#servo motion controllers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keferon · 3 months ago

Note

Odds of Survival Part 3

Unstoppable forces meets immovable objects.

Or Prowl finds new reasons to be concerned.

———————————————————————

While Prowl had destroyed the bombers attacking their end of the bridge, the other side had no such saving grace.

The opposite end of the sky bridge had broken off from the Commerce Tower and was now swinging downwards, creating a miles long ramp to obliteration.

There was a 4% chance Prowl could technically survive the impact. However he’d almost certainly be reduced to a sputtering spark trapped in a compacted pile of scrap that had once been his frame. Without instantaneous medical intervention, he would most certainly perish even in the event of the 4% survival chance occurring.

4% halved to 2% when Tacnet registered Jazz magnetizing his hands to Prowls frame.

Tacnet spun wildly and without traction. Whatever actions Prowl could have taken to mitigate the incoming damage was removed by Jazz’s inescapable hold. Every possible strategy terminated instantly in a flurry of error messages as Tacnet tried to factor for the impossible.

Physically, Prowls servos moved on their own, driven by some core deep coding for self preservation that had him frantically clawing at Jazz’s back for either a hand hold or escape as Tacnet spat out a single coherent plan:

(Brace For Impact)

The Praxian briefly wondered if he’d crash before they crashed.

The mechs jolted as Jazz made contact with the bridge turned ramp. A fountain of sparks spraying from his pedes as Jazz hit the bridge upright and began skating down the buckling surface.

Jazz wasn’t just passively sliding along either. Prowl felt powerful legs tense and thrusters make quick adjustments to narrowly avoid lethal splinters of braking pipes and metal sheets.

Odds of Survival 5%

Odds of Survival 6%

Prowl watched the impossible as Tacnet slowly ticked upwards. Through some stroke of insanity, Jazz was controlling their descent. Analyzing the white mechs motions, Prowl concluded they were practiced. Unbelievably, Jazz somehow had previous experience with similar circumstances.

On what Fragging planet does somebody regularly go careening down incredibly steep slopes at high speeds with only their own athleticism to keep them alive?!

Skill alone wasn’t enough however, because Jazz was slowly loosing control. As the sky bridge swung inexorably downwards, their ramp was steadily becoming steeper. Prowl could feel one of Jazz’s legs beginning to involuntarily shudder under the continued strain. The obstacles kept coming faster and faster, the visored mech barely keeping pace.

If he dropped me, Jazz has a 23% chance at saving himself.

Prowl caught sight of a chunk of bridge breaking outwards that spanned the total width of it. No getting around it. The jagged edge lifted just high enough to bisect him just below the wings. Prowl turned away.

Jazz leapt.

The deafening vibrations of metal on metal grinding suddenly stopped. An instrumental segment filled the gap.

Gravity ended their short reprieve.

This time when they collided with bridge, Prowl felt Jazz land wrong and then suddenly the sky was whipping past his optics.

Stars, moon, bridge. Stars, moon, bridge. Stars, moon, bridge. Stars, moon, bridge.

Tacnet greedily took in their current velocity, rate of rotation, and angle of the sky bridges decent to inform Prowl that Jazz and his combined weight would land on his helm.

Thank you Tacnet, I hate you.

Jazz shifted and Prowls vision went white.

Despite Tacnets certainty to the contrary, Prowl was not unconscious or dead.

ERROR, moon, ERROR. Stars, moon, bridge. Stars, ERROR, bridge, rubble. Stars, moon, bridge, rubble.

They were flipping through the air again.

Jazz landed on his feet this time but couldn’t stop their rolling. Prowl felt fast painful scrapes against his servos and peds.

Stars, bridge, rubble. Stars, bridge, rubble.

Tacnet took in their velocity and rotation again. Calculating their distance to the wreckage at the end of their fall.

Impact Survival 74%

Impact location Doorwings 87%

At least his doorwings were already offlined.

By then, the two mechs were no longer bouncing, but rolling fully across the remains of the bridge. Prowl locked himself around Jazz and braced for impact.

Collision was instant and deafening.

Prowls sense of balance was rubber banding. The instant stop after what felt like vorns of spinning out of control was just as disorientating as the fall itself.

In a lapse of memory, he onlined his doorwings.

Prowl remembered why he left them offline a click too late and sucked in a vent.

Except. They were functioning. The edges stung and the tip’s were badly chipped but both sensors were fully operational.

Blunt helm trauma. He must be having a severe processor malfunction. Prowl unlocked protesting joints and looked over his shoulders at his doorwings.

They were only lightly damaged, fully functional, and only a servos width from the pile of rubble he was being held above.

A black and white arm extended past his wings, buried wrist deep in the wreckage.

Jazz still had a death grip around his waist, visor pressed into Prowls shoulder.

“Jazz?” Prowl tried. If he put his vocalizer against his audial, the sound should carry. The music played out its final notes, leaving the silence of the moon in its wake.

“Jazz?” Prowl tried a little harder, pulling at the servo still magnetized to his back, unhooking his peds to kneel on the rubble. They had fallen into the 90 degree crook of the second cylindrical extension. The bridge had come to rest at last, kicking up enough moon dust to obscure their survival from any searching quintessons. For now.

Jazz slurred something in his native language, before repeating in common, “Gimme a click. I’m gonna throw up real quick.”

Prowl flared his wings, scanning the area. It was a relatively short drop to the moons surface. Once there, Prowl could transform and carry the both of them at speed to the outpost. Clearly, Jazz had no trouble holding onto him.

Speaking of, Jazz finally, slowly began to uncurl from Prowls frame.

He looked terrible. His visor had splintered crack’s across one side, the isolated fragments independently flickering. One horn was stuck pinned against his helm, sparking where shrapnel was jammed into the gap. He was visibly wobbling, and even with an em field Prowl could tell he was badly disoriented.

Jazz stared at Prowl for a while, before looking to his hand still buried in rubble. He tried pulling it free gently and when that didn’t work, got a completely ruined and mostly toe-less ped braced next to it and yanked

Jazz’s hand came free. At the same time something important looking snapped and fell out of his shoulder. The limb going limp.

Prowl didn’t have the bandwidth to process that at the moment.

Instead, he plucked up the chunk of shoulder into sub space. Tacking that onto the growing list of injuries they’d both needed tending to.

Cautiously, Prowl reached up to gingerly touch the back of his helm, fully expecting to feel exposed and crushed circuitry. Instead, he felt several dents, aligned in parallel. Very tender, but most certainly not as damaged as it should have been.

How?

Tacnet answered by mapping the contours of the dents, drawing Prowls optics to the back of Jazz’s obliterated servo.

The remains of the sky bridge shuttered.

Odds of Survival 45%

Prowl got Jazz’s attention and began pulling him towards the ledge they’d need to descend. Effectively deaf, probably blind, down an arm and forced to walk on two severely injured peds, Prowl only felt some relief when he finally wrangled Jazz to rest on top of his alt form.

Watching him struggle down the ledge was utterly disturbing to watch. Jazz limped along as if he was completely desensitized to pain, behaving as if he was more annoyed by his injuries than agonized.

Package secured, Prowl gunned it for the outpost. Even injured, he trusted Jazz to stay magnetized to his frame with whatever he had left to hold on with.

Out of the dust cloud, Prowl was intimately aware of how exposed they’d be. Confident he wouldn’t loose Jazz, Prowl focused entirely on plotting the most efficient route to the outpost.

The moment it came into view, Prowl pushed his engine past the redline as he registered sniper shots firing just past and above them.

Pursuing quintesson wreckers 78%.

Sure enough, a dead wrecker crashed into the moon dirt a short distance to their left.

Prowl managed a drifting slide past the out post gates, losing exactly enough momentum to match the speed of a running mech, then transformed back to root mode in the same maneuver. An exceedingly useful technique when chasing criminals and a damn effective way to shoulder someone on your roof through a door in the most efficient manner possible.

[Bluestreak, I’ve made it inside the outpost. I have an injured mech with me.]

[Heya Prowl! I saw you tearing it up out there with your backpack buddy! I’ve got a few more stragglers to take care of but you’re welcome to use the medic case I’ve got with me in here. I’ll ping the door for you.]

The primary medkit should be in the outpost storage closet. That is unless Bluestreak pulled it into his snipers nest to tend to his own injuries (22%). Or because Bluestreak pulled it there to force Prowl to bring his “backpack buddy” within conversational distance (92%).

He felt a tap at his shoulder, “Are we safe here?” Jazz yelled in the thin atmosphere. Visor flickering worse than before and visibly making an effort to stay balanced upright on eviscerated peds.

Priorities.

Prowl ignored his annoyance. He hit the trigger to pressurize the airlock and pulled Jazz’s good arm over his shoulders to stabilize the other mech. He had easily a dozen lines of questioning queued up in the backlog of his processor, every single one tagged with Jazz as the subject line. As much as Prowl itched to piece together the puzzle of why he was “Like that.” It’d have to wait until they were both in more stable condition. At least now his vents could actually do something to start cooling his overstressed processor.

“For now. We are somewhat safe.”

Prowl muttered quietly in addition, “Against all odds.”

———————————————————————

Bluestreak, seeing Prowl with some very obvious hand prints and very specific paint scratches: “What in the pit did he do to you?”

Bluestreak, seeing Jazz walk in after him with a broken arm, busted horn and an utterly torn up paint job across his back: “What in the pit did YOU do to him?!”

Either one or two parts left, next up Jazz pov.

-SSTP

OH HELL SSTP LET ME HOLD YOUR HAND REALQUICK THIS IS A FIVE STAR MEAL FOR MY SOUL FKKDJFG I JUST. I NEVER FUCKING GET TIRED OF THE WAY YOU WRITE I know I'm probably repeating myself at this point BUT IT'S JUST WHAT MY TRUTH LOOKS LIKE OKAY. EVERY TIME I SEE AN ASK FROM YOU AND START READING IT I GO "Oh M A N the author cooked so hard they should've made Ratatouille 2 about this way of placing words."

#mecha pilot jazz au #mecha writing #mecha jp writing #NOW THIS IS WHAT A REAL TREAT LOOKS LIKE #CAN YOU HOOK THIS FIC UP STRAIGHT TO MY BRAIN PLEASE #the...the way the contrast is shown #Prowl who can feel pain. just straight up suffering bc he's alive robot #and Jazz who is a fucking war machine but also hooo boy I'm fucking scared to imagine what was happening inside the mech #maccadam #jazz #prowl #jazzprowl

610 notes · View notes

rabotimagines · 3 months ago

Text

"Toping you when they usually bottom" GN BOT Reader x Jazz, Prowl, Thundercracker, Soundwave

Summary: First time the bots top you when you usually top them.

Warnings: None.

Genere/Theme: Smut 🔞 MDNI

G1 characters: Jazz, Prowl, Thundercracker, Soundwave.

Notes: Reader bottoms for the first time. Bot reader so valve/spike used.

Pronouns: You, your, yours.

Jazz is a true no leaning switch himself. He expertly folds to fit his partners likes and wants. Jazz isn't too fixated on topping or bottoming, really. He just wants to have fun and share the moments with you. So he's not exactly bemoaning or anything about not topping you yet. ... But it's his creation day, and you ask him if he wanted anything particular, and he leans real close to you, smiles, and asks, "Let me eat your valve out?" Which leads to his current residence between your thighs, with him working you through your third overload of the night with his glossia. Jazz always gives oral like he's on a mission, and tonight wasn't any different. Jazz loves making you fall apart for him. Shame you didn't let him do it more often. He pulls away when you stop shaking from overload number three. "Let me just say... I love my gift." Jazz smiles easy and nuzzles his cheek against your inner thigh.

"Jazz -" the pitch in your tone makes him pause to make proper optical contact with you. Your expression was serious with no room for argument. Jazz fully expects you to tap out for the night when the last thing he expects sounds out of you. "Spike me."

Jazz's jaw sets, and he's on his pedes at a startling speed. "Oh baby can do-" his array pops opens and his spike pressurizes properly. He savors the sight of your dripping valve under his spike before sliding home easily due to how aroused you were. "Frag- Really spoiling me today, huh?" Jazz huffed a laugh, enjoying how you felt fluttering around him. Jazz doesn't wait to start thrusting in lazy but deep motions. Making sure to bottom out every time he did so. Jazz hoists your pedes up onto his pauldrons and traps you against him and his berth.

Jazz's pace picks up till he overloads with a sharp invent. Jazz groans at the feeling of spilling inside you, his hips lazily rolling against yours through it.

You're both venting against one another until Jazz eventually picks up his pace again. Hips soon snapping like they had been before. You jerk and grasp at Jazz's armor tight, your optics are deliciously bright while huffs and gasps slipped outta you. Valve still taking his spike so nicely. "Got two more overloads to go! Need to- catch up with you, Sweetspark." Course Jazz was planning on catching up again if he got you to overload again- and again-

It was unlikely, but Jazz really hopes he breaks before you do.

With Prowl, it's a touch- complicated. You didn't really "Top" so to speak before this point- but neither had he. Prowl didn't like losing control on the battlefield or in the berth. You just so happened to be the same. So you'd both begun with servo and mouth activities, with most times it leading to hot and heavy frottage. Most often, it would end with you both usually rutting against one another like a pair of aggressive cyber hounds. Yes, Prowl would like to overload in your valve, but he also wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of the opposite. So Prowl knew he had no right to ask you to do the same. You found a middle ground regardless, and it worked.

Prowl didn't count on it occurring, but it does end up happening when you're grinding against one another again. Both of your servos are over each other's spikes, jerking up and down at a steady pace. Prowl is already close to his own overload- only you end up releasing your own spike and shift, pushing your hips upwards. Prowl hissed in a vent and glanced down at where the head of his spike was now slotting against the folds of your valve. When he glances back up he was met by your bright optics "Prowl, if you don't spike me right now I'm leaving-" Prowls optics widen and he grasps at your armor and snaps his hips harshly. His spike bottoming out inside you with a gasp. Prowl vents harsh at the sensation of your valve wrapped around him.

Prowl frags you harsh against the berth, his chassis coming down and pressing hard against your own. Much too pent up from thinking he'd never be inside your valve like this and already much too close to overloading. Your servos grasp tight on the base of his doorwings, and Prowl groans. His hips buck harder and harder, trying to savor the hot rush it is. Eventually, you squeeze his doorwings, and Prowl overloads only to keep fragging you both right through it. His transfluid makes a mess of your inner thighs in the process. Until Prowl eventually bottoms out inside you and stilled. Prowl began huffing in panted vents.

He pulled back a touch, the sound of you huffing brings his optics back to your cobalt tinted faceplate. The after effects of a hardy valve overload are still obviously rocking through your frame.

Maybe Prowl could... offer to return the favor. Especially if it raised the chance of you doing the same afterward.

Thundercracker kinda does mind, but he also doesn't know how to bring it up. He didn't hate bottoming or anything he just really wants to top you more- or at all. He's got a spike, and he wants to frag you into the dirt with it. The problem is Thundercracker isn't going to say that, and he doesn't exactly know what he's supposed to say about it. So he elects he'll say something when he finds the chance. You're in Thundercrackers lap, glossia in his mouth with your modesty panels pulled back, grinding on one another. And in the heat of it, Thundercracker lifts your hips and drags the length of his spike across the opening of your valve. Your valve lubricant coats his spike, and he gasps at the feeling.

You only jolt and break away to stare down, and Thundercracker lately realizes what he'd just done. But this was the perfect chance to ask, right?

Thundercracker grabs your hips and tentatively lines his spike up with your valve. "Can I?" He asks stupidly, and Thundercracker is immediately regretting how he'd asked that. Why did he do that- Before he can rip into himself mentally, you wordlessly grabbed his pauldrons and started lowering your valve on his spike- and Oh Pit! He's inside you now- Thundercracker hissed a vent at the sensation of you dropping down his length. Digits grasped tight on your hip armor when you sat back in his lap, spike now fully inside you. Oh, you feel Perfect- slag. You squeezing down on him every time you vented made Thundercracker feel hazy.

Your digits abruptly dig into the sensitive base of his wings and Thundercracker keens and spills inside you. Thundercracker groans and ruts against you in short motions through his own overload. Thundercracker can feel his optics brighten fast and harshly in mortification when realization sets in. You're staring at where his own transfluid is now spilling down into Thundercrackers lap. Thundercracker opens his mouth to apologize, but all that comes out is a sharp grunt when you grind down in Thundercrackers' lap. Thundercrackers digits dig hard enough in your own waist the metal wants to try to give and you still. Thundercracker huffs and makes optic contact with you. "Wanna overload in me again?" You casually ask, apparently much too forgiving for Thundercracker.

Thundercracker nods fast a quick. "Yes." Sounding out of him, very glad you were giving him a chance to redeem himself. He genuinely did not know what he'd do with himself if that was his one experience with your valve.

Here's to hoping (and praying) he didn't frag up round two.

Soundwave is a true verse normally. But he's frankly so tired from war efforts that he barely has the energy to interface, let alone top most days. He doesn't have a problem indulging you with his valve when he's feeling lazy but still wants to sexually satisfy you. Yes, Soundwave would like to spike you more often or once even. But the days and battles take up most of his energy and free time. One day, you have a mission, and it ends with Soundwave pissed after stupid battlefield decisions that made the entire battle drag on much longer than needed. You were in group A and had a much easier time than Soundwaves group B during the mission. He enters his habsuite to find you already laying face down on his berth, having let yourself in.

Soundwave walks over and doesn't hesitate to straddle, and full-on shoves his faceplate flat on the back of your chassis. Eventually, his servos start wandering with his earlier frustrations feeding his continued touches. Soundwave skipped tracing and moved to fondling and pulling on your frame. Soundwave sees your modesty panel where your valve would be visible to him. he's digging his digits into your hips already. "Permission to spike?" You grant him it and pull your array back, and Soundwave doesn't hesitate to spike you then and there.

Soundwave would usually take his time to savor you or this, but Soundwaves frustrated. And you at least seem content taking that frustration for him. He'll have to reward you later for it, but right now, he's slamming himself into your valve from behind over and over again. "Soundwave- spike!" you muttered and- Ah- he sees. Your spike can't pressurize right with you flat on his berth. Soundwave pulls your hips up a touch, and your spike pressurizes instantly. Soundwave then snaps his hips hard enough to frag you back flat on his berth. Your spinal strut arched and your servos gripped at his berth for some type of purchase. You squeeze down on him, and Soundwave realizes he's about to overload. Soundwaves servos abandon your thighs, and he reaches over further to press his digits over your mouth.

Soundwave groans deep when you wordlessly take two of his digits in and start sucking. Your glossia laps along them with a hum and Soundwave bottoms out and promptly overloads inside you. You overload right after him, which makes Soundwave only press you harder into his berth. Your valve is twitching around his spike length as you come down from both your combined post overload high. You huff when Soundwave pulls his now oral lubricant soaked digits out of your mouth.

Soundwave might have to adjust his schedule and make the time so he can spike you again like this.

#transformers x reader #transformers x cybertronian reader #transformers x y/n #transformers #x reader #jazz x reader #prowl x reader #thundercracker x reader #soundwave x reader #transformers x reader smut #valveplug #Rabot writes #Last post had alot of reds now we got alotta blues #🔞

529 notes · View notes

tinydefector · 6 months ago

Text

Thundercracker rut cycle

Thundercracker x human

Rut cycle masterlist

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, giant/tiny, praising, sub Thundercracker.

This mech needs so much more with smut fics but gods did I have fun writing him getting treated to some praising.

_______________

The little human from earlier had Thundercracker's full attention. They are peacefully unaware of his burning gaze on them despite the sweet scent that came from their smaller frame, making him nearly snarl with want. His vents hitch slightly each time they shoot him a slight glance.

Venting deeply, the Seeker steadied himself. Fighting a losing battle to purge heated lines each time his frame caught a whiff of their scent, it was truly maddening to him, most times during rut he had Starscream or Skywarp, but as of recently neither of them had the time nor the interest.

"Hello, can I help you?" They call out to him their voice sounds so sinfully sweet to him that his digits dig into his servos as he watches them. They weren't afraid like many others of their species. Thundercracker vented sharply as the sweet scent of the little organic's arousal hit his olfactory sensors. His valve clenched and spike throbbed behind its panels at the alluring smell.

He reigns himself in enough to talk. Leaning down, his optics roved hungrily over the small creature's form. "Hello, fleshling," he rumbled, fans whirring loudly. The seeker cycled several intakes, struggling to override protocols screaming for him to claim a mate, he knew he should go and find one of his Trine or just another Decepticon but he was getting sick of getting sidelined over his needs.

"Your scent, it's very intoxicating" Thundercracker said gruffly. His plating felt too constricting against his frame, everything was screaming at his processor he needed to interface. The seeker loomed closer. They continue to watch him warily but relax slightly. "Oh, um thank you?" They feel rather exacerbated by the strange comment from the cybertronian. Their eyes flick to his vents that cast out loud whines with air as his plating shifts uncomfortably.

"Your species bears no reproductive cycles?" He questions helm tilted, most times all it took was remarking about their scent for Thundercracker to get someone in a berth during his rut, but now he's starting to question if humans actually have cycles. His panelling felt molten.

"Oh no, humans do have a reproductive cycle, we just don't tend to um.. smell it. Sorry you just took me off guard, I was aware that the Ark was on somewhat of a lock down due to your people experiencing some problems" They fluster slightly over saying it.

Leaning closer, the Seeker met their gaze. gritting his denta, as he tries to figure out the best way to broach the subject. "Are you alright, do you need me to get someone?" They ask softly. Thundercracker vented sharply as another wave of their scent washed over him. "Fraggit," he growled, fans whirring into their highest setting.

"I...apologise for my lack of control, it's getting to me. And no I doubt the other would be interested in helping" he vented. They look around for a moment, going quiet. "Close the door and sit down, you have to stay quiet though" they instruct while quickly making sure that they are the only ones in the room. "Do you want help with your problem?" They ask while motioning to his now leaking interface panel.

Thundercracker cycled a heavy ventilation as a whine leaves him, wings flicking at their words. "Primus, yes," the seeker growled, fans whirring loudly. He pressed the button for the door to close with a click, then lowered himself to sit on the floor. His optics burned hungrily as they roved over the human's smaller form.

The seeker cycled several intakes, fans howling as another surge of the organic's scent rolled over sensors. The moment they climb up onto his lap it has the seekers servos wrapping around their waist pulling them flush against his panel.

"Easy big guy, don't want you breaking me" they chuckle trying to make light of the situation. "Gotta be gentle with me, I'm human remember, I'm happy to help but you have to be gentle, tell me what you want pretty mech" they coo softly at him. Running their hands up his plating teasingly. Thundercracker managed to chuckle, though his voice carried a husky edge, betraying his own need.

"Alright, alright, I'll be gentle," he replied, his words laced with a mix of desire and restraint. He knew the importance of control, especially with a fragile being like this one.

They gasp as his servos cup their hips, feeling the way the metal digs into them through their clothing, They look up at him. " Is this alright?" They ask while slowly grinding against him.

The feeling has him nearly moaning as they grind against him. "Yeah, it's... it's more than alright," Thundercracker managed to reply, As they continued their slow, deliberate grinding, Thundercracker felt himself teetering on the edge of restraint. The sensation of their body moving against him, the heat and friction building between them, has groans and heavy vents of air falling from him.

Transfluid slowly leaks from the seams of his interface panel, as he continues to grind them against his heated plating. They gasp when the pink fluid begins to stick to their skin. "Didn't take you as one who liked humans" they chuckle softly,getting more comfortable as they continue to move against him.

"Oh, you have no idea," Thundercracker replied, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. The pink fluid that now adorned the human's skin and clothing has an almost primal part of the mech wanting to just rip the fabric off them. As he continued to guide them in their movements, the sensation of their bodies moving together sent shivers of pleasure through him. "You humans have your ways of surprising me," Thundercracker remarked, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

"You seem to be handling yourself rather well for being in rut" they tease, playful touches continued to stoke the fire of his arousal. "Well, what can I say? I've had plenty of practice," Thundercracker replied, despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through him, Thundercracker found himself oddly at ease in the human's presence, much more than he would be with Skywarp or Starscream. He didn't feel like he had to put up the Decepticon facade.

"Don't get many chances for release?" They inquire, as Thundercracker begins to trace their body through their shirt, enjoying how soft and delicate they feel. "Though the Decepticons would want their troops in tip top shape " they discard their shirt for him to have more access to their skin.

"Release? Ha! You have no idea," Thundercracker grunted, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and desire. "Peak condition? Yeah, right," Thundercracker scoffed, his movements growing more urgent as he touched their chest and stomach caressing and admiring. "The Decepticons don't care about our well-being, just our obedience," Thundercracker remarked, his tone laced with bitterness.

"Why do you stay with them then?" They hum as the cool metal of his servos trace down their chest and stomach, a deep hungry growl leaves him as the hormones and pheromones from their body make his own arousal more visible. "Why did I stay with them? It's complicated," Thundercracker began, his voice tinged with a hint of hesitation. The memories of his loyalty to the Decepticons, despite their lack of care for his well-being.

"Starscream and Skywarp are why I stay, they are my trinemates" Thundercracker explained, his movements growing more urgent.They move back enough to pull their pants off, throwing them to the floor and moving back to sit spread across his lap. "Come on pretty mech let me see what you've got hidden here, ill take care of you" Their bold actions sent a surge of desire coursing through Thundercracker's circuits, his systems humming with anticipation as they straddled his lap.

With a deep growl of longing, Thundercracker's interface panel opens his spike surge forth, transfluid leaking from it and down into his lap. "Oh woah" they stutter looking over the details and colours of his spike, the pink transfluid leaking through the ridges of his spike. they run their hands along it while moving closer for Thundercracker to grind against them. "I don't know if that will fit " the state shyly

"I assure you, it will fit just fine," he reassured them, his words carrying a hint of mischief and desire. As he lifts them up, slowly letting them get comfortable as he slowly presses into them. A loud moaned whine leaves them as Thundercracker presses his spike into their tight sex, his servos holding their hips as he grinds his spike deeper.

It is a tight grip and sinful feeling of how tight a human is wrapped around his spike. "Mmm, fuck never thought I'd be fucking a Cybertronian" they mumble thought a shaky breath. Gasping loudly as he thrust and rocks against them, never too rough with his movements.

As he grounds his spike deeper, feeling their body react to the tight grip, Thundercracker couldn't help but let out a low growl of satisfaction. "Mmm, that's it," Thundercracker's voice is a husky whisper, filled with desire. "You feel so good wrapped around me, human. Never thought I'd be indulging in such pleasures with one of your kind," he murmured, his tone laced with a newfound appreciation for the human before him. Despite the general disdain that Decepticons held towards humans and organics, he is rather enjoying himself.

Thundercracker found himself lost in the intoxicating sensations picking up his pace as he leaned back on the floor, wings twitching and stretching each time he tilted in them. feeling their tightness compared to Skywarp and Starscream, Thundercracker couldn't help but be amazed by how different it was, they are so much warmer and softer than a Cybertronian but took just as much of his spike.

"Mmm, you're something else," Thundercracker's voice was filled with admiration and lust. "You take me so well, frag im close," he confessed, his optics flicking off as he begins to buck into them. Their fingers scratch at his plating as Thundercracker growls lowly. He is so close to overloading despite not wanting to, his frame is pent up and this sweet little fleshling has him nearly a puddle on the floor due to how soft they are.

A primal moan escapes his vocalizer as he overloaded, grinding deeper into them as he holds them flush against his frame rutting into them trying to make sure they take as much of his transfluid as possible, little praises leave him as he holds them close. Loud moans leave them as they grip onto his plating as the bright pink fluid begins gushing from them, leaking into Thundercracker's plating and onto the floor. “ fuck..” they whine as they press their forhead to his frame.

“Are you alright?, your not hurt?” Thundercracker begins only for them to press back down onto his spike earning a mix of legitimate mix of words. “I'm more than alright blue but it looks like you need a lot more than just one go” they tease. Feeling how pent up he still is. He goes to move only for them to press a hand to his middle section. “Ah, ah no, I'm not done yet, pretty boy, you and I have some more getting to know each other to do” they coo at him onyk for his thrusters to flick on from their words.

Thundercracker could get used to this, he realises.

_______________

Let me know if you would like to be added to tag list (tagged for every fic)

Taglist

@angelxcvxc

@saturnhas82moons

@horizonartist980

@murkyponds

@buddee

@bubblyjoonjoon

@chaihena

@pyreemo

@lovenotcomputed

@mskenway97

@delectableworm

@cheesecaketyrant

@ladyofnegativity

@desertrosesmetaldune

@stellasfallow

@coffee-or-hot-cocoa

@shinseiokami

@tea-loving-frog

@aquaioart

@daniel-meyer-03

@pupap123

@dannyaleksis

@averysillylittlefellow

@rosielecktor

@shurushurubanban

@wosemoose1

@strawberrydutchling

@azuragalaxya

@dumpster-fae

@simp-sentral

@smallestapplin

@starscreamloverfr

@doodle-dongs

@natchayaphorn

@askcookieanon

@aerisvirtue

@horizonartist980

@soulless-nocturnal-raccoon

@gracebear

@lilliaslonghair

#transformers #transformers idw #mtmte #transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers generation one #gen 1 #tf generation one #tf gen 1 #transformers g1 #g1 transformers #tf thundercracker #thundercracker transformers #thundercracker idw #transformers thundercracker #thundercracker #Thundercracker x reader

305 notes · View notes

muletia · 2 months ago

Text

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

inspired by this very old ask about you giving opti diy crochet charms

cw: hardcore pinning, obsessive thoughts, optimus is bad with dealing with emotions

word count: 700

something small that I needed to get off my system <3

Digits glide over the soft yarn with calculated subtlety. A thumb slowly traces the indentations of the intricate patterns, acquainting itself with the texture of the interwoven chains and half-double stitches, magically linking together into a shape. A few motions are enough for him to memorize every dent and placement of the material, yet he does not cease his journey, still gently stroking the creation. After dozens of times, the tenderness gives way to adoration — he is aware of it, but cannot stop, incapable.

But he knows he should. Optimus uses this friendly gesture to feed the fire, burning ever fiercer with every movement of his thumb, taking advantage of your kindness to nurture the warped, unworthy-of-your-innocence feelings that slip further and further beyond control. He despises himself for it — oh, how he loathes himself — but has long since grown accustomed to self-hatred, his ever-present shadow at every turn. Hatred was familiar. The feeling of receiving gifts from you was a vibrant novelty he had yet to learn how to handle, for it terrified him with its rawness.

Crochet charms, as you called them. Everyone on Team Prime received a few, so he should not be assigning such immense significance to his own. Should simply be happy with the gift, accept it, and maybe glance at it occasionally, recalling your eyes gleaming with excitement like beads and your broad smile, radiating pure joy, as you handed your tiny creations to his massive servo. A star and a sunflower — both incredibly delightful, almost as much as your expression when you saw that he had accepted your present.

"Tomorrow, I can help attach them to your mirror in the alt mode. If you’d like to, of course" you told him, and though he longed for nothing more than to fall to his knees before you and beg you to do it now, the only thing he managed to utter was:

"I would be delighted."

But he cannot simply be "delighted". Cannot just set your creations aside and occupy himself with other things when a piece of you is so close to him. Cannot fall into indifference, seeing it as an affront to you. Wants to cherish the crumbs of attention you have given him, to savor this non-physical affection he is unworthy of but treasures more than the ability to sustain himself with energon. Wants to linger by the proof of your kindness for as long as he can, fully aware of his madness yet unable to put its source away.

His thumb moves to the sunflower, gently pressing into the material. A gift from you. You. He never asks for anything, demanding only the preservation of safety. Optimus doesn't seek glory, gold, or riches, for he has found them in you — and you are the most magnificent treasure he could have ever dreamed of. Yet you went a step further, crafting something with your own hands, dedicating your precious time to him. You called your gift modest, but in this, he cannot agree with you, for to him, it was everything. And soon, it would permanently become a part of him.

It is an exhilarating thought, but also a treacherous one, for he knows these are the last moments he will hold your creations in his servos. The final moments to touch, to encode the texture into his memory, to relish the sight of your affection woven into physical form. Wanting to make the most of it, he brings the crochet charms closer to his faceplate, pressing against the soft fabric. Closes his optics, sharpening the remaining senses, focusing entirely on the feeling of having a piece of you so close to him. Knows he is defiling your gifts, that he should have let them be long ago and forced himself to suppress his erratic emotions towards you, but he cannot, craving to draw every ounce of impure satisfaction from this moment.

He clings to the gifts more tightly. Just a little longer. A nanoklik, he tells himself — but he cannot bring himself to turn his helm away.

#transformers x reader #optimus x reader #optimus prime x reader #obsessed!optimus

203 notes · View notes

revelboo · 4 months ago

Note

REVEL BOO! PLEASE POST ANOTHER CHAPTER IF AOK WITH BLURR! AND MY LIFE IS YOOOOUUUURS!!!

Well, alright then

Fighting my deplorable impulse control because I really want to assemble these, but also realize they’re limited editions and some of the singles are already selling for around $40 but…. Shiny Starscream…

A-Ok Pt 3

TFA Blurr x Reader

• Helmet bouncing and rolling away on the concrete, he stares at the limp form in his servos. Did you just die? Had known humans were delicate, but this i I s ridiculous. Shifting you to one hand and catching your face to tip it up, he can feel a pulse in your throat. Seem to be breathing, too. Good. Just offline and helpless. “Scrap.” Would you be okay if he just leaves you here? Somehow he doubts it. Shoulders slumping, he turns in a fidgety circle, not sure if he’s looking for another human to pawn you off on, but giving up, he hefts you over a shoulder and takes off.

• Motions blurring as he streaks through alleys, hits a wall and propels himself up, that giddy sense of freedom spreads through him. Momentarily going airborne, a hand on you to keep you in place when his peds hit the roof of the brick building and he’s moving again. Carrying you to the abandoned warehouse he’d claimed as his own base of operations. Hating that he’s going to now blow that secret, too. Slipping in through the hole in the roof of the old structure, he grabs you and sets you on the crude berth he’d cobbled together from scavenged metal. The space fine for him, he can rest anywhere, but looking at your limp form, he’s realizing how inadequate the building is as a shelter. The floor strewn with litter and leaves that had blown in from the broken windows fronting the building before he’d blocked them for privacy. Needless to say the roof leaks and there’s no heat. Fine for him, but for you? No. It’s not like you’re staying. You’re gone as soon as you’re awake. No longer his problem.

• Cold, you curl into yourself and a faint muttering draws your head up. That’s right. Zippy. The wreck. Muzzily watching the blue bot pacing around the unfamiliar building you’re in, you shudder as his movements edge into an uncanny speed. Blurring almost nauseatingly. “Chill, Zippy. You’re making my headache worse.” Mouth dry, you slowly sit up and he stops pacing. But doesn’t stop moving, big hands shifting and servos flexing like he’s holding a conversation with himself in his head. Like he can’t be still. “Where are we?”

• “I thought maybe you’d died,” he mutters, ped sliding slightly as he shifts his weight and drifts to where you’re sitting up on his berth, head in your hands. “You just broke.” Remembering the unsettling way you’d just gone boneless and collapsed. You arch your brows at him as he shudders, grimacing. Hands lifting and falling away shy of touching you. Making himself back away as you watch him. Because handling you? Big mistake. Do humans imprint? What if he can’t get rid of you now? If he’s not alone?

• “Sorry to disappoint you, but humans are pretty hard to kill.” You say, knowing that compared to him, that’s a lie. You’re not metal, only soft flesh. Ridiculously easy to kill, but he sounds almost upset about you ‘breaking’ on him. Best you can figure, the adrenaline from the wreck crashed. Everything a bit fuzzy. Leaning out to realize you’re higher up than you want to try and jump down from, you look at him expectantly. “A little help, Zippy?” When he just stares at you, you sigh and hold out your arms like a toddler asking to be picked up. “If I jump, I might actually break.”

#transformers x reader #blurr x reader #tfa blurr

179 notes · View notes

random-fandoms-fanfics · 4 months ago

Text

KOBD Sparkling. Autobots

3500~ words

Transformers Terminology

I shifted to doing this in a reader insert style, I just enjoy writing this way

The glow was too beautiful to resist, your legs moving on their own, pulling you out of the building and towards the portal. You would think that by now the Autobots would automatically watch their footing to ensure they didn’t step on their human companions, but their eyes were up, focusing on each other and missing the human sized sparkling at their feet, your quiet beeping ignored as Bumblebee’s beepings masked it. Passing through the portal felt weird and was disorientating for such a little and young being, you found yourself stumbling as you came out of the portal, your soft pedes making your unsteady footstep undetectable to the bots that grouped together.

Once you had steadied yourself, you made your way between the legs of the giant robots, your yellow eyes gleaming up at them as they talked amongst themselves, completely unaware of the sparkling wandering beneath them. You were next to the legs of the large bot you were close to during the battle when your mind drifted to the other bot that was there, where was he, he seemed cool. With your mind distracted you didn’t notice that Bulkhead began to move, his leg lifting over your helm.

*squeak*

Everyone froze, Bulkhead nearly tipping over as he stopped his descending pede midstep, when he pulled his leg back he revealed the tiny white sparkling, who’s was slightly squashed, “Bulkhead!”

“I didn’t see them,” terrified of hurting the tinier being further Bulkhead tried to move away, his pedes barely lifting off the ground as he shuffled backwards, yet he failed to run as you chased after him, giggles bubbling from your throat. Before you could torment the big bot further, you were scooped off the ground in a swift motion, lifted high into the air by two servos, “hello little one,” turning to the voice you found two bright blue optics staring at you and the most gentle smile, “where did you come from?” Optimus brought you closer to his faceplate, his smile growing as your servos pressed against his mesh. “What is that?” Miko squealed as she stood on the railing trying to get a better look at you, bouncing when Optimus lowered his servos down, revealing you to the girl trying to control her squeals, “this is a sparkling, or in your words a baby,”

“Ooooo come here precious baby,” Miko held her arms out to you, her hands grabbing for you, lifting yourself up to your feet, you made your way to her, shaking as you walked over Optimus’ digits. When you made it to the edge of his servos, you didn’t really know what to do next, the ground wasn’t there, what were you meant to step on. “Come on, big step down,” Miko’s hands grabbed your servos and what was meant to be gentle encouragement turned into you losing the balance you barely had and tumbling off Optimus’ servos, slamming into the concrete.

You kinda just laid there, listening to the suddenly loud voices that were incomprehensible to you. After laying there for a minute or two you stood back up, finding yourself in front of the weird looking being who pulled you into the concrete. You found that not only did you stand just below her head, but she was also biting her lip to stifle the laughs from seeing your flat, elongated helm, “don’t worry, I can fix it,” Miko grabbed onto your faceplace, squishing the malleable metal back into shape, “oh, that worked,” Miko’s giggling came right back when you tried to squish her face back. Her face was different to Optimus’, instead of being the same type of material, you could feel she was squishy like you, but under that squishiness you could feel something solid, you could even feel the bristles on her face and you also nearly stuck your finger into her eye.

“Curious, sparklings are only that malleable right out the spark chamber, alright spill it which one of you were carrying them,” Ratchet’s digit pointed at everyone even at Optimus, as everyone began to deny carrying you, Miko turned from you and looked over them in confusion, “which one, wouldn’t it be Arcee?” Miko’s question silenced the bots, it was so absurd to them that it restarted their processors, “why me?”

“You’re a girl,”

…

“And?”

“Only girls can have babies, duh,” Ratchet groaned at the limitations of humanity and the lack of knowledge humans had about cybertronians, even though no one taught them, “any cybertronian can carry a sparkling, usually it’s the bot with the bigger spark chamber,” Arcee’s servos hooked under your arms, lifting you away from your spot and pulling you against her chassis, “see how big they are, a sparkling like this wouldn’t be able to grow in me,” Arcee showed that you were as long as her entire abdomen, being too big to fit in her, but you didn’t care about that, you were busy swinging your legs against Arcee’s abdomen. Feeling optics staring at you, you lifted your helm up to Arcee, the femme smirking at you, “you know, they look big enough to be a wrecker,”

“Don’t you try to put this on me, w-who would I even have a sparkling with,” Bulkhead's sudden voice startled you, causing you to almost jump out of her arms. Worried about you falling again, she placed you back down next to Miko and turned back to the arguing bots, quickly being drawn back into the argument about your creation.

“So, you wanna ditch while they’re distracted,” hearing Miko’s voice you turned to her, watching as she threw her hand over her shoulder, her thumb pointing out behind her. Looking her over you moved your body to match hers, your pedes even shifting to match the placement of her feet, Miko looked confused for a second before a smirk overtook her face, Miko raised her arms above her head and watched as you copied her, when she spun in a circle you spun in a circle. You watched as Miko lifted her foot off the ground, standing on one leg, of course you mimicked her and of course you struggled to balance, almost tipping over and slamming into the ground again.

Thankfully you were saved from this fate by two servos taking you away from your friend, “we don’t need them mimicking humans, let alone you,” while his words were incomprehensible to you, you understood the cruel tone of his voice that contrasted with how gently you were held against Ratchet’s chassis, it was so gentle you were able to lift yourself out of his grasp and stand on his shoulder, looking up at him you saw the points on his helm, and immediately felt the urge to grab them, “hey what’s wrong with me,”

“You knowingly put yourself in danger time and time again, a curious sparkling mimicking that type of behaviour will ensure it’s death,” Ratchet tried to look serious but there was a sparkling standing on his collar and pulling his brow closer to them. And that’s when you heard it, a rasp bubbling noise that came from the squishy being you were just with, turning to her you saw something between her lips as she made the noise, feeling the glossa in your intake you pushed it between you dermas, and when you pushed air through your intake, you made the noise. Everyone’s optics and eyes snapped to you, the closest pair staring in horror, “why are you even still here, shouldn’t you be home, shouldn’t you all be at your humans’ homes,”

“Why would I go home when there’s a baby, I got so much to teach them,”

“You will not be teaching them anything,” before Ratchet could go any further, Optimus pushed himself between Ratchet and Miko, “Ratchet is right, you must return home Miko and the three of you still have your duty to our human companions, Ratchet and I will ensure their safety until you return,” their chassis heaved as they begrudgingly agreed with Optimus. Oh the sudden attention you got was intoxicating, the digits that brushed over your helm, the servo that completely engulfed your helm, the cooing and beeping directed at you as they said their goodnights, Miko could only yell out her, “goodnight baby,” to you as Ratchet refused to let her near you again.

From your perch you watched as the three bots and Miko waved goodbye to you, and when they transformed, with Miko jumping into Bulkhead, and drove off, you stepped off of Ratchet’s shoulder trying to chase after them. Servos accidentally fighting against one another as they tried to catch you, just before you met the ground again Optimus’ servos latched around you, your small body slightly molding to the gaps between his digits, “I’m not sure if I should sparkling proof the base or wrap them in a protective covering,” Ratchet’s voice was shaking, he was starting to think you didn’t need Miko’s help to end your life, “both?”

“Both is good, I’ll set up a berth for them in your berthroom and get started on making this place safe,” after a quick stop in a storage room where Ratchet found a small box like berth, Optimus and Ratchet delved deeper into the silo, reaching the bare berthroom that belonged to Optimus, there was just a large berth that sat against the furthest wall and a computer hung against a wall. “Give me a second and I’ll set up their berth up,” while Ratchet began to attach the small box to the side of Optimus’ berth, said bot looked down at you with a face that was so warm and soft, “now remember sparklings need strict boundaries, no matter how much they cry do not let them recharge with you, or else they’ll never recharge alone,” even with how serious Ratchet made himself sound Optimus couldn’t help the snicker that escaped his dermas, he was a 9 million year old prime who was hardened by war and you were fresh out the spark chamber, what could you do to him, “Optimus!”

“Understood Ratchet, say goodnight young one,” Optimus turned you to Ratchet, his giant servo pinching your wrist and shaking her servo up and down at Ratchet as you babbled out some beeps, “goodnight sweet thing,” Ratchet gave Optimus one more stern look before he waved back to you and left you and Optimus to yourselves.

Optimus lowered you into the smaller berth, one of his servos lingering in the berth as a digit brushed over your cheek, “do not worry we’ll keep you safe,” three digits held you steady as he pushed you down onto your back, his servo hesitant to leave your tiny frame. Sticking your glossa out you blew a raspberry at him, and Optimus blew one back, a massive smile on his dermas and his chassis shaking as he laughed, when his servo left you, you chased after him, clinging to the edge of the berth as you tried to reach him. You shuffled around the edge of your berth, following Optimus as he climbed into his own berth, peaking over the wall you watched as he sunk into its soft material, his vents expelling gusts of hot air.

From his position Optimus could see your yellow optics peeking over the walls, staring at him, he couldn’t help the rumbling in his chassis, like the humans you were a needed break in the constant fighting between decepticons and autobots, a small source of joy, that would likely also cause them a bunch of stress.

Optimus struggled to ignore the pleading optics staring at him and the servos clawing at the berth as you tried to climb out, turning his helm from you he squeezed his optics shut in a desperate bid to ignore you, but his spark broke in half when he heard a shrill cry calling out for him.

Optimus’ servos suddenly wrapped around you and he held you over his helm, “I am glad you’re not a decepticon, your manipulation skills are unmatched,” he set you down in the space besides his helm, his optics watching you as you crawled closer to him, “please do not tell Ratchet about this, I do not need to hear a lecture,” because you didn’t know what he was saying and weren’t able to communicate, this deal was going to be easy to keep, so you buried yourself into the side of his head, one of your servos wrapping around the spike that sat on his audial as your optics closed, quickly sinking into deep recharge.

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

After that night Optimus realised the reality of his thought, you were in fact not a hardened cybertronian who understood the dangers of the world and the serious situation you were dumped into, you were a newly born sparkling whose only concerns were getting attention, obsessing over random things, eating when and what you wanted and recharging when you wanted. And with the bots still being in a war, the added pressure of caring for you wore them thin.

Their mesh was stained by the liquid energon you threw at them, everything in the silo now had a bite mark in it, because of this behaviour they had to become incredibly careful about not leaving live wires in your reach due to you biting into one once and becoming obsessed with trying to get at the electricity that ran through them. Optimus’, Ratchet’s and Arcee’s back struts and necks were in near constant pain due to how often you would grab the spikes on their helms if they got too close to you and just hold them in a bent position, and their pedes burned due to how often you escaped the silo and needed to be chased down before anyone saw you. They weren’t always successful as after your arrival a few rumours about a metal eating metal creature stalking the town started to pop up.

These escapes weren’t even Miko’s doing, you just did it by yourself, the worst instance of this was when it was just you and Ratchet in the silo, he had been watching you intensely all day, ignoring his duties to keep your attention with games and toys you couldn’t bite into, and the moment he turned away to open the groundbridge for the others, you were gone. Somehow making it to a nearby junkyard completely undetected and gorging yourself on scrap metal. The kids wouldn’t let Ratchet live his mistake down as after a sheet of metal that had bite marks in it was found in the raided scrapyard, the entire town now held a belief in the metaleater.

The only peace they got was when you were in Optimus’ berth, holding him in place as you recharged without any interruption. The only problem was when Optimus was needed for a mission, as he abandoned you in your berth and ignored your cries for him, so every time he abandoned you, you made sure to punish everyone, including the humans, the next day by biting them whenever they tried to touch you. Blood was weird, it tasted like metal but it made your insides twist in the wrong way. They really did try to get you to recharge by yourself, but having to listen to the constant anxiety-inducing screaming that filled the silo whenever they left you alone and your denta sinking into their mesh the next day made it a more than miserable task they just gave up on.

The autobots’ saving grace was June finding out about their existence as they finally had access to someone who was experienced in caring for such a young being. Their biggest concern were of course your grand escapes. June’s recommendation was to regularly take you outside, if you were so desperate to be outside why stop you. If you understood her you would agree with her, all you wanted to do was be outside, to feel the sun on your mesh, to dig in dirt, and enjoy the bath you got after, to see the creatures of this planet and to run without walls. The moment they began taking you outside the silo and letting you run off the excess energy you had, was when things became calmer. Now your escape attempts only occurred when Arcee, Bee and Bulkhead went to pick up the kids, which was easily fixed by Bee and Bulkhead taking you with them. Oh how you loved the car rides, sure you were able to see cars and other humans but the best part was when Bulkhead or Bee would make a detour to the highway and speed down it, the two mechs loving how you would squeal and whir as you were pushed into your seat.

With you having less energy to cause chaos, June’s other recommendation of creating a routine became a bit more feasible. You would wake up with Otpimus, have a bottle of energon, go out on a patrol that was ensured to be safe with two of the bots for an hour or two then be sent back to base to hang out with Ratchet, he would try to teach you things like speaking, but he found more success with just let you play with random items, like a box large enough to fit in, some building blocks, some of Jack’s old toys, he even let you play with the rocks you kept on bringing into the base. You would get a nice pile of scrap metal before one of the other bots returned, one of them taking you outside for a quick little run around so you would fall into a recharge without Optimus. You would always wake up when Arcee, Bulkhead and Bee were about to pick up the kids, chirping into the donated baby monitor until one of them came to get you from your berth.

The kids loved to care for you and give the bots a bit of a break, they would race you through the base, give you an unplugged controller when they played video games, they would bring you a bunch of paper and pencils so you could all draw together, and even though they couldn’t understand you, they would listen to your made up war stories, unknowingly cheering on the gruesome battles you created with your toys. Even though it was rare, Miko would take you outside, where she would encourage you to smash rocks and punch the canyon walls, she even let you listen to Slash Monkey after Ratchet forbade it due to it, corrupting you.

After an entire day of playing and adventuring, you got another bottle of energon, drinking away against the chassis of one of the bots, being gently rocked for what could be hours until you called out to Optimus. Said bot always avoiding the glare he got from Ratchet when he would pick you up and take you to his berthroom where he would always try to have you recharge in your berth but he always broke the moment he heard your little voice call to him.

There were still some issues, the main cause being how often missions would turn south and the bots having to abandon your routine, typically leaving you alone with a preoccupied Ratchet. They learned the consequences of this when Ratchet was late in opening the groundportal because he saw you had got ahold of an electrical cable. After that they set up a little enclosed area for you, it was full of toys, some of Jack’s old books, a few pieces of paper and pencils, a little pile of scrap metal and a bottle of energon, there was even a berth in it, and sometimes you would crawl into it and fall into a recharge.

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

As the days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, your rapid growth was very obvious, when you first arrived the top of your helm just reached Miko’s chin and now you were twice her height, and while you were thickening out evenly your chassis and shoulders were broadening out much more than the rest of your body, becoming more triangular in shape. During this time your armour formed, it wasn’t anything special, just a basic set, the most interesting part was the prominent crest with three tall prongs beginning to form on the top of your helm, as it allowed the bots to realise that your affiliation towards the spikes on their helms was likely due to at least one of your creators also having a prominent crest and you somehow remembering that basic shape. You were also no longer a uniform white, most of your plating shifted to a beautifully bright ultramarine blue, with a few orange accents lining your armour.

If only Knockout could see your colour, he would’ve loved the way his and Breakdown’s paintjobs combined to create such a beautiful blue.

He would have loved to hear your little voice. To hear your little beeps and whirrs slowly become words.

To have you on his shoulders as he worked, or to be his little assistance.

For him to be the one you recharged with.

For his neck and back struts to be in pain with how often you would grab the spike on his crest.

To chase after you through out the nemesis with Breakdown multiple times a day.

He would even love it if his mesh was the mesh stained by the energon you refused to consume.

But he couldn't love the little, or even the big things about you. How could he when Breakdown lost you.

#tfp kobd #tfp knockout #tfp breakdown #tfp #transformers sparklings #transformers #transformers x reader #kobd #tfp optimus prime #transformers prime #tfp ratchet

204 notes · View notes

til-all-are-loved · 4 months ago

Note

Hihii! Your IDW megatron makes my heart swoon (he's very well written, hehe) I'm wondering if you have HCs for G1 Megatron as well? Maybe with a human reader too

oops this became like a whole thing (do people even make oneshots anymore). also this became nsfw, if that's not what you wanted please shoot me another ask and i'll redo it <3

{Mascara Running Everywhere}

G1 Megatron x Reader One-Shot

NSFW, afab reader

rough sex | power dynamics | sex servant | 2110 words

You were just an average civilian, taking a walk down a public trail into the barren hills. Hiking seemed like a good idea—a chance to get outside, feel the sun on your skin, and maybe find some peace.

Wrong day for that. Very wrong.

The Decepticons were retreating when it happened. Out of nowhere, you were scooped up in the jaws of Ravage and whisked away to their headquarters. The world blurred past, and by the time the rushing air settled, you were unceremoniously dropped at Megatron’s feet.

For a long, harrowing moment, he simply stared down at you. Cold. Isolated. Frightened. Something flickered in those piercing red optics. Not pity—never pity. No, it was something darker. A desire to control, to dominate.

Your ordeal began soon after. They kept you in a cage—small, cramped, and situated in a high-traffic area like some grotesque display. The humiliation was endless. Decepticons would pass by, sneering, their optics glinting with amusement or disdain. Verbal jabs cut deep, their cruel laughter a constant reminder of your helplessness. You sat huddled, cold and shivering, alone in your prison. No signs of rescue. No one coming to help. By the second night, your sobs echoed through the metallic corridors.

At first, Megatron reveled in your despair. The sound pleased him, a testament to your broken will. But the noise soon became a distraction, grating against his patience. On the third night, he'd had enough.

The ground trembled under his heavy footsteps as he approached. You froze when his towering form loomed over the cage, his optics blazing down at you. He stared, silent and unreadable, before the lock clicked open. The door swung wide, and before you could even think to run, his massive servo descended.

His grip wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t gentle either. The cold metal pressed against your ribs and hips, reminding you how fragile you were in his grasp. Struggling felt pointless. Resignation set in—you would endure whatever was coming next.

He carried you briskly to another room, its dim light casting long shadows. With a calculated motion, he placed you on a dashboard. The surface was unyielding beneath you, and the room thrummed faintly with energy. Megatron pulled up a chair and sat heavily, the impact reverberating through the space. He leaned in, his red optics casting an ominous glow that painted you in shades of crimson.

Without a word, his massive digits reached out, pinching at your clothing and prodding at your face. The gestures were curious, deliberate, and invasive. You didn’t flinch. There was no point. His gaze bore into you. As you endured his explorations you were as well analyzing his expression. Irritation curled into fascination, a smile played at his lips and his cheeks rose in satisfaction. He likes what he sees.

You dared not flinch as a digit stroked your face, swiping underneath your eye.

"Hmmmm." A low rumble of interest purred out of him, vibrating through the air. "What could this be?" he murmured, his optics narrowing as he examined his fingertip.

In the dim light, you caught a glimpse of it—a dark smudge of mascara on the tip of his grey finger. Your lip quivered involuntarily, betraying your nerves.

"Be still, my sweet bird," he said, his tone deceptively gentle, though there was no mistaking the edge of command beneath it. "Your war paint is... fascinating. A pity you've made such a mess of it." He held the smudge up for another moment, as though pondering its significance, before dismissively wiping it off on the edge of the table.

"Clean yourself up, whelp," he ordered, his optics locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach churn. "And return to me only when you’ve made yourself beautiful again."

Before you could react, his massive servo enveloped you once more, plucking you from the table with an ease that reminded you just how insignificant you were in his grasp. The world blurred as he carried you off, his heavy steps resounding like distant cannon fire.

You were deposited abruptly onto the floor of another room, where a smaller figure waited. The one called Rumble stood there, arms full of towels, clothes, and various toiletries. His expression was unreadable, but he didn’t linger long.

"Uh—yeah, boss says to, uh, clean yourself up... and, uh, yeah," he mumbled, unceremoniously shoving the pile into your arms before scuttling away like a startled rodent. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you alone.

The wash racks were utilitarian and grim, but the cold saltwater that poured over you was a surprising comfort after everything you’d endured. You scrubbed yourself clean, the sharp chill biting at your skin and grounding you momentarily in the present. When you turned to the pile of supplies, you were stunned to find an array of surprisingly high-quality products—luxurious even. Brushes, palettes, and powders lay in perfect order, the kind of items someone might steal from a boutique rather than find in a warlord’s lair.

Still, you worked quickly, applying your makeup with practiced hands in the reflection of a small handheld mirror. When you were finished, you steeled yourself with a deep breath and stepped into the hallway.

You didn’t make it far. Megatron swept you up again with terrifying speed, the force of it leaving your head spinning and your heart pounding. His laughter boomed, a deep, resonant sound that chilled you to the core.

“Well, well,” he mused, his voice a twisted mixture of amusement and satisfaction. “Such a pretty little pet to entertain me.”

His grip tightened just enough to remind you of your fragility as he carried you back to his quarters. When he sat down, it was abrupt and deliberate, the vibrations from his weight settling into the chair reverberating through you. He placed you on his massive thigh so that your legs straddled him, The force made you lurch forward forcing yourself to catch yourself on your hands. Leaning in close, his optics flaring brightly in the dimness. The faint whir of his internal mechanisms filled the silence as he examined you sprawled out on top of you.

“This is where I will keep you,” he commanded softly, his massive frame looming like a storm.

It was wrong. So utterly, undeniably wrong. And yet, somehow, you grew to look forward to your days with him.

He made sure you were cared for—though in his own twisted way. Deliveries of stolen luxury poured in: designer clothes, glittering jewels, opulent bags crafted for someone with a life far removed from this metallic fortress. Week after week, the offerings grew.

He expected you to dress for him, to dazzle with beauty, and, most importantly, to entertain. On days when you failed to captivate him, his disappointment was evident. With a dismissive wave of his massive hand, you would be sent away to try again, to prove yourself worthy of his attention.

And so, you lived for those fleeting moments when his raspy, low voice would utter words of praise. It was intoxicating, his approval. You found yourself craving it. Wondering what more you might earn if you pleased him enough. Surely, you thought, even your own pleasure could one day be a possibility.

That day, you had dressed with meticulous care for what had become your grueling eight-hour "shift" of looking perfect. The black silk dress you chose clung to your body like a second skin, its elegance heightened by the glittering diamond-encrusted bangles on your wrists and the delicate silver necklace resting against your collarbone. Every detail was deliberate, calculated to ensure you looked flawless.

He wasted no time. in sweeping you up and you were placed on his lap like a prized possession.

And thus began your dance. You shifted forward, bracing your weight on your hands. Your knees squeezed tightly against the sides of his massive thighs, as a rider on a saddle. You arched your back dramatically. You turned your head, your eyes meeting his with a smolder.

If it was his attention you wanted, you had it entirely.

His expression betrayed him, a flicker of surprise mingled with excitement. You’d caught him off guard, your boldness sparking a reaction that even he hadn’t anticipated.

You reach back to pull your dress back, tightly sliding off to expose your ass.

This earned you a pantherine smile, and a firm tug on your ankle. Now your ass lined against his-- what would one call it? "Modesty panel"? You almost laughed to yourself. The implication that there could be something beneath lit your imagination on fire. You imagined yourself being stuffed with a large warm metal cock in a slew of indecent ways.

With some new inspiration, you grind your hips against his crotch. He didn't release a servo from your ankle, observing you desperately search for some friction to achieve relief. With his other servo he slipped his digits under your dress, playing with the feeling of the fabric and your hot skin. With no effort at all and a quick snap he tore the garment off your body.

In a swift motion you were flipped onto your back. You silently gasped at the sudden exposure.

"Such a fragile little thing," he rumbled, his optics burning into you. "Do you squirm like this for anyone else?"

With a servo around your back he lifted you to another that now supported your ass as well as keeping your legs parted. With a hard click his plating hit the floor followed by a soft hiss. You watched his spike pressurize against your pussy.

You squirmed against him observing this alien dick. It was already covered in a thin slick lubricant, warm and pulsating. Small red lights trailed down the underside and some between paneling in the mesh. You lowered yourself excruciatingly slowly past the tip. You guessed that it was about 18 inches in length, an intimidating girth as well. It took almost a minute of bobbing up and down to stuff half of it up your pussy.

Megatron sighed and moved into a languid position. His other servo found its way to your back again and provided firm support to guide you up and down. A fierce roar of his internal fans was all the assurance that you were thrilling him. That and the frequent low staticky sighs he made while fucking you.

"Cry for me" He ordered. "Sing for me, human"

His demand was enforced with a thrust from his hips and a rapid increase in pace, earning him a wail from you. Your swollen cunt made hideous wet slapping noises off his body. The sensation your entire pussy being stretched while being mechanically railed sent waves of pleasure through you. Every movement built the intensity higher and higher. Your skin and core burned hot, the fire rising inside you. With a gasp and cry your body shuddered and you climaxed at last, your fluids dribbling down his spike.

His relentless pace did not let up as he continued fucking you through the orgasm before his spike pulsed and throbbed inside you. The sensation of incredibly hot cum filled your already sore pussy. Already filled to the limit the pink fluid dribbled out of you.

His body slumped further into the chair and he let out a crackling groan. His hands softened their grip on you and you took a deep breath, you hadn't realized how firmly you were being held until you were free.

His head tilted back, optics dimming slightly as a rare moment of quiet overtook him. “Hmph,” he muttered, his voice low and rasping. “You endure well… for a creature so small.”

You slid to the floor and gathered yourself. Your body trembled with exhaustion and something unnamable. He didn’t stop you, his optics dim and unreadable as you picked up the tattered remains of your dress.

“Go,” he commanded, his voice a deep rumble, quieter now but no less commanding. “Return to your chambers... and prepare yourself. You’ll be summoned again soon.”

You didn’t look back as you stepped out of the room, the echo of his words and the lingering weight of his touch still heavy on your skin. The metallic halls stretched ahead, cold and unfeeling, a stark contrast to the heat that still clung to you. You clutched the fabric tighter to your chest and walked on, your mind spinning, knowing that tonight would not be the last time you would entertain him.

The door slid shut behind you with a hiss, sealing away the towering warlord and the line you had crossed.

#transformers x reader #megatron x reader #g1 transformers #g1 transformers fanfiction #tf fanfic #oneshot #x reader #transformers oneshot x reader #megatron oneshot #drabble #long #megatron #g1 megatron #til all are loved

86 notes · View notes

t1188 · 3 months ago

Text

VFD and Two-Axes Plotter Training Kit Manufacturer in Pune India.

Discover Hytech Didactic, manufacturer of VFD and Plotter Training Kit with interpolated motion control in Pune. Perfect for VFD training kits, two-axes plotter training kits, and servo interpolation training.

#VFD Training Kit Pune #Manufacturer of VFD Training Kit in pune #Exporter of VFD Training Kit in pune #Punetwo-axes plotter training kit Pune #plotter training kit Pune #VFD and Plotter Training Kit Pune #servo interpolation training Pune #interpolated motion control training Pune #motion control training kit Pune #advanced plotter training kits Pune

0 notes

wolf-among-mechs · 1 month ago

Text

WLF-Xb-KNT Wolf Knight

Description:

The WLF-Xb-KNT Wolf Knight is highly specialised one of a kind mech made from primarily the chassis of a Black Knight and a number of parts from a Battlemaster. Made to the whims of a mechwarrior with a strange idea with some mechtech experience, the Wolf Knight was constructed allegedly from a dream, that was then committed to paper, explored and executed. Its primary purpose is to be an upgraded Black Knight with heavier armour, jump jets and extensive re-engineering of the Black Knights interior and sensor suite. The interior was remade to fit a powerful Extra-Light engine. The chassis and frame was remodeled extensively and changing to a more common frame model of pieces of changed BL-7-KNT Black Knight pieces and that of a BLR-1G Battlemaster. Despite its Frankenmech design, the focus on off the shelf parts allows the Wolf Knight an ease of access for repairs and maintenance to a surprising degree despite the heavy modifications. The most taxing parts are its dual Myomer and servo system and the cockpit to sensor connections. The refit process documented the notes of these two extensively but nevertheless requires a very qualified engineer to repair and maintain. It makes extensive use of Triple Strength Myomers that run through the mech coupled with finely and highly tuned actuators, calibrated after the pilot's movements, the Wolf Knight can swing the great blade's motions in its hand with tilts, flicks and even whips in its attacks. This is made possible with a secondary Myomer system that works on tandem with the more powerful one, giving increased agility and precision. Lastly this secondary Myomer system is backed up and tied into an integrated hydraulic servo system with the fibres themselves attached to limit switches for a natural pullback and resistance. The practical nature or battlefield application was contentious even by the refitting engineers but it was found difficult to argue against the one placing the order. One of its most curious features and the namesake is the re-engieering of the sensor suite of the Black Knight. It uses similar principles as the originals Beagle Active Probe system which uses the small laser to scan. Instead it has a second sensor tower, giving it two "ears" on the Knight helmet. Together with the pilot harness this is called the High Oscilation Wave-Length system or H.O.W.L. for short. It functions by generating pulses and frequencies through the heart rate monitor and neurohelmet's brain wave readings. Which in turn create an algorithm that is impossible to predict or even anticipate for a computer. This forms the basis of the skip-frequencies used in the sensor system in its pulses. The effect shifts the Mech's position by one to two meters between pulses on hostile sensors, slightly distorting the Wolf-Knight position, velocity and direction. Even skilled combatants can be caught unaware of their mech suddenly shifting the targeting to compensate. Leading to glancing shots. However the H.O.W.L. system distorts command and control communication over long distance, forcing it rely on short wave range bands. For this reason, it is usually only active during active combat operations in order to allow for strategic coordination. This, along with the precise movements of the arms is achieved by a specially made cockpit. Rather than the usual joystick configuration, the mechwarrior wears a harness that can mimic arm movements of the pilot. In addition it keeps track of the pilot's vitals and uses these together with the helmet to modify the frequencies of of the sensor suite and probe. The harness is heavy to move and is is wholly integrated with the neurohelmet and cockpit at large and tailored for a single individual and does not interact well with ejections.

Armament:

The Wolf Knight wields a large sword in the right, though functionally is follows the design principles of Fedcom-era hatchets. Otherwise the loadout is very similar to that of a Black Knight. A Lord's Light 2 rather than the royal versions' Kinslaughter ERPPC in the left arm allows for long range sniping with an original Maxell DT medium laser mounted under the main cannon. It is supported by two Magna Mk III large lasers as shoulder cannons along with parts of the housing used for a Rifleman. Instead of the the original torso mounted McCorkel mounted in order to make space for the new internal systems. Using parts and housing from a a Catapult on each side of the torso is a pair of Martell Medium Lasers and Omnicron 1000 Small lasers. Allowing the Wolf Knight to brawl with to a similar degree as a standard Black Knight.

Sixteen Double heat sinks allows the Wolf Knight to remain at range and fight without significant overheating. Once it gets close and pounces with the shorter range lasers it can easily activate the full potential of the Triple Strength Myomer system.

Inside the chest of the Wolf Knight however remains the Beagle Active Probe from which the black knight was noted for carrying. It has been wired to a Ceres Metals model 666 Communication system that connects into the Beagle Active Probe together with the original TransComm Beta targeting system.

The engine is connect to a RedLine-F Series Outland Supercharger system that allows the Wolf Knight to pounce on targets with the blade. Four Chillton model 600 Jump jets give it an extra level of mobility. However the XL is a weak point in long engagements where endurance becomes the dominating factor as a single torso side being blown apart would stall the engine.

Made in blender by kitbashing a number of things together.

#battletech #mechwarrior #custom mech posting #Very light frankenmeching

26 notes · View notes

pddparthi · 1 year ago

Text

Unlocking Precision and Power: A Guide to Hydraulic Servo Actuators

Introduction: In the realm of automation and motion control, hydraulic servo actuators reign supreme for their unmatched blend of raw power and exceptional precision. These marvels of engineering combine the potent force of hydraulics with the meticulous control of electronic systems. This comprehensive guide delves into the world of hydraulic servo actuators, exploring their inner workings,…

View On WordPress

#Electrohydraulic Actuators #Feedback Mechanisms #Flight Control Systems #High Force Applications #Hydraulic servo actuators #Industrial automation #Linear Actuators #Motion Control Systems #Proportional Valves #Robotics #Rotary Actuators

0 notes

anony-man · 6 months ago

Text

Chubformers drabble #110!

Characters: Megatron & Soundwave (TFP)

Word count: 1.3k

They had done this before. They had done this a good few times, if not several few times, over the course of their time on the Nemesis. It was like clockwork, especially now that Megatron was struggling to recover from his near-fatal wounds.

It was nothing new for him, even if it had been some time since their last session. Why was he so nervous then?

He knew what to expect, and he knew what would come. Soundwave was critical of every little detail, even going so far as to inspect the quality of the energon filling the tubes before he dared to let it go anywhere near Megatron’s frame. He was careful, almost to the point of being too careful, and he knew what he was doing. They knew what they were doing. They did.

Megatron’s spark ached as it throbbed in his chest, his rapid pulse nearly too much for him to bear. The coiling tendrils of his third in command snaked beneath his back plating and circled around his waist before slowly constricting against him. It was soothing, grounding, and Megatron couldn’t help but relax into the touch.

Soundwave was by his side, busy flipping switches and securing the tubes to their fuel pump. Every so often he lifted his helm, the blank screen of his visor flashing with waves of radio static as he searched his databanks for the words to say. Studying Megatron’s face alone told him all he needed to know about his master’s hesitation, but the best way he could ease the mech’s nerves was to take matters into his own servos and get started.

The Decepticon leader was stiff under his touch. Twitches and tremors occasionally accompanied the shudder of his frame as he struggled to relax, and Soundwave did what he could to encourage the process along. The coil of his limbs dug gently into the rolls of Megatron’s fat, and the attempt at soothing his fears seemed promising.

Now, they just had to begin.

It was never pleasant to force Megatron to refuel when he was still so nervous, but if his decline in health over the weeks of recovering was anything to go off of, Soundwave no longer had much of a choice. He couldn’t stand by any longer and watch as his leader suffered the painful ups and downs. He was taking the lead now, whether Megatron liked it or not.

All it took was starting up the pump and gathering the open ends of the tubes for Megatron to begin squirming in his grasp, but Soundwave didn’t hesitate. He turned to his leader and held up one of the tubes, his slender fingers curling around the rim and covering the opening.

“…just relax, commander~”

Knock Out’s words were a garbled mess of static and warped tones, but it did the job for him.

With slow movements and steady servos, Soundwave reached out and grabbed Megatron’s chin. His fingers rested against quivering lips and stroked over the cold metal of scarred faceplates as he slotted the tube’s opening into his leader’s mouth. The plastic glided easily over his saliva-slicked tongue, to Soundwave’s relief, and Megatron gave no sound or motion of protest as the tube was pushed deeper and deeper and deeper.

This was nothing new for them, Megatron. They had done it many times before, and they’d do it several times again. If only he could tell him with words, and assure him that all would be well in the end.

The first tube was always the easiest, which is why Soundwave loved soothing his leader before moving to the second. With the first tube, Megatron could see him. He could see him approach, and he could feel him. He could feel those fingers against his face, and he could feel the constricting pressure of those tendrils around his waist, and he could watch as the tube was slotted between his lips and gently pushed down his throat.

He was never in control, but with the first tube, he could pretend to be. The second tube, however, was a different story.

Megatron’s belly was already beginning to swell from the steady flow of energon. The thin coils stayed tight around his middle, but as the pump flowed, the limp rolls of fat started to swell. Once the second tube was inserted, Soundwave would release him. Of course by then, he was sure to have been filled far beyond his limits.

Kept in close proximity by the length of Soundwave’s extended limbs, there was only so far the bot could go. He made it to the end of the table with ease, however, having had kept close to Megatron’s side with every step.

Between trembling, spread thighs, Megatron’s valve was already dripping with lubricants. Soundwave took his time in cherishing the sight, his own sealed array warming at the mere thought of giving his leader the attention he seemed to crave. First things first, however. He was here to make sure the job was done right, and that Megatron walked away well-fueled.

Soundwave traced the tips of his fingers over the rim of that slick valve in slow circles, indulging himself with the shudder of his leader’s frame beneath his touch. It only took a few strokes of a digit over the node atop Megatron’s array before he was gushing again, the mess of sticky fluids pooling on the table beneath him.

Ready enough, then. Soundwave supposed he would have to continue their foreplay later on.

The plastic tubing was rough and wide, making it difficult to slot it inside when Megatron hadn’t been wholly prepared beforehand. Soundwave didn’t dare waste any more time on his own fascination, despite the temptation he felt, and instead got to work on gently sliding his fingers inside and working the walls of his leader’s valve open.

The more prep he did, the easier it would be to insert the tube, and the fuller Megatron would become by the time their pump ran out. It was foolproof, and a process they had grown accustomed to over the past eons together. Granted, having disappeared for years on end only to come back looking as though he were one step away from off-lining wasn’t the way Soundwave had imagined them getting back into the practice, but his leader needed the extra help in building back his strength, and this was the best way he knew how to do so.

When he felt Megatron’s valve clenching around the intruding digits, Soundwave gently slid free. He was quick to replace his fingers with the head of the tube, and around the arch of his leader’s back and the sounds of utter pleasure that echoed through the tube running down his throat, he slid it inside.

A perfect fit, it was. The tendrils around Megatron’s belly relaxed and recoiled, leaving the mass of stuffed tanks to fill out the previously flabby fat that hung from his frame. He was about filled to his limits already, and Soundwave had only just gotten the second tube into place.

Satisfied, the third in command slunk back to Megatron’s side and got to work tracing his servos over the span of his leader’s rapidly swelling belly. It was a sight he had missed, and one they were long overdue for. There would be no more small bouts of refueling from now on, that was for sure.

From here on out, Soundwave was going to make sure Megatron’s frame stayed as full as it possibly could. It was his duty as the third in command, after all. And besides… he quite liked the sight. There was no room for fear or pain when he was in charge, and as Megatron’s belly filled, he could see the realization was finally starting to settle in behind the blissful expression on his face.

He was in charge now. Finally, Megatron could relax.

#chubformers #tfp megatron #tfp soundwave #valveplug #liquid inflation #anon man writes #tfp megasound

37 notes · View notes