#ratchet nails

[mrmeepsmadmind]

Metalhawk: bro stop calling my people NAILS

Starscream: if you tase me im gonna make u my dead wife istg

Wheeljack: why do your optics turn separate directions whenever i mention the word 'plan'.

Ratchet: yeah i have arthritis so idc if i die tbh :/

rodimus: im buying an rv and me and all these strangers (who like me more than u, not that it matters ) (im hot) are gonna * EXPLODES EVERYONE *

wheeljack, in the middle of discussing a very elaborate pain-staking plan:... ... something just exploded & i wasn't the cause 😢...

prowl: WHERE IS YOUR RAGE

needlenose: i sure love my big dumb evil husband. sure hope a disgruntled little popcorn kernel doesn't detonate a bomb in his head

Wheeljack: fuck my life

Starscream: i love lying, so, naturally-- im gonna become a politician.

ironhide: i saw the hat man

the intelligent Bumble (bee):

[kobiisworld]

What i think TFP’s nails would look like!! (Autobots)

Optimus prime

Short

Probably chipped in some places

Tries to keep up appearences- kindaa

Ratchet

Really short so he can work better when helping the rest of the auto bots

Keeps his nails HEALTHYY! Like the fancy oils and shit

Plain bc he doesnt really care abt the color, just the quality

Oh wait orrr

His nails are terrible bc he forgets to take care of them(workaholic tm)

Its a 50/50 tbh

Bumble bee

Black and yellow bc it matches his paint job

I feel like he would like to keep his nails fancy-ish bc its just pretty!!

Prob has to convince Ratchet to take a break so they can do nail care together like once a week

Arcee

Probably has been doing her nails the longest

Learned how to fight w her nails

Just yk casual ig?? I dont rly have any other ideas lol

Bulkhead

CAMO NAILS CAMO NAILS CAMO NAILS!!!

He would LOVE camo nails i cant say this enough

Like hes litterally a jeep

Def has chips , but he tries his best to keep them from getting too damaged, esp when ratchet does them

Lmk if u want pt 2 w any other characters?

[lancelotslair]

"Get This One Right And You'll Win A BRAAAND NEW ALT MOOOODE!" - Windsheer, mid-surgery, the Decepticons most annoying medic haha hehe transformer oc. He's a technically VERY skilled medic but he haas this oneeeee little flaw: he considers himself to be truly gifted and destined to be a glorious glorious Game Show Host. Few willingly play his games but hey short term kidnappings/using your patients while they're stuck under your control is always a good idea! Not shown here is his LOVELY assistant (in medical (mal)practice and show business) Showboat a triple changer whose alts are a Boat and Car grand prize yea he's a helicopter and has a dragonfly vibe goin on :) hes not intentionally malicious just annoying and a loosey goosey moral code also: this bit v

[on-blast]

Avoid em'. At ALL cost...

[jellysnail-draws]

Randomly remembered how Lawrence was a real one for knocking Qwark out in UYA to help his boss out lmao

Seriously

This was one of those rare moments I realized someone seemed to genuinely be on Nefarious’ side. Everyone else could be flakey, but Lawrence was the only one who stepped in to save Nef when he needed help and I just think about it a lot ok

Also do not mess with the butler or else he’ll knock your ass out fr. I love that he’s lowkey a threat too but he just doesn’t care enough to act on anything

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

OMG SHOW US THE HOCKEY THEMED RING 😍🤩

OKAY SO it’s really hard to see in the pic but i got this ring custom from a small shop im obsessed with during their black friday sale and it’s stamped with 13•37•76 because i’ve been having the time of my life writing hockey fic the last few months and it’s just kind of a reminder to me that i have this skill that im kind of good at and brings me joy 🥰

[haihoneys]

Afternoon Delight

Summary: The one where Seonghwa and reader are friends who are mutually pining for each other until an accident in the kitchen changes everything.

Word Count: 2,541

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Fem!Reader  

A/N: implied mutual pining!! there's literally barely any plot here lolol

Warnings: barely proof read. poor grammar in all kinds of ways. smuttttttt. unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering, fem receiving oral, mentions of a cut finger lolol

————

Everything happened so quickly… One minute, Seonghwa was chopping vegetables for the kababs you were preparing to throw on the grill. The next, he was hissing and dropping the knife to clatter against the island.

“Shit!” His curse was sharp as he sucked his bleeding finger into his mouth.

You gasped, discarding your own knife and reaching for the kitchen towel draped over the oven door handle. “Oh Hwa, let me see.”

A grimace twisted onto his face as he held his hand out to you. Thankfully, the cut isn’t nearly as bad as you’d expected. Some disinfectant and a bandage should do the trick. “C’mon, let’s get this cleaned up, hm?”

Seongwha waved you off, “I can handle it. Just tell me where the first aid kit is!”

You huffed, eyes rolling so hard Seonghwa was sure you caught a glimpse of your brain. “You’re my guest, Seonghwa. And you were helping me cook dinner! I’m not letting you clean and bandage a wound on your own.”

“Okay, first of all… It’s not a wound, Y/N. It’s barely a cut! I’m fine!” He chuckled as he said it, praying the heat working its way up his neck and cheeks wasn’t noticeable. The last thing he needed was you seeing him fucking blush over the fact that you wanted to take care of him like that. 

Then you grabbed his uninjured hand, your touch effectively pulling him out of his thoughts, and tugged towards the small bathroom just off the kitchen. You pulled him inside and nudged the door shut so you’d have better access to the cabinet where your first aid kit sat.

“Run your finger under the cold water while I find everything,” you instructed him, turning to gather your supplies. 

He did as he was told, rolling his eyes playfully at your bossiness. 

Once you had everything you needed to fix him up, you turned back to him and gently took his injured hand. “This might sting a bit,” you mumbled as you took a peroxide-soaked cotton ball and dabbed at his finger.

Seonghwa hissed and flinched, jerking his hand back and cradling it against his chest. 

Scoffing, you took his hand and dabbed at it a second time, tightening your grip ever so slightly when he tried to pull away again. “Okay, now it didn’t hurt that bad. Don’t be a baby.”

He pouted down at you, bottom lip jutting out comically. “I’m not being a bab- OW!” 

You snorted as you tossed the cotton ball into the trash can and reached for a bandage. “Yeah,” you laughed, “you are.”

You opened the bandage, peeling the paper off and letting it fall to the counter as you readjusted your grip on his hand so you could wrap it around his finger. When it was securely in place, you brought it up to your lips and pressed a soft kiss to it. 

“There, all better.” You smiled up at him, and his breath caught in his throat at the warmth on your face. 

Without thinking, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to yours. It was a whisper of a kiss, his lips just barely brushing over yours before he pulled back. You blinked up at him, eyes so wide it would have been comical in any other setting, but were otherwise unmoving.

Seonghwa started to apologize, taking your stunned silence as a rejection. His anxiety ratcheted up, pulse pounding in his ears.

Then you surged forward, hands fisting his shirt so tightly your nails probably could have torn the fabric had they been a fraction sharper. You pulled him into you and smashed your mouth back to his, drawing a groan from deep in his chest. It was raw and primal, and it went straight to your cunt. 

It felt like his hands were everywhere. Your hair. Your ass. Your thighs. Your face. He couldn’t get enough. He wanted to feel every inch of you. Then he wanted to taste it. He’s wanted to find a bed or even a couch, somewhere soft where he could spread you out and take his time with you. Draw out your pleasure and his own until neither of you could function anymore. But right then… he needed you right that instant, or he honestly might have dropped dead at your feet. 

He had you pressed up against the door, one hand tangled in your hair and the other gripping the hem of your skirt. 

“Tell me to stop, and I will. We can go back out there and act like this never happened.” And he was fully prepared to do just that. He was man enough to do that if that’s what you wanted. 

“Please,” it’s a sweet little sound, and he thought he felt his heart stop in his chest at the desperation in your voice, “Please don’t stop.” 

He hummed and started kissing and sucking and biting at your neck, hands moving to hike your skirt up around your waist. Long, deft fingers started tracing you over your panties, smirking when you moaned his name. 

“Shhh, I got you baby,” he mumbled into the skin of your neck. 

His fingers hooked into the side of your panties, pulling them aside so he could rub at your clit. Slow and teasing movements that have you melting into his touch. 

Then he slipped a finger inside you, and he practically dropped to his knees when he felt how truly wet you were for him already. Seonghwa wanted to drink you in, make you cum all over his face, then lick you clean before starting over from the beginning. He crooked his finger forward, testing the angle and pressure until you pitched forward in arms. He keeps rubbing there, the feeling near torturous as he adds another finger and twists his wrist so that the heel of his hand is grinding into your clit with a delicious pressure. 

You clawed at him, ready to rip your pleasure from his bare skin if you needed to. You muttered some strangled version of his name combined with “please” and he can't take it anymore.

He dropped to his knees in front of you, hoisting one of your legs up onto his shoulder, and dove into you. 

His inhumanly long tongue laved over your clit before he wrapped his mouth fully around it, fingers still furiously working against that sweet spot inside you. He groaned into your pussy, and the vibrations of it nearly did you in. Your vision was going white around the edges; you were so close you could taste it.

Without a warning, he pulled away. The loss of his mouth made you want to cry. You start to beg, ready to promise him anything, offer up your very soul, if he would just put his mouth back on you.

“Need you to cum baby. Can you do that for me?” He kissed the request into the plush flesh just under your belly button, tongue slowly licking his way back down towards your pussy. 

Long lashes fluttered up at you as he wrapped his lips around your clit, holding your gaze as he sucked hard enough to hollow out his cheeks. And that’s the image that sent you into complete oblivion. Seeing this man on his knees for you… it’s a piece of artwork you’d never forget. 

Seonghwa worked you through it gently, letting you ride out your high on his tongue and fingers until you were trembling above him. He brought your leg back down, tenderly stroking up and down your thigh as he stood. 

He leaned in, mouth just barely hovering above yours as he whispered, “You did so great for me.” Then he kissed you again, the taste of you still on his tongue making you moan into his mouth.

He tried to take it slow, to be sweet and gentle in the wake of your orgasm. But when you moaned like that.. the tether he had on his self-control snapped. 

Strong hands gripped your hips and spun you around to face the mirror. He nudged your feet apart, making just enough room for him between your thighs. 

“Hold on to the counter,” it was more of a command than a request, his voice so deep and guttural it sent a shiver down your spine. You did as you were told and looked up to watch his face as he admired you. You deepened your arch a little and he found your gaze in the mirror. 

Your head was still swimming; you didn’t even register the fact that he’d undone his pants and pulled out his cock. Something you want to remedy. Soon. 

He stroked himself, plush bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he stared down at your cunt peeking from between your thighs. Then he stepped forward and rutted against you, both of you moaning when his tip caught at your entrance, just shy of sliding home. You were ready to beg for him again when he gave you the sweet relief of actually pushing inside. 

A strangled gasp tore from your throat as he bottomed out. You weren’t expecting the searing ecstasy that spread through your body at the feel of him, his thighs pressed flush to the back of yours. 

He had one hand gripping your hip so tightly you swore there would be little indents of his fingers there for days to come; the other hand was pressed against the glass of the mirror. He rocked back slowly, and the deliciously heavy drag of his cock had you whining and keening for him.

Seonghwa shhhed you and pressed kisses to your neck and ear, murmuring something about other people being able to hear. Caught up in the heat of the moment, you had completely forgotten about the other friends you’d invited over for dinner. Most of them definitely within earshot.

But you didn’t care. Let them hear! They could have a front-row seat for all you cared. 

Seonghwa knew better than that, though. He knew that when all was said and done, once you were more level-headed, you would be mortified if anyone heard you. So he contorted himself and leaned back to fumble with the shower, spinning the handle to turn the spray nearly all the way up in hopes of muffling the sounds. 

He turned back to you and folded himself over you, thrusting back up into you to the hilt. It had you squealing, clawing at the countertop for purchase, anything to grip onto. Steam filled the room quickly, condensation turning everything into a slippery hazard. He slapped a hand against the mirror, trying to find his own leverage. His hips are pounded into your ass, the tip of his cock kissing at your cervix. 

He finally gave up trying to gain any actual leverage in that position, moving both hands to grip at your hips and pulling you into him as he fucks in and out of you. You weren’t even forming coherent words at that point, just a blubbering mess begging for him. You didn’t even know what you were begging for… you thought if it got any better, you might actually see god and all his angels

Then Seonghwa growled out a low “fuck” and pulled all the way out of you. You didn’t even have time to protest or question what he was doing before he spun you around and grabbed the backs of your thighs to hoist you up on the counter. 

More than a little disoriented from being manhandled into the new position, you started to fall back against the mirror. But he was still present enough to shoot out a hand and cup the back of your head, cushioning the slight impact just before your skull made contact with the glass.

It was such a juxtaposition, the tenderness of that act compared to the lewdness of you sitting there spread open to him and him standing with his cock out and leaking precum. 

You were both panting, heavy breaths only adding to the growing heat of the room. He hooked his hands behind your knees and pulled you so that your ass was barely resting on the counter. “Keep holding on baby. Don’t want you to fall.” 

With one hand, you gripped the edge of the counter, the other winding into his hair just as he slid back into you. You moaned out his name, and he was pretty certain he could die a happy man right at that moment. 

He kissed you again, swallowing all your sounds as he set the same brutal pace he had just a heartbeat ago. It’s wet and messy, all clashing teeth and bitten lips.

“Touch yourself for me,” he mumbled into your mouth, pressing his forehead to yours so he could watch with heavy-lidded eyes as you slithered your hand between your bodies to swirl tight little circles against your clit.

It only took a moment before white-hot pleasure was licking its way up your spine, stars bursting behind your eyelids. You cried out as you came, his name a song on your lips. 

You went soft and pliant then, your arms winding around his neck to pull impossibly closer to you. You kissed his temple, murmuring sweet things about how he’s making you feel so good, how he’s stretching you out and filling you up so perfectly that he must have been made for you. 

His thrusts turned sloppy then, jerking and stilted. With a groan of your name, Seonghwa pulled out and stroked his cock in brutally quick movements. He came with a deep moan, hot cum painting over your pussy and thighs. 

He leaned against you, his head resting on your shoulder as he caught his breath. You ran your fingers through his hair and pressed kisses to the side of his head and face. 

The small bathroom was suddenly quiet except for your heavy breathing and the soft hissing of the shower. When he finally came to and realized what a mess he made of you, he fumbled around the bathroom until he found a washcloth and ran it under the (now lukewarm) water from the shower before shutting it off and turning back to you. 

You tried to take the washcloth from him, but he grunted and swatted your hands away. He gently reached between your thighs and rubbed at your pussy before cleaning off the mess on your thighs. 

He tossed the rag into the shower and tucked himself back into his pants before helping you off the counter and readjusting your skirt. He swiped your panties off the floor and tucked them in his back pocket.

“Those are mine,” you tease with a laugh. 

“Not anymore, they’re not.” He kissed your temple and smoothed your hair out of your face. “You did so well for me, angel.” 

You melted into him, not expecting the words to have that much of an effect. You hummed and nuzzled further into his chest, his hands petting over your hair. 

A knock on the door startled you out of your peaceful little bubble. “Are you two almost done in there? I’m about to piss myself!” Wooyoung whined before shaking the door knob.

[transformers-spike]

imagine painting your nails so that the color matches a bots plating and showing your nails off to them excitedly, i feel like half of them would be like "aww" while the other half would immediately take you to fragtown

Ohhhh boy I'm mostly going for TFP Those with notable reactions would be Smokescreen and Knock Out. Smokescreen because he's going feral over this because what do you mean you can paint your keratin??? and his colors too???? He's telling literally everyone about this he's so ecstatic about it. Knock Out would plan on fragging you the second he realizes what you're doing. At first it's just him assuming you're decorating yourself - then you admit you chose the color because of him, and his processor malfunctions for a few seconds. It reboots and now he's on a mission to fluster you into fragging. Honorable mentions include Bulkhead and Breakdown whose cooling fans immediately kick in and they want to frag you so bad but are too shy to bring it up. Don't worry, Breakdown manages to snap out of it and awkwardly offers it later on. Starscream would huff say at least someone has good tastes. He'll tease you for it, sure - but won't frag you until you beg for it.

Bumblebee is as excited as you, he's beeping happily and showing you off to everyone else. Arcee is touched by the gesture, and her first reaction would be to flirt with you and watch as you shrivel up from shyness. Ratchet says he appreciates it and immediately goes back to work. But it's only hours later that it hits him and now he's got his face buried in his servos because fraggggggg oh Primus you actually did it for him. Everyone else would be flattered but mostly disinterested. Don't hold it against them, they're stressed out of their minds. Except Airachnid who jokes about wanting to preserve your hands forever. Yikes, can you maybe chill?

[enigmatist17]

I was right in the path of the snowstorm that hit us this week (and another coming this weekend yaaaay), and thought of my boys :)

This is part of the Mecha Pilot AU by @keferon :)

My other AU fics here

---

"RATTY, WHAT IS ALL THIS STUFF?"

Deadlock didn't yell, at least not that Ratchet had ever heard, and he sure as hell never sounded uncertain.

"What're you goin' on about?" The mechanic certainly didn't have some pep in his step as he hurried to his Cybertronian, a wrench gripped in one hand as he headed to the personal bay he'd set up for Deadlock. The door was open, revealing a heavy snowfall that Ratchet had forgotten about, the mech staring at the weather with a glare.

"What is it?!" His plating rattled in slight discomfort as Ratchet raised an optic ridge (no, eyebrow? Eh, he'll ask later) at him, clearly unconcerned by the strange weather. "The sky hasn't done this before."

"That would be because it hasn't gotten cold enough 'til now." The wrench in his hand gets shoved into his toolbelt, and despite the lack of his jacket, Ratchet steps out into the snow with an amused smirk. "See? Safe an' sound." True to his words, Ratchet didn't appear in any pain, aside from a shiver that wracked his frame as the white flakes started to coat him. "It's called snow."

"Why is there snow? It has been cold for days now, your bitching about it has told me that enough." Slowly, the mech reached out to Ratchet, his digit twitching when the first few flakes landed on it, but no warnings popped up in his HUD.

"We didn't have the right temperature for the water vapor in the air to condense, but we do now. I forgot we were even gettin' a storm, which means getting home is going to be a bitch and a half."

"You drive in this stuff?" The Cybertronian asked, letting the curiosity running through his processor bleed through more than he usually would have done. "Is it not dangerous?"

"Well yea, but we've adapted over the years." The human responded as he moved to come in from the snow, Deadlock using his hand as a cover. "Sit here, let me go get my jacket and other boots on."

"Alright." Deadlock watched Ratchet head back inside his shop floor before returning his optics to the snowy landscape in front of him. He had seen something resembling this snow a few times, but it had been through quick pit stops at planets to scavenge shards of energon that left him no time to actually examine the frozen precipitation. It's cold against his servo when Deadlock scoops up a generous helping of the snow, compacting into a vague ball shape when he closes his servo into a fist, remaining solid even after he grabs it with his other servo.

"We call that a snowball." Ratchet had also put on a hat and some servo coverings, crouching to scoop up his own snow. "I'd rather you not throw that one at me, but pick and target and launch."

"Is this snow a weapon?" Now that got his attention, the assassin picked out a random tree and launched the snowball as hard as he could, all of the collected snow on the branches falling off as it connected with a loud thud.

"Not as effective ones, that's for sure." Ratchet snorted, nailing a nearby parked car right in the windshield. "Nah, it's for fun usually, though you're gonna kill me with how hard you threw yours."

"I'd never hurt you Ratty." Deadlock purred, offering his servo with a grin. "I want to see more."

"C'mon, the lake might be frozen over." Ratchet hopped up onto the offered limb, bracing himself against the wind as Deadlock began to venture out into the snowy forest, pausing every so often to look at the snow-covered trees and rocks in interest. "So Cybertron doesn't have snow?"

"Not that I was ever aware of? What we consider organic on Cybertron isn't the same definition for you."

"Fair enough." Ratchet lapsed into silence as Deadlock headed to the lake he had crash-landed next to what felt like a lifetime ago, the mech clearly surprised by the sight when they reached the clearing. "Well?"

"..." Deadlock carefully set his human down before approaching the water's edge, the surface now solid to the touch. "This is...cool."

"Yes it is." Ratchet snorted as he joined the mech, testing the ice with one foot. "Hm, might be strong enough..."

"For what?" The mechanic looked up with an amused look before taking a step forward, Deadlock watching in slight awe as he began to walk on water like he was strolling on normal ground.

"You can't always do this, but sometimes we get lucky. It is pretty cool." He grinned, the alien reaching over to steady him with a digit when Ratchet wobbled slightly. "Thanks."

"As much as I kinda don't like your planet all this much, I could come to like this snow and ice." The assassin purred, using his digit to lazily pull Ratchet around on the ice in a random pattern.

"Not the biggest fan, but I do enjoy the occasional snow day myself." Ratchet shrugged as he did a poor man's version of ice skating, only upright do to his tight hold on Deadlock's digit. "Glad you're enjoying it."

"Only because I'm with you." The look on Ratchet's face made the corny line more than worth it, Deadlock chuckling as he continued pulling the human around on the ice. "How long will it be like this?"

"I don't know, probably a few days. Best enjoy it while we've got it."

"Works for me." Sure, Ratchet can't feel much of his body by the time Deadlock decides he's done enjoying the view, but it wasn't all bad when he's carefully placed inside the mech's warm interior for the trek back. They end up dozing off in Ratchet's workshop when neither of them feels like dealing with what would be a nasty drive to Ratchet's home, the falling snow filtering through the moonlight lulling them both to sleep.

[tinydefector]

I was just interested if you were a suckered for the clothing and fabric and perfume trope as I am. In the sense where fabrics and a abundance of organic flora was considered more common for higher class cybertronains but that even then it was pretty scarce. Imagine a bot or con after getting over their fears or mild disgust of the squishness of humans so to speak the next few things they notice is how many types of hair there are. How many styles and how many different ways to dye said hair. It drives them nuts the feel such softer fibers all together to make a more denser form. Curled,staight,wavy it all catches their optics. Painted nails almost similar to paint for their frames. Tattoos so intriguing. A human willingly damaging their surface that is more fragile than their metallic frames. It's a living scar. And they can't help but slowly come to love it to when they see how much their human complain does. But fabric? God they almost get drunk off of it. When they get a hug they shiver at the smooth article that brushes on their frame. The variety. So many styles and colors. So many meaning behind patterns and techniques. They can't help but almost grow jealous hearing how far back a simple stich can come from in human history. Humanity dressing itself in plush silks and flimsy polyester but it's all gold compared to what the cybertronains have come to crave. Imagine them having made themselves smaller so they could be inside your living space and they can't help but notice all the fabrics. All the plush surfaces. Their in heaven fully convinced they're going to meet the great primes. And if you had a scented burning candle? Sweet or citrus they can't help but want to inhale deeply to capture the scent. Perfumes? God their drunk whenever a human walks into a enclosed space because all mechs and femmes are fighting themselves to not snatch you up and keep you. If you use scented body wash or scented lotion then can practically taste it on your skin if you are near or hug them. They crave it when it's late at night and they've got you sobbing and thighs shaking as they kiss and lap at your scented thighs. And if theirs multiple humans in a space? That almost has a bot slurring their words as iff they just had the best energon. Just some thoughts haha I'm very sorry it's so long. I'm just a suckered for all these headcanons and just how while they may be disgusted and have hatred for humanity some fo them can't help but swoon for so many qualitys of their human companions that are nothing like their skin. So soft and complaint and so very warm at heart.

So I do have some fics on this stuff one is

Ratchet x reader. Involving perfumes effecting cybertronians like a sex potion or sex pollen.

Then I have

Starscream x reader. Involving the infamous dress and him testing out different outfits on his partner.

This small collection of bots reacting to nipple piercings (was like my first fic I ever wrote here)

_________________

I am quite a sucker for the clothing and fabric and perfume trope. I really enjoy writing cybertronians who adore seeing their partner drapped in shimmering fabrics. Becuase to the human its could just be a satin sheet, but to the cybertronian it is luxury, it showcases so much about you and every chance they get they love getting to just feel or touch the fabrics.

Imagine: your cybertronian is sat on theirs berth which is a mix of almost foam matting(yoga mat/ expanding foam) They don't lay on just metal but it's not particularly comfortable for their human. So one day, they introduced them to memory foam, and its like the bots world has opened up. It becomes a soft, comfortable recharge. But as you start bringing sheets, blankets, and your pillows, it makes the bots feel as if they are falling in love. They love it when you drape the soft fabric over them and make yourself almost a next on their chassis with the soft bedding. To they it feels like a luxury that you are pampering them even if it's just to make yourself more comfortable. It's the fact you leave them in their suite on their berth take makes their spark clench in delight knowing you'll be coming back.

I also tend to write cybertronains have alot more nasal sensors and detectors to the point they can break down the partials to annalise them. The smell of fresh lining is something that effects them almost like catnip with a cat. They will roll around in the fabric optics wide. Engines roaring in delight. As their joints squeak and clank against the walls.

I also love writing that Fabric was something that only the Highest of society had on cybertron, but mainly due to have small the fibers are it is extremely hard for cybertronains to replicate the material, so it fetched for high prices when Imported from organic planets. If you were of the lower classes, you would be lucky if you had a tarp or some sort of soft plastic as it was also still very sort after. So you can imagine how the cybertronains reacted once on earth, even while undercover. Fabric is such a huge part of human culture that cybertronians, when they find even just a pretty scrap of Fabric, keep it as a token. As if to say "frag you" to the universe.

But I can also see a human finding the stash of Fabric cut off's and offering to sew them all together in an almost patchwork like blanket for their bot and you can bet your ass you will have that cybertronian on thier knees worshipping you for it.

______

"Hey, we have hail forecasted," their voice calls out to the vehicle parked in the driveway. The cybertronian is rather quiet as they register what was said to them. "It isn't acid rain, so it won't be anything too bad." they try to argue only to have a large old blanket thrown over them. "Hey, what are you doing?" It sends shock throught their system having something so soft drapped over their frame.

"I'm covering you up so you don't get hail damage, I sadly can't get you into the garage at the moment so the next best thing I can do is cover you up with some blankets and a tarp so you don't get damaged by ice falling out of the sky" they explain as they throw another over the vehicle. Making sure to fully cover the bot before throwing a waterproof tarp over them, too. "Sorry, I don't have anything better than this, but it will keep you dry and our of harm's way." Those words hit their spark in a way they never would have thought it would. They are left almost speechless, cosy, and somewhat warm as the hailstorm rolls in.

________________

When it comes to hair colour, skin colour, and tattoos. It fascinates them so much to see such diversity and colour on a species they originally believed to be quite dull. It gets to the point when making their holoform avatars they love exploring and expressing themselves as if making a sims character. Even going as far as some get custom paint jobs of the tattoos, they get on their avatars because, for them, it's the closest thing they can have to tattoos. But think about you getting a tattoo in a shop right across from where your cybertronian partner is getting their paint job because it was a cute couples day out.

And don't get me started on how much cybertronians love human's hair. The fibers are so different to them and they love the feeling of it, they just have to be very careful when running a digit theought thier lovers hair as to not get it jammed in the joints causing you pain.

Another thing that cybertronians are fascinated by is humans' willingness to injure themselves in the name of beauty. From tattoos, piercings, injections, and surgery. In honesty, it's not that different from frame ulteration, but they don't know how a human can do it. The bots can turn their pain sensors off while humans are just soldier on through it.

I love the idea that the bots also horde car freshners that their humans get them. It becomes a full-on pokemon card situation of them trading double ups, begging their partner to get them others so they can rub it in their friends' faces. But air freshners weren't a thing until Earth, and the bots love how it makes their frame smell different from the oil, grease, and car smell.

But perfumes gods I love the idea that perfumes have a certain chemical reaction to Cybertronian systems to the point to turns them into a raging horny bot who can't get enough of how your skin taste and how desperately they try to literally lick the perfume off your skin as if it were the riches and most expensive high grade energex on the market. It also leads to a lot of personal working with the bots not being allowed to wear perfume/cologne. Deodorants don't affect them the same way, but they also enjoy how they smell quite a bit.

But yes I love the idea of perfumes pretty much working like a pheromone spray and don't get me started on actual pheromones spray, your not leaving that bots berth for atleast 3 days, they will bring you food, water and anything you want but it literally overrides their system protocol and makes them desperate to breed you.

In conclusion, DO NOT wear perfume or Pheromone spray near the bots unless you don't intend to be leaving the berth for at least 3 days if not more becyase they can and will keep you their.

________________

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[whirlybirbs]

It’s been so long since our hyperfixations overlapped >:)))

Ok after the last lil bit you did I’m just kinda imagining him watching Moth interact with Johnny and being jealous of both of them (cause Johnny is HIS friend back off Moth but also bc Johnny made Moth smile so brightly, how?? Please tell him how???) pretty please with cherries on top ♥️🍒

2. handler's manual — ghost / reader

desc: moth & johnny spar. ghost is in a bad mood. moth's theories grow. pairing: lt. simon "ghost" riley / f!reader ; callsign: moth a/n: honestly moth & johnny sharing their spotify wrapped is like air to me — you just know soap's was, like, Nu Divorced Dad Strut Rock or something. also, ghost works out in complete total silence like the apex predator he is, you cannot change my mind on this. ⇽ prev / next ⇾

"Woah, easy up, Pilates Princess—"

You punch the pad a little harder for that — but the smirk on your face tells Johnny know you're not really mad. If you were, you woulda gone for his nuts.

"I told you that in confidence," you pant, landing a well timed pattern of strikes in a loop of three, "And you're using it against me?"

"It's yer Spotify Wrapped," Johnny chirps back, lowering himself in a sturdier stance as you strike — left, left, right, left. Left, left, right, left, "An' tha' makes it yer problem, lass."

"Don't you lass me—"

You nail an easy transition into a different flow — right, left, right, left, left, right.

"Pure dead brilliant, Moth!" Johnny grins as your gloves connect with the pads in rhythm. He's quick to drop them, smack your arm, and throw an arm around your shoulder, "Pilates Princess is gettin' good, ae?"

You snort, shoving the sweaty Scotsman off of you with a smile; Johnny's a good man. A bit of a bastard, but patient enough to agree to spar with you on an off-day. "Shut up—"

Across the gym, the heavy pummel of a punching bag ratchets up and the blaring ring of the chain is loud enough to make you flinch. You wet your lips, turn your head towards the sound, and Johnny immediately whistles at the sight of a certain Lieutenant raining holy fire on the bag in the corner.

Heavy hoodie, heavy sweats, beat-to-shit trainers. He's dripping sweat, that much is clear from the darkened stains along the back of the SAS 22ND REG P.T. gear. It's Lieutenant Riley. And he's not stopping.

Because, aye, come th' fuck on. You're makin' 'im feel fuckin' mental. Since when are you an' Johnny friendly enough t' chinwag to th' moon and back, huh? John MacTavish is his only fuckin' friend. An' 'ere you come, all sunshine an' daisies —

Th' fuck is even a Spotify Wrapped anyway...?

You pop your hands on your waist as you try to catch your breath.

Must be a bad day for the Lieutenant. What's on the menu for lunch? You wonder what sort of phase the moon is in and if Phillip Graves is even on base. Additional factors could include: lack of caffeine (his usual shaker bottle is absent?), mismatched socks (indicative of missed laundry day?), balaclava preference (this one he rarely wears — uncomfortable?).

You slide Johnny a look.

Johnny slides it right back.

Then:

"Don't look a' me like tha', m' not fuckin' talkin' t' 'im."

[milksockets]

why scan?

scanning is something i've done for probably about 12 years now (i'm ancient, for this site), with varying degrees of regularity, intensity, etc. it has ratcheted up since the dawn of 2023, though, which begs the question: why? why put so much time into what could not-wrongly be considered a passive activity, hunched over a piece of clunky machinery with the express purpose of preserving others' creations? the answers are several, and fascinating (not really).

i am a [sober] drug addict. anything i pursue, consume, create--more often than not--ends up taking on addictive qualities. i'll eat the same specific food item for a month, then never want to see, let alone taste it, again. i'll listen to one song on repeat for days until i'd rather hear nails on a chalkboard than have it shuffle on and assault my ears. one of the reasons that my scanning has increased in volume recently is that i acquired library cards to the 3 nyc library systems: nypl, brooklyn, and queens. as soon as i was able to, i pillaged + plundered those fine centers of learning, leaving any given library with as many hefty scan-worthy books as i could [barely] carry. here, finally, was a *free* way of obtaining more + more + more visual media to consume.

2023 saw me get my first legal, full-time job. as such, my adjusting to that hellish reality resulted in a steep decline in my own personal creative output. collaging, writing, and rapping all fell to the wayside as i slowly acclimated to a life of work that almost everyone else my age has known for over a decade is generally unbearable + detrimental to the maintenance of outside pursuits. in times of famine within my own artistic harvest, scanning, archiving, and sharing others' work is a means of feeling as though i am still contributing to the global oeuvre.

there’s an element of losing my mental self in a series of physical motions that becomes almost automatic after some time. “zoning out” is not something endemic to my daily life; if anything, i’m almost always too zoned in. relief is necessary.  especially considering the shitshow this past year has been in terms of my personal life.

i am a product of capitalism’s cultivating a craving for constant consumption. 

it seems that visual content is only going to continue to get more + more uninspired. has everything been done? did social media ruin it all? in any case, i feel a need to document the past. to a degree, it’s my version of doomsday prepping. (god forbid books go extinct altogether.) 

i have always gravitated towards solitary activities. this topic could be a thesis in its own right.

i thrive on external validation. this reliance is something i’ve improved upon over the past several years, but it hasn’t been altogether extinguished. even though the materials i scan are not of my own creation, i nevertheless feel a vague pride in showcasing them. occasional appreciation thereof satisfies this fixation on others’ attention, albeit in a diluted form. 

i am fortunate to live in a city bursting to the gills with cultural institutions. i am also lucky enough to have some disposable income that can be directed toward fulfilling my ravenous desire for visual media. 

((i keep getting messages about the specifics of my scanner + "process":

i have a cheap ass hp envy 6055e and i just use the software it comes with.

there's nothing special or fancy happening here, and i could definitely invest in a better and/or a large format scanner, etc. but i really just don't care enough and it's not like i'm getting paid for this lmao))

[crying-fantasies]

Bathing

Masterlist

Featuring TFA! Optimus Prime, Smut/fluff/humor, CW: The reader wants the robot, kissing, indecent thoughts, use of lube/fluid, painful stretch, penetration, and mass displacement, mention of off comments about xenophobia (it's the Animated universe), Optimus is a prudent lover, get yourself someone that looks at you like Optimus does.

Cold cleansing fluid over an exhausted frame is always a pleasure, a way to wind out stress over his depleted circuits, a moment of peace or a good place hidden from the others to let out his frustration in more than one way, be it screaming or just standing there in complete silence, overthinking on his judgment and what he can do to better himself.

Cold fluid doesn't go well with you, what is a nice cold for him is a frostbite inducing juice for you, and you could get cooked by warm fluid, took a moment to finally adapt.

You’re nothing but adaptable, and Optimus has problems following your lead when your idea to use his washing room first appears, your patience is a prominent factor in the whole process.

“Is it okay for me to-?”

Your words would hardly keep at bay the need in them while holding his hips flush to yours, feeling the plush give of your skin, the warmth of your welcoming arms as they hold his back strut, still bigger than you, but in this size, it so much easier to left the drain closed, let it flood the closed compartment, you catch his interest with the way your fingers drag nails over his plating, sending tremors down his frame as you pull him down and your tiptoes do what they can to put you closer, Optimus has kissed you before, many times, and he still can't get enough, you're so brave but also so greedy, he is reminded of such when your tongue makes contact with his derma, making him vent hot steam and soon welcoming your intrusion, holding your hips over, letting himself be greedy, be passionate in other ways as his leg strut helps you to be near, your legs don't hold onto his hips as the fluid is already so helpful to let you float if only a bit, gives you free rein to show your greedy affection, one that shines bright for the both of you when he still struggles to let you know of his more openly outside a little tease that only earns him a kiss as a “you tried”.

Cybertronians are very closed of mind when it comes to a lot of things like tastes or preferences, but if you could condense it to a more basic point, it would be that Autobots can't show their very own selves, pressured under way too many rules, such scrutiny since the moment they get forged, you're no stranger or could oversee how they handle themselves or one another, while the first guys are way more open with how they are you get to learn that such factors of theirs are what got them in so much trouble in the first place when Sentinel and even the very one autobot leader arrived, well, they put down just what they thought of organics while also making some off comments about the bots under their rank.

Bumblebee is an exception to that, being his very own dorky self, and also being the first one to end up in a dead-end worker group, Bulkhead got out of his shell too, with time, being a variant since heavy worker frames shouldn't invest their time in fine arts, Prowl is never quiet about his love for organic life and Jazz seems to learn a thing or two about it if the way he greets you now if anything to go by, Ratchet is, as always, unapologetic in what he thinks, experience and life itself making him see what is import above species, ages or even beliefs.

Optimus was the harder to crack open, but almost dying not once but twice makes him see that, yeah, the autobot code isn't absolute for everything, and once he does doesn't take much for him to finally make a double take and, okay, maybe he does like you in some way that isn't becoming of an autobot, no matter how lower is the rank.

Still, not even the fact of almost dying two times makes it any easier to leave behind what he has always been taught since the time in the academy or the very same cycle he was forged, Optimus struggles with the bare minimum of open affection, hand holding is hard as it is since he is way bigger than you, he is holding his gaze down or shielding you with his frame when a poisonous gaze over you or whoever that is composed of meat and not metal, but Optimus is kind, he is sweet, he just struggles with tenderness between different species just as normally as anyone should, you also have problems with it as both are in the same boat.

Optimus is tenderness impersonated, but he is also the embodiment of awkwardness, especially when there is a moment you want to be intimate, trying to appear collected, the voice of reason, the first one to say “It won't fit” when he is still way taller than you while mass displaced, and yes, he is the one to push you away a bit even when his face can't be more flushed by energon as his servos press against you, but you let it go, because he has a point, it won't fit just like that.

Thus, is your explanation on why you had dragged him back to a bathing house in the next town, a place big enough for him to move around, once inside the underground parking lot, no prying optics to see in such an old place, Optimus is still amazed by the rudimentary environment, too familiar with Detroit and the futuristic lifestyle, it was shocking for him to see that not everyone has a robot maid or a talking Roomba, even more when he notices that the bathhouse is so old that they still used powder soap that he can trace in the walls, engraved by years of use and natural chemicals in an abstract gallery in the forgotten paint.

A glimpse into the old ways of humanity and Optimus looks at you with sincere appreciation, the place has been abandoned for years, but the water is still running, hot and natural, at first he is weirded out by your suggestion, being the voice of reason against your horny self that knew almost no boundaries since the moment your greedy hands got into private, confidential information when he didn't notice you walking into his berthroom.

“What about an infection?”

“What about your dick in my-?”, he never lets you finish, a servo soon over your mouth, but you bet it is more due to making him feel strained against his panels than real prudence if the colorful blue of his is anything to go by. He is sweet, the most kind you've ever dated, with his helm well placed over his shoulders to think first about your overall wellness over the pleasure, but that precious part of him is only adding fire to the growing hell fire in your pants because there is nothing more precious and hot than such a gentlemech that really likes you, what's more, letting yourself hope he loves you. If he does love you, then the minimum thing you could do is at least try to suck his intake until he is begging for mercy or grunting over your ear to the point of losing yourself only for him to take back together in his arms.

The answer, hidden in plain sight in front of you, comes when you take some time with him inside his berthroom, Optimus cycles his optics once, then twice when you seem to find bountiful heaven in his private washroom, eyes bright and mouth covered by your hands, almost like you were soon to fall to your knees by some kind of miracle, “anything important there?”. Optimus realizes, soon enough, that that shiny twinkle in your eyes is anything but a promise of your deviant wishes.

One request got an answer, a very heated one, and before he could say anything beyond the “Are you sure?” you were soon getting your underwear out, leg propped up against the wall.

Turns out, the desire humans could show was really beyond the understanding of a cybertronian, or Optimus was truly out of his element while you tried if the cleaning fluid would do any harm to you once he checked the chemical components twice, only heated it a tad bit more and you were ready to go.

Optimus has half the processor to repent for his lack of loving gestures toward you, is anything, he has hardly some time to do so much as your hand reaches around the seams of his modesty panel, letting go of his dermas to let him feel the drops of fluid falling to his face plate as you delve deeper into his frame, he embraces you in the right way, holding and finally showing his version of unbound passion as his derma kisses softly over your exposed neck, trying to see once again what he is keeping away from you, a hard squeeze down there has his denta barely scratching over your skin as he gives you the most reverent and hot gaze he has ever shot at your direction, “can you show me again, big guy?”

The washing room isn't the only thing flooding if the pinkish fluid streaming out of his panel is something to lead yourself, at first as a question, but of course, with an alien lover comes more than one interesting detail about his anatomy that you're eager to learn about, Optimus can hardly hold his mind together when you hold him for the first time, dragging the tip of his spike over your entrance, teasing, and he has to bite down a nasty comment, but he is sure a steaming “you're fragging hot” is way too bland for you, no matter as it seems as you laugh breathlessly, hardly reaching the button to stop the fluid from falling over you, it doesn't stop you, your fingers doing quick work to use it as extra moisture, all he can say, or do, is a sound between a wheeze and a laugh by the way you clamp down on him, there are no words above a function glitch when you keep down and down. Servos dragging over your exposed skin, he fears you could fall from his hold, your hands pushing at his shoulder armor, only to realize your wandering and lustful gaze when your bodies connect, he also follows your eyes, looking how he is almost all inside, your body almost freefalls again, his servos hold on your midsection, one soon flying to protect your head from any impact against the wall, must be fear, must be the way he reached inside in a different angle, almost sure he poked a bone or something else, so little, so sweet, you drag him in, kissing him senseless as he seems to have done a right move if the lovely sound you drown on his dermas and the squeeze that almost makes him bluescreen.

“See that?”, your hips move, undulating, the fluids drenching you from head to toe, drops falling slowly over your curves, over that little rise of your skin where he is sure the tip of his spike is teasing against your flesh, “it did fit”.

.

Optimus with a gremlin-like partner is something I love dearly, not sure who asked for the prompt with TFA Optimus but it was a delight, dear.

@tf-kinktober2024

[bots-and-cons]

Could you do a reader who has low iron? Platonic pls(characters are up to you) thank you for reading this your blog gives me life

A/N: Thank you, I’m so happy to hear you like my blog. I picked our two medics since this is a medical thing

~Ratchet~

•He’s noticed you’ve been growing more and more pale as the weeks go by, he isn’t even really sure how that’s possible, because you already looked very pale to begin with

•Ratchet is of course worried by this development, and he asks you about it

•You’re like “Nah, I’ve just got low iron”

•Ratchet is a bit confused at first, because to his knowledge, humans are not made of any sort of metal

•You have to explain the whole “iron deficiency” thing to him, and he at least mostly gets what you’re talking about

•He of course starts reading up on the subject, since he wants to make sure he knows if anything alarming starts to occur

•You can get quite lightheaded sometimes, which can be a bit dangerous if you’re sitting on Ratchet’s shoulder, because you might fall from getting too dizzy

•Which is why Ratchet doesn’t really like letting you sit there, because he knows his reflexes aren’t what they used to be

•You try to assure him that it’s okay and that you’ll tell him if you’re feeling too lightheaded and feel like you might fall

•He agrees to let you sit on his shoulder, but only if you let him scan your vitals and whatnot first so he can be sure you’re feeling well

~Knockout~

•Knockout pays a lot of attention to how others look, so when you start looking more pale than usual, he notices pretty quickly

•He asks why that is and you tell him about your iron deficiency problem

•Knockout is pretty ignorant to how humans work, so he doesn’t really get it and asks why you don’t just eat some iron then? “Something like nails should do, right?”

•This makes you basically roar with laughter, because all you can think about is him trying to offer you some iron nails

•When you calm down, you explain to him that no, you can’t just eat something made of iron, and that eating nails would probably kill you

•You tell him you need iron supplements and that you recently ran out and haven’t been able to buy more yet, hence the paleness

•Knockout is, yet again, a bit weirded out by how human bodies work and asks you if there’s anything he can do

•You tell him not to worry about it, but if he could let you sit on his shoulder for a while, that would be nice, because compared to a human he’s much warmer

•Your hands and feet are constantly cold, so if you kick your shoes of and sit on his shoulder with your hands and feet touching him, it feels nice since he’s so warm

•He doesn’t mind, so he lets you warm yourself up as much as you want to

•Knockout asks if this iron deficiency problem has any other effects than cold extremities and paleness 

•You give him quite a lengthy list of what it can cause and he wonders how you humans even function sometimes

•Isn’t it a pain to have to make sure you get all the vitamins and minerals and all that? He only needs energon and that’s that, so easy, but you need like a hundred different things just to survive

[someonehugratchet]

Things I would say to TFP characters that would probably confuse them:

Optimus:

• big dumb blue bitch

• how were you a librarian yet you can’t get people to be quiet

• pulling all the hoes with that autism rizz, hey big guy?

• single dad

• Have you ever been fragged from both ends at once?

• pookie smookie bear

• magnificent blue bitch

• you’re shaped like a friend

• Is your spark secretly a cat?

Ratchet:

• Nurse Ratched

• Cuckoo

• Can you step on me but like not kill me?

• actually you can kill me

• I’m going to bite you on the face

• handsome

• Transformers can get pregnant right? Would you like me to try get you-

• Big Boy

• Pretty Boy

• I want to show you Hacksaw Ridge but I think you’ll cry and I Optimus would get mad at me

• toots

• heya sugar tits

• what would you do if I swallowed a coin

• what would you do if I throw up blood a week ago and didn’t tell anyone

Arcee:

• Sis

• Shadowheart wannabe

• “Hello Darkness My Old Friend~”

• Sonic The Hedgehog

• baddy with an addy

• I wanna chew on your legs is that weird

• girly pops

• girl you should get your nails did

Bulkhead:

• You have a squishy kind of vibe about you

• bubba

• bulky boy

• you are a sweet potato and I will not elaborate

• mean green mother from out of space!

• just a little guy

• a sweet baby

• I’m adopting you as my brother sorry about it

Wheeljack:

• slut

• sorry

• pleasure bot

• ARE YOU ITALIAN OR SPANISH I DONT KNOW?

• is being in a jet like being inside another bot to you or…?

• did you bite as a sparkling?

• have you heard of One Direction?

• they totally did break up

• …

• like the wreckers-

• pookie

• Lone Ranger behaviour

Bee:

• MY SON

• a wittle baby

• with knives

• Scout’s Honour!

• your puppy dog eyes could save the war I’m so serious right now

• bumble baby

• honey bee

• honey pie

• cutie pie

• I would commit so many war crimes for you

• starch that I will like right now don’t even test me

Smoke Screen:

• swiper no swiping

• twin~ where have you been~?

• have you considered war crimes?

• sparkly boy

• stoner screen

• vape screen

• Vapor screen

• shiny baby

• I have… another child?

• problem child

[houseofanticipation]

The collar is a little too loose. It moves around too much, chafing. The restraints on your wrists are better, but the weight of your arms presses them into your skin uncomfortably. Your legs are unsecured, but your options there are limited. The last person to stop by left you at an awkward height: too high to sit, too low to stand. You're forced to hold an uncomfortable squat, or else choke yourself on the collar. Of course, it isn't supposed to be comfortable. If it was, it wouldn't be much of a punishment.

"Hey, nice!" a man in mesh gym shorts and a sweat-soaked tank top has just come around the partition that divides your repurposed shower stall from the rest of the locker room. His voice echoes as he calls out to someone. "Dude, come check it out!" He pulls a long, hard cock out of his shorts.

Your collar is locked to a ratchet mechanism, which in turn is mounted securely to the wall. Your wrists are strapped to a crossbar, keeping them at head height, wherever that is at any given time. The crossbar is a recent addition; you simply couldn't resist touching yourself when your arms were free. So last month He installed the crossbar, to help you avoid spoiling your own punishment.

The man shuffles up, feet on either side of you, finding his position. He taps his cock on your forehead, then turns the crank a few times. The ratchet begins to click, and the collar tightens around your throat as it's lifted several inches. You adjust your position, and open your mouth.

Another man rounds the corner as the first one begins to fuck your mouth. This one looks to be straight out of the shower; his hair is still wet, and the only thing he's wearing is a white towel around his waist. He raises an eyebrow when he sees you. "What am I looking at here?"

The man in the gym shorts isn't shy about using you. Some of them were, at first, but they've gotten comfortable with the situation now. They've learned to stop seeing you as a person who might care what they do to you. With each thrust his balls bounce off your chin. He presses deep down your throat, his hard abdominal muscles squashing your nose, and holds you there as he talks to his friend. "This is the...what does he call it..." his cock shifts in your throat as he cranes his neck to get a look at paper sign on the wall behind him. "Complimentary relief station." He laughs. "It's the manager's girlfriend. She's not always here, so you gotta make use of her when she is."

They guy in the towel seems unconvinced. "And she's...fine with this?"

"I wouldn't say she loves it," says Gym Shorts, starting to thrust again. "But she knows it's what she deserves."

He's right, in a way. Punishment days are grueling. You come away sore, exhausted, and filthy. You're also terrified of gagging, and it hasn't gone away with exposure like He said it would. You've just gotten better at turning off your gag reflex.

But he's also wrong. You do love it. You love it. The feeling of getting what's coming to you, of being made to suffer when you know suffering is what you've earned—it's electric, exhilarating, arousing. No doubt by this point in the day there's a small puddle underneath you, from where your wet cunt has been leaking since 9:00 AM this morning.

Gym Shorts groans and pulls out, throwing his head back as he shoots thick ropes of cum across your face. You shudder, and goosebumps rise on your arms. Your pussy drips.

"You're really gonna make a mess like that?" says Towel indignantly. "I'm not gonna use her if she's covered in your jizz, dude!"

Gym Shorts shrugs. "Sorry man, that's how he said to do it. Apparently she can't stand the feeling of cum on her skin." That is completely true. It's like nails on a chalkboard, or styrofoam scraping against itself. It sends s shiver down your spine, and it just gets worse as it sits there, getting cold, crusting over. "Spray her down if it bothers you that much. Or just use her pussy."

"What, that's an option?" says Towel.

"Sure man," says Gym Shorts, pointing to the hose showerhead on the wall. "It's still a shower."

"No, I mean her pussy. You were using her mouth when her pussy is open for business?"

Gym Shorts shrugs. "I like what I like."

"Alright, move over," says Towel, unwrapping his namesake and throwing it over his shoulder. "You've had your turn."

It takes a minute or so to get you upright; the ratchet is made for finer control, so he's cranking for a while before you're where he wants you. He reaches around and lifts your leg up, holding you under the thigh. The collar constricts around your throat as you lose balance on your one free leg; the pressure isn't enough to cut off your airways, but it's enough to make you moan involuntarily.

"Jesus Christ, dude, she's really wet," says Towel, running a finger between your pussy lips.

"Yeah, man," says Gym Shorts. "I've been telling you. She's a freak."

Towel fucks you like a hole in the wall. He fucks you like something cheap and disposable. When you moan with humiliation and pleasure, he turns to Gym Shorts and says, "Is there a way to shut her up?"

"You can just slap her a few times," says Gym Shorts. "She'll get the picture." Each strike is a stinging, burning reminder of your place.

You don't cum exactly. You never cum on punishment days; it would be inappropriate to feel that kind of pleasure. But for a few minutes before and after Towel finishes inside you, you enter a warm, floaty place where the pain and discomfort and shame all just melt away. You're exactly where you belong. You're becoming the purest form of yourself, your soul clean and clear and free of stains. This is what it's all about. This is bliss.

Towel is using your leg to wipe the last drops of cum off his cock when He enters. Your hang from the wall, your knees too weak to support you, your eyelids fluttering as you come down from that perfect place. When you see Him your chest swells, your eyes focus; cartoon hearts might as well be flying around your face.

"Hey guys, thanks for coming," He says as the two men go off to get changed. He cups your face in his hand, strokes your cheek with his thumb. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, sir." You always get bashful around him after a punishment day. It's embarrassing and exciting, letting him see you like this.

"Have you learned your lesson?" He asks.

You nod, staring into his dark eyes.

"Do you think you got what you deserved?"

You think about it. You can't be flippant with these things; it's important to give a truthful answer. "I think I deserve a few more hours, sir."

That makes Him smile. His smile could light up a room. "Good girl. You make me so proud." He leans forward and gives you a little kiss on the forehead. "I'll be back for you when I close up."

As his echoing footsteps recede, a glob of cum spills out of your cunt and joins the puddle on the floor.