I see your 'sonar has an oral fixation' and raise you; sonar would die if you sat on his face. Please sit on his face. Put your whole weight onto it too he can handle it he promises-
This ask has been eyeing me every time I check my inbox 👁
warnings: sonar’s oral fixation, sonar's various substance additions, now including pussy!, face sitting, oral sex, sonar being a nasty little freak about it 😌, lots of food metaphors
word count: 1k
Sonar’s never been sure what it is about sucking really anything between his lips that soothes the itch, but there’s nothing like a mouthful of something to take the edge off. It used to be cigs. They came along with a sweet rush of nicotine, the satisfying click of the lighter striking and the lingering glances he’d get, glowing cherry between his lips and a leg kicked up against the midtown high rise. But he’s inside or on the job now more often than not.
And he can't smoke in the office anymore. It’s ‘frowned upon’ and ‘has been illegal for years’ according to Blazer.
He tries going back to an old favorite. A classic from grade school. Then Robert gets pissed real quick when all his pencils are chewed down to nibs after the first week, so Sonar’s back on the prowl for something to curb that particular craving. He doesn’t exactly have teeth for chewing which means gum’s out of the question, and the nice filed square cut of his nails is too good to ruin.
Fortunately for him, there's a certain someone who keeps a little candy bowl on their desk.
It never interested him before. Sonar's not so big on chocolate, call it a hunch, but he's always thought it might kill him. So he steers clear, even though the hand drawn sign's got hearts in sharpie next to the words , "Please take one!" in tempting print. After that it’s mints, but they taste like mouthwash and he’s not got anybody he’s kissing in the breakroom these days, so what’s the use?
Then one day after the holiday you come back with this big ass bag perched on your hip the size of a small child.
Or Beef, maybe.
There’s a glassy jingle as the bowl is refilled and he reads the text on the packaging after it's stuffed under your cubicle.
Some 400 fucking flavors of those tiny dum-dum lollipops ranging from root beer, to blue raspberry, to your pants, my floor c'mon baby—
Alright, so maybe he always thought you were kinda cute. Not in any intentional way, just like how you see an Armani tie bar in the windows downtown and think "well that looks nice, but I can do better."
Although, honesty's never really been in his wheelhouse.
And you do look nice.
He's starting think maybe you're tryin' to classically condition him or some shit, cause he took a psych class once at Harvard and it's a little suspicious how he can't walk by without you holding out your crystal bowl—smirk on your face that's growing more striking by the day—saying:
"Hey Sonar, want some?"
In a voice that swiftly works its way into his nightly 'alone time', if you catch his drift.
Now he's not clueless, he knows what kind of guy he is. The guys at his old office had some words for it, followed by manly slaps on the back. He thought he knew what kinda person you were too, but maybe not.
Even Homer sometimes nods.
It's gotten to the point he can't even enter the bullpen without taking the path that leads right by your desk, ears pricked to attention and his fingers itching to dip inside the smooth cut glass and take a sweet. Pop it between his teeth right away, so he can watch the way your eyes trace his tongue.
Shit, he's really rolling the dice on this one. Taking a gamble for big time winnings. Pulling out the Trump card for his biggest investor.
"Which flavor would you be?" he asks after weeks of torture, like he's offered you the deal of the century, ten times back in returns.
And then you do the last thing he ever expected.
Flip the script. Hit him with a counter pitch of your own.
"I'm really not sure," you've got the top three buttons of your blouse undone, a smart little tease of the goods on offer. "Why don't you tell me?"
And, fuck if he doesn't sign his name on that dotted line right then and there.
You're in Sonar's bed that night, all unwrapped and ready for him to finally get a taste. Get that sweet little treat you've been hiding all this time between his lips until he's finally satisfied the craving.
If only you’d stop holding out on him.
"Quit hovering," he's bitching, but he doesn't care. You've been teasing him with this too long, priming and prepping him to want it so bad he's gonna fucking scream.
His tongue can reach, can swirl and slide through your folds, get a hint of that flavor he's guessing at. But he didn't get you here for just a lick. Sonar wants your pretty candy clit in his fucking mouth, pressed against the smooth edges of his teeth. Wants your pussy gushing sugary slick that gets matted in his fur so the scent stays with him long after you're gone.
"Are you, mmm—sure?"
Oh where’d all that confidence go now, huh? He’s grinning just staring up at his shiny new chew toy. Shouldn’t have played the game if you couldn’t take the heat.
Sonar is not one to half-ass anything, and you’re not gonna ruin that reputation just cause you don’t wanna sit.
You've got your knees on either side of his head, and he can feel them shaking with the effort of staying upright. He works his arms up around your thighs, grabs two fistfuls of flesh and tugs. Pulls and presses until you pitch forward, hands braced in the hair on his chest and thighs against his ears with your weight fully bearing down on him.
God, if that first suck at your folds isn't the best hit he's ever taken.
He'd do a line of you cut on the counter of any shitty bar bathroom.
"Good," he groans, muffled against your ass, reaching a palm up high enough to get a handful of tit. The air is heavy and perfumed with nothing but pure concentrated you, hot and clinging inside his lungs. "Now, fucking stay there till I'm done."
Which won't be anytime soon, but you should have known what you were asking for.
‘Please take one!’
Yeah well, Sonar knows himself. He's a greedy little motherfucker.
PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEPLEASEPLEASE TALK TO ME ABOUT BULKHEAD HES SO GOOD AND WONDERFUL AND OH MY GOD PEOPLE SLEEP ON HIM SO HARD. HES BIG, HES SWEET, HE HAS AN ARTSY SIDE, HES WICKED SMART EVEN THOUGH NOBODY THINKS HE IS AND THINKS HES JUST A BIG CLUMSY LUG, HES THE WHOLE PACKAGE AND THEN SOME.
I just started watching the series and still a bit new to his character, but I always been a bit curious about him since I seen clips and fanart of him here and there, and even though I don’t have much to say about him rn since I just started getting into the franchise, all I know is that I think he’s really neat :3
havent read the comics yet but ngl my favorite prowl moment is when hes a car and fort max kicks him and tells him to untransform so he can fight him properly
i havent reached these issues of mtmte yet but this is so fucking funny. i love you fort max
ok hey so genuinely??? ive had that one piece you did of gangle with the paint-thinner/vodka open in its own tab all day. its the coolest damn thing that looking between that, the one where shes biting her lip(???) with the rolled up sleeves and then the one close up where shes undoing the belt that we can SEE the rendering with the lighting improve between pieces. that and the condensation on the glass and the depth nd volume her ribbons have absolutely blows my mind, im gonna be thinking about it for the rest of the week both from a fundamental standpoint and a 'im pulling this photo out of my wallet to look at my wife' standpoint hjgkmsdgm--
Ehehehe I’m very happy you like it, the notes you’ve left are a blast to read.
Thank you! You’re right, there’s improvement. Also there’s more time spent on each consecutive piece. The belt picture I made far within two days. This latest one (vodka) took two weeks. Mostly because I kept putting it off, lol.
I made three sketches within a day shortly before finishing the lip-bite painting. One of those is posted (vodka). Two more to come, wink.
had a thought while i was doodling. do you think he'd get this static line thing between his antennas sometimes and that they'd do Shapes if hes feeling a certain kinda way.
OHH THAT WOULD BE SO CUUTE 😭!!!
I totally see that happening with him- just a dead giveaway to whatever he's feeling (saying that like he's already good at hiding those things at all lol)
GOD. OK. IM GONNA JUST COME OFF ANON FOR IT BUT TF1BEE ANON OFF ANON BC JUST. ok. roll with me. being some shapeshifting alien blob thing that bee befriends. if we wanna lean into the shrek plot maybe you snatched up an autobot cuz you were curious or maybe one got hurt and you were keeping them safe and eventually bee and optimus and whoever else puss may be (maybe prowl bc hes a sourpuss but i digress) stumble upon you and the other autobot thats with you and somehow or another bee lets you get Real Close. like the both of you are fascinated with the other while optimus and co are futzing about with whatever the A Plot is but for the B PLOT.... DO YOU SEE MY VISION. THIS ISNT A REQUEST, IM BRAINDUMPING BEFORE I FORGET
I am sitting in the front row of the theatre, I am on the edge of my sheet. Pieces of popcorn are crushed between my fist band falling into my lap, forgotten, as I wait with bated breath for more.
YOU FOOL, YOU'VE ACTIVATED MY TRAP CARD. ooguh im so happy about the rock and cybertronians using them as an affection/courting thing- ive a lifetimes collection that i wanna show off to swerve and roddy. that and it'd be fun to show them seashells, methinks. that and you know how there are meanings attached to gems nstuff like with flowers? i wonder if bots have something like that too
WAAAAAAAAAAAH I'VE BEEN CONTAINED! BOXED, EVEN!
I think the same way that certain types or colors of flowers have different meanings, I think different colors, cuts, and makeups of rocks and gemstones would have different meanings as well!
