RELAX Bro

We need more men/masc body types in corsets because this is everything!!

Another probably-human-probably-not Soundwave 😌 maybe a holoform? well this might be the same Soundwave as my other design tbh. Just with a different fit cuz he’s fashionista/j; this was mostly cuz of the veil idea for the mask I thought of today 🤔 I thought it went hard so I wanted to get it out there. That waist of hers is insane

black jeans, half black hoes.

2024 is the year where I make one Beast Wars sticker because god I love Airazor

S H O T - by Soufiane Idrassi

A - Z Megatron X Reader

Rating: T

Warnings: suggestive content

Megatron/AFAB Human Reader in which you find yourself the subject of his not-so-secret scrutiny

I is for Indignant

Megatron was not someone who could be described as discreet. Apart from his immense size and commanding presence - which in and of themselves made him impossible to ignore - his mannerisms were deliberate and unapologetic. You didn't think words like uncertain, embarassed, or bashful existed for him.

However, despite all these things, you were still surprised to catch him staring very openly at your tits one nondescript Thursday afternoon. It was a warm day, so you'd opted for a tanktop. It was form fitting without being overly tight, molding to the shape of your bust, and - as tanktops tended to do - exposed a fair bit of skin. The neckline, while not entirely scandalous, revealed at least two inches of cleavage... which was two inches more than you were suddenly comfortable with.

Snagging the top of your shirt, you pulled it up and over the soft swell of your breasts, hiding the inviting valley between them. His stare didn't waver, though he did narrow his optics as though the action displeased him. Alarmed that he had yet to look away, you cleared your throat loudly and pointedly, flustered blush turning into one of anger when even that did nothing to deter him.

"Can I help you?!"

Where you scrounge up the courage to call him out you'd never know, but the temporary adrenaline rush you got from doing so turns to complete shock when he finally does meet your gaze. The initial eye contact is jarring, despite the fact that that you've been on the receiving end of it before, but it's the slow smirk that creeps it's way across his fang filled mouth that really makes your heart rate double.

He offers no explanation, nor does he appear remorseful. If anything, he seems almost pleased with himself that he's caught you so off guard.

Your position as liaison has offered you the opportunity to work with several Cybertronians over the past year, and while you felt you had a pretty clear read on most of them, Megatron remained an unknown. Regardless of the terms placed and agreed upon by both factions that allowed this tenuous alliance to exist, there was no denying his predatory nature, and the healthy dose of caution that accompanied your meetings with him.

"Nervous?" he drawled. His tone was even, calculaing. His vivid red optics never left you as the exchange occurred, noting your reactions, weighing them. "I had thought we were past that point?"

Willing your hands not to shake, you clasp them behind you, regretting it when you realize the action has pushed your bust outward, drawing his stare once again. You reply with equal parts professionalism and snark, "Past the need for awkward greetings and pointless niceties perhaps, but not so familiar as to forego all sense of decorum, Lord Megatron."

He laughed a little at that. "And yet - given our positions - I suspect we will become far more... familiar with one another, in due time."

You had been ever present for the gradual shift in his feelings toward humankind, watching disdain morph into acceptance and then into begrudging intrigue. This newest change suggested far less 'grudge' and far more 'intrigue'... and you weren't quite sure which made you more anxious. His initial ire... or his current interest.

And it had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with the fact that this new development inspired unexpected reactions in you.

Opting not to reply to his obvious goad, you pry your eyes away from his, finding a very interesting spot to inspect on the wall to your right. You feel his gaze linger like a smoldering weight, and while you were never a gambler, you'd be willing to wager just about anything that if you did chance a look back in his direction, his optics would still be fixated to some of your more... feminine attributes.

'The heat in your cheeks is just indignation,' you tell yourself.

Sillies🥰

All of the gen Z kids from Europe waiting for Americans to either discover aliens or get themselves killed:

Why indeed?

Ratchet, to Wheeljack: It’s like you’re involving me in crime, and I let you. Why do I let you?