figured this would be the best I could give you.” He shifts back the roof, and her eyes widen at the expanse of bright stars above her.

“Oh my God,” she breathes, unable to help but stand up in the front seat, rising out of the rooftop. “Rachet, it’s…it’s incredible.”

He slows to a stop at the edge and stills. “It’s almost as incredible as you are. But somehow, their brightness can’t even come close to how beautiful you shine.”

Slipping back into the seat, she reaches forward and gently presses her lips to his steering wheel. “Thank you, Rachet. For doing this for me…for us.”

***

Bumblebee:

It’s almost one AM by the time they make it back into the city. Eerily enough, the roads are almost empty, and Bumblebee has a straight shot back to the facility, but he passes the particular highway that leads to it.

She notices from her sleepy haze in the passenger seat. “Bee? You missed the turn.”

He makes a noise that she recognizes as his answer of “Yes.”

“Where are we going?” she’s not worried in the slightest, knows that Bumblebee wouldn’t ever take her somewhere she could get hurt; she’s still curious though.

“Don’t worry about it,” a voiceover from a TV show filters through and she snorts tiredly.

“Alright, Bee, keep your secrets.” She shifts in his seat and reclines back, unable to help but trace the threading in the console. “You takin’ me home, Bee?”

“Take me home tonight!” he sings, and she smiles, gently shutting her eyes as the streetlights still shine across her face as they pass between shadows.

“I’m happy, Bee,” she murmurs. “You know that? I’m always happy with you.”

He’s silent for a long while and she wonders if maybe he didn’t hear her, but it doesn’t bother her as she curls up in the passenger seat and begins to drift off, only to hear quietly through the speakers, “I’m living for the only thing I know. I’m running and not quite sure where to go. And I don’t know what I’m diving into, just hanging by a moment here with you.”

***

Optimus:

“Sorry about the rain, Optimus,” she murmurs as they take shelter in the rundown warehouse. “I can’t imagine it’s going to let up…we’ll be here for a while.”

She watches as steam begins to flow from his body, fans in his processors blowing until the water is simply droplets here and there.

“That’s handy,” she jokes, and he meets her gaze with a smile.

“While rust isn’t a big a worry to myself as it is Ironhide, I’d rather not take any chances.”

She nods and takes off her jacket, wringing it out. “It’ll be dark soon. We should set up a perimeter.” The echoing of his transformation sounds in the warehouse, and she looks up. “Optimus?” His door opens and closes a few times until she gets the hint to climb in.

As she enters, the cab opens, and she slips further inside. It’s smaller than she imagined, given that outside he’s much larger but she assumes he’s somehow made some room for her. It’s a small bedding, smaller than a door, but enough that she can curl up on it, propping her arm under her head. She’s about to say it’s cold when the fans blow again and fill the cab with a warmth that feels like she wrapped herself in a blanket straight out of the drier.

And he knows it too as he asks, “Comfortable?”

“Mhm,” she murmurs and scoots back until her back is against the wall of his cab; it feels good to have him at her back, safe and secure. “I think I could lie here forever.”

“When there is peace, my spark,” he says. “We will lie forever.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” and she knows his words ring with truth.

#transformers bayverse #bayverse transformers #bayverse transformers x reader #transformers x reader #ironhide x reader #ironhide #rachet x reader #rachet #bumblebee x reader #bumblebee #optimus x reader #optimus #optimus prime x reader #optimus prime #transformers

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