Vouyeurism - Tumblr Posts
Bulky TFP Shockwave is insanely hot, yet I'm still trying to figure out how exactly we should explore his deadly otherworldy allure. There's something that captivates me the most. Oh boy, his damn HAND. Let's do some in-universe Shockwave hand fetish.
Maybe it's Starscream's nervous alertness going worse near his rival, maybe it's his millennia-long sensual (and sexual) deprivation, maybe a secret third option (Soundwave applying some sort of Wi-Fi Zersetzung mental control technology to destabilize him and make him more obedient by slowly uploading lewd thought-viruses into his operating system).
Whatever, it's just Shockwave's damn hand. An unpaired mechanism, elegant and graceful. Its exquisite shape would fit Knock Out better. It's a palm of a medic, or a dancer, or a sculptor, or a massagist.
Oh, Starscream very well remembers this palm mercilessly grabbing his helm, almost shoving his head onto the giant metal thorn. Honestly, in reality, he would prefer not to stay in the same room with any of Shockwave's limbs, whether it be his cannon or this inappropriate hand. In the realms of his mind, though…
He's staring, again. Shockwave's dexterous digits are waltzing over the console, each movement precise, swift, smooth, and hypnotic at the same time. Starescream's wings give a very interested twitch. These fingers could as well be examining his moving parts, let's say, to check if everything is in order. Knock Out's competence sometimes seems questionable. They could be studying methodically Starscream's rivets, and gears, and circuits. The best Decepticon flyer must tick perfectly.
And maybe he could open his spark chamber, so… No, it absolutely has nothing to do with the real Shockwave. Starscream would rather join the Autobots before letting him anywhere near his insides. But receiving a little manual exam from these skillful digits sounds like what the best Decepticon flyer and, remember, second-in-command deserves. At least to make sure he didn't mess it all up while dosing himself with the Dark Energon.
At this point, Starscream is shivering slightly, his knees frail, his vents shallow and quick. His gaze never leaving Shockwave's digits, now plugging some device into the console, connecting the wires. They could be on his cockpit, tracing the seams with their sharp talons on the way to their target between Starscream's legs. Just where his most delicate machinery was all heated up, preparing him for the interface, his slender spike ready to be enveloped by these strong fingers. Oh, Starscream will craft any absurd explanation for Shockwave to continue his ministrations. Like, seekers can die from arousal if they're not jerked off or finger-fucked to completion. He'll lubricate in Shockwave's grip like a good bot. It'll appear absolutely logical to make him squirt.
He has to forcefully abort his spike's attempts to free itself from under his codpiece armor. It's hot inside his housing, maybe even leaking. That also applies to his valve, cycling behind his closed panel. Shockwave's pointy fingertips will prickle them carefully, spreading his soft, sensitive flaps, opening him up before the unblinking red optic. They'd point at his nodes, pressing them like they're typing a passcode. They would intrude, like Shockwave breaks into people's bodies and brains with his instruments and his cold, mismechanical mind. They would be his sweetest torture, until Starscream actually screams, jetting fluids helplessly, his legs shaking.
And, oh, in reality, his legs are shaking. Shockwave is still facing his console and multiple screens, paying zero attention to what's happening behind his back. And there is Starscream, seized by the sudden spasming tension, stretched out and muting himself with his own hands over his throat and mouth, and dripping on the floor between his heels. Wings fluttering. Clearly overloading.
With a sharp hiss and click, his treacherous spike is also out to shoot its thin but impudent release. Leaving him no excuse in case Shockwave turns around. Strascream's spark, a nanosecond ago flaring with charge, goes ice-cold along with his drooped wings. He's damned. Betrayed by his processor and all his systems. Doing this… this without a single touch, just fantasizing about Shockwave fingering him. Now any cortical psychic patch session will be the end of the great commander Starscream.
He needs to get out of here. Now.
"Starscream?" Shockwave's plain, mechanical voice creeps under his plating instantly, as always cold and passionless. But Shockwave's finials jiggle, bearably visibly, as in interest. "Is everything alright?"
Soundwave and his mind games be damned.
"Pits of Kaon" was actually an afterparty for those who paid extra shanix to see gladiators delivering some other sort of circenses after tearing each others' guts out. For instance, them being restrained, edged, and milked. Those who made a good show on the arena got their bonds loosened enough to allow them to spike a false valve by themselves. And those whose performance sucked (even if they won) got just restrained and forced to watch.
Every known gladiator went through it, at least once. The celibacy requirement in most gladiator's contracts was no joke. Megatron? Oh, was an absolute crowd-pleaser. Why he later turned to revolutionary ideas and terror? Motherfuckers banned "Pits of Kaon".
Put a remote controlled vibrator in my pussy and play with the settings while we sit in class and just when I am close to cumming, turn it off. Edge me throughout the day
Sorry for being so cute. I will continue. <3