I’m sleepy, so you get a shit post fic 🔞 🌶️ storyline, eventual sparked reader
Dare
Sharkticons x Reader
• Can hear them shuffling about impatiently since they’re not exactly quiet as they argue about who has to wake you and possibly earn your displeasure if you have to guess. Can’t actually understand their snarling without your translator. Sighing, you sit up and the massive bots all duck their heads nervously. Sliding your feet onto the cold floor, hands are reaching for you. Carrying you to your bath even though you can walk just fine and they know it. And since they’re not trying to help or paw you, you’re guessing you have a guest. Stripping as they stare hungrily, you step into the perfumed bath and wash. At this point, you’re used to them watching your every move with obsessive fixation.
• Hurrying your bath when you’d love to just soak in the warm water, you reluctantly climb out and two of them hurry over to dry you, a third draping a loose, trailing robe over your shoulders and you’re striding out into the humidity of the jungle, head lifting when you spot the familiar figure at the end of the lines of waiting Sharkticons, spears in hand. And as you walk, the ends of the spears thump rhythmically into the dirt. Trying to keep your expression blank and dignified, you almost lose it when one of them belts out “baaaaay beee shaaaaah rek” and the rest take up the song even though they have no clue what the words mean.
• And at the end of the line waiting, Lockdown looks like he’s in physical pain as you approach and look up at the big mech. ‘You have a hoard of fanatical, violent beings at your beck and call and this is what you do with that power,’ he murmurs softly even though you know your Sharkticons can’t understand him any better than they can you without your translator. “You’re the one who brought me that alien liquor, so that’s on you,” you counter, turning away as your guards part to let you lead the way through their ranks. “You didn’t happen to bring more of that stuff, did you?”
• Rushing to grab a frond from a sapling, Gnaw growls at the hunter as his little carrier settles in their favorite padded chair. Kneeling by your knee, he rumbles at the other mech and only relaxes when you touch his head with soft hands. Hates not understanding your soft words, but you’d chosen to not wear the little collar that translates for them. A gift from the hunter and his optics narrow suspiciously, because that one isn’t a Sharkticon. Isn’t to be trusted and you’re far too trusting. Rising slowly, he fans you as another Sharkticon hurries over with a tray and Gnaw snarls an outraged warning when the hunter reaches for the tray. Only allowed to eat after you do and several of his brothers growl a warning at the outsider.
• Reaching for a bit of thinly shaved, raw fish, you lean back in your chair. From your best guess, their previous leader had grabbed their favorites and went on a permanent run down the street for milk. Not that you blame them, because these guys are overwhelming most of the time. Desperate for attention and praise. ‘I’m surprised I’m not hearing the patter of little claws, yet,’ Lockdown mutters, reaching for an energon goodie off the tray as every Sharkticon rumbles softly and one of your Sharkticons rushes over with a glass for you. “What?” Choking slightly on your drink, you stare at him. And he’s laughing at you. ‘What do you think carrier means, your highness?’ He asks as you scowl. Sure, your Sharkticons aren’t exactly geniuses, but they can’t possibly think that’s going to work. Right? Glad you didn’t bother with your translator, you shake your head. “Well, that’s not happening.” But if that’s the only reason they pretty much worship you? You might be back on the menu once they figure out your species isn’t compatible that way with theirs. ‘You’re going to have to choose at some point. A consort?’ He adds when you blanch and sink down in your chair. ‘Or several if you’re into orgies.’
🤣 he’s so goofy looking, how can I say no? 🔞 mass displaced mechs 🌶️
Dare Pt 3
Sharkticons x Reader
• Legitimately concerned as you hang over his shoulder, seeing his tail swinging, you don’t think you’re actually in danger. But you’re also not entirely sure you’re ready for your ‘coronation,’ either. Adore your weird hoard of Sharkticons, because it’s hard not to when they’re constantly trying so hard to make you smile and take care of you. And you’re carefully swung down on your feet, his clawed servos reaching for your translator as alarm flares through you and he’s lifting it off over your head. “No, see, I need that,” you say, trying to take it back and he catches your wrist in a big hand. How are you supposed to talk your way out of this without your translator?
• Rumbling as you chirp worriedly, he carefully tosses the translator in among your soft coverings and eases down to his knees before you. Staying mass displaced at all times had been frustrating at first, leaving them all feeling vulnerable, but they’d all started doing it. Trying to stay available in case you decided you wanted one of them. And he’s been listening to you, learning your language from you and from the hunter. Wanting to say the words without the translator when you finally took him to your berth, except you never had. Hadn’t realized you were too shy even though he should have. That you needed him to approach you even though it goes against what he knows.
• Big hands cup your hips as he looks up at you. “Aaaah,” he growls, frowning seriously. “Aaaah luvvv ha-yooo.” And your mouth opens and closes, realizing those are words. That he’s speaking your language. Badly, but he’s trying for you. Just to tell you that he loves you and your resolve wavers staring down into his worshipful optics. It’s only sex, possibly bad sex, but you’ve had bad sex before. Reaching, you cup his cheek and his optics shutter, face nuzzling against your palm. Inhaling slowly before you can chicken out, you undo the sash on your robe and let it fall and the rumbling, aggressive noise he makes has goosebumps lifting along your arms. The backs of your knees hitting the berth as he palms your hips. No warning, just his mouth on you with a hungry snarl, the sharp points of his altmode’s denta brushing you as his lips and glossa move against you and you realize there’s several of your Sharkticons crowding in the doorway watching. Like this needs witnessing.
• Mouth sliding against you as he tastes you, his spike stirs behind his plating. Eager to claim you and be claimed. And those noises you make, prey noises, string him tight. Gasping and whimpering as your hips buck and you squirm. Groaning against your slick flesh when you cry out, he grinds against the side of your berth before releasing his spikes to pressurize and rumbling.
• Thighs trembling as you catch your breath, he straightens and you feel the hard length of him nudge you, and neck craning, you stare at both of his spikes as your mind blanks. Because there’s two stacked one over the other and neither is exactly small, even if the heads are tapered, there are ridges running along the underside as his biolights pulse and you desperately want your translator. Feeling him lining up the bottom spike, and the burn of him stretching you as he grunts that he ‘luvvvs ha-yooo,’ again, the underside of that top spike rubs against you and you realize those little ridges are amazingly semi-rigid as they grind against you. Gasping, your hips buck at the feeling, trying to figure out why you’d been worried about this.
• You’re so tight, so slick as his hips pump against you. And your head falls back against the berth, as you make your maddening prey noises for him. Keeps grunting those words for you with every drive of his hips and you’re chirping urgently. Writhing under him as you tremble and gasp and he groans when you tighten on him with a breathy cry, fisting his spike until he’s snarling, hips jerking when he overloads hard inside you and on your skin. Claiming you as his as he shudders and pressing his mouth against your shoulder, his denta grip you gently in a marking bite before releasing you and slipping free. Waiting for your eyes to open before pressing his fist against his chassis over his spark. “I claim you as you claim me,” he growls, reluctantly moving for one of his brothers to make their own claim. To pledge themselves to you.
• Slightly dazed from the best sex of your life, you’d felt those soft ridges rubbing inside you, against you with every drive and you blink as another one releases his spike and shifts to cover you. His spike stretching you as you try to remember this guy’s name. Hear him growling in their language at you as your head turns, seeing the line queueing up, realizing your coronation is apparently a community event. That you’re expected to claim them all as yours, making you wonder what they’d do if you refused one of them. And the Sharkticon on top of you croons at you in their awful, snarling language, groaning as he begins thrusting and you squirm, toes curling while you arch.
You say the sharkticons are a shitpost story, but you KNOW there's folk out there genuinely loving it and lowkey frothing for more. If I've learned one thing since getting into Transformers, it's that each bot has at LEAST five fans who want to fuck em senseless, often more. And that's beautiful to me ❤️
🤣 yeah, I’ve noticed that. I wasn’t expecting the bugs (Wasp, Tarantulas, the Insecticons) to get any interaction at all when I started their stories and you guys surprised me. But this is why I randomly wrote the Sharkticon story…
It didn’t go as planned… I need more storage sharks…
Dare Pt 2
Sharkticons x Reader
• Watching one of your Sharkticons snarling orders at the others hauling up carts of the weird ore that’s apparently unique to this world, you try to figure out if Lockdown is just messing with you. Doubt it, because he’s been a fairly reliable lifeline for you after landing here hunting for a bounty only to find the Sharkticons had found, and eaten, the mech first. If not for him noticing you shivering and overwhelmed by the snarling aliens after you’d ended up stranded on their world, you’d probably not have survived as long as you have. Reaching up, you absently touch the collar around your neck that translates for you, a gift from him when he didn’t owe you anything.
• Rumbling softly as you call out his name, Gnaw transforms and drops to a knee before you, aware of the hunter watching you. The stranger always watching you when he thinks you don’t notice. But Gnaw does. If you want to take the stranger as a consort, he won’t stop you, but he doesn’t trust the mech. “Your highness?” He growls, staring up at you hungrily. Watches you touch the soft fabrics in the bin the hunter has brought. You’d already hesitantly asked for permission to trade for several food items, when it’s your right to make demands. ‘Do we have enough for some of these?’ You ask and he vents softly, amused that you defer to him. “Of course, your highness.”
• See Lockdown smirk at you and you ignore it. How many times has the bounty hunter told you to order the Sharkticons around? That they expect it from you? But it’s weird to you being waited on and fawned over. Afraid that if you make too many demands they’ll decide you’re not worth the bother and get rid of you. Or eat you since they eat just about anything. Though if Lockdown is right, they’re fully expecting to get something out of taking care of you. Face heating as you stare at Gnaw just kneeling there in front of you, head bowed, you touch the top of his helm. And he stands, rounding on Lockdown and demanding the entire bin as the hunter just chuckles knowingly at you.
• Glowering up at the taller mech as the hunter holds up a hand, Gnaw snarls at his brothers to haul up more of the shiny rocks the hunter always wants. Trying to ignore when you meet the other mech’s optics before glancing away. Wants the intruder gone. Far away from you. Staying in his mech form instead of his altmode, he’s aware of the sullen looks his brothers shoot him. But it’s his right, you look to him for guidance. Striding back to you, he rumbles when you smile at him. How long have they been waiting for you to choose? To pick one or several of them to take to your plush berth? Maybe the mistake has been waiting on you to decide? You’re not a Sharkticon, too submissive and soft.
• About to call out to Lockdown, you smile uncertainly at Gnaw as he growls and he bends suddenly to make you suck in a sharp breath as you’re tossed over a shoulder. Eyes wide, you stare at Lockdown in confusion, because sure they paw you all the time, but they never manhandle you. And the bounty hunter grimaces slightly. “Looks like you’re getting your official coronation, your highness,” he calls out, not smiling anymore as the rest of the Sharkticons turn and stare at Gnaw carrying you over a shoulder back to the temple. Hear a few of them chanting ‘carrier’ and a couple confusedly singing ‘baby shark’ as you contemplate trying to squirm free and run. But where are you going to go? You’re pretty sure Lockdown would just immediately hand you back over to your army of husbands if you tried to go to him for help. He’s definitely not going to risk his neck for you.
I had a funny thought for a Change scenario, specifically for the Sharkticons.
Reader gets changed to have an Orca alt, which is hilarious because orcas love to eat sharks, specifically their livers. Cue the Sharkticons quivering in fear, but hey this is their queen, better not upset them. XD
🤣 poor guys
Change- What If Scenario
Sharkticons x Reader
• Looks just like regular water, certainly nothing magical, but your hoard of Sharkticons are agitated, snapping at each other and growling as you fist the front of your robe standing at the edge. “I’m never getting the smell of Sharkticons out of my ship. You know that right?” Lockdown mutters in your language since you’d removed the collar and set it aside. Afraid of damaging it if this doesn’t work. “You sure about this?” He asks as you glance back at your mates restlessly circling and jostling, but giving you and Gnaw space.
• You’re talking to the hunter in your language and it’s frustrating not understanding. Rumbling, Gnaw kneels at your feet, resting his head against your legs, an arm curled around you. And it soothes some of his irritation when you lay a soft hand on him, answering the hunter. Knows the outsider is a little too attached to you, but also that he can’t just devour him. Not when they need him to find things for you. Had tried to pay attention as the hunter had piloted the ship, to learn, but he’s not willing to try with you on board. Can’t risk you. Chirping softly, you gently disentangle yourself from him.
• “You know what happens if their old leader decides to come back,” you tell Lockdown as Gnaw growls, servos raking against your robe like he doesn’t want to let you go. Get it. Your harem of Sharkticons hadn’t exactly been enthusiastic about you changing yourself, but after finding out what’ll happen to you and any of your mechs that try to defend you if their old queen decides to come back, you want to be able to defend yourself. “Getting eaten alive doesn’t appeal to me.”
• Tensing when you dive in and disappear, he begins pacing, snarling softly. Because if the hunter is wrong, if you don’t come back up, he’s going to enjoy taking his time pulling the mech apart. And he startles when a clawed hand scrapes at the stone. Backing away like his brothers when you pull yourself out of the well and he hears the hunter swearing. Because you’re not a Sharkticon, isn’t sure what you are, but you’re bigger than they are. Somewhat similiar in form, though his instincts are jangling. Screaming that there’s a predator in front of him, but it’s you. Knows you.
• Lifting your hands as you balance on legs that don’t quite bend the way they should, the way you’re used to, you twist to see the blade of your tail. Amused to realize you’re taller than your husbands. Reaching up as your mouth opens, you touch your sharp denta. Hadn’t been sure how this would work, but the well had asked and you’d had a vague idea. They’re not sharks, but they’re sort of sharks. So you’d become their sort of predator. Let that abandoning, bitch try to come and steal your harem now. Turning, you see Gnaw back up slightly, his tail swinging. Probably remembering all the times he’d manhandled you and laughing, you bend and toss him over a shoulder as Lockdown swears softly. Because you’re going to have some fun being bigger than they are. “Oh, husbands,” you growl as they nervously shuffle and back away.
