#transformers babes

[raphaelsredtwin]

Made Cosmos bc he deserves more love :3 tiz a gift for @holographic-mars (go check out their blog it's epic and amazing and AGHHH)

Anywho! Cosmos is annoyingly difficult to draw and I field lied to bc wtf???

I was gonna make him eating rice cakes, but gave up-;so now he floats in space

[nira-mirror]

Bean cleaning

[chrissy-kaos]

Come on loser are you joining me or not?

[starheavenly]

Locket's first night on the LL. (They end up not being able to find their room and they pass out in the hallway)

[robolvrr]

silk baby ✧⁠*°•

idw prowl x gn! human reader

nsfw. tags: lingerie, hatesex, petplay (wink), humiliation kink. let's get kinky.

you infuriate him.

it's almost insulting. the uniform your kind has given you, the shiny, golden lapels and glittering badge. you've served no war, fought no battles and have a fraction, no, a blink of his lifetimes experience in diplomacy.

when he first heard of your transfer from optimus himself he scoffed audibly.

files upon files were downloaded and analyzed of you immediately.

you're young. all of your people compared to cybertronians are. but you're still fresh-faced, no scars of time and still speak in those sweet, hopeful hums that makes his spark crackle.

he decides that reaction is hate.

and he shouldn't be feeling it, shouldn't be questioning his alliance and the brand on his chassis when he thinks about how easy this entire miserable planet could be wiped from the plane of existence.

somehow, humanity has managed to cause so many problems that not even his processors and planning can delegate the stress of having to pretend he was anything but superior to the generals, captains and presidents that adored to speak to them as if they were subordinate.

when you first meet prowl, you think, he must despise you. his frown on his angular features is stubborn and unmoving. he speaks to you like you're inconvenient.

"this is all wrong."

"do you even check your notes?"

"i am shocked to see just why they chose you for this role."

"don't bother me again until you find your voice. stop stuttering like a fool. you're an advisor, are you not?"

he's cruel. you're unable to find a response as he always slinks away, before you can seek a fellow autobot to properly report him.

sometimes, you can see the smirk in that disapproving gaze.

you do what most humans do. try to adapt. try to appeal. he likes to think in his spare time of you as a slobbering dog, trailing his pedes on all fours. drooling for even an opportunity of companionship.

you, on the floor. crawling. that's a bitterly tasty thought, indeed.

the rejected sentiments are visibly breaking you, slowly over time. starts with you trying to relieve his load in reports. attending his meetings, even though you're not required. he even heard you trying to argue with your own command, in some hopes they'd lessen their restraints on their current agreements with the extraterrestrials.

it's laughable. did he ask for any of this? no. you still do it.

dog. filthy, needy, pretty dog.

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

you're frustrated.

you have so much pressure on you, all the time. all the poli-sci courses and straight a's don't compare or prepare for being the middle man between the united states and co governmental bigheads and literal, walking cars.

and jets. and motorcycles, you learn.

you should be out at parties. kissing boys and girls and someone you don't remember, crying about tests and complaining to your friends about the shitty sink and your shitty landlord.

instead you get this opportunity shoved in your lap.

to be taken seriously, you pin yourself in sleek hairstyles and make sure your appearance is flawless. your boots are polished. you smell like fresh laundry and evergreen.

most of the autobots have taken a liking to you, or at least listen to your points. most have gotten the common sense having lived on earth for as long as they had to not purposefully offend.

prowl? oh no. no, he made a point to make sure you felt belittled.

why does his opinion mean so much to you? is it because his tone is always cold? is it because you feel metaphorically and literally pinned under his gaze, some twitching fly beneath his precise needle?

he knows each and every weak spot in that barely nurtured ego of yours to jab.

you lie to yourself. lie that it makes you stronger. laugh like he's just jealous.

your sheets are sweaty. his voice is level, that you remember.

his hands. servos. so articulate.

you should feel sick when your own weasels from between your thighs.

you should feel ill for thinking of him when you see the slick wetness dripping down your forearm.

would he tell you you did a good job?

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

the teapot in the shared downtime area whistles.

you're drowsy. caffeine does little to put any pep to your step so you resort to accepting your fate, hoping to bullshit your way through your rotation and worry about the repercussions later. today was boring. that was the issue - you're drained and understimulated.

not long enough it seems.

"slacking off, mm?"

a visible shake flirts up along your spine. the look you give over your shoulder is barely short of disrespectful.

"there is nothing else of importance for me to do. why would this room exist if not to relax between shifts?"

prowl towers. the doorways are higher, larger, to accommodate for humanity's new, glossy allies. you ignore the way his optics narrow. like he's studying you. like you've already fucked up.

"sounds more like failed excuses to me, diplomat. though.."

he's close. too close. uncanny valley crawls in your stomach as you struggle to forget nights ago. the dusting of his metal plates pattern similar to freckles.

that'd be cute if he wasn't awful.

".. mm, yes. you humans are so delusional. it's admirable, truly. patting yourself on your backs but too lazy to put in the effort to earn anything."

now it's your turn to frown.

"you're wrong. i work my ass off-"

"tsk, tsk, language."

"oh, fuck off!"

the tea kettle steams loud. and then it's jostled off the burner and you're scrambling, a scream caught in your throat.

cybertronians are strong. beasts, truly. they come in all shapes, sizes and talents but one thing is clear - they're living, breathing metal. there is little that can actually harm them.

prowl has your chin snatched between his digits. his helm is close and he has no need to breathe, but his ex-vents are sharp and his voice is still deliciously icy.

"see? animals, all of you. mutt. you bark and whine and complain. and i was supposed to take you seriously?"

your work shirt has lifted up your midriff. you ignore the throbbing at your core.

either he knows or he doesn't care, though it's prowl and it's rare he's in the dark.

there is no imagining how his vocals dip.

"predictable."

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

prowl finds fabric to be gaudy.

a prized trade elsewhere is commodity down here. he is much more trained on revealing what lays under that tight, useless suit of yours.

he doesn't bother answering any of your questions, only responding by yanking you by the back of your hair and letting his dentae sink into the flesh of your neck until it bruised.

he's rough. he knows you cannot take it, so when you're crying out to a god he doesn't know, his smile finally starts to edge his otherwise stern expression.

"good."

there's a snarl of disgust and despair when he gets all the buttons loose.

you are a spike tease.

underneath the bravado is the coverings of a slut.

it's gorgeous. soft, genuine silk. the straps are thin and bows dangle at the connections to heart-shaped lace that barely covers your chest. there's frill.

he tears a thread and unweaves it, just as he does with you.

your panties are yanked down your legs. they leave a red mark with how roughly he deposits them ..

for future observation.

his grip wrenches your hips, until a hole is found and he's jamming in and you're mewling, panting, huffing for him.

the "i hate you"s and "you're terrible"s just piston his pace faster.

his audials resort to memory banks that store all the pitiful expressions you make. he gets you on your hands and knees after all and when he's clutching your throat between sloppy thrusts, his grin is sharp and horrid.

"bark, puppy."

robolvrr 2024.

[bettybabys-blog]

Send me a Private message let's have a sweet and naughty conversation,am trans💕☺️

[soundwave-superior-botposting]

(IDW The Transformers: Monstrosity #9)

[carriejenkinsstar]

How I'd look at you if you were my phone. 🤳🏽

[leahenrysworld]

If you don’t rub my booty I will cease to exist💦😩

[melissaporsches]

Are natural curves welcomed here?😅💕

[littlecib12]

Hi guys ❤️💜

[yasbeych]

the scavs… they r my everything..

[chrissy-kaos]

Imagine if you were my boyfriend walking in on me watching hockey like this 🥵.. also I heard it was thick thigh Thursday 😜

[cybertron-smash-or-pass]

[transprinces]

What are you doing for the week

Send me a dm for a little section baby 🥵❤️🥰

Reblog for love baby ❤️🥰

[bettybabys-blog]

Send me a private message,let's have some naughty and sweet conversations,am Trans,you can dm on telegram @riyal8