Hm. Xenophiliac Tfa Beachcomber. Especially Big Fan Of Aliens With Tentacles, Loves To Be Filled Up With

Hm. Xenophiliac tfa Beachcomber. Especially big fan of aliens with tentacles, loves to be filled up with cum and/or eggs, then cuddle with the aliens while he incubates their spawn

Although I'm not familiar with TFA aside from posts (mostly about MegOp size difference, lol, and Shockwave's cool design), I can see it to be very likely. Tentacles are usually full of initiative and ready to make the first move. And cuddly alien monsters? Yeah. I love tentacles. And I'm here for characters being xenosexual freaks and seeking hookups with Lovecraftian folks.

Ravage's death is one of the lamest shit in the story. Him living a suffering with some kind of body integrity dysphoria or just his body scheme being fucked up instead would've had more potential.

stares into the distance. thinking about my "ravage lives" au again where both ravage and megatron are dealing with their own frames failing them. megatron having been rebuilt time and time again and is now in a body that is no longer his own, that he doesn't feel connected to, that has no bite. ravage having a body that no longer serves its original purpose- what purpose does a cassette serve without a host? and when did ravage start seeing his frame as something that needed to have a use rather than just being him?

there are sections of megatron's frame that he cannot feel anymore. the very ends of his fingers, a joint here, a panel there. his plating feels loose against his protoform; there is no connection between his spark and his shell. and ravage dealing with the aftermath of being torn in half by tarn. his legs and spinal strut were rebuilt, of course, but it's not the same. none on the lost light are specialized in the care of a cassette's frame. sometimes his spine is stiff, sometimes his legs lock up, sometimes he aches. and sometimes he can't move at all; forced to depend on those around him and despising the dependency of it.

idk im rambling. i just think about them a lot.

My local cinema is pirating TF: One. Guess who just paid an absolutely disgusting price for one ticket just to sit in the darkness and wait for technical issues. I hope the damn movie is worth this rip-off. Or at least valveplug content I'll be able to enjoy afterwards is worth it. (I've seen some Sentinel porn already, I highly suspect it'll at least make my mourning for my money a tiny bit lighter.)

Had a taste of Skybound. Not calling it "good comic", this writing was shit. They should just hire ficwriters, at least they know how to recycle fandom tropes and memes properly. Seriously, if a guy I hired for money produced this and then there were anon MegOp shippers online birthing out gems after full-time shifts of their shitwork outdoing my official content, I'd totally rethink what I do with my intellectual property. (Sadly, humanizing corps leads you nowhere.) If only I had time to thank and celebrate all the authors making my fandom experience better the way they deserve. They're doing god's job. (Maybe I could do a rec list one day.)

Empurata nullification Yeah, I'm a firm believer that Empurata victims come back missing their junk. Or worse, the mutilation may be aimed especially at making it hurt, or never fully heal, or just appear repulsive to the potential partner (even in a way "looks so painful they're hesitant to touch the thing"), or be especially hard to repair even for a skilled medic.  

I don't think a lot of empuratees even got their fuck equipment back during and shortly after the war. It's another story with hands and faces, but spikes and valves may be considered a waste of precious resources that also puts extra load on medics. 

Sure shit, Shockwave never had his junk reconstructed. Maybe he underwent additional surgery to completely smooth up his crotch and cover it with a non-opening panel.

Whirl is a more complicated case. I find his reason to live with the dysphoria to draw energy from anger a top-tier concept (and I get it, really). And I'd like to explore the possibility of him becoming a king of plug'n'play. But on the other hand, he just REEKS guy who'd put his dick in someone the first chance he gets. Maybe he saved a bit to get himself a spike. A long and dreadfully ridged one.

(God, I like genital injury being a source of angst and issues, and like characters getting creative in sex. If I'm fine, we'll definitely explore more of it here.)

Y’all think they let you keep your bits when they do empurata? Like is Shockwave all fucked up down there or did they let him keep his schlong and such?

Nice oral is served under the cut. I'm delighted.

Any chance I could get some Scavengers fun times? Spinister getting off by fingering Krok into several overloads or Misfire insisting Fulcrum sit on his face.

WAP on the WAP

Fulcrum pushes Misfire’s face away with a hand over his mouth, feeling energon flood his neck cables as he becomes increasingly flustered by the flier’s words. This, as he expected, doesn’t deter Misfire who continues to babble on even with his mouth firmly covered to Fulcrum’s dismay. The words are muffled but Fulcrum can easily guess what Misfire is spouting from his previous innuendos and lascivious offers.

“I’m not letting you anywhere near my valve!” Fulcrum snaps, keeping Misfire at arm's length.

Misfire’s retort is completely muffled but that doesn’t stop him from going on and on while bobbing his shoulders suggestively. Fulcrum sighs and removes his hand, regretting the action even as he makes it, before crossing his arms to hear Misfire out.

“What’s the hold-up? I just want to get that landing strip slick-”

Fulcrum covers Misfire’s mouth again and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Do you just… not know subtlety?” Fulcrum huffs.

Misfire pulls off with a laugh, pushing Fulcrum’s arm away easily, “Subtlety and I don’t get along… So, why not? Just don’t wanna?”

Scoffing, Fulcrum shakes his head, “I’m just not going to let that mouth get anywhere near this valve.” Fulcrum points down between his legs.

Propping his arm on Fulcrum’s shoulder, Misfire grins, “Aww, I grossed you out that much?”

“No…” Fulcrum flushes, “I just… don’t like to do that sort of thing.”

MIsfire’s wings droop slightly, “Ah, huh, never met anyone who didn’t like having their valve licked clean but I guess someone out there wasn’t going to be down with that sort of thing.”

Rubbing his helm awkwardly, Fulcrum glances away, “Uh, well… I just don’t like doing that sort of thing for other people and that’s why you’re offering, right? You want me to…”

“What?” Misfire holds his hands out as if to brush the words away, shaking his head, “No, no, I… I like doing it for other mechs, especially if they’re as handsome as you.” Tapping his cheek, Misfire turns a bit bashful which is a rare enough sight to pull back Fulcrum’s attention fully, “I, um, maybe like it a bit too much.”

A strange feeling goes down Fulcrum’s spinal strut, “Oh, uh…”

Misfire’s optics go wide, flaring softly as he presses his hands together, pleading his spark out.

Fulcrum shuts his optics and sighs, “You really aren’t asking that I return the favor?”

“I swear! I just want to get my face messy in those soft folds of yours and make you drip lubricant,” Misfire grins cheekily, chuckling at Fulcrum’s groan.

“Fine!” Fulcrum snags Misfire and starts dragging him off to the nearest berth. “If it’ll get you to finally shut up!”

They get to a room on the W.A.P. with Misfire eagerly following Fulcrum like a loyal dog, giggling excitedly as Fulcrum pushes him onto the berth.

Misfire flares his hand dramatically over his mouth, “Your seat, sir.”

While glaring at the flier, Fulcrum hefts himself onto the berth to sit on Misfire’s chest and pops his panels open much to Misfire’s delight.

“Tha’s a tasty looking-”

Fulcrum grabs Misfire’s helm and shoves his face into his valve, “Just shut up and get to work already.”

Misfire couldn’t look happier with a face full of valve as he grabs Fulrum’s thighs to pull him firmly against his mouth, nuzzling in to lick Fulcrum’s anterior node slowly with his wet glossa swirling around the circumference. It’s embarrassing to Fulcrum how quickly he gets wet just watching Misfire bury himself into Fulcrum’s valve and then he feels Misfire swirl his tongue and he has to grip both of his hands over his mouth to keep himself from making any sound. As lubricant meets his lips, Misfire is none the wiser, lapping away at Fulcrum’s valve lips, his glossa lighting up node clusters with slow, purposeful strokes as he takes his time to enjoy the feeling. He groans into Fulcrum’s valve which earns him a small gush of lubricant that he licks up greedily before moving to suck gently on Fulcrum’s anterior node. His hands grip Fulcrum’s thighs more firmly as he feels him begin to twitch, not letting Fulcrum escape the onslaught of his glossa.

The effect that this is having on Misfire is obvious almost immediately, his spike fully pressurizing as he slips the tip of his glossa into Fulcrum’s entrance, feeling the calipers there starting to clench. He circles the entrance, moaning at the crackling charge that tickles his glossa as he presses it to the soft mesh there dotted with sporadic node clusters and he can feel his spike throb. Fulcrum grabs his spike and squeezes which only urges Misfire on, unable to think as well with Fulcrum’s hand pumping him while he licks mindlessly against Fulcrum’s anterior node. Trying his best to not just overload over Fulcrum’s hand, he moves his glossa back to Fulcrum’s tasty entrance, releasing a buzz of charge from his intake into Fulcrum’s valve, getting him to stiffen up with a shout that has Misfire’s spark melting.

Fulcrum holds onto Misfire for dear life, his digits digging into the flier’s shoulders as he feels Misfire lazily frag him with an eager glossa that hungrily seeks out his nodes only to graze them teasingly. Suddenly, he’s on his back but he doesn’t care with Misfire softly sucking on his anterior node as he nudges it with glossa, keeping a steady flow of charge coursing through his valve that has him completely incoherent. Then, Misfire slides a digit into his entrance and strokes his spike while he keeps that sinful mouth on Fulcrum’s node, easily tipping Fulcrum into overload who grabs Misfire’s helm, pressing Misfire hard against his valve. He humps Misfire’s face, riding out his overload panting and moaning with abandon.

Once spent, Fulcrum lays back with his vents on full blast and immediately regrets looking down where he finds Misfire licking his lips, his face completely drenched in lubricant.

“Good, huh?”

Fulcrum stiffens up and clears his intake, “It was alright. I guess…”

Misfire pushes up a bit and Fulcrum blushes at the sight of Misfire’s still-twitching spike covered in transfluid above a quickly forming puddle, “Well, I certainly had a good time.”

“I… I see…”

Ducking down to kiss Fulcrum’s valve, “Primus, this thing is great.”

Fulcrum pushes at Misfire’s forehelm only to be met with laughter, “Don’t talk about it like that!”

“Oh? Should I shut myself up again?” Misfire smirks.

Freezing, Fulcrum thinks it over but not for as long as he’d have liked to, and nods, yelping softly when Misfire buries himself back into Fulcrum’s valve.