Mother Of God, This Fanon Of Rodimus Shooting Like A Fucking Machine Gun (while He's Not, In Fact, A

Mother of god, this fanon of Rodimus shooting like a fucking machine gun (while he's not, in fact, a gun, ironically) is one of the hottest things this fandom ever came up with. And I agree with it with all my heart and everything.

Robot premature ejaculators superior.

Rodimus being a valve mech bc his spike is so sensitive that a few tugs is usually enough for him to blow his load

he used to get teased for it by previous partners which made it hard for him to interface for a while since he didn't want to spike and end up getting grilled again especially now that he's a captain

but that's not a problem for Megatron

Megatron loves it bc whenever Roddy is getting to squirmy or too needy when he's trying to slowly take him apart he just starts jerking him off until he's overloaded like 6 times and can hardly string a sentence together and even tho there's a big ass puddle of transfluid beneath him and even more on him he's still rock hard bc he's got like no refractory period

Rodimus bent over begging to be fragged harder while Megatron gently rocks into him and grinding against his ceiling node and kissing his gestation tank wanting to have a romantic night of intimate connection

after Roddy tries one too many times to grind himself back against him Megatron releases the grip on his hip to reach around to his weeping spike and poor Rodimus he whimpers and apologizes promising to behave but Megatron knows he's lying and just saying that so that he isn't pulled over overload after sweet, agonizing overload until his circuits are nearly completely fried

he'll go limp drooling and begging Megatron to fill him up instead and that he just wants to be full which Megatron is more than happy to comply with pulling him in closer and working his way to his own overload popping through the opening to Roddy's gestation tank just as Roddy overloads one last time but from his valve this time and his whole frame shakes with the intensity

Megatron would go to pull out and Roddy would sob lightly wanting him to stay right there and he does just adjusting them both to lay on their sides where they recharge an absolute mess but they'll clean up in the morning

Megatron also enjoys making Rodimus spike him on occasion just to experience his desperate quick thrusts filling his valve with pumps of transfluid every couple of minutes but determined to keep going until Megs overloads too and with how much Megs loves getting his pussy creamed luckily it doesn't take long enough to kill him

there's just something so charming in that determination and the feeling of thick transfluid trying to gush back out of his valve before being replaced and then some is so debauched that he can never get enough of it

on rare occasions he'll ride Rodimus' spike until he's begging for mercy and gets to feel that fat valve cycle down around him nearly passing out when Megatron squirts

Oh, I see posts where I shit on Megatron's character arcs (and I'm not to deny that shitting on them doesn't make them any less interesting to analyze, seriously) finding their way to people. But I must admit, it's not always this bad.  TF:P Megatron's redemption arc: tasteless, but tolerable

Sure shit, everything is considerably less annoying if it's not shoved in your face. The whole ending of this series was rushed due to production issues, and the subplot leading to Megatron's finale just falls into this line. But if you put a not-so-brilliant plot twist at the very end of your story, it may become easy to ignore. I know that a lot of people hated the "Game of Thrones" ending so much they ended up successfully ignoring it. And it's not the ending that we seek in stories, yeah? "The Lord of the Rings" ended with magic and your beloved fantasy creatures leaving the world for humans to dominate. But who the hell loves tales ending and our mundane world beginning?

In short, I just waved Megatron's "redemption" off and genuinely forgot about it. 

And when I try to analyze it, it amuses me in the first place. TFP Megs is just a fucking junkie, hooked on Dark Energon. He spends a decent amount of his screentime either high or craving a shot. And if it doesn't make your expectations of him pretty low, just look at the whole take on his character. Dark Evil Overlord le classique, even his Sauron-ish, armor-like, edgy-spiky desing suggests how they wanted him to be easily read as just evil. Not a lost revolutionary, but a villainy villain.

And then this villain gets himself possessed by Unicron, a.k.a. robotic Satan (who created Earth, lol). Because he did drugs. Don't do drugs, kids, dope lets the devil into your body. The way they wrapped this Christian take on HLS into a robot abusing a magical cosmic substance is just really fun to me. And the possession feels so bad that even the mighty overlord questions his life choices and runs away crying.

The whole thing really drags your attention away from the team Prime's motivation to just let him go. Look, their whole planet is a junkyard, do they even have resources to keep Megs as a prisoner? To hold a trial? 

Shit, at this point I can't even agree that it was a redemption. Megs just took that, didn't like that, went all humbled by his unpleasant religious experience, and bailed pathetically. But maybe being pathetic is not so bad for him, hm?

Όπτιμους ἀνέστη! Happy Easter. I will burn in hell.

TFP Optimus gives a messy egg-birth. Ratchet is here too.

Flying into the Well of All Sparks, Optimus was ready to sacrifice himself, or at least what he's grown used to think of as himself, his frail, mortal form of metal and wires. He was prepared to merge with Primus. Apparently, Primus had other plans.

It started with warm airflow embracing him near the end of the Well, permeating his armor like it was paper thin, overwhelming him, igniting and soothing at the same time, and finally carrying him lightly back to the surface. It continued with his friends' confused happiness. And this new fuzzy feeling, and Ratchet's concern, and a discovery. Oh, the discovery. Optimus Prime not only came back alive. He came back full of eggs.

Living, precious sparks, nested in their vacuoles and soft, translucent shells, were growing inside his gestation tank. The organ designed to incubate one to several eggs has expanded to embrace the holy gift. Ratchet tried to count them but failed. There were just a lot, mostly blue, but some green, pink, and yellow.

Ratchet's medical fascination mixed with religious awe. The more he observed and studied the unique case of his Prime, the deeper it got, even though he had to face things that had to be left out of the equation for others. Medical confidentiality was a thing when it came to Optimus' increasing sexual appetite, to him constantly being on the verge of arousal due to being stuffed in a quite pleasurable way, to his gestation tank pressing on his waste reservoir and making the messiah of Primus visit the waste receiver twice a day. Optimus' increased energon consumption was less of a sensitive issue, yet he was still uncomfortable drinking this much openly, so Ratchet had to watch him fuel in private to control his ration.

So much stayed behind the closed doors of the medbay during Optimus' daily scheduled check-ups. So many little… inconveniences.

When Ratched had Optimus in the examination chair once again, everything seemed noticeably more intense. Optimus seemed more nervous and tired, and he told Ratchet about feeling so full that he was afraid to move. Even his waist plating looked slightly pushed from the inside. He lubricated copiously, letting out oily pink droplets, and the valve visibly throbbed so hard Ratchet called for all his medical professionalism not to growl in frustration and want. He was lying to himself about it being just fascination and awe. Fascination and awe never leave you with your spike in hand after your friend's and leader's daily check-up, moaning and thinking about his heavily pregnant tank.

Ratchet prepared the endoscope, and Optimus tensed. "It's going in," Ratchet informed him, trying to sound calm.

When the head of the endoscope touched the eagerly unfurling petals of Optimus' valve, there was a sound of a small piece of armor retracting. Ratchet tried not to stare at the spike pressurizing, instead focusing on Optimus' frantic apologies. It's alright. They'd been there. No need to feel ashamed. But holy Primus, fuck, how big this spike was, and how big the valve below was, and how smoothly it took the endoscope.

"Ratchet, please, stop." He complied immediately, detecting almost pleading undertones in the strained low voice. Optimus growled, and his hips jerked uncontrollably, grinding on the probing device. "I'm sorry, but I feel like my waste tank may give. The sparks are pressing on it."

"Then we should empty it before it's damaged," Ratchet told him, the phrasing felt odd and ridiculous but was aimed to comfort Optimus, highlighting him being aided and taken care of. The endoscope slid slowly in and out, stimulating the nodes where the tube connecting the waste tank with a small nozzle next to the valve lay close to the inner interface equipment, intertwined with its tubing and energon lines.

Optimus shuddered, and moaned, and started pouring the floor before the examination chair with periwinkle blue fluid. It arched between his legs, soiling Ratchet's hand still holding the endoscope. It wasn't the first time a patient voided the doctor, damn, they've been through the war quite horror-rich, but it was the first time Ratchet didn't really mind.

"I need a sample anyway," he said, grabbing a test tube from a tray and catching the stream with it. It did little to dispel Optimus' embarrassment, but at least it was true and gave Ratchet his pitiful excuse to watch closely his Prime peeing with, with the endoscope inside, open, ready to lay his blessed eggs.

Oh yes, he was ready. As soon as he stopped emptying himself and Ratchet took his hand away to clean it alongside the tool, his body spasmed like it was welcoming a long-denied overload. "Ratchet, I feel my destination almost…" He groaned, not from pain. "They are coming, I cannot hold them anymore."

"No, damn, Optimus, w-wait a minute!"

Ratchet rushed to the shelf, where awaited the basket, voluminous enough to accommodate a prime clutch and padded with soft material. Two seconds later, he found Optimus mindlessly stroking his spike, trying to distract himself and relieve the tension at the same time. His plating noisily rattled against the chair, his broken whimpers made Ratchet's mind dizzifyingly spin and Ratchet's panels open, but Ratchet was left with little time to care. He saw Optimus' valve squirting a jet of lubricant, his whole body contracting, and a first butch of divine eggs falling wetly into the basket.

They were magnificent. Glowing, warm, colorful, fertilized by Primus, and coming from Optimus' overloading valve. Ratchet didn't hear his own praises and prayers, only Optimus' powerful engine roaring, his cooling fans whirring, his shaky in-vents, and beautiful strangled grunts escaping his voice box.

With his own spark pulsing and his spike throbbing, Ratchet held the basket with one hand, using the other to touch the seam between Optimus' thigh and hip plating to draw attention to himself. "You alright, Optimus? Any pain now?"

"I am fine, my friend. How are… they?"

"Perfect, you… You are doing wonderful," Ratchet reassured, the container in his hand was getting heavier and heavier. Optimus' hand never left his own spike, and Ratchet surrendered too. Powerless before the spectacle of life and pleasure and how badly it aroused him, he placed the basket on the floor, right in the puddle, and quickly stroked himself until the blinding overload made him moan and grab Optimus' leg.

It took a couple minutes more and two more small overloads for Optimus to tense in a final one, his spike spilling intensely, his frame using every output to dump the charge. He was crying.

The basket was full, the eggs piled in it, glowing. Each spark was visible inside, each had its own unique song. Ratchet and Optimus, both calming down, could already sense their energy and life.

A gift, a treasure. The future.

Oh, I didn't post it. The whole "Megatron's cannon gets around and gets it on a lot" topic's started with this fic about Megs enjoying his beloved weapon himself. (At this point I've started to wonder, can an arm cannon be considered an arm candy if sexy?)

Can you find that fic about OP humping Megatron's fusion cannon again??

Sure, here it is. I'm starting to feel kinda jealous of this cannon's tempestuous love life.

Why punctuation is important I saw a "bed, wed, behead" post with TFP Megatron without a comma between "bed" and "wed". A Freudian slip occurred, and my train of thoughts was unstoppable as usual. Megatron, the bed-wetter? Well, weird, I've never considered. But, eh, logical.

I recalled a German movie about Hitler hiring a Jewish man to help him improve his eloquence. And there Hitler was portrayed as a nervous addict pissing his bed. It is this type of comedy that makes you wonder what the bloody hell you are watching and WHY, and makes you wanna put your brain in a dishwasher. But now I think maybe it's a legit way to portray a dictator?

Not to mention that being high can make your body betray you in the lowest ways. So, Dark Energon can have an unforeseen side effect.

And all that because of one missed comma. 

(I'm not sure if I should tag this as kinky stuff. At this point, it's not kinky, but maybe we could explore this side in this blog later.)

[This post is sponsored by Minimus Ambus, your favorite grammar Na… oh no, not now.]