So, I got another Blokee and for the first box I opened, I got Grapple.
I did pretty good at first, but I quickly realized that Grapple only had one part of the thigh and I don't have another one to complete him. So he's forever one-legged until my sister can try making a mold for him.
I just hope her being good at making nails can translate to parts. And also I double checked around my room and the box, so no extra part I'm afraid. π
Oh no! Blokees might be able to send you the missing part if you reach out to them!
Lineage
TFP Optimus x Reader
β’ Watching you and the other humans making lunch, he canβt deny that he enjoys the soft chatter. That itβs relaxing in a way he didnβt expect. Turning the base into something that feels more like home. βOptimus, I need you to look at this,β Ratchet says and he turns. Reaching to take the datapad from the medic, he frowns at the readings and the lines of medical findings. βIβm sorry, but what am I looking at?β He asks at a loss.
β’ βYou know Iβve been working on figuring out why weβre so compatible with humans,β Ratchet begins and he nods. Had been curious about that as well, because what are the odds? Another race so different but so similar to their own. βWell, I figured out the why and I wish I hadnβt,β the medic adds sourly and he hears one of the humans laughing nearby. βWhat is it?β He asks, not sure that he wants to know. Because Ratchet doesnβt look particularly happy by whatever heβs found. Making him sure itβs bad.
β’ Watching the medic press his servos to his temple as he vents tiredly and glance over at the humans, Optimus is tempted to tell the other bot heβd rather not know if itβs that bad. Were your kind bioengineered by the Quintessons? Part of an experiment that was later abandoned? If so, why? βTheyβre Unicronβs spawn,β Ratchet says on a growl and his processor blanks. Staring at the medic in disbelief. βI donβt know how or why, but thatβs why we can spark bond. Why thereβs anything to spark bond to.β
β’ And they both turn to stare at the laughing humans. Trying to understand how you could possibly be Unicronβs descendant. Creation? Because thatβs worse than if your species had been a Quintesson experiment. But your head turns when you feel him staring and you smile, lifting a hand in greeting. βCould the readings be wrong?β He asks, unsure how he feels. Youβre still you. But Unicron? Itβs strange to realize that despite the dawning horror, he doesnβt care. That it changes nothing about how he feels for you. Even if itβs deeply unsettling. βTheyβre not wrong.β
β’ βWhy are they staring?β You mumble to the person beside you and they shrug. βMaybe theyβre waiting on us to do a trick?β Snorting, you go back to dicing vegetables. But theyβre still watching you. Can feel their optics on you. Maybe theyβre just curious about the cooking. Know Bulkheadβs taken some interest in when you and the others prepare a meal as a group and sometimes asks to help. Could also just be aliens being aliens, though. Sometimes theyβre just weird.
Unicron:Β Did you take out Optimus Prime/Prima Prime as I requested?
Henchhuman!Y/n:Β He has been taken out, yes
Unicron:Β Β You're my best spawning minion-
Henchhuman!Y/n:Β Β It was a great restaurant
Henchhuman!Y/n: We had a romantic candlelit dinner
Henchhuman!Y/n:Β He proposed afterward- weβre filing the wedding papers; he wanted to marry me in both on his culture and my own,We are looking for a spring theme-
Y/n*Coming down seeing your cybertronian not on the other side of the bed on christmas/Valentines morning, coming down to see them wrapped in wrapping paper and sighs*There goes my entire supply of vintage wrapping paper... you're lucky you're cute
Cybertronian: I read this is a way to invite to frag...
Y/n*Cuts the areas where his optics are*Your a little confused, but you got the spirit~
I want to catch up on some of Tim Drake centered comics but I donβt want to read the ones where it has Bernard in them , I hate that bland saltine cracker
So I would appreciate it if yall could tell me which runs to read
Characters: Tim Drake x Blue Lantern!MALE Reader
Summary: Tim 'freaky' Drake really loves his boyfriend. He loves his looks, his love, his hair, his clothes, yet he finds himself dreading the lack of spice in their sex life. Finally finding the courage to speak up, he finds out you're just as freaky as him too...maybe even freakier.
Warnings: SMUT! Tentacle sex, sounding, bondage with tentacles, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, using lantern ring to make sex toys basically, cursing. Dom! Reader. Sub! Tim.
A/N: Yo I almost scrapped this...Person who asked for more Tim Drake smut, hopefully you're also this freaky...ha...ha...uh...
Every person dreams about finding their life partner, their soulmate.
It's taught to while you're growing up. Find someone who is kind to you. find someone who won't judge you, find someone who will care for you, find someone who will stick with you through 'sickness and health', find someone who will stay 'till death do you part'.
But no one actually talks about how hard it is to have a sex life.
Much less a fulfilling one.
Tim isn't lost on the fact that he's into some pretty weird shit, 'weird' to most people at least.
Sure, Tim didn't have an overly tragic childhood. No, his parents didn't plumet to death before him. And no, Tim didn't get blown up in a warehouse after his own mother betrayed him. However, he did have a lot of alone time.
A lot.
As well as unrestricted internet access.
You were the opposite.
You didn't even know about the internet -Earth's version of it at least- until you came to Earth.
You're human, born -yet not raised.
Darkside had made you, cloned you, studied you. For all your years of living you had grown up in a lab, a test tube. Poked at, prodded, tortured. Determined to find a weakness he could use, manifest a sickness, a virus, anything he could use to wipe humans out of as a whole without any of them crawling out like undeterred cockroaches.
Tim doesn't know how you did it, how you escaped, how you got a blue lantern ring, how you even kept hope in a situation like that - not knowing the joys about anything outside Apokolips. You claim you had prayed to whatever higher power your mind had made up, that each night you quietly asked it to free you. Tim never got anything more than that though.
But you still did it. You escaped, and you made it to Earth, and you met him.
And he loves you. He loves the way your knuckles graze over his skin, smoothing out any bumps and bruises he may have had from that nights patrol; your ring curing him of any pain before he can even think of having it. He loves the way you don't look away when you smile or laugh. He loves the way your hair frames your face. And he loves the way how you're so patient and understanding with him, not judging him about whatever insecurities he may have that week.
Blue Lanterns are healers, they're religious zealots, bringers of hope, optimism. He's overheard Hal talk about how most devote themselves to their faith, refusing to indulge in certain pleasures.
Luckily for him, you're not one of those. You still eat what you want, and drink, and have intimate relations -which he knows of that fact first hand- but he was worried you'd be more...conservative.
As in...thinking a praise kink is the kinkiest thing ever conservative.
And every time he looked at you, every time he had a lewd dream, every time he got a hard on just from the way your muscles rippled when you flexed, every time he blushed whenever you'd lick food so innocently off your fingers, every time he thought about going farther than just simple vanilla sex with you, he got this deep churn in his gut.
Guilt.
Disgust.
Anxiety.
You never mentioned wanting to do anything further than vanilla sex. The same thing went for you jerking eachother off, or using heavy hands when you were making out. Hell, the kinkiest thing he can think of the two of you doing is you giving him a blowjob in the bathtub.
So, he never mentioned it either.
So, he never mentioned all the dirty thoughts he had about using your ring - of religion, of peace- to help conquer all the dirty thoughts in his head.
So, he never mentioned you making a copy of yourself, and he never mentioned making up all the sex toys he could only see in his dreams, and he never mentioned you just suddenly thinking up a vibrator in his pants all of the sudden in public - teasing him while he couldn't do anything about it.
Because you're just too sweet.
Because you're just too nice.
Because you're just so...normal, in the weird...space cop...vigilante...life kinda way...
Because how do you ask your religious driven boyfriend if he'd like to be collared and whipped while your whispering words of degration and pleasure in his ear?
How does Tim ask you to squeeze his throat until he can't breathe?
How does Tim ask you to make an energy copy of yourself so he can have a three way with just you?
How does Tim ask you to fuck him in the public bathroom?
How does Tim ask you tug on his leash till he's all but sobbing for you to let him cum?
How does Tim ask you to-
"Oh yea, chew chew, I'm into that." You mutter all too casually, mild mannered as you munch happily on cucumber sandwich Alfred made you.
Tim can't even speak, he was just bringing kinks up for a joke and you were all too casual about it.
"You know chew aliens get pretty freaky," You turn to look at him, those wide eyes consuming his soul, "chew chew it's actually kind awesome. When I spent my 8 months wandering around space..."
It's make him feel even more embarrassed about how much of a child he's been about it, shame creeping up his neck and burning his ears even more so than when he was fantazing about you sexually torturing him for hours.
So when he finally opens up to you, when he finally spills about all the filthy fantasies he's been having, when he finally admits he's been living off porn and hand jobs.
He can only soak in the shit eating grin on your face.
All too filthy for a lantern of your stature.
All too sinful for a man of your faith.
And all too arousing for him not to let you guide him to the bed right there and then.
Tim releases a shaky breathe, nerves on edge as he feels you kiss the inner skin of his thighs. A small, needy, whimper hitting your ears as you professionally avoid his weeping cock - it nearly drowning in Tim's pre-cum.
Tenacles climb up his legs, coiling, wrapping, claiming. And fuck- fuck Tim tries to ignore them. But they're crawling up his calves, caging in his thighs, and pulling him apart so he can't hide. Can't hide from them. Can't hide from you.
He asked for it, he would've begged for it - down on his knees and sobbing like some pathetic wuss if you didn't always give into him so easily. But the embarrassment almost makes it all too much to look at. Their bright blue glow making them even harder to ignore in the already dark city of Gotham, in the dark corner of the city Tim Drake called him apartment.
He's unsure if he should see his flexibility as a blessing or a curse at this point. The position you have him in has his ears burning, his thighs trembling. His two limbs pulled open wide enough to leave him on display for you, like some kind of fancy meal on a golden platter.
Each of his legs are pressed to either side of him, knees caged to the bed, thighs trembling, his cock as hard as steel - twitching all too noticeably. The tentacles tightened around him, like they could feel his ever growing his arousal; grip almost bruising on his thighs.
The appendages have crept up and over his body, taking him over, controlling him, locking him in so he had no more sense of self. There's one that's holding his wrists above his head, hugging them together. He can't touch himself, can't jerk himself off, can't even pull at his nipples, can't get himself over the edge without you, and he can't hide.
For once he can't hide.
He can't shove your face in his neck, he can't cover your eyes, he can barely turn his head away.
His cheeks burn, and Tim doesn't know if he wants you distracted by that, or more distracting by his cock begging for attention like some spoiled child.
Yet, you're too busy kissing up his stomach for either of those things. Wet -peppered- kisses leaving a trail up his navel before you move up to his chest. Tim barely holds back a hiss when you offer a teasing nibble to his nipple. His legs try to jerk up to cage you in, to stop you, but the tentacles are relentless.
"You are a dick," Tim hisses between shaky breaths, already embarrassingly turned on - even more so with the lack of stimulation to his aching dick. His chest is heaving, and he can't tell if his eyes or his cock is more leaky. He's certain you feel his nails crevice into the tentacles locked around his wrists because you finally glance up with those aggravatingly beautiful eyes, "You're going to be the literal death of me."
You blink, silent, and Tim barely hold back a groan at just how close you are. Your hovering right over him, he can feel your body heat, yet he can't touch you, he can't kiss you, and you aren't touching him, "You don't like it?"
Tim wants to cry when you look back down at his dick, like double checking it wasn't deflating.
But he just whines instead, a whimper ripping from his mouth when his hips jutter upwards; a third tenacle sliding right up his perineum. Rubbing up his cock head in a way that makes his thighs try to slam shut, only to tremble in failure as the tentacles wouldn't let him.
He did like it, fuck, he loved it; and he hates that he does.
The embarrassment soon rubs off though as the tentacle swirled around his tip, teasing the slit as it smeared his own precum along his length. He groaned, rocking his hips up as a quiet moan left him; toes curling and you pull away from him completely, leaving him whining for your body heat.
He feels like he's in the middle of a porno, his blurred up eyes being gently wiped away by a stray thumb. The tentacles feel cool compared to his heated skin, slithering slowly like they're calming, like they're not trying to pull him apart at the seams and stimulate every ridge of him.
A choked gasp leaves Tim's mouth when a tentacle slides up to tug on one of his stiff nipples. The tip rubbing around the pink nub, causing goosebumps to scatter amongst his skin. Tim's upper teeth tore into his bottom lip, pressing down enough it hurt. Pressing down enough to silently moan, to silently watch as his body was relentlessly played with, used as a toy; but the appendages had other plans.
Like a snake waiting to strike, the tentacle around Tim's dick stayed pliant...still...Instead, a different tentacle decided to wrap around his neck; slithering slowly, coiling behind his head and slithering past his jaw before prodding gently into his mouth. Tim let out a muffled groan of surprise as his lips were forcefully opened, strings of saliva dripping as the tentacle protruded into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. Making the moan that leaves his mouth that much more loud, that much more heard.
That's when the tentacle around his dick finally pounces, slipping itself around Tim's dick and squeezing.
And Tim feels like its sucking the soul out of him.
Tim cries out, gasping, whimpering, body convulsing as he tried to move; only for the tentacles chained around his legs to squeeze harder, tighter, keeping him as a willing prisoner in his own pleasure. The one coiled around his neck soon followed, limiting his air, warning him - the action much more arousing than it should be as his cock pulsed in waves.
He squeezed around nothing as two tentacles lifted his hips up.
Another one appeared, thick, long, girthy- big enough to make even Tim swallow nervously, sweating. The new tentacle crept forwards, dripping, drowning, coiling, in gods knows what kind of secretion. Slowly creeping towards him and Tim's hole twitches; squeezing in anticipation.
Tim felt the neck tentacle press down on his mouth, wiggling, as Tim moaned -panting. The Bat squeezing his eyes shut -dripping tentacle slithering up the shy of his thigh- the sensation of whatever secretionΒ the tentacle had making him shiver as it slipped towards his ass. It felt cold, wet, all too real for something just made from your ring.
You must be filthier headed than he thought.
And that just makes Tim even harder.
He's shaking, gasping, crying out as the tentacle rims him - once, twice, three times- before pushing in completely.
And he looses it, a broken cry leaving him as the thick of it pushed inside of him; not even touching his prostate before he was convulsing around it.
Sparks shot through his body, and he had just enough room to wiggle his hips, arching, shaking, crying out in a long wail.
Tim was coming.
His balls snapped.
Hard.
Jaw dropping open, he sobbed out; slack jawed and shaking as his entire body rutted. Trying to fuck himself on the tentacle even further. Thick ropes of cum shot across his chest, sending him gasping for air at just how hard his body lurched, how hard he convulsed, how hard he cried, his head thrown back, riding through his orgasm as the tentacle finally reach his sweet spot.
And holy, fucking, shit it feels so good he thinks he's going to die.
It was moving now, thrusting, fucking him faster than he ever thought possible as he raised his hips. A silent beg for more despite how violently he was shaking, despite how full he already felt, despite how thick his tear were in his eyes, despite how raw his throat felt from crying out.
Tim's abdomen clamped out, breathing out in shaky breathes and moans as he struggled to regain his senses.
Every crevice of him was full, every nerve was shot.
Yet, the tentacle didn't stop.
He's dripping, crying out, sobbing. Tim's own drawn out moans acting as his thanks when the thrusting doesn't stop, carrying him, leading him, throwing him over and beyond his edge, then taking him past that.
And it feels so good.
So fucking good.
Overstimulation wracks through his body, up his spine, through his brain, shooting down to his quaking toes as he shakes like some brittle leaf. His eyes are stuck rolled back, hips juttering, chasing, begging for more as they meet the slick tentacle best as he can mid thrust. And it's rubbing, it's thrusting, squirming against his sore bundle of nerves and milking him for everything he has.
Then he feels it.
He gasps, body jolting.
Eyes searching.
Tim nervously whimpers as he feels something graze his urethra, baby blue eyes finally coming to when he sees you climbing onto him as best as you can; careful not to get in the way of anything. Only replacing the tentacle that slips out of his mouth- kissing him slowly, carefully, like you weren't fucking him so good, making him get so filled - your gentle kisses the eye of the storm. Swallowing his moans and wails of pleasure as every other tentacle stays were it was, the one around his neck releasing some pressure so he could finally breathe properly. His cries from being continuously fucked so well only become louder when you pull away from him. The tentacle squelching hastily with each thrust.
Your hand cradles his face, and his tears dampen your palm, tear ridden eyes gazing up at you; dazed, unfocused. Yet he can tell that turns you on even more, your lips pursing as you pull away. Letting him gasp and nuzzle into the pillow instead.
Every breathe brought a noise with it, whimpers, whines, moans, grasps, groans - all of pleasure. His body rocked with each thrust, trembled each slide against his nipple, shivered with each squeeze around his neck.
Then it happens.
A choked gasp tumbled past his lips, gurgling, eyes widening. You came back down, comforting, wiping, stroking his wet cheeks. Tim could feel it. And he barely saw it before you covered his view. The wiggling, squirming, the tiniest hint of blue slowly seeping into his cock.
And for once, Tim's reflexes failed him.
"U-Ugh- A-Ah! Fuck!" He cried out, face jolting against your hand as he cried out. His dick burning, flaring up, cock being filled with what felt like hot lava.
You soothed him, whispering sweet nothings in his ears. Singing praises he couldn't even comprehend through his tears, but his cock got harder none the less.
"You're okay..." You mutter, entire focus on your boyfriends face; making sure its all pleasure and no pain. That the uncomfortable burn of the stretch in a place it shouldn't be isn't too much as the tentacle pushed into his dick inch by inch, entering his urethra, "You're okay."
Tim was more than okay.
"F-Fuck! Fuck!" Tim cried out, his abdomen cramping up, his gut twisting and turning. His hips stuttered, launching themselves into a rutted frenzy, fucking up into the air. Into the tentacles squeezing around his cock, fucking the tentacle entering his dick even deeper as he let out a high pitched moan.
You watch, eyes sharp on his expression as he moans, gasping out, panting, drooling, "Are you oka-"
"Oh fuck- fuck- fuck- fuck-" Tim rolls out a high pitch whine, and sees you blink, reeling back in worry; but he shouts out before you can even think about raising your ring finger, "O-Oh, god- g-god, please, please, please, please-" He whines, hips stuttering, "Oh god- baby, please- don't stop- don't stop- o-oh-"
Tim's head slams back into the head board, jaw slack and he cries out, entire body sleek in sweat and shaking. He can't tell where the pleasure starts and stops anymore.
Then the tentacle pulses inside his cock and he fucking looses it.
Pleasure shoots up his mind. His back arching as the small apendage yanked itself out of his cock, allowing his second orgasm to come to be.
He's shaking, wailing, sobbing, gasping, eyes rolling back into his head and his teeth are shattering from the mere power of his orgasm. He's fucking himself both ways, rutting down onto the tentacle as the other appendage briskly strokes him through his peak. Powerful white ropes shoot from him cock and land on his chest, crying out a broken wail of your name.
Tim doesn't know when you got above him, but his nails are tearing through your skin, marking up your back, and he's finally claiming you just how you claimed him. Finally touching you. Finally feeling you. Finally kissing you.
He feels like he's flying, breathes being replaced with moans. Hips juttering, squirming, wiggling, slick dripping from his hole and sullying the bed sheets. His ring muscles tight and unyielding, not letting the tentacle pull out past a certain point before it could slam back into him again; crinkling another wave of pleasure down to his toes.
Tim's panting, body going limp, pliant. Your peppering kisses staying with him as you kissed him down his neck, muttering words he can't make out against the heat of his skin.
His brain is fuzzy when he opens his eyes again, and he thinks he passed out. Because when he comes to you're wiping him down with a cloth that suddenly feels all too rough for his skin, hole twitching while you cleaned the secretions that your ring had produced.
He blinks sleepily, body aching and tired.
Tim almost feels feverish, and he can already tell patrol is gonna be such a bitch later.
He mutters something incoherent even to him, finally closing his eyes again, the promise of sleep sounding much too tempting at that point.
Yet, he gets the best look of his life.
Your cock, rock hard in your pants, hips twitching, rocking, slightly as they tried to chase the friction of your jeans, begging, pleading for its own release after fucking him oh, so good. Only to be ignored as you wiped him clean.
He barely grins, world going black, knowing he'd have to return the favor next time.
I need Sg Bull Y/N getting double fragged by Megatron and Starscream just to establish dominance towards the autocows (it was Soundwave idea)
SG bull!reader canβt seem to catch a break, on one end you have starscream bouncing up and down your spike while Megatron is shoving his so deep in your valve while his servos wrap around starscreamβs neck, knowing how you secretly like it despite not looking like the kind of bot to enjoy seeing others getting choked,
Or the other way around, it doesnβt really make any difference seeing how the best way for you to breed either of them it with a spike in your valve seems to do the trick real fine, and theyβre planning to use it thoroughly
If I havenβt expressed my unfiltered hatred towards Cairo before, then here I am doing it now (have to attend a wedding there), and that is how you know I am from Alexandria, people from Alex dislike non-coastal cities.
If I havenβt expressed my unfiltered hatred towards Cairo before, then here I am doing it now (have to attend a wedding there), and that is how you know I am from Alexandria, people from Alex dislike non-coastal cities.
