#deathsaurus

Deathsaurus

— His breeding kink is something that's a little embarrassing to him. Mostly because he's still young compared to most of the other Decepticons and never truly indulges in those animalistic tendencies his primal coding craves for. He also thinks its a primitive desire even; its a matter of reputation— notorious space porate Deathsaurus actually wants a family for himself? It makes him look soft. Also Deathsaurus is always getting roped into something. Its his nature as a space-pirate to end up in life threatening situations but despite the degree of total recklessness his ventures requires him to have, the captain does wish he had a 'family' of his own. He's been to many planets, he's seen organics have their own familial units. And he'd be lying if he said the thought doesn't tempt him.

— But, as most things are with Deathsaurus, he wouldn't heedlessly run into it helm-first. No. Deathsaurus awaits a suitable partner, a good candidate to be his conjux before he lets his processor go deeper into those fantasies. Deathsaurus has his instinct in control. He's no animal even if he fights with the ferocity of one.

— And that candidate came soon enough. He remembers when he set his optics for the first time on you, it was like he was zoning out with all four optics laser pointed onto you. The mech was unquestionably drawn to you. Embarrassingly so, he'd bring you up to speak with you about joining his crew after Leozack said there was a mech willing to join on-board. They needed all the help they could get.

— Deathsaurus doesn't let "professionalism" or "decorum" as a captain to stop himself from courting one of his underlings. He gets what be wants and is willing to work hard for it. His charm is effective. But you've pretty much consumed his every waking thought at some point, his instincts have never felt so painfully urgent. He's even awoken with his fans blasting and modest panels stained at the dreams he'd have of breeding you full— Something he usually has never had.

— Even after you agreed to become his partner, he still plays the long game. He knows its far from practical to start a family with you in these current circumstances but its getting harder to hold back. Every time the two of you interface, the thought lingers in the back of his processor. He wants you to be comfortable with the idea as well because he has the foresight to understand that once you two do this, the end results will have to be nutured by the two of you.

— Deathsaurus chooses to soft launch the idea, only to see your response. Just bring it up whenever the notion of family or sparklings entered the conversation. It makes you a little suspicious but you don't say much about it. Entertaining the idea even and seeing your positive reception makes his spark flare. He's got a smile and everything.

— So its no surprise that the next time he's got you pinned in his captain's chambers, he's spewing out filthy promises into your audials about stuffing your tanks full. His large wings spread out as his form envelops you, and he takes his sweet, sweet time. Its passionate, true lovemaking. Rough but you can feel how much he wants this for the two of you.

— And he wasn't lying about making sure your tanks were full because he damn near emptied everything he bad in you— a small distention by your abdomen to show for it. His servos trace over it in reverance as his engines purr while your vents are puffing steam, your frame trying to regain your barings from the intensity of it all. Your array sensitive and overcharged as his knot has your channel stretched... Deathsaurus looks proud, smug even. He knows it'll take multiple tries, that a bot doesn't get sparked so easy and the very thought gets his spike pressurized again.

— This sort of passionate interfacing happens a lot more often. You two are trying to have a 'family'. And inevitably, you get sparked. Its not surprising and Deathsaurus is excited. He's ready. He's been wanting this for vorns now. His servos always find your abdomen to trace around, he can feel how much warmer the area is as compared to the rest of your frame. Your forge working hard to engineer your offspring with him. It swells him with pride and he gets a little more protective over you. "You can't do this!", "You're not joining us in battle-!", "Don't even think about it..." are all common phrases you'll hear while you carry.

— Eventually, you deliver and you've got a little band of bitlets to take care of, about three or so. Deathsaurus is a giant compared to it and it makes him feel terrified to even hold them. But that changes quickly because he seems to unexpectedly love children even more than you do. Not something you saw coming.

— He'd be a boy dad and a girl dad simultaneously if that makes sense. He's playing around with them, teaching them valuable lessons, disciplining them while somehow managing all of that along with his duties as captain. Its impressive. You're doing your part well too but you don't have the added responsibility of captain. Also probably gets cuteness aggression looking at his baby bitlets.

— So its totally not surprising that once they've grown a bit more, and they've begin to be a little more... rebellious that Deathsaurus starts missing the little sparklings that'd chew on his digits...

— He also gets very charged up at the thought of getting to recreate those passionate nights with you again. Deathsaurus often thinks about them and gets very riled up. The idea of filling you with his transfluids until you're stabilizers twitched and all you could do was pant... It sends a jolt of charge right down his array. Especially seeing you be all domestic with the sparklings. It makes him feel a certain type of way.

— All these feelings culminates into him trying to talk his way into having another set with you, to which you sigh and reply with: "Carry yourself and then we'll talk...". He's got a frown and everything. Maybe you're in a bad mood... He'll try again later. Deathsaurus wants it badly. And he knows you can't resist his charm forever.

Predaking

— Unlike Deathsaurus who's had his instinct on a leash, the fact that he's a completely different species from Cybertronians, along with him never truly having the chance to interact in a real 'society'... Predaking struggles with his base instincts. He has no real idea about how to go about these things and the only real thing he trusts is his instinct.

— But there are instances where he seriously doubts those... instincts. Such as the one yelling at him to spark you up. Not to mention the way his panels heat up the moment he even considers entertaining the thought. Predaking does crave to see more of his kind, so its not necessarily a bad thought.

— He loves you, he truly does. You're his 'conjux', as the Cybertronians say. His mate. Lover. Predaking would never want anything bad to befall upon you but Primus, once he enters his heat, its almost impossible for him to hold back whenever those images of your backstruts curving up enter his mind whenever he thinks about breeding you full. He can almost picture it, you're in the nest, your knees pressed to your chassis as his spike keeps going to the deepest parts of your frame- He has to stop himself from thinking any further.

— Unlike Deathsaurus who let's you get used to the idea, bringing it up in conversations, Predaking is a lot more up front about wanting to give you a sparkling. Like a flat out, in the more direct way ever. And he doesn't even bother hiding it when he's in heat.

— If you are a Predacon as well, Predaking will be a lot more rough and thorough than Deathsaurus, he's fully claiming your frame with his marks and inviting you to leave your own on his frame. He won't stop until the both of your scents are mixed to a degree where they're indistinguishable. As if the two of you are the one and the same.

— His need to breed is a lot more prominent when he's in heat. His spike bullying its way through your channel as you cry out, holding onto him and Predaking makes sure that his transfluids sweep deep inside of you. It happens almost always when he's in heat, his otherwise comparatively gentle demeanor crumbles into nothing when that primal coding takes over.

— So him breeding you is a very common occurrence. Only time he holds back is if you're not a Predacon and are Cybertronian. He's genuinely terrified that he might break you if he gets too lost in the act. So it means he usually has you riding him and when he's in heat, he has to hold back from using you as a toy because you're not moving fast enough for him. Oh, its a real test of his restraints...

— And when he realizes he's sparked you... He panics internally. On one hand, he hasn't the faintest clue on how to sire. The other, he is somewhat excited. But mostly nervous. Perhaps even doubting himself whether he can actually do this. Either way, he knows be shouldn't stress you and is ready to take responsibility.

— When you're carrying, he's overtly posessive over you. Not wanting you out of his sight for too long. His instincts flare. And his servos are always on you. Predaking sternly tells you to rest in the nest.

— When he does see his sparklings, he feels the crushing weight of responsibilities more than he does pride. They're so small... Tiny in his servos. Predaking thinks that he might've been been... reckless. A part of him gets very protective, thinking about how he hasn't even made sure that the area they're in is safe to raise bitlets in the first place! He tries to be a parent. Predaking is the stern one. He's not very "fun" to be around but he tries his best.

— Genuinely, it'd be a miracle if you end up with just one litter. With Predaking and his heats, its going to be inevitable that you'd have to carry a lot more. Especially if you're a Predacon as well because you've got your own heat cycle too. The two of you might as well bring back the entire Predacon race by yourselves.

if you want more predaking w his s/o and sparkling fluff this is the post for you.

"How did the meeting with Tarn go?" You ask, lounging back against the headboard with a datapad lowered to your lap.

"Urgh," Deathsaurus grunts as he approaches the bed, the weight of the world heavy on his shoulders, "Don't remind me. That mech is insufferable."

"That bad, huh?" You say, setting your datapad on the bedside table before spreading your legs outwards and stretching your arms towards him. "Want some TLC?"

He crawls onto the bed, coming up between your legs. You shuffle down a bit so that you're only a little propped up, and he decides to rest his helm on your stomach. He vents almost immediately, feeling like he's on a cloud. You settle your hands over the back of his helm, tracing delicate patterns.

He hums, clearly happy to be in your embrace. He in-vents, taking in your scent to calm his processor. After a long, torturous day with the eccentrics of his crew and the insanity of the DJD, you are a calm presence to return to.

If only his men could see him now. Their fearless, courageous leader, currently melting in your arms as you pepper kisses over the top of his helm. You give him one more kiss before you rest your chin on his helm, remaining still as you let him recharge.

"You make everything better, you know that?" He says softly.

"Do I?" You ask.

"You do. I love being around you, you're my favourite person."

You giggle lightly, stroking your hand over the back of his helm to soothe him. You feel him vent, expelling all of the tension from today.

"You're my favourite person, too," you reply.

"I'm glad to hear that. I worry about you when I'm not around, I worry that maybe you'd be happier somewhere else, and that I'm selfish for keeping you," he confesses dearly to you in a rare moment of vulnerability. "Sometimes I'm scared that I'll come back, and you'll be gone."

You tilt your head as a sorry expression spreads over your features. You had no idea he felt this way. He's never seemed like the insecure type before.

"Look at me," you request hushedly. He shifts his helm, looking up at you whilst resting his chin on your sternum.

"I love you," you say, cupping your hands on either side of his helm. "I adore you from the very bottom of my heart, and nothing will ever change that. I'm more than happy with you, and being on this ship. I don't miss my home at all. If we were separated, I would miss you greatly, and I wouldn't stop looking for a way back to you."

"You mean it?"

"I really, really do," you answer.

He kisses your palm, dragging one clawed servo up to loosely hold your wrist. He kisses down your arm, crawling his way down towards your torso.

"Let me return the affection," he murmurs, pushing up your top to lay kisses down the valley in the centre of your midsection. You sigh softly, peering down at him with loving eyes as he decorates your skin with his kisses.

"I love your body," he rumbles lowly, brushing his derma against you to make you shiver.

"So soft, so delicate," he vents, "All mine."

"All yours," you reaffirm airily.

His glossa pokes out to lick along your navel, sending goosebumps rippling over your chest and back. You let out a shaky sigh, thoroughly enjoying the tender care he's showing you right now.

"I can't get enough," he continues, "I want to be with you all of the time."

"I wouldn't complain," you say back, preening into his touch. It'd be a nice life, living with him constantly. Having all of those stresses and responsibilities of his day-to-day removed, living with you in peace.

"When all of this business with the DJD is done, I'll set some time aside for just the two of us," he promises. He tucks his digits into the waistband of your pyjama shorts, pulling on them. They slide down your thighs, and he sits up to remove them entirely. He's greeted with your bare cunt, and his optics shimmer with something lustful.

"I want to taste you," he says, somewhat absentmindedly.

"Feel free," you reply, letting your legs fall open wider to offer yourself to him.

"I've missed this," he voices, lowering himself back down to bring himself to your core.

He licks a stripe up your slit, dragging his glossa through your folds to settle on your clit. You mewl, rolling your hips underneath him. He winds both arms around your thighs, keeping you planted and still so that he can enjoy his meal without being disturbed.

Diving in properly, he latches onto your clit to start sucking at it. You gasp, throwing your head back and gripping the covers. He makes a sound that vibrates into your body, and you can't help the jolt of your legs. With them pinned, you didn't get very far.

He flicks his glossa over your sensitive bud, earning him more of those wonderful sounds. They fuel him, they give him the energy to keep going. That, and the promise of your orgasm at the end of it. You taste so sweet, he can never get enough.

You thread your fingers through the sheets, crying out his name in a high-pitched whine. You take a good grip on the sheets, looking down at him to watch him dine on you. Both sets of optics are offline, truly finding peace in your hot pussy. He laves you, showers you in his oral lubricant. With each second, your pussy secretes more excitement, lubricating you.

"Oh my God," you cry, "Just like that! Please, please don't stop!"

He laps at you so enthusiastically that you can hear the wet wagging of his glossa, and it is a downright sinful sound. He moans into you, sending a frequency through you that bubbles out of you as a moan of your own.

His spike stirs behind its panels, thumping from the inside, asking to be set free. He puts it to the back of his mind, solely focused on pleasuring you. It doesn't stop him from mindlessly grinding his hips against the sheets, his frame resorting to a deep-set memory of thrusting into you.

"Delicious," he burrs. Your taste is slipping down into his tanks, and he's convinced that this would be more than enough to sustain him for an eternity.

Your juices smear over his derma, spreading over his lower faceplates and down his pointed chin. He's completely lost in your heat, enjoying his time there thoroughly.

His glossa tantalises you, sliding over your clit hungrily. You put one hand on the back of his helm, pushing him further into you and trying to grind your pussy against his face. His grip is iron strong, but he willingly engorges himself at your demand of it.

His entire intake engulfs your cunt, reaching every corner of you all at once. You drop your head back against the pillow, moaning into the thick atmosphere of the room. The lust permeating around you both right now is so pronounced that it wields a gravity of its own.

Needing something to hold onto, the hand on the back of his helm moves to wrap around his audial fin. You use it to help ride his face, bucking with what little leverage you have. He whirs, his optics glitching with the occasional flush of colour. He's such a beautiful mech, and he's even more beautiful when he's doing something he loves. That something just so happens to be you.

He's worshipping you, laying down every offering before you in hopes that you will pick him in every lifetime. Despite being significantly older than you, he treats you as if you have immortal wisdom and knowledge.

"You're so good at this," you praise, your eyes glued to him.

"Love pleasuring you," he utters straight into your core, licking you fervently.

Your lover has become a master at this craft now. He knows every little knack that gets you seeing stars. He pulls deific sounds from your mouth, letting anyone roaming the halls know exactly what you're up to in here.

"Just a little more," you mewl, "I'm almost there."

"Cum for me, angel," he grumbles.

Your breath loses you as you feel the pressure bubble over. With a long moan, you release over his beautiful face. Your hips push up as your back arches, both chasing and running away from the stimulation.

"That's it," he commends, gulping down the reward for his efforts. You loosen your grip on his audial fin, releasing the bedsheet in the same moment as you let your body descend from the high.

His optics come back online completely, parting with your pussy for the first time since he started. He licks his derma clean, admiring the glisten of your sopping heat.

"You are divine," he mumbles as he vents your scent, "You have been sent to me by Primus himself. There is no greater thing in my life than you."

"Deathsaurus," you hush, stroking your hand over his helm. He leans into your touch, feeling honoured to be handled so gently.

"I love you," he says, looking up at you past your pubic mound.

"I love you too," you answer, offering him a warm smile. "Come up here, I want to cuddle with you."