#Armor Lubricants

[uesp]

Did You Know: Essentially every part of a troll has known valuable applications? Troll blood can be used as an alchemical ingredient. Troll skulls are a popular decoration, and can even be used as a helmet. Troll bones and skin can be used for crafting. Troll teeth make good jewelry, and even weapons. Troll fur acts as excellent fire kindling, can also be woven into napkins, or just used by itself to keep warm. If someone could ever figure out how to cook it, troll meat is a hypothetical infinite food source. Troll brains can be used to make soup. Troll spit can be used to improve weapon grip, or for binding books. Troll dung can be used as a fertilizer.

And then there is of course troll fat. Beyond its own well known alchemical applications, you can use it as a perfect cold weather lubricant. You can use it to polish armor. You can use it at the entrances to your house to repel vermin. You can dry it and eat it or add it to other food (although it will make it taste like feet). You can boil it into glue. You can turn it into candles. You can even rub it on an idol of Malacath to have a conversation with the Daedric Prince.

#uesp #the elder scrolls #lore #did you know #elder scrolls online #skyrim #daggerfall #oblivion #morrowind #arena

[whiskeynwriting]

Uncommon Intimacy

Black Noir x Female Reader

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Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) 

Dirty talk, praise kink, male and female masturbation, phone sex/sexting, descriptions/mentions of oral (m and f receiving), sub/dom dynamics, established relationship, some fluffies, ASL usage.

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A/N: Baby baby BABY I MISSED YOUUUU

Also, thank you @thesleepingmusicneek for beta-reading 😊❤️

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Black Noir Masterlist 

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“Noir, baby,” Huffing out a dramatic breath, you toss your head back. “Please.”

Pathetic in nature, both your small sound and theatrical movement, you know it does nothing to win him over. Noir’s shoulders jerk slightly, rising and falling from the humor he finds in your current state. But he doesn’t judge you, he adores you.

“Baby, can I take off my panties?”

Lifting your head, you’re met with the incredibly erotic sight of him, yet again. Sitting in that black office chair, surrounded by nothing but the basic amenities of his hotel room. As usual, that second skin is on, his hardened suit and sleek, black armor. Although, one piece is missing. 

“Please?” Asking again, your eyes focus on his hands, watching intently.

He’s made himself comfortable, laying back in the chair and slouching slightly as he touches himself. Noir always started out with a gradual pace, fisting himself with long, slow strokes. He looks so full, and if you watch for long enough, you’re sure to see him throb. His tip is already leaking, small droplets of precum sliding down his shaft in a way that makes your mouth water. And you stare openly, wantonly; you’ve missed him far too much to be shameful of your needs.

“Don’t you want to see me?” You plead, breathing heavily. You’re rubbing your palm over the space between your legs, he’d allowed that much. The only fabric between you and your hand is that of your panties and it makes you ache, the wet spot on the very center of them only growing with each passing moment. 

“Don’t you want to see how wet you make me?” 

At this, Noir tilts his head. You should know taunting doesn’t work on him. 

With a defeated and aggravated sigh, you throw your head back again. Even when you’re not looking at him, you can hear the subtle squelch as he moves his hand. Using his gloved thumb, he spreads the clear liquid around his head, taking advantage of the natural lubrication as he speeds up his motions, drawing your attention again. 

“Baby…” 

Reaching down with his other hand, Noir cups his scrotum, rolling the tender flesh in his palm while his head drops back with a light groan. He does this while he continues to fist himself, his hips bucking slightly from the stimulation. 

Tonight’s call started with just a few small texts; you telling Noir how much you missed him, asking about the conference and what he had been up to. 

Shifting slightly, he readjusts in his chair, slouching back more and in turn shoving his hips closer to the screen. His head is still back, both hands continuing to work his most sensitive parts. And he does it all through his laptop, touching himself while you watch through your screen. 

You’re aching for something and still, you wait for him, you’re always such a good girl for him. Whatever he asked of you, you did. You touched him just how he liked, when he liked. You undressed yourself when told to, you touched your tits when told to, you pushed one and then two fingers past your slippery lips when he told you to. And when you’re like this, it makes him proud. 

Helplessly, you whimper, inadvertently pulling him back to the most magnificent memories. You’d been apart for weeks and on nights where you fell asleep before he came back to his hotel room, they’re all he was left with when allowing himself release. He never liked to look at any pictures or videos that weren’t of you. There was one specific memory that he’d gone back to far more than the others; the night you had together before he left. He’d stripped you bare, cupping your tits until he nodded at you, telling you to lay down and play with them. It intrigued Noir, seeing how you liked to be touched. He grabbed your thighs while you did it, wrenching them apart before his fingers played with your lips. Specifically though, he’s thinking about what happened before this, just before he’d pulled you into your bedroom to have you. When he got home that day, you were already waiting for him. You’d been dressed in a simple, black lingerie set he’d bought you a while back; it’s his favorite one, it looks stunning on you. The sight alone made his knees weak, and when you took him by the hand to lead him over to the couch, he all but crumbled at your feet. He sat back, legs spread wide while you removed the armor around his pelvis. One of your best sexual talents was oral, he’d never met anyone who swallowed him like you do. And you loved to play with his balls, too, not dissimilar to the way he’s playing with them now. You loved to hold them while you sucked on his tip, fondle them with your fingers and palm while going down on him. One of his favorite moves was when you lowered yourself to suck on them, jerking him off in your hand while staring up at his mask. That always made him cum, and thinking about it now makes his hips rut up into the hole of his fist.

Noir can see the dampness on your panties when he lifts his head, groaning when he watches you rub yourself again. It seemed a little oldschool, but Noir loved doing this on your laptops; it gave him the quickest opportunity to send a message if and when he wanted to. Which he does right now.

Wider.

“Yeah? You want to see more?” Tilting your head with a small, almost bashful grin, Noir watches as your legs shift. But they don’t spread.

Impatiently, he releases himself, now using his hands to communicate with you. He often did this when becoming irritated, at least in these situations. He wasn’t asking anymore, he was demanding. And while Noir lacked the ability to offer facial expressions, using his hands to communicate could still be effective in certain instances. Repeating the word with his physical motions, Noir brings both fists toward each other, his pointer knuckles extended a bit. His left hand is then sternly dragged away, almost as if he were pulling an invisible string straight across his chest.

It makes you shiver, seeing his biceps bulge from it, those gloves fingers wrapping around himself as he settles down again. Doing as he says, you part your legs, now wide enough for him to fully see your dripping secret. And as soon as you do it, he’s grabbing himself with both hands, chest tightening from your promiscuous act. Running two fingers down your center, you can practically see Noir’s moan, can see the heavy dip in his chest as it runs up through his throat. He then takes one hand away, keeping one on his cock while gently squeezing the tip.

“Baby, I love watching you do this…” 

For someone that didn’t speak, Noir was surprisingly good at dirty talk. The messages he sent you made you wet for him daily, and it also helped with getting to know what he liked. For instance, you know he likes when you play with your wetness, showing him what he’s done to you. He likes seeing the clear strings connecting your fingertips to your pussy when you finally pull them away. He loves seeing your ass, seeing it move and jiggle, watching you bend over and feeling it slap against his pelvis when you ride him. Noir also liked when you whined, he told you how tiny and helpless it made you sound. 

For just a second, Noir lifts his dominant hand, leaving himself completely unattended. His erection sits against his armored stomach, twitching once while it waits. Briefly, you wonder what he’s doing, but then you hear him spit. The sound is forceful and wet, and when his hand returns, you can see the saliva on his glove. Your airy moan hits the air when he does it, watching his fingers wrap around his swollen length once again. But then he sighs, the end of it turning into a dark groan. Moving backwards slightly, he allows you to see him fully. While he’s still entirely suited, there’s something different about seeing all of him on the screen. The breath he inhaled is released slowly, firmly, his head tilting down as his eyes zero in on you. The air of your encounter shifts. 

“C… can I?” You repeat, this request more timid than the ones before. His gaze is no less than terrifying and intimidating. 

Noir waits for a moment, and so do you, before he finally nods. All at once, relief and excitement flood your body. While pulling your legs up you also reach down, grabbing your panties and sliding them down your legs. You make a little show out of it, your happy smirk visible as you remove them slowly, much slower than he would have done himself. And when they’re off entirely, you plant your feet on either side of the keyboard, displaying your center perfectly. 

Beneath his mask, your lover’s teeth dig into his bottom lip. You’re fucking dripping for him. Your lips are shiny and pink, and he knows you must taste like heaven right now. Usually, you smelled like it too. 

“Thank you,” Comes your breathy expression of gratitude, fingers swirling around your little, reddened bud.

At this point, your eyelids are dipping, only able to focus on the screen while pleasure and excitement begin to consume you. And you know exactly what he means when his next message comes through.

Let me see it.

The laugh you exhale is light and playful, keeping your eyes on him while dipping a single finger inside. And as soon as your expression changes, he rolls his eyes, head lolling to the side.  Removing your finger, you slide them over the seam of your sex before pulling them away, showing him the glistening strands. Christ, you looked so magnificent like this.

“Baby,” Your sudden whine prompts his head to shoot up, looking directly into your eyes. “I miss you, miss having you in my mouth.”

At this, his hand picks up again, moving quicker than before. His deep groans and shallow grunts now begin filtering through the speakers of your laptop, a subtle prompt for you to continue. 

“Love the way you taste on my tongue…” Gently, you rub yourself, applying light pressure in the exact way he would. 

And it’s true, having Noir in your mouth made you satisfied like nothing else. The taste of him on your tongue, his girth weighing heavy as it leaked into your throat… his smell just beneath your nose, thick patches of curls tickling your face whenever you choked. And more often than not, he’d hold you there, only needing one hand to keep you in place. 

In a display of weakness, of emotional vulnerability, Noir whines. His free hand lifts, pointing to his chest and then his chin, before extending that same finger out to you. And inside, your heart bursts for him. He misses you.

“Tell me, baby.”

I mis ur beautifl mouth

His words make you grin - you know when there are errors in his typing, it just means he’s losing focus, getting too wrapped up in the moment, in whatever wondrous activity he’s doing with you. In your mind, it’s almost like he’s stuttering. 

“Ugh,” With soft motions, you sway your hips, sliding a second finger inside and trying to reach as deep as you can. 

Sometimes, Noir could be so sweet with you. He has a plentiful amount of loving nicknames that he used regularly with you. And when he was home, he was ever the doting partner. Everything you could ever want, he gave you. But more important than that, Noir gave you his time, his patience, his love. Things that ran low within him. But he saved every ounce of those traits for you, only you. 

“I need you.”

Soon.

Your lover’s moans then become louder, longer, pumping himself with a rapid fist while watching your fingers disappear between your legs. He can see the tendons in your arm flex when you curl them, the ripple in your thighs when they tense. And he wants nothing more than to grab them, squeeze your sweet flesh and smack your ass until it’s tingly and red.

“Ngh,” 

The sounds Noir makes force your heart rate to skyrocket, and you wish so desperately he were here to feel it, hear it. Noir loved to nuzzle into your neck, rub his nose over your pulse point and listen to your natural reactions with his heightened senses. Moments such as those created a safe space for uncommon intimacy between the two of you.

Want my mout on yyo

“I want that, baby. Fuck, I miss you. I want you so bad, Nori. I’ve really needed you.”

And when he hears these words, hears the emotion behind them, he almost can’t get to the keys fast enough.

I know baby. I know. I’m here, and I’ll be home soon

Home, the space you share with him, the space that lets your walls fall. Not just your own but his; that scary demeanor, cold and dark and ruthless to most. A terrifying shadow but to you, he’s your shadow, your protector and lover and everything good this world has to offer. When Noir is with you, it’s easy to feel safe and cared for; doting on you comes naturally to him.

“Promise?” 

In response, your love lifts his left pointer finger to his covered lips. Then, he brings that same hand down to his other, landing on its open palm in a chop-like motion.

“I love you.”

I love you sweetheart

And then, there’s a pause. The heavy rise and fall of his chest draws your attention, his deep breath, the way his fist tightens around his shaft. 

Now, let’s see my princess cum.

Thank you for ready lovelies!

Some noteworthy considerations...

I am very new to ASL (American Sign Language), but thought introducing it with Noir would be an interesting way to not only be more inclusive to my audience, but to challenge my writing style, too. Please let me know if I got anything wrong, or if you think I could have described something better in a different way! I want to be respectful to the Deaf Community and ASL users as a whole!

Lastly, all ASL interpretation pictures were made by me 😊

#Black Noir #I really need you #Noriiii #you're so sexy and cute #Black Noir x you #Black Noir x reader #Black Noir x female reader #Black Noir smut #Black Noir fluff #The Boys #The Boys fanfiction

[charseraph]

The River Jordan and Sweetpea are electric engines on the first railway on Mars.

River Jordan was the first one built, being the product of a collaboration between the nations who established the colony.

Sweetpea was donated by a coronal aerospace guild and assembled onsite. Her parts were imported and her blueprints were crownmade, so her visage is coronal.

Visage and the nature of living transport

Engines take the image of their creators. Their faces are not organic, and are more like a vessel for helpful senses and communication tools.

They come alive soon after they are built, once out of eyeshot for any moment. Attempts to stare at a new engine to see it stir are foiled somehow (blinks, saccades, CCTV malfunction, momentary lapse in attention). Not all engines come alive, as their animacy is often (but not always) decided by the intent of the builder.

Living engines can assess their circumstances and make judgements based on them. They are useful in volatile situations as an expert second opinion on conduct and design, and are capable of sensing external and internal problems quickly.

In calmer periods, they may not get adequate stimulation, and their personalities may interfere with their efficiency. For this reason, railways have their preferences when they build and purchase engines.

The facial material ends at the surface of the machine and is inscrutable in composition—the material appears to be made of itself, and is unusable for any other purpose besides as an engine’s interface with the world. If damaged, the material heals. If removed, it disappears. The conceptual self-referentiality of engines’ faces, souls, and senses deter scrutiny.

Living machines exist as a fact of the universe. Their animacy is cloaked in an analysis-averting antimeme.

Human Engines

Engines designed and built by humans possess dual-pinhole pupils that dilate into an elliptical shape, granting them a broad field of view and tolerance of rapid changes in light levels (such as in going in and out of tunnels). Deep set zygomata allow them to look directly to their sides, and with the dual-pinhole setup, they maintain some depth perception in monocular sight. Their pupil shapes are hidden by their black irises, which absorb glare. They can see clearly to their front and sides, but can’t see up or down very well. A tapetum lucidum retroreflects incoming light back through their retinas, granting them vision in darkness. The nictitating membranes and long eyelashes protect the eyes from dust.

The chemicals engines are capable of detecting are relevant to their purpose, e.g. distinguishing coal, gasoline, diesel, and wood fires from their smoke but not being able to distinguish or detect food smells. Similar to how cats, obligate carnivores, have lost their ability to taste sugar due to its absence in their diet, but can taste ATP for its presence in meat—engines can parse environmental and industrial scents, but will have wildly varied responses to food and fragrant compounds, often being unable to notice them.

To investigate an aroma, they slightly lower their bottom lip to take air into their vomeronasal organ located behind the upper incisors.

Engines do not require oxygen, but if debris enters the nasal passage, human engines will sneeze to:

Ensure their voice resonates properly,

Keep their olfactory facilities clean, and

Indicate to engineers that particle buildup may have occurred in other places, such as the boiler tubes for steam engines.

Crown Engines

Just as the tongue is the only colored object on a human engine’s face for distinguishability, so are the teeth on coronal engines. The positions of the upper and lower jaw indicate tone, functioning in communication similarly to eyebrows.

Coronal engine eyes consist of an armored cornea surrounded by a cuticle and muscular eyelid. The cornea moves with the help of the embedded eyestalk supporting it. The cuticle is lubricated with an oil-based film and is less susceptible to irritation than the aqueous solution on human engine eyes. The undersides of the eyelids and surface of the cornea are covered in setae, preventing chafing and reducing airflow on the cornea. The hairs catch debris and are combed out by the lids with a puckering motion.

To make up for unenhanced vision by human engine standards, coronal engine hearing is advanced, allowing the listener to pinpoint sound sources through triangulation of the four inner ears. Coronal engines, too, channel sound through their incisors and into their internal ears via the acoustic windows at the hinge of each jaw.

Coronal engines achieve their sense of industrial smell through the gustatory papillae that line their choana and pharynx. They supplement their olfaction by introducing cool air behind the heat pits inside their nares.

Coronal engines’ thermoception is more efficient than living crowns, as coronal engines’ faces do not produce heat nearly proportional to their mass.

Conversely, the tines heat up significantly hotter than the crown average for unambiguity in temperature tones. The origin of the tine thermal energy appears to be redirected from excess produced by the machinery, or from the face’s temperature directly.

Extramodal senses

Engines are capable of listening from within their cabs with greater acuity than mere conduction of sound through the body would suggest. Other unsubstantiated sensory abilities include:

Discernment of water/fuel quality within the framework of taste though intake alone

Somatosensory awareness in the entire body, not just the face

#BOA #the railway series #<- my cover all tag #the river jordan #sweetpea #crowns #my art #speculative biology #This is an AU of my sci fi story #thomas and friends

[dayacakrawala]

Όπτιμους ἀνέστη! Happy Easter. I will burn in hell.

TFP Optimus gives a messy egg-birth. Ratchet is here too.

Flying into the Well of All Sparks, Optimus was ready to sacrifice himself, or at least what he's grown used to think of as himself, his frail, mortal form of metal and wires. He was prepared to merge with Primus. Apparently, Primus had other plans.

It started with warm airflow embracing him near the end of the Well, permeating his armor like it was paper thin, overwhelming him, igniting and soothing at the same time, and finally carrying him lightly back to the surface. It continued with his friends' confused happiness. And this new fuzzy feeling, and Ratchet's concern, and a discovery. Oh, the discovery. Optimus Prime not only came back alive. He came back full of eggs.

Living, precious sparks, nested in their vacuoles and soft, translucent shells, were growing inside his gestation tank. The organ designed to incubate one to several eggs has expanded to embrace the holy gift. Ratchet tried to count them but failed. There were just a lot, mostly blue, but some green, pink, and yellow.

Ratchet's medical fascination mixed with religious awe. The more he observed and studied the unique case of his Prime, the deeper it got, even though he had to face things that had to be left out of the equation for others. Medical confidentiality was a thing when it came to Optimus' increasing sexual appetite, to him constantly being on the verge of arousal due to being stuffed in a quite pleasurable way, to his gestation tank pressing on his waste reservoir and making the messiah of Primus visit the waste receiver twice a day. Optimus' increased energon consumption was less of a sensitive issue, yet he was still uncomfortable drinking this much openly, so Ratchet had to watch him fuel in private to control his ration.

So much stayed behind the closed doors of the medbay during Optimus' daily scheduled check-ups. So many little… inconveniences.

When Ratched had Optimus in the examination chair once again, everything seemed noticeably more intense. Optimus seemed more nervous and tired, and he told Ratchet about feeling so full that he was afraid to move. Even his waist plating looked slightly pushed from the inside. He lubricated copiously, letting out oily pink droplets, and the valve visibly throbbed so hard Ratchet called for all his medical professionalism not to growl in frustration and want. He was lying to himself about it being just fascination and awe. Fascination and awe never leave you with your spike in hand after your friend's and leader's daily check-up, moaning and thinking about his heavily pregnant tank.

Ratchet prepared the endoscope, and Optimus tensed. "It's going in," Ratchet informed him, trying to sound calm.

When the head of the endoscope touched the eagerly unfurling petals of Optimus' valve, there was a sound of a small piece of armor retracting. Ratchet tried not to stare at the spike pressurizing, instead focusing on Optimus' frantic apologies. It's alright. They'd been there. No need to feel ashamed. But holy Primus, fuck, how big this spike was, and how big the valve below was, and how smoothly it took the endoscope.

"Ratchet, please, stop." He complied immediately, detecting almost pleading undertones in the strained low voice. Optimus growled, and his hips jerked uncontrollably, grinding on the probing device. "I'm sorry, but I feel like my waste tank may give. The sparks are pressing on it."

"Then we should empty it before it's damaged," Ratchet told him, the phrasing felt odd and ridiculous but was aimed to comfort Optimus, highlighting him being aided and taken care of. The endoscope slid slowly in and out, stimulating the nodes where the tube connecting the waste tank with a small nozzle next to the valve lay close to the inner interface equipment, intertwined with its tubing and energon lines.

Optimus shuddered, and moaned, and started pouring the floor before the examination chair with periwinkle blue fluid. It arched between his legs, soiling Ratchet's hand still holding the endoscope. It wasn't the first time a patient voided the doctor, damn, they've been through the war quite horror-rich, but it was the first time Ratchet didn't really mind.

"I need a sample anyway," he said, grabbing a test tube from a tray and catching the stream with it. It did little to dispel Optimus' embarrassment, but at least it was true and gave Ratchet his pitiful excuse to watch closely his Prime peeing with, with the endoscope inside, open, ready to lay his blessed eggs.

Oh yes, he was ready. As soon as he stopped emptying himself and Ratchet took his hand away to clean it alongside the tool, his body spasmed like it was welcoming a long-denied overload. "Ratchet, I feel my destination almost…" He groaned, not from pain. "They are coming, I cannot hold them anymore."

"No, damn, Optimus, w-wait a minute!"

Ratchet rushed to the shelf, where awaited the basket, voluminous enough to accommodate a prime clutch and padded with soft material. Two seconds later, he found Optimus mindlessly stroking his spike, trying to distract himself and relieve the tension at the same time. His plating noisily rattled against the chair, his broken whimpers made Ratchet's mind dizzifyingly spin and Ratchet's panels open, but Ratchet was left with little time to care. He saw Optimus' valve squirting a jet of lubricant, his whole body contracting, and a first butch of divine eggs falling wetly into the basket.

They were magnificent. Glowing, warm, colorful, fertilized by Primus, and coming from Optimus' overloading valve. Ratchet didn't hear his own praises and prayers, only Optimus' powerful engine roaring, his cooling fans whirring, his shaky in-vents, and beautiful strangled grunts escaping his voice box.

With his own spark pulsing and his spike throbbing, Ratchet held the basket with one hand, using the other to touch the seam between Optimus' thigh and hip plating to draw attention to himself. "You alright, Optimus? Any pain now?"

"I am fine, my friend. How are… they?"

"Perfect, you… You are doing wonderful," Ratchet reassured, the container in his hand was getting heavier and heavier. Optimus' hand never left his own spike, and Ratchet surrendered too. Powerless before the spectacle of life and pleasure and how badly it aroused him, he placed the basket on the floor, right in the puddle, and quickly stroked himself until the blinding overload made him moan and grab Optimus' leg.

It took a couple minutes more and two more small overloads for Optimus to tense in a final one, his spike spilling intensely, his frame using every output to dump the charge. He was crying.

The basket was full, the eggs piled in it, glowing. Each spark was visible inside, each had its own unique song. Ratchet and Optimus, both calming down, could already sense their energy and life.

A gift, a treasure. The future.

#transformers #valveplug #tfp #optimus prime #ratchet #primus #mech preg #egg preg #medical kink #piss kink #wasteplay #easter #immaculata conceptio #virgin birth

[valve3nthusiast]

Hey hey, hey, minimus in the Magnus armor with a huge dildo trapped in his valve. Maybe for his systems to run optimally he needs to get rid of his charge regularly (read: tyrest says he HAS to masterbate regularly and record it to ensure the armor syncs up correctly. I love tyrest being a little creep when it comes to Ultra Magnus/the loadbearers) so he follows the rules and has a scheduled time for it. And then, in the middle of sinking down on a dildo that stretches his valve almost to its maximum, he gets an emergency call from Rodimus that something is going wrong and Ultra Magnus is needed in the bridge immediately! In his panic to get the bridge he kinda, forgets to pull it out.

He gets to the bridge and the emergency is something stupid they do need him to fix, and it takes FOREVER. It only takes 20 mins but it feels like it takes forever as minimus becomes aware that everytime the armor takes a step it bumps the dildo a little bit. Not enough to make minimus overload, but just enough he can't focus.

But once he finishes fixing the problem a bunch of others things need his attention. Everyone assumes Ultra Magnus is pissed off because he's just stone faced and completely silent as he helps out, but the real problem is Minimus can't talk without moaning, hes so close to an overload. And he still has a couple hours of things to fix before he can go back to his room

Tyrest incel moment

Oagh Mims having to put 100% of his concentration into not making an "I'm about to overload" face as he realizes the machinery of the armor subtly vibrates through the dildo, what feels like directly into his ceiling node

The stupid "emergency" involves a great deal of tracking down various people who are in places they're not supposed to be, which means so much walking. So. Much. Walking. He didn't even shut his modesty panel before he jumped into the armor, not that he could close it over the flared base, and it gently rocks into his valve with every step

Taking stairs is torture. Actual torture. And of course Ultra Magnus always takes the stairs, elevators are for actual emergencies (or those with mobility impairment) and if anyone asks why he's using the elevator, he'd probably moan. He thinks, a little hysterically, that he's going to have to clean lubricant out of the Magnus armor later

#slowly gonna start clearing my inbox. starting with this ask from... december... #valveplug #mine #3nthusiasts inbox #minimus ambus #toys under panels

[pinkanonwrites]

MISFIRE. OOUGH. ok but thinking that hes just being Like That as a bit/for shits n giggles/just to be terrible without any depth to it and egging him on/calling him on his bluff a little. being all giggly and laughing about it, even, because you dont think hes being fully serious. being all gross and sweaty and just wiping a bit off your forehead and flicking it at him as a joke. worse yet throwing your used towel at him and never getting it back/thinking much of it because its a big ship, it probably got lost somewhere, its fine; there's others. he walks in on you brushing your teeth one morning and sees you spit into the sink and his engine revs obnoxiously loud or something. hes so fucking gross (affectionate)

YES YES YES YOU UNDERSTAND MY VISION SO MUCH! He is so gross (the most affection I can muster)

Holding your bath towel to his olfactory sensor and huffing your scent as he wrings his spike with his free servo, soaking the already damp fabric with his oral lubricant as he drools and takes the hem of the towel into his mouth. Waiting until you turn away to drag his glossa over the patch of his armor you've flicked your sweat across, engine rumbling at the sudden sting of salt in his intake.

Being completely baffled when you realize that he's been serious the whole time, cause he thought you knew he was for real and you thought that he knew that you were joking. Actually not caring in the slightest once he has a moment to process it cause you gave him irreplaceable amounts of J.O. material over the past few weeks.

Going all fuzzy and dumb in the processor the first time you actually let him lick you clean after your workout, unable to stifle his moans as his glossa drags under your armpits, across the back of your neck, along your inner thighs. Overloading untouched the first time you tell him to open his intake, only to spit into his open mouth, across his glossa.

#misfire #misfire x reader #x reader #transformers #transformers x reader #valveplug #unsanitary #pink chat #anon #nsft

[kaijuposting]

Jaegers of Pacific Rim: What do we know about them?

There's actually a fair amount of lore about Pacific Rim's jaegers, though most of it isn't actually in the movie itself. A lot of it has been scattered in places like Pacific Rim: Man, Machines, & Monsters, Tales From Year Zero, Travis Beacham's blog, and the Pacific Rim novelization.

Note that I will not be including information from either Pacific Rim: Uprising or Pacific Rim: The Black. Uprising didn't really add anything, and The Black's take on jaegers can easily be summed up as "simplified the concept to make a cartoon for children."

So what is there to know about jaegers, besides the fact that they're piloted by two people with their brains connected via computer?

Here's a fun fact: underneath the hull (which may or may not be pure iron), jaegers have "muscle strands" and liquid data transfer technology. Tendo Choi refers to them in the film when describing Lady Danger's repairs and upgrades:

Solid iron hull, no alloys. Forty engine blocks per muscle strand. Hyper-torque driver for every limb and a new fluid synapse system.

The novelization by Alex Irvine makes frequent references to this liquid data transfer tech. For example:

The Jaeger’s joints squealed and began to freeze up from loss of lubricant through the holes Knifehead had torn in it. Its liquid-circuit neural architecture was misfiring like crazy. (Page 29.)

He had enough fiber-optic and fluid-core cabling to get the bandwidth he needed. (Page 94.)

Newt soldered together a series of leads using the copper contact pins and short fluid-core cables. (Page 96.)

Unfortunately I haven't found anything more about the "muscle strands" and what they might be made of, but I do find it interesting that jaegers apparently have some sort of artificial muscle system going on, especially considering Newt's personnel dossier in the novel mentioned him pioneering research in artificial tissue replication at MIT.

The novelization also mentions that the pilots' drivesuits have a kind of recording device for their experiences while drifting:

This armored outer layer included a Drift recorder that automatically preserved sensory impressions. (Page 16.)

It was connected through a silver half-torus that looked like a travel pillow but was in fact a four-dimensional quantum recorder that would provide a full record of the Drift. (Page 96.)

This is certainly... quite the concept. Perhaps the PPDC has legitimate reasons for looking through the memories and feelings of their pilots, but let's not pretend this doesn't enable horrific levels of privacy invasion.

I must note, though, I haven't seen mention of a recording system anywhere outside of the novel. Travis Beacham doesn't mention it on his blog, and it never comes up in either Tales From Year Zero or Tales From The Drift, both written by him. Whether there just wasn't any occasion to mention it or whether this piece of worldbuilding fell by the wayside in Beacham's mind is currently impossible to determine.

Speaking of the drivesuits, let's talk about those more. The novelization includes a few paragraphs outlining how the pilots' drivesuits work. It's a two-layer deal:

The first layer, the circuity suit, was like a wetsuit threaded with a mesh of synaptic processors. The pattern of processor relays looked like circuitry on the outside of the suit, gleaming gold against its smooth black polymer material. These artificial synapses transmitted commands to the Jaeger’s motor systems as fast as the pilot’s brain could generate them, with lag times close to zero. The synaptic processor array also transmitted pain signals to the pilots when their Jaeger was damaged.

...

The second layer was a sealed polycarbonate shell with full life support and magnetic interfaces at spine, feet, and all major limb joints. It relayed neural signals both incoming and outgoing. This armored outer layer included a Drift recorder that automatically preserved sensory impressions.

...

The outer armored layer of the drivesuit also kept pilots locked into the Conn-Pod’s Pilot Motion Rig, a command platform with geared locks for the Rangers’ boots, cabled extensors that attached to each suit gauntlet, and a full-spectrum neural transference plate, called the feedback cradle, that locked from the Motion Rig to the spine of each Ranger’s suit. At the front of the motion rig stood a command console, but most of a Ranger’s commands were issued either by voice or through interaction with the holographic heads-up display projected into the space in front of the pilots’ faces. (Page 16.)

Now let's talk about the pons system. According to the novelization:

The basics of the Pons were simple. You needed an interface on each end, so neuro signals from the two brains could reach the central bridge. You needed a processor capable of organizing and merging the two sets of signals. You needed an output so the data generated by the Drift could be recorded, monitored, and analyzed. That was it. (Page 96.)

This is pretty consistent with other depictions of the drift, recording device aside. (Again, the 4D quantum recorder never comes up anywhere outside of the novel.)

The development of the pons system as we know it is depicted in Tales From Year Zero, which goes into further detail on what happened after Trespasser's attack on San Francisco. In this comic, a jaeger can be difficult to move if improbably calibrated. Stacker Pentecost testing out a single arm describes the experience as feeling like his hand is stuck in wet concrete; Doctor Caitlin Lightcap explains that it's resistance from the datastream because the interface isn't calibrated to Pentecost's neural profile. (I'm guessing that this is the kind of calibration the film refers to when Tendo Choi calls out Lady Danger's left and right hemispheres being calibrated.)

According to Travis Beacham's blog, solo piloting a jaeger for a short time is possible, though highly risky. While it won't cause lasting damage if the pilot survives the encounter, the neural overload that accumulates the longer a pilot goes on can be deadly. In this post he says:

It won't kill you right away. May take five minutes. May take twenty. No telling. But it gets more difficult the longer you try. And at some point it catches up with you. You won't last a whole fight start-to-finish. Stacker and Raleigh managed to get it done and unplug before hitting that wall.

In this post he says:

It starts off fine, but it's a steep curve from fine to dead. Most people can last five minutes. Far fewer can last thirty. Nobody can last a whole fight.

Next, let's talk about the size and weight of jaegers. Pacific Rim: Man, Machines, & Monsters lists off the sizes and weights of various jaegers. The heights of the jaegers it lists (which, to be clear, are not all of them) range from 224 feet to 280 feet. Their weights range from 1850 tons to 7890 tons. Worth noting, the heaviest jaegers (Romeo Blue and Horizon Brave) were among the Mark-1s, and it seems that these heavy builds didn't last long given that another Mark-1, Coyote Tango, weighed 2312 tons.

And on the topic of jaeger specs, each jaeger in Pacific Rim: Man, Machines, & Monsters is listed with a (fictional) power core and operating system. For example, Crimson Typhoon is powered by the Midnight Orb 9 power core, and runs on the Tri-Sun Plasma Gate OS.

Where the novelization's combat asset dossiers covers the same jaegers, this information lines up - with the exception of Lady Danger. PR:MMM says that Lady Danger's OS is Blue Spark 4.1; the novelization's dossier says it's BLPK 4.1.

PR:MMM also seems to have an incomplete list of the jaegers' armaments; for example, it lists the I-22 Plasmacaster under Weaponry, and "jet kick" under Power Moves. Meanwhile, the novelization presents its armaments thus:

I-22 Plasmacaster Twin Fist gripping claws, left arm only Enhanced balance systems and leg-integral Thrust Kickers Enhanced combat-strike armature on all limbs

The novel's dossiers list between 2-4 features in the jaegers' armaments sections.

Now let's move on to jaeger power cores. As many of you probably already know, Mark-1-3 jaegers were outfitted with nuclear power cores. However, this posed a risk of cancer for pilots, especially during the early days. To combat this, pilots were given the (fictional) anti-radiation drug, Metharocin. (We see Stacker Pentecost take Metharocin in the film.)

The Mark-4s and beyond were fitted with alternative fuel sources, although their exact nature isn't always clear. Striker Eureka's XIG supercell chamber implies some sort of giant cell batteries, but it's a little harder to guess what Crimson Typhoon's Midnight Orb 9 might be, aside from round.

Back on the topic of nuclear cores, though, the novelization contains a little paragraph about the inventor of Lady Danger's power core, which I found entertaining:

The old nuclear vortex turbine lifted away from the reactor housing. The reactor itself was a proprietary design, brainchild of an engineer who left Westinghouse when they wouldn’t let him use his lab to explore portable nuclear miniaturization tech. He’d landed with one of the contractors the PPDC brought in at its founding, and his small reactors powered many of the first three generations of Jaegers. (Page 182.)

Like... I have literally just met this character, and I love him. I want him to meet Newt Geiszler, you know? >:3

Apparently, escape pods were a new feature to Mark-3 jaegers. Text in the novelization says, "New to the Mark III is an automated escape-pod system capable of ejecting each Ranger individually." (Page 240.)

Finally, jaegers were always meant to be more than just machines. Their designs and movements were meant to convey personality and character. Pacific Rim: Man, Machines, & Monsters says:

Del Toro insisted the Jaegers be characters in and of themselves, not simply giant versions of their pilots. Del Toro told his designers, "It should be as painful for you to see a Jaeger get injured as it is for you to see the pilot [get hurt.]" (Page 56.)

Their weathered skins are inspired by combat-worn vehicles from the Iraq War and World War II battleships and bombers. They look believable and their design echoes human anatomy, but only to a point. "At the end of the day, what you want is for them to look cool," says Francisco Ruiz Velasco. "It's a summer movie, so you want to see some eye candy." Del Toro replies, "I, however, believe in 'eye protein,' which is high-end design with a high narrative content." (Page 57.)

THE JAEGER FROM DOWN UNDER is the only Mark 5, the most modern and best all-around athlete of the Jaegers. He's also the most brutal of the Jaeger force. Del Toro calls him "sort of brawler, like a bar fighter." (Page 64.)

And that is about all the info I could scrounge up and summarize in a post. I think there's a lot of interesting stuff here - like, I feel that the liquid circuit and muscle tissue stuff gives jaegers an eerily organic quality that could be played for some pretty interesting angles. And I also find it interesting that jaegers were meant to embody their own sort of character and personality, rather than just being simple combat machines or extensions of their pilots - it's a great example of a piece of media choosing thematic correctness over technical correctness, which when you get right down to it, is sort of what Pacific Rim is really all about.

#pacific rim #pacific rim 2013 #jaegers #jaeger #pacific rim lore

[thewallsaretalking-again]

“HAHAHA! look at his audial finals! Theyre taller than his fraggin' head!"

“Forget the finals length, look at his legs! He’s got SKYSCRAPERS for stabilizing servos!”

The young bots continued to hurl childish insults at Orion, who could do nothing but sit and watch as the loud voices of his peers rang through the hallway, bringing even more attention to the spat. The students had begun to gather around, some of them starting to snicker at the faces Orion made.

It was one of the few days where Orion was outside of the achives; a school day. It was the end of his second week at [REDACTED]. Like many new sparklings, Orion was having a bit of a hard time adjusting to his new environment and schedule: But he had a very different cause for it. Orion was, in human terms, around seven or eight, but he was only now being put into school for the first time. He knew practically nothing compared to other other bitlets his age. This, Again, was common for many sparklings, especially those of the lower castes; But this again brings up many other problems. Orion had spent half of his life tucked away from civilization in the cybertronian wilds, where food was scarce and life was scarcer. Being taken into Iacon city so suddenly had jolted his senses to an overwhelming point, and randomly being taught to talk and how and have manners was almost a breaking point for the young mech.

Now, Orion was facing a new and very real threat; socialization. Alpha Trion had hoped seeing bots his age would relax Orion some; possibly make his feel more at ease; but the opposite had happened. And, unfortunately. this as just the first of many, MANY rough encounters that Orion would have

“Haha…ew, EW! Look at his denta! They’re so sharp! What’s wrong with him?"

"Sweet Solus Prime! His servos are so sharp! Those things could rip a scraplet apart!”

“EEK! He’s looking at me! Get those creepy eyes off me you freak!”

Orion backed up even further as the crowd got closer and closer to him. Hearing himself clang into the corner of the hallway, Orion reached around the wall for something to grab onto. When he found nothing, he clutched his clawed servos to his chest and tried to make himself as small as possible, letting out an animalistic whimper.

The crowd roared with laughter at the strange sound he made, and only continuer to point out the things that were "wrong" with him: His long arms, his thin stature, his lack of armor; on and on the bitlets went, no sympathy running though their systems.

Just as Orion felt the farmiliar prick of tears in his optics, the bell rang, telling the botlings that they could now leave for the day. As the other botlings ran out the door, Orion blinked and lubricant steamed down his face. He stood there thinking of everything his peers had said about him, feeling something twist inside him as he gingerly grabbed his denta. Alpha Trion has always told him that wrongs could be righted… could he right this? This… none of this made sense…

“Hey! Get out of here you little rust stain! Schools out!”

Orion jumped at the obnoxious sound of his teachers voice. He scurried out of the hallway, head spinning, his metaphorical tail between his legs.

(BONUS)

Alpha trions heels clicked as he walked through the hall of records, looking for Orion. He noticed that Orion had been running off with increasing frequency since he bagan school half a cycle ago. Alpha Trion had begun to grow worried; Orion only talked about the things he learned at school and not about his peers or teachers. Not to mention, when he talked about the things that he learned he sounded… somewhat passionless about it. He always came home looking tired and defeated, and Alpha Trion was becoming more and more worried.

He quickly stopped and adjusted his audio receptors. Listening as well as he could, he faintly heard a sound resembling sudden puffs of air. Following the sound, it led him to an old storage room in the back of the archives. Everything back here was dark and musty, probably rusty and broken too, he thought to himself as he stared at an old toolbox left lying open in the middle of the hallway. Hearing the sound he was following again, he listened closely. It sounded almost like… Alpha Trion immediately perked up, running to a storage room a few rooms down and swiftly opening the door.

Alpha Trions spark sank as he stared at the scene before him. Orion was sitting in front of a dusty, broken mirror with a pair of rusty pliers in his servo; they were clamped onto one of his sharpest teeth, and were being tugged at viciously. Poor Orion was sobbing uncontrollably as he continued to make himself bleed. Alpha Trion rushed over, putting his servo over Orions, making him stop in his tracks. Orion glanced at him with a face full of sadness. Nothing was said as Orion dropped the rusty pliers and fell into Alpha Trions open arms. Alpha Trion sighed; he had a sneaking suspicion as to why Orion was so vague about his life outside of the Archives… And he had a horrible feeling about it…

————————————————————————

Heheh terrible oneshot(s) go brrrr

No but seriously I had this idea late yesterday and I wanted to post it today but I ended up having stuff to do so I posted it tonight instead. This is less of feral Orion, but more post-feral Orion and the some of the struggles he faces in his everyday life (As well as giving some hints as to why Optimus ended up the way he is now). This ended up being a bit more serious than I intended it to be in all actuality, but you can’t really tell why from this part of the story alone. I’ll probably post that tommorow.

Also just for the record this thing was written on the fly, wasnt proof read, or just generally didn’t get any of that nice professional stuff, so that’s probably why is 1. Sucks 2. Has some gramatical or punctuation errors.

#ah yes my favorite hobby: traumatizing children #fiction children not real ones #just making that clear don’t call the police #oh look It’s just one more horrible thing I’ve done to tfp Optimus wow #poor baby #he needs a break #and a nap #and a hug probably #but he’ll get that later… #tfp #transformers #transformers prime #transformers exodus #tfp orion pax #tfp optimus prime #tfp optimus #feral orion pax #feral optimus friday #art #my art #oneshot #shitty story #optimus prime #kids SUCK MAN #THEYRE SO MEAN

[sc-02]

Pairing: OptiRatch

Continuity: Transformers Prime

Warning: Explicit Content

Context: Optimus and Ratchet finally gets some alone time in the base

Soft

It’s been a while since the two old mechs have done this. Now never having the time to themselves since the Decepticons had come back. Ratchet and Optimus have to work and even keep the younglings in good condition in both health and armor. When they have some time alone, it would just be a 30 Klik break for the two, away from the chaos and the younger members. The prime would wrap his arms lovingly around the medic. Locking his hands that would almost be below Ratchet’s decent gray panel. Resting his helm in-between his partner’s shoulder and neck while watching him work on the computer. At least the clicking sounds of the keyboard are strangely relaxing and satisfying.

Ratchet used to chuckle and give a greeting as he turned around to give a small peck on the prime’s flat silver lips before going back to work. The sounds of keyboard keys would click while Optimus would calmly whisper encouragement and praises into the medic’s audial. Which would mostly make Ratchet’s internal cooling fans spin and softly interrupt the gentle moment. Optimus usually gives a small, gentle smile, knowing his lover enjoyed those words that he had uttered into his audio receptors. Especially when no one had heard them. The medic would be slightly embarrassed that someone had caught them having their precious moment, even if it is only a few kliks.

Now, they’re alone in the base while the youngsters and humans are off in the roads. Thankfully, Arcee had noticed their (especially Ratchet) slight discomfort of not being able to have affection or physical contact in the main hanger in the day without disruption in their way. At night, Ratchet would work tirelessly, Optimus would be just there for the medic. Comforting and gently giving some physical and mental affection in hopes to get the doctor to fall into power down (which always works). The three bots offered to take the humans outside of base for the day to allow the two old mechs to have some time alone with each other. Which was something the two mates were thankful for. Optimus knows that he can just easily get Ratchet off the computers by pulling the medic away from the work now that there’s no chaos happening in the base that he has to handle.

“Optimus…”

The medic huffs as he feels the sensation within him grows stronger as he wraps his servos around the prime’s neck. Burying his head into the shiny, ebony cabling as Optimus’s engine purred. Ratchet panted as he went to kiss the prime, gently closing the gap between them. This time, the doctor’s engine rumbles while the prime’s glossa easily slides into his mouth. His calipers tightened around the spike inside him that rubbed against a few nodes. The two made out for a while, Ratchet whines as he feels the thick, smooth base of the spike slide past his sprawling, aching calipers and brush against his interior node. Parting with a string of lubricant connecting the two’s mouths.

Optimus clenched his dentas as he held his medic close to his chest. Feeling the calipers clamp down tightly onto his spike, releasing a submissive noise that spewed out of his voice-box. His engine revs up as he opens his armor plating to let steam out in attempts to cool down his hot protoform and inner coils to not malfunction from overheating as he grips onto Ratchet’s hip plates as if his partner will leave him right then and there. The larger forge huffs as he pants a warning into his partner’s audial.

“I’m…going to start moving..”

Just with that Ratchet sighs in approval then he feels himself getting lifted off the spike that he was so eager for, his valve lips brushing against the tip. Moaning softly in the process then getting back in his previous positioning, letting out a strained ‘Ah!-‘ in the process.

The medic breathlessly moans and whimpers as he feels himself being stretched out so close to the limit as he feels the aching sensation inside him rise further with each lock and movement. Optimus whined as he felt calipers tighten around his spike even more despite his tries of being gentle with the smaller cybertronian, trying to contain himself to not completely rail the medic in his hands. Eventually his spike reaches the ceiling nodes and oh… how good it felt, how his doctor moans loudly in pure bliss as the tip of his spike brushes against the head of his seal.

Ratchet groaned in encouragement as he hid his face in his lover’s cabling. Slightly rubbing his faceplate against the slightly sensitive wiring which earned a soft moan in response. He pecked the cabling there as he was being thrusted up and down at a steady pace. His servos around the base neck tighten slightly as the medic moans happily as he was being driven into pleasure.

Optimus huffs and whimpers as he feels the calipers of his partner clenching down onto his spike tightly. The prime moaned softly as he drove into his teammate, trying to keep a steady pace even though he wanted to absolutely take this medic and rail him into oblivion.

“A-Oh…f-frag, Optimus…”

The medic groaned. His overload is building up fast in the midst of the interface. He was sure Optimus was too due to the prime’s sloppy pulling and huffing even more as his spike brushes against his partner’s seal.

Eventually, the two overloads together with one final thrust and moan. Ratchet almost screamed as he released his fluids that gushed out and leaked over the spike inside him. His calipers tightened around the spike base which triggered an overload for Optimus.

Optimus loudly groans in satisfaction as he finishes. His fluids flushed into the valve of his partner, earning a pleased moan in response. The medic huffed while he’s feeling himself getting filled to the brim, almost bursting his seal.

The old mechs sat there for a while, cooling fans spinning. Optimus lets his armor plating stay open for a brief while before closing them back up again. His armor slightly hissing in the process. Ratchet pants as he holds onto Optimus, hugging him from the waist front, laying his helm on the prime’s chest plates, just below his tinted windows. Optimus took notice of this and sighs in amusement as he wraps his servos around his medic. The two stayed like that for a while. […]

———————————————————===——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

Voila! Some fluffy OptiRatch for you people <3

#transformers #transformers prime #tfp #optimus prime #ratchet #optiratch #ratchop #Optimus Prime x Ratchet #valveplug #oneshot #writing #i got lazy in the middle of this so apologies if it lacks wording

[wifetomegatron]

krok finds humans disgusting. at least, that's what he tries to convince himself. afab!reader. nsfw. mdni! drabble.

Pores, hair, skin — they were filthy. Organics were an insult to evolution and an affront to nature. He stands by that even if he's not a decepticon anymore. Partly because the prejudice's always been there. And he'd be giving them too much credit to say it's some kind of hatred. Indifference was more like it. He couldn't care less about fleshies. About you.

Then again, words were much easier to believe when his body wasn't reacting to the sight of you wiping your brow with the back of your palm. Your chest, heaving up, down, up down to intake air. Sweat, dripping past your neck and down the fabric of your —

He stopped himself, manually turning off his cooling fans as they clicked to life. Appalled, he stood up from his position, abandoning the rest of the members who were arguing over the manual ( no one noticed that Spinister's been holding it upside down).

You called it a morning run. You need it to keep yourself fit. Which was stupid and weak and terribly inconvenient to think about — sinew and muscle burning and tearing to become stronger. At least that's what he makes of it. He doesn't care. Whatever it is, you've been doing it almost every day now. Ever since the W.A.P.'s been stranded on Earth. While the rest of the team busted their afts off to get the ship back up in the air, you've been indulging yourself.

The audacity.

Krok tells himself that this is his way of correcting your insolence. That rocking himself against your body, with both your thighs — so soft and sticky and obscene — straddling his hips, was all part of his plan to punish you for your transgressions. Your body was warm, breath fanning against the side of his neck cables. He wants to fight off the feel of your hair in between his servos — soft. Silky. He didn't discourage the urge to curl a few strands and tug, earning him a moan. 

There was a list in his head. Of things he wants to yell at you for. His vocalizer doesn't seem to work at the moment so he punctuates each complaint with a thurst forward: For not helping, for jogging, for looking up at him with eyes that widen and watered. His interface panel tightened as lubricant leaked out of your valve — cunt. That was the word for it. He should use the proper words. You weren't Cybertronian. Not with a pretty little, wet thing like that. And the smell. It made him heady. Made him want.

He readjusted himself, bouncing you against his upper leg. You yelped at this, mumbling against the side of his temple.

" More," You whined, " Fuck, Krok I —"

" What was that?"

He wasn't thinking. His palm squeezed your aft, plush and pliant, the surface was already turning red.

" Sir," You repeated, sounding breathless. Such a strange, alien way to describe it. And yet his cooling fans were now roaring, spike out, and pressurizing.

You were repulsive. No armor, no metal — your body was practically defenseless as it melted against the shape of his. Everyone knows he hates them. And he does. But in the small, space of his berthroom, when the lights are off and everyone's gone to look for spare parts in this barren, wasteland excuse of a planet, he can make an exception.

You ducked down to sloppily kiss his faceplate, hip surging forward. Yeah. Krok can make an exception.

#transformers #transformers idw #the scavengers #krok x reader #krok #the scavengers transformers #idw mtmte #idw transformers #maccadams #transformers x reader #transformers x you #tf mtmte #mtmte #transformers mtmte #mtmte x reader #mtmte imagine #lost light #transformers lost light #tf headcanons #tf imagines #tf idw #transformers headcanons #transformers hc #tf hc #transformers first aid #lost light x reader #lost light au #scavengers #crankcase #misfire

[fiftyshadesofmetal]

Post-gut Clarity

1.5k words and I've finally managed to work up the motivation to get this edited and posted, so here y'all go ^^

Based off this piece I did

Warnings for: vore, valveplug, explicit content, non graphic digestion/reformation, weightgain, and chub

Sunstreaker onlines his optics slowly...

The lights in his hab suite feeling too bright- Sideswipe must have turned them on when he left this morning. He slowly heaves himself into a sitting position, his helm pounding and glossa dry as he fumbles for his chronometer to check the time; usually he was far better at getting up and it was him hauling Sideswipe’s aft out of the berth.

Sunstreaker looks blankly at his chronometer that was marking him as late for Ironhide’s combat sims today, sighing with a smidge of annoyance.

What had happened to him?

Sunstreaker hadn’t been this hungover in a long time, and Primus was he regretting it; Slag, it felt like he had been taking shots of Sideswipe’s 80% distilled high-grade.

A aggravated rumble stutters out from his engine, and Sunstreaker turns over in his berth fully intending to get back to sleep. Or, at least, he tried to turn over, but a little problem decided to make itself known; or more accurately, a now much bigger problem became apparent as he attempts to roll over onto his belly.

A gasp leaves his derma, and Sunstreaker jolts up and stares disbelievingly down at his usually lithe form… only to find his gut plating removed and his protoform was practically bursting out from between the spaces of his armor. When had he gotten this fat-?

The frontliner pinches at his now flabby and soft belly, running his digits over the slightly swollen pudge in confusion and horror.

Sunstreaker is a vain mech. Everyone knows that. He takes pride in his appearance and he constantly monitors his fuel intake and plating polish to ensure he looks flawless 24/7.

Sunstreaker thinks to himself; The last time he had looked like this he had- he had… oh. Oh no.

Sunstreaker drags a servo over his face plating, feeling his cheeks flush and familiar tingle and clench from his array. The last time he had gotten this fat was when he caved to his urges and sent a mech down to his tank to digest.

Frag.

He hauls himself off the berth and makes a beeline to the twins' private washrack where Sunstreaker keeps a full-size mirror. He has to resist the urge to address the ping from his array to undo his interface covers at the sight of his newly padded-out frame.

Sunstreaker starts to rub his hand over his stomach and hips, wondering and pinching at the soft mesh, and the subtle jiggle it has. He feels his venting start to become a bit heavier, his hands wandering over his body more.

Sunstreaker is jolted from his lust-addled haze when his cooling fans click on, realizing he should probably figure out who he had eaten and how fragged Ratchet was going to be over having to reform them…

The yellow mech lets out a grumble, vividly imagining the dents he would have to fix on his helm after telling Ratchet. Come to think of it, he probably shouldn’t go to meet the irate medic while he was feeling this revved up… what harm was there in indulging himself a little right now?

With his processor set, Sunstreaker retreats back to his berth after locking the hab suite door and putting up a block on the twin bond. Nothings as big of a turn off then realizing Sideswipe could feel what was happening.

Fishing under his berth, he slides out a rather sizable bin full of interface toys- zoning in on a massive false spike that had a rather lovely knot. Grabbing it, Sunstreaker settles on the berth, spreading his now chubby thighs apart and finally- finally allowing his interface panels to open.

They retracted in record time, his spike hardened and dribbling pre-fluid while his poor valve was clenching on the air and lubricating already. With a soft groan, Sunstreaker's servos flit down to his array, getting one of his digits slick in the copious amounts of fluid to start rubbing soft circles into his anterior node, with the other servo beginning to stroke and tease his spike tip.

As he plays with himself, his thumb working his anterior node and two digits now snaking to scissor his valve open, Sunstreaker can’t find the patience to work himself up to ease the toy in. With a most definitely not winded noise, he heaves himself into a squatting position above the spike and impales his poor valve over it with a loud grunt. The lewd noise of lubricant squelches as he thrusts his hips down, whimpering a bit as the large length stretches his lips wide open over the sizable length.

Sunstreakers mind, however, is desperately thinking back to the drunken haze of last night; imagining the feeling of the mech squirming in his mouth, the taste of them on his glossa as he lightly gnaws on their plating with his canines… he moans softly remembering the way they struggled down his throat and the way it bulged obscenely as he forced their large frame down.

With a sudden groan, he feels himself slip down the false spike's length and reach the apex of its knot, keening as he tries to pop it inside himself. One servo is rubbing along his pudge while the other fervently pumps his spike as his valve is stuffed to the brim- he almost feels as if he’s about to split in half from the knot.

Sunstreaker can vividly remember the feeling of the mech finally squeezing into his tight tank, the sound of them sloshing in with all the high-grade he had consumed intensely satisfying…

Oh, and the sensations…

His gut stretched tight around them as he struggled to stand upright under the weight. He could recall rubbing at his strained belly and hiccuping profusely, too full and drunk to think straight as he had waddled through the Arks halls and back to his hab suite.

He remebered the way they squirmed as he collapsed on his bed, engine purring as he drunkenly cooed sweet nothings to his prey… He could remember they were moaning as he started digesting them, and Sunstreaker had been grinding himself against the berth- he had overloaded hard, easily 3 or 4 times until he had collapsed from exhaustion to digest his meal.

A throaty porn star moan rips from Sunstreakers vocals again, his plating shivering and clanking as he approached his peak.

Overload courses through Sunstreaker's frame, electricity crackling along his plating as his valve ripples and his spike spews pent-up transfluid.

In a moment it’s over, and he’s falling back against his berth, cooling fans whining and straining to keep up with the heat flooding his systems.

He's is a panting mess as he sits in a pool of his own transfluid, too content in his afterglow to want to get up and clean himself. Instinctively, his hand goes back to the pudge on his middle, squeezing and prodding at it as his engine idles happily.

There's a sudden banging at the door and Sunstreaker bites back a snarl as his interface panels snap shut quickly; Of course, Sideswipe had to ruin his afterglow.

The pitspawn himself was whining at the door, something about recharging-?

Begrudgingly the yellow twin eases their bond back open to be hit with an irritating mess of Sideswipe’s tantrum at being locked out. Primus, he was such a rat sometimes.

“Sunstreaker, lemme in it’s been fifty thousand vorns- could you quit grinding your panel like a fraggin playbot for a click and open the door?”

Oh and now he’s pissy. And a pissy Sideswipe meant a fragged of Sunstreaker.

The yellow mech gets up, wipes himself and the berth clean of any transfluid to go open the door and- frag.

His middle plating wasn’t on and there was the tiny issue of fitting into it...

“Sunstreaker hurry up you slagger!”

Sideswipe bellows from outside the door, giving it another bout of pounding.

Sunstreaker snarls back a retort as he was fighting to fit into his armor.

Sunstreaker finally manages to stuff himself into his armor plating, his gut getting squished slightly within the tight confines. The fit is uncomfortable but better than having his hefty paunch out for everyone to see. There was no way he was going to be able to work all this fat off anytime soon... he could feel it squeezing out from between the gaps in his armor for primus sake.

He opens the hab suite door to be met with Sideswipe.

Sideswipe's engine snarls in irritation when he sees Sunstreaker, getting ready to chew his twin out. The red twin has to do a double take though, eyeing Sunstreaker up and down. He looks him over once more, taking in how chubby his twin appears

“... Why in Primus’s name are you so fat-?“

There's a heavy silence, and Sideswipe's face breaks into a slag-eating grin. He knows Sunstreaker far too well.

Sideswipe casually leans against the doorframe while waving a hand at Sunstreakers gut. He knows exactly what happened to his brother last night.

"-Soooo, this whole situation wouldn't happen to have anything to do with you talking Cosmos up last night now, would it..?"

Sunstreaker processer stalls as he takes a second to think about what Sideswipe was implying. If he had digested Cosmos... Ratchet was going to murder him for having to reform Cosmos.

Sunstreaker just stares at Sideswipe, realization slowly turning to horror.

“Ratchet is going to kill me..."

#sunstreaker #soft vore #chubformers #cosmos #sideswipe #valveplug #tabs writes #chubby

[valve3nthusiast]

oh that post you made a while back about using decepticon pussy as a water bottle got me thinking so hard

so like, imagine a con who gets captured and they're expecting the usual; torture, imprisonment in a cell, the normal deal when one gets put into custody by the other side. they've heard stories about the autobots being a bit kinky than what most cons would have thought, but this bot for sure isn't expecting to be strung up in the mess hall, an energon dispenser routed through their systems and just sort of left there, like some weird decoration

i'm thinking of one of those water bottles you use to feed like a hamster just sticking out of their valve for the autobots to use whenever they need to refuel. hell maybe they've even got tiddies and one of the medics rerouted a few of their internal fuel lines to get them up and running, so now bots have a choice between the valve spout or energon straight from the tit

ough i'm thinking about a prewar high class party where some poor gutter mech (maybe drift~) spread eagle on a table, with little treats and snacks spread all across their frame and they just have to sit there, not moving as they're basically treated as just a piece of furniture. maybe the person who hired (or captured depending on how dubcon you wanna make this situation) the newly serving bot has used really pretty chains, covered in engraved flowers and crystal clusters to decorate their new platter and maybe they've even forced the mech's panels open, with a little container of sauce shoved in there for extra flavour

this is less like a food kink and more of a kink for being strung up and ignored, a mech being treated as nothing more than a piece of furniture for others to ignore

-burnt ice anon

Hello anon. this is a direct bullseye to my kinks. are you perhaps a mind reader

Hnggg I'm imagining they take the energon dispensary and route a fuel line to the top of the cons valve, and then seal his slit shut around a spigot... that way the autobots can have their plain rations flavored with his yummy lubricant

Of course his node and spike are uncovered, the autobots play with them to get sweeter fuel before they open the tap and release some of the pressure in the poor 'con's valve... an autobot that likes their fuel as sweet as possible, rubbing his node until he overloads, so they can get the most lubricant in their fuel...

A medic got the code to get his refineries up and running, now theyre sore and overful, hanging heavy down his chest... 'bots will squeeze one of his tits to squirt some frothy, milky refined energon into a cube, but some skip that and suck straight from his nozzles instead...

Also I love imagining cybertronian noblemechs doing kinky fucked up shit... I will gladly jump at the opportunity to put Drift in that scenario.

Completely stripped of his nasty dirty armor, bound flat to the table with nothing but jewelry and treats to hide his protoform... I love imagining stuffing his valve with food, yeah. Maybe there's a little tray of rust sticks next to him, and you can either swirl it in his valve or gently dip it into his drooling transfluid slit...

Maybe it's a party game to have a "serving platter" with an array coated in candy, the goal of the game to see who can lick it clean without making a mess by letting the platter overload...

#valveplug #mine #crossfaction #sticky fluids #drift #3nthusiasts inbox

[rawmeknockout]

Hello! Is there any way you could write a Rodimus x Shy / Quiet Bot! Reader where Rodimus realizes he might have a crush on them after they crack a less-than-appropriate joke?

Rodimus lets out his most dramatic groan yet, the fifteenth, in fact, as you dig through his neck armor for the last wriggling vine. Perhaps next time he'll listen to Drift when he advises the planet seems 'strange'.

"I can hear you admonishing me in your head," Rodimus grumbles, peering up at you over his shoulder, "I already got it from Ultra Magnus and Megatron, I don't need it from you, too."

You sigh, world weary, and say nothing in response. It wouldn't help wasting your words on him, plenty have already tried. Better to let him steep in the quiet disappointment, especially because you don't have the audacity to raise your voice in anger at a superior. Or anyone, really.

"Next time," Rodimus huffs, flicking a leaf from his elbow joint, "We're putting you on sentient-vine fighting duty." He's pouting. Your Captain is sitting in his Captain's chair, letting you pick out the vines from his armor, and pouting. You stifle a laugh behind your derma, a rush of affection swirling in your spark. Even when he's a servoful, you can't help finding him so utterly... Endearing.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," It's a throw-away remark, hardly worthy of a second thought to you, but as you turn away to grab a cleaning drone Rodimus has to double-check that it's you who just said that. It almost makes him choke on the lubricant wetting his intake. You, quiet and unassuming, letting your guard down long enough to throw his playful ribbing back at him.

Rodimus spends the rest of the nightcycle replaying those precious few nanokliks in his processor over and over again.

#asks #txt #transformers #reader insert #reader imagine #transformers idw #tf idw #transformers mtmte #tf mtmte #rodimus prime #rodimus #tf rodimus #mtmte rodimus #idw rodimus #idw rodimus prime #mtmte rodimus prime #tf rodimus prime

[existslikepristin]

Slightly long installment, but I did this to myself, so whatever

This upcoming week's going to be pretty busy, so the poll is set for a week. I'm guessing that I know the outcome already though, so if I happen get some writing time before the poll closes and yall aren't surprising me, I'll cut it early and go right into the next part

Tags: NSFW, S.M.U.T., genie, futanari, P-in-V sex, handjob

(Story Index)

The most versatile

“Hey, no, that’s cool Anecha,” you make sure to pronounce it correctly this time, “but just to verify, do you want to have sex?”

Anecha blushes bright red. “M-me, master?!”

You look around at all the other people in the room. It’s Joy. Joy is all the other people in the room. “Yeah, you.”

“With you?!”

She could be referring to Joy, but it still feels a little silly. “That was the implication, yes. It’s cool if you don’t want to I guess, I’m just a bit surprised since the whole idea—”

“I would love to, master!”

“Coulda just said that…” you mumble, “Well, awesome! Would you, Anecha, like to have sex with me... now?”

Anecha nods enthusiastically, and stands there, awkwardly fidgeting with her sword. Perhaps that should be put away sooner than later if it’s actually made of lava.

“S-sorry master, I don’t really know what to do now.”

You point inquisitively at her. “So, you’re a virgin?”

She squints. “No?” she says with a suspiciously Australian accent that she hasn’t demonstrated before now. Australian accent or not, you don’t quite understand, but not understanding has come with the territory since last night.

“Okay, well you have a pussy, I assume?”

“Yes master,” she says in a totally non-Australian accent, “as well as a penis.”

You take one more glance at Joy, who is paying absolutely no attention, mumbling down at your phone. “You know what, Anecha? That is excellent news.”

Anecha looks like she might cry from happiness. “Really? That’s okay?”

You place a hand on her knee and glide up her inner thigh. “It’s better than okay,” you say, “Let me show you what I think of it.”

She gasps and gulps when you reach her bikini bottoms. You rub around gently, taking your time to enjoy her tiny, sensitive vocalizations. It’s pretty obvious to your palm that she does, in fact, have a penis in there, though it’s quite small. That explains how you didn’t notice at first, despite the skimpy swimwear… or armor… it’s too skimpy to effectively be either, really, and it’s thin enough that it’s soaked through in seconds by Anecha’s pussy.

You stand up, reangle your hand to get inside the fabric, and give Anecha a kiss. You realize in the moment that you still haven’t kissed Joy yet, or at least not a proper kiss on the lips. But Joy’s weird, and Anecha seems like she’ll be much more interested in that kind of intimacy (an assumption quickly proven when she drops her sword and flings her arms around you in a sudden, heated passion (and not heated literally by the lava katana, thankfully)).

Not only does Anecha lean hard into kissing you back, but she falls quickly into time with your strokes. With the assistance of her hips, those strokes easily dip the tiniest bit into her wet core, before sliding all the way up, dragging that wetness to the tip of her short but solidly hard dick. You note with some amusement that there are no balls in between.

“Master…” she whines adorably, “M-may I have something more?”

You smirk and move around her, curling a finger into her bikini bottom as you do and pulling it down until gravity takes over and deposits it on the floor. Her ass isn’t especially big, but in tandem with her flared hips, it’s a pleasure to behold.

Anecha’s trembling hands follow you around, trying with great effort to stay attached to your body. “Master, are you going to…?”

“If you’re ready,” you confirm.

“Gods, yes,” she whispers.

Slipping between her thighs with the aid of an immense amount of natural lubrication, you press your cock to her pussy, and your entrance is so easy it’s accidental. No really, like you meant to tease her for a few seconds, but you just went right on in. Not that you’re complaining.

You take Anecha’s dick in one hand and cup her still-covered breast with the other. As soon as you do, she hunches down, groaning sweetly.

“Enjoying?” you ask.

She moans her response, “Yes. Yes, master. I-I’m sorry, I think I’m already close.”

“That’s perfect, Anecha. You can let it all out.”

Only a few more seconds pass before Anecha’s pussy tightens around you. “I’m… oooh, master!”

“Hey Joy!” you shout.

Joy looks up from her app tutorial and toward you, “Whassup, mast—?”

As you had hoped, Anecha’s first spurt of cum hits Joy just below the eye. Joy flinches back and blinks in surprise, then another spurt catches the tip of her nose.

Options:

Tell Joy to join you. Anecha surely won’t be satisfied with one orgasm.

Actually, you’re good now. See if you can put Anecha back in the app.

Wish for a camera to take a picture of Joy’s face… or actually, just take your phone back.

[the-garden-of-electric-light]

Love Letter

My Dearest and Splendid Carlisle, 

The remaining hours, in their unremarkable and plodding footfalls, impede the recurrence of our wondrous embrace. 

With hushed fervor, I lament the Beast of Carnality pressing – and pressing again – against the nape of my neck; whispering breathed pleasures against my cautious and unaffected ear; carving away the armored breastplate and readying the skin at my chest’s cleft for the scorching tendrils of your gentle caress. 

The lingering minutes – made of mischief and plied with exorbitant insouciance – keep me bound; and they wilt and bloom with an obstinate lethargy unmatched in insurmountable mass. The dawdling seconds orbit my impatient being in sinisterium. I, in my desiccated grief, petition the Merchant of Passage – deity unnamed for the swift advancement of long lingering moonsets. 

In my solitude, and your absence, my encroaching chambers smolder at the mere memory of midnights fondly reminisced; and I quaff the sweet smokes of recollected moans. 

Your visage sears the unblinking eye of my restless mind and I endure the engulfing flame with prickly and unrefined patience. 

Hasten. 

Hasten to me so we may collide, recklessly, all dazzling rage and lubricity and dissonance like crashing planets. We—with wrought, entwining breaths and identical heartbeats will construct a new galaxy replete with gleaming constellations—our unyielding commitment; and rejoice as our old worlds melt away. 

Eternally yours,  

Mister Oliver Rupert Theodore Ash Langley 

#poetic #original poem #poems and poetry #poems #literature #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #mister oliver rupert theodore ash langley #poems on tumblr #poets corner #poetsandwriters #poem #writers and poets #the tortured poets department #unfeignedwriter #nature #diary #love #vintage #original poetry #prose #march #dark academia #cowboy carter

[yandere-sins]

A Merman’s Tale

I actually don’t want to say a lot, but it’s MERMONDAY! This chapter was a long time in the making and is also really long, but please enjoy getting fucked by a merman! (Also before someone calls me out, I know not all sharks use both their u-know-what to mate. But that is with other sharks, not humans, I don’t make the rules ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

Warnings: Yandere, Lemon (Non-Con, Vaginal Sex, DVP, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Womb Penetration, Breeding, Unnatural Cocks, Anal Sex mentioned but not performed, Breasts mentioned, Licking, No foreplay but magical lubricant that helps with the pain! :D), Gore (Lots of biting and enjoying it, Blood Mention, Teeth Mark mention, Violence mentioned and performed), Mermaids, Big monsters with big features, Possessiveness, Threats, Pregnancy Mention, Mention of Abuse, Very long post

[Part 1] - [Part 2] - [Part 3] - [Part 4]

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

The relief to be out of the water was accompanied by a coughing fit as you were forcefully catapulted onto Atreo’s bed inside his home. Your body was winding and twisting to get even the last drop of the dreadful sea out of your lungs. Though hard and painful, you forced your torso up, sitting back to calm down. The fact you even survived all of this was ridiculous, but now that you were back in relative safety, you felt so damn hopeless.

With the faint light from above, you could see your reflection in the glass walls, the disheveled figure staring back being nothing like you remembered waking up the morning you fell into the sea. Your clothes were soaked, now fitting right in with all the water around you. When you reached your eyes, you saw how dull and lifeless they had become. Terrorized from so many near-death experiences, your expression showed exhaustion and surrender, a testament of horror.

And deep inside you, you were still afraid it wasn’t over yet.

You were toppled over by the weight of Atreo’s body crashing into you, an aura of urgency and need surrounding him as he pressed your back into the mattress. The wound in your shoulder was throbbing as more salt water dripped into it from the merman hovering over you. But he didn’t dwell above you, his already slippery body sliding down yours quickly, the realization of his neediness dawning on you.

His hands got tangled up in your clothes as you heard the distressing sound of ripping fabric. Atreo left nothing but pieces behind that crumbled off you, swaying in the water, before his face lowered to your chest, lips and tongue dragging over your skin, tending with unexpected gentleness to the little cuts he left with his claws. You jerked, embarrassed and hurt, trying to cover yourself. Even if the clothes you wore did little to hide you before, they always felt like your armor. But Atreo had ripped them apart as if they were nothing more than a fish in the sea, with no effort and even less hesitation. Stealing even the last bits of defense so he could get more of you.

Despite your reaction, you didn’t get far. Before you knew it, Atreo gripped your arm, turning you over forcefully so you’d be securely locked between him and the bed. Atreo’s sharp teeth nibbled at your back as you squirmed, trying to get away, but his face didn’t give you an inch of movement that could possibly put space between you. Never in your life had you felt so exposed and toyed with than in this moment, as the merman continued to do whatever he was planning, his mouth wandering to your right side.

Immediately, your struggles ceased as you cried out loudly, a feature you had been denied underwater, but not here where you could breathe. You wanted to thrash and punch him! But feeling his jaw snap into your lower back, sharp teeth drilling into your skin, you were left shivering violently instead, afraid that the bite would worsen.

“Stop! Stop, it hurts!” you yelled, choked up and ready to burst into tears. Underwater the pain had been an awful sting, but the squeezing of his jaw felt like it would crush every bone inside of you if he didn’t release you right that instance. You had experienced what your blood did to him, seemingly putting him into a trance that was hard to wake up from. Even if he managed to stop last time, nothing could promise this time. And if he did, it would only cause you to worry if he had even wanted to spare you back then, in the water.

Your fear, however, was unfounded, as Atreo did pull away after the initial bite, leaving behind the feeling of warm blood running down your side.

Risking a glance over your shoulder at him, you saw his tongue lap out to lick off the stains you left on his lips, his eyes deep and dark, filled with the image of the bite mark on your back. It was as if he was contemplating going for seconds, but suddenly they shot up to find your eyes, causing a menacing grin to spread on his face. “The pain will fade, little pearl. Soon you’ll understand what a pleasure it is to wear my mark,” Atreo reassured you, his voice an arrogant purr in your ears. But nothing about his looks or attitude was comforting. Not when he was saying it.

The merman leaned over you again, rubbing his nose over his first mark as if he was scenting a delicious trophy. Despite your meek protests, he pressed his arm into your shoulders, holding you down as he traveled to your left arm. Conveniently, from his position, you had little room to move, with his tail pressing down your lower body in a perfect curve against his. You realized soon that Atreo had planned to take even more from you, even against your will.

Mouth opening again, you felt him search for a perfect spot at the back of your arm, low enough so that moving it would hurt like shit. He was doing what any hunter would do, trying to keep you as still as possible while he did god-knows-what. Of course, another bite, another mark, was the natural result of him pressing his mouth into the soft flesh of your arm. You cried out, feeling so, so exhausted from the constant pain and fighting against this madness. When would it stop? Would he ever? You should have expected everything from him and nothing at the same time, but his free hand ran down your body to your hips, digging his fingers beneath your shorts.

“Ouch!” you complained. Everything seemed to get worse with the knowledge that if he wanted, Atreo could be gentle. But judging by the way he let his claws drag over your skin at any given chance and the rough pulls he used to tear down your shorts, he didn’t want to be gentle. He chose this violence over every sweet caress and tender moment with you. You didn’t even want him to treat you nicely, but at this point, anything was better than hurting all over. All he seemed to care for was his want for you to be equal to him; naked, with nothing between you two.

Atreo let out a deep, visceral growl when the last piece of fabric drifted away through the waves he created with his thrashing tail, your bodies pressing together. The sound of his feral growls echoed through your body, causing a sudden, unexpected clenching at your core. It didn’t mix well with the pain from the wounds carved into your body, but for a moment, it managed to get your mind off these burning marks. His scaled tail rubbed along your legs and exposed ass, now lying skin to skin with him, and Atreo wound himself to feel more of you—and you more of him.

Heat spread from where his scales met your soft skin, crawling up your body accompanied by goosebumps. Your breath became ragged, only half as much air filling your lungs as you felt the tingling arousal creep up your back. The sudden realization of how much you could actually feel of him filled your mind. His muscles flexed above you as they tried to hold you down while experiencing as much of you as you did of him, his breath against your arm just as short and tense as yours.

He had been trying to claim all your thoughts for himself from the very beginning, and much to your despair, he was winning at that.

At first, you didn’t notice the strange, new sensation that mixed into your perception of his body. Something else, something much more bizarre than the feeling of his scales or the obvious pain in your arm, settled between your asscheeks, protruding out of Atreo’s body. Warm and wet, it pushed you aside to make space for its size, splitting into two once it fully left the shelter it was kept in. It took you a few seconds to realize its presence rubbing against you, your body jerking upwards instinctively as Atreo was forced to pull away slightly to accommodate his cocks. But when you did, the visceral groan leaving him to quiver through your arm was what gave it away. You gasped out loud, shocked, and immediately flight instinct took over. Where would you go? You didn’t know, but you had to get away—more than ever!

Atreo unlocked his jaw again, blood dripping from his mouth as he reluctantly pulled away from your arm, leaving behind a tense feeling in your body. Yet the wound only throbbed dully in the face of more danger awaiting your below. However, the moment you tried to move it, it was like a muscle ache, just way, way worse. Perhaps after a few bites, you had become desensitized from the sharp, gut-wrenching pain. Still, even now, the tears shot into your eyes regardless of the feeling, knowing something much worse was yet to come.

“That-- You’re not serious, are you?” you whimpered sheepishly despite feeling panicked more than anything. Even if your mind revolted against pleasing him, your best chances were to stay on Atreo’s good side, and your mind instinctively knew to appear submissive to his liking. A strong, virile predator as he was could please nothing more than a sweet, submissive prey. If you wanted any chance of getting away, you’d have to play your cards carefully.

Feeling the firm, phallic-shaped objects rub against you with every slight move either of you did, you bit down on your lip hard, unable to stop thinking about what would happen. He was serious about this, you quickly realized. Lifting himself, Atreo took great pleasure in gripping your leg and turning you back over to face him, his eyes darting from yours to your breasts and halting there for a moment. A sound akin to an appreciative whistle escaped his throat before his gaze drove lower and lower. Your body was the only reflection in his eyes. Atreo looked at you like you were the most precious prey of them all, his gaze wild, animalistic, and yet adoring. He was hungry, desperate for you, even with the blood dripping from his mouth, making you realize he’d never be satisfied with just a bite—or three.

“I knew it,” he purred, the range of his sounds of lust being endless, raising goosebumps on your skin and spreading through your body like a wildfire. His tail thrashed in the water from excitement as he watched you like a spectacle, and you didn’t dare to do the same to him. You didn’t want to see what was waiting for you. Didn’t want to appraise him like he did with you. “My mate, the most beautiful of them all, look at you.”

You had no reason not to believe him. The image of you was embedded in his eyes, obscene and bare as you were. Yet, it brought him great pleasure, his nostrils flaring, hips jerking forward uncontrollably. Atreo was eating up every inch of you, burning the image inside his merman brain. What an ugly feeling it was to be desired by the creature you feared and hated most, but desire he did. So much so, you were embarrassed by the hunger of this starving beast, who was yearning to eat you. But how else were you supposed to feel when he was so sincere yet so dangerous? Who could blame you without experiencing it themselves? Raising your hands over your eyes, you simply wished to drown all the sounds, all the images and feelings. As if they were going to go away just because you weren’t looking.

Of course, that was not the reality. The reality was Atreo still holding on to your leg, slowly, deliberately pulling it up and towards him. His determination, to be closer to you than he ever had, was limitless, and you found yourself struggling with his vice-like grip on you even as you kicked and twisted your limbs. Dragging your leg higher, he roamed it with his lips, letting out satisfied, rumbling huffs as he kissed down your calf and to your knee, his sharp teeth always dangerously close to your body.

Once he reached your thigh, nibbling wasn’t enough anymore. As if you were a piece of cake, he had another agonizing taste of you, savoring the moment with his tongue probing at the wound appreciatively. Even your whining didn’t stop him from taking his sweet time lapping at your blood. You saw no other way to stop this but to push yourself up from the bed, gripping his hair and pulling as roughly as you could. Atreo groaned as you scratched over his scalp, fisting a handful of his hair. And his lips curled into a grin over his fangs seeing your feeble attempts to fight him. The sound rumbling out of his chest sent another shiver like electricity up your spine, embedding it in your memory. You felt a newfound pleasure tingling between your legs. It did cause Atreo to back off, not in the least bothered by your attempts to sabotage him. It was another display of your weakness, not even your attacks putting him down a notch. Seeing the defeat in your eyes, Atreo smirked, reminding you, “Try to stay calm, Pearl, or else I might bite a piece off next time.”

Without breaking eye contact, he licked up the little rivers of blood running down your thigh, making his warning all the more threatening. However, somewhere deep inside of you, you had already realized there was no use fighting against him over and over. No matter what you did, your struggles were in vain, as Atreo always seemed to have the upper hand. It was too early to give up, but after days of this and all that he put you through, you had reached your limits. Even if it was far from being over, what else could you have possibly done here to deter the inevitable?

Whenever Atreo shifted in his position, you felt the hot, eager cocks bopping from the opening at the front of his tail. They were waiting, preying on the warmth of your cunt just like their owner preyed on your innocent, little human life. It was only a matter of time until they would pounce, unable to wait any longer. You tried your best to ignore them, to not look at what would frighten you even more, but you were helpless to being alerted of their presence constantly. Even without looking in their direction, they seemed to spring into view every now and then as you looked at Atreo, even just from the corner of your eyes. Atreo’s gaze followed you as you gulped, allowing yourself just one glance below his pectoral muscles and regretting it instantly, draining all the blood from your head and turning you light-headed.

They looked small in Atreo’s hand as he gripped them both in one, slowly stroking up their lengths while he was still licking at your thigh, savoring your taste. Though, compared to your tiny human anatomy, they were massive. Aside from them being a twin pack, you had no doubts that they’d stretch you uncomfortably were he to use them both at the same time. They had unnatural looks, too, and you weren’t sure if that was supposed to frighten or arouse you more. One of them was thick, bulging out towards Atreo’s body. It stood hard and rigid, though the occasional twitch was hinting at his arousal. Beneath it, the second one was longer and seemingly smooth to the touch, rounded and less shaped like a cock but not less auspicious. You were sure it would go far if it got anywhere close to you. But despite their strangeness, in comparison to what you knew from humans, you were sure about one thing: Even without Atreo palming himself, he was more than ready for you.

Maybe it was the bloodlust, or he had a warped sense of desire for a creature not of his kind, but as much as it should have flattered you, you were appalled by the thought of having to take them into you. Kissing his way up to your knee, Atreo hummed against the flesh wound on your thigh. He seemed to be about to bite again when you subconsciously whimpered, drawing his attention to you. You had to think fast! Something, anything, to get him off his weird blood kink! “Please don’t! It really hurts when you bite me, I don’t want that… I thought you would protect me? I don’t feel safe…”

Though a weak attempt at persuading him, dirty in the way you used his words against him, Atreo finally let go, hovering over you as he brought his face to yours, littering it in soft kisses. “My amazing mate,” he addressed you, demanding both of your eyes on him again to know he had your full attention. You could never be sure what he was planning, but you reluctantly gave in. A smile settled on his lips as he saw eye to eye with you, gentle, kind, unlike the arrogant bastard he usually showed himself as.

“Little human, I’ll make it go away, alright? I’ll get rid of the pain and fulfill my promise. You’ve got nothing to fear now.”

Feeling him press up to you, his hands fell to your thighs, gripping them tightly before pushing them to the sides. Atreo made room for his massive body, and suddenly nothing of his words seemed like the truth. His heavy cocks fell to your stomach, sliding down as he adjusted his tail. “No!” you cried, pressing at his chest frantically as he probed your entrance, even the tip of his firmer cock spreading you beyond repair. “I’m not ready! I can’t! I really can’t!” you whined, pounding your fists into his chest, hoping to get him back to his senses.

“You can, and you will. Relax, tight one. Open up for me,” he purred, another sound that seeped straight into your soul. You realized all too late the power he had over you, his siren calls strong enough to force you into the submission you didn’t want. Perhaps it was lucky he was only probing you with one cock of his, but you still cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure as he forced himself inside, your back arching as you tried to accommodate the bulged cock.

Atreo’s cocks were already coated in a lubricant seeping out from their sheath, the fluid reacting with your insides, repressing the pain of the stretch. He grunted as your walls did their first, instinctual constriction, a groan escaping you as his tip carved its presence inside you. “It hurts,” you whined loudly, your argument lost as it was followed by a moan, your head falling back as you arched your body. It was strange. One moment you felt the pain of the mismatch of genitals you two had, but the next, it was as if the feeling was erased from your brain. You felt his warm lubricant mix with your wetness, your body betraying you as it welcomed him and the pleasure he brought. Even if your logical mind couldn’t understand what was going on, you were growing hotter and needier beneath the merman, almost eager to feel another inch of him inside you.

Lucky for you, the second cock slipped underneath, rubbing between your glutes instead. You feared it going somewhere else entirely, but Atreo made no effort to double penetrate you back and front, and you wouldn’t have reminded him of it, struggling as you were. In his hands, the cocks had looked tiny, but even just one deep inside your cunt was filling you to the brim. You knew it had to hurt, but whatever he had used to prevent that worked wonders beyond your comprehension. No, even worse than that, it made it feel good.

Letting out yet another moan, your legs closed around Atreo, accepting him inside until you felt his scales against your sensitive skin around your entrance. You weren’t the only one seemingly enjoying this, as Atreo’s body was heating up against yours, his voice escaping him loud and with no restraints, and his weight crushing you into the bed in an attempt to feel more and more of you. At the same time, his lips roamed you, lapping at you like a hungry dog at a bone.

“There you go. Look how well you’re taking me,” he groaned into your shoulder, pleased by your cunt spreading for his cock, making it wet and cozy inside you. The satisfaction dripping in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, almost turning it into your own. His tail was doing most of the work of pressing his cock into you, always winding, constantly pushing. Yet, you were held tightly in his grip, as if Atreo was scared to lose you if he let go. The poor second dick tried to make its way inside you countless times, but your own flowing fluids prevented it, forcing it to slip down and against your ass once again. That didn’t seem to bother Atreo at all. If anything, the slick sensation of rubbing against your skin only turned him on more.

Like a fish in a net, you were hopelessly caught in Atreo’s mating frenzy, sounds of pleasure erupting from your mouths and the much nastier ones of fucking from between your legs. But Atreo merely grinned, having much better ears than you and still supportive of any sounds created by you two. “Louder!” he laughed breathlessly. “I love it when you sing for me. Tell me how good I am making you feel, Pearl ~”

It was a nightmare, violently forced into the shape of a daydream with every pound into you. You could feel every vein on his dick, the curve that forced his tip against your sensitive spots, kissing you from deep inside. You were no longer hopelessly dry but soaking wet with his lubricant and your own wetness after being pounded mercilessly. All you could do was hold on to him tightly for any sense of control. Burying your nails in his shoulder blades left him groaning loudly as he felt your frail nails digging into his skin, barely damaging it but forcing his muscles to tense from the tickle.

Atreo was so frantic and entirely absorbed in the whole thing, spouting nonsense as he pushed inside you. Ever so often, he tried to breach the restrictions of your body, trying to go places no one should go just for the sake of claiming it all. “You’re so wet for me, Pearl,” he admired you, his eyelids half-closed over his usually so attentive eyes because of the pleasure. It showed how much he was losing himself in you, even his mind relaxing with joy. “Fuck, look at you taking me whole.”

Even without forcing your eyes away from the roof of Atreo’s nest, you knew what he meant, feeling the wet scales of his tail scrape against your cunt every time he pushed his cock all the way inside. It made your pussy tingle, giving you more reasons to moan. He had long hilted you. Nothing would have denied him the pleasure of having your lovely pussy envelop him completely. Was it wrong to feel this good as he complimented you for your achievements? Probably. Still, you clenched around him, making this massive hunter into a whiny, needy creature, drunk on your body and the pleasure it gave him.

A dissatisfied moan escaped you as he suddenly slowed down, coming to a full stop and breathing heavily. Atreo’s whole body was hovering above you, on the small thread of conscience he still possessed, face buried between your tits as if you were the air he needed to breathe. “Let me try,” he whispered so weakly, you didn’t hear him first.

“What?” you asked him after a few seconds trying to sort your mind. Just now, he had fucked you dumb, but suddenly he was trying to ask for something? Letting his head fall to the side, he looked nothing like the intimidating merman that had captured you deep down in the ocean. He seemed desperate, needy, the few weak pushes he made way too shallow to satisfy either of you. “Please let me try to put both inside. I need it, Mate. I need you to take me completely.”

“T-That’s not a good idea! It’ll never fit.”

“Yeah, yeah, you said that before too,” he whined, rubbing his face back into your body. “But if they do, can you imagine what it’ll be like? Can you?”

Shaking your head vehemently, he was the only one that had any idea what it was like to use both of his cocks. Displaying such a puppy-like side to you almost made you forget that it was all just show. A courtesy if you pleased. Atreo wouldn’t have stopped, even if you said no, and he definitely wouldn’t even have considered it. Pushing himself up, he looked down at you from above, staring for a moment before smirking. “You’ll never desire one of your puny human males to fuck you again when I’m done.”

His usual confidence returned, making you almost want to roll your eyes at him. You still felt so dizzy with pleasure, it was hard to follow everything he did, even when he reached down, pulling out his cock nerve-wracking slow. Because of the tightness, you felt every ridge spreading you, your pussy almost unwilling to let go. “Once you had a taste of all of me, you’ll never want anything else to plunge into your pretty little cunt. You’ll be begging me to fill you up every night from now on.”

Atreo pulled out, leaving behind an aching inside of you to be filled again. His hands shot out, one on each leg of yours as he bent them back, giving him the best possible few at your gaping hole. Licking his lips, he leaned down, breathing in the mix of juices he left behind and making you shudder as air brushed against your wet sex. With a curious lick, he tasted you, lapping at your lower lips and entrance, enjoying the jitters and moans he caused you with a grin on his face. “You’re so much better than the humans I ate before,” he joke praised. A twisted compliment, though he meant it. “You’re still so tight. But look at you pulsing so eagerly. Waiting for my cocks, aren’t you?”

You whimpered pitifully, shaking your head, trying to deny what undoubtedly was going to happen. Atreo pressed your legs back, raising your hips higher as he placed his tail under you for support. “No matter how much you deny it, I can see it,” he chortled, finally returning to his place above you. One hand reached down, gripping his lengths tightly and ensuring they were coated thoroughly as he decided to kiss you again. It wasn’t the same as he did before, no extra air coming in for you to breathe while he stole everything he could—your breathe, your tongue, your mouth. He wanted it all to himself, including your thoughts, body, and pussy.

Nothing could have prepared you for both of his massive tips poking at your entrance, the immense spread of both of them being too much to handle. You whined loudly, wiggling underneath Atreo and begging him, “Stop! Please, stop! It’s too much!” But instead, he merely grumbled, not yet satisfied with how far he had come, placing his lips against your throat. “Fuck, stop moving, or I’ll bite through your throat to give you a reason to squirm!”

His anger was less directed at you and more at the herculean task of forcing all of himself into you despite your bodies’ differences. And yet, it returned the fear, his unnatural nature gave you, to your deluded mind, a miserable quaking overcoming you instead as you pinched your eyes closed, accepting your fate. Leaning your head back, you breathed as deeply as possible, trying to calm yourself as you were getting dizzy from all of this. It took much too long to clear your mind, Atreo’s impatience showing in the way he was forcing more and more of his cocks’ lengths inside of you, only getting half as far as before. You knew you had to do something. Force yourself to relax if you wanted it to be less painful. Once they were inside, his magical lubricant would probably mend the pain, and you were too exhausted to resist him any longer.

It seemed to work, your calm transferring to him, and his free hand reached under your back, rubbing it comfortingly, the warmth helping you to relax. You even found yourself moaning whenever he pushed inside after having waited for your walls to stop constricting, using these moments to advance. Your very human body could take much more than you ever thought, the scales of his tail eventually touching your skin again, and you breathed out one last time, realizing you really did it.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he sighed blissfully, his head falling back for a moment as he rested in the warm embrace of your cunt. Atreo was huge in every sense and form. But hunched over you now, holding you in his arms gently, he seemed so proud and thankful as he let out short chirps of happiness. “Wonderful, look at you,” he purred. “You can take it. You did it!”

Just at that moment, you realized Atreo had his doubts too. Perhaps your differences did reach him at some point, latest, when he realized how impossible the fit of his cocks inside you was. At least for a few seconds, he appeared to be overwhelmed with emotions, relief and happiness. To you, this was nothing but horror and a way to make it end. But to him, it was everything. It meant you were compatible. It meant you really were his mate, his one and only.

He tugged at his cocks, making you cry out loudly again. “Slowly! SLOWLY!” you shrieked, losing your newly acquired composure instantly. For once, he heeded your instructions willingly. It might have been the first and last time he ever listened to you, but you were thankful for his tries to ease you into it. Even with the tears in your eyes, you could not deny the sparks of pleasure going through you, illusions of his lubricant. Holding on to him, it was your turn to bury your face in Atreo’s shoulder, letting out shaky breaths as he pulled out and pushed in, every time a little easier than the last.

His second cock was superior in length, touching what you wished he wouldn’t get close to. Penetrating the womb hurt, you had learned from dirty conversations with friends, drunken curiosity, and google. But here he was, kissing the entrance to your sanctum like a mad worshiper. It was merely a matter of time until he’d breach a place no human man would have been able to, and it was an unwelcome realization that Atreo’s threatening promises were going to become true. You’d never be able to get back into human sex, if ever, even after many therapy sessions. That was… if you could get out of this situation alive in the first place.

But it… felt so good.

You hated yourself for it, but you wanted him to bury himself entirely inside you. Fuck you senseless with his huge cocks until you’d see stars and even penetrate your womb like it was yet again a mere hindrance to more pleasure. Experience everything and experience it fully, have him fill you up as you twitched and shook on top of his cocks. It was all you could think about as Atreo began pumping his cocks into you, laughing out madly as he did so.

“That’s it! Fuck, you’re so tight but so wet. So good for me, pet! Cum for me!”

Atreo was losing his sanity, too, as he kept pounding into you, feeling your walls tighten and slipping by him, covering him in the sweet warmth of your cunt. Both of you were panting heavily, so close to feeling release now that the hesitation and restrictions had vanished from both your bodies and minds. How bittersweet it was to become one with the creature you hated most, but at the same time made you feel so whole, filled to the brim and satisfying your urgent, tingling needs between your legs. His mouth found yours, and he groaned, his long cock spreading you apart.

Your legs clasped tensely around his body, toes curling and sliding over his tail as the pleasure finally exploded. Whether you screamed or moaned into his mouth, you weren’t sure as you pressed your body against his, gripping his arms for support as you felt like you were falling deep into this dark relief. His lips didn’t remain on yours long, but no more sound escaped you as you laid your head back, letting him bite your shoulder once again, perfectly aligned with the mark already having started to close before Atreo opened it again forcefully.

There was nothing this time. At least no pain or fear could surpass the ecstasy of your orgasm. The first and last thing you were able to feel again were the gushes of spill he released in you, baring his fangs wide as he came. At least it wasn’t just you shaking madly as Atreo pressed you down into the mattress hard, trying to keep you as still as possible until he finished. The gurgled moans pouring out of your mouth were completely ignored as you felt his semen slosh around inside you, pain and pleasure mixing while your head had no sanity left to hold on to. Before you knew it, you were overcome with a second, despairing orgasm as his cock held open your womb so it may be filled with the merman’s spill.

The headboard of the bed splintered pitifully as Atreo reached for it, gripping it hard while his orgasm slowly wore off. You watched it crumble in his hands, your blank mind producing a few exhausted laughs as you imagined that this could have been your bones if he decided to hold onto you instead. The realization hurt almost too much, as did your body as the pleasure vanished from it, only leaving the pain behind. Aside from your pussy feeling absolutely numb and destroyed, there was nothing left of the wonderful lubricant and pleasure to keep the pain away.

“Don’t move,” Atreo slurred, and you turned your head, feeling the pain of your attacked muscles, making you want to scream. His jaw was locked in your shoulder once again, and the situation was as awful as it was… funny. If it wasn’t for you being tortured by his abusive actions, it would have been really funny to see him getting stuck like this. But one nudge of his tail and you felt his cocks stir, nothing keeping you save from the pain of their size carving you out.

Atreo sighed against your shoulder as if to say, ‘I told you don’t move,’ and you listened to him. You didn’t want to move either. Never, if possible. You wanted none of the pain and discomfort it had given you since you woke up here. But the tears in your eyes were stinging and burning as your brain tried to understand, accept, and come to terms with the situation. Soon enough, your chest quivered as you sobbed quietly, every little shudder causing Atreo’s teeth to rip through your skin more. Healing from his bites seemed less likely by the second, but what were a few scars on your body against the ones you had suffered mentally?

You’d never return to your old life, and maybe it was better this way.

Because you couldn’t believe there was a way to recover from the abuse you experienced. The unfathomable, despairing happenings, even if anyone would believe you once you started telling them about mermaids and the underwater nests they lived in. Gods, you could barely believe it yourself after everything that happened.

Finally, as you were grieving the loss of your sanity, Atreo managed to unlock his jaw, bringing his deep red lips up to kiss away your tears, smearing the blood all over you. For a few calm moments, he brought his hand down, gently caressing your cheek as if to tell you it was all okay now, his brows furrowed. His dark eyes showed more concern than they had in a long while. Then, without any hesitation or care, he pulled his tail away, tearing his cocks out of your pussy and, with them, his cum. The burning was cooled by the fluids leaking out of you, but with a surprised, “Oops!” he was quick to catch them before they seeped into the bed, pushing them in with his fingers. After his cocks even his fingers seemed small, but they did the job of stopping his spill before flowing out.

In the little time he had regained post-orgasm conscience, he already hurt you more physically than throughout the whole ordeal. Yet, you clung to him, your crying intensifying. Atreo pulled you against his chest, managing to turn you around and spoon you without popping his fingers out again, holding you in his arms as he slowly rocked your body comfortingly. His free hand landed on your abdomen, the massive amount of cum still sloshing around you inside while he hummed merrily, and you realized he was more than satisfied with his work. Even though to you, your whole body seemed to be crying some sort of fluid, may it be your tears, blood, or his semen.

Without ever stopping to hum, Atreo licked your wounds, and you stopped crying soon after, feeling very dull and calm. Tired, exhausted, whatever you wanted to call it, but all you wanted was to sleep and wake up from this nightmare. You tried to ignore it when Atreo spoke to you again, already dozing off as you heard his voice next to your ear, purring sweet, horrifying nothings into your sleepy mind.

“My mate… soon we’ll have our own family. Or we keep trying as long as we need to. But once our pups are born, you’ll finally realize how great I am and want to stay here forever. I just know it, trust me. My sweet, sweet pearl, I’ll sing for you every day now. You can rely on only me.”

Unbothered by the meanings of his words, your world turned black as the softest of melodies echoed inside the nest, luring you to sleep in your captor’s arms.

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