#all tails bc my brain is rotting

[kotekling]

some prime stuff

first one was referenced using an older reference sheet by @tsaikonautz thank u 🙏🙏

[k9wa]

⟁ 7:14 PM ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — braiding his hair bc my brain is rotting and i miss him.

⚠︎ fluff, thats really it, mechanic!reader but its not really relevant, suggestive if you squint and cover one eye and hang upside down. gn reader, wc 860.

boothill's head was lulled back between a pair of soft, comfy thighs, eyes a content and lazy half lidded as he felt some familiar calloused and precise fingers detangling little pieces of his hair. the sun was almost down past the horizon, and the last few warm rays peeking out left the room hued a gentle orange colour, its two inhabitants bathing in it.. 

he felt a slight tug here and there as you worked your magic, taking the knots out of those long white locks with patient fingers.

“you have such pretty hair.”

you mused quietly, combing out another strand with your nails. boothill's lips tugged up lightly in a gentle smirk— a hint of pride washing over him. he was a bigger sucker for praise than he’d ever admit.

“well, it’s gotta look good if it’s gonna match th’rest of me.” he drawled, voice a low rumble filled with a certain ease that rarely surfaced— well, rarely with others, anyway. he received a playful tug of his hair in response.boothill leaned back a bit more, trying to catch a glimpse of your endearing focussed expression.

he was slowly melting against your deft fingertips, silently whirring internals mimicking the quiet purr of a cat as you twirled a piece around your finger. 

“can i braid it?” you asked simply, already sectioning out a few strands at the top. 

“do whatever you want, sugar.” he granted with a little shrug, smirk still playing on his lips. “reckon a braid’ll help keep it from flyin’ into my eyes so much.”

he felt the rhythmic crossing of each strand as you began to braid, every brush of your nails against his scalp sending a pleasant shiver right through his wires.

“y’know,” he opened, voice still that gravely tone you could never get enough of. “ain’t nobody else i’d sit still for like this.” he admitted, brashness taking a backseat to give way to a tenderness reserved for one person only.

“yeah?” you smiled a bit, continuing to braid. “just for me, huh?”

boothill couldn’t help but let out a scruff, throaty chuckle, vibrations running through his chest.“just for you, darlin’.” he echoed.

 “you’ve got a magic touch, i s’ppose,” his eyes shut briefly. “could get used to this.”

the melodic and methodic movements of your fingers were earnestly making him drowsy, a soothing lullaby that laced and weaved around him in the same patterns as his hair. 

“like being pampered?” you teased playfully, earning a chuckle from him.

“you just got a way of makin’ a man feel real special. that’s all.”

your fingers kept slowly crossing and twisting strands.

“you should let me curl it some day,” you suggested, amusing yourself with the thought of him dawning a bunch of puffy ringlets. “you’d look like ‘genti.”

boothill's low laughter echoed quietly in the room, a deep sound that harmonised with your own. 

“now that’d be somethin’ to see,” he admitted with a playful scoff. “ol’ boothill with curls bouncin’ around like some dandy.”

he shook his head as he pictured it, and you had to flick his cheek to remind him to look straight.

“i'd sport some curls if it meant i get to see you smilin’.”

you smiled fondly at that, taking a small hair tie and wrapping it around the tail of his braid.

“you’re sweeter than you let on.” you reached around to fix his bangs a little bit. 

“there.” you tilted his head up a bit to look at him, feigning shock. “well, ain’t you pretty?”

hearing his own southern drawl echoed back to him made the cowboy snort. “ain’t i just the belle of the ball now?”

boothill's hand instinctively reached back to feel your handiwork, prosthetic fingers tracing along the weaves of his hair.

“mighty fine job, sugar plum.” he commended, turning around to face you on his knees, hands sliding up your thighs until they met behind your back in a careful hug around your waist. he looked up at you— really looked at you, that mushy softness in him pushing out through the cracks you always left in his defences. 

“thanks, darlin’.” he said quietly, those red cruciform pupils locked in on your own. “means more’en you might know, you spendin’ your time fussin’ over me like this.”

the cyborg’s head fell comfortably down in your lsp, nuzzling into you.

“i think fussing over you is a full time job,” you teased lightly, a smile evident in your voice. “not that i mind.”

one of your hands traced the mechanical connections of his arm, all the way up until your fingers gave a gentle brush to his cheek.

boothill let out a breathy chuckle, some air fanning across your tummy. his fingers, a soothing and smooth cool metal, traced little shapes along your lower back.

“well, i reckon i oughta start payin’ you overtime for such dedication.” he quipped quietly, demeanour playful yet earnest as always.

“paying me to start might be better.” you gave a playful pinch to his cheek.  

“i got a few ideas for how i can pay ya,” he teased back, giving a little nip to your thigh.

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[satoruxx]

Erm. The brain rot took over.

Does hybird!Toji's tail wag when he's near us?????? And does he let us touch/groom it considering its a rlly sensitive part and he trusts us??????????????

OK YUP YUP THANK YOU FOR LISTENING.

(Your honour he gives my life)

YESSSS BRING FORTH THE BRAINROT NONNIE I'M HERE TO LISTEN :3333

tee hee yes it doessss !! toji's very subtle about it now, but it becomes more frequent once he gets comfy and actually starts falling for you !! there are a few moments in the past chapters where he will notice his tail slowly going back and forth, but refuses to acknowledge it bc wtf??? curse his animal body for betraying him like this.

but in the near future, he will allow himself the freedom to let it wag. especially if you're both joking around or he's trying to push your buttons, you bet he's subconciously doing it. it's just a sign that he's truly letting loose around you :(((

(that and he's quite literally obsessed with you and everything you do makes him so stupidly giddy.)

toji's so funny too because he will give you the most abrupt and grumpy responses and yet his tail is literally thumping against the ground... like bro who are you fooling??

(try calling him out for it and he will put you in a headlock.)

as for touching/grooming, honestly i don't think he would let you do it now. even once you guys are comfortable and shit i think he still has a lot of reservations about people touching him. and especially a part that is so sensitive and vulnerable... i think he'd rather take care of it himself y'know?? BUT once your relationship is in full swing??? oh babe touch him wherever you want he was always only yours anyway.

once you're dating him he quite literally will trust you with his entire being. wanna wear knives on your feet and walk all over him?? do it, he's laying down for you already.

i just think wolf!toji will always have that reserved stance with humans, and it takes the confirmation that you actually do love him and won't hurt him for him to finally allow you that privilege.

also i think a big thing for him would be the implications behind allowing you access to a part of him that is so vulnerable?? the idea makes his head spin... i think a lot of his reluctance also comes from embarassment bc god knows he does not want to lose his shit around you....

(and he will for sure.)

[wintersera]

THE GISELLE THOUGHTS ??? I am going crazy giselle does not get appreciated enough and her thighssss, plsss write a longer fic where she corrupts reader and makes her ride her thighs? 🏃‍♀️

notes: readers a virgin and aeris a little bit of a pervy creep.. also this is like almost noncon? ATP this is a full fic like oopsies my bad- i meant for it to be an imagine but i got carried away

cw: dubcon, corruption kink (hope i did it well 😭), innocent!reader, thigh riding 🤤

man… it was 3am and you were bored as hell. like bored as fawk ://

the last days of summer vacation had you exhausted even though you really didn’t do much. and lord were you tired from well… being tired. your best chances of getting rid of your boredom was to contact someone, yet no one you liked was online. just a couple of people you knew from class because of a project and that was about it… thats so fucking boring 😭

sitting up and thinking in your emptied and rotting brain, you pace around your room wondering what you should do. like if it was some miracle, your friend, bestest friend- aeri was online.

opening up your dms you find that she beat you to it- her messages appearing as soon as you opened the app.

NOW, you were excited as hell. not seeing aeri in ages bc of college and whatnot, you felt your heart skip a beat because of some short message she sent. oh you gay ass- anyways, you get to see her again and you couldn’t contain you excitement. now if you had a dog tail it would be wagging so hard rn.. yes, you were that excited to see her.

after a while she pulled up in your driveway like the hot ass bitch she was, yeah sunglasses on even though it was almost pitch black outside (she actually put them on before she saw you open the door) she wore a white baggy tshirt on and some shorts and that was it. it was hot all day and the cool night breeze really helped with that “you just gonna stand there? or… are you gonna come inside”

“you gonna let me have the aux?” she giggles at you, nodding as you duck your head to get inside her car.

the sky was pretty, the view was gorgeous and even she looked stunning, the moonlight highlighting her sideprofile,,, lawd have mercy she was so ethereal.

—

throughout the entire journey you were pouring your whole soul out to girls generation songs,, i mean fr, you were belting out the notes like mariah carey- it was that serious for you 😭 and aeri yet looked at you with fondness in her eyes… funnily enough you looked like a hot mess in front of her. a thrown on tshirt and some shorts you found on the floor bc she came around too early,, way too early, she looked at you as if you were the prettiest mf ever, a slight blush on her face. aeri thanked all things holy that it was dark outiside, she thought that you would notice her blushing at you and your silly antics- even though you were a little dense that you would never think that your bestie was thinking of so many nasty things.

you didn’t realise it, but she had her hand resting on the top of your thigh, massaging your flesh ever so lightly, however your dumbass was too occupied with gee (STREAM GEE BY GIRLS GENERATION) aeri could feel her face heat up, she knew touching you like this was so wrong, but when would she ever get the chance to touch you ever again? the way you weren’t even paying attention made her think she could get away with it. she couldn’t help the way she thought of you, you looked so damn pretty and she had to ravish you.

all of a sudden the car jerked… then stopped in the middle of fuckass no where.

“aeri?”

“we’re here-“ she huffs

“i can’t see anything?”

“don’t worry you’re pretty little head about it, just come out. the view is actually nice here” but she knew she was lying. getting you out of the car was one thing, shoving you into the back seat was another- as soon as you were thrown into the back, aeri had also placed herself on the seat next to you, the corner of her lips tugging up ever so slightly “don’t be scared just… come here” pulling you closer by the front of your shirt.

aeri was strong as fuck- like she was strong STRONG using her bigass hands to pull you in by the waist… 😵‍💫 why exactly did she lock the car with you and her in the back? was she planning to murder you or something? is that why she called you out so early in the night? all these questions kept circling around in your head, you couldn’t exactly understand her intentions and you were scared to death.

a cold sweat ran down your temple, ohhh you thought you were fucked… but now she’s moving you onto her lap? your face meeting hers, her hot breath hitting your neck when she nuzzles into the crook of it “aeri…?” a painfully slow hand caresses your hips. shaking, no, shuddering in her grasp, you felt terrified and confused as her hands wondered across your hips to your bare back “you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting for this… just you and me” her voice low and raspy. her hands rested back down onto your hips, squeezing them in a way that made your stomach coil.

“i-i don’t get what you’re doing.. let me go aeri” frantically looking around to see if there was any escape, to your misfortune there were none and you were utterly fucked. the grip on your hips became stronger- clearly she didn’t want you to leave “let me go!! aeri please” she felt mean,, seeing you so vulnerable and weak, yet that didn’t stop her. firmly holding you, she moves your hips back and forth across her thighs, eliciting a squeek from you.

“what was that?” a chuckle from her

“what’s so funny? aeri, you’re so fucked up”

another chuckle.

innocent… aeri had the strongest urge to completely destroy your innocence.

again she rocked your hips, this time pressing you down on her thighs harder “a-ah… feels funny” you couldn’t explain it, but there was this weird heat between your legs whenever she moved you against her. it felt alien, yet you didn’t deny that it felt sort of felt good.

despite your pleas she continued to make you ride her. you were an emotional wreck, you felt so fucking scared but at the same time you felt ecstatic. tears fell from your eyes and stained her shirt yet she kept going and going, going so far until you began rocking your hips yourself.

eventually you were fucking yourself on her thighs all by yourself. aeri noticed that and laughed, taking her hands off of your hips and wrapping them around your waist “h-huh… why’d you let go?”

“enjoying yourself? thought you were begging me to stop… or did you secretly want me to do this to you”

she stopped you with another firm grip

“do you want to feel good?” you nod embarrassingly, it felt good… and you wanted more of it, although you didn’t know why it felt like electricity lit your body up.

“mmm..”

“move on your own then” oh the embarassment, the humiliation. you were so innocent that you didn’t know how to move by yourself. aeri had to guide you bc you were sooo clueless, yet here she is telling you to do it on your own while she watches you crumble.

“i don’t know how…”

“figure it out.. you want to feel good right? just move your hips like you did earlier” and you do, moving in slow circles as the fabric on your soaked panties hits your clit in the best way possible.

watching you with a keen eye, aeri felt aroused by you. your innocence slowly fading away with each moan and each thrust, seeing how you pressed your body closer to hers unconsciously and how the way your eyes glistened from the tears you previously shed. you looked like a hot mess and she was glad she contributed to it.

your movements became faster and sloppier, your sighing turned into whimpers and eventually into moans. an unfamiliar tightening in your stomach formed “mmm.. ah- aeri? aeri… coming.. feels like somethings coming”

you stopped abruptly, you felt something rush head to toe, making you scream out aeri’s name. arching your back into aeris embrace.

after a while you calmed down, coming back to reality and shit- aeri just looked at you with a huge grin and hoisted you off of her. eyeing the mess you made on her legs you, again, panic. this time it was more out of concern rather than fear “i’m sorry i didn’t mean to wet myse-“

“it’s not pee dumbass, you came- anyways, did it feel good?”

“it’s not pee?? and what??? also… yeah it felt good…”

it’s safe to say aeri drove you home. you blacking out from waisting your energy on getting yourself off- and because she’s ur bestie she has spare keys to your door. princess carrying you into your bed and making herself comfy in it as well. you and her slept for the god knows how long.

i mean moral of the story let your bestie fuck you i guess idk.. sorry if it seems rushed </33

[yandere-daydreams]

Feel free to ignore this! I'm just v sleep deprived and having brain rot inspired by some things I saw in ur writing and thought it may be up ur alley. Also this brainrot thingy is mainly aimed at readers who have the ability to get pregnant so if that don't sit right with you feel free to ignore it or change aspects of it!

Hear me out right. A mix of the sex doll au and hybrid au (either fox or husky) for childe. But like in the doll au how he replaces components as a form of trying to live out the dad fantasy? Yeah that but in the hybrid au. Like reader is trying to rehabilitate this poor little baby fox kit/husky puppy that's really sickly and was abandoned. Childe basically looks at the reader playing nurse/mommy for this poor thing almost 24/7 (his attention is being deprived lol) and goes "oh yeah that little one is ours duh". He starts exhibiting protective dad behavior while simultaneously being like "look at how good of a job I can do".

Follow up to that the pup/kit either gets better and can be handed off to another conservationist who has other young hybrids and would do a better job at caring for them in a group environment with other hybrid kiddos so there's less of a risk of em becoming too domesticated. And reader is supper bummed out about it for a while bc all their attention was zoned in on this one really precious little one and now they've moved onto bigger pastures 🥲. Meanwhile childe sees this and is like "oh now I can both console my mate in their grief, I've proven I'm a capable partner, I can totally help them make new little ones!"

Take all of that inspo/brainstorming as u will. Also if you consider people submitting ideas as commissions I apologize for misunderstanding! Did not intend to overstep 🙇‍♀️

tw - implied violence, child neglect/abandonment, and obsessive behavior.

fjdkljdfksdj i think this would probably be more plausible with husky!childe, but something about this scenario with fox!childe is just,,,

it'd just be so sweet to watch him dote over the tiny, terrified kit one of your friends found shivering in a snowbank. you really aren't qualified to take care of such a young hybrid, but while you scramble to get a hold of a more experienced volunteer, childe picks up the slack. despite being old enough to walk, the poor thing barely leaves his arms. he handles their near-hourly feedings, modifies the ill-fitting clothes you pull out of storage to accommodate their tail and hind legs, even lets them crawl between you and him at night and violate his cardinal rule (no one else gets to so much as touch your bed except for him - an unspoken law that's resulted in more than a few bitten hands and bleeding guests). he does his best to put a dent in their never-ending energy, and when it's time for you to take over, he's never more than a few feet away, wagging his tail as you take the kit's temperature and try to convince them to swallow a few drops of medicine. and, when you finally contact a volunteer with a small shelter and a pack of orphaned kits, childe seems as happy as you are, rubbing his cheek against theirs as he tells them that they'll be home soon enough. it's sweet, even if fox-hybrid dynamics are, admittedly, a little lost on you. honestly, you're just relieved you'll be able to sleep through the night again.

at least, you're relieved until you get back from work the next day, until you find your door unlocked and your apartment wrecked, furniture overturned and rust-colored stains soaked into your carpeting. you find childe on the foot of your bed, bouncing a crying kit in his lap and gushing them quietly, but he doesn't look concerned. if anything, his posture is slack, the smile written across his face nothing short of ecstatic. he looks calm. he looks happy.

he looks like someone who only just found his way home.

[orion-nottson]

devil’s in the details | tfp!megatron x reader

A/N: i have tfp megatron brain rot. like i know he’s cray cray and deluded, but literally so am i we’re made for each other he’s mine

also this obvi deviates from canon, bc there is no way on god’s green earth that dreadwing and starscream could coexist semi-peacefully.

also, please be warned that i haven’t written transformers fanfic since i was like 14 💀💀 fought for my LIFE with the terminology (had to check my old WATTPAD stories to find some vocab 💀)

summary: lord megatron propositions you. it’s a rather bold request.

content: SMUT, 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, femme!cybertronian!reader, seeker!reader, sticky sexual interfacing, breeding kink, wee lil bit of choking, technically boss/employee relationship, power dynamic (it gets semi-resolved), implied past relationship/thought unrequited love, average decepticon emotional constipation, business arrangement procreation

word count: 6,367

~ * ~ * ~

The Decepticon warship lingers somewhere over the southern pole of Earth, resulting in a dramatic decrease in temperature, even with the efficiency of Cybertronian technology. You shift your wings for the umpteenth time, armor plates releasing air to alleviate the discomforting chill that’s started to bother you. Of course, it was far from being so cold that you needed to worry about your core temperature, but you are a Seeker from Vos, and Vos was always warm.

The thought makes your wings tremble again, so you hurry yourself to your quarters with a bit more haste.

It wouldn’t suddenly be warm and tropical, but at least you’d be able to curl up and shiver in privacy. Recharge sounds particularly nice too, considering you’ve been up for several cycles trying to appease Lord Megatron’s endless demands. Inwardly, you roll your optics— There seems to be nothing you can do that would satisfy him.

The corridor finally breaks into the wing that houses Decepticon high command, where yours and your fellow officers reside. Your room is down almost the entire expanse of the hall, the turn right before where Megatron’s personal habsuite lies. From where you’re walking, you can spot the sleek, black metal door. A chill runs up your back struts, and your processor convinces you it’s from the icy cold that’s overtaken the Nemesis.

“Curse this inhospitable, organic planet.” Muttering to yourself dissuades you from also blaming your Master, who was no help either, if you were to be honest. He could shove his “not wanting to expend precious Energon on unnecessary heating” decree up his tail pipe.

You resign yourself to some rather cold nights for the foreseeable future. Perhaps... If you played your cards right, as the humans say, you could convince Soundwave to pilot the ship north. Maybe somewhere near Hawaii...

A sharp, gravelly voice from behind you calls your name, and you spin around to see your Lord and Master a ways down the corridor from you. Immediately bringing yourself to attention, you straighten your back struts and bow politely.

“My liege.” You say, thanking Primus you’ve become so accustomed to Megatron’s thunderous shouts that you no longer jump, let alone flinch, when they occur. The silver mech strides up to you easily, displaying all the strength of a warrior in the confidence of his steps.

“Retiring to your quarters?” He asks austerely, as if he’s ever concerned himself with your whereabouts, let alone personal routine. Unease creeps up on you, so you shift on the thrusters of your peds and cross your servos over your chassis. Wings fluttering, you reply slowly, “Well, yes.”

“Allow me to accompany you there.” The silver mech says brightly, and it’s such an absurdly peculiar request for both the mech saying it and the situation at hand. You instinctively snort a laugh.

“I do believe I know the way to my own habsuite, my Lord.” You say before you can stop the words from coming out, and immediately regret them once they do. You meet Megatron’s hard stare sheepishly, wings dropping timorously. Forgetting your place in the grand scheme of things is not wise amongst the Decepticon ranks.

To your utter shock, you’re not met with a vicious reprimand and instead Megatron grins— this wickedly suave thing— and purrs, “Humor me.”

And all you can say is, “Of course.”

Megatron hums appreciatively, brushing past you as he takes the lead, like he always does. You step in time behind him, nearly colliding into his back struts when he suddenly halts, and you stumble backwards a few steps. The looming mech pivots, glancing down at you with a quizzical expression in his glowing optics.

“Seekers are a rare breed, yes?” Lord Megatron asks, and whatever game he’s begun to play with you genuinely stumps any reasoning you attempt. Opening your mouth, your optics dart over his face, trying to decode whatever message your Master is sending and coming up empty. 

“Er... Yes, my liege? Even before the war, Vos was not a populous city-state. There are probably... even less now.” You reply cautiously, becoming very put off as Megatron takes a step towards you. He looks as impassive as ever, though you’re beginning to see a very curious appraising expression overtaking his faceplates. It begins with the upcurve of his mouth, derma pulled into the most wolfish grin you’ve ever seen on the mech.

Utterly bizarre. Your processors want to reset because this Megatron is starting to look like the studly gladiator of Kaon you’d hear be lasciviously giggled about, not the ruthless, merciless tyrant he’s supposed to be.

“I have a rather... avant-garde proposition for you, my most loyal Seeker.” Megatron purrs, his servos clasped easily behind him as you’ve seen him too many times before, often when he schemes. He’s also talking to you as if this is casual, expected business of him; matter-of-fact and cordial, with his usual cool drawl.

Before you can reply, Megatron turns sharply once more and begins walking down the corridor, stopping after a few steps when he realizes you hadn’t started with him. He turns his helm to look back at you, this time there’s this strangely unreadable expression on his faceplates.

“Follow me.” He says simply, and without a second thought, you do.

Even though you’re a Seeker with naturally long legs, his pedsteps are even longer strides, so you have to exert some effort in keeping up with Megatron. It adds to the growing franticness that’s begun to bubble up inside your chassis. 

While not exactly fear, though that’s certainly part of it, you’ve been a Decepticon and aboard the Nemesis under Megatron’s direct command long enough to know that when he becomes cryptic, it means trouble. Or at least a command that you’d rather not be the one to deal with. Bluntly asking what the frag he’s on about wouldn’t be the best course of action, but you know that he likes you enough not to offline you immediately if you did.

So you do.

“My Lord, what exactly are you asking of me?” You inquire, noting with slight abject horror as Megatron approaches the door to your quarters and types in your lock code with ease. Of course, he is the leader after all. Instead of answering your question, he makes you feel even more uneasy by throwing you a mysteriously sultry look and quipping, “Let me have you if only for a breem. Or longer should I entertain you.”

You catch the flash of his ruby optics, their intentions indiscernible, and then he disappears into your habsuite like it’s his own.

There’s something to it, an itch of a thought that’s begun to decipher the puzzle and put together the pieces. Lately, Megatron has been far more... involved with you, more eager at your presence, and it was blatantly obvious that he grew quite miffed when others got too close. It was no secret to anyone— From Soundwave and Starscream to a lowly technician— that Megatron had an optic for you (many did, frankly) and thus he was quite possessive of your wiles and charms as well.

This line of thought leads you to step into your room, slowly and evenly as if it’s unmarked territory and not the quarters that were assigned to you millennia ago.

“Lord Megatron...” You trail off, catching his stare just as he sets your old null ray back on your weapons rack, where most of your old, dismantled, and prized tools are located. Your null ray had been a favorite, until some blasted Autobot blew out the important bits that kept it working. That had stung, and even eons later you still curse that specific Autobot to the Pits.

Megatron flexes his claws, and with a flourish he clasps his servos behind him once again. His red optics scan the entirety of your quarters, lingering on your berth until they come back to rest on you. His gaze is equal parts unnerving and fascinating, as if he’s deconstructing you armor by armor, stripping you down until he’s watched your spark pulse.

His optics, like twin red suns, center you at their universes, and you feel oddly... flattered at their amorous disposition.

“It is no secret that I have watched you for some time.” Megatron starts, tilting his helm as he becomes pensive. You nod dumbly, hardly processing a word he’s saying. Megatron takes a single step towards you, looming like a shadow. In the dim lighting of your room, his silver armor catches all the chiaroscuro, his violet accents hued to black. Only his glowing, fiery optics remain bright. He continues.

“I admit,—” Megatron drawls your name deliciously, “— That I have found myself... captivated by your beauty. Entranced by your prowess, both in battle and mind.”

“I...” Your vents hitch, wings shivering at the praise. Blinking rapidly to ensure this isn’t some monumentally vivid dream, you clear your intake and say, “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, my Lord.”

Megatron laughs, that slight chuckle that sounds halfway between his engines roaring and something genuine that comes from the spark. The silver mech’s rolls his shoulders, armor hissing as it releases air. Wildly, he confesses something you never would have expected from him, “I believe myself bewitched.”

His servos have clasped themselves into fists at his sides, and briefly you wonder if he’s angry with you, then his entire frame relaxes like he’s decompressing after a long spar with Dreadwing.

“Tell me, my little Seeker, why have you denied yourself of me for so long?” Megatron asks it like a tease, like he’s some boon to be revered or a sacred sword to be wielded. Heat rises beneath your armor plating, and your processors race kilometers a nanosecond to find a suitable answer. Or at least one that doesn’t make you sound like some lovesick femmeling.

You couldn’t lie and say you had no... feelings for your Master, who was as handsome and dark as he was powerful and cunning. Megatron was once a gladiator of Kaon, and gladiators on Cybertron were what you had often admired, marveling at their strength, drive, and raw spark. Megatron had been no different, though you also found his commanding presence and impressive intellect to be even more attractive.

That was really why you’d joined the Decepticon cause all those millennia ago; Drawn to your Master’s fight to bring equality to the rigid castes and to seize control of the Energon supply to better disperse it by his charismatic allure.

And somehow, Megatron knew all of this.

“It would have been insubordination if I acted upon my... desires.” You reply, crossing your arms over your ample chassis with a shrug. Megatron matches your collected temperament with a hum, staring down at you with unreadable red optics.

“Indeed. Though I wish you’d had disobeyed, my little Seeker.” Megatron purrs, taking a step towards you that closes the space between your frames and boxes you in. His EM field magnifies the atmosphere around you, tingling at the periphery of yours.

“M-My liege?” You gape, faceplates feeling hot as metal left in direct sunlight. He chuckles, and sinfully the tip of his glossa runs over his pointed denta. Your spark skips a beat, owlishly watching 

“If I had known sooner that you wanted me as direly as I did you, then this song and dance would have concluded vorns ago.” Megatron growls, optics flashing with not anger, but lust. He takes another step, and you’re speechless.

“That being said, I am patient. I have no qualms with how long we have waited, nor will I if you choose to wait longer.” One of the tyrant’s long, clawed digits clicks at the bottom of your chin, tilting your face upwards. His touch is delicate, like you’d break if he pushed too hard. Honestly, you probably would if he did. Part of you wants to see him try.

“What did you want to ask of me?” You whisper, optics fluttering until they stay half-lidded and dewy under the carnal scrutiny of your Lord. Megatron grins, a sliver of sharp denta flashing in the lowlights of your habsuite. He takes a final step towards you, a half-shuffle that does well to close the gap between your frames, the air warming from the work of your combined engines. You hope he feels the way your spark races, hope he feels the heat emanating from your core.

“Give me an heir, carry a sparkling of my code and stand beside me as my queen.” With each word, laden with desire until it shows in his optics that drip with lust, Megatron has you against the wall of your habsuite, one servo tracing the sleek edge of your wing.

It’s entirely intoxicating, and against your better judgment and all remaining reason— and mostly because you haven’t had a good, hard frag in ages— you moan.

It’s a soft, angelic sound that barely catches on the audials, but it makes Megatron grin like a shark. You gasp, affronted, optics flickering, “My liege!”

“Have I offended you?” He breathes, and suddenly his mouth is against your neck cables, each word leaving the softest of kisses on your Energon lines. Your resolve nearly crumbles entirely, each brush of his dermas like a shot of high grade to the systems. You sigh, vents hissing, and place one servo on his chassis. Beneath the broad expanse of silver armor, his engines rumble like thunder on the horizon. It makes you pulse with need.

“No.” You whisper, wanting to sing as Megatron kisses the slope of your jaw, then pecks the side of your mouth, agape with shock. He pulls back, the heat of him evaporating as soon as he’s once again standing at his full height. You tremble, not from the cold, but from his absence. 

It’s not something you’d ever given much thought about, your feelings towards your Lord and Master, but it’s something that’s come rushing back. All the suppressed thoughts, the dashed dreams, the impossible futures... They come back to you and leave you weak in the knee joints, cooling fans whirring from the memories of the fantasies you’d entertained when you’d had long midnights alone.

“What say you then?” Megatron’s stare is hard, unshaking and fully serious. He wants to have a sparkling with you, wants you to bear him an heir— He wants you as his queen and equal, to stand beside him and lead the Decepticon cause. The expression on his face is a cross between a wild animal, wanting to ravage you the nanosecond you say Yes, and the warlord with enough resolve and self-restraint to accept if you say No.

It’s all so much at once. Eons of time made up in just a single question. Details and technicalities will have to be conferred over later, as for now you’re content with the conditions as-is.

“Well... You are a handsome mech, my liege.” You reply, teasing him by placing a chaste kiss directly on the Decepticon insignia on his chassis. He doesn’t say anything, only his engine rumbles more audibly. You look up at him and salaciously imply with a coy smirk, “I do believe we’d make a fine clutch of sparklings.”

And then you find yourself swept up into his arms, back struts and wings pressed against the wall, your Lord’s hips slotted perfectly against yours. The more base urges inside you squeal, your Seeker coding nearly overtaking you and having you present to him like a turbofox in heat.

Not one to be outdone, Megatron quips, “And you are quite the striking femme— Shall I ravage you against the wall or your berth?”

You laugh, cut off only when Megatron captures your dermas in his, drowning you in the roughness of a mech starved of Energon. He kisses like he owns the practice and has made it an artform; Dragging your dermas with his, glossa invading your mouth, denta nipping dangerously close to sensitive nodes and wiring. You moan and gasp, coming to the realization that one of your servos grips his wrist and the other is flat against his chassis.

You shutter your optics, reveling in Megatron’s power and dominance, wanting so desperately for him to devour you. The warmth blossoms, spreading throughout your core until you feel charges pulse at your interface panels that have you whimpering.

After what feels like vorns, Megatron parts and your dermas unlock with a metallic pop. Megatron’s mouth ghosts over yours, and he hums as he repeats himself, “Berth or wall, little Seeker?”

“The berth, my liege.” You urge breathlessly, a delighted sound escaping you as Megatron heaves you from the wall and carries you to your desired destination. He isn’t gentle when he deposits you on your berth, doesn’t mind the wings, so you hiss when your back struts connect with the metal beneath you. Megatron manages to keep himself between the smooth metal of your thighs as he hitches one knee up onto the berth.

“I wonder,” Megatron stops to kiss you deeply once more, making your processors spin, “If this is an auspicious position for conception.”

A bite to the dermas stifles your wanton moan. Your Lord may not be fully aware of it yet, but each mention of being sparked, of bearing his heirs, has your more base urges spiraling out of control. While Vos was not populated by many Seekers, the need to breed is more hardwired into the programming than most other frame types. His words act like fuel to the fire.

“O-Oh— I can only hope.” You gasp, your whimpering cries smothered by Megatron’s dermas in yet another bruising, brusque kiss. This time, he lingers, slows down as if he savors the taste of you on his glossa. Your servos grip his shoulders, smoothing along his breadth before your pointed digits grip at the armor panels high on his back. Megatron responds most enjoyably, using one servo to anchor himself above you and the other to caress down your body.

His servo travels from the curve of your waist, talons scratching at your paint, down to the slope of your hip where it rests heavy and warm on the junction of your thigh. He teases the sharp point of his thumb digit on the transformation seam nearest your interface panels, causing you to arch your back struts like a cat. Megatron uses this opportunity to settle a servo on the low of your back struts, where he pinches at the sensitive nodes at the bases of your wings. That makes you cry out, your cooling fans whirring loudly as a charge builds up deep inside you. 

You’ve never been this close to an overload so quickly before, though you’ve had many sleepless nights built up to bring you to this moment. And Megatron proves his expertise in the berth, past rumors and gossip proven to hold more truth than you once thought. 

Your entire frame feels electrified, your lower body feels like it’s on fire, the heat centered gloriously on your interfacing parts. Particularly your valve and anterior node, which feel wet and pulse beneath the panel with each of your sparkbeats.

“You react so gratifyingly.” Megatron purrs, his gravelly drawl like fine high grade on the audials, uncharacteristically sweet and sensual. He glances down at your interface panels, where your glowing transfluid is beginning to seep out along the seams. With a devious grin, Megatron meets your gaze just as he presses his thumb digit to your overheated panel.

“Megatron!” You cry his name, forsaking honorifics, and nearly overloading on the spot. Almost unconsciously, you send a command and your valve panel slides open, revealing your weeping slit and throbbing anterior node. You cry out again when Megatron wastes no time and starts tight, small circles on the sensitive bundle of mesh wire and circuitry.

“Beautiful.” He hums, quickening his pace on your anterior node as he notices sparks fly as your charge builds. You grip his back, claws digging at his silver armor and leaving scratches in his already worn paint. Megatron leans in, steals your dermas in a kiss, keeps circling your wet node, and just as you see warnings for an imminent overload— He stops.

The charge doesn’t die, but it decreases to a staticky tingle, and you part from the kiss, scandalized that he’s prevented your overload. You gape at Megatron, giving him a glare that could rival the World Destroyer’s himself. He only offers you a sly look.

“My liege.” This time you growl the title past grit denta, bucking your hips against your Master’s still servo. He hums, your anger meaning nothing to him, though indulging you by brushing two digits along the transfluid-soaked mesh of your valve. You gasp, optics blowing wide as he pushes them in, mindful of his sharp claws, stretching you wonderfully.

There’s a slight burn at first, pain sensors sending alerts, alleviated as your frame adjusts to accommodate his thick talons. Megatron eases his digits back until they are almost out completely, then sinks them back in. Your knees come up, peds shaking as you hook them behind his back struts.

“Patience, my dear,” Megatron kisses your neck cables, “Is a virtue.”

And like he had your anterior node, he works your valve slowly, steadily building the charge that buzzes all the pleasure centers in your frame. Warnings for an overload screen your vision again, this time your optics flicker as it grows closer. Staccato vents escape your intake, fans skipping cycles and hitching, encouraging Megatron to go faster, digits plunging in and out of your valve with sopping, moist noises. The room smells like interface; the tinny tang of transfluid, the almost-burnt smell of metal-on-metal friction.

You moan, this time a long keen that crackles in your audials, and Megatron responds with the first pleasured sound you’ve heard from him: A low, throaty groan that he practically strangles in his intake like he doesn’t want it to escape.

“M-My liege, plea-please.” You whine, writhing, bucking your hips even as Megatron’s servo relinquishes your wings in order to still them. You sob, systems on the fritz as the charge crackles, your overload closing in due to Megatron’s working servo and digits. He laughs again, the breathy one that you adore, and surprisingly heeds your plea.

“I want you like this when you take my spike.” Megatron hisses, doubling his pace and making you scream. The wet squelch of your mesh grows louder, and with each thrust of his servo, his knuckle joint brushes your throbbing anterior node, whiting out your optics.

“I want you disheveled.” The tyrant presses close to you, tightening the cyclic thrusts of his digits, biting at the base of your neck cables. Your helm lolls to the side, voice crackling in constant whines as you squeeze your optics shut. He growls, sharp denta piercing an Energon line close to your shoulder armor, the pain mixing with pleasure and having you singing.

“I want you desperate.” Megatron snarls like an Earthen beast, the gruffness of his voice matching the hot stretch of your valve. Transfluid soaks the inner seams and mechanisms of your thighs, spilling onto your berth below. Megatron drags his dermas to yours, his glossa hot and heady as he shoves it in your mouth and dominates the kiss. You moan against him, gripping him tight and hearing the sound of metal screech as its torn.

The silver mech groans, low and rough, breaking the kiss and allowing his helm to fall besides yours. To the cables and wires of your neck, he leaves open-mouth kisses, condensation hot from his vents, then pulls himself up to your audials and whispers harshly:

“I want you as mine.”

The last word is punctuated by a hard push of his digits and his thumb squashing your anterior node, and your overload hits you like a system crash. You wail, wings fluttering and hitting the berth with metallic clangs as your body seizes, the charge overtaking your processors. Pleasure like molten lava consumes your frame, transfluid squirting out onto Megatron’s forearm like paint.

The overload lasts eons, like some supernova of a dying star. Your legs lock, armor plating shivering, wings hitched high and scraping against your berth.  Maybe this is what death is, you think illogically, Maybe I’ve joined with the Allspark.

“Beautiful.” Megatron breathes again, his optics glowing in awe, “Positively beautiful.”

It takes a click for your processor to compute what he said, then another for your optics to blink back on. Coolant tears leak out the corners, blurring your vision. Your mouth gapes, dermas damp with condensation, your cooling fans whirring in loud in your audials. The grip you have on Megatron loosens, servos slipping until they fall upon his shoulders.

The charge in your valve mesh and anterior node quivers and bounces, and you realize with a pleasant tremble that Megatron’s digits are still firmly inside you.

“Megatron.” You coo his name, “Megatron.”

He says yours back, like all you’ve done and are doing is exchanging designations in a routine meeting and it reminds you of a time when things were simpler between the two of you. It’s been eons since Megatron’s seen you the way his ruby red optics gaze upon you now, eons more since you’ve felt seen.

War has made you both volatile, too tough and too angry to do anything else but fight, and fight some more. But here, in the privacy of your berth, blanketed by the secrecy of darkness: War can’t touch you. Nothing can.

“How I have yearned for you...” Megatron cups your faceplates, his servo cool against your overheated frame. You smile, still hazy from your overload and the lingering sensation of his other servo very much connected carnally to you, feeling like you’ve overdone yourself on too much high grade. 

A switch flips inside you, the one that reminds you’re no fainting femme, but one that asks and will take regardless. You are a Seeker, after all— It’s in your code to want offspring.

“Give me a sparkling, my Lord.” Even though your voice wavers, it still sounds like an immutable command. The contemplative look on Megatron’s face morphs into the devilish one, and he snarls, removing his digits from your core. A thin line of gooey transfluid stretches between you and his servo, until Megatron brings it to his mouth and his glossa licks along the length of his digits. His optics narrow in as he hums.

“You presume you can command me.” And yet he obeys again, his interface panel unlatching with a hiss. His spike emerges, a long, thick one that fills in sections, ribbed along its length. Glowing transfluid oozes in droplets from its tip, rolling down the underside of his spike. Your jaw drops, both in want and slight alarm— Megatron is a large mech, you should have better anticipated a large spike.

“Know this, dearest: I will take you, ruin you, fill you up until my code takes.” Megatron promises, lining his bobbing spike up with your throbbing valve. He then grabs your hips, propping them up for a better angle. You quiver, writhing on your berth and bracing your servos on his forearms. His armor is hot under your touch, and your claws dig into the smooth of his paint. Then you match his stare, licking your dermas.

“Frag me like you mean it.”

Megatron suddenly thrusts his spike into you and you wail, unforgiving of your smaller stature. The delicate mesh and sensitive wires give and mold around the hot rod of his pulsing length, forming a slick suction around your lover. He groans, easing back then thrusting in with earnest. Your thighs tremble as you take him, each rimmed circlet of his spike passing into you, dragging deliciously on your valve’s walls.

It’s a tight fight, even with being loosened by Megatron’s thick digits. The transformation seams on your hips and thighs stretch, soft whirs and clicks as your frame adjusts to take him. He’s the biggest you’ve ever had, and the strongest too. The power in his hips drives you up the berth, and he pulls you back down.

You can’t meet his thrusts, but you try and buck your hips in time with him, erratic at first. Megatron’s servos are locked on you, guiding you when your movements skip or miss. All the pleasure centers in your frame are alight, charges sparking and fritzing along your circuitry. Another overload builds, a hot, deep bubbling in your core.

With each thrust of his spike, your valve squelches, the mesh slick and hot with transfluid. More drips down your legs, your aft, onto the berth, leaving everything tacky. Megatron hits a particularly sensitive node deep inside you, one you didn’t even know was there, and you keen. Coolant tears prick at your vision again, escaping the corners and rolling off your faceplates. 

“How badly do you want it?” Megatron seethes, and you could mistake his lust for anger. He seizes your neck cables, dangerous talons threatening Energon lines, as he demands, “How badly do you want me?”

“Desperately.” You wheeze, optics whiting out as Megatron squeezes your neck cables just so as he gives you a series of particularly rough thrusts. Your peds tighten on his back, urging him deeper. Your Master vents, harsh and hot, his engine rumbling loud in his chassis.

“You will look...” Megatron chokes on a groan,”... Excellent with a trine at your hip.”

That makes you whine, Seeker coding squealing and preening at the thought. A trine. Three little sparklings just like their carrier. You’d delight in carrying them in your gestation chamber, wanting to see yourself change and swell to accommodate them.

“I want... I want,” Your voice cuts out, broken by a sob, and you can only manage a tight, “I want that!”

“Good.” Megatron pistons his hips like a jackhammer, his rhythm not breaking once. Powerful thrusts meet the wet heat of your core, the tops of his thigh armor clanking loudly against your legs. The overload warnings start appearing once again. Megatron hisses when your valve tightens around his length, and it prompts him to pick up the pace.

“You are so pretty.” He growls, leaning in to recapture your dermas with his. As he kisses, he doubles his speed and the strength behind it. You moan and sob into his mouth, servos gripping him by the back of the helm. His glossa battles with yours, his sharp denta nicking you more than once. Then he switches to kissing you deeply, soulfully, like he’s found salvation in your dermas.

It’s as you’re so viscerally connected to Megatron that the heat in your core reaches a boiling point, the slow-building electricity coming to its peak. Your valve walls spasm, the giving mesh convulsing in the telltale sign of your overload on the horizon.

Somehow accomplishing it, Megatron kisses you deeper, his faceplates flush and hot against yours. A particularly hard grind of his spike on the sensitive nodes of your valve has you gasping into the silver mech’s mouth. Your optics squeeze shut, you feel like your core is about to explode with heat—

Your second overload hits, just as spectacular and wonderful as the first. Electrified charges bounce between the mesh of your valve and Megatron’s throbbing spike, transfluid soaking him and yourself once again. It’s only after your audials tingle that you realize you’ve screamed loudly enough to reset them. Your systems crash, processors overheated and cooling fans hitching and trembling. With a hiss and a long grunt, Megatron follows you over the edge as well.

Warmth blooms in your core, pleasure nodes and receptors picking up the hot liquid feel of Megatron’s transfluid deep inside you. It comes out in spurts, and he rides his overload by continuing to push into you. As your optics come back online, you catch him hunching over you, ceasing his thrusts in favor of pressing as close as he can, spike still weeping transfluid and coating your inside walls.

Megatron hisses and groans, his frame shivering just once as he finishes, lazily bucking his hips thrice to empty himself completely. He doesn’t disengage his spike, leaving it to soften in your overworked valve. You can’t feel your peds, not after the overload you just experienced, and your entire frame shudders when he nips at your neck cables once again.

For a while, he hovers above you, his EM field embracing your frame. Softly, your servos caress his upper back struts, the tips of your digits dancing along his seams. His servos finally release your hips, revealing he’s left shallow dents in your armor. No matter, you’d wear them proudly. 

“Do you have fiber cloths in your refresher?” Megatron asks, breaking the comfortable silence, his vocal processor crackling only slightly. A twitch of the helm is the best “Yes” you can offer, and brutally Megatron parts from you, drawing a soft whimper as his spike and warmth leave you. The thought of sliding your interface panel back on crosses your mind, but your anterior node and valve are still throbbing so tenderly you can’t will yourself to do it.

You hadn’t realized you closed your optics until Megatron’s approaching pedsteps makes you open them again. He stands before your sprawled, ruined frame, a sheer fiber cloth in his servo, reaching to clean you. Silently, he wipes up the glowing transfluid that’s stained your berth, then moves to clean what’s left on your body.

For a long few moments, the sounds of your cooling fans cycling down, wings softly scraping on your berth, and Megatron’s movements fill your habsuite. At some point, you hear the distinct click of Megatron’s interface panel closing and you tilt your helm up to see him putting his spike away. Also distinctly, the slight burn of soreness as Megatron wipes your exposed valve of excess transfluid.

You’d need to wash regardless, but it’s the thought that counts.

“That was...” And you have no words. Your voice sounds distant and far away, like you’re listening to yourself whisper from miles away. Megatron hums to fill your silence, then you hear the muffled sound of the cloth being discarded somewhere in your room.

“May I join you for the night?” Your Lord’s question is far more polite than it needs to be, considering the circumstances, but it’s 

“Of course.” Your answer is quick and sure, marked by the tremendous effort you put in to roll onto your side, even though you still can’t quite feel your legs. You watch Megatron around your berth and sit at your side. He stretches, silver armor plates shifting and whirring back into place, the length of his back struts revealing his hidden Energon lines.

Then he swings his peds up and lays beside you like it’s the most normal action he’s ever done. Though you do have to scoot over until your wings stick out past the edge.

“I would like for this to be a repeated venture,” Megatron teases after he settles himself, “And if you will accept, for this to be continued past a successful newspark creation.”

He glances at you out the corner of his optic, its glow dimmed. You smile.

He’s never been one for grand romantic gestures, never one to speak about softer, kinder things like “love” or “sparkbonding”. It’s unbecoming of him, the Leader of the Decepticons, former gladiator of Kaon, dark Lord and powerful Master. You don’t know if he’d ever pose the actual question, or if it will remain as nebulous, vague riddles and coded phrases for you to decipher and analyze. It isn’t in Lord Megatron’s making to be tender— At least not in the explicit regards.

“I want nothing less for the sire of my offspring.” You reply, your frame curling around the curve of his chassis, servo finding the same spot it always had: Right above his insignia, above his spark. His engine rumbles evenly, the steady drumming could bring you to power down, though you’re kept awake by the pleasant ache between your legs, the chill of the Nemesis, and the pride in bearing your Lord an heir. 

~ * ~ * ~

epilogue

Your berth is too small, much too small, for two Cybertronians attempting to recharge upon it. Megatron keeps an arm wrapped under and around you to prevent you from falling off, your frame halfway atop his. One of your servos rests under your helm, the other lazily traces invisible shapes on his broad chassis. Both of your EM fields mingle, the waves pulsing to each other in rhythm.

Earthen hours have passed since your coupling, and though you’re tired, you find yourself unable to slip into recharge.

“My Lord?” You catch his attention, Megatron optics flickering back as he pulls himself from the onset of recharge. Part of you regrets keeping him awake— Primus only knows how many sleepless nights your leader subjects himself to— and the other part of you quietly marvels at how he was nearly dozing in your arms. What show of trust is as great as that?

“If I am to carry, this means the Decepticon cause loses one of its strongest warriors—” You sigh happily as the warlord shifts so that his servo rubs your wings, tenderly caressing sensitive transformation seams and Energon lines. What more you wanted to say dies on your glossa, too caught up in the tender display of affection your Lord gives you.

“A temporary hindrance.” Megatron rumbles, shuttering his optics once again and stating, “The Decepticons will prevail.”

It falls quiet, fully so for a handful of clicks until you pipe up again.

“... And, we will need protoforms. And transitionary metals and alloys. And start the process of distilling Energon into low-grade, sparkling-safe—”

Megatron silences you with a deep kiss, one that has you purring in delight and cupping his faceplates. He lingers on your dermas for a few beats, his EM field heavy and warm on yours, lulling you closer to recharge. Megatron parts, settling down on his back struts, his frame creaking and hissing air as he relaxes. Then he sighs:

“We will discuss technicalities in the morning.”

[cyberluvzu]

I don't know if you will want to do it, but can you make headcanons of Ben Drowned? (The fanon version of him, not the canon where he is a child 💀)

I've been seeing some of your headcanons and I loved how you write !! (This is my first request, I don't even know if I'm doing it right ✋😭)

That's it have a great day <3

BEN DROWNED HEADCANONS

AJJGSKSHSK THANK YOU SM ILY. ALSO I ABSOLUTELY LOVE BEN SMSMSMSMMS. You're literally so nice I'm sobbing. I ALSO WASN'T SURE IF YOU MEANT GENERAL OR ROMANTIC HEADCANONS. YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY TOO :3 <3!!!!!! MWAH MWAH MWAHHHHHH!!!!

(I also had to edit this while it was posted bc I accidentally clicked post 😭😭)

General Headcanons

- Pothead

- LMAO SORRY

- But he would probably smoke weed here and there

- Hungry when he's high

- I also like to think that he has longer hair, just long enough to be put in a pony tail

- He mostly keeps his hair up

- Would probably dress more comfy if he's just relaxing at home

- Video game shirts, basketball shorts, sweatpants, PJ pants

- If he has to like actually get dressed for any reason he would just wear something comfortable but not exactly pajamas

- More like baggy clothes, y'know?

- Buys dumb shit with his money

- "Oh look a bag of mini plastic ducks"

- "I NEED IT"

- Likes to hack games, but when other people do it he gets mad

- He takes it as a challenge and pops through that person's screen to absolutely terrify them

- He thinks it's hilarious

- Going off of that, he LOVES to scare people

- Specifically likes when people have over the top reactions to it because he thinks it's the funniest shit ever

- Would definitely watch those 2 hour long YouTube video essays on a topic he's never heard of

- Frequently falls down YouTube rabbit holes because of it too

- Also knows random facts about obscure topics because of that

- Takes GREAT care of his PC

- It's in absolutely top notch condition

- I like to think that he's not THAT messy like some people see him as

- More of a "I'll put everything in separate piles" messy

- Surprising clean-ish room

- Loves brain rot

- In like an ironic way though

Romantic

- Let's you play with his hair

- Loves the feeling of your nails scratching his scalp

- Gives you dumb pet names

- Will absolutely call you the most cheesy, diabolical pet name and act like it's normal

- LOVESSS taking naps with you

- Like genuinely adores it

- Also really likes nose kisses

- You kiss him on the nose

- He's all yours

- ALSOOOO WOULD DEFINITELY WAKE YOU UP TO PLAY GAMES WITH YOU

- "Babe can we play Minecraft"

- "It's 3am, Ben"

- He loves you and wants to play with you

- He would definitely do most of the hard work (cheat)

- Makes sure you have the best items in games

- Loves when you wrap around him

- Big fan of hugs, especially yours

- He loves how you feel and smell

- NOT IN A WEIRD WAY 😭

- He just really likes you

- Will absolutely flirt with you in the stupidest ways possible

- Tries to pay attention to you, but if he's distracted by a game, you'll lose his full attention for a couple of hours

- He will eventually remember that he has a partner and will go bother you

- HE LOVESSS TO ANNOY YOU

- Will poke you when he wants attention or needs something from you

- Has a shit eating grin on his face the whole time

- If you get upset at him he'll fake being overdramatically upset just to make you laugh

- Loves seeing you giggle, laugh, or smile

- He would definitely let you borrow his clothes

- He thinks you're the cutest thing ever in his clothes

- Looks forward to getting into bed with you and talking about a new game he started, his day, or just about anything

- He's sweet, but can also be a complete dick

- IN LIKE A JOKING WAY

- He wouldn't really be mean to you

- Just annoying

- He's secretly hoping you kiss him to shut him up

- Would buy you and him matching jewelry

- Your name in his phone would probably be "player 1"

- Or something cheesy like that

- He loves being cringey and cheesy with you

- He's just really comfortable around you and loves you

- Sometimes he might not know how to express it because of how extreme it feels

- But he does get the point across eventually

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

HELLO!!! So basically I didn't proof read this for shit 😭. BUTTTTT that's bc I accidentally hit post when I wasn't ready. BUT I HOPED Y'ALL ENJOYED, SORRY I HAVEN'T BEEN POSTING AS MUCH!!!!! MWAHHHHH!!!!

[johnslittlespoon]

dog-coded Bucky has ruined me and my poor little brain, you’ve caused it to rot and this is the only thing i have been thinking of for days!!

i saw your post about the different tropes and have a few ideas you might like:

• fear of the vets — i’d imagine that Bucky avoids going to medical at all costs and it would take either Buck or Curt dragging him in for him to actually get medical attention, he’s not happy about it though

• rumbling / playful growling — looks aggressive but it’s completely playful, a lot of the guys could a bit hesitant when he gets like that but quickly realise Bucky is just messing around

• leaning on someone with his full bodyweight — my dog does this all the time and i could imagine Bucky just letting all his weight fall on whoever’s closest; maybe the rest of the 100th learn to always have your feet planted after too one too many falls

• chasing his tail — i think that Bucky tries to live life to the fullest and often that means overindulging in certain vices, but the chasing tail metaphor is more like participating in the simple joys, doing something stupid just because you can

• trigger words — instead of treat or walk, as soon as someone even whispers the word bet Bucky is bounding over

• no social awareness — it’s so clear that Bucky is a social creature, but i feel like he would just go up to anyone and act as if they’re old friends, arms thrown over shoulders and wide smiles; does it make Buck jealous… 👀

• instinct — sort of following on from the above, there are some people that Bucky just avoids as he’s got a bad feeling, you know how some say that dogs always know what type of person someone is

i definitely have more ideas floating around, but these are the main ones at the moment. i loved the first chapter and got so excited when i saw it posted!!

RESPECTFULLY I SMOOCH YOUR FOREHEAD. WOWOWWWWW

the way the live wires in my brain lit tf up at these oh you're a saint. i am SO sorry for the transferred brainrot but omg THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO WRITE THIS OUT?! i'm nearly in tears at some of them i am so soft for him someone needs to come put me out of my misery pretty please

saving all of these and absolutely trying to squeeze some in <3 esp the no social awareness one bc i do have a little jealous buck scene planned out for chapter three teehee

thank u again legend i am about to post a little snippet as an offering of gratitude SDGJKDSK <3

[hadischara]

Lyney brain rot!

What if... Lyney and Lynette find out they're related to Diona.

Lyney: (Gasps) Wdym we have family in Mondstadt?

Omg! I love that.

I can see them packing up and leaving at ONCE. (With permission)

No, Freminette comes with them.

How they desperately waited for an ok to go to Mond, they sent a letter 2 hours ago and were already impatient.

"How long do we have to wait?!" Poor Fremi has to listen to that. For the whole time no permission arrived.

When they got there they did this.

They asked locals for the girl,and found out she was working right now.

Let me tell you, they went to the Cats tail at once and asked the man behind the counter for a little girl with cat ears and tail.

"You mean Diona right? She teaches someone TCG right now. What drinks would you three like?"

"Uhmmm, no thanks. We are here for Diona, not a drink. But thank you very much good sir. "

They waited only half an hour, but Lynette already got into a fight with nearly all of the cats.

Diona doesn't like them at first, and thinks they are 100% lying to her.

Well, no. She was allowed to look into every document, file and everything. She even asked Jean!

Only for her to get that Jean wrote the letter to the twins.

Bonding time with the cat girls.

When Diona got comfortable with them then she'll non stop talk, or have a comforting silence.

Cuddle pile.

And Fremi finally had someone that is interested in his diving.

It were the kids from Mond, like Klee, Diona and so on.

"Wait, so you dive really that deep!? Klee wants to dive too some time! " "Well, I'm sure someday or so I could either take you or you'll come to Fontaine. "

Fremi is good with kids, change my mind.

Lynette and Diona were best friends in less than 1 day, and Lyney shows her tricks with the bow.

They now decided to be pen pals and write each other a lot. They would visit each other once every 4 Months bc. Lynette and Lyney still have to do shows and that.

But they have the best time altogether.

[grandlinedreams]

Country boy Ace and his ranch hand girl, that’s all

Anon why did you come into my house (my brain) and steal from me (my thoughts) bc have some rot perhaps i'll continue ㅡ

"Whatcha up to, sugar?"

You know who it is even before his shadow falls over you, warm palm to your back and drawn out drawl too familiar as you turn to lock eyes with Ace. He has a piece of hay sticking from his lips, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes as you pluck it from his lips.

"Wouldn't you like to know," you tease and he scoffs, dark eyes flicking from your face to the saddle you've been fussing with for the greater part of the last hour.

"You know what they say, don't you?" He gestures at the saddle, then to the handful of horses out in the pasture, grazing in the afternoon sun, tails swishing lazily.

Ace backs you against the fence, creak of wood against your back. He smells of saddle oil and grain, and you catch a glimpse of a stray piece of hay in his hair ㅡ no doubt he'd been napping in the feed storage again.

"No," you say softly, "enlighten me."

Ace smirks, eyes gleaming as he leans in further, lips grazing yours. "Save a horse, ride a cowboy."

[nyaagolor]

IS THERE A SECOND TAIL CONCERTO GAME???? I NEED TO KNOW IF THE CAT/DOG ETHNOSTATE IS EVER RESOLVED OR ELABORATED ON????

Yes but also no?? Tail concerto is the first game in a series called Little Tail Bronx, but the plots are unconnected— they just take place in the same universe kinda like Pokemon. The other games are Solatorobo, which I will also liveblog, and Fuga (which is part of a trilogy— only Fuga 1 and 2 are out rn).

Solatorobo takes place in another country where racism against cats isn’t rlly a thing and Fuga takes place 1000 years in the past, so the other games unfortunately don’t address the ethnostate and all the other stuff in the TC plot. Fuga does have racism on account of being furry WWII, but still, different thing. There IS a short light novel about the epilogue where Alicia becomes a cop, but that hurts my feelings bc She Would Not Fucking Do That.

Dw though bc me and my friend Paul (the person who convinced me to finally play this) have been having some in depth discussions about the race relations of prairie so I will 100% be brain rotting about it for ages. Sorry in advance

[quinloki]

omg this has been rotting in my brain ALL DAY BUT

on the one piece wiki it says marco's hobby is collecting bar coasters

firstly, cute, secondly omg he's such an old person at heart bc that's what all the older peeps did at the bar I worked at

thirdly i'm dying bc a lot of times I picture my 'self insert/oc' as a bartender (idk why that job, I worked in a sports bar for awhile so I guess it's just what I know??) and i'm like omg that gives me so many ideasssss

anyways I know you read the wikis for characters so you might've seen that but it's just so random. going to bars with him just to collect the cute coasters >w<

It would certainly make for a cute vacation date kind of deal. Heading out to hit up some islands in the West Blue or whatever, and in every pub and bar you take a couple coasters, always leaving a few extra berri behind.

Marco always painted something on them, on the back if it was blank, or the side rim if it wasn't. The name of the bar, and/or island, and the date. It was just to make sure he didn't forget, for better or worse, whatever happened there.

I think another reason he collects them is because of how compactly they can be collected. Coasters stack, so the collection never takes up much room. It's effective and efficient. Almost subtle too, woven in with the other pieces and parts of his life that are woven into his room on a ship that's been his home for 30+ years.

Some nights, leaning against him after dinner, watching the sun slowly set, you'll find a coaster and read off the island and bar and ask him what happened there. Sometimes it's a somber tale, most of the time though it's a story that puts life and light in his voice, tears pricking at his eyes as he laughs about whatever happened.

He doesn't talk about himself much, but you still learn about him every time you ask. Through the memories of those who were close to him. Eventually there are coasters that become important to you - memories that comfort him, expressions that warm your heart to see.

Marco notices when you tuck them away, not to hide them, but to keep them from being accidentally damaged. You don't want the coasters or the memories buried in them to fade, and eventually you create a custom case, toiling away in the hours that Marco's out being a doctor.

You carve, or stain, designs on the box. Izou's tattoo, the shape of Thatch's cooking, Ace's hat, Pops' naginata. Woven through the markers of friends lost you add Marco. His mark. His flames. His tail feathers, chaining through it, connecting them all.

You add other details. A straw hat, the shape of Deuce's mask, other marks and shapes of comrades not lost, but still remembered. Hopes and protection for them, etched into the memories of everything else.

Nothing's said when you're done. You set the case up in the common room and slide coasters into it. You leave the ones the two of you have collected out and around the house, but now the older ones are tucked away safely, and still visible.

At some point Marco adds to it, but you don't know exactly when. On the edges of the box is a carefully painted label, with the date you had given him the case, the name of the island you were on, and a second date at the end of it.

The first day he'd seen you.

[inkquillery]

For the Fanfic Ask game:

23 and 40

hey, thanks for the ask, friend!! 🤗

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

whoooo boy, you broke a dam asking this! im so excited to answer :D

a deaf!lin beifong au for avatar: the last airbender/legend of korra is at the very top of my list, it’s been rotting my brain for the past month. i am so in love with the beifong family, but lin and toph in particular are my favourites. it would just be so interesting to see how they navigate communication since they can’t exactly use sign language or writing. and i mean, the amount of flangst! (also i personally have such a fascination and interest in sign language for like, no reason at all lol, i even started self-learning recently for funsies (it’s ridiculously hard to find free online resources for auslan compared to asl)) <- this might also apply to question 17 but oh well :3

and and and an au for agents of shield where an alternate variant of skye (known as daisy) escapes into the canon universe sometime after the events of afterlife due to kang the conqueror destroying her own. she trains skye in her powers, we have some lovely maydaisy angst for both universes, and some character death :3

also ghost!lucy for fairy tail where lucy sacrificed herself in the final battle and became lumen histoire, but sticks around as a sort of spirit to help her friends move on bc i’m all about that angst <33

another one is for demon slayer, where a young tanjirō keeps inexplicably skipping through time, non-linearly and uncontrollably, but he always ends up near giyū (and through a series of confusing events and time-wimey misunderstandings, all the hashira believe tanjirō is giyū’s secret little brother ;))

and i could go on all day but no one has time for that so i’mma stop there lol—

(but feel free to ask more about these aus if you want!!)

40. Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

oof, it really depends on the fic. i do tend to re-read oneshots, and occasionally longfics if i have the time/when the premise suddenly returns to me and i have this primal urge to reread the whole thing lol. or sometimes i just remember a moment that really stuck out to me and i ctrl + f for it lol.

tldr: yes i do tend to reread fics

thanks for playing! i had a lot of fun ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

[biting-miguel-ohara]

this isnt really a request just thoughts cause im also obsessed with dog/wolf hybrid mutant reader fics and youve just got me thinking about hybrid!mutant!reader x logan and now all i can think about is him tugging your tail to get your attention and you hating it. or him scratching behind your ears or under your chin and you loving it. you trying to act annoyed at something he did but your tail failing you and wagging at him anyways or logan putting you on a leash in bed. many thoughts are forming in my head i just had to share. im having wolf/dog hybrid x logan brain rot.

AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!! Omg yes!

Please please please (you can totally say no though) let me write a few of these up into short fics! I’m getting ✨ideas✨

Especially about the leash one and the acting annoyed one. Like, omg

Like I said though, you can totally say no if you just wanna keep these as thoughts. Please send in another ask or whatever to let me know bc I really would like to use these as fic inspiration

(Also I feel you about the brain rot lol. I’m being consumed by hybrid!Reader thoughts)

[ask-steven-stevenson]

a boy would stumble in. he was bony and short, with ashy dark skin and freckles. there were patches of green almost scar-shaped on his hands. his eyes were wide and a bright, mad blue, and he had large eyebags. he wore a cyan jumper that had a large bloodstain near the chest and dark blue baggy pants. he had a double-tipped black tail alongside two ram-like horns. he wore a dog-like cage muzzle and stared at the two blankly.

" . . . "

- ?

[ I APOLOGISE IF HE SOUNDS REALLY WEIRD..HE IS. HES ONLY 4'6 FYI, THATS WHAT I MEAN BY HIM BEING SHORT. anyways, hope steven and jake have fun with the demon!! hes ashy cause hes dead by the way...hence..demon.. thats also why he has green its rot.. whatever youll find it all out. also that muzzle IS because he bites! hey, atleast someone restricted him ]

[ hes nicer than he looks..i swear...]

[ if you feed him that is ]

[ i apologise that this is so long i like writing ]

[DONT SWEAT IT AB IT BEING LONG !! I usually write shorter ones.,. At the start bc my brain is mush… cant write but!! Id long response.. but my brain can’t type/write well.]

{!! As the shorter face walked into the building, or well, moreso, stumbled into the building, the two took a second to process what was happening. They took a second to look at each other before, of course, looking back at the new customer or, well, person.? They weren't sure what words to put on what they saw. Though the concern grew to a new level when one of them saw the bloodstain, mentioning it would make everything feel strange, They kept their eyes closed. Or, well, optical sensors. After a few minutes, one of them finally spoke up!}

"I... are you alright? I mean! Concerning the blood and such?"

{To be fair, Steven didn't really know what to say or do in such a situation. However, he did slightly keep closer to Jake.}

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 4/11/2023

more concise than usual. don't get used to it.

listening

the trombone is an underutilized instrument in indie rock. this is a delightful music video, the vocals bother me a lot less now that i know they're deliberately going for a robotic effect.

if you liked the Killing Eve soundtrack (largely brought to you by Unloved and Junoire), that sort of very smooth lightly psych-rock flavored thinking woman's music to smoke clove cigarettes to while slouching around used bookstores, you may like this song! reading this back it sounds kind of snotty but sometimes you need a french woman main character song to make doing errands feel like being on a secret mission

i found one of their previous albums, Psycho Tropical Berlin, sort of a one-hit wonder with Hypsoline (the credits song for As Above So Below) but it really is a fucking banger

i want the album art as a shirt So Bad but not enough to pay $25 shipping from france about it.

i think this was off the spotify weekly discover playlist? can't imagine where else i would have run across it

-

reading

remember the vampire-adjacent private detective novels i was reading? not the ones from last week, the earlier ones. the author alexis hall chucks you a free short story Sand and Ruin and Gold if u sign up for his mailing list.

i think the orca comparisons are a touch heavy-handed at times, but the imagery in this thing...i really am a sucker for the rot of a coastal tourist trap. i bear no fondness, but i do give them a weary nod of acknowledgement. this town is a construct for other people to enjoy. i typed out a very long thing about how the economics of tourism shaped the town and everything about the civic calendar down to the school year, but--it was not really meant to have real residents or be a real place. there was absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to hang out without paying for anything in the off season.

It was just after closing on Reunification Day, the last of the stragglers gathered up and banished back to their world. A spiral of faded, plastic bunting from the celebrations had blown into one of the pools. I went to get a pole to hook it out but heard a splash and turned in time to see Nerites leap from the water in a gleam of skin and scales. The wind whisked the ribbon from between his fingers, and he reached after it, his body twisting sinuously in the air before he crashed into the pool again.

I’d never seen him—or any of them—move like that before. The jumps and slides we taught them were supposed to mimic their natural behaviours, but they rarely performed them spontaneously. And this was something else again: a wild leap and an ungainly splash, more beautiful to me than the most perfect bow or spin because it seemed so absolutely heedless.

He surfaced again, almost vertical, spinning in the pale-grey spray, one hand catching for the bunting’s tail. A tug, and it tumbled from the sky, nothing but a lifeless piece of string.

i am beginning to remember that all the shit that really sticks in my brain is in short stories and novellas you (general, including me) have never heard of.

-

watching

star wars resistance. i am finding this far more enjoyable than the bad batch or the mandalorian bc it has something of a storyline that it sticks to, even though most of the runtime is a teen... he's not really a teen, he was a new republic pilot so he's probably like twenty but in my heart he's like fifteen. part of the appeal of ds9 for me was a very consolidated set of recurring background characters and getting to see that there are other things/factions/people all working for their own ends. baby's first practice spy mission.

the ship design is really killer: it asks and answers the question "what if a pirate spaceship was also a galleon?"

i find myself excited to watch the next episode, which is not a familiar feeling when i watch star wars stuff. i really hope s2 holds my interest as much as s1 did.

why am i doing this? i have seen all the star wars except for: most of the LEGO stuff, most of the addendum and errata for tcw (including the crystal crisis arc), the holiday special, and most of the droids and ewoks animated shows. like i am Really scraping the bottom of the barrel here, even though i'm not really sure why this show fell into such obscurity.

-

playing

a bit cranky with weird west, bc i think to get past this stealth level i will have to dismiss my companion (can't seem to knock out guards unless i'm standing up, the companion AI has a very loose definition of "staying close" and is only "invisible" if you're also crouching, and you can't direct your companion to stay put in one place OR to stay close/stay crouched permanently. i may have exhausted most of the appeal of the world on my first fifteen-hour run through the first story. i am more than a little disappointed bc i did have a fuckton of fun in those fifteen hours and was expecting the good times to continue.

-

making

still halfheartedly poking away at the baby blanket, less than half a repeat this week and i don't feel like getting up, digging the blanket out of the catproof bag, and putting enough lights on for a real photo. this is repeat 7/10 tho so we are slowly approaching the end