#where the datapad go?

[eobe]

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Lazy day! I really tried to relax and I had so much fun drawing this one based on the awesome ‚Loathsome coworkers‘ comic – credits to @chiliger 🤩 Thank you so much for your friendly permission and I hope you like my appreciation artwork inspired by your work 🙏🏼

I laughed so hard and it absolutely made my day, when I saw the original comic and I wanted so badly celebrate the up-kricked Commander Cody and the flat lazy day Vader✨

It absolutely hit my sense of humor and also my nerve, because it‘s sooo hard for me to relax, to let go of my insecurities and trust in my wrist to draw dynamic lines speedy, easy and free handed. I absolutely need to get more confident, but if I try, I often got the same problem like Cody – I just cramp even more 😂

So, what do you think about it? Let me know!

…

Edit: Here‘s my explanation / interpretation of what‘s happening on request: It’s drawing style humor 😄 On a lazy day an artist would just speed sketchy lines on the paper without big effort.

Vader is powerful enough to indulge himself in a lazy day (and so in its style), but imperial Commander Cody is too tense and his trial to relax failed miserably, so he got even more detailed drawn with more effort, shading, shaping and bling 😄

But there is also a crux in lazy looking sketches: If the lines aren’t proper on the first try it doesn’t get well or looses it’s dynamics.

So often the reduced drawing is the one from the most sure hand ✨ (and I‘m still drawing Padawan 🙈)

[chiliger]

The meta implications in this one are wild.

[captainseamech]

Jazz music adruptly stops.

[esperderek]

I have to have a chuckle at the Screenrant article posted recently about the Galactic Starcruiser, which totally wasn't about Jenny Nicholson's video honest.

In part, because early in Nicholson's video, she talks about how unnatural it is to have your influencers speak in adcopy and copyright rather than the more colloquial nicknames, and how it makes the people speaking about the product seem very insincere and, well, paid off. Because normal humans don't speak that way, but advertising does.

What's the first two lines in this article?

"As a life-long fan of Star Wars, there was nothing quite as exciting as finding out that I would be working on the immersive Star Wars: Galactic Starcruiser experience. Located at the Walt Disney World Resort, the Galactic Starcruiser opened on March 1, 2022, and welcomed passengers to board a two-day, two-night cruise through the stars, during which they could live out their own Star Wars adventure."

No one talks like this naturally. No one writes like this naturally.

This is supposed to be your passioned defense of the place you worked at, the people you worked with, and the memories you made along the way. C'mon! Why don't you open with a story, perhaps an anecdote about the best moment you had working there, or the devastation of the day you lost your dream job. We need to feel your humanity! But there's nothing of that here, to the point where you can just hear the TM behind Galactic Starcruiser.

The first half of this article continues in this vein, reading like a press release Disney marketing put out, just with past tense rather than present or future tense:

"Essentially, the Starcruiser experience was a 48-hour movie that passengers were actually a part of. It was all facilitated through the "datapad," which was accessed through the Play Disney Parks app."

"To facilitate the overarching immersive experience and storytelling, the Starcruiser built a jam-packed itinerary for each and every guest that would consist of a variety of important activities: the captain's toast at muster, a bridge training exercise, lightsaber training, and more. These types of events were essential to understanding what was happening, as they would give passengers the chance to interact with characters and build their story. This is why the Starcruiser could never be just a hotel; every part of it was designed for enthusiastic interaction."

Like, c'mon. I used to work in television. I've seen and used adcopy in my former job, and this is some serious adcopy. It honestly wouldn't shock me if the author dredged up some old adcopy they had lying around about the topic and just transferred it over, changing the tense. You're not here to sell us this product, because there is no product to sell. It's gone, it's been gone for a year, you don't have to sell us on IT. Speak about your experiences.

The next part is yet another topic that Jenny Nicholson pointed out, the bad faith excuses that influencers and advertisers made for the extreme price point:

"What many people don't know, however, is that the price included much more than just a room. The passengers' food, park tickets, recreation activities on board, non-alcoholic drinks, and more were all included - with merchandise being one of the few additional costs on board."

Which is absolute bad faith reasoning, especially when there are plenty of other vacation options that are ALSO all-inclusive, but are MUCH cheaper and offer MORE amenities than the Galactic Starcruiser did! Including Disney Cruises, owned by the same company! Seriously, you can go on a halfway decent sounding cruise or all-inclusive resort somewhere warm for, like, a week or two and spend far less than GSC cost.

Then the last part is essentially: "All the workers liked working there and the bad reviews afterwards make the workers who worked on it feel sad. :("

Which, like, companies have been hiding behind that reasoning for ages. Curiously, the author never offers....any reasons or stories. WHY did working on it impact you so much? What set it apart, what were the people like, what did you like about working there, why are you so passionate about it even a year later? There's nothing, just a generic sort of "We worked hard." and "We're sad it's gone." Why? How? What happened? The video you're obviously writing this in response to is filled with personal anecdotes and stories, it's the backbone of the video! Again, you need to give us something to show your humanity!

Especially when you consider that Nicholson repeatedly points out that the only highlight about her experience, the only thing that kept the damn thing going was the workers.

She had nothing but praise for them, and nothing but contempt for the higher ups who wasted and abused that enthusiasm, to the point where one of her last points was "Hey, Disney is basically exploiting labor."

Much like Jenny, I'm also not condemning anyone who had a good time working there. Good! If you were having a good time at work, that's great. If you have good memories about the people, awesome. But I'll note two things:

a) That doesn't meant you weren't being exploited, and

b) That doesn't mean you have to be a useful idiot for the corporation you worked for afterwards.

I'm not conspiracy brained enough to go "Oh, Disney TOTALLY forced this article into being.", because a cursory examination of the author's prior works and such suggests a lifelong passion for Star Wars, she did work at the hotel, and she's a Star Wars Editor (whatever THAT means in this day and age) for Screen Rant. Apparently one of the heads of Screen Rant says that Disney had no hand in it either.

Though, I can see why people would think that way. It READS like a press release, not something a normal human being would write about an experience they feel passionate about.

[imaroyalmess]

An Apprentice’s (Unofficial) Guide to House Garments

based on @energ00n 's apprentice AU! (i'm obsessed with the concept of apprentices making up garment rules)

Wc: 2.1k

The datapad—an older model with discolored spots, showing where servos touched its framing—is the first thing Orion Pax’s optics land on as he walks into his new room. Orion snatches the datapad and tilts his helm as he reads the title over again. A peek at the contents shows that it begins with Hey newbie followed by three exclamation glyphs (an overabundance of any glyph, if you asked Orion).

Orion glances up and catches his own gaze in a mirror hanging in front of him. It’s strange, seeing two sheer fabric pieces delicately flowing over the hard metal of his arms—he’s hesitant to move his arm joints in fear of tearing it. That, as well as the jewelry occupying the space where his cog would be creates a vision that’ll take some getting used to.

He pries his optics away and down to the datapad again, dermas pinching as his processor whirrs. Prima explained to him how to care for his garment personally and what if, since the datapad looks old, the data was outdated? No, safer to follow Prima’s instructions and not confuse himself.

Orion places the datapad to the side and sets off to explore his new home.

~

Hello newbie!!!

Congratulations to you and your new position! There’s so much you need to know before you get started. If you wanna make friends, then you’ll wanna keep reading, little mech!

It’s most important that you know about your House garment. No, no, not how to wash oil stains out of it (though that’s good to know!), I’m talking about the meaning behind what you do with it.

Lucky for you, I’ve compiled a list for your easy reference! Learn them well, little mech!!

DO: Wear your House garment at all times! I’ve been told it’s respectful to the Primes. Also helpful so we can tell each other apart. Usually only an apprentice’s special somebot sees them without it! Even then, maybe not.

~

D-16 has always been a stickler for the rules. It’s structure—it’s security. He can’t afford to slip up and never lets that resolve waver. So how exactly did he let pretty blue optics lure him into a cargo hold that supposedly has a passage leading into the (highly forbidden) archives? D-16 isn’t sure.

“Orion Pax,” D-16 hisses, “you idiot, there’s no way—”

Orion hushes him with a digit to his dermas and a wink. D-16 lowers his voice. “Why did you drag me into this?”

Orion pries the cover away from the passage and lowers it to the ground, a soft clank echoing. “I need you to keep watch for me, ‘kay? It’s a tight squeeze for me so you definitely wouldn’t fit.”

D-16 frowns, a retort fully prepped in his processor, but then Orion unclips his garment and D-16’s vocalizer short circuits. For a horrifying and long nanoklik, only static emits from his voice box. “Wh–Pax, what are you doing?!”

“I told you.” Orion rolls his optics. “Barely enough room in there and I can’t risk ripping my clothes up. Prima would offline me.”

He slips the sheer fabric over his helm and presents it to D-16 with splayed servos. Primus, help him. It takes D-16 exactly 1.46 kliks to reboot and shake his helm vehemently. “No? I…you want me to—”

“It’s just my garment,” Orion states, playful but also firm in a way that says I don’t have time to argue. “I’m not asking you to do anything else. Keep it safe?”

Just my garment. If Orion’s antics don’t get him expelled, his cluelessness would. However, he’s correct about one thing, and it’s that their time is running out.

D-16 half-snatches half-cradles the garment, careful not to let the ends touch the ground. With a deep intake D-16 says, “Go. Before they spot us.”

Orion grins, scrambling his way through the crawl space, leaving D-16 to listen for passing mechs. The fabric feels smooth between his digits.

~

DON’T: touch another apprentice’s attire, especially(!) without their permission. A passing touch may be an accident but deliberately grabbing is almost like a kiss!!! Don’t kiss or put your dermas on their clothing either. That has…intimate implications I won’t discuss here.

~

Orion loves watching Megatronus Prime spar with D-16. The size difference between the two could be laughable, if it weren’t for the ferocity that overtakes D-16’s faceplate and the corrections Megatronus throws out to him. Multiple times, Orion’s systems remind him to function as he watches—his friend is a vision under his Prime’s tutelage, all gritted denta, radiating optics, and arcing gauntlets.

Once satisfied, the looming Prime kneels before his apprentice and speaks lowly to him. Orion’s audials are unable to pick up what’s said but the open and hungry way D-16 receives his feedback sates him. Megatronus returns to his full height, nods to release D-16 from his training for the day and Orion perks up at the gesture.

“D!” Orion calls. His friend pads over to what’s becoming Orion’s usual spot, a barely-there smile on his dermas.

“You been waiting long?” D-16 asks, setting his practice spear against the wall.

Orion shakes his helm. A white lie—he’s been there longer than he should’ve but it’s not his fault that watching D-16 fight is so fascinating. “What were you learning today?”

D-16 dutifully launches into the intricacies of battle strategy and close-ranged combat. Orion props his helm up with his loose fist as he listens—mostly listens, at least. That task becomes difficult as the jargon grows thick and D-16’s broad servos capture Orion’s attention as they move in small motions.

An idea pops into his processor. “Why don’t you show me?”

A pause, then D-16 scoops up his practice spear, muttering, “It’ll look stupid without an opponent.”

Orion hops over the half-wall that’s been separating them and bounces over to stand in front of his friend. “I’m right here though.”

“No,” D-16 said immediately. “It’s not safe.”

“C’mon, D,” Orion teases. “I trust you.”

D-16 cycles his optics and Orion’s lopsided grin grows. “It’s not about that. You don’t know what you’re doing and even if it’s not real, I could hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Orion states, full of confidence.

“I could,” D-16 argues. “Then Prima would offline me for harming his one and only apprentice—”

Orion begins to circle D-16, close enough to reach but far enough that he could evade it. “I know what you’re doing, Pax. It’s not going to work.”

“Is it not?” Orion teases as he keeps in D-16’s blindspot, his friend calmly trying to catch sight of him again. He takes a chance while behind him, dashing out and giving the purple fabric of D-16’s House garment a good tug.

“Pax,” D-16 chastises. Yes, it’s a sparkling-like move, Orion knows and does not quite care. He does it again, giggles erupting from his vocalizer as D-16’s calmness dissipates.

Orion manages to tug at D-16’s garment twice more before D-16’s arm snaps out, captures the joint above Orion’s servos, and crowds him against the nearby wall. The yellow of D-16’s optics blaze. Orion notices how close they are, how his friend’s weight is the only thing that keeps him upright, and he grins.

D-16 growls, “Orion.” And honestly? Orion isn’t sure what’s going through his processor when his reaction to hearing D-16 say his name is to bite down on the gathered cloth by one of the gauntlets he’d been admiring earlier.

D-16 drops him. His aft hits the ground with a rough clank and Orion cries out, “hey!”

But D-16 isn’t listening. His optics are focused on the spot where Orion’s intake fluid darkened cloth’s already deep purple. D-16’s expression is horrified.

“Oh scrap, D.” Orion scrambles to his pedes. “It should go away, right? I’ve never—D! Where are you going? Wait!”

Before Orion can say another word, D-16 runs—no, sprints—out of the practice arena, leaving Orion there alone wondering what he’d done wrong.

~

DO: keep your garment clean! It’s polite and respectful, blah blah blah, you should know this. But! What you don’t know is that leaving a mark on another apprentice’s garment, accidental or not, is a serious offense! You tear it, that’s a show of disrespect to the apprentice and their House and you might have to fight them. On the other servo, if you, say, put a small decal on the cloth, you’re effectively marking that mech as your own. Same goes for intake fluid, though that just tells everyone that you and that bot are...together in a different sense. Catch my drift? 

~

“I’m sorry, D.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know but I made you upset, didn’t I?”

“...no. You didn’t.”

~

DON’T: wear another House’s garment!!! Unless you’re ready to be conjunxes. And I��m serious! It’s saying your devotion to that mech is equivalent to your devotion to your Prime. Ask yourself, little mech. Would you swear undying fealty to them? Would you choose that mech over your Prime? No? Then don’t do this.

(Okay, I might be a little overdramatic, but seriously, don’t.)

~

What fascinates Orion is how different the textiles feel from one another. He’s read about the arts and asked on multiple occasions to speak with the bot who made his House clothes because he must know more. Orion shifts the material of D-16’s garment between his digits, reveling in the weight and watching the fabric fold as he moves.

He drapes a length of it over his arm and turns to D-16, who’s dozing in and out of a light rest cycle. “Do you think purple would suit me?”

“Hm?”

Orion nudges his friend with the bend of his arm still wrapped in material. This time, D-16 rouses, even if only a little. “Your House garment, silly. How does it look?”

“Fine,” D-16 says.

“Just fine?” Orion complains. “You’re the meanest friend ever. You won’t even let me try?”

D-16 resettles his helm. “Not mean. ‘M honest.”

Orion shoves his shoulder plate, only serving to further tangle himself. “Your honesty is mean.”

“Would you prefer a more elaborate answer?”

“Not anymore,” Orion mutters. This time, he lets D-16 rest as he lays the garment over his lap and smoothes out the wrinkles he’s made. 

~

Congrats!!! Now you’re fully equipped to take on the social terrain in the House of Primes!!

In case you didn’t read all that, basically, keep to your own business and every other bot will keep to theirs. You’re lucky you have me to help you out with this because I didn't have anyone explain it to me and I broke about every rule before an apprentice told me. I was so embarrassed!!! No need to thank me though, little mech, whoever you may be. Just have fun! Be responsible! Follow these rules!!! I promise, you’ll have a better time if you do. Byeeee ;)

~

D-16 might cease to function—if he hasn’t already. On this particular solar cycle, Orion had dragged D-16 into another one of his schemes and deemed his quarters the meeting point. The door slid open, Orion welcomed him inside, and D-16’s optics landed on a datapad that made his spark drop.

That thing isn’t supposed to exist—not physically, anyway. How did it get here? How in Primus’ glory does Orion have it?!

“D?” Orion cuts through his panic.

“Have you…” D-16 can barely force his vocaliser to say the words. “Have you read it?”

Orion raises an optical ridge. Confused but fond. “Read what?”

A digit points at the datapad, though D-16 didn’t consciously give the command for it to do so. “That.”

“Oh that?” Orion ambles over to the offending object. “It was here when I moved in. Weird right? Maybe Prima put it here in case I forgot what he told me?”

D-16’s joints creak with the effort it takes to stride over and pick up the datapad. “You don’t need it though, do you?”

Please say no, D-16’s processor screams.

Orion laughs, though his confusion melds into concern as well. “No, I guess not…did you need it? You can take it, if you do.”

And D-16 then and there wishes Orion Pax had chosen a better friend, one who he deserves. Except, D-16 is also selfish and cold in ways where Orion is warm—he doesn’t wish that, in actuality. (It feels kinder to say that he does. Orion deserves kind.)

“Thanks,” D-16 says for lack of any explanation that wouldn’t be a flat-out lie.

Then Orion smiles at him, as he always does, and pats him on the chest plate, right next to his empty cog slot, right on his garment. D-16 musters a quirk of his dermas and tucks the datapad away from Orion’s prying optics. It’s hard to feel guilty about it, when Orion seems so content and his servos make his garment so warm.

~~~

A/N: tysm for reading! i'm sorry if i got any details wrong, i read all the comics over again to make sure i got it all correct but just in case i missed something! please check out the main comic if you haven't already. the worldbuilding, writing, and art style are all stunning!

[heliosunny]

Yandere!Phainon x Assistant!Reader

Summary: After being isekai’d into the world of Honkai: Star Rail, a game where players explore intergalactic civilizations and fight cosmic threats, you awaken in the city of Amphoreus as the assistant to Phainon.

In this fic contains different details from the original game.

A sharp chill ran down your spine as you opened your eyes. The first thing you noticed was the crystalline glow of Amphoreus stretching endlessly before you, its otherworldly beauty rendering you speechless. You blinked, expecting to see your screen, your controller, your familiar surroundings—but no. This wasn’t your room, and this wasn’t the game anymore.

“You’re awake.”

The voice was smooth, melodic, but carried an undercurrent of control that sent goosebumps crawling over your skin. You turned your head, and there he was—Phainon. Standing close, too close. His eyes, the same shimmering turquoise you had admired on screen, seemed to pierce right through you.

“Are you just going to stare, or do I need to remind you of your duties?” His lips curled into an amused smile, though his tone was sharp.

Duties? Wait—what was happening? You looked down at your clothes, now a sleek uniform of dark fabric adorned with golden embroidery. A datapad rested in your hands, glowing faintly with information that you couldn’t process. Your heart pounded as realization struck.

You were in the game.

And not just as a spectator—you were his assistant.

“I—uh…” Words caught in your throat. How were you supposed to explain this?

Phainon’s smile faltered, and his gaze turned calculating. “Are you unwell?” His hand reached for you, his fingers brushing against your forehead as though checking for a fever. “Strange. You’re not one to falter in your tasks.”

His touch felt unnervingly real, and you couldn’t help but flinch. That small reaction was all it took for his expression to darken.

“You’ve changed.” His voice dropped an octave, and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t like it.”

Before you could respond, a shimmering figure emerged from the nearby crystalline canal, interrupting the moment. A council envoy approached, their translucent form glowing faintly in the twilight.

“The council has summoned you, Lord Phainon.” the figure said, its voice echoing like a chime. “They request an update on the breach in the southern district.”

Phainon dismissed the envoy with a wave of his hand, his attention returning to you almost immediately. “Follow me,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And don’t stray.”

You stumbled after him, still trying to process the impossibility of your situation. As the two of you entered a grand hall bathed in twilight, the weight of countless eyes settled on you.

Phainon took his place at the center of the room, his aura dominating the space, but he kept you close—so close you could feel the brush of his robes against your arm. When a council member dared to question your presence, Phainon’s turquoise eyes burned with something dangerous.

“They belong to me” he said simply, his voice cold as ice. “And that’s all you need to know.”

The possessiveness in his tone sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t tell if it was part of the game’s narrative or if Phainon—the character you had once admired from afar—had taken his obsession with his assistant far beyond what you’d ever imagined.

As the meeting concluded, you found yourself alone with him once more. He turned to face you, his gaze unreadable.

“Something’s different about you,” he said, stepping closer until you had nowhere to retreat. His hand tilted your chin upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. “But no matter what’s changed, you’re still mine.”

You followed Phainon through the shimmering corridors of Amphoreus’ central council chamber, your footsteps echoing against the marble-like floors. Every now and then, his sharp turquoise gaze flicked back to ensure you were still behind him. The air between you crackled with an unspoken tension—a mixture of curiosity and something far darker.

Your mind raced. This has to be a dream, you thought. But no dream had ever felt this vivid. The coolness of the air, the hum of energy radiating from the crystalline walls, the weight of Phainon’s presence—it was all too real.

As you walked, fragments of your memory returned. Before waking here, you had been playing the new update, marveling at the Amphoreus map and Phainon’s enigmatic character. You had admired his aesthetic, his power, his complexity. But now that you were face-to-face with him, every instinct screamed that he was far more terrifying than you’d imagined.

“Stop daydreaming” Phainon said sharply, breaking your train of thought. He paused at the entrance to an elegant chamber, gesturing for you to step inside. “We have work to do.”

You hesitated, glancing into the room. It was a war room of sorts, with a large, glowing table projecting a holographic map of Amphoreus. Streams of data and symbols floated in midair, all indecipherable to you.

“I…” You faltered, unsure how to respond. You were supposed to be his assistant, but you had no idea what your responsibilities actually were.

Phainon’s eyes narrowed. He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. “What’s wrong with you today?” His voice was soft, but it carried a dangerous edge. “You’ve been acting strangely since this morning. If you’re hiding something, I’ll find out.”

Your throat tightened. You couldn’t tell him the truth—he wouldn’t believe you, and even if he did, there was no telling how he’d react.

“I’m just… tired” you said, forcing a weak smile. “Maybe I need some time to adjust.”

He studied you in silence, his gaze piercing. Then, to your surprise, he sighed.

“Fine,” he said, his tone softening ever so slightly. “You’ve always been diligent. I’ll overlook it—for now. But don’t make a habit of this.”

Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. Phainon stepped closer again, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was almost tender, but his next words sent a chill down your spine.

“Whatever is going on,” he murmured, “don’t forget your place. You’re mine.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes, Lord Phainon.”

Adjusting to life in Amphoreus was far from easy. You quickly realized that the assistant’s role was far more integral to Phainon’s work than you had anticipated. Not only were you responsible for managing his schedule and monitoring intelligence reports, but you were also his confidant, someone he trusted implicitly—perhaps too much.

Phainon’s possessiveness became more apparent with each passing day. He refused to let you out of his sight for too long, insisting you accompany him to every meeting, every inspection, every event. When other figures of authority—council members, envoys, or even subordinates—spoke to you, his gaze would darken, and he’d find subtle ways to end the conversation.

“You’re wasting their time” he’d say coldly, guiding you away with a firm hand on your shoulder.

Yet there were moments of softness, too—moments that made it difficult to reconcile the man you’d admired in the game with the one standing before you now. Late at night, when the weight of his responsibilities bore down on him, he’d sit with you on the terrace overlooking the crystalline city.

“I never asked for this” he once admitted, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Power, duty, control—it’s all meaningless without someone to share it with.”

You didn’t know how to respond. The intensity of his gaze as he looked at you made it clear he wasn’t speaking in generalities.

As you tried to navigate your new reality, a troubling realization began to take root. Phainon seemed to suspect that something about you was different, but he didn’t push the issue—perhaps out of fear that he’d lose you if he did. His obsession only grew stronger, manifesting in subtle yet suffocating ways.

When you finally found a moment alone, you attempted to access the datapad he had given you, hoping to find some clue about how to escape this world. To your shock, the datapad seemed to respond to your thoughts, displaying fragments of your real-world memories.

“Curious, aren’t you?”

You froze. Phainon stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“I knew you were hiding something” he said, stepping into the room. “But I didn’t expect it to be this.”

He moved closer, his turquoise eyes glowing faintly. “Tell me” he said, his voice dangerously soft. “Where are you really from?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. His smile widened, but there was no warmth in it.

“It doesn’t matter” he said, his hand reaching out to cup your face. “You’re here now. And I won’t let you leave.”

Phainon’s hand lingered on your face, his fingers impossibly cool against your skin. His gaze bore into yours, far too perceptive for comfort. You tried to pull back, but he caught your wrist with his other hand, holding you in place effortlessly.

“You’ve been acting strange since the day you woke up” he murmured, his voice low and measured. “Avoiding questions, hesitating with tasks you used to handle flawlessly… Do you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about” you stammered, your heart pounding in your chest.

His smile darkened, the turquoise glow in his eyes intensifying. “Lying to me, little one? That’s unwise.”

Before you could protest, he guided you toward the chair near the glowing map table. His grip was firm but not painful, though there was no mistaking the underlying strength in his movements. “Sit” he commanded, and though you wanted to resist, your legs betrayed you, folding beneath his imposing presence.

He leaned over you, one arm braced on the chair’s backrest, trapping you in place. “Let’s try again” he said, his voice soft yet sharp as a blade. “Who are you really? Because I know this isn’t the assistant I’ve trusted for years. And don’t bother lying—I’ll know.”

The intensity in his gaze made your throat tighten. You tried to think of a believable story, anything that wouldn’t reveal the impossible truth. But before you could speak, his hand brushed your cheek, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw with unnerving precision.

“Let’s make it easier” he murmured. “I’ll take the truth myself.”

You barely had time to process his words before a golden glow spread from his hand, sinking into your skin. It wasn’t painful, but it felt invasive, like his presence was sinking into your very mind. You gasped, trying to pull away, but the energy surrounding you was unyielding.

“No, no” he whispered, his tone almost soothing. “Don’t fight it. Let me see.”

Images flashed before your eyes—your life in the real world, the moment you were pulled into this game, your growing dread at being trapped here. You could feel his mind brushing against yours, unraveling your thoughts, your secrets, your fears.

When the glow finally faded, you slumped in the chair, trembling. Phainon straightened, his expression unreadable as he processed what he had seen.

“So,” he said slowly, his voice tinged with a strange mix of amusement and fascination. “You’re not from this world. You don’t belong here.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but his finger pressed gently against your lips, silencing you. “Hush” he said, his smile returning—but this time, it was tinged with something darker. “I understand now. You came here from another place, another reality. But you’re mine now. And I won’t let you leave.”

He straightened, stepping back slightly, but his presence still loomed over you. With a wave of his hand, golden chains of light materialized around your wrists and ankles, locking you in place.

“Phainon, please—” you began, your voice shaky, but he cut you off with a raised hand.

“This is for your own good” he said calmly. “Amphoreus is dangerous for those who don’t know its rules. And now that I know what you are… I can’t risk anyone else finding out.”

His fingers traced one of the glowing chains, and the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “You should feel honored,” he said. “I don’t let just anyone stay this close to me.”

You shivered as he leaned down once more, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “But don’t misunderstand me. If you try to escape, if you try to defy me…” His voice dropped to a whisper, sending chills down your spine. “I’ll remind you exactly who you belong to.”

His hand moved to your chin, tilting your face upward to meet his gaze. For a moment, the intensity in his eyes softened, replaced by something almost tender.

“I’ll take care of you” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You don’t have to be afraid… as long as you don’t forget your place.”

Your heart raced as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. His lips ghosted over yours, teasingly close but never fully connecting. “That’s my assistant.” he murmured, his voice dripping with possession.

Then, as quickly as the moment had begun, he straightened, leaving you breathless and trembling.

“I have business to attend to” he said, turning toward the door. “Rest here for now. We’ll continue this… discussion later.”

The golden chains binding you faded slightly, enough to allow you to move, but you could still feel their weight—both literal and symbolic. Phainon glanced back at you one last time, his smile as enigmatic as ever.

“Don’t go anywhere.” he said, his tone both a warning and a promise.

[scripts4dreamers]

Hey, so don’t think about your romance partner from Mass Effect going back to what’s left of Anderson’s apartment in the wake of the final mission.

Don’t think about them seeing the photo you took at that last party, the two of you smiling at one another instead of the camera because you were just so happy.

Don’t think about them slowly packing up the things of theirs they’d left behind back when they thought you would still have a future at the end of everything.

Don’t think about them finding the Datapad Anderson had left behind, the one where he talks about Shepard. About how hard they worked, how alone they had been, how they never complained. Don’t think about them sobbing silently, clutching the pad to their chest as David Anderson mocks them from beyond the grave.

“A person like Shepard is even rarer.”

Just don’t think about it.

[ddejavvu]

Also… your post about ani loving back scratches omg.. you think he’s into like reader playing with his hair too?? His curls, and even when he had short hair like wow I just know that man has the softest hair ever

happy may the 4th! send me star wars requests/headcanons and we'll have a party <3

i pictured this as tcw!anakin's hair because it was like the cutest little baby mullet/shag where it was growing and curling against the nape of his neck and i wanted to scrunch it with my fingers so bad <333

--

"Keep going."

"Hold on, hold on," You mutter, "My friend's texting me."

Anakin releases a displeased grunt into the fabric of your shirt, and you feel it where it lands warm in your lap.

"Easy," You tap away at the screen of your datapad, pecking letter by letter at what is shaping up to be a lengthy paragraph, "I thought they taught patience at the temple, Jedi Knight. I'll go back to playing with your hair as soon as I'm done."

Anakin grunts again, louder this time.

You don't dignify his dramatics with a response, and you continue typing, the lingering warmth of Anakin's hair fading from your fingertips. He lets you get half of a sentence more in before you feel an invisible tug at your hand, and it relocates itself against Anakin's scalp instead of where you'd placed it on your pad.

"Anakin!" You scoff, "Did you just force my hand back into your hair?"

He lets out a muffled chuckle into your sleep shirt, "Force."

"You are absolutely insufferable," You grumble, but you indulge him with the scrape of your nails against his scalp. It sends a shiver down his spine, and he burrows his face further into your stomach.

"You sound like Obi-Wan," He muses, "I've heard insufferable, incorrigible, reckless, untamable, unmanageable-"

"Unshushable," You add, still making a valiant effort at typing one-handed rather than returning your second hand to its rightful place among Anakin's barely-curled scruff, "Do you ever stop talking?"

"You love the sound of my voice," He accuses, peering up at you with squinted, tired eyes, "That's why you make me read to you at night."

"No, I make you read to me at night because the last thing you read was a users' manual for a landspeeder, and you barely even skimmed that," You scratch against the crown of his head and he groans, "I worry about your literary habits."

"I worry about your hair-playing habits," He reaches out to knock your datapad out of your hand which he drags back into his hair, "Come on, baby, you owe me three books-worth of this."

[transformersxreader]

TFONE Yandere Sentinel Prime x Femme Reader

(Part One)

"You look exquisite my dear (Y/n)~"

(Y/n) couldn't move, she was terrified looking at her own reflection into the large mirror. Servos rested upon her shoulders, a large figure comes behind her moving to stand beside her. (Y/n) breath hitch when she felt a servo grab ahold of her chin making her look up to Sentinel prime.

"Smile dear, the public awaits~"

(Y/n) felt her helm shake slowly, looking back at herself in the mirror, joining the prime. They both slowly walk out to the balcony, where she was greeted with cheers and flashes of lights.

This was the moment Sentinel Prime announces his marriage engagement to the whole city of Iacon. The thought of their savior prime getting to marry somebot made all the cybertronians thrill and happy.

If only they knew.....

(Y/n) was force to smile and wave gracefully to the large crowd making sure to show everyone how "happy" she was. Sentinel prime had no problem waving to the crowd. (Y/n) felt a servo land on her hip, looking up she sees sentinel smiling down to her. (Y/n) was hesitant to slap that smile off his face, but she knew the consequences. How? How could she let this happen?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Flashback)

"(Y/n) a word."

(Y/n) lifted her surgical lopues glasses, looking up from her work to see Ratchet, she places the small tool to the side.

"How can I assist you sir?"

Ratchet walks up lifting up a datapad to (Y/n)

"Are you busy this afternoon?"

(Y/n) gave a good thought replying back to him,

"No sir. I believe I'm free, is there something happening?"

Ratchet smiles

"Would you be interested on joining me and a few other medics to speak with Sentinel prime?"

(Y/n) thought how amazing it would be to meet a prime and having a chance to speak with him. (Y/n) gave ratchet a nod of excitement grabbing the datapad.

Gathering with the other medics, ratchets leads them to an elevator, (Y/n) felt nervous more and more as the elevator went up hearing a small ding, the doors sliding open and there standing proudly was the Sentinel Prime.

"Greeting Ratchet and I see some fellow hard working medics!"

Sentinel walks up shaking ratchets hand, waking to each medic thanking them for their service. (Y/n) lets out a breath trying to calm herself. Once sentinel reaches the (F/c) femme, he pause for a moment, catching himself for freezing. Grabs ahold of (Y/n) servo shaking it slowly

"And who is this lovely medic?"

(Y/n) blushes and shakes his hand back,

"(Y-y/n). Sentinel prime sir."

Sentinel smiles and lifts (Y/n) hand to his lips kissing it lightly. Catching (Y/n) and the other medics/doctor by surprise,

Sentinel then lifts his arms up,

"I appreciate you hard working medics making sure all citizens of Iacon are in their best health! I celebrate you."

Ratchet and the other medics where grateful for his words, (Y/n) was still spaced out on what just happen not focusing on the conversation that when she felt a servo on her shoulder she sees ratchet giving her a small smile, looking back to the prime thanking him for speaking with them.

Just as they all gather into the elevator, (Y/n) looks up notice that the prime was staring right at her, (Y/n) smiles shyly waving goodbye.

Once the elevator doors closed the prime lets out a steam of breath looking back, he sees Airachnid coming out of the shadows.

"Follow (Y/n)."

\_______________________________/

"You ready to go Skyburn."

The bigger jet bot stood and stretched out his arms, moving his leg in steady motion."

(Y/n) gave a small cube to him, filling out a few things on the datapad.

"Now remember try not to use a lot of activity like jumping and running for a while, and you'll be as good to go."

Skyburn grabs the datapad and gives (Y/n) a firm nod leaving out the doors.

(Y/n) sighs another patient satisfied, she then took a moment looking down the hand that sentinel kissed, rubbing it still processing if that really did happened.

Also she has felt like someone was watching her, not close but from afar. She carefully gather her things heading out, she scans her card stating that she's no longer in the building.

"Uh.. finally, I can't wait to go home."

(Y/n) again felt the feeling of someone watching her, making sure to be aware of her surroundings but couldn't pin point it.

She made it to her home building as she was putting in her code, a large shadow figure covers her smaller one. She quickly looks back to see a large spider like femme.

(Y/n) couldn't let out a sound too afraid to speak out, the spider femme looks to her side revealing her other optics. She made sure to analyze (Y/n) and their surroundings.

"Are you (Y/n)?"

(Y/n) nods not wanting to get the bigger and scarier bot mad.

She lifts what looks like a hard drive or chip waiting for (Y/n) to grab it, which she slowly did. (Y/n) gave the femme bot a confused look.

"From Sentinel Prime. Play this when you are ready."

And with that she leaves, (Y/n) waits till she couldn't hear the clicks of her extra legs. She leans against the door sliding down hitting the floor letting out heavy breaths.

"What just happened?"

(Y/n) gave a long thought looking at the small drive, was this actually from sentinel? She places the drive in its slot, a hologram reveals at first glitching till it actually reveals the prime himself.

"Greeting (Y/n), if you are seeing this message I invite you to accompany me tomorrow evening. Please I insist."

And with that the message end, leaving (Y/n) there still processing what she saw. (Y/n) smiles covering her mouth with excitement so she doesn't make too much noise for her neighbors. (Y/n) needed to peppered herself, make sure she looked presentable for the prime.

The next day, (Y/n) was finishing up her work load, her feet wouldn't stop tapping from all the nervousness. Finally the evening came but just as she steps out of the medic wing she was greeted by the same spider femme.

"Oh! H-hello again um.."

"Airachnid. Follow me."

And with that she transforms into her vehicle mode catching (Y/n) by surprise, she quickly transforms to her jet form trying to catch up with Airachnid. Once landing what looks like the top of sentinel primes tower, (Y/n) mid transforms landing right beside Airachnid.

"(Y/n) you came! Glad to see you again!"

Sentinel voice echos out through the shiny room, Sentinel walks up to her, holding out his hand for (Y/n), which she grabs. This time he lower himself to kiss her servo.

"I'm so pleased that you were able to join me, please this way."

"Oh no sir, it's a pleasure to join you."

(Y/n) lets Sentinel lead her to an area that looked like a whole group of friends can hang with a nice furniture and table that had energon goodies, there for the rest of the time together they sat and talked about each other.

The more (Y/n) talk about herself the more the prime fell harder for her. (Y/n) then notice that it was getting late.

"Oh, I really should head home, don't wanna take up more of your time. I had an amazing time."

Sentinel gets up slowly walks up to (Y/n) grabbing her serves holding them together with his bigger ones.

"No worries my dear, and please I wish to see you again whenever you're free."

(Y/n) nods blushing, thanking him again. Transforming and heading home. Sentinel watches (Y/n) leave waving his hand goodbye till he could no longer see her form.

"Have you gather all her information?"

Airachnid comes out, smiling holding up a small drive.

Some time has passed, the more (Y/n) spend time with the prime the more she developed feeling for him. Same goes for the prime but his love was twisted, (Y/n) not knowing what she was getting herself into.

(Y/n) made it home after another date, With sentinel, she hums a little tune to herself getting ready for a good rest, slowly drifting off.

She felt heavy for a moment till a large flash of light blind her till her optics open, noticing she was staring into a vast of stars. She noticed more she was laying on the floor, lifting herself up.

"Uh hello? Hello?"

(Y/n) begins to walk in a direction but it seems she wasn't moving at all. Till a voice booms out,

"(Y/n)."

She turns letting out a surprise gasp, there stood Zeta Prime.

"What? Z-zeta prime?!"

The bigger bot knees down the be eye level with (Y/n) placing a hand on her shoulder.

"What's going on? Where am I? Oh no am I?.."

Zeta Prime shakes his head

"No. No, young (Y/n). You are in an astral projection. Between worlds."

(Y/n) gives Zeta a confused look

"If I'm here? Why?"

Zeta stands walking around (Y/n) making her turn to follow him.

"You are in grave danger (Y/n). All of cybertron and cybertronians are in danger."

"I-in danger from what? W-who?"

"Sentinel."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ll add some sketches tomorrow hopefully it’s getting late for me ✍️🥱💤

Holy moly! Thanks again for taking your time reading this, sorry again for taking some time off, personal matters that I had to deal with.

Funny thing is, I wrote this like three times with different story plot and chose this one, I'll probably post the others later.

But yes! Thanks for all your support 🥹☺️

Peace ✌️

[the-californicationist]

That Fire is Repeated

AO3 Link

From an anonymous ask: fic of where instead of Price, it's reader who's been infected with sex pollen?👉👈please and thank u!

Deep in the southern jungles of Urzikstan, Captain Price is sent to help with your extraction. On your way out of the makeshift Konni laboratory, you accidentally step on a trap, and Price volunteers to save your life.

“I can’t hear her comms!” Simon yelled out over the noise of the helicopter, pointing to his headset and giving the thumbs down to Laswell.

She typed something into her datapad and showed it to him, yelling back,

“Dead zone! You’ll have to go in on foot.”

Price adjusted his vest and checked to make sure his gun was fully loaded,

“I’ll go. She’s my recruit, my responsibility.”

“Sure you’ll wanna be the big hero for her, too, huh?” Farah laughed from the cockpit, glancing over her shoulder as Price twisted his face, cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink from his shame. 

It was well-known that Price had a terribly strong crush on you. You had accepted his advances, but he was reluctant to take it further, realizing that fraternizing was frowned upon. So, you pined for each other from afar, and the whole base knew about it.

Laswell rolled her eyes at Farah’s comment, 

“Should we go back to basics? Captain: don’t subtract from the population,” her eyes narrowed, “Don’t add to the population…”

“Yeah, alright, Kate. Got it. Loud and clear,” Price waved her off, staring out the window and ignoring the obvious ribbing from his colleagues. 

“Go get Sparrow and let’s go the fuck home,” Laswell hollered at him, opening the door to the chopper and letting the air whoosh inside.

The wind stung his cheeks, and the tall grass blades spun and twirled like violent dancers as he made his way towards the old, dilapidated lab. You’d been sent to infiltrate secret Konni operations here, disguised as a chemist. Now that the Konni operatives had been dispatched, you secured the intel and were ready for extraction. Price was ready to have you back. These types of ops were so delicate. One wrong move would put you in danger. He was glad the worst of it was over. 

As quickly and as carefully as he could, Price made his way inside. It was a little odd that you weren’t outside waiting for the extraction, so his guard was up. In the main lab, he spotted you, standing with your bag and your weapon with your back towards him. 

“Little bird?” Price questioned under his breath, moving forward slowly, using the pet name he saved for when you two were alone. 

“Hey, Captain. Glad you made it,” you called out to him, your voice tinged with obvious sobbing and stress. 

“What is it, Spar? What’s happened?”

He made his way around the lab table and saw you. You were standing stock-still, staring down at your foot. Then, he knew what had made you cry. 

Jutting out of your pant leg, a giant syringe was stuck into your calf, empty.

Price leaned down to help you, removing the needle, panicking at the thought of losing you,

“Can you move?”

“When I do… Captain, it’s excruciating.”

“Fuck,” Price tried the comms. But, then he remembered it was a dead zone, and no one was coming to help him. He asked you, “Is it poison? How’d this happen?”

“They call it XLR8. It’s what they’ve been working on. A prototype. I was bending down to grab my bag and this was rigged to hit me. They knew I was a spy.”

“What does it do, this prototype?” You heard his voice quiver at the end of his question. 

You blushed, laughing a bit, 

“It incapacitates you, first. Removes your inhibitions, next. Then, it causes extreme vasodilation…”

“In the Queen’s bloody English, love. Please…”

“John,” you used his name, looking up into his eyes, “I may ask you to do things to me. Things that I might not usually ask for. And I want you to know that you don’t have to listen to me. I don’t want you to do anything… I don’t want to force you to do… things…”

“Birdie. Tell me what I need to know.”

“When the Konni scientists injected it into mice, they would breed… for hours. They wouldn’t eat, they wouldn’t sleep. One time, a researcher opened the door to the cage, and they didn’t escape. They only bred…” You looked at him in his eyes, making sure he heard you, “But, the mice who were alone in their cages and were given XLR8 got a high fever and died. Every last one of them”

“Are you… “ Price pointed down at your leg, “Do you mean to say that you’ll need someone to…”

You looked down at the ground, steeling yourself for the harsh reality of what was to come,

“When the drugs hit my system, the effects were immediate. Stage one should be almost over now.. You’ll… you’ll know it when you see stage two. But, listen to me, John. I couldn’t live with myself if I forced you to do something that you would regret. Please. I’m sure they’ll think of some other way to help me…”

“Little bird,” he caught your gaze and smiled softly at you, “I’m here for you. I’m not going to let anythin’ happen to you. I won’t lose you to this. I can’t… I care about you too much. I’m going to catch you, and we’re going to get out of here. Just fall forward into my arms, love. I know it hurts. We need to get you to the bloody medic as soon as we can.”

You nodded, and then you did as he commanded. Every movement felt like some sort of hell. You could hear yourself screaming, but it was muffled, your face buried in his chest. You were hanging, limp, against John’s body. You could feel every stinging step he took as it jostled your body. Suddenly, you heard the angry clipping of chopper blades. Then, you passed out. 

Sometime later, you awoke, still on the chopper, sitting in the jump seat way in the back. Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. Price was sitting in the jumpseat and you were… straddling his lap. 

You were humping him, shamelessly, right in front of Farah, Laswell, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. The helicopter was full of soldiers, and here you were, uncontrollably rocking your hips against your captain. The others tried to avert their gazes, sitting at awkward angles, trying not to watch, but that somehow made it worse. 

You cried out as if you were in pain, and Price held you closer, soothing you with his deep, rumbling voice, speaking to you right in your ear,

“Shh, shh. It’s alright, little bird. I’ve got you. Almost home. Just a few more minutes.”

“John… fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… I need… oh, God.”

“I know what you need,” he kissed your neck, and he took his hand and shoved it down the front of your pants, giving you something to grind against. 

His fingers were strong, and the tips of them were thick, easily pressing through your folds for you, exciting your nerves just the way you liked.

You moaned loudly, unable to stop yourself. When you did, you saw Soap’s head peek around the back of his seat. Then, a gloved, skeletal hand yanked him back around to face the front. If you didn’t die from the XLR8, you’d die from embarrassment afterward, that was certain. 

“It’s okay, bird. It’s not your fault. They know that,” he tried to reassure you, but you hid your face in his neck anyway, unable to stop your wanton writhing, soaking his fingers until they slid against you unimpeded. 

You felt your hands reach for his belt, digging under his vest and all of his equipment straps. You wanted to spear your body onto his thick cock. You were sure that it would cure you. The fever made you feel too cold and too hot all at the same time. You shivered in his arms, but your brow was dotted with beads of sweat. 

He caught your wrist to stop you,

“Just a little while longer, love. Shh, shh, shh. I know…”

You sobbed into his shoulder, ashamed and needy, too weak to fight his grip. 

“Hey, look at me,” you obeyed, and he rubbed your cheek, “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

You shuddered, cresting over a brief, sharp orgasm, coming on him as quietly as you could, biting your cheek so you wouldn’t cry out. For a few seconds, you experienced some sort of relief, but then it was gone, and the overwhelming internal fire raged in your belly once more.

The chopper pitched, landing on the pad at your base, and everyone cleared out of the hull except for Laswell. She looked down at you, pity in her eyes, and then turned to him with concern,

“I’ll send a few supplies to your room. The medic wants to run some tests. How long is this supposed to last?”

John shrugged, petting the sweaty hair out of your face, tucking you in close to him in his arms,

“Not sure. Just trying to get her through it. Take her datapad. It’s got her notes from the lab.”

Laswell took it and stepped down from the chopper, jogging off to the med bay. 

“C’mon, love. Let me help you take that fever away, hm?”

You nodded, feeling dizzy and dehydrated, letting him carry you from the helicopter. It seemed like the tight coil in your belly was getting more and more tense by the moment. Your orgasm had been too weak, and it was almost like you hadn’t quite completed the event. You were just stuck in between coming and not coming, waiting for someone to put you out of your misery. What you thought had been relief was really just a prelude to the main event. It was torture. 

As you lay your head on his chest, you could smell his aftershave as it mixed with his skin, a comfortingly warm scent with woodsy spices and the faint hint of tobacco from his favorite cigars. You wanted more of it, so you turned your nose into him, running your hands across the belt of his pants, trying to pry your way in..

When he arrived in the barracks, he kicked open the door to a dark room. It smelled just like him. You realized then that you were in his quarters. He lay you on his bed and set to taking off your gear. Your boots and socks slid off, and he unclipped your vest. Then, you felt his fingers on your neck, carefully inspecting your wounds. 

“Birdie…” He shook his head, obviously regretful for what you were going through. 

You whimpered, looking up at him as you moved your hand down your own pants, rubbing yourself in front of him out of a desperate need, 

“John, I don’t know how to ask you this.”

“You don’t have to. Medic’s gonna check you out, and I’ll give you whatever you want, little bird. I promise.”

“I need you, now. I don’t… I can’t… mmmngh...”

“Captain?” A woman’s voice floated into the room from the doorway. Price cracked the door and when he saw it was the medic, he let her in. 

She knelt by the bed, and took your hand,

“Hey, Sparrow. I’m just going to check your vitals, okay?”

You nodded, trying not to stare down the dark opening of her lab coat. Her voice was so sweet, and her breasts looked full and soft. Her olive skin would probably feel so warm on your lips. Before you could stop yourself, you had your hand behind her head, kissing her neck, trying your best to unbutton her blouse.

“Easy! Easy does it,” John sat himself down behind you on the bed, positioning you between his legs, and held you back, keeping you from accosting the medic. 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I… oh, my God…” You writhed, trying to fight the demonic need building inside of you.

“That’s okay,” she said, “They warned me. We’re going to get you some help… Let me take your temp… Goddamnit. She’s burning up. I’m going to give her a light sedative and something to try and cut her fever, but…”

She stopped speaking, looking up at the captain, trying to be delicate, 

“You probably need to… um… begin. The sooner the better. I’ll leave these with you,” she dropped two blue pressed pills into his hand, “Just in case you, uh, need a boost.”

Price recognized the sexual enhancement drugs and put them on his side table. He waited patiently for the medic to take a small vial of your blood. He thanked her, trying not to sound like he was in a rush (even though he was), and eventually she shut the door, leaving you two in each others’ care.

John stayed where he was, but he softened his grip, kissing your neck. He reached down and unbuttoned your pants, giving your hand room to move. You rubbed your folds faster, making tight little circles around your clit, struggling to come. 

“Nnngh… fuck. Fuck, I can’t do it. I’m so close, but…” You whined, gritting your teeth and struggling against the XLR8. It was making you woozy, and you couldn’t keep your strength up in order to get yourself over the edge. 

“Show me,” he whispered, staring down at your furious masturbation, watching your hand as it worked, “Show me how you like it, little bird. Teach me.”

Your heart raced, equal parts excited and embarrassed to show him something so personal and intimate, but you did as you were told, letting him see how your fingers worked your flesh. He sighed, and you felt his cock shift against the small of your back. 

He took over for you, sliding his hand down below yours, mimicking your movements, and getting very close to perfection. 

“That’s it!” You hissed, keening for him, “That’s… oh, fuck, that’s so good. Don’t stop. Please, don’t —”

Your orgasm was almost immediate. Your body locked up, every muscle squeezing you until you were frozen, rigidly convulsing as you came on his hand. Your mouth hung open in a breathless, silent scream. Then, to your horror, you felt the heavy stain of some sort of fluid soaking through your pants. At first, you thought you’d wet yourself, but then when John pulled his hand away to inspect your emission, you saw the sticky, gooey consistency shining on his fingers. 

“What… I don’t understand. What is that?”

“It looks like your come, yeah? Quite a lot of it…” He observed. Price brought it to his nose and mouth to smell it. Then, he licked his fingers tentatively, and his eyes rolled back into his head, “Mmm. Fuck. It’s sweet.”

He lifted you so easily, it was as if you weighed nothing. Propping you up on his pillows, he helped you out of your pants and boots, stripping you down. When Price saw you, dripping and pink, splayed in front of him like a gleaming prize, he stalled. Then, he looked up at you, eyes wide with glorious wonder,

“Little bird…”

“John,” you gasped, “Please.”

He didn’t waste any more time. In a flash, your thighs were hitched up toward your chest as he shoved them back, giving his mouth access to its warm, wet reward. 

The first long lick was like its own kind of drug. Your whole body sang like a bell, trembling and ringing out for him and his soft tongue. He licked you again and pulled away, confused but pleasantly so,

“Fuck, love. You taste like strawberries. That’s… fuck.”

You lost track of time as he devoured you. His whole face was shining with your stickiness, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He was gasping for air, practically drowning himself, rubbing his chin and nose through your folds as he tried to writhe his tongue deeper into your core, fucking you with it to draw out more of your slickness. 

The sounds you were making seemed almost inhuman. You were convinced you had never had a true orgasm before if this is what they were supposed to feel like. Every lap of his tongue felt like its own crescendo. You were putty in his hands, figuratively and literally judging by the dampness beneath you. 

Eventually, he made his way back up your body, peeling away your shirt and bra, rustling out of his own clothes as quickly as he could, his muscular arms getting trapped in his jacket, stretching and pulling against his heavy bones for freedom.

“You alright, little bird?” He asked you softly, crawling over you and settling himself between your shivering thighs. 

You nodded,

“Yeah, that was so amazing, John. I know its selfish, but I need more. Can… can you fuck me? Please? I’m clean, I have an IUD. Please? I won’t —”

“Shh. Hush, love. I’m not leavin’ this room ‘til I’ve cured you, one way or another. C’mere.”

He pulled you to him, kissing you, covered in your come. You tasted yourself on his lips, and he was right: it was exactly like strawberries. It must have been the stimulant, you thought. Something to… entice… 

Your mind went blank as John began to feed his fat cockhead into your hole. All of the pain and the heat from the fever disappeared, and you were normal again. Well, a very horny normal, but at least you felt some relief. 

“Oh, my God!” You cried, “That’s it. That’s what I needed. Oh…”

“Yeah?” Price narrowed his eyes, studying your face, watching your reactions with rapt attention. Where you were stabilizing, he was falling apart at the seams. 

His whole body shuddered as he slid himself into you. It was shallow at first; he was too thick to fit inside of your tight pussy, no matter how wet you were. But, as he lubed himself up in your body, he squeezed deeper and deeper inside, eventually drilling down right to his base, slamming his hips into yours like a hungry machine. 

Your screams echoed in his small room, and the metal bed creaked under his enormous weight. You could feel his power through his thrusts. He was so incredibly strong, and his muscles bent and twisted just to serve your pleasure. It was hypnotizing to watch. You were focused on the straining sinew in his immense neck when another orgasm threatened to bubble over inside of you. 

It was too soon. You’d barely recovered from the first one, and as he felt your body start to contract around his shaft, he began to moan right along with you. 

“That’s it, Birdie, let it out. C’mon. Come for me… That’s it. That’s… ungh!” He coached you, talking you through it, fighting his own pleasure like the dragon it was, the heat of his breathing furling in hot bursts down your neck. 

His eyes were wrenched shut, but between his long, aching thrusts, he rambled, spilling out his words instead of himself inside of you like he wanted to. 

“Spar… don’t you know how badly I’ve wanted this?”

Your pussy was being pounded so hard you could feel your pulse slamming against your skin.

“...I’ve wanted you… wanted to feel you…”

His face was near yours, close enough that you could still smell your sweet slick on his beard. 

“...it’s so good. I never want it to stop. Feels like heaven…”

When he wasn’t speaking in that hoarse, smoldering timbre, you could see his jaw working against itself, fighting the inevitable. 

“...so damn responsive to me. Such a good girl…”

Then, his tone turned dark, burning into your face as he spoke against your cheek through gritted teeth, 

“You want more, hm?”

“Yeah…” You whispered, your voice sounding so small. 

“Harder? You want it harder, don’t you, little bird? I can tell.”

You nodded, whispering your pleading to him in wordless gasps. He smiled. You could feel it against your skin,

“Bloody hell. Bloody fuckin’ hell,” he lamented, rising up above you, wrenching his fingers around your waist, the gentleness gone from his touch, “Fuck, Birdie. You’ll make me come. You… ah!”

He brought you with him as he tumbled over the edge. You felt like you’d been hit with a flashbang. You couldn’t hear, and your vision went white. When you begged your lungs to breathe, you couldn’t take in the air. All you could feel — the only thing your body would allow you to feel — was each silky throb of his cock as it pumped his come inside of you. You could feel it as it burst from him, and then as it melted down your walls, flowing across his fleshy head. It was lava-hot, and you knew nothing except that you needed more. 

Price collapsed on top of you, his heavy, furry body sweaty and panting, gasping for air himself. He seemed spent, but you weren’t done. 

You flipped him, planting him on his back, enjoying the shocked look on his face, his eyes wide and uncertain. He couldn’t speak; there wasn’t enough time. But, as you began to rock back and forth on his softening rod, he cried out with something between pain and bliss. 

“Oh, fuck, love… wait! I’m… oh, shite…” 

“I’m… so sorry, John. I can’t stop…” You ground your swollen pussy down to his base, fucking him raw and wild, feeling his come slipping out of you in foamy smears. 

He nodded, hiding his eyes behind his palm, struggling to get his breathing under control,

“It’s alright, Birdie. It’s alright. Take what you need.”

As you rode him, he fully softened in you, and you cried out, trying everything you could to bring him back. Then, you watched as he fumbled across the end table, reaching for the blue pills the medic had left behind. He took one, and stared up at you,

“I’m sorry, love. C’mere.”

He grabbed your thighs, and with very little struggle, situated you across his face, grabbing your hips and pulling you down onto him, forcing you to put your weight on his jaw. He began to eat you out, licking long circles around your messy hole at first, and then he thrust his long tongue inside of you, rubbing his nose deep within your wet folds. 

You screamed for him then, trying to battle your insecurities and failing. It was overwhelming. The pleasure just built and built inside of you, mounting up and then… nothing. It remained there at its peak, a tightened coil, ready to bust. 

“John! John, I can’t… Help me, please.”

With all of his strength, he lifted you off of him, shoving you on all fours, situating himself behind you. 

All of his movements were rabid and unwieldy. He was struggling, trying to overcome his soporific pleasure to accommodate you. Hungry for you even though he’d recently been sated. 

Your chaos quieted for a moment when you felt his fingers prying your lips apart between your legs, slipping into you like a cork, sinking down to his knuckles into a perfect fit. 

“Oh, Sparrow. So fuckin’ soft. So sweet.” 

As he praised you, he ate you, pulling out more and more of your stickiness onto his hand, lapping you up with his tongue. You were coming unwound, and it felt amazing. It was as if he was pulling pulsing orgasms from your body on a long silk ribbon, one after the other, soft and slick, neverending. 

Then, finally, you felt his head tapping its way into your wet hole once more. Fucking you from behind seemed to be your commander’s preference. It was either that or he had become beyond overstimulated. His noises were a cross between whimpers and growls. He kissed his way up your back, sinking his sharp teeth into your neck and shoulder, grunting like an animal as he buried himself into you. 

“You’re so big. I feel so full,” you whispered to him, glancing over your shoulder as he knelt over you like a feral hound, bucking into you shamelessly. 

“Feels good, little bird? ‘M not hurtin’ you, am I?” 

“No, John. You’re perfect,” you found his jaw as he kissed your neck, nuzzling his face with your own, rubbing against him like a cat. 

“Gonna come for me, love? Squeezin’ the fuck out of my cock.”

“I can’t help it,” you cried, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks. You were so overwhelmed, your body was processing every sensation, fraying your nerves. He wiped your temple with his hand, 

“I know, Sparrow. I know. Let it out, love. C’mon. I can take it.”

“Nghah!” You screamed, trying to relax into the blinding pleasure, feeling your legs start to tremble from it.

“Mmm,” Price groaned deeply, sitting back on his knees as he felt you spill over the edge. Your sticky come coated his cock and the dense hair at his base, matting the dark fur, “Tha’s it, baby. Fuck, so wet.”

You sobbed through the orgasm as it wrecked your body. John gathered you up in his arms, taking the sheet with him, clutching you to his chest messily, still humping himself into you as gently as he could, but unable to quell his own lurid desire. 

“Lay down, Birdie,” your captain whispered, pulling the sheet away and pushing you prone into his mattress, “Try to breathe for me. Tha’s it.”

You tried to do as he commanded. You wanted to be good for him, but your breath kept hitching in your throat. You needed more, and you didn’t know how to get it. You writhed below him, feeling his cock slipping in and out of you, the wetness from your body pooling beneath you. 

“John, I’m still so hot. Feels like I’m losing my mind,” you looked at him over your shoulder, and you had to admit he didn’t look much better. He was spent, fucking you on auto-pilot at this point, letting nature take its own path. He was nothing more than base instincts at this point, and you could tell he was having trouble keeping himself tied down. 

He wanted to come again, you could feel it in how rigid his cock had become, helped by the pills. Something inside of you wanted to force his come from him, to make him explode in you again, filling you up. So, you pushed your hips back, arching your spine to allow more of his cock inside of your pussy, teasing him with your swollen hole. 

“Oh, fuck. Sparrow… don’t…”

“Does it feel good, John?” You asked, not following his orders for once, “Do I… make you feel good?”

“Holy fuck,” he spat, his voice dark and animalistic, unable to tear his eyes from where your bodies were joined together.  

You twisted your hips back and forth, effectively jerking him off with your drooling sheath, listening to his deep whining as you tormented him, pushing him to the brink but not fucking him fast enough to toss him over. 

“Little bird… Please…” John whimpered, overstimulated and eager to come.

“Tell me,” you teased him, not recognizing your own voice, “Tell me how you like it.”

“I fuckin’ love it. Just like that, Birdie. So damn good. Keep movin’ your hips like that, pretty girl. Gonna make me come again.”

You could feel his eyes watching you fuck him. He used his hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, giving him a bird’s eye view of both of your holes. You could feel the cool air rush across them, exciting you and making you shiver from the sensation. 

“So damn pretty,” Price crooned, whispering almost to himself, petting your stretched skin with his thumbs, smearing your wetness all over you.

You felt him grab your hair, right at the nape of your neck, forcing your back to arch, pulling you up to him, 

“You want me to come in you, little bird? You want my fuckin’ come? Hm? Tell me!”

“Nghh… Yes,” you hissed. His grip was so restricting, and you felt the air try to escape your throat, “Come. In. Me.”

“Sparrow!” Price shouted, releasing your hair to hold you across your belly, wrapping your body in his arms, ramming himself into you as deeply as he could, letting his cock spill into you once again. 

You were full of him. John was everywhere. He was wet and dripping within you, and as he fell to the bed with you, his body covered yours fully, wrapping you beneath him. You shifted a bit, convincing him to roll onto his side, kissing his neck and face, whispering sweet nothings to him as he caught his breath. 

“So good, John… You are so good to me,” you let your lips sink into his warm, panting mouth, letting your lips slide together. 

“Mmm,” he sighed, “Still hard. The medic was right about those pills.”

“I’m so sorry,” you straddled him again, humping against his still-rigid shaft, “I still need you, John. Please?”

“Sure, little bird. Ah! Oh, fuck, I’m sensitive. Easy… Ngh!”

“I’ll go slow,” you leaned forward to kiss him, capturing his long moan in your mouth. 

Suddenly, there was a quick knock at the door and then a slit of light as it creaked open. A skeletal gloved hand reached in with a stuffed bag and dropped it just inside the room before shutting it tightly again. 

Price removed you gently, watching you pout, and he explained,

“Laswell’s care package.”

“Come back, John,” you pulled his hand toward you as he opened the bag with the other.

He started laughing, letting you guide his cock back into you while he was standing at the edge of the bed. You watched as he pulled a couple of water bottles out of the bag and set them on the end table, still chuckling to himself. 

“Hey,” you pet your fingers through the hair on his belly as you writhed against him, “What’s funny?”

“Strawberries,” he smiled as he pulled a small box of the fruit from the bag, his eyes twinkling in the low light, “You want one, little bird?”

You nodded, but then felt the sudden emptiness of him removing his cock from you again. Then, with a devilish grin, you watched him dip the tip of the bright red fruit into your pussy, twirling it around in your juices, coating it with your thick stickiness, and then sucking it into his mouth, eating half of it and letting it drip down his chin. 

He brought it to your mouth, at the same time thrusting himself all the way inside of you, making you gasp,

“Open wide, love.”

[keferon]

I just saw the post about Jazz not taking care of himself and all that, and with the doodle provided on that, i for some reason, have the mental imagine of Prowl now just holding Jazz on one hand while the tiny human sleeps there, and he's just working on whatever it is that he needs to work on with one hand

Because he got scared and now does not want to let go until he's sure he's ok.

There is no context, i just saw Prowl holding tiny Jazz and now my brain itches for more of that i guess.

THO SPEAKING OF WHICH (please excuse the rambling), but like when Prowl first finds out about Jazz actually not being a mech and just this tiny soft squishy human, who, in tfp Ratchet's words, can go squish under their pedes like, now constantly panics about Jazz possibly being hurt

And under no circumstances allows him to walk on the floors in fear he might, in fact, go squish. So everytime he leaves his suit Prowl has him sit by on the tabls or straight out just carries him (bring out that meme of Finn having a pocket for Jake)

Idk, the amount of funny scenarios of Prowl having to learn about how to be careful around a human is endless and i love it, and dammit your au has been stuck in my head i can't stop looking at content for it, it's making me go insane!!

Oh and to hopefully finish my rambling off, but add huamn adrenaline to the mix. Jazz getting severally hurt, but the adrenaline keeps him kicking for a bit longer, like bleeding out and a broken arm but he pushes through as if it were nothing....until they are out of danger and the pain kicks in. Prowl is none the wiser to his partner's injuries until the mecha suit starts to tweak as Jazz starts to let out pained screams, or small gasps of pain depending how much hurt you want him to be in, and then he pops out the chest compartment to reveal how much actual damage he took.

Ok this was supposed be a small "haha Prowl holding a sleeping Jazz" and it turned in to a full on yap session about very different ideas, hope you dont mind ^^;;

Just really love your au man...

YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ACTUALLY PREDICTED THE THING I WAS PLANNING TO INCLUDE IN MY THREAD :D

Like. Y E AH. Think of it. Fuckinb imaginb. Jazz falling asleep right where he was standing and Prowl is like. Okay I need to find some safe place to put this tiny guy because I don’t want him to get squashed right?? But he doesn’t really have a lot of options so he ends up just sitting and reading something from his datapad with one hand. And holding Jazz in the other. And it works perfectly because Jazz is small enough to fit in Prowls palm.

ALSO. A L S O

I imagine Jazz has magnets in the gloves of his suit. So! Not only Prowl can carry him around but also Jazz can just stick himself to Prowls plates haha

Prowl: Where tf are you

Jazz, crawling on Prowls back: I’m Spider man

Another Cybertonians react to this the same way people do when they see a spider on someone’s shoulder btw~

[renstardust]

Two months.

It had been exactly two months since you fled the First Order, leaving behind your life as Apprentice beneath Commander Ren.

You left without any trace or explanation. Ren assumed you left because you didn’t think anyone would care; that they could track down another dark side loving Force-user with ease. He worried that maybe, you thought you were disposable.

It’s not like the lingering glances or touches between you and your Master meant anything anyway — it was all just business. Neither of you had time for feelings or any of that soft shit.

He assumed you’d think he wouldn’t care if you left. That if anything, he’d probably be relieved. That he could find someone older, stronger, more serious about being in one of the most sought after positions in the galaxy.

Kylo was losing his fucking mind, actually.

The worst part was that he could feel you. Everywhere. Not just in the Force signature you’d left behind that lingered in the cold, metal hallways of the Supremacy, or in your former quarters (the same quarters he now only visits once a day, sometimes twice), but he could feel you, out there, running about.

Driving him utterly insane.

He replayed every little conversation in his head, every moment you’d spent together: training sessions, meditations, meal times, quiet moments in cockpits during missions. Trying to piece together every memory, trying to figure out exactly when and how he screwed up.

What he did — or didn’t do — to keep you.

Losing you made Kylo realize how deeply he actually felt about you. The sound of your voice that he felt soothed by, the way your black clothes hugged your body in a manner that would make his pants feel uncomfortably tight, how graceful and calculative your combat skills looked, both in training and actual fights.

He missed the warmth of your scent. The softness of your hair. Those beautiful fucking eyes. Your little quirks, your sense of humor, your confidence, your occasional stubbornness, your persistence.

Gods, he missed you. You haunted his dreams, interrupted his meditation sessions, caused a tightness in his chest that hasn’t disappeared since the day you were suddenly gone.

As if you were never here to begin with.

Kylo’s lip trembled, tears pricking at his hazel eyes as he sat in his quarters after a particularly rough day of training with the Knights. He shook his head, shoving his feelings aside, including the everlasting urge to go sit in your old quarters across the hall and try to smell the barely-there scent of your perfume. He still hasn’t let the cleaning droids come near that room.

Was he….grieving you?

Should he go looking for you? Maybe he could coax you back-

“Why is everyone being a dick to me today?”

Your voice suddenly filled his quarters, pulling him from his daze, the metal door sliding shut behind you. Kylo blinked, tense as ever, quickly rising from his seat and adjusting himself. His eyes were wide, eyebrows furrowed, lips parted.

“I get it, I took a little leave to visit my family, but I really needed it, and I’m glad I did it. Two months without my datapad was really refreshing too. It’s not my fault everyone else here is married to their job.”

Kylo cleared his throat, confused as all hell.

“Apprentice-“

“Especially Hux! He looked at me like I was a ghost. I get that we aren’t on the greatest terms, but he could’ve at least acknowledged me with a nicety.”

“APPRENTICE.”

Your lips snapped shut, eyes widening at your Master’s stern, husky voice. The extra deep version that you only heard when he was at his breaking point.

“What, Kylo?”

“Where the hell have you been?”

“…On vacation? I sent everyone notice like three weeks before I left. And the night before…?”

“Nobody knew you went on vacation.”

“But Officer Mitaka told me to have fun before I left.”

A beat of silence. A creak of leather in Kylo’s gloved hands, now squeezing into big fists. Tight, trembling fists.

“Which database did you forward the notice to?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Eleven. I usually message in eleven.”

“Highest ranking officials message in database thirteen, Apprentice.”

Your pupils dilate, lips parting. “Fuck, is that why none of you guys reacted to the pictures I sent?”

Kylo didn’t know whether he wanted to kill you, or take you right then and there. Irritation and relief pulsed through his body simultaneously as he took in slow breaths of frustration. He was fucking pissed.

And so, so fucking happy.

You were here.

You never really left.

Kylo pulled his lips into his mouth, eyes darkening before he responded. “Medbay. Now. Let’s go.”

“Why?”

“I’m getting you tagged, Apprentice.”

[aventurineswife]

Hello earthian!! Can I request where aventurine, ratio, and whatever characters u wanna add with their kid begging for a sibling. This idea occupied my mind for days^^

“I want a sibling!”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Fluff, Humor, Established Relationship, Parenting, Suggestive Themes, Family Dynamics, Light Angst(?), Playful Banter.

Warnings: Mildly Suggestive Content (Implied intimacy), Parent-Child Discussion of Siblings (Handled in a light and humorous tone), Reader Embarrassment, Mentions of Childhood Loneliness (in the context of the child wanting a sibling), Reader is referred to as 'Renny' as a gender-neutral term for mom or dad.

The soft clink of bracelets echoed in the room as Aventurine leaned against the edge of the grandiose dining table, his signature smile curving on his lips. His eyes sparkled as he watched your child, a spirited seven-year-old with eyes like his, puff out their chest in determination.

“Papa,” the child declared, stomping a tiny foot for emphasis, “I want a sibling! Someone to play cards with me—and win! Renny's too busy, and you always say you’re unbeatable!”

You nearly choked on your tea, coughing violently as heat flushed to your face. “W-Well, sweetie,” you stammered, setting down your cup, “it’s not… it’s not that simple!”

Aventurine’s grin widened as he crouched to your child’s eye level. “Oh, is that so?” he purred, a teasing lilt in his voice. “You’re requesting an addition to our little family? Quite the gamble, don’t you think?”

The child’s eyes sparkled. “I’m serious, Papa! You said you’re good at making plans. Make a sibling plan!”

You buried your face in your hands, muttering, “I’m going to die of embarrassment.”

Aventurine chuckled and ruffled the child’s hair. “Alright, little one. I’ll talk to your parent about… the logistics.”

The child beamed, clapping their hands before darting off, presumably to draw up a “sibling plan” themselves.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Aventurine rose, striding over to you with that infuriatingly charming smirk. “Logistics, hmm?” he murmured, his hands finding your waist.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, though your voice lacked conviction.

“Oh, but I think it’s worth discussing,” he whispered, leaning close until his lips brushed your ear. “After all, I am very good at planning... and execution.”

You swatted at his chest, your face burning hotter than the Sigonian desert. “You’re impossible!”

“And yet,” he teased, pulling you closer, “you still can’t resist me.”

The evening was calm in Ratio’s study, the golden hues of a setting sun casting a warm glow over the shelves lined with books and artifacts. You were seated comfortably in an armchair, flipping through a datapad, while Ratio scribbled something in his journal, his violet hair catching the light.

Your child burst in, their eyes filled with excitement. “Daddy! Renny!” they called, rushing over to Ratio’s desk.

Ratio set down his pen, tilting his head curiously. “Yes, little scholar?”

“I want a sibling,” the child announced, planting their hands firmly on the desk. “It’s boring being an only kid. Everyone else at school has brothers or sisters!”

You blinked, stunned by their bluntness. “Oh… well… that’s…”

Ratio leaned back in his chair, one hand thoughtfully stroking his chin. “Interesting proposition,” he mused, his tone as serious as if the child had asked him to solve a mathematical theorem. “Have you considered the variables involved?”

The child frowned. “What’s a variable?”

“Time, energy, resources,” Ratio said, ticking off on his fingers. “And, most importantly, whether your parent and I agree to the hypothesis.”

Your face turned scarlet. “Veritas!”

He smirked slightly, meeting your gaze. “Am I wrong?”

The child tilted their head, clearly not grasping the layers of meaning in his words. “So… does that mean yes?”

Ratio chuckled, patting the child’s head. “It means your parent and I need to conduct… further discussions. Why don’t you go revise your spelling words while we deliberate?”

With a satisfied nod, the child ran off, leaving the study in blissful silence.

You crossed your arms, glaring at your husband. “Further discussions? Really?”

Ratio stood, his hair falling into his eyes as he approached you with a teasing smirk. “I see no flaws in their logic,” he said, leaning close enough that you could see the gold flecks in his eyes. “Perhaps we should test their hypothesis.”

You groaned, covering your face. “I can’t believe you’re entertaining this.”

“I’m merely responding to a valid inquiry,” he replied smoothly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His voice dipped lower, sending a shiver down your spine. “But… I admit, I’m curious to see how this experiment might unfold.”

Your protest died in your throat as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing yours.

“Veritas…” you murmured, half-exasperated, half-enchanted.

He pulled back slightly, his smirk deepening. “Shall we begin our research?”

[captainseamech]

//ooo you wanna get in the Transformers fandom so bad oooooo you wanna write with my ocean man ooooooo

[revelboo]

Alright which fragger is gonna be the one who starts spreading human valve is good propaganda? Wheeljack and Constructicons are builders for human houses. I’m imagining a little catalogue or file being sent spread anonymously to all the bots on earth and more about human mate and their needs. Primus, is Optimus going to the leader who first ends up with a interface/sex scandal? Walked/ran on by humans and doing a psa about it, or is going back for double points for Megatron and being sparked up by a human? Regardless the G1/IDW Revelbooverse is unhinged and I love it. Thank you for giving us this gorgeous Fuckery.

I’m just having fun, but honestly, I can see Thundercracker writing and anonymously sending out a human care manual just on blast. Bots and Cons both

So You Have A Human

Thundercracker x Reader

So you have a human or are thinking of acquiring one. Stop. Humans require a lot of care and attention. They’re social and need to be kept entertained. Before committing to finding a human, maybe use a holomatter avatar to go out among them and observe. Don’t try to touch or grab them, though. They will attack. Another less hands on way to research is to check out human media.

If you’ve decided you do want a human partner, understand how fragile they are. They scare easily, so understand how intimidating you are. You’re much bigger than they are. Don’t pick them up by their limbs or you can break those delicate bones. Cup them in your hands, keeping your grip loose so they don’t panic, but not so loose they can wiggle free and fall. They’ll die if they fall out of your hands. Don’t chase them down, you can actually scare humans to death as strange as that sounds.

Humans need organic foodstuffs and access to clean water. Just because something is organic, doesn’t mean that they can consume it. Please, find and retrieve foodstuffs meant for human consumption, don’t scavenge in the outdoors for them. They’re picky eaters.

Is your human a bit skittish? They tend to be cold in temperatures comfortable to Cybertronians, so coax your human into sleeping on your chassis. It gets them used to you much faster, letting them get comfortable with the sound of your spark. Make sure you talk to them. Ask them questions and get to know them. They need to socialize.

Interfacing with organics is taboo. And that’s an outdated belief. Humans are amazing. Court your human with little treats. Flowers. Snacks. Some of them adore sparkly ornaments. But make your intentions clear. Don’t just whip out your spike and hope for the best. Build a relationship first.

So you’ve successfully won your human over and you’re both comfortable with each other. Time to mass shift to their level. Humans kiss like we do. They interface like we do. Take your time exploring your partner with servos and your mouth. Try to take it slow so you don’t overwhelm them, because even mass shifted, Cybertronians are still much bigger.

Humans are incredibly flexible, but be sure to check with your human frequently. Make sure they’re comfortable. You’ll need to be patient, and properly prepare your human before you can-

• Head lifting sleepily from where you’re sprawled on him, you reach to tap a finger against the datapad he’s frantically typing alien glyphs on. “What are you smiling about?” Oh. Now he’s embarrassed, wings shifting at his back where they’re partially pinned under him. What is he writing? Because he’s acting like he got caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing, won’t even meet your eyes. “Alright. Keep your secrets, but if you’re writing smut about us, you better change our names.”

• Reaching to stroke your cheek, he saves his work and sets it aside. And mass shifts, smiling when you gasp and grab at him. “It’s not like that. I just- there’s a lot of us with humans now and I thought I’d explain some stuff. You know, so there’s not any mistakes or accidents. Misunderstandings.” And you lean up on him, mouth brushing his. Servos threading into your hair as his other hand rests on your hip. Because this means everything. This intimacy.

• “As long as you’re not encouraging your people to go snatch mine,” you say, lips ghosting over his before you sit up on him. “You’re not, right?” And he immediately shakes his head, the tension spilling out of you. A little heads up on taking care of humans definitely couldn’t hurt. You know there are other humans here, but the Decepticons are weirdly protective of their humans and don’t seem to trust each other that much. “I still want to round all the humans here up. Humans need other humans. No offense.” His palm slides up your side, touch almost reverent.

• “I’m trying,” he replies. Because for you? If you need to spend time with other humans, he wants you to. Wants you to have whatever you want. “You know I’d do anything for you.” Loves you too much to deny you anything.

[quixotical-lymbo]

Helloooo! I've never requested before... so this is my first time. (Is this how I request? I'm still clueless with Tumblr)

If you can! Could you do TFO Sentinel Prime x Advisor Cybertronian Reader? 😽

Pairing: Sentinel Prime x gn!advisor!Reader Rating: SFW-ish Summary: Working to keep the city of Iacon running as efficiently as possible proves to be difficult when the bot in charge has a tendency to throw a wrench in your plans. Warnings/Tags: cybertronian reader, implied toxic dynamics, brief mention of vomiting, one-sided attraction, or is it?, and corruption. Word Count: 1400+ words 

Digits danced along the bright screen detailing the reports of data collected from the guards overseeing the mines. Your optics brightened as you processed the numbers and spotted a few increases. 

Shifting your weight from pede to pede, your lower derma was bitten as you narrowed in on the section of the report where the increase was evident. 

This meant another promotion was on the horizon, perhaps you should schedule a meeting with-

The datapad in your servos disappeared and when you snapped your gaze to glare at the thief, the heat of your glare was extinguished into an optic ridge lifting as your helm craned to look up at the face of your superior who came into view. 

"___." Hearing your destination roll off his glossa felt like a group of scraplets biting at your circuits. Eating away at you until you're nothing left but an empty husk of everything wrong with you. 

"...Sentinel," You greeted with a nod. Your optics locked onto the datapad before switching between the device and his face. Your arm lifted briefly as your digits curled slightly toward the pad. "May I…?" 

"Oh…this thing?" Sentinel rose the datapad above his helm, knowing your stature couldn't reach such heights. "You want this…why?" 

"It is mine." 

"And?" 

"I need it, sir." 

"Is that so?" Sentinel observed the way your dermas pursed and digits flexed stiffly. The mech felt a warm fuzzy feeling erupt in his chassis in seeing you squirm within his presence. The tip of his glossa swiped over his bottom derma, "Y'know, I've been meaning to ask you a few things and I think this is the perfect time to do so!" 

"But I-" 

"-what do you do in your spare time? Me, I like to…"

You squeezed your optics shut and blocked out the sound from your audials. Your fears grew as Sentinel turned on his heel and walked away with your datapad in servo. 

You really needed it back to be able to continue your work. Without the sensitive information on your personal datapad, you wouldn't be able to sit still for the rest of the chord unless you did something productive for the day.

"...___? You there?" 

You snapped out of your stupor and stared dumbly as Sentinel rose his own optic ridge. The corner of his intake curved upward as he shook the datapad in his servo, "Come on, I gotta show you something." 

Despite the alarm bells going off in your processor, you obeyed his silent order and followed him to his office. The large room made you visibly shrink into yourself as memories from long ago flashed in your helm.

This was the place that was a stark reminder of where you learned...that for the first time. 

 

"Where are we going, ma'am?" 

Airachnid didn't turn to look at you, not that she needed to, and simply said, "You'll see." 

You looked around the unfamiliar area. Weird, thin blade-like things sprouted from the ground and were abundant in the mountainous terrain the two of you were trekking on. 

You were halted by a servo placed in front of your chassis and when you glanced up to see Airachnid's digit pointing in a direction you followed it to see-

Your intake twisted in knots.

Sentinel, Quintessons, ships, so many ships. 

Your internal fans kicked in as your frame began heating up. You felt dizzy, nauseous even, and you somehow found the strength to lock your blurry optics to the larger femme.

The corners of her dermas stretched upward. 

You turned your helm and vomited. 

You flinched when a heavy servo landed on your shoulder pad.

"Ah!" You stumbled forward as Sentinel pushed you along toward the large windows overlooking the city. You stood straight when the servo on your shoulder lowered to the area just above your aft. 

A shudder dragged its cold digit up your back strut. The false Prime's laugh brought forth a second. 

"It's been sometime since you became my assistant, huh?" Sentinel began. "I remember the first time I met you! Heh, can't believe you couldn't look at me in the optic because of how nervous you were…but after you warmed up to me, you were quite the yapper." 

You acknowledged his words with a nod. The digits rubbing against your back paused as the expression on Sentinel's face plate darkened. 

"I missed that." 

You broke your neutral expression to look at him. 

"You, being chatty and all, now you're….boring," Sentinel patted your aft and snickered when you jumped. He turned away from you and walked over to his desk, plopping on the chair he threw the datapad on his desk and slightly shifted his legs to leave them comfortably spread. 

"What changed?" As if feigning ignorance, the mech had the nerve to appear sad. 

You stalled for a moment, optics shifting and digits digging into the palm of your servos, "I…um, got busy. It's no easy feat helping someone like you–"

Sentinel's optics narrowed and you quickly sputtered out, "-someone as famous, uh, fabulous, and..um…and well-loved run a city!" 

"Ok, ok, I get it, really." Sentinel Prime waved a servo. "You're…'busy.'" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Hm." Sentinel's optics racked over your frame. "You work a lot so you must be tired, c'mere and get off your pedes for a while." 

"Oh, I shouldn't." 

"I don't remember asking, ___." Sentinel moved one servo to rest on his lap. "Sit." 

You inched over to the desk and made your way around it, but your wrist was caught and before you knew it, you stumbled back and fell onto the mech's lap. You immediately moved to get off but an arm snaked around your midsection plating and caged you against a broad chassis. The heat radiating off of the mech behind you caused you to stiffen. 

"There you go, sweetspark." Sentinel cooed. "Let's continue where we left off, 'kay?"

"Now, what's so important it's managed to steal your attention away from me?" 

"...there's been an increase in miner productivity," You mumbled. 

"...that's what's got you in a tizzy?" Sentinel mulled over what you said before peeking over at the datapad disregarded at the corner of his desk. A noise left him as he nodded, "Oh, right…the method you mentioned in the last meeting we had…it worked?" 

"Yes," You slowly crept out of your shell. "Allowing the miners to work without tight restrictions, more breaks, and even adding more recreational areas for their enjoyment has yielded good results." 

You paused to check Sentinel's face plate. He was leaning back against the chair, the side of his helm resting against two digits as a soft smile etched onto his dermas. When you hesitated, Sentinel gestured for you to continue as his other servo rested on your hip. 

"...and I-" You continued after gaining the green-light and divulged into your plan. Sometimes, you would catch the blue and gold mech glancing between your animated servos and the lower half of your face plate. Despite this, you felt…safe. Safe enough to ramble on and on about your plans and future aspirations for the city. 

"...and I've been thinking, why not try to use some of my free time to look through our database to find information on where the matrix is-" 

The servo on your hip dug into your plating causing you to hiss. Sentinel heard and removed his servo from you, "Ah, sorry." 

He didn't sound like he meant it. 

"Matrix?" Sentinel inquired with a loop-sided grin. "You what to try and…find it?" 

"Well, maybe, I don't know the logistics, but if I can find a lead maybe you won't have to continue the deal with-" 

"-shh, shh, shh," Sentinel cupped the side of your face and leaned down. The distance between you two caused your optics to grow in size, you don't even know if you're breathing anymore. 

"Let's talk about something other than work…hey, what kind of drink do you like? Wait, wait,  better yet, let me get us some. I'll buy the whole bar out." 

You couldn't find the words to deny his request and watched as Sentinel pressed a digit to the side of his helm to comm some bot to bark his request. 

 

…this'll be a long evening. 

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