#pulse valve

[aboveaveragexx]

How a Pulse Valve Works: A Comprehensive Guide

A pulse valve is a type of valve that uses a pulsing action to open and close. Pulse valves are often used in applications where a high degree of control is needed, such as in medical or industrial settings.

Pulse valves can be used to control the flow of liquids or gases, and can be used to regulate pressure or vacuum. Pulse valves can be either manual or automatic, and can be controlled by a variety of means, such as by a solenoid, a diaphragm, or a piezoelectric element.

Pulse valves are often used in applications where a high degree of control is needed, such as in medical or industrial settings. Pulse valves can be used to control the flow of liquids or gases, and can be used to regulate pressure or vacuum. Pulse valves can be either manual or automatic, and can be controlled by a variety of means, such as by a solenoid, a diaphragm, or a piezoelectric element.

Introduction

Pulse valves are one of the most important components in many industries, yet they often go unnoticed. These valves are used to regulate the flow of liquids and gases and can be found in a variety of applications, from car washes to irrigation systems.

Pulse valves work by opening and closing at high speeds, typically between 10-500 times per second. This allows for very precise control of the flow rate, which is important in many industrial applications.

There are two main types of pulse valves: solenoid and diaphragm. Solenoid pulse valves have a coil that is activated by an electric current, which opens and closes the valve. Diaphragm pulse valves have a rubber diaphragm that is opened and closed by a pneumatic or hydraulic actuator.

Pulse valves are used in a variety of industries, including water treatment, automotive manufacturing, food and beverage processing, and pharmaceuticals. They are also used in many consumer products, such as coffee makers and dishwashers.

What is a pulse valve and how does it work? 

A pulse valve is a type of valve that uses a pulsating flow of fluid to open and close. The pulsating flow can be created by a variety of means, such as an electric motor, a solenoid, or a pneumatic cylinder. When the flow is turned on, the valve opens and allows fluid to pass through. When the flow is turned off, the valve closes and prevents fluid from passing through.

Pulse valves are often used in applications where a large amount of force is needed to open and close the valve, such as in hydraulic systems. They are also used in applications where precise control over the opening and closing of the valve is required, such as in medical devices.

How to choose the right pulse valve for your application 

When choosing a pulse valve, there are several factors to consider, such as the type of fluid being used, the desired flow rate, the required pressure, and the operating environment.

The type of fluid being used is an important consideration because some fluids are more corrosive than others. For example, if you are using a pulse valve to control the flow of water, you will need to choose a valve that is resistant to corrosion.

The required pressure is also an important consideration. If you need high pressure, you will need to choose a valve with a strong spring. If you need low pressure, you will need to choose a valve with a weak spring.

Finally, the operating environment is also an important consideration. For example, if the pulse valve will be exposed to extreme temperatures, you will need to choose a valve that is designed for that environment.

The benefits of using a pulse valve 

Pulse valves offer several benefits over other types of valves, including:

1. Pulse valves can be used in a wide variety of applications where precise control over the flow of fluid is required.

2. Pulse valves can handle fluids with high pressures and rates of flow.

3. Pulse valves are less likely to leak than other types of valves.

4. Pulse valves require less maintenance than other types of valves.

5. Pulse valves are available in a wide range of sizes and styles to suit any application.

The types of pulse valves

Pulse valves come in a variety of shapes and sizes, each designed for a specific application. The most common type of pulse valve is the diaphragm valve, which uses a rubber diaphragm to open and close the valve. Diaphragm valves are often used in applications where a large amount of force is needed to open and close the valve, such as in water pumps and air compressors. Another common type of pulse valve is the solenoid valve, which uses an electromagnet to open and close the valve. Solenoid valves are often used in applications where precise control over the opening and closing of the valve is required, such as in medical equipment and computerized control systems.

Pulse valves can also be classified by their mechanism of operation. The most common type of pulse valve is the reciprocating type, which uses a piston to open and close the valve. Reciprocating pulse valves are often used in applications where a large amount of force is needed to open and close the valve, such as in hydraulic systems. Another type of pulse valve is the rotary type, which uses a rotating disk to open and close the valve. Rotary pulse valves are often used in applications where precise control over the opening and closing of the valve is required, such as in fuel injectors.

Pulse valves can also be classified by their construction. The most common type of pulse valve is the single-piece construction, which uses only one piece to construct the entire valve. Single-piece construction pulse valves are often used in applications where simplicity is desired, such as in household plumbing fixtures. Another type of pulse valve is the multi-piece construction, which uses multiple pieces to construct the valve. Multi-piece construction pulse valves are often used in applications where durability is desired, such as in industrial machinery.

How to troubleshoot a pulse valve

If you are having trouble with your pulse valve, there are a few things you can do to troubleshoot the problem. First, check to see if the power is turned on. If the power is off, turn it on and see if the valve opens. If the power is on and the valve still does not open, check to see if there is an obstruction in the path of the fluid. If there is an obstruction, remove it and see if the valve opens. If the valve still does not open, check to see if the diaphragm is damaged. If the diaphragm is damaged, replace it and see if the valve opens. Finally, if none of these solutions work, contact a professional for help.

[howdoesone]

How does one manage airway and breathing in critically ill or injured patients?

Managing the airway and ensuring adequate breathing is a critical aspect of caring for critically ill or injured patients. In emergency medical services (EMS), prompt and effective airway management can significantly impact patient outcomes. This article will discuss the essential steps and considerations in managing the airway and breathing in critically ill or injured patients. Continue reading…

[luveline]

Sorry if you’ve done this already, but if you’re taking Spencer Reid requests I would love to see one where his wife is struggling with morning sickness and he takes care of her. He has all the medical facts on deck and is the sweetest. 😊

“Morning sickness is super common.” A hand on your back. “It’s not known what the cause is, but they think it has something to do with low blood sugar.” He rubs your shoulder. Fingers spread, a slow side to side. “Because your hormones are changing rapidly, the body isn’t as efficient in processing your blood sugar.“ 

“Spence,” you say, breathing hard with your face in a toilet bowl, “that doesn’t make me feel any better.” 

“What about if I told you that it’s worse with twins?” 

It’s interesting.

You’re not having the most exciting of pregnancies. Some people get pregnant and feel that connection to the baby instantly, their foetus the size of a strawberry and somehow a whole world. 

So far yours just makes you sick. “I think there’s something wrong with me.” 

“Probably not.” 

Spencer hoists you back from the bowl. He clambers off of his knees to close the lid, flush, and turn to the sink where he washes his hands. You put a hand on the lid, not so sure you’re finished throwing up, but Spencer tends to know. He’s a good guess. 

“Here, dove,” he says softly, offering a face towel wet with warm water. 

He tried to wipe your face down himself last time and you couldn’t hide how much you didn’t want him to do that. He’s kind, and the gesture is sweet, but you’re feeling less human than ever lately. An in depth analysis of your face isn’t in the books for him. 

You hold the towel in both hands and drop your head. 

“Let me help you up.” 

“I’m gonna just live here, actually.”

“I don’t think so. You’re too cute to live on the floor,” Spencer says, not even slightly ironic, “you have to live in bed like every other adorable woman.” 

“I don’t feel adorable.” 

“You wouldn’t. Your organs are moving and your skin is stretching, and the valves in your veins are becoming fatigued.” 

“Awesome.” 

Spencer holds both arms out to you and helps you stand. Your head pulses, forcing you to rest your head against Spencer’s arm for a few seconds while you come around properly. 

“You’ve never been this beautiful, though,” Spencer says softly, “you really do glow.” 

“Thanks,” you say, your laugh muffled in his shirt. 

“It’s because your blood flow has increased all over your body. Maybe. It’s probably just because you’re you and you’re having our baby and…” Spencer lets his head drop gently atop your own. “You know. You’re the loveliest woman I’ve ever met.”

“Even when I’m sick as a dog?” you ask. 

“At all times… you know what I said earlier, about your blood flow? You know what else that causes?” 

You bring your arms up to curl them protectively behind his neck. He takes your waist. “What?” you ask his neck. 

“Your heart doubles in size.” 

“That happened when I met you.” 

“I think being pregnant has made you flirt more,” Spencer says fondly. 

“Nope. Just a side effect of all these certified Reid facts.” You know what he’s doing, distracting you from your nausea with other things. It’s working slowly, and you appreciate the effort. You might not feel a big connection yet to your baby, but you never feel alone.  

[reudoengineering]

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[ghost-of-a-dream-girl]

Vampiric vascular access PSA from your friendly neighbourhood fanfic writing medic: Where To Bite

For those of you who, like me, love to write/read this sad vampire (or indeed anyone who likes to write any vampire), there were just a couple of sexy little anatomy things that I wanted to highlight (purely for fun).

First: arteries vs veins - Arteries take blood at pressure generated by the left ventricle of the heart, hence the pulse, to tissues and organs. Veins are a low pressure system that take blood back to the heart (via all sorts of mechanisms like valves, suction pressure from inspiration, pressure gradients, etc). - The inherent not-quite-sexy risk to puncturing/bleeding from an artery (especially a big one) is the risk of clot formation and with that the risk that those clots travel (embolize) further down the artery. This can result in things like strokes or ischaemic limbs. - Major arteries have associated major veins running nearby them. - Because of pressure differences, arterial punctures can spurt blood out, whereas veins ooze. To drink from a vein you'd have to apply a little more suction, whereas drinking from an artery might be a bit more messy/squirty. - Sure, veins don't pulse in the way arteries do BUT the way that we find these big veins (without ultrasound) is via use of anatomical landmarks. Your fave vampire will likely know those landmarks. Durge will likely also know these landmarks...for other reasons.

The neck (the classic, and everyone's favourite) - One of the things we look for as part of a fluid status assessment/CVS exam is the JVP (jugular venous pressure), which reflects pressure changes in the right atrium. For this we look for the double waveform pulse on either side of the neck coming from the internal jugular vein. It's not really palpable in the way arterial pulses are, but it is visible in most people (especially at neck turned 45 degrees). - The internal jugular vein (IJV) AND the external jugular vein are the two chunky veins of the neck. The IJV in particular would be a good one to bite for the same reason it's often a favourite vein to use for central line insertion- it's large, superficial, and usually pretty straight in its course within the neck. - The carotids are the major arteries of the neck, sitting more in the midline and protected a bit by a muscle there (sternocleidomastoid).

The inner thigh (the smut writer's favourite) - Gods know that the femorals have been doing some heavy lifting in vampire smut fics. Given the fact that they are located on either side of the groin, any biting action there has the inference of a lot more physical intimacy. - Like the neck vessels, you have big arteries AND big veins in the femoral region too. You have the femoral arteries which lie again more in the centre (like the carotids), and you have the femoral veins which actually lie more medially (more towards the mid-line of the body, i.e further in on the groin). These then branch out. - For purposes of vampiric vascular access, the femoral veins would be just a bit easier to get into position wise, but they do run very close to the femoral arteries. Because of how anatomy and fat distribution works also worth mentioning that the femoral vein and artery also lie a little deeper, so would require a much deeper bite.

Peripheral pulses (for those little nibbles) - For a quick snack more peripherally, it's going to be much easier to chomp into a peripheral artery. Arteries have thicker, more muscular walls than veins and the more superficial veins get the flimsier they are (i.e would be bitches to try to puncture with fangs). - We often sample arterial blood by puncturing the radial arteries. The radial artery runs on the thumb side of the wrist, and is very easy to palpate! - One could also attempt the brachial arteries, which are just above the inside of either elbow. A little deeper, but still palpable. - For the more adventurous bloodsuckers, you could even go for the dorsalis pedis (top of the foot), or the posterior tibial (below and behind the innermost part of the ankle bone)! See below: Astarion sampling a little of that radial artery juice

Aftercare (for the bitten) - If you are biting an artery or big vein you will usually need to apply some pressure to stop the bleeding. - In terms of clotting, it depends on what magical properties you believe vampire spit has. If none, it generally takes a few minutes to stop bleeding with a bit of added pressure, but bigger puncture sites may take longer. - That said, all bleeding stops eventually in one way or another- just ask Durge. - Like always, after a big drink you may need to ask your cleric friend to help you out with a cheeky lesser restoration spell to stimulate erythropoeisis so you're not wandering around the Realms so deeply anaemic.

Happy biting, friends!

[funkygroovejam]

I figured out how to capture a video--finally!

I saw the movie Personal Shopper last night. Kristen Stewart is the main character. There is a scene where she is lying down on her left side, bare chested, receiving an echocardiogram. The doctor mentions her mitral valve [the doc mentions her left ventricle, not her mitral. My bad. Also, you can see her pulse in her neck--HOT!], and has the probe pressed to her mitral. We see what is supposed to be her beating heart, for a few seconds. My thoughts were that if you are going so far as to have a real ultrasound machine, a real cardiac probe, and real knowledge to place the probe in the right location, why not give Miss Stewart an in-real-time echocardiogram? Why let us see a stored image of some random person’s heart beating? Us cardiophiles want to see her heart beating. I bet she has a nice pump in there. Perhaps it was her actual heart beating. I like to imagine that it was. It sure does make that scene sooooo much better.

[ninibeingdelulu]

heyy could you write any headcannons you have in mind about Levi in a “relationship” with one of his female scout? Whatever you have in mind cuz i like the way you picture him

headcanons ft. levi ackerman

a/n: hii ty for requesting I LOVE this

At first, dating humanity's strongest and most renowned soldier feels utterly surreal. You go through bouts of imposter syndrome wondering how someone as incredible as Captain Levi could desire an ordinary scout like yourself.

His icy demeanor and prickly standoffishness in public make it easy to forget the softer side he only allows you to witness behind closed doors.

Levi is an incredibly private person, so keeping your blossoming relationship on the down-low is a must around the scout regiment.

No overt PDA or unprofessional doting - he maintains strict boundaries while on duty. Only in fleeting moments does the faintest hint of tenderness shine through his steely facade directed solely at you.

Perhaps his hand lingers electric against the small of your back as you salute and depart his office after filing reports. Or you notice his piercing gaze following your movements a beat longer than necessary across the grounds.

Each covert caress and weighted look reminds you this guarded man longs for you just as desperately.

While out beyongdthe safety of the walls, however, a transformed sort of protectiveness takes over Levi. His hyper-awareness of your positioning and safety borders on smotheringly paranoid at times.

He simply cannot fathom losing one of the few tethers still binding his soul to living.

You've lost count of the number of times Levi has abruptly extracted you from the heat of battle using his ODM gear like a ragdoll - eyes blazing with frantic fear.

Only once you're tucked away in some temporary haven does he finally allow himself to cup your face tenderly, scanning you over for injuries through trembling palms.

Harsh words laced with worry always tumble from his lips during these fraught reunions. "Foolish brat...always taking unnecessary risks...would never forgive myself if—"

Whatever self-recriminations Levi begins spitting will instantly evaporate as you surge up on your tiptoes to silence him with a searing kiss. Your reassurances that you're perfectly unharmed gradually smooth down those worry-lines etched across his brow.

Assuming you survive each expedition unscathed, Levi becomes almost insatiable for your affection whenever your boots hit headquarters ground again.

As if proximity to death's cold embrace reignites the urgency to savor every possible second with his greatest source of warmth and comfort.

He'll stride directly up to wherever you're stationed, seize you by the elbow and all but frog-march you both down the halls to his personal quarters.

Once the door bangs shut, Levi finally releases that ragged groan you've come to recognize as pooled tension seeping out like a valve opening.

All it takes is your delicate fingertips cradling his face and lips seeking out the jump of his pulse in that elegant throat...and suddenly you find yourself pinned flat against the nearest wall.

Every sacred inch of your body abruptly scorched and worshipped with ardent, possessive fervor.

Long after the afterglow of your frantic lovemaking has faded to drowsy embers, Levi's stormy gaze still rakes over you with mingled awe and disbelief.

As if whatever deity charged with spinning the threads of this cruel world saw fit to weave this small but brilliant spark of solace into the tapestry of his life.

Each time he rediscovers you lying sated and tousled beside him, you become the gravity lashing his heart into orbit anew.

On nights when memories of carnage past seep like toxic fumes into blacking out his dreams, Levi clings tighter to your sleeping form than he's ever dared to anything else.

You are his lighthouse, hearth and sanctuary against the darkness continually attempting to extinguish his faltering flames.

Enduring the loss of so many admired comrades has made your captain extraordinarily skilled at donning an impenetrable mask.

Only when your hands and lips and limbs entangle with his does Levi's stillness gradually erode back into the fiery embers burning hot at his very core.

No words need transpire for him to silently thank you time after time for slicing through the ice barricading his war-torn soul.

One look from those stormy greys conveys everything he can never find the breath to articulate before crushing you tight against his rapidly thundering heart once more.

[transingthoseformers]

Hehe hi I don't have enough coherent thoughts to really write more for mirage's heat properly but like 2 things:

1. Noah can stick his entire forearm up Mirage's valve and I think that drives both of them crazy for different reasons

2. At the peak of his heat, Mirage is overcome with the urge to bare his spark to Noah. Of course he knows there's no way he can spark merge with his boy, but that's not going to stop him. Between desperate pants he coaxes Noah climb onto him as he slides his chest plates open. When Noah finally dares to carefully sink his hands into the spark chamber, Mirage cries out in ecstacy. The blue energy of his spark twirls around Noah's fingers as the human dares to caress the orb presented to him. When Mirage finally overloads, Noah really Feels it. The solid pulse of energy that crackles out of Mirage's spark shoots through Noah's arms and through his frame- and for just a moment, he swears... he felt Mirage. The bot's consciousness brushed against his own and, in that moment, he shares the overwhelming pleasure and love coming from Mirage's very core. After all... the human brain runs on electrical impulses as well

Damn

Yes

YES ON THE HUMAN X TRANSFORMERS SPARKPLAY

[gnocchisworld]

Beautiful Stranger

Joost Klein x singer!reader

Summary: reader is playing at a festival and her set is right after Joost's, they meet in the backstage tent after his stage and hang out after reader does hers! Rumors circulate after fans spotted the pair and they reconnect after missed opportunities when they were together :PP

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: no use of y/n, YEARNING! no physical description of reader but uses of she/her and feminine descriptors!

A/N: omgomg this is my first fic ever on here so anyways I am a firm believer of the meeting people twice theory like yes second chances yes reconnection yes!

Entering the backstage tent of the festival, you were immediately hit with a wave of scorching heat, the sun's relentless rays seeping even through the canvas. The energy from the performance on stage outside was pulsing and lively, carried by the young artist who commanded the crowd's attention, music increasing the adrenaline in your blood. Yet even as you prepared for your own set, the background noise and excitement faded to a muted hum as you focused on your vocal exercises and cues. As you readied yourself, the atmosphere surrounding you was as sultry and intense as the heat outside, the hot air seemingly alive with a buzz of anticipation. 

With as much haste as the sound disappeared from your brain, a new, baritone voice flowed through the air. 

“Ah, sorry. Didn’t see you here.” 

You looked up from your daze and were met with a deep, hypnotic blue, one that would make even the skies jealous. The angles of his nose were perfectly shaped, as if God had taken extra time to mould the clay that would later take on his form. From the standpoint of a bystander, the two would seem like the sun and the moon; two opposites that seemingly complimented each other like second nature. As the silence lingered for a second too long and his gaze set comfortably on yours, you choked up the first words that came to mind.

“No worries! I was just lost in my own world there for a moment.”

He was entirely captivating — you were unsure of how to compose yourself as you burned under his stare. As if reading your mind, he quickly offers his hand out to you, eager to make any form of connection.

“You can call me Joost.” He urges, carefully tracing his eyes over every line in your face for a reaction.

Taking his hand in yours, you promptly share your name. A subtle yet powerful exchange — trading names — the fibres in which every invisible string between two people begins to entangle together. His hands felt as though they had once held the warmth of a flame, having the ability to breathe life into anything it touched. For lack of better word, you were electrified.

A careful knocking on the stage door alerted the two and prompted the release of your hands. Your manager walks in, choosing to ignore the other figure in the room.

“Sorry, you’re on in 3.” 

“I’ll be there, thanks, Jere.” He nods, closing the door with relative ease and resuming whatever words he was muttering into his walkie-talkie. 

A beat passes as Joost speaks up again, “Succes!” Smiling fervently, he lightly brushes the skin on your shoulder with his palm as he walks out into his own dressing room before you could even respond, taking with him the warmth of his presence.

Unsure of how to make sense of what had happened, you drowned in your own quandary. The blood in your veins were still pounding against the valves of your beating heart and your kidney was beginning to beat to the same rhythm. You were unsure of whether this was due to stage fright or your recent encounter, though it didn’t really matter anyways; it was the fact that they were both valid options. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------

As you step on stage, the roar of the crowd engulfed your senses like a crashing wave. Your eyes scan the sea of bodies, a kaleidoscope of colours and faces all there to witness your performance. Unconsciously, you were scouring for the blue that looked at you as if you had been the only girl in the world. 

Unbeknownst to you, he had joined the crowd to experience the passion that you had brought out with your music — he wanted to get to know you, and music is the window to one’s soul. As you sang your first song, it became adamantly clear to him how the atmosphere shifted and every light softened under your radiance. Your music highlighted the more subtle hues in life that Joost had not seen in awhile, eliciting memories of lustrous summers and fleeting springs; it felt as if his world, which was always turning at 100 kilometres an hour, began to slow. Your voice was mellow, it filled his eardrums and calmed the ringing which usually reverberated in every corner of his skull. He took note of everything you did, from the way you held your guitar to the reds blossoming on your fingertips as you held down on its strings. Ultimately, he was hopelessly captivated — by your lulling melody, your beauty, and the entirety of your being.

Diverting your eye from your guitar to the crowd, you locked your gaze on a familiar aquamarine — a shade you couldn’t get out of your head as it bloomed in your peripheral vision. A smile played on your lips; you couldn't help it. It was as if the corners of your mouth were tugged at, forcing them to curve upwards. The warmth which was previously absent in your stomach began to reignite and it felt as if rainbows were being drawn on the skies of your psyche. Being on stage in front of thousands has never felt so intimate before.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

As your final song comes to an end, your cheeks are numb from the constant smiling — not performatively but rather from sheer happiness. You step off the stage and back into the backstage tents, still dazed from the trance you were under as you had, prior, melted under the beautiful stranger’s gaze. You could feel a familiar set of eyes linger on you and you’re met at eye level with two deep blue pools. He spoke up gently, breaking the silence between the two before it could settle on your shoulders.

Joost grins at you, his eyes still sparkling with the same intensity as before. "You were phenomenal up there," he says. "I couldn't take my eyes off you."

You felt your cheeks flush a rosy pink, with a shy smile you replied, “you weren’t too bad either.”

Joost let out a hearty chuckle, amused by your comment. "Just 'not too bad'?" he teased, feigning offence. A beat passes as you forget to answer, as if wind had been sucked out of you from the mere sight of his laughter. Taking the initiative, he inquires you; “Hey, uh, I was thinking of walking around some more, take a look at some other stages if you wanted to hang out for a bit?”

Your eyes sparkle with a glint of excitement, “I was actually thinking the same thing — I’d love to join you.” Your voice cracking ever so subtly, betraying your nervous plight.

Carefully, he took your hand and started walking out of the tent, leading you towards the next stage — “so you don’t get lost.”

As you shuffle through the labyrinth of crowds, your bodies are constantly pushed together, every small touch prompting an exchange of warmth in return. His doting predisposition was almost overbearing, each time he looked back to make sure you were still behind him was so subtle, yet so appetent. The implications of it all, his hands on yours as you traverse the field of human bodies, wide open for the consumption of a myriad of prying eyes, was not lost on either of you, yet it remained a fact that both of you choose to ignore.

Breathing away the air of silence encapsulating the two of you, he speaks up. “What kind of music are you into? Like what artist do you want to see right now?”

You hadn’t realised how your gaze was so readily fixed on him — as if it were a force of habit, until his voice fills the silence you’d had in your head; racing at 100 kilometres an hour to catch up to the speed of your heart. Without much time to formulate a response, you quickly mutter the first few words that enter your thoughts. “I’ll watch anyone! Plus — maybe you could introduce me to some new music?”

Your words elicited a gentle smile as he tugged you towards a new area; “truth be told I don’t know who’s performing either — but we can discover together!”

As you settle into the crowd and your bodies blended in to the splatter of colour amidst dancing souls, he rested his hand on the small of your back, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your top — holding dear to you and praying to a higher being so as to not get partitioned in the middle of thousands.

Although you were sure your attention was focused on the performance just ahead, you could feel each time his gaze averted into your eye line — his stare burned into your cheek the same way a kiss would; searing your flesh with a romance that lingered like sun rays on burnt skin. You used each chance he looked away to do the same — to leave a persistent stain on his peripheral vision which sent his heart to the moon. This prolonged back and forth lasted all the way to the end of the artist’s set, his songs being nothing more than background noise as your heart pounded prolifically in your ears. 

Eager to extend your time together, you asked to buy him a drink — with which he gladly accepted.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Minutes passed into hours discreetly — you were lost in conversations about everything and nothing at the same time, until the noise settled and the crowd thinned, bringing your conversation down to weak attempts at staying in each other’s company.

You take the final sip of your drink; you promised yourself this’d be the last. Eased by the momentum of your mutual exchange, you ask him: “Do you ever look out into the crowd and realise that every person that everyone’s ever met was brought together by chance?”

“Like how your set just so happened to be right after mine?”

Hesitantly, you replied, stepping on eggshells as you cherry pick each word carefully, trying to gauge some meaning behind your blooming relationship. “Yeah, I mean like what if I hadn’t been in that tent when you came in? Would you still watch my set? Would you be having a drink with me right now?”

“I’m pretty sure someone with a presence like yours would’ve caught my attention one way or another.” His response was delivered almost immediately, as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world.

Attempting to hide the smile inevitably slipping onto your face and the pink creeping up your cheeks, you let out a sincere chuckle. “I’m glad you think so.”

As your conversations drift with the sunlight, a call from your manager reminds you of your responsibilities, prompting an exchange of see you soons and subtle glances over the shoulder as you both depart from each other’s warmth.

It was hard to be around him — to be close but not close enough. To say he charmed you would be an understatement, and to say that he didn’t feel the same would be a lie. Being back in your hotel room reminded you of how intoxicating it felt to be near him, and it felt like an itch as you traced back the steps that you took so carefully around him; how the two of you danced around each other so gently. You weren't sure you'd ever cross paths again; the regret of not being forward about how you'd felt with him loomed around you as you lay in bed, phone in hand, wondering if he was still thinking about you. His name rested on the tip of your tongue as you drifted off to sleep, naturally burrowing a home in your chest.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Waking up to waning notifications and texts hardly alerted you as you were seemingly stuck in the same state of wonderstruck that you had been in the day before. As you recollect your fleeing consciousness, the blots of colour on your screen begin to form coherent shapes, revealing texts from your manager and PR team, all addressed at several tweets and posts discussing you; their messages growing more and more panicked with each one. With a deep breath, you clicked on the Twitter app, bracing yourself for what you knew was coming.

The tweets were overwhelming, discussing everything from your performance to your interaction with Joost. People were making assumptions about your relationship and dissecting every detail of your interaction.

Mindlessly scrolling through the barrage of tweets, a text from a number you have labelled as “Joost :)” halts every single movement and thought previously in motion.

J: hello girlfriend :D 

R: joost?

J: have u seen what theyre saying about us??

R: its really brutal

they dont hesitate

J: this is my first time experiencing something like this (・´з`・)

R: me too!

i hope youre ok with that kind of stuff though, its pretty intrusive

J: yup, but im going to have to get used to this (╥﹏╥)

and you are cute, so i dont mind  (⁀ᗢ⁀)

R: oh thank you, youre cute too :D 

You smiled as you read Joost's messages, feeling a warm sense of relief and happiness. Despite the gossip and speculation online, he seemed to be handling it all in stride – easing any preexisting worry that he’d be weirded out or pushed away by the assumptions forced upon you and your relationship. You stared intently at your screen, your fingers hovering anxiously over the keypad. Your heart rate quickened as you contemplated hitting send on the message, a wave of trepidation washing over her. 

R: maybe we can talk more over lunch? just to make sure ure all good!

Was it too desperate? Did it seem like you wanted a second? First? Date amidst an unfortunate impasse? Would he be discouraged? Did he even want to see you again?

J: i’d love 2!!!!

Oh. You release the breath you hadn’t noticed you were holding in, letting the pressure dissipate from your shoulders. Despite the weight of the situation, you found solace in knowing that he had playfully accepted the circumstances and was willing to brace the full extent of the accusations by risking another day with you. Finalising the details for lunch, you got ready and swiftly made your way out the door – towards the destined spot.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Stumbling through the city, you took in the sights as you passed by slews of oscillating buildings and unnamed parks. Unanswered messages from your manager remain rigid and unread as you lock away your phone, looking forward for signs of the restaurant you were to meet Joost in. Determination sets in to the anterior parts of your brain – the tenacity to express your interest in growing together with the man you had just met the day prior. Although it was sudden, you were sure that getting to know him would only continue to confirm the feelings beginning to harbour at the base of your judgement. Rounding the last corner, you were hit by a familiar warmth; it was sudden, intrusive, preponderant, and all-consuming simultaneously.

“Hallo!” The Dutch accent slipped into his greeting like honey, the same baritone voice you’d come to be acquainted with to fill the air around you, as a blanket would. Suddenly every smell, minute sound, or gentle breeze that was prevalent became subdued – every one of your senses focusing on the presence of the alluring companion standing in front of you.

Your grin evident in your voice, you reply tenderly, “hello, stranger.”

[heartlaboratory]

Due to a congenital heart defect her aortic valve, the one which separates her left ventricle from the rest of her body, grew with only 2 of the 3 naturally intended leaflets. Beside a very visible neck pulse, low blood pressure and a low tolerance to phisical efforts this has never been a problem for her but to avoid possible future consequences like heart wall hypertrophy (that would make her heart extremely visible under her thin rib cage) and important arrhythmias she decided to undergo a new experimental slightly invasive surgical procedure. Very thin probes will be inserted through her left side chest, they will enter inside the heart from a safe point and after reaching her aortic valve the surgeon will have to reshape it while the heart is still normally beating. She will be awake during the whole procedure, with just a local pain killer administered to the point in which the probes will be inserted (that's the reason why she decided for this procedure: she's scared by general anesthesia). She passed all the important preliminary controls to verify she was suited for the procedure and the intervention began.

Was it the idea of having small blades inside the center of her life? Was the fact that an iportant group of people (gathered to watch the experimental procedure) was looking at her completely naked holding her bare breasts? Was it having her beating heart clearly visible on a see through screen or the fact it was being manipulated right under her hand while she was feeling each beat? The moment after the probes penetrated her flesh a load of adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream making her heart rate to skyrocket.

Looking concerned at the screen, where the image of her damaged slamming valve taken by one of the probes was represented, the surgeon said: "She's too scared! All these movements are making the procedure too dangerous, a single mistake and she's gone. We have to put her to sleep..." Her entire chest was literally bounching with each heartbeat.

A strong aerial anesthetic was administered through the tube attached to her nose and before she had an heart attack realizing she was about to receive general anesthesia she fell asleep.

[tinydefector]

Glory Hole

Energyfluid AU

Character: Megatron, Rodimus, Whirl, Cyclonus and Drift

Warnings: Smut, Oral, body fluids, cum drinking, fingering

Word count: 2.4k

Request and ask open, read pinned post

Whirl masterlist

Rodimus masterlist

Cyclonus masterlist

Drift Masterlist

Megatron masterlist

Notes: I got a request for Whirl while I was working on this, and it was for fluid play/Vomit, so I tried to work a bit of that into this. So Anon, I hope you like it.

___________

Raucous laughter and lively conversation fill the bar as assorted mechs enjoy downtime. At the counter, Swerve meticulously polishes and cleans every glass, whistling an upbeat tune. 

Riptide nurses his high-grade, regaling Whirl with tales of his latest daring escapades above the clouds. Across the room, Tailgate and Cyclonus share private words, orbiting ever closer. 

Rodimus holds court amid his crew, gesticulating wildly as he recounts some bravado-filled battle. Beside him, Drift watches with a half-smile, content in quietude. Brainstorm debates theory with a gathering of scientists. 

At a shadowed booth, two dark helms bow close, mysterious as the joor fades around them. Music pulses through lively crowds on the dance floor and stage alike. 

When movement catches many bots optics follows the petite figure's progress, 

The human gives Swerve a wave as they head further down the table with drink in hand. It wasn't hard for them to navigate the Ridge along the wall until they made their way over to one of the dark booths. The one every bot knew as the 'glory hole' booth. They patiently wait on their side of the wall for company. 

Megatron's Piece

His optics observed the tiny creature's approaching the veiled booth curiosity from his own seat. With a low rumble he stands himself not caring for the lingering optics as he makes his way towards the other side of the booth.

The human ends up seated in the small dark booth away from everyone, eyes linger on the rather large glory hole. Eagerly waiting. It was the lost lights' worst kept secret only Ultra Magnus' not knowing about it, or not carrying enough to fix it. So here they stand, eyes glued to the hole, waiting for his potential hook up.

A flick of his servo drew the booth's privacy screens, cloaking all within the shadow's embrace.He vented softly, ready to see how the moment unfolded. Megatron draws a vent as delicate touches tease along his array, sensation unusual yet intriguing. Beneath plating long stilled, his spike stirs, pressurising thick cables as it rises to pressurise the tips of seeking fingers.

Releasing locks with care, he allows his valve cover to withdraw, His optics glow steady invitation through the gloom as spike extends, its broad head emerging into the fragile hand wrapped around his girth. Size alone speaks the vast difference between their frames, yet here within this dark booth size didn't matter anymore.  

lips are against the spike in an instant, suckling and licking lines along the length, hands working down towards megatron's Valve, soft fingers pressing against the nodes. Megatron stifles a groan as an eager mouth engulfs his spike, small tongue flickering over sensitive lines in a maddening dance. The small digits teasing at his valve click urgently against biolights, coaxing them to glow brighter under adept hands. 

Megatron knew he wasn't going to last long nor did he care, it was the release he desperately needed after so long. Pressurising lines pump fresh transfluid to his spike, slick coating the velvet mouth stretched wide to take his girth. His legs shift restlessly, canting hips in silent plea for more contact against the small hands playing him expertly. 

Through the darkness Megatron vents raggedly, surrendering control to the human on the otherside. They eagerly drink down the transfluid, cup placed under to catch what he couldn't down quickly. When they finally pulls away it's with soft pants and pale blue drips down his chin. 

After cleaning themself, the human sits back out on the bar sipping their 'drink' , a mix of Vodka and megatron's Transfluid.

Satiated cables throb dully within Megatron as he watches them so publicly drinking the mix without a care. The sight of blue smeared upon petite lips stirs coding. 

Rodimus' Piece 

Rodimus throws back the last of his high grade with a carefree laugh. Yet as he signals Swerve for a refill, a flash of movement catches his optics. 

Curious, he follows it to a shadowed booth - and pauses as subtle harmonies pluck at his intake. There, curled delicately on the edge, sits the most breathtaking creature. Lithe limbs beg exploration; soft lips cry out to be claimed.

Clearly the small being noticed his approach, moving into one side of the booth. Rodimus cycles a deep vent, arousal stirring beneath plates as memory cores unbolt.

They hum to themself when hearing quick movements on the other side of the glory hole wall. They can hear the light stumbles and giggles from a bot on the other side. shakes their head in amusement. Waiting for the bots' spike to press through the hole. Rodimus vents sharply as his spike presses invitation through the discreet access port. So rarely does he indulge such depravity. 

When small hands curl daringly around his spike, Rodimus throws back his helm with wild static, gripping the berth for balance.  "Primus" he rasps, thick fluid already weeping onto willing palms. His spike throbs powerfully, 

Rodimus guides himself to a slick, waiting mouth. His cry of rapture shakes the walls, Slowly, ever so slowly, he allows his spike to sink blissfully home. Venting ragged prayers, Rodimus braces against the wall, sparing not an inch of the treasure gifted unto him.

How blesséd this chance encounter, Tiny soft moans are felt around Rodimus' spike, as they eagerly try to take more of his spike down their throat. Hands wrapped around his length working it quickly as they hum in their chest. 

Hardened lines pulse heavy between those practised lips and hands, smooth movements wringing rapture after rapture from his very wiring. Rodimus keens and bucks helplessly into that suckling warmth, static clawing his vision to whiteness. 

It has been far too long since he'd been worked to overload. Gripping the wall till plates dent, Rodimus fights the tide only moments more. Then with a final cry he thrusts deep, spilling hot and thick directly down that willing throat. Wave after wave pulses out in pulsing bliss.

They are quick to pull away trying to catch as much in a cup as possible before drinking down as much of the sweet peach tasting transfluid he could. With one last lap at Rodimus' spike they step back letting go of his length. As his spike is freed from that embrace, Rodimus sags against the wall in blissful exhaustion. His sensors feel alight, every circuit singing. He drinks in the mouth watering sounds of his release being savoured, arousal already stirring once more. 

Whirl's Piece

Whirl spots the tiny figure's approach and cants his helm in interest. When realisation strikes, he throws his head back in cackling glee. He makes his way quickly into the booth.  "Well well, if it isn't little Tiny! Coming to play in the adult's corner, are we?" 

They need no further invitation. Reaching out, they run tiny hands across Whirl's plating, feeling transformation seams and scars alike as whirl opens his plating. A shiver runs through the hardened mech. His field flares with barely contained need and novelty-seeking charge. 

When nimble little digits find hidden sensor nodes, drawing shocked pleas from clenched dental plates, they eagerly work their mouth against whirl’s Valve. Lips wrapped around the node and hand runs along the back of Whirl's spike. 

In the murky gloom of the illicit booth, rhythmic clicks and gasps echo raw in swirling charge. Whirl shudders violently, pinned against the grimy wall by the fierce tide crashing through his lines. An alien mouth devours him with greedy, grasping hunger, coaxing pleasure from hidden places. Each suck and nip drags another cry flying free, no shame in this hallowed den of passion. 

His spike throbs nearly untouched save for scrabbling fingers, leaving it swollen and aching. Optic flame pulses wild, claw-tips scoring deep rents as the first crashing wave hits, dragging a shattering howl from his rusty vocalizer. Transfluid spurts forth in scalding pulses to flood that greedy mouth.  

Spent and shaking, Whirl slumps against the wall, venting in great billowing gusts. They grin, licking sweet lips, and dive in for more. “You're a menace whirl, but gods do you taste amazing" they calls out before running his tongue along the base of whirl’s spike lapping up the leftover Transfluid. Collection a mouthful of transfluid before letting it drip from their mouth for Whirls pleasure. 

Whirl howls, spike throbbing wildly at the sight of his release painted across that smug little mouth. His field flares in possessive hunger, desire spiking further at the brazen praise. 

"Menace?" he rasps between pants as that wicked tongue circles his nodes once more. "More like chaos incarnate, you cheeky fleshling." With a snarl, he scoops them up, cramming that teasing mouth firmly around his spike once more. "That's it, lap it all up," he growls, canting sharply to drive home his length in deep, ruthless thrusts. 

 fluids smearing across plump lips as Whirl brutalises their willing throat. He sees the adoration glowing in widened eyes and knows he's found a perfect accomplice for debauchery. "Frag, you're gonna be the death of me," Whirl pants, spike pulsing wildly. With a roar he overloads down that swallowing throat, transfluid flooding its depths.  they pull away coughing and spitting up the pale blue fluid before shooting him a glare.

"But what a way to go!" 

When they finish, the human pats Whirl's plating, finally pulling away and wiping their lips. "Thanks for the drink, handsome! Try not to choke me next time" They calls out, still coughing lightly

Cyclonus' Piece 

As the small organic approaches the booth, Cyclonus observes with neutral curiosity. Strange to see such a fragile thing seek the patrons of this darkened corner knowingly. 

When delicate fingers curl around the edge of the privacy screen, he makes no move to dissuade. Within moments, a sweet scent teases his olfactory sensors - arousal. He moves towards the glory hole. 

Soft hands move against Cyclonus' interface plate through the glory hole. soft giggles leave soft lips before they speaks. "I wasn't expecting your company tonight Cyclonus, what a surprise this is" they hums while waiting for Cyclonus to open his panel and release his spike. 

At the muffled words, Cyclonus' optics shutter halfway in dark pleasure. Still he hesitates - this creature seems so impossibly fragile. His panel hisses open reluctantly, spike pressurising at the first teasing touch upon its tip. When had he last taken interface so tenderly? Memory fails. 

His spike throbs mercilessly against small fingers wrapping slick around its girth. A gruff growl shivers the walls. "Careful, little one." A Hot mouth sliding upon his spike in a swift plunge that has Cyclonus see static. Their lips wrap around Cyclonus' spike moaning loudly around the tip as they sucks against the length. Fingers dance teasingly along the lights of his spike. 

His hips canter up on instinct, thrusts restrained but steady. Each draws forth beautiful music, and when overload finally claims him, Cyclonus keen softly coming undone. 

A violent shudder wrecks his frame as static scrambles his vocalizer. eager lips around his twitching spike. Cyclonus strains against the screen dividing them, spike throbbing mercilessly as it seeks more of that blessed suction. It grants all and more, a dancing tongue to tease every sensitive cable and node, a moan vibrating straight through steel to rattle his struts like nothing else ever has. 

When it hits, it comes from the core of his being to shake the very walls. A guttural howl tears loose as Cyclonus spurts down that velvet throat in pulsing waves, vents and venting in ragged breaths.

They giggle, pulling away, Transfluid running down their front as they lick a strip up Cyclonus' spike. "First time with a human?" they asked softly.

Cyclonus can only manage a wordless grunt in response, still reeling from sensation that was utterly overwhelming. Never has any encounter scrambled his coding so completely as this delicate creature's wicked indulgences. 

Drift's Piece 

At first, Drift hears only muffled laughter and commotion from beyond the dividing wall of his private booth. Peaceable enjoyment of solitude is his simple wish on this night. Yet destiny has a way of tapping one unawares. 

The divider obscures all but shadow and suggestion. So when pale fingers emerge to caress its dark surface, tracing seams of his playing with delicate curiosity, his interest is piqued. Such slender appendages seem too fine-wrought for a mech's touch.   

Leaning close, he detects the faintest scent smoothing away like silk, sweetness like none programmed into his cultural database. Optics dim, fans cycled to mute, it was one of the humans hands. 

The fingers' owner starts faintly at the contact, then settles once more. Drift takes this as consent, they slowly suck Drift's digits though the glory hole, eagerly running their tongue along the steel. After a little they pull back. 

Through the pleasure haze, Drift registers the subtle shift. He withdraws gently from the enticing grip. A few calming vents leave him. His panel releases not in haste, exposing his spike with the same care offered fleshy fingers moments before. 

When the first velvety touch comes, he cannot stifle a shuddering vent. Sensitive sensors map every contour, Blazing optics meet shadowy fingers with perfect thrust; there exists no rush when two worlds commune so intimately. Exploration in its own time 

Small lips eagerly kiss up along his lengths and down it, pulling back and wrapping lips around Drift's spike. Humming at the gentle taste against their tongue. They runs the flat of their tongue over the hood of Drift's spike. 

He cycles his vents raggedly, fighting protocols clamouring for urgent release alone would shatter him. His spike twitches under the sinful mouth, Blissful groans sing softly through the booth as spike meets velvet suction, drawing sweet whimpers spurring him higher. 

"Come on, pretty bot unload for me, bet you taste amazing sweet thing" they call out before taking Drift's back into their mouth eager to make the bot overload. The needy encouragement pushes Drift to the very edge of coherency. Static claws at his vocalizer as he fights to reply, 

Overload hovers mere astro seconds away. His spike throbs wildly against the velvet suction pulling him toward that blissful edge. With final shreds of control, he rasps softly, "May I?" He cries out

His entire form seizes in stasis lock before collapsing heavily against the wall, Fields entwines amid aftershocks. Drift vents slowly as he recovers. 

They eagerly drink down as much of the bots transfluid as possible. "Mmm you taste pretty good sweet bot, not one of the regulars are you?" They calls out while moving back and releasing Drifts spike 

Slowly rebooting protocols pull Drift back to full awareness, stated in both frame and spirit. He powers down his interface array, closing panel with the faintest click. 

Through the darkness, a soft chuckle reaches his audials. "I am not regular. Came in here for some quiet I believe i got more than i anticipated" 

[zorosdimples]

THESE LITTLE DEATHS OF MINE ꒰ okkotsu yuuta x reader ꒱

minors do not interact—i will block you. cw: angst. reader’s stream-of-consciousness and emotions regarding yuuta’s line of work. ambiguous ending (hope is alive). brief sexual descriptions. reader is gn and implied to be shorter than yuuta. wc: 1031. notes: fingers crossed that this makes sense :’-) it’s a little all over the place.

A piece of you dies each time he recklessly throws himself in harm’s way.

Caring for others to the detriment of his own wellbeing is as natural to Yuuta as breathing. He won’t ever admit it (not in words, at least) but you know his heart better than your own. You have held it bloody and beating in your clammy palms, felt the muscle contract and expand, contract and expand; you have seen the truth buried within its chambers, vessels, and valves.

Yuuta believes his suffering is deserved—a cyclical debt he must repay for unwittingly chaining his childhood love to this realm.

Each little death is painful. Gasps of air clatter in your throat, unable to reach your screaming lungs. Violence rends your spirit and severs your very being, its splintered fragments crumbling to dust. You’re a vessel of who you once were, your boyfriend’s life your only concern, his medical updates the gospel.

It’s a basic trick of the mind—a twisted form of self-preservation—convincing yourself that your own injuries aren’t serious. Tattered nerves and a frayed psyche simply need stitching; what is ripped can always be mended.

Though every time you think you’ve grown accustomed to seeing him bear another senseless scar, you’re proven wrong.

═════════════════

Two hands can’t count all the conversations you’ve had like this, his body rigid and prone, your tears threatening to carve crimson rivulets down his wan face. There’s a cruel voice that whispers in your ear: from a distance, he looks like a corpse. A new wound weeps profusely on his abdomen, a weary smile tugging at his split lips. 

“I’m going to be okay,” he soothes before you can say anything.

It’s unconvincing. Maybe it would be easier to trust him if you hadn’t been in this exact position over a dozen times before. Yuuta soaks up your expression, honing in on the furrow between your brows. If he had a little more strength, he’d smooth over the wrinkle with his thumb—there, all better.

“I’ll be good as new in a couple days.” He tries to keep his tone breezy, but you hear a coarse rattle when he exhales. “Then we can laugh about this, yeah?”

Sniffling, you rub your puffy eyes with the heel of your palm. Your mouth curves into a pout, your lips the delicate petals of a flower curling shut. “Don’t make promises that you can’t keep.”

“I could never break a promise to you.”

You find the pulse point on Yuuta’s wrist, taking comfort in the dull lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub. 

═════════════════

He decides to tell you now.

You’re crammed together in the shower, wet skin slipping and sliding, soap suds swirling across the tile and down the drain. The water is hot, steam fogging up the vanity mirror. (You both like to write your initials in the condensation, drawing a heart around them like lovesick teens—a silly way to reclaim some of your lost youth.) Yuuta diligently washes your body, nimble digits working at the knots in your shoulders before lathering your back. 

“Tomorrow morning, I have to leave for an assignment. I’ll be gone before you get up for work.” His voice is muted—a ghost of whisper—and you suck in a breath. His touch trails down your spine, lingering over each vertebra before he reaches your hips and grips the fat, thumbs stroking your softness. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone…”

It takes you a few beats to process the news; you release the breath you’ve been holding. You squeeze your eyes shut, tracing over the crack in your words before you speak. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

“I have to, my love.”

“I know you do.”

Deafening silence stretches between you like a void, filling the distance between your bodies.

“Say something,” Yuuta entreats.

He bows his head to smear a kiss against the nape of your neck. While the water is scalding, his lips are cold, and you tremble. Crystalline droplets blur your vision as you turn to your boyfriend, seeking solace in his embrace. A lithe arm wraps around your waist while the other cradles your head. 

“You don’t get to leave my side at all tonight. Not once,” you mumble into his chest. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I can’t risk disappointing you, can I?”

His irises are too deep, too blue—mournful as the twilight sky.

═════════════════

It always plays out the same, the evening before he leaves. You’ve made a ritual of it, a sacred, holy rite. There’s an unspoken understanding between the two of you that this could be it—which is why you must devour each other wholly. 

Loving and being loved by Yuuta is usually honey-slow and tender. But when everything is at stake, you can’t get enough of one another. It’s reminiscent of your first time together: sloppy kisses that wet your chin, blooming marks that litter your bodies, stuttered confessions in the rare moment that you part for air. You finish around his fingers and tongue until you’re dizzy and pliant. And by the time he enters you, a flame engulfs his movements, everything brutal and incandescent with passion. It’s his declaration of love. Of possession. Of yearning. 

“Don’t leave me,” you cry, clawing at his shoulders—your lifeline.

“I’ll be back,” he promises. “I’ll come back to you. Always.”

Eventually, you collapse in a heap of damp sheets and sticky flesh, your limbs inextricably tangled, your lover still buried inside you. Moonbeams slip through the edges of your curtains while you drift off as one.

═════════════════

The trill of the alarm startles you awake. The room is empty—save for your lone figure, nude and sore. You roll to Yuuta’s side of the bed and nestle beneath the covers; the herbal scent of shampoo clings to his pillow. If you close your eyes, you can pretend he’s beside you, gazing at your profile with disarming adoration. 

I’ll be back. 

You revisit that moment, play it frame-by-frame, memorize his insistent stare and the decisive set of his jaw. A stray tear pearls at the outer corner of your eye and rolls down your temple, wetting his pillowcase. 

I’ll be back. 

Hopelessly, you wish that Yuuta didn’t have a habit of making promises he can’t keep.

═════════════════

[lovefazedforsoundwave]

OFM! SOUNDWAVE X GN!CYBERTRONIAN! READER | SMUT

Warnings: valve teasing, SPIKE IN VALVE INTERFACING, small Praising.

You had been working aside soundwave under megatron and his orders. You two both remain as work partners, but you want to be more than that. It just didn't feel right as a work partner. It gave you a sharp feeling in your spark. It pounded when you were close. Who knew if he felt the same about you,

You had just wished you had enough courage to tell him that you loved him, and you needed him. Soon, each cycle and micro second you wasted no time to spend together strengthens your relationship with him. You get more confident each cycle. And you had planned a few cycles ago that it was time to admit your feelings to him since they can't just hide there forever. Cycles pass, your crush for your work partner grows, and you even plan to make a confession, eventually.

Cycles later, it's decided that you tell him what you've been wanting to. You practice & muster up courage each day, to tell your work partner you love him, he's gotta be somewhere, maybe in the communications?, you go check but he's not there. You should ask the other vehicons or the other fellow decepticons. You walk around and somewhat manage to find vehicon ST3V3,

"Hey. Steve, have you seen soundwave? Anywhere??"

"Oh. He's in his headquarters, and he wanted me to invite you there, I was going to find you."

"Oh, thanks, steve."

You walk off waving goodbye at steve before going off to soundwaves headquarters. Maybe he needed something? As you drift off into paradise, you find yourself by his headquarters door. You shake out off it and knock on his door and he then opens it.

Oh, uhm. Hi, soundwave. I've heard you've requested me?."

" Yes. I have requested for some personal reasons."

You look at his towering from. You've always been shorter than him. He invited you in and locked the door, he retracts his mask and placed it down on his desk as he turned to you and walked closer and kissed you out of the blue, his soft dermas against yours fell so nice, you shutter at this but accept his passionate kiss, he shoves his glossa into your intake while you moan to the sudden action, his yellow visor brightens to your pleasured sound, he breaks to kiss to breathe, the long Saliva string on his tongue and in your mouth, you breathe hard.. he moves you to the berth, he towers over you as you lay down, you blush and hold back a whine of pleasure as he runs his two digits over your interface panel

"Permission: may I open your panel?"

"Ahm.. ye-s.. you can.."

He's so careful with what he does, so it won't hurt you in a way. He takes off your panel, the cold air hits your valve lips, you shiver, he grumbles a praise, and he then adds his digit to your valve Thrusts in and out slowly, your valve gets wet with transfluid by the second, you moan as he geta deeper each microsecond , you get closer to releasing your pent up cycles of pleasure, your fantasies got ahold of you, soundwave on top of you, touching you, and it's exactly what you'll get. He's thought so many things of you it's impossible about how incompatible he becomes when his fantasies of you get stronger each cycle, he speeds up his digits, hitting all the right spots, causing you to moan, you were just about to overload, but he pulls out and sticks his two digits into his mouth tasting you, he grunts, you whine after the cold hits your valve lips again but then he takes his own interface panel, revealing his spike, it pulses, the ridges, and bio lights glow, he spreads your tibulens gently, he positions himself by your valve entrance, he pushes in gently, taking his cable inch my inch, you moan, from both pleasure and pain, he runs his digit over your chassis, as a sign to insure you, that you'll be fine, adjusting to his cable, stretching you out, you nod meaning he can move, he moves gently in and out, the pleasure builds up each Thrust, you moan so generously for him, he praises you,

"Your moaning generously for me, good, good bot."

You moan as he praises you, his Thrusts getting faster by the minute, making you moan, you're getting so close to overload. Your spark chamber pounds in this passionate moment you both share, his yellow visor glows, and he groans loudly as he Thrusts, his digits grab your tibulens more, he Thrusts faster each second hitting your gstation , hitting places you'd never knew, you overload, as he just rides his overload out roughly inside your valve, being oversimulated, his transfluid drips out your valve as he pulls out, heaving a breathe, as you drift off to recharge, he comes closer and kisses you on you're faceplates.

"I.. love you y/n,"

He admits something he hadn't for just anyone before, a new feeling had sparked him.

[quadrantadvisor]

Owl House/Boiling Isles biology headcanons from a fic idea I never wrote:

Witches have a wider range of color vision than humans. A lot of magic puts off infrared light (meaning Luz is missing out on like, half of what spells actually look like).

Humans, however, have a better sense of smell. Witches are better at digesting potentially hazardous materials, but humans have to worry about poisons. Humans are also highly specialized to smell petrichor (via Wikipedia, "able to detect it at concentrations as low as 0.4 parts per billion"), and witches can't smell it at all. (Luz is like, "I miss the rain smells in the human realm so much. On the Boiling Isles the rain just smells like burning :/" and all her friends are like, "what. are you talking about."

Witches don't have an appendix, but they do, coincidentally, also have a random organ that doesn't have much of a purpose and sometimes ruptures and kills you. It's located slightly above the right lung.

Kinda obvious but, ears. Witch ears have a greater curve than human ears and taper into a point. They have some limited mobility, allowing the witch to pinpoint sounds, and they play a part in emotional expression. For a witch, it's not really that strange that human ears are round, it's more that they don't move at all. They're completely stiff, and it makes humans difficult to read. (Luz is lucky she's otherwise very expressive, or else she would come off as nearly emotionless. As it is, sometimes people think she's not being genuine, because her ears don't match the rest of her expression, like when someone smiles without their eyes.)

Humans have slightly denser bones than witches. As a result, humans weigh a bit more on average and put on muscle easier.

Witches can't digest lactose

A high tolerance for most human poisons means that alcohol isn't a popular drug for witches. It technically affects them in a similar way, but their tolerance is such that it's not an effective way to get high. Most of the drugs used recreationally on the Boiling Isles would kill a human instantly.

Witches have a different pulse beat from humans, since their hearts are designed differently to accommodate the bile sac (and grimwalkers' pulses are even more unique, since they have a galdorstone. Rather than the thump of blood valves, Grimwalkers have a sort of magic hum that pulses their circulatory system.)

[emotionallyattachednerd]

Love's Embrace | TFP Optimus Prime x Ratchet | NSFW 18+

Word count: 1500k

Warnings: Smut ( spike in valve, size difference, sex toys and mech on mech ). NSFW 18+.

Notes: This is a valentine's gift for @beemochi-art through an event on discord. Hope you enjoy. 🥰

☕ Coffee

It was a day of celebration on earth, a day for love, something the humans did for their significant other. When the autobot's first arrived on earth it was something both Ratchet and Optimus had discovered but never have celebrated before. At first it sounded silly to the medic, why there needed to be a day to express one another's love, and why you couldn't express the same love everyday for the rest of your life.

Optimus seemed to have a small understanding, explaining it was just an extra special day for lovers to express even more, to devote and make the day about themselves. Still, Ratchet found it silly, and so it wasn't really something neither had brought up again, until it did.

The autobot leader and his most trusted friend, his lover, his conjunx endura, have been together since the beginning of the war between autobot's and decepticon's. Both found comfort and love with one another, charging through every battle together, nothing holding them back. It's a bond that can never be torn apart.

Ratchet had finally caved and decided to ask June about this valentine's day, to get a better insight from another human. Although she might've not been the best choice, considering her former partner had left her and Jack on their own, she was the only one Ratchet trusted, and she was happy to talk to him about it.

Ratchet wanted to finally celebrate the day with Optimus, to express his love, to give him extra attention. At first he thought it was a day for expressing love, exchanging gifts, and having the day for themselves, but that wasn't all. June had blurted out about making things interesting in the bedroom before becoming flustered and apologised, but Ratchet insisted on knowing more.

It seemed he found something of interest.

In the evening, Ratchet took Optimus out for a delightful evening together. It was simple, but perfect. A beautiful night of breathtaking clear skies, an enchanting evening for stargazing. Together they lay on the ground, wrapped in each other's embrace, whispering promises of everlasting love and relishing the tender moment.

The moon glows down on them, and it felt the right moment to play some slow dancing music and lean into one another while swaying with some of earth's gentle music. Different from cybertron, but it's a beautiful harmony. Ratchet leans his helm against Optimus' chassis, silently thanking for his happiness and love to grow with Optimus, his leader, his friend, his spark. Optimus wouldn't be here today without Ratchet, he's been there for him through everything, protecting and helping him no matter what. He couldn't ask for a better friend and lover.

Returning to base, Ratchet had one more surprise for Optimus. Entering their shared quarters, the room was already set up with the lights dimmed, warm hues highlighting areas in the room.

“What’s this?” Optimus questions curiously, astonished optics glancing around.

Ratchet smiles delicately and slides his servos up across Optimus' chassis again, bringing his helm down and sharing a graceful kiss with him “Happy Valentine's day.”

A flood of warmth rushes through him again, the pulsing love continues to throb between them. "Happy Valentine's day."

Ratchet lets out a delightful hum then. "I have a gift for you. I've been working on it this week, and I hope you like it." Optimus is given the gift, and upon opening, he's astounded by just what Ratchet had given him. "It's a spike sleeve, with added ridges for stimulation, and I've added a mod that vibrates, providing excellent pleasure for us both."

Optimus can't hold back his growing smile. "It certainly is beautiful. How would you like to proceed?"

"I want you to decide. Tonight, I want you to do what you want." Usually, Optimus lets Ratchet decide and that's how it's been mostly.

Optimus is touched by his offer. "Are you sure?"

"I'm certain, my love."

"Then...perhaps tonight, I'll try it."

They proceed, sharing soft kisses while sitting on the berth and Ratchet slowly pumping at Optimus' spike, circling his digit across his twitching tip and using his other servo to rub between the folds of his valve, adding another skillful digit against his sensitive node. Ratchet knows how to take care of him, to bring him an adoring amount of pleasure at any pace possible.

Once throbbing hard, Ratchet helps slide the sleeve over his spike, slowly rolling it down and making sure it's snug around him. "How does that feel? Not too tight?"

"No, it's perfect, but I'm concerned about the girth. While it's...alluring, I don't want to hurt you."

"You could never hurt me, I promise."

Ratchet feels a rush of arousal rushing through him, frame quivering excitedly at the thought of being buried down on him, knowing the sleeve has extended his size and the added mod will provide even more pleasure. Moving himself, he straddles Optimus' lap, servos running across his shoulders onto the back of his helm.

Slowly, he positions himself over his spike and grinds down along the thick girth, gliding his valve along the length, his own spike now extended out and rubbing up against Optimus between their heated bodies. An emotion of thrill bursts out, full of love and happiness.

"Lay on the berth." Optimus says, wanting to be on top and face his lover. Ratchet doesn't hesitate and spreads his thighs wide for him to settle against. The mighty love pules through their sparks, desperately wanting to reach out to one another, but not yet.

"I love you, Optimus." Ratchet lets out a husky whisper, sharing another kiss, before finally feeling his thick spike slide into his eager valve, and indeed, the sleeve provided much more thickness for the medic to take, something he was more than happy to have buried deep in him.

Optimus lets out a low groan from his chassis as he clenches his dentas together, watching himself slowly sink into Ratchet, each rippled ridge passing his plump valve lips. It's intoxicating, watching yourself frag your lover, an addictive thrill Optimus always enjoyed.

Ratchet arches his back from the berth while using his servos to cling onto his lover's broad shoulders. "Primus. Feels wonderful. Please, Optimus, don't stop moving."

He didn't need to be told twice and continued to push himself inside, until he was fully embedded, and slowly drew his waist back and forth, gently rocking into him and keeping a slow pace. The size of his spike and the sleeve provided the perfect pleasure for them both, the rippled ridged gliding through Ratchet's valve as he clenched around him, letting out fierce moans.

Optimus smiles between his heated vents, grunting softly after each delivered thrust. Then, he remembers. "How do you activate the mod?"

Ratchet looks at him and lets out a greedy smirk. "So eager for it? Alright than." He had the activator, and once he does this, the sleeve starts vibrating. This causes both him and Optimus to let out surprised shouts through their eager groans.

The whole sleeve pulsed rapidly with the vibrations Ratchet had installed, never even testing it out on himself, this was the first, and he couldn't have praised himself even more just how damn clever he was. What a beautiful sensation he felt rushing through him.

"Optimus!" He cried out through a lingering mewl, thighs clenching firmly around his lover's thin waist as he pumped his spike into him rapidly. Optimus lets out heated grunts against Ratchet's neck, dentas nibbling against the sensitive cables as he rocks his hips against the medic in a firm and brisk pace, loving how the sleeve feels around his spike and buried deep in his lover.

Ratchet feels his channel stretching more, a bulging lump formed at his lower abdomen, craving and loving the feeling it gave him. His own spike and sensitive node is stimulated against Optimus through his rapid thrusts, increasing by the second, hips rutting against him over again. It was going to be over shortly, this they both knew, and they didn't hesitate holding back.

Without words, Optimus kisses Ratchet, glossas tangling together with hungry moans, devouring each others lips and swallowing one another's muffled sounds, right before Ratchet feels himself overload, spike shooting sticky fluids as his valve compulses, the thick spike suddenly throbbing even more before Optimus overloads deeply in him, letting out a muffled loud moan against the kiss.

Ratchet made sure that his fluids could be emptied inside him, even with the sleeve on, and lowered the vibrations to a stop as Optimus slowed his movements to soft jerks and lay half against his frame, cooling fans kicking in hard from both of them. His servo touches between them as he caresses the bump formed against him, loving out his pulsed under his servo.

"So, like the present?" Ratchet manages to ask between heated vents, feeling proud of himself and very satisfied.

"I adore it. Thank you." Optimus smiles, servo caressing his cheek plating and kissing him once more. "I love you."

"As I love you, darling."