#skyquake

Soundwave - barn owl (only one where the original bird colors are completely changed. The barn owl has a distinct disc like face, black glassy eyes, and has great hearing, which i thought fit him very well, so that should make up for the color inconsistency)

Megatron - bearded vulture (the bird’s already piercing red eyes matches Meg well, along with the black/greyish feathers framing the face similarly to his helm)

Starscream - peregrine falcon (one of the fastest birds in the world. It has a distinct brow bone and the black/white face matches his helm somewhat)

Knockout - northern cardinal (a bright red bird with a spiked crown and black eyes)

Breakdown - blue indian ringneck (a blue bird with yellow touches, along with a red/orange beak like BD’s face)

Skyquake - great green macaw (a large green bird with red touches and a strong beak meant for crushing, blue wing feathers changed to match the glass of his cockpit)

Dreadwing - hyacinth macaw (a color variant of his twin: blue and yellow/gold)

Airachnid - rook (first considered making her a raven, but the rook’s already white beak matched her face better, plus iridescent/purplish neck feathers)

Rodimus, don't get attached to the sg...

First event in LostLight

TFP Shattered Glass

Dreadwing is, to put it simply, horrible at eating out. Please don’t hold it against him, he wasn’t exactly out there back on Cybertron, and things got even worse when he was cooped up in his spaceship hunting down Autobots and Wreckers. Can he even remember when he last ate valve? Probably, Cybertronians have better memories than humans, but there’s no way he doesn’t cringe inside recalling the event. He has no idea what he’s doing, he’s the furthest thing from a Casanova, the antithesis of a sex god. Show him some mercy and give him instructions, he’ll listen to them as best he can, you just wish he would go harder and stop holding back like you’re made of glass. To be fair, by Cybertronian standards you’re extremely fragile, but… you trust him enough not to kill you with his glossa. It’s all awkward licks without your input, staring down at your pussy like it’s a bomb he has to defuse, and it’s not very sexy when he’s analyzing your genitals instead of eating you out. He can treat you like a gentlebot as much as he wants, protectively cupping you in his servo while on his knees, bringing your little body to his intake and ex-venting against it, leaving shivers down your spine. But the second he gets to work it feels like you bought a vibrator on Temu and received a bootleg PS5 controller. Either you beat the circumstances and cum against his face, or you make no progress in the span of hours. Cut the guy some slack, he’s trying his best to please.

Skyquake has the opposite problem. No, sadly not in the sense that he can tongue fuck you until you see Primus and get a drawn out “Nice” from their God/Creator/Dad. Bad cunnilingus runs in the family. The issue is, he’s too rough. If it’s not the general glossa to clit action, it’s the way he’s holding you in his servos, digits wrapped too tightly around your itty bitty body, enough to make you wince. He will adjust his grip if asked, but don’t expect him to remember during the entire act. You offer a prayer to the fallen Cybertronians who had their anterior nods bitten off by a walking jet with no chill. Squirm too much and he’ll assume he’s doing a good job, beg him to stop and he’ll take it as encouragement to keep overstimulating you. Except it’s not overstimulation – oh no. He’s turning your pussy numb faster than you can say “I wish it was your brother”. He’s well-meaning, just too intense for your own good. You have to treat him like a rescue, lure him in with treats and train him to stop biting you at random intervals. If you manage, he’ll lower his aggression, if only a little bit, and he’ll try being more mindful of your reaction, shedding his one track mind for a night or two. There are complicated cases, then there’s Starscream who, like the drama queen he is, has to be number one in avoiding your genitals like the plague until he feels safe enough to give them a try. Ironic since he can shishkebab you with those giant claws, but dude needs to trust you enough if he’s going to stick his glossa between your folds. Worst thing is; he’s good. Not just good, but fantastic at eating out. Who fucking knows how many Cybertronians had their valves ruined at his servos, but you have to earn your keep, make it to the top of his most trusted list and reap your reward. He enjoys the act, leaning all casually against a wall with you in his servos, keeping your thighs apart with two sharp as steel digits; applying languid licks to your pussy until you’re shaking in his gentle grip. Buck into him, he encourages it, it feeds into his ego, and by Primus the more praise you slather onto your words the better he does. Give him any kind of appreciation and he’s clinging onto it like the holy grail. He gets off on pushing you to your limits, having you beg for more as he assures you in a silky voice that you will get your dues soon. Absolute 10/10, do recommend.

Soundwave does not possess a proper “mouth” by human standards, doubtful he even had one when he was forged. But he has a sort of… throat intake for lack of a better word which he uses to refuel. Fear not fellow robot-fuckers! He makes up for what he lacks in other ways, mainly making proper use of his tentacle-like cables, each possessing a number of thin wires. Under usual circumstances, he uses them to connect to machinery or, in case he needs an extra oomf during a brawl, lights his opponent the fuck up with one billion volts of pure ass-kicking electricity. Now, don’t worry, Soundwave isn’t planning on turning your pussy into a death row inmate. He’s got enough control over his own frame to avoid this worst case scenario, and he’s certainly not clumsy enough to accidentally fry your pussy like a thanksgiving turkey. Those wires feel way too good inside of you, dragging across your clit with ease and squirming between your folds like miniature tentacles. The whole ordeal is akin to a consensual hentai experience with no need to yamete kudasai him; he can gauge your reaction on his own. After all, as the Intelligence Officer, deciphering body language is a must.

If you're letting Airachnid eat you out, you have no survival instincts. I'm not saying you're an idiot, but you're widely overestimating her “kindness”. Let's all take a moment of silence for the fallen valves of innocent Cybertronians. If and only if she has the barest sliver of empathy, she's going to torture your pussy until you're a crying mess caught in her web, without turning you into her newest trophy once the deed is done. At least not a dead trophy, because once she gets her servos on your squishy little human body, you belong to her, a hypothetical deal with spider Satan in exchange for the best head of your life. She's cruel in every sense of the word, but her talent at pushing you to the brink of insanity leaves you willing to risk everything, including your genitals, in this one sided power dynamic. Bound in her web, she delights in ghosting her digits over your throat, pushing down just enough to remind you of your place in this bargain. She can end your precious organic life whenever she pleases, mixing fear with pleasure as she presses her lips to your pussy.

Breakdown is a special case, always has been. Among the vast majority of Decepticons, he doesn't aim to make you beg, nor to destroy your sense of self with his glossa. He's just… a guy, completely normal next to the others, and this, ironically enough, makes him stand out. He's good at what he does, not mind-blowing by any means, just average. He has practiced enough with valves and made his partners overload plenty of times. A pussy is small, sure, but he's had minicons before, you're in safe servos here; and he’s not rusty at it either, he's one of the very few Cybertronians on Earth who frags on the regular (in no small thanks to Knock Out). Contrary to what his status indicates, he's more than just the “smash your opponents into scrap” soldier. It feels nice to lower his inner walls around someone other than his partner. There’s a major difference between the self-assured intimidation he wants to exude and the softness he craves. As such, shows exceptional gentleness handling you, cupping you in his huge servos or, if you're a daredevil, holding your hips with two massive digits as you grind your pussy against his intake. 

“Cute,” he thinks as you hump his face like an overly territorial parakeet. You may be a little shit, but you’re his little shit that he pampers and pleasures until you mellow out and relax against his chassis.

Knock Out fucks. End of discussion. He FUCKS. He has fragged on Cybertron, he's fragging on the Nemesis, you cannot stop him. Am I exaggerating? Possibly, but Knock Out is a young Cybertronian with the libido of an unneutered bull, so of course he can eat pussy. Issue is, he's smug about it, teasing you with the tip of his glossa until you beg him to put in some actual effort. He draws out your pleading until you have tears in your eyes, then he grants you the orgasm you've been dying for. Have fun being handled like a particularly juice push pop candy, you must sacrifice your dignity for robot cunnilingus. Knock Out may want you to assume he's a natural at human pussy, but the truth is; he's been googling the topic nonstop like a horny 14 year old on his dad's computer. He actively wants you to believe it’s an effortless task, you have no idea how much time and effort he puts into researching the topic, all for your admiration. Now please, give it to him, especially after all this hard work. Just don’t mention how you glimpsed his internet history.

Starscream came out of recharge first. He probably wouldn’t admit it, but his optics felt much less heavier and he felt more energized than he had in cycles. He could still feel his trine mates on him and had made the almost instinctive decision to stay until they woke up when he realized that there wasn’t just warmth coming from his right and on top of him…

It was everywhere. His helm was resting on something that wasn’t there before. His legs felt crushed, not by harsh force, but by something heavy simply laying across it. His left side was pressed against by a pair of metal wings.

Quickly and carefully, Starscream sat up and maneuvered his left servo in what little space he could find to prop himself up and look around. His optics widened at the amount of seekers around him. He began running the names of every seeker he saw, even turning his helm to look over his shoulder.

Every seeker in the armada was there.

The rainmakers were sleeping on Thundercracker’s opposite side, the bot next to him was Dreadwing and Skyquake cuddling with each other, the weight on his legs was Slipstream, and the thing his helmet rested on was a cushion. It wasn’t here before.

Seeing as no one else was around, Starscream allowed himself a smile. His spark felt warm, a feeling that had become almost unfamiliar during the war.

Between how long the war had lasted, how lost he felt seeing that the decepticon cause was running itself into the ground, a strong sense of helplessness under Megatron, and his anger for what happened to Vos almost gone now, he’d nearly forgotten why he was fighting in the first place.

• Trembling as Skyquake fills you again, the massive mech plants a hand near your head as he leans over you, his mouth brushing against the back of your shoulder. Head turning to look up into his red optics, you wonder what had him so riled up. Normally you can keep up with both twins well enough, but if Skyquake has a bad run in with those Autobots, he’s always frustrated and needs to work off the anger. Not that you’re complaining even as your thighs won’t stop trembling, so overly sensitive that you whimper when he finally slips free.

• Lips quirking at the sight of you slick and trembling, Skyquake sits back, venting raggedly as he offers Dreadwing a nod of greeting. Not even surprised when his twin fetches a damp cloth and mass displaces to joins you and him. Dreadwing’s palm sliding almost reverently up your spine as you rest your cheek on an arm to watch him. “Taking good care of my brother?” Dreadwing asks and you smile, face flushed. Leaning back on his elbows, Skyquake watches Dreadwing slowly clean away his excess from you. Tending to you like a real mate, making his spark ache.

• Servos careful, he runs the damp cloth over you even as his own spike stirs. Because the sight of you exhausted and well-fragged twists through him. Making him want to mount and fill you himself. Knowing you’d welcome him if he did, but seeing you still trembling faintly, the urge to tend to you wins out over his own need. Leaning over you, his mouth brushes your cheek and you watch him with tired eyes. “Are you going to ask?” Skyquake growls in Cybertronian and Dreadwing’s head turns to look at his twin, his brother’s optics on you. Knows exactly what question Skyquake means. That his twin wants them both to claim you. Bond you. Try to spark you. Keeps bringing it up.

• They’re talking about you. Hate when they growl at each other in their alien gibberish and you’re left out of the loop, but understand that some stuff they can’t say around you. Whimpering as Dreadwing answers his brother and slides his cloth covered servos against you, they both rumble, the growling noise humming through you. Feeling those optics on you as you wonder what they’re saying. Then Dreadwing is hooking an arm around you, cradling you against his frame as he sits with you in his lap, listening to Skyquake growl. Whatever it is, it’s probably not that important. Strategy, maybe. Or their ongoing war. It might not even be about you at all.