#roddy writes

[mimikartistry]

WIP Titles Meme

RULES: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

tagged by: @black--blizzard

Buckle the fuck up bc I've got WIPs comin out of every orifice and most of these (if not all) will never be finished and posted lol

Diary of a One-Time Prime (Rodimus-centric)

Too Little, Too Late (Megarod)

Sick of Losing Soulmates (Snippets of Chromedome's past w/ his ex-husbands)

Kaleidoscope (Megarod)

Senator Shockwave's School For Gifted Mecha (Inspired by Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children)

For Now, And For Always (SoundRod)

Afterword (TideAid)

All's Fair In Love and Time Travel (Simpatico)

Throwing Stones (Megarod)

Take It Out On Me (Skids/Quark)

Wildfire (Thunderrod)

Unique In All The Universe (Wrift)

Merformers Driftrod

Hanahaki Wrift

Bad At Love (Drift-centric)

There are also more that I've posted like, one or a few chapters of but have been abandoned lol. And also a bunch of things I have ideas for, but not fleshed out at all lol

get tagged: @heliopauseentertainments @dangerouslyclassyhottub @altraviolet :)

[keferon]

I stand by the belief that Drift/Deadlock and Hot Rod would be friends in any universe. Much to the terror of everyone else.

———————————————————————

Deadlock was loosing his mind.

Deadlocks face plates were starting to hurt from the strain of manually stopping himself from reflexively smiling. And why did he have an overwhelming compulsion to smile?

Because: This. Tiny. Minuscule. Absolute Fragging SPECK of a human was somehow radiating more emotion out of his EM field than any other mech that Deadlock has ever met in his life.

And what was that emotion?

"THIS IS THE COOLEST SHIT IVE EVER SEEN IN MY FUCKING LIFE!"

Joy. Pure. Unfiltered. Unrestrained. And completely unreasonable levels of joy.

"RATCHET. RATCHET. HE'S SO COOL."

The mini nuclear reactor was currently shaking the medic by the shoulders, practically vibrating with unspent energy. Seconds ago, Hot Rod had seemingly slagging materialized next to him in an explosion of emotion that damn near knocked Deadlock on his aft. He was currently tempted to swat the little fragger halfway across the hangar to escape the onslaught of unexpected emotions except-

Ratchet had personally brought him in. Even now, the medics field remained calm and collected in the face of what to Deadlock felt like a fragging Sun. He kinda envied humans field numbness right now because it was definitely starting to screw with his processor.

Case in point, Deadlock had to take a click to refocus on what the squishes were talking about.

"No fucking way. Really?!"

“Yes, he really did take down those three quints near the wind farm by himself. Ate one of 'em too.”

"YOU EAT THEM?!?"

Deadlock was expecting disgust, but instead all he could feel was overwhelming awe. His resolve to remain aloof and detached was quickly beginning to crumble before the blast furnace of Hot Rods personality.

A manual override finally failed and Deadlock broke into a wide grin. At least he kept his fangs on prominent display. Equal parts smile and threat.

"Drink, actually."

Deadlock made a conscious effort to take on a more relaxed posture, one that would convey predatory pride and confidence.

"Dude. Dude. Dude."

Hot Rod held his hands to his face, leg rapidly bouncing up and down.

"YOU'RE A FREAKING ROBOT VAMPIRE FROM OUTER SPACE?!"

Before Deadlock could ask what a vampire was, Hot Rod had begun jogging away while screaming incoherently.

"What. What is happening?" Deadlock leaned towards his human, listening to Hot Rod get fainter as he rounded the corner of the hangar.

"About what I expected.” Ratchet grumbled, setting his hands on his hips.

“Roddy is intense as they come but he’s a damn good pilot and an even better friend."

Ratchet pointed a finger at Deadlock.

"Don't tell him I said that."

Hot Rod had become almost inaudible by now but was slowly gaining volume again.

"Right now kid, it's just been you and I. And trust me I enjoy the arrangement. But we can't fight every battle by ourselves. Sometimes you just need help. Sometimes,"

The screaming was quickly gaining decibels.

“You just need a friend.”

A friend.

Huh.

The scarred, defensive, self preserving part of Deadlock protested the thought of being pried open any further. Ratchet had started the process. But, c'mon. It's Ratchet. He scolded his inner self. Ratchet always left things stronger then before. So, maybe. Just a little bit. Deadlock could at least see what was so great about this squishy human.

The screaming returned to its initial volume as Hot Rod rounded the corner and mech. They were pretty sure humans normally breathed more often than that?

Hot Rod came to a stop before the two of them.

Finally gasping in fresh air. His field was absolutely roiling, pretty much all positive emotions but the screaming lap around the building had clearly vented a lot of energy.

"Can you turn into a bat?!"

Deadlock reset his optics, an idea spreading across his processor as he finally let his Em field reciprocate with giddiness and mischief.

Who cares if it's sparkling behavior? It’s fun. He told the Deadlock part of himself.

"Nope. But do you want to know what I can turn into?"

Hot Rod nodded so fast Ratchet looked concerned.

Che-che-chu-klunk.

Hot Rod started screaming again.

This time when when his EM field hit Deadlock he took it all in and reflected it right back. He revved his engine so loudly it shook the windows. Hot Rod was running and jumping in a tight circle around the two of them, radiating Joy Joy Joy Joy. Deadlock swore his field was even effecting Ratchet at this point from the way happy seemed to bounce between the three of them in various shades.

"Can we go for a ride?!"

Hot Rod had stopped by Deadlocks passenger side door. Rapidly looking between Ratchet and Deadlock, clearly uncertain who's permission to ask for.

"Well Doc, do you trust us not to get into trouble?" He wriggled his tires.

"You two? Staying out of trouble? Hell no."

Ratchet rubbed his chin the way he always did when he was trying to stop himself from smiling.

"But as long as you both come back in one piece and before dark... Well I don't see the harm."

Hot Rod gave his loudest "WOOP!" Yet. A feat in it of itself. A scrambled into Deadlocks cabin, forgoing the door entirely to throw himself bodily through the window.

They tore away from Ratchets hangar with a chorus of thanks and a spray of gravel.

———————

It was well after dark by the time the duo rolled into Ratchets hangar. Hot Rod stumbled out into a semi controlled summersault that left him spread eagle on the floor, laughing and panting. While Deadlock smoothly transformed and promptly rolled flat on his back in a similar state of delirium.

They had so much fun. He had so much fun.

When was the last time he'd ever felt like that?

When had he ever felt like that?

Ratchet was upside down frowning at him. No, wait. Smiling.

Happy. Fondness. Proud.

Love.

Deadlock cleared his vents and put a hand over his spark before his chest plates could do something very stupid.

Ratchet turned to the hot mess on the floor.

"I got the couch set up for you. Figured you're gonna stay the night."

Hot Rod stuck his arms straight up, palms open.

"Woo, sleepover!"

His field had finally simmered down to something like coals. A bone deep exhaustion that made Deadlock feel heavy by proxy.

They both gracelessly shuffled onto their respective resting arrangements, Ratchet taking the recliner after dimming all the lights.

Soon enough, all three were in recharge or asleep.

———————

Deadlock started out of recharge with tightly trained silence.

Something was wrong.

Threatened. Stressed. Afraid.

Deadlock seemed dead to the world still. But internally, his systems quickly synced to kill. A skill he had honed over many millennia of unsafe homes and attempted assassinations.

What surprised him was how he already mentally mapped out how to maneuver the humans into the safest location in a fight. Deadlock finally onlined his optics, casting the hangar in an amber glow. His processor clicked and Deadlock realized what was triggering his fight response.

Threatened. Stressed. Afraid.

Hot Rod.

Limbs twisted in fabric, face buried in the crook of the couch. Posture contorted. Breathing uneven. Field pulled in so tight it felt suffocating.

Deadlock loosely knew what a nightmare was.

Ratchet got them sometimes, though he wouldn't admit it until Deadlock made it clear the lack of context was freaking him out a little.

The way Ratchet explained it was that it was essentially a way for the brain to process excess information. Basically the same as defrag but with some weird human side effects because of course there were weird human side effects.

Like whatever was currently happening to Hot Rod.

From previous experience, nudging Ratchet awake usually resulted in a snort or other cut of vocalization. But if there was anything Deadlock had learned it was that Hot Rod did not do anything quietly.

Ratchet was still sleeping on his recliner, but there was a subtle shifting and a pinch to his face. Not a nightmare, Deadlock had learned the pattern, but something was bothering the medic and it threatened to wake him from his much needed rest.

Help.

The wave of desperate emotion spilled out like an overfilled cup.

Right, Hod Rods EM field was freakishly strong. It was restrained for now but Deadlock dreaded what it’d feel like if the dam broke.

He watched Ratchet stir again and. . . Wait.

Could humans pick up on EM fields?

Can’t a deaf mech still feel the vibrations of a song? Couldn’t a blind one still feel the warmth of the sun?

What if?

Deadlock moved as silently as death. Cupping a servo over the pilot. He stopped restricting his field and focused.

Calm.

Hot Rod made another almost vocalization. Like he was trying to yell without enough air.

Calm. Deadlock tried again. Comforting anyone was so, so far from his normal area of expertise. Did he even know what calm was supposed to feel like? What safe was supposed to be? He wracked his memories as Deadlock and abandoned that immediately.

Calm. Safe. Ratchet.

Okay. Deadlock didn’t know how to comfort someone, but Ratchet did. He focused his field again, this time on trying to mimic what he always felt from Ratchet as closely as possible.

Care. Fondness.

Deadlock vented slowly. It felt hollow coming from him. The new field was there but it was weak. Unsupported. Deadlock worried his lip with a fang. Hot Rod simmered.

He vented slowly. Deadlock opened the box at the back of his mind named Drift. He knew what he needed. Everything else could stay but he needed this one feeling. Just one.

The stars were out over Dead End. A brown out had swept the area, leaving everything in the dark. Drift didn’t know the sky could look like that.

The others were gathered around in silent awe. Nobody dared to break the spell. Tomorrow, everything would suck again. Scraping money for the next meal, the next hit, the next chance to live just a little longer.

But for a few fleeting moments, Drift was okay. They were all okay. Because the circles of light around Cybertron said so.

Peace.

Drift let the feeling fill his field. Calm and fondness meant something again.

He thought of his time with Ratchet and Hot Rod. Finding something new in himself.

Protect.

It was like smoke clearing all at once. Hot Rod exhaled deeply in his sleep, field going soft and gentle.

He kept it up, at some point his engine had started purring without him knowing. A pleasant white noise within the hangar. They were okay. Everyone he cared about was okay. He felt peace. Just for now. Just for them.

“Didn’t know you could do that.”

Ratchets voice was thick with sleep. One eye barely cracked to look at him.

“Me too.”

—————————

Part 1

This is long and it’s getting late. Deadlock has an emotional breakthrough and Hot Rod dreams about I dunno, pancakes or something.

-SSTP

Infinitely entertained by the mental image of Ratchet trying to pick someone who he can trust but who will also get along with Kid. And then looking at Hot Rod and being like Yep. That one.

ALSO. Hot Rod having an EM field equivalent of a nuclear fucking reactor is just so👌👌👌 YES HE WOULD. ABSOLUTELY YES HAHAHKFNGM

I never get tired of reading about Roddy and Lock losing their last brain cells when they are together. Anon. Anon look at me. I LOVE YOU ANON. I WILL CHERISH THIS PIECE FOREVER IT BROUGHT ME THE UNMEASURABLE AMOUNT OF JOY THANK YOU FOR SHARING IT

[theoldspark]

My IDW au in a nutshell

IDW au where Optimus ends up in the Lost Light and gets his own life changing adventure.

IDW au post-canon where Optimus learns to see himself as more than a sacrifice for the freedom and peace of others.

IDW au where Optimus and Rodimus actually get to become close friends and bond over their similarities.

IDW au where people appreciate Optimus and aren't afraid to show they care about him as their friend.

IDW au where Optimus gets to retire and gets his happy ending without needing to die.

Additional to previous point, IDW au where Optimus suicidal tendencies get properly addressed and he starts to heal and learns to prioritize his needs.

IDW au where Megop gets an eventual happy ending (after a tedious slow-burn because four million years of pinning wasn't enough for them).

IDW au where the LL still gets to have silly adventures and nobody dies (except for the people who are already dead).

IDW au where characters get to reflect, learn and grow together because Op is not the only one fucked up in the group.

IDW au where I push every character to have deep conversations despite their stubbornness to avoid too serious emotions.

In short:

Just an AU where Optimus gets to be genuinely happy for once because I really need it and I can't take the tragedy that is canon anymore.

[playedcrowd5610]

You know what? Fuck it! Roddie x C-27 is Canon now! 💜

*Throws a 10k one-shot at you* Hope you enjoy these purple lovers as much as I do!

[rynnthefangirl]

The show is honestly setting up Criston’s death scene SO WELL.

His whole character arc is centered around him running away from his shame and dishonor, in ways that destroy and hurt others.

He soiled his white cloak by sleeping with Rhaenyra? Well clearly she is a seductive spider and the bitch must pay.

He bullies and hurts children of the royal family? Well they are bastards born to a spoiled c*nt, clearly they deserve it.

He let Prince Jaehaerys be murdered because he was too busy sleeping with Alicent? Blame Erykk, project his anger onto him, send him on a suicide mission in a desperate attempt to DO something and feel better about his enormous failure.

Criston is constantly breaking oaths, constantly acting with dishonor, constantly putting himself and his emotions first, even at the expense of those he is supposed to defend. His is a completely disgrace to knighthood, and he knows this. He knows it, but he hides from it, lashes out at others, projects, hurts, hates, destroys.

He is going to struggle with his shame the whole series, and eventually will find himself in a situation where he cannot win. The winter wolves force will outmatch his own, it is a battle that they are doomed to lose, and his men are going to be massacred. And Criston, at long last, will step up. He will offer to fight and die on behalf of his men, to take on four enemies by himself in an epic duel worthy of a knight of the Kingsguard. This is his redemption, he may have lived a life without honor, but he can still die with it. He will make his grand declaration, challenging Roddy the Ruin, Criston stands tall as he feels a fierce sense of pride and determination—

Only to be struck down by an arrow, and die without another word. Because that’s not how honor works. You cannot spend your entire life being a selfish monster, and then wipe the slate clean with one grand gesture. Criston will die as he lived- a pathetic failure. There will be no songs sung about him.

[whumpdoyoumean]

17 for slow horses? :)

xxx "You don't look so good."

"D'you think maybe I should drive for a bit?"

River stares out the front windscreen and clenches his jaw, though he quickly unclenches it when the action sends fresh pain through the left side of his face, up to his temple and all the way through his bottom teeth. "Absolutely fucking not."

From the corner of his eye, he sees Roddy slump down in the passenger seat. He's pouting. He's the one that got them into the mess in the first place, and he's actually pouting.

"Those guys beat the shit out of you," Roddy remarks, rather unhelpfully.

River's jaw twitches and he actively has to keep from grinding his teeth together in frustration, knowing that doing so will hurt. Plus one of his back molars feels loose and he really doesn't want to lose a tooth over this. His mind flashes back to the beating he'd taken, fists and boots connecting with face, chest, back. His ribs give a painful twinge at the memory.

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?"

"I'm just saying," Roddy persists, "you don't look so good."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Roddy! You're not driving my car! Now will you please, please, just shut the fuck up!" He glances over at Roddy, who looks utterly taken aback, and heaves a sigh. "Sorry I yelled! Just – this is a very stressful situation, yeah? I need to focus."

Roddy stays quiet for approximately twelve seconds. "You could be concussed. Driving with a concussion is just as bad as drink driving, you know."

"Jesus..." River murmurs. He's starting to wish he'd let those guys have Roddy. He probably would've annoyed them to death within the hour.

"You might lose consciousness," Roddy continues.

"Well if I lose consciousness, then you can drive."

Unbelievably, Roddy actually perks up at that, a smile spreading across his face. "Sweet."

River stares out the window. Maybe he'll get lucky and a meteor will come land on the car and put them both out of his misery. Otherwise, it's going to be a long fucking drive.

xxx

[vytels]

Hi everyone, I wrote something for the Mech AU based off of this post. (Pssst @keferon some angst for your au?? Which I just have to say I’m devouring every morsel of at a concerning rate)

please forgive any spelling mistakes, I wrote this in a rush

<——>

Drift Medical Implant or DMI

The DMI is a medical device that sits between the brain and skull. The size of the DMI is roughly a cubic centimeter and placed against the inside of the occipital bone, adjacent to the Drift-Neural Link Site (otherwise known as DNeLS) when a helmet is worn. This allows the DMI to connect directly to the DNeLS through the skull of the pilot.

The three major functions of the DMI are as followed:

1. Increased Drift Compatibility between pilots with the and their mecha

2. Injection site for Drift Medical Networks (otherwise known as DMeN)

3. Physical protect from surges through the DNeLS

All pilots have been required to have a DMI since the creation of Mecha 7. Various versions have been created over the years, each more advanced than the last. The DMI varies depending on the nation of origin and biomedical makeup of the pilot, but all have the same three functions and must be approved by a Chief Medical Officer before being implemented…(read on).

<——>

Everything is fine, but it wasn’t.

As Roddy gazes down upon his hands, he imagines— no remembers— them flexing out of his control and reaching forward across the controls of his mech. How cool organized breath flooded his mind, sparking at the back of his head, at the back of his helmet, before whipping across his consciousness and strangling the edges. Electronic, cold, lifeless, and so unlike anything he’d ever felt before, as it ripped him away from his body and shunned him into a corner.

He’d been a passenger in his own body, thrown onto some kind of fucked up roller coaster with no end in sight. Arms moved without his commands, but he could feel the phantom touch, the sharp brush of controls through his gloves, he could feel his heart beating. He couldn’t look away as his body moved, as it commanded his mech, as destruction sprang in its wake.

Every second was displayed to him, like a sick and twisted dream.

Even when the cockpit of his mech opened, when his body stood from its seat and stepped out into the inferno it created. A harsh determination filling his tongue, fury like no other, but Roddy knew it wasn’t his own.

“You understand, Ratchet,” He’d said, his voice sounding nothing like his own, “I’m doing this for him.”

And he’d seen the horror in the medic’s eyes as the words bounced across the room, as they seared into the scene. That very moment haunts him, digs its teeth into his mind as fear sits upon his tongue to spill guilt down his throat. He sees Deadlock’s blood, his energon, spread across the floor as the mech balances on his knees. Servos pressed against a wound in his side, a scorching smear disgracing his helm.

And Ratchet standing between them, between Deadlock and Roddy, between victim and attacker.

Yet… he flexes his hand, curling them around his knees, and they listen. His fingers dig into denim jeans, nails scratching as specks of dirt, and his lungs suck in air. Then he kicks his feet, curling his toes as his teeth bite into his lips. Roddy’s mind jumps hoops, tumbling down a list of commands.

His body listens.

But his anxiety whispers, it didn’t then.

Roddy isn’t stupid, he knows what happened and he knows the facts. Someone had drifted with him and shut his mind away in a small little box, so that they could use his body like a puppet. He had felt their thoughts at the edge of his mind, his body bludgeoned with their rage and pain. And they had wanted Deadlock, they needed him, and…

Someone had drifted with him.

Roddy’s hand shoots up to his head, fingers gliding over his skin before combing through his hair. It searches and searches before it dashes over a bump and doubles back. His nails catch over raised skin, over scar tissues, before they begin to pick and pick and pick. Thoughts reel through his head, contracts and procedures bouncing behind his eyes.

The DMI.

A little box in his head.

A little box he’d been shoved into.

A little box that had let another person drift with him, through his body.

Not just his mech.

Their mind stains his thoughts, running through his nerves and searing through his fingers. Hands reach into his own, become his own, and push him forward. They grasp onto his reality as he falls back and back into the void of space, into the passenger seat, into the box and—

He has to get it out. Now.

Fingers dig and dig, nails scraping and pulling as warm blood seeps against his fingers and trickles down his skull. That warmth dribbles down his neck as he curls fingers, pushing his nails further, tearing at the scar raised on the back of his scalp. His hands and fingers run rampant over his skull as his mind spirals, questions flinging their way through his thoughts as panic clutches at his throat.

Who would do this? Why would they do this? What do they want? What if they make me kill someone? What if they make me—

“Damn it, kid!” A deep voice cuts through his ears as hands grasp onto his wrists, yanking his hands away from his head. His eyes jump open and he realizes he doesn’t remember when he closed them, but they jump to Ratchet’s form immediately and soak in the concern and anger like a sponge.

Ratchet clutches his wrists, eyes narrowed and mouth thrown into a frustrated grimace that Roddy has seen a hundred times. It’s backdropped by bright yellow optics, staring through the darkness of night, with the same amount of concern crushing them. It is not his two friends that catch Roddy’s mind, but the blood dripping from his own hands, his fingers, and spreading over the medic’s pale skin. It rockets him back into his own body, even if he can’t feel the pain.

“I need it out, Ratchet,” Roddy finally gasps, air gulping into his lungs, “They put it in me, they knew, they— I need it out!”

“I know what happened, but you don’t know if the DMI let it happen,” Ratchet grumbles, eyes drifting from the mech pilot’s face to blood soaking into his hair.

Roddy protests immediately, “It did! I know it did!”

Ratchet’s brows narrow, lips falling into a purse and Roddy almost expects the grump to agree until he says, “Let’s get you fixed up.”

His tone squashes any arguments before they could tumble from Roddy’s lips. With the grace of experience and the rush of frustration, the old CMO herds the younger man across his home. Roddy doesn’t even get the chance to ask where the medical kit is again before it’s already in Ratchet’s hands and a stool has been placed before him, Deadlock’s small services.

Roddy doesn’t even get the chance to run or complain.

The giant alien robot leans forward, kneeling with his head ducked toward them and one servo hovering to their side. Concern radiates from him, as clear as day across his face: optics intent on the scene before him, lips creating a concentrated line, optic ridges furrowed. It’s like he wants to pick them both up, hold them close, but knows that he can’t.

Fuck, Roddy thinks, I didn’t mean to make Deadlock nervous.

Then hands rest over the sides of temples and tilt his head, forcing him to look downward as Ratchet peers at the back of his head. It’s gentle, warm.

More gentle than the perpetrator had been when they entered his mind.

“You do realize you wouldn’t have been able to claw through your skull?” Ratchet grumbles and moves, grabbing something from the medkit before turning back. “This was incredibly stupid.”

“I know, I just…” Roddy swears his tongue feels numb. “Need it out.”

Ratchet's voice falls icy. “And killing yourself would have been worth it?”

“If it meant they couldn’t use me to kill you or someone else…” Roddy’s words trail off as a sucked in breath fills the air, loud and revving. Deadlock’s reaction.

“No,” Ratchet sighs, voice softer, “Don’t be so idiotic, you’re not.”

Somehow Ratchet’s disappointment stings more than his anger, but Roddy understands. This isn’t just about what happened, not for the medic, it’s about everything that has ever happened between them. And he knows Ratchet’s views on self-sacrifice already, so it shouldn’t be a surprise.

He feels Ratchet’s fingers against his scalp, the way that they freeze for just a moment and a mental countdown begins in the back of Roddy’s head. Five, six, seven…

“What is the DMI?” Deadlock’s voice finally enters the conversation and relief glides through Roddy as his best friend saves him from Ratchet’s incoming lecture.

Instead the medic sighs, fingers beginning to move again, and he says, “It’s a medical device that pilots have. It’s a brain implant that helps them connect with their mechs and protect them from any surges.”

Deadlock hums, and Roddy knows that hum— the overgrown metal cat is pretending that he understands, before he asks, “Then why do you want it out, Roddy?”

“Because someone had to drift with me to control my body,” Roddy replies as another wave of relief lands on his shoulders. He tries to find Deadlock out of the corner of his eye, careful to not move his head lest Ratchet yell at him again. “It felt like I got shoved into a box and whoever was controlling me could do it easily. The DMI helps me drift, it connects technology to my body. If anything could help the neural link conjoin more than just minds, but also bodies, it has to be the DMI.”

“And how are you supposed to get it out?” Deadlock asks, and Roddy thinks Traitor! because he’s bringing Ratchet back into the conversation in the perfect way for the man to lecture him.

“Medical professionals are supposed to do it,” Ratchet’s voice is heavy, aimed right at Roddy’s being, “It requires a surgery, an incredibly risky medical procedure, that only the utmost qualified can perform. Not trying to rip your own skull open with your bare hands.”

Roddy tries not to grimace.

He definitely deserved that remark.

And he is ready for more when Ratchet sighs, only for the medic to ask, “Deadlock, can you…?”

“Of course,” Deadlock practically purrs back to Ratchet before gears turn and metal sings: the telltale sign of a transformation. The Cybertronian sits in his alt-mode now, engine revving before the passenger’s side and driver’s side doors swing open.

For a moment Roddy wonders if he’s third-wheeling for some weird date-thing between Deadlock and Ratchet, but the idea races from his head as Ratchet finally lets go of his head and steps away.

There’s still blood on his hands, Roddy’s blood, and he can only imagine how much blood has dried to his neck and hair. Head wounds bleed so much.

“Go get cleaned up,” Ratchet orders him, “We’re going for a drive.”

That’s enough to get Roddy off the stool, back to his feet, and scrambling across the room. He barely registers Ratchet’s call of, “Don’t pull my damn stitches!” As he careens into the bathroom to wash the blood away. The thought of getting to ride along with Deadlock is too great of a deal to pass up.

And that is exactly where he finds himself a few minutes later, saddled into the passenger seat with his head tilted toward the open window. Happiness jolts from his chest, content and joyous, as they glide through the night. The world passes by in a faint blurr of shadows and light, wind rushing over his face and pushing back his hair. All while Ratchet drives, taking over for the alien car as Deadlock skips through radio channels every few minutes with small huffs of static.

It’s warm and bright, it sinks into the young pilot’s skin and straight into his memories. It reminds him that he isn’t alone, he’ll never be alone, and he can face anything to come. As long as he has his friends by his side.

<——>

Drift Medical Networks is just all the injections and toxins that are given to pilots to make them drift compatible/etc.

Also as I was writing this and remember how much head wounds bleed, I thought Deadlock must have thought that Roddy was going to die with how much blood there was and I just— AHHHHH

[bobfloydpilled]

BEHOLD!!!! a new fic, slow horses edition! featuring river whump, river comfort, and lamb-typical snark! enjoy :D

[abubblingcandle]

For the words prompt:

Whelp

Strain

Rogue

Sin

Eee thank you anon! I love these so much and they are so motivating to get more writing done

Whelp - Not Getting Off So Easy

“Lamb’s here to get his whelp,” Hobbs huffed, closing the door behind him. “Hear that Cartwright. Your little minder has come to pick you up. His fucking runt of the litter needing saving again,” Duffy growled, his fingers tightening in River’s hair. River tried to hide the little flush and acceleration of his heartbeat at the sound of Lamb’s name. Duffy was right. It was pathetic that he needed Lamb to come and pick him up like he sat outside the headteacher’s office for being a little idiot at school, River was well familiar with that particular feeling. But Lamb had come. Lamb had come for River. “You’re mixing metaphors,” River coughed, blood spattering the floor as it dribbled from between his lips. The dark crimson marring Duffy’s scuffed and muddy shoes that he had somehow avoided getting River’s blood on at any other point in this beating. “Thought I was a lame horse not a dog. A better metaphor would be me calling you a bitch,” River wheezed.

For that sprint I got 212 words!

Strain and Sin - Captive Audience Ch9

“He didn’t suffer.” Frank was the first one to break the tense battle of wills but he somehow felt like he had won. Louisa’s breath abandoned her and her heart fluttered. “I just thought you’d want to know. He seemed to really care about you through it all,” Frank continued, his eyes boring holes into her as she strained against the deep deep urge to strike a retaliatory blow. There was nothing that she could say to harm Frank and beating a bound man black and blue would only serve to have her removed from the room and no more face to face time with her best friend’s father and killer. Louisa knew that Frank Harkness’ ledger was painted red with nearly every sin in the book and she should be focusing on the one that mattered right now. But she couldn’t. While he sat there softly smiling like he was trying to me empathetic or compassionate about her pain; he was the cause of her pain.

For those two sprints I got 504 words!

Rogue - mangroves Ch2

Sneaking into Slough House was impossible with every year that the rust on the door grew. River had theorised one afternoon that the door was Lamb’s final security measure on the building. If all else failed then no one else would be able to get the exact right amount of lift and push to wrench it open. “Good you’re back. Cartwright’s gone fucking rogue.” The whole of the team was crammed into Roddy’s office looking at her expectantly as Lamb spoke. “He’s a fucking terrorist,” Roddy laughed. “Ow,” he winced as Shirley smacked him around the back of the head. “What?” Louisa frowned. River had warned her that the service thought he did something that he hadn’t but terrorism? That was a much bigger misunderstanding than she had mentally prepared for. “Yeah the dogs dragged him out of bed and into a cushy cell to talk to him about Westacres. It looked brutal,” Roddy laughed, loading up CCTV footage of a tightly handcuffed River being frogmarched out of his apartment building and shoved into the back of a black SUV.

For that sprint I got 288 words!

[too-many-rooks]

Started working on a Slough House sims version. I think I need to up the grimyness factor by about a thousand but, coming along all right! The interior is trickkkkkyyy bc they don't film inside this building so nothing quiiite makes sense. I did make a really grungry Chinese restaurant in the ground floor though. Then gave up half way through roddy's office

[keferon]

Part 2 of Drift/Deadlock and Hot Rod playing air hockey with their remaining brain cells!

Ratchet desperately plays referee.

———————————————————————

The morning Sun was poking Ratchet in the eyes. He scrubbed one hand over his face while the other groped down the side of his recliner for the lever to drop his feet.

There was one more blanket on him than what he’d gone to sleep with.

Daw.

Ratchet needed something bitter immediately to compensate.

Rolling out of his chair with a patented old man grunt, Ratchet was about to get coffee when he realized there was a distinct lack of nitwits harassing him.

Ratchet could hear Hot Rod and Deadlock outside and turned heel to enforce some basic self preservation. He paused, and grabbed a broom for good measure.

Sitting crisscross on the pavement, Deadlock was rolling Hot Rod from one hand to the other and back again. The pilot alternated between somersaulting, sliding and swinging back and forth all while not breaking conversation.

“So you caught on fire and just kept fighting anyways?”

“Yup! Turned out to be an awesome way to get out of any grapple instant-“ Hot Rod huffed, tucking into another roll, “-taneoulsy!”

Ratchet cleared his throat and Deadlock instantly closed his hands around Hot Rod like a kid caught playing with something he shouldn’t have.

“Watcha got there?”

“Nuthin.” Said Deadlock.

“Nuthin.” Said Hot Rod, muffled.

Deadlocks face was twitching more and more the longer he tried to keep an innocent expression. He didn’t even bother trying to suppress the way his finales wriggled in clear amusement.

Hot Rods red mop of a head popped up between Deadlocks thumbs.

“Mornin Ratch! How’d ya sleep?”

Ratchet put the broom down, for now.

“I slept surprisingly well. And don’t call me Ratch.”

“Deadlock gets to call you Ratch! He also calls you HRUMF-“ Hot Rod was unceremoniously cut off. Deadlock frowning down at his re-clasped fists.

Ratchet couldn’t quite make out what his mech was muttering but it sounded suspiciously like “Little snitch.”

Before Ratchet could tell him to let Hot Rod go, both of Deadlocks finales snapped back with a twinned sharp CLACK.

“EUAGH.”

Deadlock whipped one hand away, shaking it vigorously while the other held Hot Rod upside down.

“He licked me!”

“And I’ll do it again!” Hot Rod yelled, tiny fists raised in victory.

Ratchet got the broom back out, “Kid, put him down. Gently. And Hot Rod, stop fucking licking people.”

Adequately humbled by threat of bristly doom, both dipshits complied.

Hrmph.

“Okay, Roddy, you know the drill before I’ll let you you head back to base.”

Hot Rod sighed in overdramatic resignation before plopping his butt on an often forgotten picnic table that got more use from spiders than humans. Deadlock rested his chin on his un-licked hand and watched curiously.

Ratchet appreciated that, though he wouldn’t admit it. Deadlock was always quiet and thoughtful while Ratchet worked. Kid had an uncanny talent for anticipating what Ratchet needed and picked up on when the bioengineer worked beyond his limits. Well, tried to work beyond his limits.

Since Deadlock started living with him, Ratchet never got away with overworking anymore. He was a big fella with a fearsome temper that dissuaded most folks from pushing him. Previous challengers that tried to force Ratchet to maintain a work-life balance usually gave up on him around the same time the first throwable object goes sailing towards their face.

Deadlock just snorted and put his foot down.

Literally.

He put his foot on top of a piece of particularly contentious machinery that had been driving Ratchet up the wall, refusing to move until he agreed to a “Power Nap” that ended up lasting 6 hours.

Ratchet snorted at the memory and pulled out a pen light as he started Hot Rods physical.

“Hey how far do you think you could throw me?”

Ratchet felt his soul sigh.

“Dunno, couple hundred feet? You’re pretty light.”

“Do not encourage him.” If Ratchet got any satisfaction from Hot Rod wincing as he checked his pupil dilation, then that was his business.

“Okay, but what if I was in a roll cage? It’d be heftier to throw AND safer. Ratchet! You could even design one so it’s definitely up to spec!”

Ratchet was going to get an ulcer from second hand stupid.

He pinched the bridge of his nose very hard before speaking, “You want me to make you a human sized hamster ball so Deadlock can bat you around like a spoiled house cat?”

“Yeah!”

“No!”

Hot Rod mumbled dejectedly to himself while Ratchet tested his range of motion. Once satisfied, Ratchet moved onto the question’s section.

“Alright Roddy, any headaches?”

“No.”

“Nausea?”

“No.”

“Balance issues?”

“You saw me do a whole gymnastics routine on a giant vampire-space-robot.”

“Hrmph. Light headedness?”

“No.”

“Lapses in consciousness?”

“Sleeping count?”

“Hot Rod.”

“Joking! And no.”

“Blurry vision, ringing in the ears or sensitivity to light or noise?”

“Nope, nope, and nope! I’m fine Ratchet!”

“I’m fine Ratchet? You know how many currently dead pilots have said that to me?”

“Well, Pharma signed off on-“

Ratchet slammed the penlight down on the cracked wood table with more force than necessary, making both the pilot and the mech jump.

“Pharma is a conceited piece of SHIT and the only thing his ‘Sign Off sheets’ are good for is WIPING. MY. ASS.”

Ratchet forced air through his nose. Both Deadlock and Hot Rod frozen in place, wide eyed and tense.

Shit.

Ratchet broke the unintended stare down by scrubbing a hand over his face. He should really shave.

“Sorry. You’re not in trouble. It’s just-“

“Pharma.” Hot Rod finished. “It’s okay doc, I get it. You got waaaay higher standards than him. S’why I keep coming back. I trust you. And I know no matter how bad things get you’ll always have our backs, and we’ll have yours.”

It was moments like these that reminded Ratchet of why he wanted to fight for people like Hot Rod.

“Plus,” Hot Rod leaned towards Deadlock and yell-whispered dramatically. “He’s been a huge asshole ever since Ratchet dumped him.”

It was moments like these that reminded Ratchet of why he wanted to strangle people like Hot Rod.

“Stop phrasing how I left the mecha program like that. It wasn’t just Pharma I had issues with.”

Ratchet tucked his penlight away and ignored the murderous plotting he could feel wafting off of Deadlock. Don’t kill my “ex” coworker was still a rule in effect until further development.

“Last question. Any weird pressures?” Ratchet did finger quotes around the last two words and waited.

Hot Rod was about to automatically say No again but stopped short, and visibly did a mental check of himself.

“Uh, kind of around my stomach and the top of my thighs?”

Ratchet hummed, “Alright, pull up your shirt a little.”

Hot Rod did as he was told, just above the waistband, Ratchet could see some mild day old bruising.

“Yep, that’s what you get for flinging yourself through a car window instead of using the door ya dingbat.”

Ratchet straightened up and appraised the pilot one more time.

“Alright, make sure you put some ice on that when you get back. Otherwise you’re good to go.”

Hot Rod pulled his shirt back down and broke into a grin.

“Thanks Ratchet! See you guys again soon! Don’t do anything awesome without me until then okay?” Hot Rod pointed back to Deadlock for that last bit and waited until he said “On my life!” before finally driving off with a wave goodbye.

—————————

They had each finished their breakfasts, oatmeal and horrible alien blood respectively, when Ratchet said “I need to talk to you about something.”

Deadlock tensed, plating pulling in close before loosening again. Kid probably thought he was in trouble but could tell immediately that Ratchet wasn’t upset with him. He wasn’t sure how the mech did it, but damn if it didn’t make talking to him easier.

“What’s up?” He wiped quintesson gunk from his mouth.

“You gotta be careful with Hot Rod. You really cannot feed into any crazy ideas he has because he will get hurt and it will be by accident.”

Deadlock pinned his finales back and crinkled his nose. “I was careful Ratch. I did everything the way you taught me. I didn’t pick him up by the head, didn’t squeeze him too hard or nothin. And I was ready to stop at any second the moment he said anything hurt!”

“Kid.” Ratchet rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the thing. He can’t.”

Deadlock tilted his head, “What do you mean?”

———————————————————————

It’s getting real late again and I’ve already resigned myself to making this a three parter.

This time on the Trio of Friendship and Bad Ideas: Deadlock gets to play with a human slinky, Ratchets looses his sanity and something is up with Hot Rod.

Secrets of the mecha programs side effects will be revealed! Next time.

- SSTP

The way I legitimately can't stop smiling while reading this.....

The way your writing feels like a beam of pure joy flashbanging me through the screen. I can't evenKTYLGMNFHD I DONT FUCKING KNOW WHAT ARE YOU ADDIND IN YOUR WRITING BUT THIS STUFF IS ADDICTING PLEASE KEEP IT UP 👁

Also the mental image of Roddy being a human equivalent of a fidget toy for Deadlock is so entertaining I couldn't resist drawing it jfyjncfh

Roddy still doesn't have a design...oh well........

[neighboringheart]

woke up with a fever which means more canceled plans bc my body doesn't let me do fucking anything anyway minimegarod (or megarodimags? it's Mags in this scenario) breeding kink shit on the brain

picture it with me Rodimus strapped to a breeding contraption (I know it's got a name but I'm too tired and ill to remember rn) that keeps him comfortably laying on his front legs spread and valve bared but he's also strapped down so he can't escape even if he wanted to but they've been planning this for weeks so he's already dripping

Magnus playing the role of Rodimus' owner soothing him and telling him that he found the perfect stud to breed him until he's round with strong newsparks (which not possible in this scenario but he's saying it for Roddy's sake) and Rodimus whimpering and squirming like he's nervous until he feels huge warm servos land on his hips and a fat spike nudge his valve

Megatron grinds against his folds for a moment and it's the only warning Roddy gets before he's pressing in and spreading his loose walls wide around the plentiful ridges that adorn his shaft

for the sake of extra weird details Megs is also wearing a removable set of fake balls that Rodimus loves for the way they smack against his node with every rough thrust and it only makes the fantasy feel more immersive as though he actually could be bred which just makes him pull harder against his restraints trying to fuck himself against Megatron's fat spike

the final icing on the cake is the way Roddy gets more and more desperate as he feels Megatron's knot slowly inflate and bump against his entrance

Magnus will hold his face and pet him gently telling him that he's being so good and that he's gonna be full so soon and then he can rest and be pampered just like the rest of the carriers taking spike whenever he needs it

the knot is roughly shoved into him and he overloads drooling as he feels his valve filled with a thick flood of transfluid

it lights up every node he has and makes him feel weightless his walls stretching to hold it all and when Megatron's hips twitch trying to get just a bit more friction the way it sloshes rips a broken moan from his vocalizer

there's just so much and it feels so good clinging to every inch of the inside of his valve

he's barely cognizant as Magnus carefully wipes over his body waiting for Megatron's knot to deflate but when Megs finally pops it out Roddy's eyes go wide as some of the viscous cum squirts out of his valve sobbing as more tries to dribble out of him

how can he be a good carrier if he can't hold all that he's given what if it doesn't take

but Magnus is swift to scoop up whatever is dripping down his thighs and pressing it back into him easily sliding a plug into place that locks every last drop inside steadily pulsing charge to keep Rodimus calm

and if Magnus decides to commit a taboo and fill up his lovely bitch's aft port with a fat load of transfluid of his own who's to know

Rodimus certainly wouldn't tell anyone even if he could

[himbos-hotline]

if you’re taking drabble requests i’d love to see your take on roderick strong/kyle o’reilly! i’ve been really into them recently. from sadie btw!

Maybe this time

Undisputed Kingdom | 300 words | "angst"

word: communication

Sometimes Kyle wishes it was easier to talk to people. He watches Roddy from the corner of his eyes as he sits, head curled under Cole's jaw. "What's wrong?" He feels Cole's jaw twitch above him and when Roddy's eyes glare back over at them, through fluttering eyelashes; the air around them changes, it makes Kyle feel sick. His fingertips tingle and his stomach flips and he waits just a little impatient as Roddy rolls a thought around his brain. He wonders how the words taste on his tongue when he shrugs and quietly whispers.

"Nothing."

The two of them stare at one another for longer than what they mean too. Kyle sets heavy set sad eyes on Roddy's reddening cheeks, the twitching of his bottom lip and somewhere in his chest, a part of his heart opens again. Cole moves slowly under Kyle's twitching grip and it makes him frown when she sits up and stares down at him, kissing the back of his ear. "I'll be back." And Adam says it like a promise.

But Roddy must hear it as a threat, as some sort of lie because he sits up against the couch, shoulders hunched but back straight; he twitches like a cat stalking prey and Kyle just closes his eyes.

He doesn't flinch when Roddy's arm wraps around his middle from behind. He lets him press a kiss to the top of his head, smooth rough hands over the curve of his jaw until Kyle can't help but force his eyes open to study his face, stare into the browns of his eyes. "It'll be different now." Roddy says simply and when his lips press against Kyle's, as if he's sealing it like a promise, Kyle can't do anything other than wish that communication was easier.

⏤⏤⏤╝❀ taglist ❀╚⏤⏤⏤╗

@smallestsnarkestgirl @skyqueen3 @josiewrites @itsnoosetome @jacedoe

@golden-disaster @sincyrlee @glitchaxolol @chainsawmoxley @fletcherfluid

@katries @thegizardofmars @motorcitygem @miru-has-thoughts @powderflower

@miserablecreachur @afterdarkprincess @mobiblackout @golden-disaster

@harvey-dent @aerodaltonimperial @spacegatito @meginthebuilding27

@appleappreciator31

[breakingdiamondboi]

Thunderclash: Your unending confidence is inspiring to everyone and your spark is a supernova for those fortunate to witness its flare! Rodimus, my dearest Prime, you are my light within this dark universe! Rodimus: ...I don't know if I should be flattered or disgusted.

[scribensmulier]

Such Nights as This

pairing: roddy piper x f!reader

word count: 1759

warnings: mutual masturbation, phone sex, use of sex toys, daddy kink

the title is from the Roman poet Propertius describing his beloved: "while I live I am hers, hers will I be in death. But if she grants till then such nights as this to me, a single year would be a long life's span; and if she gives them often, I would never die: one night like this could make a man a god!"

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

When your phone rang, you didn’t hesitate for a second to answer it, knowing it would be Roddy. “Well, hello there.”

“Hey gorgeous.” His already-raspy voice was hoarse after a lengthy promo that night, and the sound swirled through your body. “How you doing tonight?”

You laid back on the bed to relax while talking. He had only been gone two days, but ever since you had moved in together and had gotten used to always having him around, his absences were all the more frustrating. The two of you caught up on everything that had happened since your last conversation (just last night), your work day and his show a couple hours earlier. 

“Babe, listen,” Roddy began, his voice deepening a touch. “I really miss you, you know that?”

“I know. I miss you a lot too. It won’t be much longer, though. It’s a short trip.”

“Yeah yeah. You know, I actually got my own room this time.”

“Yeah? That’s awesome. You don’t have to deal with anyone throwing pillows at you when you snore!”

“Ha ha, funny. But I can also do what I want. All by myself. As much as I want…”

“Roddy, you slut,” you jokingly chastised him. “With all that freedom I’m surprised you’re wasting your time talking to me.”

He lightly chuckled before continuing. “Listen, I want you to do something for me. It’s not what you think.” You paused, knowing he had more to say. “I mean, it kind of is what you think, but something else first.”

“Just tell me what it is, babe.” You couldn’t help smiling to yourself in anticipation.

“The dresser in our room. Go take a look in the bottom drawer, under the sweaters.”

What the hell did he have planned? Why did he want you to dig through a drawer? You sighed dramatically as you got up. “What am I looking for?”

“You’ll know when you see it. Trust me.” And he was right. Exactly where he had said, under the sweaters, was a small box, about half the size of a shoebox, with your name written on it in his scrawl. 

“Roddy… what is this?”

“Just open it, baby.” 

You did as instructed, and a small chuckle escaped your lips. You hadn’t known what you expected to find in the box, but in hindsight you probably should’ve expected the sex toy that now rested in your hands. “Jesus, Roddy, you got me a vibrator? And hid it from me?”

He scoffed. “Like I don’t know about your other one. This one’s for us.”

“For us? So you want me to use it on you?”

“Eh, let’s think about that some other time. Right now I want you to use it on yourself. I made sure it’s already charged.”

“Right now? Should… should I hang up?”

“Don’t ask silly questions, baby. I want to hear every little whimper you make once you turn that thing on. I’m already rock hard thinkin about it.” 

You let out a shaky breath and blinked quickly to clear your mind. Some tiny part of your brain felt nervous about the idea of using a sex toy while someone else was listening, even if that someone else was the love of your life. But some greater part of your brain smothered that thought, because you really really wanted to do this. “Alright. Do you have a specific plan for me?”

“Hmm… well you definitely should take all your clothes off. Not just your pants; everything.” As he spoke, you did what he instructed, setting the phone on speaker mode so you’d have both hands free. “Make sure you pile up the pillows and get yourself all nice and comfy.”

“What about you? Are you all nice and comfy too?”

“Of course. I’ve had my dick in my hand this whole time, just thinking about you all naked for me. Play with your nipples, pinch them a little. Do that little thing I do that you like so much.”

You knew what he meant, and you closed your eyes to imagine it was Roddy working you over instead of your own hands. As he continued his directions, you found it increasingly difficult to resist grabbing the vibrator, but you knew that the wait would be worth it. Even being in a different city, he had you obeying his every word, completely wrapped around his finger. Exactly the way you liked it.

“Alright, princess, how about you spread those gorgeous thighs for me? Don’t do anything yet, just spread ‘em. Good girl. Now just slide one finger in, and tell me how wet you are.”

“Mmm... so wet.”

“Yeah? Good. Taste yourself for me. Lick yourself off that finger and tell me how you taste.”

You moaned as you followed his command. “Tastes so good, Roddy. I wish you were here to taste it for yourself.”

Through the speaker you heard him sharply inhale. “Fuck, me too. When I get back I’m gonna make up for all this lost time. You got your special new toy ready?”

“Mmhmm.” You didn’t trust your voice; you were too caught up in the moment to be coherent.

“Good girl. Now you can turn it on, just to the first setting.” A low buzzing sound filled the room. “Nice, baby, that’s it. Go ahead and put it on that pretty pussy. Right around your clit.” 

“Oh fuck.” The words were out before you realized it. For such an average-sized toy, it certainly had some power to it. This is just the first setting? you thought to yourself. 

Roddy’s breathing sounded shaky already. “Don’t cum without me, babe,” you admonished him. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I just… you sound so good, my beautiful girl. I can picture you lying there on our bed, all soaking wet for me, playing with your clit and pretending it’s me. I know you look so fucking hot like that, baby.”

His words made you whimper. The vibrator felt great, but nothing felt as right as Roddy. “You still touching yourself?” you asked, suspecting you knew the answer already.

“Had to take a break.” He let out a breathy chuckle. “Hearing my girl had me almost ready to cum all over myself. Keep going - move it around, see how it feels on every part of your pussy, tell me about it.”

One hand was still on your breast, and you kept it there while you slowly traced the vibrator along your folds, pausing to press it to your entrance. The tease of penetration combined with the vibrating silicone drew a deep moan from you as your words failed.

“Oh I like that sound. You put it in a little bit, didn’t you?” You wordlessly agreed. “Good girl. Why don’t you work it in a little more? I bet that vibration feels so good inside you.”

All sorts of salacious utterances spilled from your lips as you slid the toy into your dripping pussy, feeling every sensation that it offered you. “Babe… please…” 

“What do you need, baby? Tell me.” 

Truthfully, you didn’t even know what you were pleading for. “I just need you, baby, I need you to fuck me.” 

“I will soon, as soon as I can. You know that. Can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Click the little button on that toy. Put it up to the next level.”

Although you weren’t thrusting or really moving it at all, the added intensity set you on edge. “Fuck, oh fuck, I’m so… oh my god it feels so good.”

“Good, I like hearing that.” You could tell from his quavering tone that he had taken himself in hand again, softly groaning as he spoke. “Take the vibrator out.”

You nearly froze in surprise. “What? Why?”

“Just do it.” You did. “Here’s what you’re going to do now. You’re going to use it on your clit, drive yourself insane, okay baby? And you’re gonna use your fingers inside to make yourself feel even better. Start with two fingers. Can you do that for me?”

Your own voice trembled as you responded. “Yes, daddy.” 

Fuck. You hadn’t meant to say that. It had slipped out two or three times before, and you knew he was into it, but it still felt like a new and unfamiliar step. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. I need to hear you say it again.”

This time you spoke with more confidence. “Yes, daddy.” 

“God, you better be fucking yourself right now, because I’m not gonna make it much longer, hearing that. You doing what I said?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good girl. Three fingers now, okay? Three fingers for daddy.”

There were no words to describe the moan you uttered when he said that. You quickly obeyed, easily sliding a third finger into your drenched hole. With your free hand, you positioned the vibrator directly on your clit, letting it send shivering currents through your overly sensitive body. 

“You sound so sexy, baby. I’m getting so close.” You noted the changes in his breath, and knew he wasn’t exaggerating. “Get yourself there for me, I want you to cum with me.” 

“I’m… fuck I’m so close. Please.” You were all but panting into the speaker at this point, desperate for release but wanting to time it perfectly with him.

“Good girl. Make yourself cum, baby, cum for me. Cum for daddy.” He was barely able to pronounce the final word, he was so close to the precipice.

Hearing Roddy call himself daddy once more was all you needed. You cried out all manner of unholy things as an intense orgasm slammed into you. “Oh fuck daddy, I’m coming for you, fuck-”

A hoarse groan on the other end of the phone let you know that he too had reached his peak. “That’s it, baby, I’m coming for you too. I’m… fuck yeah… oh my god…”

For the next moment, the only sounds were laborious breathing and weak whimpers as you both rode out the waves of pleasure, thinking only of each other. You blindly reached out for the vibrator you had dropped in the heat of the moment, making sure to switch it off.

“I fucking love you so much, baby,” Roddy breathed into the phone. “I really do.”

“I love you too.” 

He laughed suddenly. “Best purchase ever. It felt good?”

“So fucking good,” you answered honestly, then paused. “I still miss you, though. I wish you were here.”

“Me too, baby. I’ll be back soon, though, yeah? And you can show me all your tricks with your new toy.” 

[tilly-tittle]

The only thing between me cooking up a Transformers Epic AU is the fact I have no idea who would be Rodimus’s equivalent to Penelope and Telemachus :’)

Like every other character I can probably decide as I go but like

Rodimus can’t lack Odysseus’s only motivation in life

Also the amount my brain want to draw will actually kill me so maybe I’ll never start oop