#robo may

[robotgirlregularly]

The robot girl of the day is Robo-May from the Guilty Gear series!

[robogamer360]

(Planned to make Robo Potemkin for this when I first found the original before.) (Sadly, was on break by then until now.) ORIGINAL:

[greatstudentjurit]

#170 Inktober 19 to 22 19 Ridge / 20 Uncharted / 21 Rhinoceros / 22 Camp

October is over but not my Inktober, pretend it's still October

[manybackflips]

Malcom Myers?!?!!?!

…

Well he does have a full-on model already there as seen in the story mode. And this is Guilty Gear we’re talking about. They’d add Robo-May if they felt like it.

[robo-writing]

Someone asked me to elaborate on this post, so I will :3 (18+)

Logan is a man who has always been a pack animal—a sheep in need of a flock, if you will. As much as he can deny it, he thrives off of a need to belong, a need to be needed. He’ll never admit it, but the signs are there.

Being fiercely loyal, his devotion, violent towards anyone or anything that threatens his peace. With the X-Men he’s protective, but with you? It’s something else entirely.

When Logan finds a partner actually willing to stay with him—broken, animalistic thing that he believes himself to be—he holds on tight to them and refuses to let go. It’s an odd mix between a child holding onto its favorite doll and a dog sinking its teeth into its favorite chew toy—but the intent is the same regardless.

You’re his, and he’s never gonna let you go.

To say he would kill for you is truly an understatement—he would wage war for you, would watch the viscera river down his arms in streams—a privilege he offers to you and you alone, the only woman in the world he’d ever trust with his leash. It scares him, how much control you have over him, but it excites him all the same.

The best part? You truly have no idea how much power over him you have.

Even the simplest things have him bending over backwards for you, calling for him from across the house in that melodic voice he loves so much just to ask him for help.

“Could you help me with dinner?”

“Mind grabbing this for me?”

“I’m too lazy, sorry to be a bother—“

And the answer is the same each time—“You’re no bother princess, just say the word.”

He wants to scold you sometimes at the mere suggestion that his answer would ever be no. When it comes to you, he doesn’t think the word is in his dictionary. You have him deeply, truly, well trained, so much so that he’d gladly kneel at your feet if it meant you’d look down at him, because at the end of the day you’d still be looking at him.

Embarrassing really, that the big bad wolverine is secretly a lovedrunk puppy, one that’d dig his thumbs into the arches of your feet, smiling to himself when you let out that deliciously drawn out moan when he hits the right spot, right there, thank you.

However, that same puppy turns into a feral hound whenever he perceives a threat. Whether it be friend or foe, he’s one step behind you the moment you show any kind of discomfort. Even the slightest hint of hostility and Logan’s right there, chest puffed and glaring daggers at whoever was stupid enough to try, and that’s on the best of days.

On the worst of days…it’s a different story entirely. You’ve become far too familiar with the dulled sound of skin meeting metal, that familiar snikt before you’re forced to stand between Logan and his next victim. The two of you have gotten kicked out of your fair share of establishments, but Logan apologizes in a way only he can—with his mouth against your cunt.

Every lick, every suck, every touch, an apology. Muttering into your pussy, worshipping it, his tongue against your clit his own personal prayer, the sound of your moans his reward for being so devout.

“Sorry for getting us in trouble doll—“

His palms smooth over your trembling flesh, rough and calloused, just the right amount of pressure to keep you grounded.

“Sorry for getting you banned from your favorite shop—“

His fingers leave divots in your thighs, pulling himself further against your mound. His nose bumps against your clit with each pass, and the feeling leaves you gasping for air.

“Sorry for being so protective—“

Again and again, his mouth brings you to heights you never thought possible.

“Sorry for being so rough, just can’t help myself.”

In more ways than one, he really can’t, can’t take the man out of the beast if he’s more beast than man. Can’t teach a feral dog to socialize, but you can teach it who his master is.

And boy, do you fucking teach him.

You give him the best lesson of your life whenever you praise him, spread your legs and pull his head deeper into your needy cunt, dig your nails into his scalp just the way he likes it and moan for him while your thighs shake and your pussy squirts against his taste buds.

“Good boy, Lo’—good fucking boy—“

If he had a tail, it’d be fucking wagging.

[purenonsens]

atom heart

[baddecisionsgoooo0]

Transformers X Haso

I need more transformers x Humans are space orcs.

I need these smol, delicate humans the autobots have to protect to pull out Molotov cocktails and destroy decipticon joints.

I need a teacher to mix up a swimming pool size batch of oobleck and trap a cybertronian in it to protect his students.

I need humans using acid, or throwing rocks in joints, or otherwise inconveniencing decepticons while the autobots get more and more concerned.

I need Optimus or Ratchet to morosely bring up something that happened in the war, and a human to be like, "Oh that. Yeah, we made that illegal, it wasn't considered sporting." or "Wait, you guys have been fighting for how long, and that's the most extreme thing you did?"

I need a bot or a con to get curious and open a history book, and the next morning be traumatized by the shit humanity has done.

I need Humans that get tired of the whole, "Humanity is smol and fragile" shtick, and decide to go kill decipticons so they stop attacking the autobots.

I need Optimus to slowly realize we are not cute, fluffy little creatures, but agents of chaos and destruction. Beings who will destroy anyone and anything that threatens our family, and we consider the bots family.

[chibigaia-art]

gg icons I made for my friends and myself of our mains

[sonicboomrevisited]

Back before SBR had its own blog, an anon asked:

"poor metal Sonic being left Out While Sonic Gets to be roboticized"

The original art was rushed. So I redrew and colored it to feature here!

This is for all those wondering where Metal Sonic is. He won't be appearing in the Robo-ification Arc, but who knows what will happen later!

[fiyrball6063]

My Guilty Gear keychains are now up for preorder !!! EDIT: these are back open! They close on December 31st !!!

This time preorders are on Big cartel,

SHOP LINK

Close ups below!

[pandorastower]

Art by 辰巳仁

[justladders]

Oh yeah, I started a pokemon mystery dungeon randomizer the other week and. Basically just needed a way to draw the main two so I could ship them.

made this initial concept of these that week to get the idea down but just figured I could share

[robogamer360]

[greatstudentjurit]

#155 Inktober 16 - Grungy

[manybackflips]

I want her to be playable dlc purely to mess with people.

[robo-writing]

Toxic ex-boyfriend Simon 🫠🫠

It’s the same routine ever since you broke up with Simon. Call after call, decline after decline, you’ve changed your number twice now and he’s still managed to find you.

He doesn’t take no for an answer, though I suppose you knew this already—The break-up was a pretty big indicator of that, or in his words, your “break.”

“You’re just a bit overwhelmed,” he said to you, not budging a little even with your full weight on him, trying and failing to push him out of your apartment. It’s as if you weren’t even there. “Never had a man treat you like you need to be treated, scared of new sensations?”

That certainly wasn’t the problem, but it was in one ear and out the other with Simon. Honestly, you’re not even sure if it even managed to go in one ear.

“Please, don’t make this difficult,” you begged, giving up on your attempt to push him out. “Just…leave. I don’t want to call the cops.”

At the mention of police he laughs, almost mockingly. It almost scares you.

“Alright then, I’ll entertain your little tantrum for now,” he says, stepping out into the hallway. “But when you’ve finally come to your senses, know that I’ll be waiting for you.”

A pause, and then: “Of course I’ll have to teach you a lesson about being a brat when you do, but you always love my lessons don’t you pet?”

Weeks later his words still ring in your ears.

Weeks later your phone still rings in your hands.

You don’t need to check the caller ID—it’s always an unknown number, but you always know who it is. You let it go to voicemail like usual, but today is a first—a small notification being visible from the corner of your eye.

One voicemail left by: Unknown Caller

Your curiosity peaks, with stubbornness quelling it soon after. It’s a voicemail from your ex, what could he possibly say to you that you haven’t heard a million times before.

Still, it eats away at you. It wasn’t like him to leave a message when he could just call. Hell, knowing him he’s more likely to show up at your door.

It lingers in your mind. You think about it for the rest of the day and it’s now you truly understand the plight of the cat when curiosity seems so enticing.

You relent when you lie awake restless, a losing battle as you find your inbox and hit play.

Your ears are greeted with ambient silence, unsure if maybe Simon left his voicemail open on accident. The moment the thought crosses your mind you hear it, the distinct rumble you know as wholly and purely Simon. There’s a shuffle, then his voice cuts through the empty air.

“Hey there pet. Missed ya.”

You find your eyes rolling as he continues.

“I know, I know, you want to keep me away,” he says breathlessly. “But I’m not sure how long I can keep playing this game.”

There’s a rustling, a deep inhale followed by the sound of something squirting.

“Had to take a minute, forgot I had these,” he says, then takes a moment to laugh. “I’m talking like you can see me, so lemme paint you a nice, clear picture.”

A rather familiar sound of skin against skin has your face growing hotter. You’re in disbelief, willing to deny what you think you’re hearing until Simon confirms it for you.

“Hear that, pet?” He growls. “That’s all me. Could be yours too, if you’d stop being such a fuckin’ brat.”

The sound of his hand is slow, methodical in his purpose. “Nice and wrapped up in those panties I love so much. Pink and satin, the ones you got for valentines—you know the ones.”

A sigh, as if he’s reminiscing. “God, you were a real animal that day. Purred so nicely when I stuffed that cunt of yours.”

Whatever anger you have towards him for stealing your underwear is soon replaced with lust, the sound of the fabric in sync with his hand enough to have you squirming in your bed. His voice like gravel echoes through the speaker, even worse is the slick sounds of what you’re certain is your panties stroking his cock, stained with pre-cum.

More noises, his breathing getting faster and faster. “So fuckin’ soft. Feels good wrapped around me, reminds me of when you’d get so needy you’d need to grind yourself on my thigh.”

Long stretches of time where all you can hear are his breathless moans and his hand moving faster. On instinct your thighs close around nothing as you listen to your ex-boyfriend jerk off in your ears.

“Should see me right now, nice and hard just for you,” he gasps.

Your pussy throbs as if on instinct.

One of your favorite traits about Simon was his undeniably large cock, how it would blush the prettiest shade of rouge at the sight of you, how you struggled to take it every time and how you could feel it in your chest when he fucked you. It’s all you can think about now, any reason you had for breaking up seemingly lost to you.

Another laugh drags you from your thoughts. “You were thinking about me just then, weren’t you?”

Embarrassment burns through your body. You have half a mind to turn off your phone, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. You can practically hear the smugness in his tone.

“Don’t worry, I’m thinking of you too.”

You hate the fact that he’s right. You hate the fact that he knows you so well. You hate the fact that you’re still listening.

You especially hate the fact you want him to do something about the increasing wetness in your panties.

“Just the thought of you, your body—that tight cunt of yours…” He cuts himself off with a moan, the distinct sound of slickness echoing in the speakers.

“God, just thinking about how hungry you must be for my cock…the things I’ll do when I get my hands on you.”

The laugh that emits from him is unhinged, animalistic. It excites you, as guilty as you feel for admitting it.

The sound of his hand speeds up as he talks. “You been taking good care of her in my stead? Touching yourself, getting her nice and prepared for when I come back? I’d hate to re-train her back into my shape.”

He’s so damn vulgar and you love it.

“Just remember, when you’re awake at night, and your thighs are pressing together so pretty, begging for something between them..”

His voice is clear as day, dark and unchained. It sends a full-bodied jolt through your own body, just barely resisting the urge to call.

“…That my cock will always be better than your hand.”