#derma space

[hairnskintips]

What is Laser Tattoo Removal and Why Derma Space is the Best Place for It in Pune

Understanding Laser Tattoo Removal

Tattoo removal has come a long way from the days of painful, ineffective methods that often left scars. Today, laser tattoo removal stands as the most advanced and effective way to erase unwanted ink. Here’s everything you need to know about this modern technique.

How Laser Tattoo Removal Works

Laser tattoo removal utilizes high-intensity light beams to break down the pigment colors in the tattoo. Here’s a step-by-step breakdown of the process:

Consultation: A thorough consultation is conducted to assess the tattoo and skin type, ensuring the appropriate laser technology is used.

Laser Application: During the procedure, the laser is applied to the tattooed area. The light pulses pass through the skin and are absorbed by the tattoo ink.

Ink Fragmentation: The laser energy causes the tattoo ink to fragment into tiny particles.

Natural Elimination: The body’s immune system then gradually removes these fragmented ink particles, causing the tattoo to fade over time.

Types of Lasers Used

Different types of lasers are used based on the color of the tattoo ink:

Q-switched NdLasers: Effective for darker colors like black and blue.

Q-switched Alexandrite Lasers: Used for green and blue inks.

Q-switched Ruby Lasers: Best for treating green, blue, and black tattoos.

Number of Sessions Required

The number of sessions required for complete removal depends on various factors, including the tattoo’s size, color, age, and the patient’s skin type. On average, multiple sessions spaced several weeks apart are necessary to achieve optimal results.

Benefits of Laser Tattoo Removal

Non-Invasive: Laser tattoo removal is a non-invasive procedure that doesn’t damage the surrounding skin.

Minimal Scarring: When performed by experienced professionals, the risk of scarring is minimal.

Effective: Capable of removing a wide range of tattoo colors and sizes.

Quick Recovery: The procedure involves minimal downtime, allowing patients to resume normal activities soon after treatment.

Why Choose Derma Space for Laser Tattoo Removal in Pune

Derma Space in Pune is renowned for its exceptional laser tattoo removal services. Here’s why it stands out as the best place for this procedure:

1. Experienced Dermatologists

Derma Space boasts a team of highly experienced dermatologists who specialize in laser treatments. Their expertise ensures that each patient receives personalized care tailored to their unique needs.

2. Advanced Laser Technology

Derma Space utilizes the latest laser technology, ensuring effective and safe tattoo removal. Their state-of-the-art equipment can target various ink colors and skin types, providing superior results.

3. Personalized Treatment Plans

Understanding that every tattoo and skin type is different, Derma Space offers customized treatment plans. This personalized approach maximizes the effectiveness of each session and ensures patient satisfaction.

4. Comfort and Safety

Patient comfort and safety are top priorities at Derma Space. The clinic’s modern facilities and stringent hygiene standards create a safe and comfortable environment for all procedures.

5. Post-Treatment Care

Derma Space provides comprehensive post-treatment care instructions to promote optimal healing and minimize any potential side effects. Their team is always available to address any concerns or questions patients may have during the recovery process.

Conclusion

Laser tattoo removal is the most advanced and effective method for erasing unwanted tattoos. Derma Space in Pune offers unparalleled expertise, advanced technology, personalized care, and exceptional results. If you’re looking to remove a tattoo, Derma Space is the best place to achieve clear, beautiful skin once again.

Book a consultation with Derma Space today and take the first step towards a tattoo-free future!

[pinkanonwrites]

Always Tip Your Bartender

MTMTE Swerve/Human Reader, 2000 words, GN Reader, Valveplug, Oral, Begging

I finally stopped procrastinating on this and I'm so glad I did cause I really enjoy it. Here's Swerve getting his spike sucked AND his valve ate as a treat.

Primus, you were going to kill him. Or break up with him, which would pretty much accomplish the same thing cause Swerve didn't really know how he would live without you. 

Either way, he was dead. And he had no one to blame but himself.

The evening had been going so well. You'd always insisted how much you enjoyed watching him work, and he was more than happy to have you sitting at the edge of the bar, dangling your feet off the side and chatting with whatever bot occupied the nearest barstool as he flitted around taking orders and refilling drinks. Whenever he'd brush past you'd hit him with that brilliant smile, the one that made him go all weak in the processor and wobbly in the knee joints, before playfully waving him off, insisting he gets back to work. 

Was it incredibly distracting? Yes. 

Had he broken several glasses while admiring you? Also yes. 

Would he ever want you to stop? Not in a billion cycles.

But tonight had been particularly busy, and maybe Swerve hadn't been able to give you quite as much attention between orders as he usually had. A concept that had completely slipped his mind until the moment Whirl raised a single claw and pointed you out across the bar.

"Don't look now, Chatterbot. But I think Fizzle over there's making a move on your fleshy!"

Spinning on his heel, there was a tight clench in Swerve's tanks when his optics landed on you. Fizzle stood, drink in servo and elbow strut propped on the bar, leaning more than a little bit too close into your personal space. Every time you seemed to shuffle back he moved closer, and though Swerve wasn't the best at reading lips he could tell by the furrow for your brow and crinkle of your nose that you were not enjoying the conversation at hand. He tossed the tray he was holding onto Whirl's table and ducked through the crowd, dodging flailing elbows of dancing patrons as he hurried back to your side.

As he neared, the drone of chatter and thumping music gave away enough that he could finally begin to pick up snippets of your conversation.

"I mean, everybody's curious!" Fizzle slurred, identifiably sloshed just by the way he spoke. "Just cause you don't hear bots talking about it doesn't mean we're not all thinking it."

"Look, dude, I'm not really comfortable with you asking about-"

"So how's it work, huh? Barely the size of a mini-con and you can still get spiked down by one of us? Swerve's kinda puny, yeah, but he's like twice your size! Got a real greedy little valve, don't y-HGGK!?!"

The next thing Swerve knew, Fizzle was laid out flat on his back at the edge of the dance floor. It took the sudden, hushed stares of the surrounding patrons and the sting of his knuckles before Swerve realized that the one who had punched the words out of Fizzle's slimy, inconsiderate intake was him. 

"Swerve!"

Oh Primus. You did not sound happy.

"I was- he'd just-" He stammered, making aborted hand gestures in between you and himself and the 'not unconscious but fairly woozy' Fizzle. "I don't, uh, he uh, really shouldn't be talking like that."

You hopped down from the bar and stalked over to him, gripping the edge of his forearm plating with an unexpected force and tugging him in the direction of the storeroom. He could have resisted you, if he wanted to. But he let himself be led away instead, pedes scuffing and dermas trembling as you tugged him along. The rolling din of the bar began to pick up again as you moved away, and Swerve could swear he heard Whirl yell something sarcastically supportive over the rumble of the crowd. A sound that was quickly cut off with the resounding metal slam of the storage room door.

“Um… H-Hi, sweetspark. Angel. Light of my life.”

“Get down here.” You snapped your fingers, pointing to the ground. Swerve slowly took a knee.

“Look, about Fizzle. I’m sorry, okay! I know I shouldn’t have hit him like that, I just couldn’t let- MMPFH?!~”

But before he could finish his desperate apology your lips were meeting his own, fingertips gripping and caressing the sides of his helm and brushing a ticklish trail along his armor. Your tongue lathed across the seam of his dermas and he couldn't help but open his intake to you, servo falling instinctively into the curve of your spine as you deepened the kiss. He let out a low, needy rumble of his engine when you began to pull away and you chuckled.

“Whu… Whuh?” He managed to force out, his processor still halfway caught between the realization that you weren't actually mad at him.

“I can't believe you actually punched him. In the face. That was the hottest thing I've ever seen.”

“So you're not- mmfh,~” His train of thought was only slightly interrupted by you pressing another wet kiss to his dermas. “Not mad?”

“Why would I be mad? He deserved it. Plus, I got to see my big, strong bot standing up for my honor.~”

“Ohhhh, thank Primus.” Swerve slumped his helm into the crook of your neck and let out a relieved groan, half from his own emotions and half from the pleasant tickle of your little fingers toying with the exposed cabling just beneath his helm. You had put a foot up on the bend of his thigh in order to reach him properly, and his servo gave your butt a soft squeeze when it came up to support you. “Thought you were gonna tear into me back here, to be honest.”

“Aww, did I worry you?” You pressed another fluttering kiss to the curve of his jaw. “And here I was thinking I should be giving you a reward instead.” He shivered as your lips traced just below his audial. A familiar clang and a muffled curse reverberated from Swerve, the unmistakable sounds of his spike pressurizing behind its panels. “That sounds like a yes?”

“Hoo yeah. Absolutely. Yes please. Whatever you want, sweetspark.”

“Wanna say yes a few more times?” You joked, sliding from his grasp and sinking slowly to your knees in front of Swerve’s modesty panel. As your fingers traced over his Autobrand the panels snapped back with a snikt and his chubby spike pressurized eagerly into your hands.

“Do you need me to?” He babbled through a wobbly grin. “Cause I will! I'll say whatever you want me to say if it'll keep your hands on me.” 

“...Y’know what? Yeah. I like that. Keep talking for me, baby.”

“Y-Yeah? I can talk all da-AaAaaAayy!?” His words choked off into a glitchy, garbled mess as you teased the underside of his head with the tips of your fingers. “Oh, oh! Mmmhmm, ahh! That’s se-sensitive…”

“I know, baby.” You cooed. Your fingers traced the biolights up the length of his spike before smearing the bead of transfluid at the tip wetly across the head. Swerve’s panels rattled as he shuddered, digits clawing absentmindedly at the door he was braced against to keep his hands from gripping his own spike. “That’s what makes it good though, isn’t it?”

“Mmh! So mean,” A low curl of steam hissed between his dentae.

“You love it.~”

“M-Maybe… Hngh!~” He gasped as you pinched the head between two fingers. “Ah! Ah! O-Okay, I do! I like it! Please, just- Ohhhh…~” He trailed off into another garbled mess as your lips wrapped around the tip, teasing the slit with your tongue. You took as much of his spike into your mouth as you could, stroking the rest in a tight fist as you swallowed around the solid, unrelenting obtrusion. The sharp metallic screech of his fingers gripping the door was only drowned out by his whines and gasps, staticky glitches increasing which each bob of your head. Drool and pre-fluid trickled from the corners of your mouth and down his length, further slicking your hand. When you pulled away with a wet, shaky breath, Swerve thought his spark was going to pop out of his chassis right then and there, valve cycling desperately around nothing as you pressed a slick kiss to the underside of his spike head with a barely audible moan.

“Swerve.” You murmured, your eyes hooded and glossy, your lips still grazing his spike.

“Yes?” He responded, twice as desperate and equally as enamored.

“Spread your legs for me. Push your hips out a little more.”

He let out a low, whimpering groan, widening his stance and pushing his hips out from against the wall. You ducked your head further, keeping a tight hand around his spike as you dragged your tongue up the length of his valve. 

“Ohh!~ Oh, oh that’s- ahhhh, ah, ah!~” Swerve did his best to fight the urge to wriggle, stabilizers shivering with need as you buried your mouth in his plush folds. Each time your nose bumped against his anterior node he let out a hiccuping gasp, transfluid dribbling  from both his tip and his valve as his calipers cycled around your intruding tongue. “It's so soooft, y-your mouth, I can’t- MMH!~ Oh, oh, please I- please make me…”

“You wanna cum?” You murmured, lips still pressed to his valve as you furiously stroked his spike, the rhythmic shlick shlick shlick almost drowned out by Swerve’s whirring fans and desperate whines.

“Yes, yes yes please! P-please, I want it, I want- AHHH!~” His vocalizer pitched up into a staticky howl as you took his node between your lips and sucked, hard. He glitched and wailed, helm thunking back against the door as his spike pulsed again and again in your grip, thick waves of transfluid shooting over your head and splattering against the store room floor. His valve clenched rhythmically, more translucent, pinkish fluid spilling down your chin and neck in kind. Only when he stopped shivering beneath you and fell limply back against the door did you draw away, fighting the prideful smile that tried to crawl across your face at Swerve’s ragged venting and still-flickering visor. You rested your cheek against his plated thigh, stroking the other with the hand no longer cradling his flagging spike. His helm lolled forward a bit, clarity beginning to blink back into his optics as he gazed down at you. Suddenly he let out a sharp gasp, one servo flying to cup the back of your head, digits splayed and feeling around frantically. Then he let out a soft, relieved sigh, the desperate groping of his servo slowing into something absent-minded and soothing.

“Whew. I didn't get any in your hair.” A quiet chuckle slipped through his dermas as he twiddled a bit of your hair between two digits. 

“Got it a few other places though. Not that I'm complaining.” You made a show of wiping your fingers across your chin before drawing them into your mouth and lapping them free of his fluids. He shivered, a delicate blue glow rising to his face plate, split wide in a crooked smile.

“C-careful now, or you might get me all charged up again. Then we’ll be here all night.”

“You’re saying that like you think it'd be a bad thing.” You teased.

“It wouldn't, if I didn't have to get back to work soon…” Swerve trailed off, that gentle glow beginning to rise into a furious blush. “How, uh… How much of that do you think they could hear?”

Beyond the door you could just barely make out a congratulatory cheer in a voice that sounded just a little bit too close to Whirl’s. His celebration seemed to be working up the crowd, and soon a resounding cacophony was echoing through the storeroom door. Swerve’s free servo flew up to cover his face plate, helm clanking back against the door as he let out a humiliated groan.

“Oh Primus. I'm never gonna live this down.”

[tinydefector]

Hello tinydefector!!! I wanted to say that I admire your work, especially the book "Human's effects". So could you please add Skids and Rodimus to the continuation of the book, I would really like to see them. Thank you for your attention.

Chaos on board - Human effects

Rodimus

Human effects masterlist

Prev

Next

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: workplaces issues in space

__________

The Ambassador walks into the Ultra Magnus' office to see Megatron and Magnus both glaring at Rodimus and Daniel. "What have you two done this time? Did they go out asteroid surfing again? " They ask while making their way towards the table. As Megatron glared daggers across the table, Ultra Magnus heaved a long-suffering sigh at the newcomer's inquiry. "Worse than that, I'm afraid. It seems Rodimus and Daniel decided simulated space warfare was an... appropriate pastime." Magnus' field pulsed annoyance. 

Rodimus waved a dismissive hand, uncowed. "Aw, c'mon Mags! We were just having a little target practice in the hold, no harm done. How were we supposed to know the booster rockets were still online?"

Megatron growled deep in his intake. "You were supposed to conduct comprehensive safety checks on our cargo!." His field roiled with barely-leashed rage. 

Daniel scratched his head sheepishly. "He's, uh, not wrong. Things may have gotten a teensy bit out of hand" The ambassador pinched their brow ridge. "Let me guess. uncontrolled explosive devices in an enclosed space led to..."

"Minor structural damage and several singed circuits, yes," grated Magnus. 

A humourless smirk curled Megatron's dermas. "Appropriate punishment is in order, I believe." His tone left no doubt over the two delinquents. They were all just happy the third member of their party hadn't been present, less they all had to deal with Ratchet's wrath. 

Rodimus gulped. Daniel sank lower in his seat. The Ambassador groans in annoyance. "Daniel get back to the crew room. Your on restroom cleaning duties for the next Orn. And don't think complaining to David and Kyle is going to save you" they state. Daniel scurried from his seat, hands raised placatingly. "Yessir, right away sir! No complaining, got it." He backed towards the door, casting Rodimus an apologetic grimace. 

Rodimus merely flashed his signature cocky grin and finger-guns, to his friend. But Megatron's responding snarl and Magnus' deepening scowl boded ill for the speedster's fate. "Really, Rodimus, must you continue pursuing chaos and mayhem?" sighs their ambassador wearily. "One of these days your antics are going to get someone hurt, what were you thinking?"

"Are you questioning my leadership?" Rodimus shot back, before shrinking back into his seat as the other two mechs shoot him with a glare. Megatron loomed over the desk, a deep rumble echoes from his chassis as he does his best not to lose his temper at the prime. "Questioning implies there was leadership to begin with." He states it's not quite a sneer but his disappointment shows. 

Magnus nodded stiff agreement. "Reckless endangerment of crew and ship cannot be tolerated. You may be Co-captain of this vessel but the Ambassador and myself are responsible for the safety and security of all on board your vessel." Rodimus paled, grin faltering at the prospect of real punishment, Their optics held no mercy as sentencing began in earnest. Another incident to log in Rodimus' ever-growing file.

"Look Rodimus I don't really care what you do in your spare time but don't drag my crew into it. I'm responsible for each and every one of the humans on this ship. Do you realise how easily something could have gone wrong?" The Ambassador states while looking at the captain. Megatron growled irritably. "Spare us your coddling, Ambassador. Rodimus' 'antics' endanger us all. He's reckless, refuses to do his documentation, finds every opportunity to disappear from proper duties, Ultra Magnus and myself are the ones running the ship due to his inability to stick to a task."

Ultra Magnus nodded solemn agreement. "Recklessness cannot continue unpunished. I suggest confinement to quarters for the foreseeable future, with duties suspended."

But Rodimus' smile falls. "What! You can't just ground me. I'm not a fragging Sparkling! I said I was sorry, what more do you want?" He shouts out optics frantically looking between the three. Megatron's engine snarled. "Respect. Responsibility. Traits you've yet to demonstrate, Captain." He spat the title like an insult. 

"Enough!" The Liaison calls out loudly. "Rodimus you have been acting up recently, rather badly, why? It seems every time one of us turns our back you are sneaking off, tonight was my night off. I was having drinks with my crew and got called here because of this" they accuse, trying to find out what had Rodimus acting up. This wasn't  the first time either he had both Daniel and Traxies looped into his antics but so far been the most dangerous.

Rodimus shrank back slightly under the barrage, facade cracking. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Look, I know things have been... dicey lately. And yeah, maybe I've been pushing boundaries a bit more than usual? But I'm trying to enjoy myself, make others enjoy travelling with me. It's boring! I feel like I'm going nuts cooped up at a desk all cycle."

"So endangering lives is acceptable?" Megatron crossed his arms severely. 

“Have you any idea the amount of violations you have committed,  have you even read the list to your name?” Ultra Magnus grumbles, Rodimus looks at the table like a scolded child before the human sighs as they move closer. " Rodimus, can you actually read?" They ask, it was a slight hunch they had that he was acting up because of something with their reports and records. But he was showing signs similar to dyslexia and adhd. 

Rodimus stiffened. "What kind of insult is that?! Of course I can read - I'm the Prim- friggin' Captain, aren't I?!"

Megatron snorted slightly amused. "A fact that continues to astound and dismay in equal measure."

But the human ambassador remained focused on Rodimus. "Then perhaps the issue lies not in your duties, but how you process them. Reading reports and records can be tedious for some."

They pulled up a datapad, flipping through screens. "Let's test your comprehension. Can you summarise the contents of this supply requisition?"

Rodimus grimaces at the screen, he hates it. "Aw c'mon, do I have to? That stuff's so boring" 

Magnus rumbled a subtle warning but their ambassador kept Rodimus pinned with a stare. With a huff and whine from his engine, Rodimus gave in and began squinting at the pad. Silence fell as they watched him struggle to parse the words, tangling meanings and figures alike. 

"OK, so paperwork is hard for you, why haven't you brought this up to one of us?" They inquire this time not as annoyed. The move to sit down on the table near him. Rodimus shifted uncomfortable under the others' piercing stares. His plating flared in embarrassment as never before. "I didn't... it's not like..." He vented harshly, the truth forcing its way free at last. "Reading's always been hard, okay? The words jumble and my processors ache if I have to focus too long." 

He refused to meet their optics, ashamed to show such perceived weakness. "Why did you not come to us for aid?" Megatron asked, the anger in his voice had faded. "There is no shame in acknowledging limitations, Rodimus, but causing chaos over something that can simply be solved with changing who does the documentation."  

Rodimus' intake worked furiously. "Because... because I'm the Prime, the Captain! I'm supposed to have it all together, be the fearless leader. How can they follow me if they think I'm.. Everyone except me too know everything! I'm not Optimus. Im out here to not have to be in his shadow! ” he finally lets out before he sulks into his arms. 

The others go quiet as they watch the dishevelled speedster. 

"I'm willing to help you with taking inventory and trade bargains, but no more dragging Daniel or Traxies into your silly endeavours, understand?, are one of you able to help him with reports to cybertron and earth over different routes for trades and out travel logs" They inquire firstly to Rodimus and then to the other two mechs. 

He straightened with surprise. "You...you'd help me? Really?" His optics darted between the human and his Co-captain and enforcer. 

Magnus nodded. "Orders and logs require diligent documentation. Traversing trade routes necessitates mathematical prowess. I am equipped to handle them." 

Megatron gave the barest nod. "And I am...familiar with navigating bureaucracy. Of log reports and records" 

The meeting concludes after a while  the human stands there waiting for a moment. "Rodimus walk with me" they called out to the speedster waiting for him to begin walking beside them. Rodimus glanced up from shuffling pedes. "I...yeah. Yeah, okay." He nodded, falling into stride beside the human. His fields pulsed anxiety and gratitude in equal measure. 

Silence fell as they walked the halls, Rodimus casting furtive glances at them as they flick through the data padin hand. "You're not the first person I've worked with who has trouble reading or even understanding stuff" they remark as they begin heading to Swerve's. It takes Rodimus a little off guard that they were going to the bar. "Plus you owe me drinks after pulling me away from my night off" the human tease.

Rodimus perked up in surprise as they angled their path towards Swerve's bar. His cooling fans kicked on at the human's casual revelation and teasing quip. "Wait, seriously? There are others who struggle like me?" He asked slightly shocked. They hand the pad to Rodimus. “have a look at the screen and tell me if having a dark mood helps with being able to read stuff.” They tell him. He accepts the tablet as they walk into the bar. Optics flick to them watching like hawks as they find seats. 

“ it's easier to read some stuff still going to give My processors a short circuit tho” he grumbles slightly. They nod in understanding. “ we will working something out but that's for tomorrow” they hum as they both pull up to a table. Rodimus lifts them up to the bench where they fall into one of the human sided seats on the table. 

 "Look, about earlier - I really am sorry I dragged your crew into that mess. You deserve a break." Optics in the bar shoot to Rodimus and the Ambassador. All of them watched with vented breath after the earlier drinking session with the human's. Rodimus' plating twitched self-consciously under the weight of so many curious stares from within. But beside him, the human ambassador didn't seem fazed by the stares. 

Rodimus leaned in close. "Seems everyone's watching us. Primus, you'd think we spawned a sparkling the way they're gossiping!" He grumbles looking into the drink swerve slides in front of him before the mini bot disappears. The ambassador chuckled. "Don't mind them. Think everyone's letting the high grade and energex go to their head" the Ambassador states. "Plus my crew were here earlier having drinks and got a little out of hand, Nadia was talking about 'taking a mech for a ride' " they chuckled into their own drink.

Rodimus sputtered on his energon, cooling fans kicking into high gear at the risqué implications. His plating rippled in scandalised delight.  "Taking a mech for a ride, huh?!” His fans kicking on had made a few other mechs snicker from other tables. Across the bar, curious optics remained glued to their table, The speedster leaned on an elbow, optics filled with wonder.

"So which poor mech caught the little lady's optic?. " it was barely above a whisper. His engine rumbled warmly. “she had her eyes set on Swerve, I honestly think she was just trying to get free drinks" they call back in amusement.  But it makes Rodimus' processor go wild at the thought. The humans were just as interested in bedding a bot and the rest of the crew was with the humans. 

"Clever little thing, your Nadia! Far be it from me to judge creativity in scamming a drink or two." He mumbles, feeling the energex hitting him hard. He had suspected that Swerve must have given him a triple boost. 

So many of the other bots in the bar are still watching him and listening in on the conversation, eager to see if the rumours Kyle had spread earlier were true. "Oh Nadia is a very clever schemer. I'd say watch out for her and Millian they're thick as thieves kinda like you Daniel and Traxies. Just as much trouble makers" they chuckle as they finish their drink.

He cycled a gusty vent and pushed his empty cube away, coming to a reluctant conclusion. "As much as I'd love nothing more than to keep yakking all night, you should probably call it and get some recharge. You looked tired. I'm going to have one more round before I head to berth. Magnus is gonna have me on inventory or worse with him tomorrow," Rodimus shuddered theatrically at the thought.

 "But we should definitely do this again real soon. This was nice, and um thank you. For you know helping me" it's a rather shy reply which has them giving him a smile. "Enjoy your night captain, I'm most likely heading back to my room soon. Getting late and I plan on actually sleeping in my bed and not a desk tonight" they state while standing up. Joints popping slightly.

Once Rodimus had helped them to the ground they flahs him another smile “Good night Rodimus I'll see you tomorrow " they state as they make their way towards the door of the bar. He's sat there for a moment his spark fluttering as he watches them. before he gets a ping from swerve and other bots asking the gossip. He goes to get up and leave the bar before be can get bombarded with questions only to get cornered by Swerve. 

"A-hem! And just where do you think you're off to in such a hurry, Captain?" Swerve's cheery voice broke Rodimus from his musings as the gathered bots closed in, optics alight with curiosity and engex-loosened daring. A blush swiftly rose in Rodimus' plating, though he straightened with false bravado. "Just turning in for the night, mechs, as should you all” 

Catcalls and laughs erupted from the crowd. "Aw, no need to play coy, Roddy!" laughed Tailgate. "We all saw you chumming it up with the Ambassador - spill the goods!"

Rodimus cycled a sigh. They'd get it out of him one way or another. Best tell it himself and save some shred of dignity intact. "Alright alright, you buzzards! I'll tell you what really went down..." 

________

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[ppnuggie]

hi hello

Saw ur REQS open so I had to slither in !!

Was wondering if you could do a fluff Rodimus and megatron + reader one shot that involves cuddles and pure fluff and what not :3

Btw absolutely love your content!!, hope you’re doing absolutely great!!, don’t forget to keep urself hydrated and fed :3

　　　　　　MEGATRON ,, RODIMUS x gn reader

　　　　『　megatron ,, rodimus ,, lil hint of ravage ,, gender neutral reader 』

　　-> some morning cuddling with roddy and megs

　　— fluff ,, sfw ,, crack

　　— here you go :3 there wasnt much for me to work with 😭 so its kinda short ,, sorry abt that but tysm for requesting !! :3

          the alarm clock blared ,, beeping loudly and awakening a certain captain . rodimus groaned ,, sitting upwards as he looked towards the monstrosity . " its not even monday yet ,, why havent you turned this cursed thing off ?" he grumbled as he shook your body awake . " cuz i dont feel like turning it back on sunday night ,, just hit the red button roddy ." you mumbled and turned to bury your face in megatron's chassis .

          megatron tucked an arm around you ,, pulling you close and lifting the covers over your body more . rodimus fought with the alarm clock for a minute before finally turning it off . he snuggled back under the blankets ,, wrapping his arms around your waist as he nuzzled into your neck . " at least we can sleep in on weekends ." he purred and pressed a kiss to your neck .

          you nodded and tilted your head to the side ,, leaving more space of your neck open for rodimus . he trailed more kisses on your skin ,, pressing his derma against your veins and up your jaw . megatron's hand pet the back of your head ,, a soft glimmer to his optics . all was nice ,, basking in the warmth of your partners as you started to lull back to sleep . at least until ravage busted in and started to berate rodimus and complain about swerve's service .

[cyberapid]

Earthspark Bumblebee x Cybertronian Reader

reader isn't gendered, brief description of a Terran bleeding

—•—•—

The yard of the Malto family is quiet, besides the gentle clanking of Bumblebees stray movements as he holds himself upright on one arm and the occasional sounds of the animals that live there.

“I wish to do a full bio-mechanic and diagnostic scan as soon as possible, Conjunx. Your file has shown that its been more than a year since your last, this dissatisfies me,”

His optics squint open just enough to allow you to see shining blue before they close again with a short huff, optical ridges pinching together and dermas shifting into a place to show his annoyance. “It's not that big of a deal. I run like a dream, but if it'll satisfy you– sure.”

A small whirl of excitement leaves you before you can think of suppressing the excitement coursing from your chassis to your vents, a noise that if you were looking at the yellow bot you’d see brought a small smile to his face plate.

You both fall quickly back to a comfortable silence enjoying the ‘weekend’ that the older Maltos children claimed needed to be without lessons where instead you relax or play in the case of the children, just as quick your calmness was suddenly interrupted by the barn door being slammed open by the twins, Hashtag, and Robby all looking panicked and quickly speaking over one another— Their rambling is cut short by Bumblebee slamming to the ground with a thud so loud it has Robby leave the ground for a moment.

“Slow down! Slow down. What happened?” Your Sparkmate’s quick to push himself back to his pedes as the small horde of the Maltos children nearly surround him— he tries desperately to calm their jumbled panic into something understandable for the pair of you as they drag the two of you towards the entrance of the barn.

A quick scan with your optics covers them in a blue hue, that comes up with no external or internal injuries on them. But the heartbeat of the small human holding your servo to drag you towards the barn is both faster and far more erratic than usual, showing his panic, although you can already tell that from his actions alone.

“It's Nightshade! It was an accident, we only wanted them to come play. Honest!” Robby is quick to give in explanation, seeming to be the calmest child in this situation even with his heightened state.

The two of you are rushed into the barn and then under where you're met with Mo and Jawbreaker fretting over Nightshade, who's clutching their lower tibulen in panic. A scan isn't necessary to see the main issue as Nightshades servos are covered in the familiar blue hue of energon leaks down their pede and is covering their servos.

Nevertheless you quickly scan the young bot, where its registered that one of their fuel lines have been sliced, thankfully not deadly and nothing notably serious,

“Would you remove your servos, Nightshade. I will be repositioning you,” the Maltos children move aside, tense, as you raise and place Nightshade with ease onto a tall workstation. Unlike the children who give you space to work— Bumblebee doesn't care much for the personal space of the young Terran or yourself as he leans forward inspecting your quick work to find the fuel line in question with a silent panic. “An easy fix but this will hurt, sparkling. I will be quick,” without much explanation after you begin work with pinching the affected line, which causes a yelp of pain from the young Terran whose servos snap to grab Bumblebees. The procedure is small and finished with a practiced ease and quickness as the afflicted line is wrapped in a sturdy tape– not new but better.

Twitch is the first to react with a strangled yell before wrapping her arms around her sibling, resting their helms against one another's, “I'm so sorry! We’ll never sneak up on you again, promise!” her affection is returned by her much taller sibling whose hug nearly engulfs her.

“You should cleanse your servos before- okay,” your suggestion is heard by none of the Maltos children as their excited chatter fills the once tense air but you're just as quickly distracted as you feel your Conjunx's servos creep around your mid-plating from behind before fully wrapping his arms around, sending your spark into a dizzying flutter, “i also have to cleanse mine– so don't, bumblebee,” blue stained servos are held just out of reach of his own wandering ones as a soft rumble from his vents sends vibrations down your back chest plate.

“I think I'll survive,” being behind you hides the cheeky grin he sports but not the warm air from his vents breathing on the back of your helm. “You did great,”

“It's something I've done countless times. I’d be worried if not- the energon, enough Bumblebee.”

[kalixora]

Wreckings

Transformers Prime

Reader is presumed female

Reader is an autobot

“Hey Y/N!!!”

Miko yelled as she approached you, waving enthusiastically. You groaned as you shifted your gaze to the human child. Aside from Bulkhead and Wheeljack being on a mission, you'd assume Miko would join Bumblebee and Raph on whatever little trip they were on... yet she chose to stay with you in the base, alone. Ratchet was doing something only Primus knows what and clearly didn't want to be bothered, so you were the only bot Miko could torment.

“Yes Miko?”

Miko shone up at you from the small area the kids have on base, she stood on the couch while gazing up at you, Miko had a habit of doing that from time to time, it never troubled you personally, but it did make you wonder why she only gave you that look and not anybody else.

“So? I gotta know, on Cybertron how does like dating work?”

“Dating?” You tilt your helm in confusion.

“Yeah! Like ya know- if you have romantic feelings or relationships with anyone on your planet?”

“Oh! Well…” you shifted your optics towards Ratchet as he let out a slight chuckle still continuing his work. “Why don’t you ask Ratchet? He’s been around a lot longer than I have and I’m sure he could tell you all about that.”

Ratchet turned his helm with a scoff, “Don’t lump me into whatever that conversation is…”

“Ah come on Ratchet, I’m sure you had some femme look in your direction,” you said crossing your arms. “Maybe even a few mechs?”

Ratchet raised his optical ridge at you and you couldn’t help but cover your derma.

Miko laughed, “No offense Rach, but you don’t really look like a lady killer.”

You snickered as Ratchet scoffed slightly. “I’m a busy medic, I had no time for that stuff what so ever. Thank you oh so much.”

Miko turned back to you and made a wry smile at you, it freaked you out a little how she was able to twist her face like that.

“What?”

“So like you’re telling me that you didn’t have time for relationships either?” Miko placed her hands on her hip.

“Yes?”

“Uh huh-“

Ratchet huffed, “I beg to Primus.”

You turned your helm towards the medic’s direction. “I’m sorry is there something you wish to say? Doc?”

Ratchet didn’t turn his helm but instead only grunted at the name you called him. “Not even a certain scout caught your attention maybe even a certain wrecker?”

You raised optical ridge, “If your referring to Bumblebee then I see him as family, and if your referring to Wheeljack then I wouldn’t cross that line with you… I know how much you adore him.”

Ratchet groaned in annoyance, “Please, I can’t get anything done with that scarp yard metal around. On the contrary you seem to have a soft spot of his partner. Not that anyone but myself has noticed.”

“You-“

Before you could speak Miko let out an ear piercing squeal.

Miko gasped, “Bulkhead?! You have feelings for Bulky?!”

You turned your gaze at Miko, “Oh no- no no, Bulkhead and I are friends. It’s strictly professional between us.”

“So she says,” Ratchet grumbles.

“I do not!” You scoffed. “We’ve been friends forever. Why would I want to ruin that over some romantic feelings?”

Miko hummed grinning at you, “Who says you couldn’t have romantic feelings for a friend hm?”

“I don’t have any interest in Bulkhead.”

“That’s a load of bull and you know it Y/N!” Miko says pointing at you. “Admit it! You’re so totally into Bulkhead!”

“I am not! Miko you’re speaking nonsense right now,” you argued.

“You do!”

“There’s no evidence to prove anything that whatsoever.”

Ratchet let out a fake cough to which you rolled your optics. “Is there something stuck in your vocalizer Ratchet? Because you’re mighty talkative for someone who’s supposed to be busy.”

Ratchet turned to fully face you now, “Oh I’m sorry, here let me just call Bulkhead for you now so you’re aware of his status on the mission since you’re ever so worried.”

“You waste of dirty scarp meta-“

“Y/N come on this is a safe space, if you have feelings for Bulky just come out and say it, there’s no shame to it,” Miko said now sitting on the couch.

“Miko, I don’t have any feelings towards Bulkhead, he’s my friend and I admire him, that’s it,“ You said calmly. “I’m going out for a drive… Miko would you care to come with?”

Miko perked up and nodded, “Heck yeah!”

You smiled as your placed your servo out for Miko to climb onto it.

“Just call us back when everyone arrives Ratchet.”

Ratchet turned back to his work and waved you off. “Be careful.”

Driving out of base, Miko began to play her rock music and air play the guitar as she listened to the music, after about a few minutes she paused it and stared out the window.

“Something the matter?” You asked her.

Miko shook her head, “Nah… just thinkin about something.”

“What is it?”

Miko leaned back in the seat and let out an exaggerated sigh, “Well~”

You sighed already knowing what she was thinking about. “Lemme guess about me and Bulkhead.”

Miko giggled, “Maybe~”

“Whatever it is the answer is no.”

“Aw come on!” Miko groans. “All those years you spent together, you’ve seriously felt nothing?”

“Miko… you know what… okay fine I did.”

Miko’s eye lit up with excitement, but her demeanor didn’t change. “Are you for real or are you just saying that to make me shut up?”

You sighed again, “No. I did at a point have feelings for Bulkhead.”

“What happened? Why’d you stop? Come on Y/N I gotta know! Please!” Miko began to plead nonstop.

“Okay okay fine, but you need to swear to never EVER say a word to anyone, or Bulkhead himself. Do you understand?”

Miko nods repeatedly, “Yes yes I swear! Tell me!”

“Well… I do NOT have feelings for him.”

Miko groaned loudly, “Y/N seriously!”

“I don’t Miko… I just, never gotten around to that kind of stuff, he’s a great friend and I admire him a lot but that’s the furthest I’ve come across as feelings wise,” you said. “I need you to understand that okay?”

Miko sighed, “I get it…but be honest have you had crushes on anyone?”

“…Maybe a few.”

Miko gasped, “WHO? OH PLEASE TELL ME!”

“Alright I’ll humor you… there was this one bot-“

Com link: Y/N back to base

Y/N: Copy. On the way back.

“You ready to see Bulkhead Miko?” You asked, slightly wanting to change the subject but you know Miko wasn’t going to let it go so easily.

“Yup, but do continue about this bot that captured your attention.”

[Back at base]

The kids went room for the night and everyone went off to go into recharge and rest up for the night, everyone except the medic himself.

You walked up to him slowly making sure not to spook him. But he noticed you rather quickly. Ratchet looked at you for a brief moment then turned back to his work. “Shouldn’t you be in recharge?”

“Shouldn’t you be doing the same thing?” You asked stepping beside him and looking at what he was doing.

“I’m working.”

“I can see that,” you hummed turning to look at the medic. “Was the Bulkhead thing really necessary Ratchet?”

“What? And have Miko running around and talking about you and me? Absolutely not,” Ratchet huffed.

“Right…”

Ratchet stopped his work to face you. You went around him and turned off his monitor, he glared at you, “Y/N I needed that.”

“As much as you need me?” You asked moving closer to him. Ratchet stumbled for a moment then smiled shaking his helm, “Not nearly as much as I need you.”

“That’s what I thought, now Ratchet be honest with me, are jealous of Bulkhead?”

Ratchet scoffs, “As if I-“

“Ratchet.”

“Okay fine, maybe just a little… I’ve seen the way he looks at you now and I just- I don’t know…”

You place your servo on Ratchet’s chest plate and gave him a gentle smile, “He’s adorable sure but you’re the one that has my attention and that will never change Ratchet. Even if Miko annoys me until the bitter end.”

Ratchet laughed and rolled his optics, “Maybe telling her won’t be such a bad idea after all.”

“Perhaps,” you agreed. “But you’re not gonna do that are you doc?”

“Nope absolutely.”

[theforestghost]

MegOP Week 2024 - Day 1

Day 1: Memory/Gift Fandom: Transformers Animated Prompt: Optimus is the reincarnation of the 13th but does not know it. Rating: G

Optimus stood in the observatory, optics watching the unfamiliar stars that twinkled all around him. Even though the system was unfamiliar, there was a sense of comfort being surrounded by space like this, by stars and meteors, no planets, no ships, just him and the universe. Like a cradle it wrapped its field around him in a familiar embrace he never remembered having. Despite his lack of memory, Optimus still returned to the stars any time he needed that embrace, seeking it out like a sparkling seeks their creators’ spark. Closing this optics, Optimus let himself be lulled into the unknown comfort that had now become nostalgic.

He was so engrossed in this feeling however, that he failed to notice the heavy steps coming up behind him, until an equally warm field did in fact wrap around him. Optimus opened his optics and looked up at Megatron who stood close enough to touch with the slightest movement. Far closer than anything Optimus thought he’d ever let the mech get. 

But much had changed since they had first met. Now they could sit in Megatron’s habsuite, discuss poetry and stories over oil and if Optimus ever made a snide remark, well Megatron merely chuckled and watched him like he had said the most endearing thing in the universe. It did something to Optimus’ struts whenever Megatron looked at him like that and he’d outright denied it for so long that even Ratchet got tired of him. The medic had even teamed up with Strika of all bots to lock them in a room together until they sorted out their feelings and now here they were, basking in each other's fields under the stars.

Though Optimus was far from complaining. Especially when those large servos were trailing down his arms, sparking warmth across his frame as they did. Optimus let out a deep ex-vent and finally leaned back against Megatron’s chassis.

“What is going on in that processor of yours, little one.” Megatron asked, his voice deep and low, reverberating through Optimus’s back struts without mercy.

Optimus stayed silent for a klik, absorbing the comfort of his existence before turning his focus back to the stars. “For a while now, I’ve been having recharge fluxes that… confuse me.” Optimus spoke hesitantly. He didn’t exactly know how to explain these flashes of information he had been seeing. Of course he’d spoken to Ratchet about them, but the medic assumed it was just all of the stress getting to him, which made sense. “At first they were just recharge fluxes, but lately I get them when I’m not in recharge.”

“What do you see?” Megatron asks when Optimus goes quiet again.

Optimus bit his derma, optics focusing on a cluster of stars in the distance. “Mostly of Cybertronians, the same group of them over and over. I think there are twelve of them… sometimes the flux is of just one or two, other times it’s a group.” Optimus leaned back to completely rest against Megatron, letting the warlord hold him. “Sometimes we are talking, but I can barely make out what they are saying, usually just a glyph or two. Other times… we are fighting against an enemy but I can never make out who or what.”

“You don’t recognize any of them?” Megatron asked, carefully stroking Optimus’ arms with his digits. Optimus shook his helm.

“But I feel like I know them.” Optimus said, tilting his helm back to look at Megatron. “They feel just as familiar to me as you or any of my team do. Like I should know these conversations, these fights! That I should know their designations and what they mean to me but anytime I try to go deeper, it all cuts off! Like the wires just abruptly disconnect when I try to delve any deeper.”

Optimus had a frustrated pout on his derma, one that Megatron found quite adorable but he refrained from letting the mech know that. Optimus was clearly distressed over these visions he’s been having. “Have you always had these for recharge fluxes?” Megatron asked. Once again, Optimus shook his helm.

“No. They didn’t start till we got to Earth.” Optimus noted. “After… coming in contact with the AllSpark!”

“The AllSpark has the ability to heal more than just our frames, it is possible it partially recovered lost memories of yours.” Megatron said.

“Lost memories from when?” Optimus retorted. “I don’t have any gaps that I can recall!”

“The Council has means of overwriting a bot’s memories with ease. Shadow Play is a technique they are not beyond using if they deem necessary. You could have your entire processor rewritten and be none the wiser.” Megatron looked Optimus in the optic as he spoke, his derma tight in a line. 

Optimus instinctively wanted to repute Megatron’s claims, defend the Council and  deny his memories were ever changed. But he knew deeper down that Megatron could very easily be right. That the Council could very easily rewrite him and he’d never know. These were just some of the reasons why he’d chosen to side with Megatron in the end, because his Council had discarded them the moment they could.

“Great, so now I’m dealing with the possibility of having Shadow Play done to me along with everything else!” Optimus grumbled, crossing his arms over his chassis as he leaned more weight against Megatron. The large mech clearly didn’t mind as he moved his arms to embrace Optimus more. 

“That is a possibility, I can have Soundwave look into it more though.” Megatron offered. “He is far more adverse in matters of the processor than I am.”

Optimus looked up at Megatron and pondered the idea. Soundwave was a telepath and had the ability to dive far deeper into one’s processor than a medic could. It felt invasive but Optimus wanted answers and Soundwave could give them to him. 

“Okay.” He said.

Megatron smiled and gave Optimus a gentle squeeze. “I will inform him tomorrow then.”

“Thank you.” Optimus said with an ex-vent.

“I can think of a way you can properly thank you.” Megatron purred, leaning down.

Optimus turned to him and boldly pressed a kiss to Megatron’s derma but withdrew rather quickly. “That good enough?” He asked, his voice a light tease.

“No.” Megatron growled. He grabbed Optimus, lifting the smaller mech up and kissed him harder, using one servo to hold his helm. “I think this is a good start though.”

[uselessmicrowave]

for a friend

tfp optimus prime x reader x megatron (pt 2)

part two of this post

tws/content- dubcon elements, dark themes, megatron being a weird mf, voyeurism, shock collars, petplay, master/servant, edging, sticky interfacing, oral

“Good bot, Optimus. Now I want to see you. Open your panels and press your spike into it. You want to have your pet like this in the future, don’t you, Prime?”

“Y- Yes, Lord Megatron.” instead of shoving his spike directly into you, Optimus swipes his servo over his glossa, gathering oral lubricant on his digits. He rubs at the tip of his spike groaning, then reaches down to in between your thighs. Optimus hesitates, looking up at you for permission. You nod.

“I said,” another shock to the poor, detained bot. “spike it.”

“I’ll try to be gentle.” he quickly rubs at your entrance. “I don’t know if I can-” Optimus is cut off with his own yelp, the warlord pushing his hips into yours. It hurts like hell, the pain stings around your whole waist. You shut your eyes and clench your jaw in discomfort. “M’ s-so sorry Y/n-”

“Awe, are you?” Megatron leans into the autobot, faceplates next to faceplates. His whole frame shudders, his spike twitching inside of you. “How does that feel, Optimus? Is it too much?”

Optimus, somehow, looks so much more overwhelmed in this state. Megatron is responded to by a weak moan, desperate and high.

“Tight!” Optimus’ optics flare brightly, his frame shuddering audibly again. “Oh- frag!” his voice booms around you, you suddenly feel scorching hot liquid taking up space inside of you. It’s a struggle to keep his huge aft spike inside you, even halfway inside. Now with the transfluids, his spike is being pushed out. It feels like you’re a water balloon about to pop.

“Overloaded already?” a shock to the autobot makes him flinch hard, his spike twitches inside of you. “Bad bot, prime.” Megatron pulls the red bot back and out of you, taking hold of the collar. Some of the fluids gush onto the cold tabletop.

“Be a good bot.” Optimus lets the grey mech bend him over the table, his faceplates are pressed right up against your sex.

“Hnn!” Optimus’ vents push against your body, his optics closed in an attempt to not get so charged up again and to conceal the amount of arousal he was really feeling.

“You know what to do with them, don’t you, Optimus?” Megatron prompts. The autobot shakily opens his intake, pushes his glossa past his dermas and in between your legs. His optics are lazily trained on your body, oral lubricant spilling out onto your thighs.

Optimus hums as he licks at your sex, tasting his and your fluids. He moves towards your soaked entrance. He gently prods his way into you, craning his neck cables to give you the most he can.

You moan at the sensation, arching your back and tensing. It’s not painful as it was before, his glossa is a much better fit for your fragile human body. He gingerly pumps his glossa into you, massaging all of the places that had been abused prior. Optimus can feel you squeezing down on his glossa, he knows his faceplates are painted blue and burning against your skin. It would be a reddish color for the next few days with the temperature of his plating.

It’s beginning to be too much stimulation for you, you whine and writhe against the mech’s faceplates. Optimus reaches a servo up to you, taking hold of your thigh and holding you still. You paw at his servos, not so silently begging for him to let you squirm. Optimus keeps a hold on your body until you buck into his faceplates, so close to your peak of pleasure.

But, unfortunately, Optimus decides to cease the thrusting and instead he begins to kiss at your thighs. You whine loudly and protest by tugging at his audial fins and kibble, Megatron chuckles.

“I never knew you were such a little tease, Prime.” the warlord muses, watching the autobot’s movements. “I need you to be a good bot and make them overload, can you do that?”

Optimus immediately continues his actions from beforehand, shoving his glossa in and out of your tight hole. Megatron places a hand on the prime’s helm, almost gently, pushing his faceplates into your malleable body. “Good bot.”

“Mmph…” Optimus’ voice sends pleasant vibrations through your body. It makes you even more needy, closer to your edge.

“Yes, give them what they want.” with a slow lick to your sex, you reach your peak and writhe against his glossa. Optimus pulls away from you, letting you ride the pleasure out fully.

Out of nowhere, an overwhelming tiredness washes over you. Your body goes slack on the cold table, breathing hard to cool down and slow your heartbeat to calm yourself. Drool drips from your opened mouth onto your chest, it runs down your side.

Optimus, licking his derma, has your fluid all over his faceplates. His eyes are still lazily watching the relieved and tired expressions you make.

“I think that you have overwhelmed your little toy.” Megatron rumbles. “No matter, we can continue without the plaything.”

The grey mech picks you up in his cold claws, taking you through a door to a separate room. He carefully sets you down on a table covered with soft fabric. Megatron softly speaks to you, “Be a good little human and stay right here, hm?”

Then he exits, leaving you alone and in the warm, welcoming darkness. You decide to rest, maybe you will fall asleep, maybe not. The fabric rubs against your skin in an almost comforting way as you lay down and relax. The longer you stare at the high ceiling, the heavier your eyelids would get.

Just before you fall asleep, there is a quiet voice. “Recharge well, little organic.”

You’ve woken back up. It’s the middle of the night, you are on top of a sleeping Optimus, kind of near the base, someone has dressed you, and you have a blanket covering your body. Optimus is still warm, but without the thick purple blanket you would be freezing. Your mind is too fuzzy to wonder who gave it to you.

You turn your attention to the mech, his optics are offline, and his vents are steady. There isn’t a collar around his neck cables anymore, the poor bot’s vents rattle as he cools himself down. You rise and fall on top of his chassis.

You can see an infinite amount of stars from here. Without the light pollution from a big city, the stars are able to shine clearly. There are no clouds to spoil your view.

It wouldn’t be too bad to stay out here tonight.

[cozzzynook]

Rodimus slowly turning into a spark eater?

Side note - if i haven’t answered your ask its because i’m either waiting for inspiration or i want to write a long fic thread for it.

-

I’m not really familiar with Spark eaters but I will say Rodimus becomes a spark eater because he was hit with the spark eater gun. They had to scramble to find a cure and it worked only half way.

He ends up becoming half spark eater. He’s still himself but now he has heightened speed and the tenticle prongs a spike eater has on his lower back that extend quite far.

His claws are sharper and he has fangs that grow past his dermas that get shaved weekly.

His optics are a different color as well and his frame loses weight but he still looks healthy so long as he eats a spark.

Thankfully Perceptor and Brainstorm can create a close copy of a spark using energon blood and energon fuel among other things.

Rodimus sometimes has a hard time accepting this new reality and often goes to be alone because he’s afraid he’ll hurt someone.

He’s pushes bots a way for a long time and keeps distance.

Thankfully he can’t spread the spark eating virus but he doesn’t want to chance it.

Whatever he had with Megatron he ends or tries to.

Megatron refuses and at that point decides he won’t give Rodimus space anymore to process things he forces his way in and doesn’t leave until the two talk things through.

Rodimus cries a lot but he feels better.

Spark eaters are not meant for isolation just as mechs aren’t. So he needs physical connection more than he used to.

Megs doesn’t mind at all.

[brownprincipessa]

♡ My Looksmaxxing journey ♡

♡♡♡ Hi, everyone! ♡♡♡

I recently embarked on a personal journey to focus on enhancing my physical appearance. With ample free time during my summer break before the start of my final semester in August, I decided to dedicate myself to this endeavor. In this blog post, I'll share my three main areas of focus and the steps I've taken to achieve my goals.

Teeth: While my teeth aren't in terrible shape, I do have some spaces on my upper row and excessive gum display, which I wanted to address.

To address the spaces, I opted for braces ($142/month). Additionally, I plan to undergo a gum reduction procedure, as recommended by my orthodontist, to rectify the excessive gum display.

Skin: I began working on my skincare earlier this year but struggled to maintain consistency. However, I have now established a morning and night routine, along with some dermatologist-prescribed medication.

To improve my skin, I follow a routine that includes applying Spiroloctone (taken twice daily, $15 every 3 months) and Tretinoin (applied topically every other night, $10 every 3 months). In addition, I use Cerave cleanser, Cerave morning and night moisturizers, and a witch hazel toner for both my morning and night routines. To enhance the effectiveness, I incorporate Gua Sha and derma roller techniques in my morning routine and perform dry brushing before every shower. I also ensure to use body oil and lotion immediately after each shower, while using Dove for sensitive skin during my shower routine.

Hair: This year, I made the decision to stop relying on wigs and weaves and embrace my natural hair, which I believe suits me better.

To care for my hair, I follow a weekly routine that includes washing it with a cleansing shampoo and hydrating conditioner. For styling, I opt for a Wash n' Go method, applying a botanical gel layered with a holding/alcohol-free gel. Additionally, I take MSM supplements to support hair growth ($10). To maintain its health, I deep condition my hair once a month.

Body: Though going to the gym has always been challenging for me due to discomfort in crowded spaces, I have found alternative ways to stay active.

Instead of traditional gym workouts, I prefer at-home Pilates routines and outdoor walks in the park, which allow me to prioritize my physical well-being while avoiding the discomfort of being watched or surrounded by large groups of people.

My journey towards looksmaxxing has been an empowering experience of self-improvement. By focusing on my teeth, skin, hair, and overall physical well-being, I am taking proactive steps towards enhancing my appearance and boosting my self-confidence. I'm excited to continue this journey and see the positive changes it brings.

Will try to update every month ♡

[ikkosu]

BOUNDARIES

warnings : nudity. slight non-con. slightly suggestive(?) part of MDM (my darling medic verse)

PHARMA lacks a conceptual understanding of space. He might despise bursts of affectionate touches from his love little pet but if it is his turn to show off his streaks of intimacy you're in for a ride — any semblance or care to your own boundaries are disregarded.

Oh, you're working? Too bad he's got you on his lap, prying the reports off your brittle fingers. You've got twenty four hours in a day. You can do it later. No, he doesn't care if the deadline is today. You're to be disciplined about diligence and work productivity. That's on you.

It's not that he doesn't want to care, he's well-versed in the cultural differences between a Cybertronian's mindset to a human one in regards of nudity, he just needs more than a brush of your fingers against his own.

You're endearing just as you are amusing with the thing you call 'clothes' draping over your soft little body. In many of his cold days, he thinks about ripping the fabric to shreds. A fantasy of how you'd feel underneath that primitive fabric takes up much of his waking hours. However, the only thing stopping him for doing so is the fact that you'll reduce his beddings to the outside lawn with the dogs.

It's atrociously blasphemous! How dare he be restrained from touching his pet by a mere textile linen from worms? If anything, it was you who should be grateful he cared enough to press about the matter in the first place. To be graced by the touch of the best medics in Delphi.

Pharma glares at the chronometer.

It's ticking close to the end of his shift and a quick swivel to his datapad, it's clear he hasn't drawn up a single report. No, no, no. Whatever happened to diligence? He's getting frustrated. This thought. This feeling. It's distracting his work. He needs answers, quick. Even if in unethical terms he'll have to seek it.

After a lengthful day in Delphi, forbid he ever said it's 'quiet', he slinks Into your shared room — half a habsuite and a normal apartment, if that's even possible to describe — and his hearing processors perks upon the running splash of water. A snake-like grin curls the corner of his dermas. Perfect, he muses. He's just in time for your evening bath.

So again he's goes, off to concoct another of of his unruly experiments. Will it end well? No, probably not. But who cares.Why would you ever want to hide a body like that from him?

"Dear? Are you in there?" He calls out, turning the knob.

You're too busy belting off to that song again. Skyfall by 'Amdbele', or whatever.He should've smashed that jukebox the moment he laid his eyes on it. That four sided, two, three (?) inch of metal you call a 'phone' take sup too much of your time and it irritates him to no end.

Really, you are blind sometimes.

The door gives way with a pull and the warm mist of the bathroom prickles his face. Your figure is a haze amidst the mist and his optics shutters, adjusting to the dim, golden lighting of the bathroom. Then he halts with a harsh jolt. His wings flare up just as how his face does when he regards the nape of your neck down to your back, to your—

"My, my, oh my..." He mumbles with a raised brow.

"Pharma!?" You gave a girlish shriek and on instinct, whether it was reflex or reflux, you ploughed the cleaning sponge to his helm. It bounces off with a plink against the metal. The mech,however, lay undeterred.

Pharma regards your scrunched up face and your arms — he only now realized how slick and glistening your body was — clutching your chest and legs pressed together like that'll cover up your modesty.

Oh, and your hair is matted much like a wet, tattered cat freshly wrung from a bath. He's especially fascinated by the way the fat of your chest is pushed up, though. Two circular mounds of flesh. So soft and so snug. How, pretty.

Now that would make an interesting study.

On the other hand you're stunned. Speechless. You hadn't expect him to be home this early — usually he'd come by ten. But that doesn't matter, you're too speechless that all you could sputter was his name again and again, finding the familiar grip of his name.

And when you do it's another shout. "Pharma!"

"I heard you the first time, dear." He mumbles lazily, his optics drifted off to the side and lower a bit.

"You can't just barge in here anytime you want!"

"If I wasn't suppose to then why was it unlocked?" He stares, bemused, as you curl around the curtains to hide yourself further. He catches you eying the towel within reach of his arm on the sink.

"You should be careful next time you decide not to follow simple basic house rules."

Pharma begins stalking towards you, blatantly ignoring the towel on the sink. Forget the curtains, you push yourself up against the tile wall to prolong the distance between the mech and your bare body. He's got that stupid smug smile on his face and his servos are clenching and unclenching on an invisible stressball. Said stressball is about to be the mound of your flesh in a moment. But that's fine. You've got a plan. Come any closer and you'll jam a foot up his dick.

"That doesn't mean you can just—" You cut yourself short, feeling your face burn up. He's so handsomely irritating that the urge of throttle him dead overrides your prior chagrin. "I told you, you can't just come in here unannounced like that. I was naked, Pharma!"

"And?"

"What do you mean 'and' ?!"

"Depends." He shrugs, now a foot away "What's there to hide?"

" Everything! There's this thing called boundaries, you walking, talking piece of—" You feel something metal and cold groping the flesh of your ass and you're pulled flush against his chest.

"Oh, I would love to be educated on such matters, sweetheart." He's hunched over, helm craning down close to your own. You feel the ozone breath of his mouth prickling your face. "I can't even begin to comprehend the little evolutions of every miniscule organs you stock up that little body of yours."

"What's with you and organs?!"

"That aside. I have another inkling. I was quite curious why humans are so insistent on hiding their flesh from other humans..."

"And how's that working out for you, huh?" You bite back. He grins.

"My conclusion comes clear. I'd prefer it if you were to expose such delicacies to me and only me alone..." He purrs and, much to your chagrin, buries his face into the mound of flesh that is your chest

This bastard, I swear. Your face flares up and you try to pry away from his grip. He doesn't care, however, too focused with peppering kisses down your sternum and the crook of his nose trailing after. You feel yourself lowered until you're backed against the cold, unrelenting touch of the tile floor.

"Why must you hide this from me?" He's hovered above you now, casting a shadow over your face as his head blocks the light from the ceiling. "I think it's high time we should have ourselves a little bonding session, no?"

And on cue his modesty panel opens. You disregard the slick member pressing against your stomach and wrangled away from his body, braced your stance into a standing position and well, jammed a foot up his dick.

Safe to say, he won't be using the baby factory maker for a while.

[BONUS]

It's just another day at Delphi.

Ambulon stares, concerned as the CMO waddles from ward to ward with a grimace etched on his face.

"Pharma, you're limping." He speaks up eventually and the jet halts.

It felt like hours as he did a 180 swivel around. His face twitched, a forced grin and he grits out. "You don't think i know that?"

Ambulon stands his ground. After all, wounded doctors are a blemish to the system.

"I understand you might not need a helping hand. But you don't have to hide it. I'm well verse with the feeling as well." Ambulon trails off, glancing at his own prickled off paint job. "It's not something to be ashamed of. In fact, it just means your circuits are faring well."

Pharma blinks. Once. Then, twice. "Ambulon, my man. What in Primus's spark are you going on about?"

"Your joints." He seems equally puzzled. "Aren't they rusty?"

What returned, however, is a funny look.

[whitelionspirit]

Takes place during vol 13 of LL with medic! reader

———

The very cramped space ship is starting to make everyone steer crazy and it’s made you feel claustrophobic more then usual. On the lost light you had space to move around, here you all are just sitting ducks. You tried to keep yourself occupied mostly by switching between sitting in your lovers laps.

Currently you were sitting with Ratchet and Drift snuggled between the speedster’s thighs. He had smuggled you a pillow how you didn’t know but to put between your back and his armor. You were trying to play a game on your data pad as reading and trying to just sleep with so much noise going on around you had been pointless.

You barely heard their conversation as the two spoke softly to one another. Drift shifted slightly making you glance up at him before going back to your game. A soft touch to your head made you look up again this time meeting his blue optics. He smiled softly at you as he rubbed his digit along your cheek affectionately. You smiled back at him and kissed his digit, before going back to your game again. You heard Ratchet chuckle as you stifled a yawn.

“You should really try recharging star shine,” Drift voiced

You hummed adjusting your body to try and stop your body from falling asleep yet again. “I’ll sleep later…just hard to with so much noise.” You pouted as yet another yawn escaped you.

Ratchet and Drift shared a look before you were carefully scooped up into Drift’s servo and carried out of the mess hall. You looked at both bots questioningly but neither said anything as they walked towards the front of the ship….

You groaned. “Guys! Seriously, I’m fine!”

Ratchet scoffed and eyed you with a raised optical ridge that made you sigh and just pick up your game again. There really was no use in arguing with your partner, especially when it came to your own health.

It was only a few minutes later that Drift stopped walking and you realized where you were. You tensed as Drift knocked on the door and it admittedly slid open to reveal Rodimus sitting in his desk chair. He tiled his helm in question as the three of you entered the captain’s quarters which functioned also as the cockpit.

It was much smaller than his one on the lost light and much more cluttered with data pads and his belongings scattered about.

“Hey guys what’s up?” Rodimus asked.

You felt awkward just being here things had gotten better since Drift’s return but things between you and Rodimus were still a patch work of interactions. He still seemed to carry his guilt as even him and Drift hadn’t fully returned to their old selves yet.

“Our little star shine here hasn’t had a good recharge in a mega-cycle as they say it’s too noisy out their with the others.”

Rodimus’s optical ridges pinched together in thought as a frown pulled at his derma. He looked so cute when he did that and this whole awkwardness was killing you.

“So you brought them here because…?” He asked confusion in his words.

Ratchet ex-vented as he rolled his optics before gesturing to you. “They need somewhere to sleep peacefully and it’s quiet here so that’s why we are here.”

Rodimus’ face lit up as his optics finally took in your form fully since you entered the room. You knew you looked like shit but having his full attention made you feel; subconscious as your grip tightened on the data pad in your hands.

“Oh.”

“I hope that’s okay.” Drift smiled sheepishly.

“Ah, yeah, yeah leave them with me for a while that’s fine.” His vocalizer sputtered as he reset it.

You looked to the conjunx pairing giving them your best pleading look but they both ignored it as Drift lowered his servo to Rodimus who was already reaching for you. You flipped both mechs off as you hopped down into Rodimus’ servo you glanced back at them once more as both gave you reassuring looks before waving the captain off as they left the room.

You looked up at him and he gave you a timid smile and you sighed. “I’ll just try and get some sleep you won’t even know I’m here.”

“No worries I don’t mind I just have some paper work to do.”

You nodded before trying to find a comfortable place to sleep and try not to think about how much you liked this new paint job of his.

[fiftyshadesofmetal]

Post-gut Clarity

1.5k words and I've finally managed to work up the motivation to get this edited and posted, so here y'all go ^^

Based off this piece I did

Warnings for: vore, valveplug, explicit content, non graphic digestion/reformation, weightgain, and chub

Sunstreaker onlines his optics slowly.

The lights in his hab suite felt too bright…Sideswipe must have turned them on when he left this morning.

He slowly heaves himself into a sitting position, his helm pounding and glossa dry as he fumbles for his chronometer to check the time; usually he was far better at getting up on time, and it was him hauling Sideswipe’s aft out of the berth. He looks blankly at his chronometer that was marking him late for Ironhide’s combat sims today, sighing with a smidge of annoyance.

What had happened to him?

Sunstreaker hadn’t been this hungover in a long time, and Primus was he regretting it; Slag, it felt like he had been taking shots of Sideswipe’s 80% distilled high-grade.

A aggravated rumble stutters out from his engine, and Sunstreaker turns over in his berth fully intending to get back to sleep.

Or, at least, he tried to turn over, but a little problem decided to make itself known- or more accurately, a now much bigger problem became apparent as he attempts to roll over onto his belly.

A gasp leaves his derma, and Sunstreaker jolts up and stares disbelievingly down at his usually lithe form… only to find his gut plating removed and his protoform was practically bursting out from between the spaces of his armor.

When had he gotten this fat-?

The frontliner pinches at his now flabby and soft belly, running his digits over the slightly swollen pudge in confusion and horror.

Sunstreaker is a vain mech. Everyone knows that. He takes pride in his appearance and he constantly monitors his fuel intake and plating polish to ensure he looks flawless 24/7.

Sunstreaker thinks back; The last time he had looked like this he had- had… oh. Oh no.

He drags a servo over his face plating, feeling his cheeks flush and familiar tingle and clench from his array. The last time he had gotten this fat was when he caved to his urges and sent a mech down to his tank to digest.

Frag.

He hauls himself off the berth and makes a beeline to the twins' private washrack where Sunstreaker keeps a full-size mirror. He has to resist the urge to address the ping from his array to undo his interface covers at the sight of his newly padded-out frame.

Sunstreaker starts to rub his hand over his stomach and hips, wondering and pinching at the soft mesh, and the subtle jiggle it has. He feels his venting start to become a bit heavier, his hands wandering over his body more.

Sunstreaker is jolted from his lust-addled haze when his cooling fans click on, realizing he should probably figure out who he had eaten and how fragged Ratchet was going to be over having to reform them…

The yellow mech lets out a grumble, vividly imagining the dents he would have to fix on his helm after telling Ratchet. Come to think of it, he probably shouldn’t go see the irate medic while he was feeling this revved up… what harm was there in indulging himself a little right now?

With his processor set, Sunstreaker retreats back to his berth after locking the hab suite door and putting up a block on the twin bond. Nothings as big of a turn off then realizing Sideswipe could feel what was happening.

Fishing under his berth, he slides out a rather sizable bin full of interface toys- zoning in on a massive false spike that had a rather lovely knot. Grabbing it, Sunstreaker settles on the berth, spreading his now chubby thighs apart and finally- finally allowing his interface panels to open.

They retracted in record time, his spike hardened and dribbling pre-fluid while his poor valve was clenching on the air and lubricating already. With a soft groan, Sunstreaker's servos flit down to his array, getting one of his digits slick in the copious amounts of fluid to start rubbing soft circles into his anterior node, with the other servo beginning to stroke and tease his spike tip.

As he plays with himself, his thumb works his anterior node and two digits snake to scissor his valve open, and Sunstreaker can’t find the patience to work himself up to ease the toy in.

With a most definitely not winded noise, he heaves himself into a squatting position above the spike and impales his poor valve over it with a loud grunt. The lewd noise of natural lubricant squelches as he thrusts his hips down, whimpering a bit as the large length stretches his lips wide open over the sizable length.

Sunstreakers mind, however, is desperately thinking back to the drunken haze of last night; imagining the feeling of the mech squirming in his mouth, the taste of them on his glossa as he lightly gnaws on their plating with his canines… he moans softly remembering the way they struggled down his throat and the way it bulged obscenely as he forced their large frame down.

With a sudden groan, he feels himself slip down the false spike's length and reach the apex of its knot, keening as he tries to pop it inside himself. One servo is rubbing along his pudge while the other fervently pumps his spike as his valve is stuffed to the brim- he almost feels as if he’s about to split in half from the knot.

Sunstreaker can vividly remember the feeling of the mech finally squeezing into his tight tank, the sound of them sloshing in with all the high-grade he had consumed intensely satisfying…

Oh, and the sensations…

His gut stretched tight around them as he struggled to stand upright under the weight. He could recall rubbing at his strained belly and hiccuping profusely, too full and drunk to think straight as he had waddled through the Arks halls and back to his hab suite.

He remebered the way they squirmed as he collapsed on his bed, engine purring as he drunkenly cooed sweet nothings to his prey… He could remember they were moaning as he started digesting them, and Sunstreaker had been grinding himself against the berth- he had overloaded hard, easily 3 or 4 times until he had collapsed from exhaustion to digest his meal.

A throaty porn star moan rips from Sunstreakers vocals again, his plating shivering and clanking as he approached his peak.

Overload courses through Sunstreaker's frame, electricity crackling along his plating as his valve ripples and his spike spews pent-up transfluid over his chassis that would make even the lewdest buy-mechs jealous.

In a moment it’s over, and he’s falling back against his berth, cooling fans whining and straining to keep up with the heat flooding his systems.

He's is a panting mess as he sits in a pool of his own transfluid, too content in his afterglow to want to get up and clean himself, shockingly. Instinctively, his hand goes back to the pudge on his middle, squeezing and prodding at it as his engine idles happily.

There's a sudden banging at the door and Sunstreaker bites back a snarl as his interface panels snap shut quickly; Of course, Sideswipe had to ruin his afterglow.

The pitspawn himself was whining at the door, saying something about recharging-?

Begrudgingly the yellow twin eases their bond back open to be hit with an irritating mess of Sideswipe’s tantrum at being locked out.

Primus, he was such a glitch sometimes.

“Sunstreaker, lemme in it’s been fifty thousand vorns- could you quit grinding your panel like a fraggin playbot for a click and open the door?”

Oh and now he’s pissy. And a pissy Sideswipe meant a fragged off Sunstreaker.

The yellow mech gets up, wipes himself and the berth clean of any transfluid to go open the door and- frag.

His middle plating wasn’t on and there was the not so tiny issue of fitting into it...

“Sunstreaker hurry up you slagger!”

Sideswipe bellows from outside the door, giving it another bout of pounding.

Sunstreaker snarls back a retort as he was fighting to fit into his armor.

Sunstreaker finally manages to stuff himself into his armor plating, his gut getting squished slightly within the tight confines. The fit is uncomfortable but better than having his hefty paunch out for everyone to see. There was no way he was going to be able to work all this fat off anytime soon... he could feel it squeezing out from between the gaps in his armor for primus sake.

He opens the hab suite door to be met with Sideswipe.

Sideswipe's engine snarls in irritation when he sees Sunstreaker, getting ready to chew his twin out. The red twin has to do a double take though, eyeing Sunstreaker up and down. He looks him over once more, taking in how chubby his twin appears.

“... Why in Primus’s name are you so fat-?“

There's a heavy (heh) silence, and Sideswipe's face breaks into a slag-eating grin. He knows Sunstreaker far too well.

Sideswipe casually leans against the doorframe while waving a hand at Sunstreakers gut. He knows exactly what happened to his brother last night.

"-Soooo, this whole situation wouldn't happen to have anything to do with you talking Cosmos up last night now, would it..?"

Sunstreaker processer stalls as he takes a second to think about what Sideswipe was implying. If he had digested Cosmos... Ratchet was going to murder him for having to reform Cosmos.

Sunstreaker just stares at Sideswipe, realization slowly turning to horror.

“Ratchet is going to kill me..."

[acourtofmenandthirst]

Ready to Bleed

Eris x Reader - Nightmare trope. From Eris's POV, more of a story on his background but still some soft moments with reader.

Warnings: Torture, mad abuse from Beron, sadness, nakedness (nondescript)

Word Count: 2.9K

His long fingers danced over the young male’s throat, skin bitterly cold despite the flames that trickled from his touch. The sparks skidded along his collar bones, across the curve of his shoulders, and up over the swell in his throat. It wasn’t a new feeling to the boy, the hot fire that died out against his pale flesh - for he, himself wielded that same power.

It wasn’t the fire that scared him, not the flames that burned so bright they nearly blinded him, not the heat that burned through his skin and formed fleshy blisters in its wake, not the smell of his singed hair that turned black at the ends and fell across his shoulders. 

He was used to all that.

What he wasn’t used to was the waiting. The pure agony that the male above him induced as he sneered at his son. The latter male was nearly begging at that point for his punishment, begging for his father to get on with the beating, for reprieve from the chains his father had shackled around his wrists and ankles. He waited patiently up until that part, only until the larger of the two stood above him, eyes crinkled in laughter as he watched the fear form in his son’s eyes.

The sharp blade was held loosely in his hand, a sight not unfamiliar to the younger of the two, proof given by his marred flesh and the marks the knife left as it kissed his soft skin. But his father did not press the cool metal against him, did not drag it up his body nor pierce his derma. Instead, he held his free hand up in the free space between them and reached out for his son. 

Perhaps it was the softness of his touch that scared him, earning a flinch from the normally stoic son. It was those calloused, wartorn fingertips that ran across the marred skin of his throat, over the puckered letters that had been carved into his chest so many times they all blended together. The young male trembled under his touch, dark brows knitted together in confusion as to why he wasn’t strangling him or digging his nails into his skin. 

“My boy,” came his quiet whisper, broken at the back of his throat. “My sweet boy. What have I done to you?” The question went unanswered between them as the father’s knees buckled. His weight against the male’s shoulder, pushing his bare knees further into the gravel he knelt on. 

But Eris could muster no words as he had no other choice but to stare up into his father’s burning golden eyes - the same ones that he bore, that he swore terrified his own mother each time she looked at him. He swallowed that shaky breath and the words - the nasty words he’d been so prepared to unleash against his father, should he ever find the right timing. His father remained leaning against him as his own eyes glazed over with tears. “What have you done to deserve this?”

Still, the son remained silent. He felt the corners of his mouth pull down in a frown, but fought against any tears that threatened to surface. He swallowed the lump in his throat, resisted the twisting in his gut. Nothing - he had done nothing but be an obedient son. His father had beaten everything out of him, all second guesses, all snarky remarks, all independent thought. He was everything his father wanted him to be. 

But he was still a threat. 

Beron fell before his son, on his knees much like the other redheaded male, save for the steel armor that covered each extremity, shielding him from the shards of glass and sharp stone on the dungeon floor. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

Eris saw the shift in those fiery eyes, the glint of metal that shined against his light iris. The knife came up to the base of his neck as his father’s grip tightened, his nails biting into the hard muscle bounding his shoulder. “Why can’t you understand?” He asked himself, staring into his son’s comatose eyes. The younger male couldn’t put up a fight if he wanted to, not with those jagged chains biting into his wrists and ankles, tight against his skin that held him so close to the ground. 

His fire couldn’t save him - not to say he hadn’t tried. Years and years he found himself in the same position with the same knife biting into his flesh. His father’s powers had always been much stronger; he’d been faster and more cunning, all of those years of torture and hunger under his belt. 

The son flinched when his father carved into his chest, the first letter of many more to come. It was a feeling he’d unfortunately grown used to: the feeling of his blood draining from his head and all his extremities, flowing from his broken skin, the shiver that ran down his spine when his body dropped temperature, the itch of the fire in his blood sparking with the metal of that blade. 

C

He wondered what it would be this time. The first had been his father’s name - a testament to his slavery to his father, owned by and ruled over, marked so he would have no other king. 

O

He had struggled to read the many other letters that laced his chest, all carved over the not-yet-healed name. ‘Bastard,’ ‘Traitor,’ ‘Failure,’ ‘Worthless,’ ‘Fool,’ ‘Dirty.’ Eris couldn’t remember all of them, didn’t know what the half of them meant, even. 

But he took the brunt of it silently, especially when it meant he could spare his brothers from the same treatment. Even if that meant Eris suffered their punishment for them. 

W

There was ‘Autumn’ - a threat to if he escaped to seek refuge in another court. 

That was just after Lucien had left. 

A

He swore he could hear his mother screaming. She wasn’t watching - gods, he actually wasn’t sure if she was or wasn’t. He wouldn’t put it past his father: to have his mother chained up in the corner and watch as he mutilated their eldest son. She’d seen the aftermath plenty of times, and Eris was too afraid to ask what kinds of scars she bore under her long sleeves and heavy dresses. 

R

She had begged to bargain with him - to take away his pain, to let her feel all the agony instead of him. With each knife stroke across his chest, she’d feel the splitting skin and cold metal in his veins, all he’d have to do was sit there and take it; to heal himself and prepare for the next time. He didn’t even know if the Mother would allow such a cruel deal to be made. He was sure that if Beron saw any indication of bargain on either of their skin, he’d cut it clean off. 

D

But all Eris had to do was shake her hand. 

He awoke with a start, clutching the once torn flesh of his skin, nothing but bumps and raised scars, no blood, no knife, no fire. 

He could barely feel his heart racing through the thick skin, healed over again and again and again, the disgusting manner in which it healed as he held his broken skin together at night, sobbing, betting the Mother for the reprieve of sweet death. It was a dream that never came true, one he was grateful for in his matured age. He lived in a future he would have never thought possible for himself, safe in his bedroom with his mate sleeping peacefully beside him. 

But despite your undisturbed form, still unwoken and unbothered, the pit of despair raged in his stomach, the twisting of his gut in anticipation like his father ought to burst through the door right then and there. He still felt the gravel biting at his knees and the sharp metal blade piercing his skin. He still looked over his shoulder, especially in those times he found himself changing his fathers politics, going against the Autumnal tradition. 

Eris shifted, sitting up against the headboard and letting the thin white sheet pool in his lap. His legs were tangled in the linen, damp with sweat, sticking to his skin, irritating the everloving shit out of him. With a huff, he dropped his hands in his lap, let his head fall back against the heavy wood of the headboard, and glared across the room. 

It was mocking him. 

The crown that sat perched so perfectly on his desk, that you had so carelessly plucked off his head and cast aside last night. So fed up with his evenings spent working late, you had sat him down at the desk and removed his jacket, his many layers of dark shirts, boots, trousers - all of it. Lain completely bare in front of his mate. Last to go was his crown, not laid to rest on the desk until he moved to take you on the bed. 

What happened next had a smile pulling at the High Lord’s lips. 

But he glared at that piece of metal, still angry at the dream - the memory - that crawled its way up from the depths of his steel trap mind. The golden diadem glinted in the moonlight, the same color as his father’s eyes. He was afraid that once he put it on, he’d turn into him. The day of his coronation, as soon as the priestess laid the cast metal atop his head, he’d become as savage and bloodthirsty as its previous wearer. 

He’d ordered all portraits of Beron removed from the throne room. The walls remained desolate for the young male’s coronation, the marble and wood scrubbed clean of all trace of the treacherous High Lord. Eris refused to have his portrait painted - adorned in his crown, cape, and armor - until yours and his mother’s had been painted (maybe even his brothers’ if he was in the generous mood). 

Your cold hand on his thigh drew him from his daze, snapping his attention down to the bed. You ran cold, what with the windows left open from earlier in the evening, thin white curtains snaking through the dark room with the breeze. The moonlight fell across your bare shoulders, showcasing the goosebumps that crawled over your arms. 

With your other hand, you pulled at the light sheets, fishing around for the heavy duvet at your waist. “What’s the matter, my love?” 

Eris fell in love all over again each time he heard your voice. It didn’t matter if you were yelling at him, murmuring to him over a warm cup of tea in your hands, speaking to your courtiers, crying out his name in prayer, or just whispering to him in the dead of night, voice hoarse and tired, his heart swelled at the very sound. 

His red eyes raked over your form, cocooned in the warm blankets, the same ones that were nearly suffocating him. You wouldn’t have a need for them any other night, the fire roaring in Eris’s blood normally kept you warm enough. “Bad dream is all.” He shrugged, dropping his palm over the back of your hand, sending ropes of warmth into your skin. 

You frowned, moving to prop yourself on your elbow beside him. Eris studied you, how you rubbed away the sleep from your eyes and half sat up beside him, propping your head against the side of his chest. Your arm wrapped around his waist, thrown lazily over his abdomen, fingers grazing the healed scars as you moved. 

There was once a time Eris was embarrassed and ashamed of his body, the scars that told the story of his past. He had to forego the random lovers and nights of passion that he knew his brothers so often indulged in. He never swam in the river and wrestled with the other Autumn males - not in the way his brothers so carelessly lived. 

Eris held your hands in front of his chest, the thin white fabric of his loose shirt hiding even the most prominent scars. He kissed your palms before pressing them against his thrumming heart. 

The mating bond had hit him like a slap in the face. And despite every best effort to get to know you, to slowly introduce you into the fucked up world that was his life, he couldn’t bear being away from you. He’d done all but everything else to postpone your first evening alone. But when you had laid yourself bare on the bed before him, the male couldn’t resist. 

You knew who his father was, he had told you stories and you, undoubtedly, had heard worse in the streets of the Autumn Court. It wasn’t until you’d see with your own eyes, that he feared he hadn’t prepped you enough. No words could described the torture he put Eris through, physically or mentally. But as his mate you vowed to be with him - you wouldn’t leave him no matter how many scars he had or how many nights he spent thrashing in his sleep. 

The Mother had already given him a father who didn’t love him, it wouldn’t be unheard of if his mate didn’t either. 

But you spoke up, in that soft voice of yours, just above a whisper. “Show me your thorns and I’ll show you hands ready to bleed.”

Eris loosed a breath and kissed your palms once more, letting you go so he could pull off his shirt. You’d already seen the scar just under the knot in his throat, the thick puckered skin that poked out just above the collar of his jackets, from under the turtleneck sweaters he so often sported. It moved with each breath, his pale skin uncomfortably stretched around the slit in his throat. 

“I’m afraid you might lose too much blood,” he said dryly, just a mutter under his breath. But your eyes were already gone, as he shrugged his shirt off and your gaze was drawn to the newly exposed expanse of his chest. 

Your hand raised in the gap between you, closing the space as your finger traced the marks presented before you. Those words that were engraved in his skin that marred into nothing but lines. Only Eris knew what had been written into him - in the hundreds of years that’d had passed, he could barely even remember, himself. 

But Eris could be free around you, no hiding his body nor his past. He wasn’t ashamed of his nightmares anymore, only more annoyed than anything - from just remembering how his father treated him. And despite your kind words, your reassurance in your love for him, Eris still couldn't shake the vile feeling that seeped into his skin each time he thought of his father. 

You’d memorized every mark on his body, though. Every freckle, every birthmark, the curve of his lips, the hard muscle of each of his thighs - all of it, scars included. You were nearly sick the first night Eris undressed, the thought of sex was so far gone when you finally took in the male shaking before you. His hands that had gone cold in nervousness and cheeks drained of all color in anticipation. Even in your wildest dreams you couldn’t imagine a father carving those heinous words into his son’s chest. 

Eris was littered with scars and burns, such a juxtaposition to the beautiful male, so poised and proper, with a face and body gifted from the Mother herself. But layer after layer, he was marked. Scared so deeply that he struggled to breathe under the thick skin. 

“Do you remember what I said to you? That night you laid me down in your bed at the cabin?” The corners of Eris’s lips pulled up at the memory. While Eris lacked certain freedoms of who he loved and when - still pitifully controlled by his father - there was something about running away with you, having the freedom to spend the night with you hidden away in the cabin, that Eris craved. He’d been swept away into a dutiful life once his father had died, he missed those little moments when you two were simply mates and not High Lord and Lady. When you both could simply disappear and someone else could make all the decisions, run the court, deal with the courtiers. 

Eris nodded, slinging his arm around your back, fingers dancing against your shoulder blade, drawing small circles against your warming skin. The words were silently exchanged between the two of you, one of Eris’s favorite memories of you - when you so openly welcomed his trauma into your arms, wrapped him up against your side and let the male truly release the crushing weight he’d been holding all his life. 

You shifted, shoving the blankets away from you and pushing yourself from the mattress. You swung a leg over his lap, settling on the expanse of his lean thighs, dropping your hands against his abdomen. He gazed down at you with half lidded eyes, his own hands falling to rest at your hips. Eris hummed, waiting for you to bury your face in his neck, the way you so often did.

“You don’t belong to anyone, Eris,” you breathed, staring up at your mate. 

He pressed his lips together, expression unwavering. Never the one to sulk, Eris reached for your hands, holding them open in front of your chest. 

He kissed your palms, the hands that had bled for him in the many nights spent like this. “I belong to you,” he confessed, voice low yet unwavering.

Unable to disagree with your High Lord, you nodded in confirmation, grasping his fingers in yours as your hand fell to his chest, to those scars so long ago etched into his skin. You traced the letters slowly, drawn out so he would know what you spelt against his flesh. 

M I

N

E

[stickytrigger69]

Could I request a mtmte/lost light Rodimus with a Cybertronian reader that has two spikes instead of just one? Rodimus doesn’t find out until the last minute or something

MTMTE Rodimus x GN Cybertronian Reader

Reader is gender neutral

Bot instead of mech or femme

Readers frame type, height, paint job, etc are unspecified

Reader has two spikes

NSFW minors DNI!

This was a cool one, had fun writing this one lol 🤭 hope it came out good

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"So Rodimus," Drifts voice pulls the red mech from his thoughts, "How's the ritus stuff coming along?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's uh, yknow," He takes a sip of his drink, trying to play it cool, "it's coming." He shrugs and leans back in his seat, trying to look relaxed. One arm reaches up and rests on the back of the seat.

"Oh yeah?" Drift takes a drink from his own glass, a knowing smile etched onto his sharp face. "So, are they catching on or?"

"Yeah, yeah, they're in the know, I mean, I told them, and they're, well." Rodimus looks up from his glass and spots a familiar frame. Unique paint job and smooth armor plating, strong and well kept. His spark pulses with adoration, and he knows that Drift is giving him that look again, one that he picked up from Wing. The red mech chuckles to himself and shakes his helm, raising his glass to his derma. His eyes flick to the white mech sitting with him, and he is right, that old bolt munching grin that makes his chuckles evolve into laughter.

"Well?" Drifts tone is scandalous at best, an optic ridge raised skeptically as he prods at his red and orange companion who only shakes his head again and downs the rest of his drink.

"Well, it's none of your business." His glass hits the table with a clunk. His sharp friend laughs at him but drops it, knowing it's better to just leave him be and that even Rodimus gets bashful like any other bot. From his peripheral, he sees Whirl approach you and feels his tanks spin, his smile vanishing so fast that Drift worries for a moment and looks in your direction. As soon as the thin blue mech is in sight, Drift lets out another laugh, Whirl is one of your closer friends, and it bothers Rodimus so much that Drift can't help himself.

Ratchet finally shows up, though, and Drift excuses himself for just a moment, or so he says, leaving Rodimus on his own at the table to watch his intended be poked at by a pair of claws. Whirl is a rather extraordinary mech who doesn't seem to have much of an understanding of personal space and privacy, so Rodimus can only guess that the mech is asking less than savory questions. His suspicions and anxiety only increase when Whirl looks directly at him, waving a claw around, his orange optic changing shape every once in a while. You and Whirl had boarded the ship as strangers, but over time, that changed, and it changed drastically. Wherever you were, Whirl was sure to be close by. If either of you needed the other, they were suddenly present, and it actually made some of the other crew a little nervous. Including Rodimus.

Whirl's clingy and protective nature when it came to you is hardly much of a challenge though, he's been toughing it out pretty well so far, not allowing Whirl the benefit of the doubt. He won't let the Whirly bird intimidate him. He won't back down. Whirl does respect him for that, but like the pit is he going to stop trying to bully him down and away from his friend.

"But (designation), are you sure it's what you want? Look at him at his reputation. Damn, look at yours!" He shouts at you, arms waving around haphazardly before motioning to you.

"Yes, it is what I want, and I don't care about any of that either. I'm sure he wouldn't have started the ritus if he wasn't worried about it either." You argue.

"But (designation)," He leans toward you, optic squinted skeptically, "what if he's only doing it because of your reputation?" His inquisition makes you scoff.

"No one knows Whirl, no one except you." You take a small sip of your drink.

"You haven't told Ratchet either?" He points at the doctor standing at the bar. Is he really the only bot on this ship that knows?

"No, Whirl, so just drop it, would you." You slump down into your seat, watching the liquid swirl around in your glass. Whirl is silent for a while before perking up again.

"You already did the act of disclosure, though, right?" He asks at a fast pace, the question making you groan at him. Rodimus sees you're upset, and before he can stand up, Swerve comes up to him and strikes up conversation while he refills Rodimus' glass.

"What's it like performing the ritus? I know it's really none of my business, but I've never really experienced it myself, and I'm just a little curious about what it's like to devote yourself to someone and have them reciprocate." The little red mech asks curiously, though Rodimus would usually reply shortly to the little mech he takes in a deep breath and thinks about your smile when he started the first step in the ritual. He had started with an act of selflessness and kindness towards you, and you happily accepted and returned his kindness with your own.

"Well, Swerve, it's reassuring." He smiles at the mini who beams his own up at him.

"That sounds amazing, I hope I can find that someday. I hope I can find a bot I want to spend my life with, especially after we save cybertron. Have you almost completed the ritus? Oh, sorry, that's private-" He scrambles to apologize for overstepping his boundaries, but Rodimus can only chuckle.

"Yes, actually, all that's left is the Act of Imtimacy, and I'm waiting for them to initiate it." He looks back at your slouched form, no doubt pouting at the blue mech in front of you.

"Oh, that's nice, good luck, I wish for the best for the both of you." With another smile, Swerve leaves him to tend to the other patrons in his bar.

"Thanks." His voice barely above a whisper as he swirls his drink around in his glass.

"No, you're damned leaker, you're not going to finish the ritus. You're too scared." Whirl teases you.

"You want to bet?" You're upset, just what he wanted.

"Hahaha, not really, you have bad luck." He states smugly. Your mouth is agape, but you quickly recover. You only have one last thing to do, shouldnt be too hard. You've completed the Act of Disclosure or opening up about something extremely private, the Act of Profferance. You gave him a piece of memorabilia, something small from your past that meant the world to you. And the Act of Devotion, you have actually been continuously performing this Act, giving all you had to the dear mech, thus leaving the Act of Intimacy.

"Yeah, whatever." You sit up and turn to get up but then are met with uncertainty. Your brow ridge furrows, and you look at your glass of energy. You're feeling nervous when Whirl's claw clenches down on your shoulder to reassure you.

"I'm only going to say this once and never again." You wait patiently for him to continue, but he never says anything and just stands pulling you to your pedes. He spins you around and pushes you towards the captain. Rodimus sees you falling and immediately jumps up and reaches out for you. Servos connect, digits tangling together, and you are face to face with your soon-to-be conjunx. Both of you look to where Whirl had once been standing, the blue bot having quickly fled after throwing you across the room; again.

"Hi." Rodimus is looking at you, a sweet, suave smile on his face. His hot breath gently brushes your face, and you feel your frame heat up, face flushing as your innermost energon courses through your cheeks.

"H-hi." You stutter out, a dopey smile spreading on your face.

"You been drinking a lot?" He asks as his servo brushes against your cheek, his optics focusing in on your derma.

"No, not really. Just started honestly." Your cheeky reply makes his smile widen. He wants to play along and use the same tone with you, but he can't seem to move his derma. When did you get so close?

*thump thump*

His spark suddenly ignites and beats heavily in its chamber. Now it is his turn to flush, cheeks heating and optics blown wide. You're kissing him in front of everyone, no less. Your servo tightens around his, holding on for dear life, your field pulses slightly with anxiety. Rodimus smirks into the kiss. You're so cute, so timid. He loves it so so much that he sends out his own waves of love to soothe your anxiety. You are now, rightfully, conjunx endurae, and it's so overwhelming that you can feel your spark exploding with all of your emotions of yourself and Rodimus.

Everything after the first kiss has gone smoothly. You have taken your things, and he's taken his, and you've moved into a bigger room together. Things have been moving slowly in terms of physical affection, but Roddy doesn't mind it much. At least it wouldn't bother him at all if you'd just let him play with you the same way you do with him.

You give his spike and valve lots of attention, and as much as he enjoys it, he wants to make you feel good, too, but you always get nervous when his servo is anywhere near your panel. He almost thinks you don't really want to be with him and that you're only playing him, and it makes him worry. He starts thinking about it too much that he is sent to your hab earlier by Magnus, surprising and confusing you. He's upset, but he won't tell you why or anything, so you just hold him close to your chest and rub his back lovingly. And somehow, he just gets more frustrated.

He pushes you away and sits up to look down on you, a frown plastered on his face.

"Why?" He asks.

"What?" You're so confused.

"Why won't you let me in? Why can't you just let me see you?" You frown, mouth agape and confusion on your cute face, and it makes him more upset.

"Huh? Rod-" He starts burning up and interrupts you.

"You know what I mean! Don't play dumb with me! Why won't you let me have your spike or valve, or at least let me see!?" Your face starts to flush.

"I -" You start but are interrupted by an angry grunt as Rodimus grabs your waist with one servo and your tribulen with the other.

"What do I have to do to make you want this? Is this what I have to do?" He starts to push your tribulen up and to the side so he can move to sit in between your legs.

"Roddy!!" You exclaim, feeling nervous with the new position he has you in. You're at his mercy, and it kind of scares you but also excites you, and that starts freaking you out even more. He can't know, he isn't going to like it and it's horrifying.

"I can tell you're scared, but I also feel that you like it, you're eager. Did I have to take charge so you would want this?" He smirks, inching your pelvis closer and closer to one another. Your spark pounds against your chassis, and your cooling system boots up.

'Stop him!' You scold yourself.

The servo that was on your tribulen trails up to tease at your panel, and that is when you shoot up, accidentally headbutting him in the process.

"Ouch!" He cries and rubs his helm.

"Oh, I'm sorry," your face is so hot and dark with embarrassment, "I just, I can't! Roddy, we can't. I -"

"What?! Why not?! What's scaring you so badly?" He shouts at you at first but turns soft when he feels your field and sees your face. "Don't you trust me?"

Your breath is caught in your throat. You do trust him with your life, but this is. It's big. You're worried about what he'll think of you after you open yourself up to him and let down this last wall. Figuratively and literally. You think for a few, looking down, then back at him, back into his blue optics, such pretty blue optics. The ones that belong to the sweetest thing in the universe, the one who was pure and worthy enough of primehood. Coolant builds in your optics and you nod your head.

"I trust you so much." You mutter.

"Then let me." He smiles sweetly, his servo lightly touching your panel. All you can do is nod at him. His smile widens, and he leans in to give you a kiss before laying you back down. When he rises back up and sees you beneath him, his spark swells in its chamber. He gives you the courtesy to go slow and trade you a bit, thinking you're just nervous because you've never done this before. His digits skillfully rub and punch and explore your frame, hooking and digging blissfully into transformation seams and other sensitive crevices.

You let out a sweet whine when a digit presses against an inner cable hidden in your tribulen. The attention he's giving you feels so good, but you're scared of what kind of attention you'll receive when your panel slips away. You tense up a bit, and he coos at you, bringing a servo up to cup your cheek. You close your optics and take a deep breath. When you open your eyes, you allow your panel to open to him, and for a long moment, there is nothing. He doesn't move or make a sound, and you're ready to get up and get out before you see his face.

He is in awe, cheeks flushed, and no doubt hot to the touch. His servo hovers above your pelvis, hesitant to touch you. He looks up into your optics and makes you feel like hiding away from him. You put your servos up on your face, looking at him through the gaps between your digits.

"Primus." He whispers. "This is what you were hiding?" You close the gaps in your digits. "Frag..." He goes quiet. With a gasp, you prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him. He has one spike in each of his servos. He lacks the tip of one and rubs circles on the underside of the other. He goes from one spike to the other, licking and sucking on them.

"Roddy." You whimper, and in turn, he sucks a spike all the way into his mouth and to the back of his throat. You throw your helm back, and one of his servos rubs up your torso to push down on your chest. Your spike leaves his mouth with a lewd pop, and he sits up on his knees to hover above you.

"Primus, I think you're beautiful. Thank you for sharing with me." A smirk paints his face while a servo still lingers on your spikes, trying to hold both in the same servo. "You think with some practice I'd be able to take them both at the same time?" You groan at the thought, face darkening and heating up. Your optics are locked in a stare. He can feel you relax through your EM field. He rubs the head of one of them against his valve folds and his anterior node. The tip teases his hole, and he groans before he starts to lower himself on it. The biolights and ridges rubbing against and filling him up perfectly.

When he finally takes you all the way in, he can feel the tip of your spike prodding at his interior node. With a shudder, he starts lifting himself back up only to lower himself back down. Your spike feels so good. In no time, he's bouncing vigorously on your spike. The other rubbing against his aft stimulating you both even more. Rodimus feels like he can't take it, you feel so good, and the noises you're making just add to it.

"I love you, (designation), I love you so much." He whines. You are so smitten by him. He looks beautiful from this angle, and how tight his valve is around your spike is driving you crazy.

"I, I love you. I love you so much." Your servos hold his hips, and you start to buck up into him. With every thrust upward, you use more power, hitting his interior node each time.

"Oh, yes, please, (designation), frag me good!" Rodimus cries. His begging spurs you on and makes you thrust harder and faster. You are driving him crazy. You really know how to use your spike. It doesn't take very long for him to cry out, overloading on your spike, mesh walls constricting around your spike as he rides it out. A few grinds of his hips and you're overloading too. Spike filling him up and the other spurting on his lower back.

"Scrap, shoulda had one in front of me instead, coulda caught some 'o that." He sticks his glossa out, making you chuckle.

"Oh, really now?" Your tone is playful.

"Hehe, yeah, actually." He lifts himself up, transfluid spilling from his valve. "Frag, you've made me a mess," His servo swoops down, digits gathering the fluids, "you up for round two?"

"Oh, um, well." You chuckle nervously.

"I want your valve this time. See how much of a mess you can make on yourself." He leans down to peck your derma. "Your plating's already outta the way," His digits covered in your fluids rub against your own valve, "whatta ya say?" With a moan, you nod.

"Atta boy!" He exclaims, spreading your tribulen apart. You feel like you probably should have told him the truth sooner.

[rawmeknockout]

Hey bestie im here i will be blessing you with a few requests but uhh to start give me some of that jet/skyfire gentle love making content with a bot reader who is smaller than him <3 -🔥

No doubt if Skyfire's arms weren't securely holding you in place, you would be sliding up the berth with every thrust. His huge frame an unmatched force compared to your own. It's hard to even remember why you had been so wary of him at the beginning, this gentle giant of a mech seeming so harmless to you now. You've even watched him hesitate on many an occasion to injure Decepticons. His huge frame curls over you, a question mark, molding himself around you like plasticine. Skyfire cradles you to his chassis, ensuring you fully take his spike when he thrusts into you. Slow and deep. Derma hovering over your own. Chassis bearing down on you with only a fraction of his weight.

You in-vent the same air, fans churning in the near silence of your habsuite, frames sharing more than space. Barely a moan escapes your gasping mouth, frame far too focused on feeling. Charge from exposed lines pops and flickers and hops over to your body, getting lost in your intermeshed EM fields. While his optics are closed, brow pinched as he savors the feeling of your frame under and around him, your optics trace every feature that you've devoured thousands of times before. You know the feel of that jawline, those cheeks, under your servos. You can feel them even in recharge. Yet your digits still long to touch, itch for the feel of him pressed to you. You've a voracious appetite for Skyfire, hunger for him, long for him like nothing else. Your servos dig into his back, his hips, legs twisting to pull him ever deeper.

His spike pressing insistent against nodes within your valve doesn't begin to quell the heat in your lines.