I was just informed that my wisdom teeth are not looking fantastic. The roots are growing into my sinus, they’re stupidly close to nerves. In fact, they said they might have to just cut the tooth in half and leave the rest there. They then stressed me out by saying that I run the risk of my bottom lip becoming permanently numb (I play a brass instrument as my job, I cannot have that happen). I have gotten no sympathy from my father, in fact he told me that I need to stop worrying because it’s nothing to stress over. (That is not how my brain works, thank you.)
In fact, on the car ride home, he was laughing at how I was almost in tears worrying about it… :’)
Honestly, this sounds like my dad. You’re allowed to be worried about stuff. And telling someone not to worry doesn’t really make it stop. It just makes them feel judged for being concerned in the first place so they stop bothering to voice their concerns to you anymore
Care
Wildwheel x Reader
• Coming out of the building into the heat and bustle of other organic races, your skin prickles as creatures you can’t even name glance curiously at you. But then, you’re as alien to them as they are to you. And you still have no damn idea if you were just seen by an alien doctor or a vet, but you’re probably happier not knowing the answer as you fidget with the heavy translator collar around your neck. Absently rubbing your jaw, you know Wildwheel wouldn’t have carried you here unless he thought it was safe. Walking over to where the big mech is sitting with his back to the building and hat down over his optics, you make yourself stop touching your sore jaw.
• Using a servo to push the brim of his hat up, he studies you. “We good or do I need to burn everything to the ground?” He drawls and you smile even as you wince. “They didn’t fix it?” He demands, voice roughening as he sits up and you lay a hand on his ped. ‘They’re having to formulate a sedative first that won’t kill me,’ you say and he rumbles irritably. “They’re going to drug you?” Optics flicking to the building, the urge to cause some heavy, collateral damage is growing.
• Keeping your hands on him as he growls and aliens move to get clear of the big Cybertronian, you frown up at him. “I asked them for a sedative,” you tell him. Because no one’s messing with your teeth while you’re alert and aware of it. “No shooting up the town.” And he’s frowning down at you, before glancing at the building you’d come out of. Then he’s mass shifting to startle you, pushing to his peds and striding for the door as you jog after him. “What are you going to do?”
• “Relax. I won’t maim anyone,” he growls, shoving open the door and smirking when he accidentally pops it loose, embedding it in the wall. Well, that’s just shoddy craftsmanship. Hardly his fault. The organic behind the waiting area desk stares at him, their mutifaceted eyes wide and wet as they hunch slightly like they’re trying to hide behind the desk. “Afternoon,” he says, tipping his hat and baring his denta before hooking an arm around you to drag you up against his side. “Now, I’m not telling you how to do your job, but this little human here? They’re important to me. But I know you’re going to do your best to take care of them and make sure everything goes off without a hitch.”
• Wanting to cringe as Wildwheel chuckles, you meet the insectoid receptionist’s creepy fly face and manage a weak, what can you do shrug. “Because if it doesn’t, if there’s a problem, well, I’m not sure what I’d do. You ever seen what a modified Cybertronian starship is packing? Let me tell you, those cannons make a Pit of a crater,” he adds as you wish the floor could swallow you whole. Would like to believe your alien boyfriend would react in a calm, reasonable manner if there was a complication or problem. But you’re pretty sure a smoking crater is exactly what will happen. Especially with how he’s smiling as he tips his hat at the bug person.
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Saw someone talk about a cowboy au and I find it funny if Wildwheel in that au isn’t a cowboy at all. Like he’s a fine bri’ish gentlemech travelling overseas to see what’s all the commotion.
Hello its me, the letmerizzyouup anon. Did i rizz you? Probably not lol but i wanted to add on my thoughts. Whenever im reading smut i would read it with a bored, straight looking face BUT id be blushing and giggling when fluffy fics are a bit suggestive. Idk why maybe its just a me thing.
There was a time when id be reading smut and i barely realised someone next to me was also silently reading the fic with me. We both kinda gave each other side eyes before focusing on the fic again lol
Anyywayy i wasnt sure whether to sent this to your rvlboo blog or this since its kinda spicy(?). I dunno if its okay to send somewhat spicy asks to ur boo blog so its in here instead. i just thought itd be fun to share my thoughts, have a good day revel!
Nah, I get it 🤣 I personally prefer the fluffy stuff. 🔞 MDNI Mass displaced mech 🌶️
Warm
Wildwheel x Reader
• “It’s nothing. A scratch,” he rumbles trying to pull his hand away as you sit in his lap while he’s mass displaced. Insisting on cleaning his wounds even though he’s tried to tell you he’s fine. Little stuff like this his self repair can easily deal with. And even though he’s much stronger, he doesn’t bother yanking his hand away. Letting you disinfect a nothing scratch to keep it from potentially rusting because you need to do this for him. Because you seem to find some self worth in doing this and he can’t take that away even as he doesn’t really understand it.
• Carefully cleaning out the shallow scratch in his living metal skin, you know he thinks you’re being silly. That this isn’t necessary, but it’s about all you can do for him. Sometimes feel so useless out here far from home. Gripping his big hand in both of yours, you’re so focused that you startle when the servos of his other hand brush your chin. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon,” he says, a servo feathering over your bottom lip as your face heats. “Bots like me? We’re survivors.” Know that. Had realized that when you’d gotten an inkling how vast the gap between your lifespan and his is. That you’re a blip in his long existence and that hurts.
• Your eyes are so sad his spark aches when they meet his optics, your field feeling like rain washing over him. Where did your mind just go? “Will you remember me?” You ask so softly he almost misses it. ‘You’re with me,’ he growls, servos gently gripping your chin. ‘The Pit can take the rest of the universe, you’re with me.’ Why do have to look at him like that? Gathering you against his chassis, he vents, mouth brushing the corner of yours. ‘You’re not going anywhere and neither am I,’ he adds, annoyed when you don’t smile. Don’t laugh and tease.
• His mouth covers yours in a warm slide as he leans and you’re laid down on his berth, his frame coming down to cover you mindful of his weight. Reaching to hang onto him, you slide your tongue against the seam of his lips and he lets you in with a groan. Can feel his big hands sliding over you, his touch possessive and almost too rough. Want to believe his words. That this can last, but you know it can’t. Not when his kind live millions of years and your kind is lucky to get eighty. Feel his spike pressurize between your bodies as his glossa tangles with your tongue. Want to believe he’ll miss you even though that feels so petty. That he won’t forget you.
• Can’t stop touching you, hands sliding under your clothes to find skin and ground himself in the feel of you as his hips rock against you. Will he remember you? Like you have no fragging idea that you’re everything? Isn’t sure if there’d be anything left of himself without you there. Even trying to imagine going back to his life before, to not having you there just pisses him off. Isn’t letting anything happen to you. Isn’t leaving you. You’re just fragging stuck with him.
I wanna ride that cowboy till his frame gives out 😛
Yes 🤣 🔞 MDNI Mass displaced mech 🌶️
Needy
Wildwheel x Reader
• Groaning as his head falls back against the berth, his hat gets pushed up and tips across his face as his jaw clenches. Hands gripping your waist as your hips roll and it takes a force of will to not drive up into your slick heat. To let you have your way as you buck and move on him. Hears you gasp his name, feels your muscles trembling as your movements become erratic, more urgent. Soft hands grip his servos and he growls, head turning to try to nudge his hat off. Needing to see you and unwilling to let go of you.
• Staring down at him as you bounce on his spike, you’re so close. Body strung tight and he shakes his head slightly, his hat falling off and those optics are hungry as he stares up at you. His servos flexing and smoothing against your sides as he rumbles. Leaning back slightly and trusting him to hang onto you so you don’t fall backwards against his thighs, you grind against him, chasing that angle you need as you gasp. “Harder,” he growls, a hand sliding up your side, mapping you out and you roll your hips, riding him.
• Loves the way you look chasing pleasure, your head thrown back and eyes hooded. Face flushed as you make those needy noises that are only for him. And you shatter with a gasp, fisting his spike as his hands tighten on you. And he’s lifting his own hips, driving up into you as you moan his name. Managing a handful of hard thrusts before he’s shuddering with his overload to fill you. Pulling you down to lay on top of him as his spike pulses inside you, he doesn’t want to pull out. Not yet. Wanting to savor that feeling of connection, the warm, blissful hum of your pleasure washing into him through your field.
• Breathing raggedly as you come down from your high, you reach out to trace a new scrape in his chassis. Hate when he comes back hurt, sometimes bleeding. Know his work is dangerous, but that he loves it. And you can’t bring yourself to ask him to stop being who he is for you. “Just a scratch,” he growls and you lay your cheek against him, feeling his chin brush the top of your head as his hand smoothes up your spine. Relaxing into the intimacy of his hands sliding over your body and his still pressurized spike buried deep inside you, your eyes close.
• Knows you’re worrying about him. That you always do when he goes out. He’s also pretty sure that’s why you frag him within an inch of his life on sight when he returns. That worry and fear shifting to heat and need. Reassuring yourself that he’s okay. Understands that need, because he always wants you after a close call. Needs to lose himself in the feel of you. Grounding himself with you. Brushing a kiss against your temple, he feels your fingertips skimming the mesh of his neck as your heart races against him. Unicron himself couldn’t keep him from coming back home to you.
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I’m thinking about cyberverse wildwheel rn do you have anything to talk about him :3
not much but... I was thinking of how he would be as a parent and
this beautiful images graced my Pinterest feed. now i headcanon that if he'd ever have a sparkling or took in one, hes tying them in a cloth or something to keep them to his side and not fall off.
him as a father/sire/mentor figure... whatever you wanna call it would be kind of hilarious because he's super laid back about it. he doesn't know exactly what to do but he's somehow very chill about it. he is not stressed at all.
he's whipping out his kidding from the side like they're his gun
