Apr 8
Would this count as nsfw
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from Iraq
seen from Canada
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Yemen
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
Would this count as nsfw
I was watching G1 and in the end of the episode Bumblebee got excited to see a convertible car (not an actual bot) and now it makes me wonder about other cybertronians on earth that get crushes on other vehicles and machinery.
The Autobots having posters up of real cars the same way people have sexy girls in their garage. Maybe even going to car dealer's at night just to rut their frames against a car they find cute and some keeping tires to play with. Some might even sneak onto military bases just to have alone time with a jet.
The Decepticons though would steal whatever cute thing they see their sights on and get territorial with their new toys. Megatron would be guilty of this in many accounts for stealing red semi trucks that it becomes a common occurrence but in secret everyone wants a piece. The main issue is that the Decepticons wwould get caught for stealing in plain sight (which Megatron would be pissed about) and when the Autobots are called in to help they see 30 stolen cars, 13 motorcycles , 5 semis, 3 boats and one ambulance all of which had paint transfers, scratches, dents and even unique paint jobs. (would this be objectum for them?)
That last sentence took me out. The answer is yes /j
Part one of random things I think mechs would fetishize/find hot-
Carwashes.
Whether it's their little organic friend wiping them down with a soapy sponge and a nice cloth, or being put through a big industrial carwash and those massive brushes overstimulating them to hell- I feel like it'd feel good. Nice cool water running over hot plating, fluffy soap cleaning away grime and grease so their paintjob is all pretty again.
This applies to robot forms and alt modes, of course.
Maybe while they're in robot form their human washes their spike clean (which is probably about the size of them) and they end up overloading and they have to be washed again and again until they can resist. Perchance a lil frotting against a brush because that absolutely must feel good.
And of course we cannot forget polish!! They gotta be all shiny and presentable!! One of those buffer things has to feel amazing against a spike or a particularly sore joint, buzzing and working out all those scratches. Like a massage gun!!
Now they're all prettied up and ready to flaunt themselves to their team!!
work in progress. plug and play, alt mode x alt mode (Jazz x ...?
tf kinktober 2025, day 9
“Please!” || Bodypaint & tattoos {x||o}
{A tfp Knockbee smut where Knockout helps Bumblebee find a new paint job}
{Warnings: alt mode interfacing, accidental kink discovery, tactile overload, don’t worry about the wet paint it has plot armor, Knockout knows what he’s doing and abuses weaknesses accordingly, Bumblebee’s definitely a repressed freak and I won’t be convinced otherwise}
When the famous Autobot scout he’d once fought so many times in the past showed up at his auto body shop asking him for a new paint job, Knockout was admittedly suspicious at first. Sure, he had very publicly renounced Decepticonism and even helped the Autobots in the final fight against a Unicron-possessed Megatron, but that meant little to nothing when faced with his own crimes— of which there were many. It had taken a deal with the very same scout who now transformed and settled in to the designated area for painting in order for Knockout to escape a brutal prison sentence.
And while he was appreciative of that, he wasn’t nearly glitched enough in the processor to completely ignore the nagging voice of doubt telling him it was some kind of trap. He had renounced being a Decepticon, but that hadn’t instantly undone all the centuries of bad habits he had accumulated while working with the group. Innate suspicion was practically baked into his code now, and it likely wouldn’t go away any time soon.
Regardless, he wasn’t one to pass up a chance to show off his artistic merit, especially if a mech as well known— and well loved— as Bumblebee was willing to be the canvas.
“So you finally got tired of the old yellow with black stripes, eh?” he asked as he sauntered to his table of supplies, prepped for use as meticulously as surgical tools, “About time.”
“Not really tired of it, no,” Bee responded, wheels turning back and forth absentmindedly, “Just looking for something new is all. Maybe something like the black with yellow stripes I had towards the end of the war— now that was a cool paint job.”
Knockout scoffed lightheartedly, “That finish? Spark’s sake, you’re just stuck on yellow and black aren’t you?”
“It’s all I’ve ever known,” Bee defended himself with a huff, “What’s wrong with yellow and black?”
“For starters, it makes you look like a walking warning sign,” Knockout explained as he picked up the spray gun, “Second, there’s nothing wrong with exploring the color spectrum more. Why not try blue? Or green— if you want to stay gaudy.”
“I’m never doing green,” Bee stated immediately, “And blue would match my optics too well. You can’t use too much of the same color, it’ll make everything muddy.”
“True. Very true. Not everyone can pull off such a daring look like I do.”
With the acquiescence, he wandered to his swatch wall to look for this yet decided ‘new’ paint job the former scout wanted.
“So what did you have in mind?”
Bumblebee hummed in thought, clearly unsure now that his preferred choices had been pointed out so obviously. What was he supposed to pick? He had been associated with his usual palate for so long, it felt almost like a betrayal of himself if he were to stray too far from it. Perhaps he was overthinking it, but it felt… strange to do anything too drastic with his finish.
“Wow, you’re putting more thought into this than I expected,” Knockout jabbed playfully, “Careful— I can almost see smoke coming from your vents.”
Bumblebee annunciated a blasé ‘ha’ and looked to the color wall, external sensors flickering across it then back again to find something that called to him. While he waited, Knockout leaned against an empty space on said wall, watching the mech for only a moment before growing bored and glancing down at his sharp digits instead. Bee’s sensors occasionally strayed to the ex-con, expecting him to eventually grow weary of his indecision and hurry him along, but was surprised when he did no such thing.
“Uh, what about… yellow and black with… orange details?”
Primus, now that Knockout had called him out, he suddenly realized how basic his desired ‘new’ paint job would seem.
Knockout huffed, clearly amused, but picked up the colors he’d mentioned.
“I feel like I already know the answer, but do you know what design you want?”
Once again, Bumblebee went silent. Man, he was really bad at making decisions that weren’t immediately life threatening. Broadly, a design didn’t matter all that much, but it felt weirdly important to himself and that was enough to leave him struggling to figure something out.
“I’m not really… I’m not super picky. You’re the artist though; you probably know what would look best,” he conceded, uncharacteristically hesitant.
Knockout raised an optical ridge, obviously skeptical about being the one to choose, though he quickly got over it with a casual shrug. He’d done plenty of frames before who allowed him to make all the decisions about their appearance— that wasn’t uncommon— but it was strange to hear from such a famously self assured mech such as Bumblebee. Regardless, he had a job to do and having full creative freedom to decorate a paint job that wasn’t his own was always exciting.
“If you say so, but I want you to know there’s no refunds if you don’t like the end product. Though I doubt you’ll be disappointed.”
With that ominous warning out of the way, he gathered the chosen paints and some stencils and found his way beside Bumblebee, doublechecking to make sure he had all the necessary tools on standby.
The first step was carefully sanding and priming the former scout’s plating, then letting the primer dry so he could begin plotting out the general strokes in his processor. Bumblebee hummed a tune to himself as he waited, clearly Earthen in origin but unfamiliar to Knockout despite his enjoyment of human media. Speaking of music, Knockout thought, he turned on the speakers in the room to play whatever he felt his client would appreciate and, knowing what little he did about Bumblebee, he would certainly appreciate a cheesy human pop song.
His assumption was proven correct as Bumblebee stopped humming whatever he originally was and began mumbling along to the lyrics of the song now playing above their helms. Another win for Knockout.
He continued his work in relative quiet, ignoring the humming and whispering of lyrics Bumblebee barely knew, right up until Knockout had laid out the color blocking and went in for precise details with a fine brush. Bumblebee suddenly went silent when his sensors registered the new information it was given from the brush, recognizing the feeling vaguely but not familiar enough to put a true name to the sensation just yet.
Despite his best efforts, a noise escaped him. It was quiet— barely there at all, really— but in the large, cavernous space of the garage, it may as well have been speaking level in volume. He was positive Knockout heard it, given away by the former medic’s short pause before he continued working like nothing had happened.
Logically, it made sense that the medic-turned-workshop artist had likely heard everything from the screams of war injuries to the uncontrollable giggles of ticklish mecha, but that didn’t really reassure Bumblebee. He was most known for his quiet intelligence and occasional bout of dry humor (courtesy of Ratchet, certainly), so accidentally revealing a sensitivity to a former enemy felt like it was going to come back to haunt him one day. The war may have been over for some time now, but the war could never truly be removed from the soldiers who survived.
He cleared his throat, which was more a human habit than anything a Cybertronian needed to do, and resettled himself, keeping as still as possible. That quickly became difficult to manage as the brush traced along invisible guidelines only Knockout could see. He had experienced plenty of things in his eons of life, including horrific pain and even death itself, but this feeling was different. It wasn’t quite tickling as the sensation seemed to reach under his plating and made his transformation seams tingle in a foreign way. He thought he knew the name for the feeling, but it eluded him like a target hidden in thick fog.
When the small brush glided over his doors, Bumblebee stifled another noise as the tingling grew from surface level to spark-thrumming in just a split second. Try as he might, however, Knockout was simply too close to not have heard his attempt to silence himself or noticed how he stiffened. Much to his dismay, Knockout chuckled knowingly.
“If I had known you were this sensitive during the war, that would’ve been used against you immediately.”
Bumblebee laughed a hesitant sound, which turned into a gasp as the brush kept to its path along his slowly heating plating.
“Sorry,” he apologized habitually, “I didn’t know I was this… ticklish. I usually do all of my own painting.”
Knockout scoffed, “I had assumed so.”
“Oh c’mon, I don’t do that bad of a job!”
That got a laugh out of the former ‘con, short and abrupt and unfiltered in a way that suggested it wasn’t intentional. Before he cold parry that wordless insult, Bumblebee tensed again when the brush traced just under his driver’s side headlight, unable to stop his own unintentional noise— although the choked moan that escaped him was far more damning than even an evil sounding cackle.
The room went still, the only sounds echoing throughout it being the dull music and Bumblebee’s fans, which had clicked on immediately after his blunder. Primus, this was so incredibly awkward.
“Ticklish, eh?” Knockout’s crooked smirk returned full force, a new glint entering his optics, “Is that really all it is?~”
Bumblebee felt himself sink more weight onto his wheels, quietly groaning in embarrassment.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for that to…” he petered out weakly.
“Oh, don’t be,” Knockout assured with a dramatic placement of his clawed servo on his chassis, “I know it can be difficult to resist my charm. I take it as a compliment.”
“I promise it wasn’t intentional,” Bumblebee continued pleading his case, “It’s just- I don’t… it’s been a while since someone else touched my plating— touched up my plating, I mean.”
He was only digging himself a deeper grave at this point, but he couldn’t stop himself from babbling. Not until another brush stroke cut him off with a stuttered moan.
“Okay, you’re doing that on purpose now!”
“Who, me?” Knockout asked in mock innocence, servos steady at work even as he continued speaking, “Now why would I ever taunt someone like that? Just what are you insinuating, Bumblebee?~”
“You feel up all your clients?” Bee parried back when he got his fans under control.
“No, just the sensitive ones who intrigue me.”
Knockout paused for only a half klik.
“That was purely a joke, by the way. Even if you weren’t an enforcer, I would never do something so salacious— not in public at least.”
“That why there’s no one else here today? You wanted to get me alone, huh? Kiiiiinda weird.”
“I’ll have you know that most mecha don’t get a brand new paint job just before a predicted dust storm and my only other client today cancelled, so despite what you may think, ‘getting you alone’ was not intentional.”
He knocked Bumblebee’s thoughts out of alinement again with a particularly firm stroke to his lower side plating.
“Besides, we both know I’m much more forward in my advances. The music would have been a completely different genre had I truly wanted to woo you.”
“Huh. Could’ve fooled me,” Bumblebee chuckled, finding a groove in the banter and going along with it now that he was over the worst of his surprise.
“I could always stop, find a different brush, one that doesn’t rev your engine so hard perhaps,” Knockout paused to shrug and clean the brush to apply a different color to it, “Then again, if you had wanted to stop me, we both know you have the combat experience. And I’m not the kind of mech to ignore a firm ‘no’— I may have been a Deception, but I’m not that deplorable.”
Bumblebee hummed in agreement, finding himself strangely appreciative of the reassurance. In truth, he hadn’t quite expected the mech whose natural state seemed stuck in ‘flirtatious mode’ at all times to immediately concede to another’s denial, but it was a rather nice surprise.
“That being said;” Knockout moved down to his left taillight, letting a free servo lightly brush his side along the way, “I’m not opposed to ‘getting a little handsy’, if you’d prefer.~”
Bumblebee couldn’t help the shudder that wracked his frame, his fans kicking to another gear as his internal temperature jumped higher. It had been so long since he’d had the chance to be physically intimate with someone, he wasn’t sure if he could deny such an offer. He certainly didn’t want to, so he accepted with only a second of thought.
“I guess I’m not opposed,” he stated coyly, wiggling his wheels, “As long as you watch the paint.”
Knockout, clearly understanding Bumblebee was mocking him, rolled his deep red optics and resumed his line work. This time, however, he rested his free servo on his closest back window, tracing down and to the side until he drew invisible circles beside one of his taillights. Bumblebee shivered, humming pleasantly as the tingling feeling returned to his touched plating. Alongside the added coolness of the drying paint, it made for an odd but not unwelcome sensation that forced him to vent warm air from his systems. But just as the charge building within him grew close to reaching its peak, the servos working on him pulled away, leaving him confused.
“Wha-?”
“My work here is done,” Knockout stated proudly, circling the other to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, “Well, the fun part anyway. The paint still needs to dry before I add the protective gloss, but the coloring is complete.”
He knew what he was doing. He had pulled away on purpose right when Bumblebee was really starting to enjoy himself. Once a ‘con, always a ‘con.
But he wasn’t the type to quit in the middle of a race and he knew Knockout wasn’t either. The shared behaviors of muscle cars and speedsters, he supposed.
“Welp, what a shame,” he sighed as put on the most aloof act he could despite how his fans spun loudly, “And here I was thinking about leaving a tip if the ‘fun part’ took a little longer.~”
The insinuation piqued Knockout’s interest just as he thought it would, and he took the obvious bait more than willingly.
Carefully placing a servo over his hood and leaning forward, Knockout pinned him with a burning gaze that almost reminded Bumblebee of the one he would wear when he was winning a battle during the war. Except back then, there was more of a lust for victory than the current lust he exuded now. Bumblebee immediately decided this was a far better look on him.
“You have my attention,” Knockout traced along the seam of his hood just to pull another groan from him, “I can’t pass up an opportunity to earn a tip.~”
Yeah separately because that is. A whole can of continuity-hopping-worms that I’m not ready to open. I just want to bang the old men!!!!!!
As the pole dictates, I'm going for Alpha Trion in his alt mode. Consider this a prequel to Solitude. Will I ever do the TFA Ultra Magnus soft femdom? Probably someday, I already started writing it.
I rarely see the usage of pheromone when it comes to human x cybertronian interfacing.
Just imagine, human sidekick of a Autobot/decepticon having their body hot just by thinking of the big robot. Panting, huffing, etc as they chase their release of the thought of the alien. And the alien in question is detecting heat radiating from their human friend and worries and confusion fall upon them, thinking "are they getting sick? I swear it's probably that 13th beer doing this to them."
Another case scenario in my mind, is that the human were sleeping inside Autobot/decepticon alt mode before waking up from the fifth wet dream that week and just couldn't hold it anymore so they just start jerking off in there. They whine a little at the bot named, wishing them to fuck, to fill them up. Just anything. The bot (who's in recharge) wakes up as heat start to rise up at the human pheromones, and before they ask "did the ac/fan not turn on?" They saw the sight of their human friend fingering/rubbing themselves or using a sex toy they brought for 'no reason' at the backseat before shooting/squirting load on to the car floor or maybe dripping down to the seat
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I love entertaining the idea of bots being attracted to earth vehicles. Maybe a bot getting so desperately horny and humping one is kind of like resorting to using a sex doll or pillow humping for them. Or maybe one who isn't so desperate, but simply finds a certain vehicle irresistibly attractive. Having to sneak onto the property at night to use it. Even better if there's a huge risk of them getting caught by the human who owns it, but being so tempted anyways.
I imagine a more reluctant bot starting by simply jerking off to it, but eventually can't resist the smooth metal, the glint of the windshield or the juicy shine of the paintjob and ending up frotting their array against it. Painting it in their transfluid, and being left with post-nut shame and a bit of a dilemma. Should they run off, reducing the risk of being caught at the scene of the crime, or figure out some way to clean up the evidence?
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