#deathsaurus x reader

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.

Kup

I fully believe he would be the type to keep it in, but you are making his mind spin out of control. Is he ashamed of it? Yes.

Kup has imagined you in different clothes and his digits twitch, servos clenching sometimes. He wants to touch you so bad, but he is old enough to keep himself at bay. With the mech being mature than most of the others in the Wrecker group, he is very much not going to take any action for his perverted nature unless you asked him to. With his experience, the one thing he wants the most is you crying from going over the top. He wants you to scream, struggle, anything will make you look gorgeous to the old-timer.

Surprisingly he doesn't do oral a lot, but he wouldn't mind. Kup is more of the cowgirl position, thrusting his spike inside your organic body, watching the bulge form around your abdomen. It worries you sometimes from how quiet he is during intimacy, just a few grunts and soft hums here and there. In reality, he is enjoying every second of it, relaxing at your soft touch and trying to trap the picture of your naked body in his processor.

While you work or try to have an average day, he will most likely wrap his servos around your body, keeping a hold on your hips whenever he just needs to motivate himself to keep going. "Hey kid, why don't you give a little twirl for me?"

Deathsaurus

Two things can happen. Either he lets you escape when he is bored to chase you for his own enjoyment, or he keeps you trapped in a cage like a little bird.

Think of him like an actual dragon, because he sees you as treasure that only he can look at. If anyone DARES to touch you, it would be life-ending. Your unique body intrigues him, but that just makes his activities with you more common. He loves sticking your body really close to his mouth, showing how tiny and weak you really were to him. Deathsaurus won't admit it, but he got flustered when you stuck your arm or head in-between his sharp teeth. The absolute trust you had for him was seen as impossible for others, and he adored you more because of your little curious mind.

He loves to order you around, watching with delight while you touch your lovely body. The moment you slide off your undergarments is when he starts to show hunger and restraint. The way he could just mutilate you right now grows desire in his chassis, wanting to show you how absolutely divine every curve you had was.

NO ONE KNOWS BUT YOU that he sticks his glossa out just a little bit when he gets face kisses. Just a little blep while you show him the cutest affection known in Cybertron. Deathsaurus will show 100% vulnerability if you do as well, trust is very attractive in his eyes and nothing more~ "Good pet, you will have everything that tiny head craves!"

Shrapnel

The insecticons are already horny individuals, so an organic creature makes things worse. Shrapnel was a curious case; That was not good for you at all though.

Why did you wear clothes? Don't get him wrong, it looked nice on his little queen, but the bug loved you nude. Don't cover your beautiful skin, he is sad you aren't proudly showing yourself to his other insecticon pals. Getting his face all up and personal to your chest and in between your legs was all he wanted. What makes him different from the others was actually him wanting to serve you. Shrapnel would do anything for his royal lady, even if he suffers for it.

If you force him to not touch you during sex, he wouldn't move an INCH! Would it be painful? Oh yeah, but again, Shrapnel would never disobey is queen. That being said, please give him praise after or maybe even an award by letting him touch you again, because he needs to be encouraged with such a hard challenge. If he could keep you on him 24/7, the insecticon would.

Shrapnel's problem is that he BEGS to eat you out. He wants to feed on your juices so badly, and he knows his glossa would be the best for it. "Please! Let me devour you, you~"

Metalhawk

The most respectful mech and adores you for who you are. Poor guy gets flustered if you ever express interests in his kinks and you won't regret it!

He has a thing for dry humping, observing your crotch rub against his plating and feeling his spike twitch in pleasure. Primus, you could not have been any better at teasing, watching him struggle to contain himself while you lick the valve panel. Sometimes, Metalhawk can't control himself and presses your body against his panels, using you like a toy and manually making your hips buck on his frame.

Another kink was surprisingly rope play. It could be either of you to get tied up, because honestly he loves to see you in such a vulnerable position. He doesn't mind if his legs and arms were tied either, but his main goal is to just make you happy. Overall, he is a perfect switch and don't mind testing somethings out. His aftercare is lovely and would kiss your cute lips for hours.

concubus! yan! tailgate is as delusional as they get. he thinks his natural charm and attractive aura means everyone loves him no matter what. he's never had trouble making friends or attracting berthmates. he has had trouble not being taken advantage of, but that's a minority of his experiences. so with all that, you must love him! every glance and fleeting touch is a reminder that you're his sparkmate. it isn't that he purposefully bumps into you or is always engaging with you to inhance your attraction to him. no... tailgate would never... okay, yeah. he does.

he quite often accidentally gets you horny and makes you overload behind your panel. he just doesn't think to control his abilities when you're around. it's instinctive so it must mean it's good, yeah? besides, he's giving you pleasure! there's no need to be embarrassed. he'd love nothing more than to have you slide back your interface panel so he could clean you up himself. he's really good with his glossa and servos! everyone tells him that.

he's insanely possessive when other concubus are present. their charm tries to lead you away from his, even if it isn't purposeful. it leads to him nagging you for your attention, pulling at any limbs he can get a hold of to lead you away from them. he'll resort to his most devastating ability if you refuse to listen (about anything): pouting. it's impossible to focus when he starts doing so.

he immediately perks up when you finally give in and return your affections to him.

for obvious reasons your interactions with rodimus are limited. tailgate's possessiveness may be warranted around him. rodimus has been known to attract plenty of cybertronians that are already bonded and in monogamous relationships. so if he isn't even bonded to you yet (officially), you're super vulnerable to the prime's sex appeal!

after getting diagnosed with cybercrosis, he's super-duper attached to you. he's firm in his belief that he'll transfer over what's left in his spark right before he goes offline so you can become a concubus. even if he isn't thrilled at the idea of you having other romantic relationships outside of him, and maybe cyclonus, he knows it'll be for your own good. that way you'll always have him in you.

what he didn't expect is that cyclonus and you refused to let him fade away. he's never felt so loved. he was so adamant on making sure you could handle his death, seeing as how the fatality rate was a hundred percent, that he didn't think the both of you would work together non-stop to save him. by doing that, you unknowingly accepted his concubus bond. oopsies.

it isn't as if you should be upset or anything! he knew you'd come around eventually. you must have been planning it because what's more romantic than to save his life and bond yourself to him?

concubus! yan! tarn has always prided himself on his self-restraint. megatron made him the mech he is today, tamed his concubus nature and made him into something that was to be feared, not preyed upon. yet all training is muted when he laid his optics on you. he almost activated his outlier ability so he could seize everybody's spark but yours. then he could take you in peace. your frame trembling as he threatened you to give in. he didn't. he held his composure, but all he could envision was guzzling down your transfluid like a starving concubus.

perhaps that isn't far from the truth. his work doesn't permit him to play with his food, so he receives it pre-packaged. it's nothing like fresh supply, straight from the source.

tarn is nothing if not devoted. the decepticons have always come first. now you have to be part of the cause because that's the only way he can reconcile his feelings without betraying megatron or depriving himself of you.

it goes one of two ways.

if you're his superior, then he's your new lapdog. yes, he is ultimately loyal to megatron, but a leash can trade servos while the collar stays the same. his outlier ability is used on you sparingly, unless he's given permission otherwise, but he can't help but revel in momentarily breaking your composure. that flush on your faceplate combined with the arousal wafting off of you is irresistible. it makes him wet enough that he has to press his legs together, paranoid that lubricant will escape his sealed panel.

knowing he can make your spark hum gets him off. the one being he can explore his abilities with. he learns that he can do more than make a spark quiver or self-destruct. he can influence one's frame responses through their spark. he's learned what frequency makes you horny.

being tugged around while knowing that he isn't at risk of being offlined is equally tantalizing. you're someone he can blindly trust, right below megatron. you say "kill," and he executes your will unflinchingly. it's brutal in an attempt to impress you. he can't afford mistakes when he's working to feed off you.

he always sets the mood with music before taking your frame. he's always precise in his movements, careful in deciphering your wants and needs without you voicing them. you're a finely tuned instrument that he masterfully plays. each sound of yours is a note for him to savor as he plucks another string to hear it again.

when he hasn't quite earned you, he ends up humping you, mask off, as he promises that he'll listen to your every command before he releases.

if you're beneath him, an autobot, or a lowly traitor, then you may as well name him your purgatory. you will be trapped by his voice and servos till either of your sparks is snuffed out.

he waited till you were alone to capture you. you may be someone he is bound to offline, but he can push your name down the list as he makes use of you. a captive fresh supply of transfluid.

you are no longer what you were. you are subsistence.

he causes you dolor, then feasts on you till your frame gives out. he often invades your recharging processor, never letting you overload. whenever you've displeased him, he edges you until he finds that you're sufficiently apologetic. if that doesn't please him, then making your spark tremor in your chassis is sure to.

if you are good, very good, then he may move you to a chained-up state in either his office or habsuite. you will be in quite a compromising position for easy access. he expects you to speak only when spoken to. if you manage to behave and take his abuse well, then perhaps he'll think about giving you a privilege or two. you may be able to walk around or attend DJD meetings, chained up and muzzled, obviously. don't think that makes you any safer from him. he'll punish you in the hallway or in front of his entire crew so you know not to misuse what you have so graciously been given.

no one else acknowledges you, unless on the rare occasion tarn instructs them to. they are discouraged from even making optic contact with you, much less conversing. on the occasion, nickel tends to you. don't attempt to gain her pity. you may as well be a supply of energon she's making sure doesn't spoil—and, well, you are.

he has marked you since your first capture and will play with the idea of bonding you to him. it will happen. it isn't a privilege you've earned yet.

he is sure that you'll never escape. any traitors that would attempt to aid you in any way can be quickly taken care of. he's well connected, so you wouldn't be able to run far. others knowing that you're marked by him will make your chances of escaping and staying out exceptionally slim.

he never lets you forget who you belong to. you are a thing of pleasure. something that he needs to live. and you thrive off of his commands, especially one little word—overload.

transformers prime 𖹭 soundwave

concubus! yan! soundwave isn't a transformer that you'd believe to hold such a power. he doesn't seek connection. he controls, stalks, and takes. that's what makes him so menacing. you only realize he's obsessed with you after he has you in his grasp. a grasp that will never loosen, because he knows what happens to things that leave his optic sight.

he has always kept his concubus nature a tightly held secret: living off of others getting off to him, taking their essence, erasing their memories of him, and keeping tabs in case he has to seek them out again. despite all of the advantages of being a concubus, he sees the alienation in how he survives to be his biggest weakness.

if all other beings seek to dominate your kind, you must dominate them first.

he chooses you not because of your status or ability. he chooses you because you align with the compatibility algorithm he created. one would be quick to overlook you without a second thought, but soundwave is monitoring you more heavily than anyone else inside the decepticon ranks, besides starscream, but that's an unfortunate necessity.

he has entire banks of data stored pertaining to you, meticulously cataloged and encrypted so heavily that it'd take millions of years for the smartest cybertronian hacker to infiltrate them, only to see them erase themselves as if the data was nothing more than a mirage.

you become his main food source, with shockwave being secondary—seeing as how he managed to create a mutual agreement in the slim chance that innumerable factors come into play and you cannot satiate him for an amount of time.

he orders you to him under false pretenses. then explains what will happen and how you will comply. you wouldn't want him to release all the files he has on you, especially the ones that could indicate treason, or when you pleasured yourself. he takes stock of your entire frame in an isolated place, not for your comfort but for his protection. no passerby need be privy to this.

he uses his data cables to open your valve. he measures your spike and tests its dexterity. your intake is probed, so is your aft, your entire frame really—but your most sensitive parts are given extra attention. he lists your fertility and willingness as factors too. all the while he's recording the entire thing, taking snapshots so he can review them later.

he can sense you becoming aroused. as well as your shame because you don't think of him as a sexual being. he's also your superior, and here you are trying not to pant or drip lubricant. it's normal. you should know that. but he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't taking his time, perhaps to an irresponsible extent, just to get you riled up. only to leave you aching and ready but alone so he can record your reactions and take any samples you leave. yes, he has tasted your transfluid before. you aren't always thorough in cleaning up your messes; a sloppiness that shouldn't be tolerated but happens to be convenient for him.

the room he monitors from now requires multiple forms of identification instead of a code and a quick scan. this is because he quite often has your frame in use. the fuller you are of him, the better he performs. any data cables not in use are buried inside you. he's had specialized ports installed on your frame just for him. if you aren't being penetrated in multiplicity, then soundwave must be incredibly busy. you become an extension of him, almost like one of his cassettes. you know pleasure, refueling, and rest, but not much else. clear thought would allow you to scheme. you are much more useful to him blissfully submissive. if he could mould you to his frame, he would.

transformers: super-god masterforce 𖹭 diver, lander, metalhawk, phoenix

concubus! yan! diver is the reason stories of sirens exist, partially. as much as he yearned for a cybertronian sparkmate, he had to settle for surviving on organics. unlike any concubus aquatic pretender destron counterparts, diver never harmed those he lulled into the ocean. he worshipped the humans he seduced, mindful of their fleshy nature.

he has to admit that his hunger was never fully satiated, even when he interfaced with his fellow cybertron pretenders. his spark yearned for something more. hundreds of thousands of years on earth, and he didn't know what until he met you. you were part of an in-space unit and, at chromedome's request, came to help the cybertrons on earth defeat the destrons. if seeing you for the first time and feeling buzzed off your e.m. field wasn't enough, learning that your alt-mode functioned best in the water was all he needed to confirm that you were made to be his.

throughout his time on earth, he's preserved their oceans. now all he can think about is how much he wants to defile you in one of them.

his easy-going personality is easy to be disarmed by. he isn't isolating you from the others. he just needs a lot of help, and you're a new pair of servos that can do just that. he often forgets that you can still sense his human frame's reaction to you, even if it's somewhat muted. he plays it off as normal biology. you don't know organics, so who are you to argue? him drooling after staring at you for too long is just a quirk of his. he truly doesn't mean to come off as creepy. it's just that he hasn't seen his own kind habitually in their root mode for such a long time.

he insists that you work with him at the ocean research institute of california. you both can dispel water-related problems together!

he will info dump for hours on end to you about the sea and its creatures. it always ends up with him in his root mode, rutting against you while he struggles to think of words to form on his glossa. he won't stop unless you tell him to, so he keeps babbling and overloading and getting high off you. he's a big whiner when he gets lost in you. he's popped his voice box more than once because of it.

sunbathing with him almost always ends up with him spooning you, slipping his spike into you, or your spike into his valve. he loses it if both his array parts are being used at the same time.

other times he'll coax you into the ocean. he only gives when he interfaces with you in the ocean. he'll go as far as to have a conversation with you where he wants you restrained so he can do as he likes.

fisting and stretching are his other two favorite pastimes. he always makes sure you're adequately prepped. he also finds that the transfluid you produce when being stretched tastes the yummiest. seeing your valve being able to take his entire servo will make him overload while his panel is still sealed. managing to get cybertronian sex toys onto earth to stretch you is—not easy, to say the least. but his status as a concubus makes it much easier. even if he somehow has to come up with a lie that he isn't going to be using them on you, the new cybertron on earth, who is also his comrade and who he is definitely not supposed to be fragging.

concubus! yan! lander is the epitome of pleasure. he was taken aback by humanity's capacity for it. the freedom in it that humans have been able to find, even during war, which is something he could not relate to until he learned from them.

his concubus allure extends far past his species. his human form is irresistible, leading to him constantly attracting lovers when not busy with battle. all of this still felt moot at the end of the day. like many other concubus know, no species can quench their hunger quite like their own. his hunger is far greater than other concubuses he's known, which makes it all the more torturous.

then he met you. a pretender who was only supposed to transport materials to them. he knew that he had to have you. he convinced command that your abilities would be far better suited on earth. they need backup anyway. you so easily slide into his amative hold. he so graciously helps acquaint you with your organic body, explaining to you the more carnal reasons as to why it's reacting the way it is around him.

no need to be shy.

he often invites you to his penthouse in new york city. he isn't subtle about his attraction to you but doesn't push it unless you show interest. he takes you nice and slow in front of one of his many windows, hoping someone out there will look up and make out your silhouettes. there is no shame in it. after you've been thoroughly fucked, he takes great care of you, pouring one of his vintage wines and offering you a glass.

he's determined to know all your forms intimately, especially your root one. there's nothing better than squeezing his valve around your spike or burying it into you as he holds your frame against his. there's so much earth to show you and plenty of places to frag.

you're often subjected to questions about your sexual preferences casually. he states that he's just curious. you both know he intends to turn those curiosities into servos-on experience. he never brings it up in polite company, unless murmuring them to you so you fluster. your embarrassed e.m. field is so irresistible. only when he's the cause of it.

he never really had an interest in bonding until he connected with you. marking? oh, absolutely, and he definitely leaves plenty of marks on you. still, the sentimentality of such a long process. having a conjunx. only you seem to fit into that role. you keep him from hungering, so much so that he'd bet he spends more time fragging you in every position than in active combat. his favorite position will always be elevated lotus.

considering he is the physically strongest out of the autobot pretenders, he's well experienced at keeping you in your place and mechhandling you. taming you is even better. controlling your pleasure drives him wild. submit and let him do what he needs. he may influence you to if you're hesitant. he knows you need it. you're apprehensive, but he'll prove all your skepticism extraneous.

training sessions with him often get hot and heavy. he insists they be private. he does actually attempt to train. you teach him things he didn't know. it's just that you smell so good—look so appealing. sparring with you feels inherently erotic.

trust him. he's better with his body in bed than on the battlefield. you've already experienced that. him being an engineer helps with wire play, which he is also quite fond of. he wants to tinker with your frame just a bit without your knowledge. to make you more sensitive.

you may become bonded to him and not even realize it until he explains it to you. he's so stimulating in presence that you don't realize the new things you're feeling are because of the bond. perhaps he purposefully made it that way. he can't take the chance to let his sparkmate escape. if you knew what truly goes on in his processor, you would've run while you still had the chance.

concubus! yan! metalhawk would choose you over humanity, which is his greatest shame but also his greatest pride. a cybertronian that strikes his spark deeper than the beauty of humanity...

you truly must be a blessing unto him. he's convinced.

a fellow pretender no less, put under his leadership by an off-earth cybertron commander. he isn't sure whether he wants to frag you in your human form or cybertronian form first. in the beginning, he only feels guilt. he should take his time to know you before daydreaming about all the ways he could lovingly take you, drinking from what you produce for him.

shuta immediately picks up on his crush and teases him relentlessly about it. the news spreads to the other headmaster juniors, and now they're playing matchmaker between you and him. you don't understand human dating rituals, thankfully, so for the most part, he can avoid the truth around you.

the other pretenders are more wary of metalhawk's sudden attachment to you. they know he's a concubus. they're in the middle of a great rise in evil. they can't afford their leader to be distracted by his biology.

he partners you with the other pretenders because he can't stop himself from trying to court you while you're in his presence. he needs to nuzzle onto you, taste your e.m. field and organic skin. he craves your metal frame against his, frotting against you, eating you out and sucking you off for so long that your transfluid is dribbling out of his intake.

it's more than that too. he wants to spikewarm while you speak about your past and what you want in your future. he craves the deepest and most depraved things hidden in your processor. all the while he whispers about how much he loves you, how you belong to him and he to you, the fact that he'll never let you go. if you pleaded with him, he would, and that terrifies him. the thought that you could abandon him on a whim.

his persuasive energy will invade your senses more frequently. he swears he doesn't mean it to! he needs it to be your choice, but his nature demands results instead of foolhardy patience.

he'd cut off his own wings if he began to need to trap you. he'd mutilate his frame till there was no lust left if it meant keeping your amity intact.

he just can't stop doubting, even when you let him touch you. when you say you need him to frag you, he momentarily hesitates. his confident exterior cracks to reveal a spark that doesn't know if your attraction is true or a product of his concubus influence.

when you touch him—crave him—he forgets until you're gone his doubts. he never takes more than you give. he gives so much more than he takes, or would ever take. his affections have been withheld for so long. you're the catalyst he's able to release them through.

you soon learn that he has a tiny breeding kink. something he has never allowed himself to indulge in due to the circumstances he lives in. he's seen so much life begin that he can't help but want to produce it as well. his servos always grasp your abdomen and chassis when he takes you. his processor imagines you slowly growing big and round from the sparks you're growing inside you. how he would protect and provide for you. your frame would never ache because he'd always be there to ease it.

you're the reason he so recklessly gives over his leadership to ginrai. someone more focused on the cause needs to lead. it gives him more time with you.

there's more time to explore the unique things his frame can do to you and you to it. he'll always prematurely overload if you play with his wings. thanks to his shining arrow technique, he's been able to harness that energy into setting it course through your frame, making you more horny and stimulated. he can't help but give a little jolt to your valve's nodes; seeing your faceplate contort in pleasure makes him leaky in all the right places. his digits sparking against your spike never cease to have you heavily venting, frame trembling. the transfluid you produce from those ministrations is more filling as well, not that he has a particular preference. it all comes from you.

concubus! yan! phoenix may be the pretender team's communications officer, but he still struggles to confess his infatuation for you. he has always been left in the background: a valued team member but not one that has the spotlight. humans look over him in favor of lander's sex appeal or metalhawk's charisma; even diver has this weird charm that gets him dates. phoenix is always the one night that you can never remember the name of. all you remember is that he gave you an orgasm that you'll never get again.

he's stuck on the german airstrip, which is really isolating. there are very few humans that are honestly turned on by him rambling about code-breaking.

he spent such a long time on earth that he forgot there were other options. non-pretender cybertronian options. when he first heard your vocalizer over the comms, he was pleasantly surprised. learning you were joining their team as a headmaster was a double pleasant surprise. you being interested in his ramblings was triple the pleasantness. knowing that you were going to be stationed near him was four times too much for him to handle.

he daydreamed about your e.m. field and frame while awaiting your arrival. he almost forgot his manners, struggling to keep his hands to himself. slipping into his cybertronian form, your transtector is bigger than he is. that's insanely attractive. but he wants to feel the cybertronian inside it even more.

knowing your original frame is small enough to be able to frag his human form has him feeling hot in the middle of a german winter.

he may seem gruff but really isn't as soon as he opens his mouth. he does his best to impress you. he wants to please you in any way he can. he needs to get you. you're the signal he needs to catch.

when he looks at you, his organic throat runs dry. he coughs and blushes, eyes anywhere but on you. he can talk with you on general things, but anything about love gets him tongue-tied. he better speaks through his actions. he wants to frag you well and good, but no, that insecure part of him doesn't want to be another one-night stand. even if it means you'd never forget the orgasms he gave you.

he's determined to get you to fall in love with him before he frags you. easier said than done. you so effortlessly get him hard. he doesn't think he's ever had to self-service more. against his better judgment, he'll do it in places where you could find him. part of him just wants you to see it and come onto him so he can readily accept and make you weep in ecstasy with his words alone. when he gets going, he can drag multiple overloads out of someone with just his voice.

he's not quiet either when he self-services or frags. if you hear him and give him space, like most would do, he'll know. he can feel it. it hurts. it hurts because you're being polite when he wishes you wouldn't. he needs you to take charge of him so he can take charge of you.

a conversation could fix this relationship or break it. he's not willing to take the risk. he'll make sure you're isolated as much as possible. you only have him, and he's the best thing you could have.

transformers: victory 𖹭 deathsaurus, star saber

concubus! yan! deathsaurus takes what he wants but isn't a brute about it. he saw you and knew he needed to have you at least once. as his loyal soldier, you certainly wouldn't deny him such a thing. deathsaurus marks all of his prey, so every single destron will know deathsaurus fed from you. it inspires awe as well as jealousy. the few other concubus within the destron ranks will also seek you out as a meal. if you are good enough for their supreme commander, then you must really taste good. deathsaurus doesn't share, but that doesn't stop greedy servos from grabbing at you.

it was supposed to be a one-off, lust-fueled, fragging session that left him stuffed. instead, he began to crave more. seeing his soldiers attempt to get you under their allure disgusted him so deeply that he had their sparks carved out and turned into new accessories for his breast animals. he'll ask you if you like them, daring you to question where they came from. at least that takes care of one of your problems as well as one of his...

he seeks you out again, this time in a more public place: a common room. he whispers dirty things into your audials and reassures you that it's fine if anyone sees. he's buried deep into you by the time leozack comes up to him, probably with another bumbling plan that will end in an energon-splattered failure. the second-in-command is undeniably aroused, which only causes deathsaurus to smirk and revel. he calls him off, enjoying the way your valve clenches around one of his spikes in embarrassed prurience.

as so many things come in threes, like his spikes, it's your third time together that seals your fate as his consort. it wasn't planned. he was needy but too prideful to express so. he held a meeting and demanded certain mechs attend. you were late. you weren't, technically. everyone just arrives early. but that isn't an excuse. he doesn't tolerate disrespect of his orders. so he orders his breast animals to drag you to the throne room. you faintly smell of another destron, traces of their e.m. field lingering on yours.

in that moment he required you, so he could seal your bond with him. so you'd never be late again. a step further. you'd never be away from his side unless he allowed it, which would be rarer than the cybertrons besting the destrons. he ordered you up to his throne, on your knees before him. he had you suck off each of his spikes in front of all those that were ordered to attend. he had you slide your interface panel back so his pede could press into your array components.

you were so wet and pressurized for him in front of so many troops. truly vent-taking.

he commands them all to leave when he finally takes you. he asks you if you're truly loyal to him. if this is the path you'll choose. he could've chosen anyone to bond with, but he chose you. he would've felt his spark fracture if you had said no. he would've just sent you off, leaving you marked as his occasional meal, eventually being led on a suicide mission because you would've been a liability that he couldn't entirely account for.

luckily, you accepted. and he soothed any worries you had about the others not respecting you after they saw you in such a degrading position. it was, but it wasn't. you get to touch him—please him. you get to be with him.

he wants you to feel ashamed because you displeased him, not because lower soldiers saw you do so. you now hold power over all of them. only as much as he allows, but still.

you're his consort now.

you get to take his multiple spikes, fill his two valves, and perhaps even spark up his gestation chambers.

is that not an honor only you get? rhetorical, of course it is.

you never want as his consort. perhaps ache for freedom and recharge for your overly-fragged frame, but not much else. no matter the times star saber and the cybertrons attempt to save you from "deathsaurus's influence," you'll always stay with the destrons and valiantly fight against the cybertrons until your last intake. you know the truth about him. the crushing grip of his claws will never be enough to offline you, because you help give him life and the strength to conquer the universe.

concubus! yan! star saber is professional and self-sacrificing by spark, so very few know of his concubus status. only the other brainmasters and deathsaurus are aware.

he feels such overwhelming guilt that he has to keep his true nature a secret from you. at least for now. he can't risk putting you in danger, at least no more than what comes at the cost of war.

he often denies himself any form of pleasure. his spike will be fully pressurized behind his interface panel, valve leaking so much that it threatens to seep through his seams, yet he'll continue calmly giving his speech and gallantly leading his troops. you were standing near him the entire time. the things you do to him. which he loves but hates.

you haven't consented to him jerking off to the thought of you. what if you don't return his affections? he's so dirty for getting aroused near you while you're unaware. it makes him almost as bad as deathsaurus.

the other brainmasters will help him, even if he insists that he doesn't need it. the last thing you need is harassment from your superiors.

braver will come to you with a proposition, telling you that there's a concubus among your ranks that needs to be fed. he calms you down. he makes sure you aren't jumpy when he tells you that he's built a contraption that will stimulate you and collect the fluids. it's sleek and compact, so don't worry! it can stay a secret. star saber feels something inside him when you agree. he has no idea what happened, but he can't concentrate on his work any longer. he has to go back to his habsuite and ends up leaking all over himself as he touches himself in a way that doesn't stifle the building heat in his systems.

if braver is being honest with themself, they are always running low on fuel for the servoful of concubus among them, but star saber requires even more due to his frame and regular exertion. that's why you're the perfect candidate. star saber's love for you will make your transfluid extra filling.

laster and blacker act as back-up, making sure you're safe and content when star saber is too busy to. if star saber's subtleties slipped past your radar, the other brainmasters giving you special attention makes it clear something's up. it's easy to connect the wires.

star saber will still be skittish after you know. he isn't rough in interfacing, but his stamina far exceeds yours. he needs to breed you so badly but doesn't wish to spark you up if that's against your wishes. he may convince you, but he hardly has the time.

once star saber has had you once, you won't ever be allowed to leave his sights again. there was a slim chance of escape before he interfaced with you. now it's zero. your frame is absolutely divine, and he knows it's wrong to always keep you with him, but he's doing it for you: your safety, your health, your pleasure.

he's the supreme commander of the cybertrons. the brainmaster of courage. trust him. will 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."

• “Any luck finding his people?” You whisper as the little one squirms, getting fussy and you pull the bottle away, studying his feline features as he twists to hide his face against you with a whine. Looking up as Deathsaurus mass shifts and bends to scoop up the twins in his arms, your big husband shakes his head and it’s not really that surprising. From what he’s told you, most organic species want nothing to do with Cybertronians. Fingers stroking the velvet softness of one of the infant’s ears, you get rocked when one of the twins struggles out of your alien husband’s arms and throws himself at you, an arm around your neck to look at his new, little brother. “Can I hold him?”

• “Not, yet,” Deathsaurus rumbles as you look worriedly up at him. “He’s very fragile,” he adds and his adopted son huffs through his vents, cheek on your shoulder. ‘He’s too little to play,’ the other sparkling complains and he smiles, reaching to lay a hand on the youngling’s head. “He’ll get bigger.” Probably. Without knowing what species the child belongs to, he’s not even sure the sparkling is sentient, though he’d been swaddled in blankets and soft things. And he’s one more orphan on a ship that’s full of them, though he doesn’t think the little one’s ship was caught in the middle of a Cybertronian skirmish. Pirates maybe.

• Humming as Deathsaurus eases down at your back, you lean into the heat of his big frame, a leg sliding to make room for one of the twins to climb into your lap even though he’s getting too heavy for that and the other is reaching, the backs of his servos barely touching the baby’s shoulder. Know they’re both curious about the tiny baby Deathsaurus had brought home to you. Inhaling slowly as your mate’s arm curls loosely around you, his chin brushes the top of your head. Wondering how long he can avoid conflict with Autobots in pursuit, the massive ship a sanctuary for his people and those displaced and lost. Home.

• “He’s going to need a name,” you say and he rumbles at your back. Knowing if you’re bringing it up, you already have one in mind. ‘Oh? I’m partial to Murderstorm,’ he growls and you elbow him. “Absolutely not.” And he smiles as the twins start giving their name ideas and you lay your head back against him as he chuckles, listening to you trying to explain to the twins why the bitlet’s name won’t have any combination of the words death, murder, or war. Watching the new sparkling squirming against you with a whimper and you cupping a hand against the little one’s head, he’s aware of how much he has to protect. That Star Saber and his Autobots won’t stop hunting for him and his even though he’d broken away from Megatron after the warlord lost his way.