Which Do You Prefer, Dreadwing - Topping Or Bottoming?

send 👀 + a dirty thought and/or fantasy your muse has had about mine. let's see how my muse responds.

your muse = sender, my muse = receiver.

Smash or Pass Ghostspire

"...Smash."

Orgasm denial. Orgasm anger. Orgasm bargaining. Orgasm depression and orgasm acceptance.

...Dreadwing immediately feels bad, because Rung looks uncomfortable. He wants to apologize and soothe his friend, but the old mech is already explaining.

... Ah.

Slag.

It's about sparklings. New life. Elegy is the first of her sort that he has come across -- in Dreadwing's world, younglings come about from the planet itself in hotspots, and are physically fully developed. But this is not how everyone does things.

"...Rung," he sighs softly, sinking down to his knees to sit and be better at his dear friend's level.

"I never... I never meant to upset you," Dreadwing asserts lowly. "I do not see you in such vulgar ways, and I am so sorry that I am ... I am so uneducated in the biomechanical physiology of this world."

"You are more than any of those things. You are a creator, yes, but you are more importantly a mech, friend to so many, mate and lover. You are Rung. You are you. You are priceless."

He whuffles. "I have no problem making you these items. All you must do is tell me the specifics. Size, weight, material. If it will help you, I will gladly do so."

Right. Right, then, this isn’t working. Rung’s antenna flatten back against his helm as he lets go of Dreadwing’s servo and reaches up to fiddle with his oculars. He ends up unclipping them to pinch at the thin bridge of his olfactory sensor out of habit as he tries to figure out how to explain.

Quintessa guide him.

“Elegy,” he tries. “I made part of Elegy inside of me. My forge makes photonic crystals, which are the core components of a lasercore, or in modern terms, a spark. I make sparks. Like a manufacturing plant, or the Well. I spent a very long time doing nothing but making sparks, and I am trying very, very hard to prove that I am more than just— a medical curiosity or a production line or an Ornament—”

Realizing his voice had started to fray out into static, Rung clears his vocoder with a polite little click and ducks his helm. “Please forgive me for being agitated about this, Dreadwing. I don’t need to see a medic. I know what the problem is, I am just…”

praising / being praised

Definitely not | No | Not Really | Its Okay | Kinda | Yes | Fuck yes |There goes my pants | Bonus: Giving | Receiving | Both

Praise also has its place! He doesn't get off on it, per se, but being told one is doing their job well is always nice, isn't it?

Send Kink Shame, plus a kink and my muse will tell you if they're into it or not.

The big Seeker purrrrrrrrs against her mouth, jet engines whirring as he returns Air Razor's kiss. His field, kept close to him frame, tangles with hers and enthusiastically shares in her hunger.

Those claws of hers slide lower...

Dreadwing seems to think about it. "Mmm... I will allow it... but only if you let me return the favor after, my sweet."

" Oh really? I wouldn't know why-" One of her arms slides around his neck. Anchoring herself to him as she kisses him with eagerness. Nibbling on the lower part of his lip plate. Wings flaring slightly with want as her free claws skate a little lower," Though I would ever so love to show you some appreciation my handsome dear." Nuzzling him as she tries to look as cute as possibly. She's certain she's ruining it with how eager her field is brushing to his own.

"You keep looking at me like that, and I might start thinking you're interested." + Slowly sliding a hand down their arm, interlacing fingers.

It is some sort of festival. Dreadwing isn't sure exactly what it is for, but the particular section of the sky being closed off, and the bright explosions of color from the fireworks, attracts his attention.

He knows he'd be just as happy staying in, but ... in some self-aware way, he also knows that he should not completely sequester himself from society. The Seeker decides he will go down, have a drink or two, and see what there is to see.

Evidently, Dreadwing had been staring. He starts a bit despite himself, heat flushing his faceplates a little in embarrassment. But... he does not pull away. Where does he know her from?

"Ah," he finally manages through a tight throat. "I apologize. I should not have been staring."

Surely a strong warrior, such as yourself, can weather this virus. Right?

"I am WORKING on it."

choking

Definitely not | No | Not Really | Its Okay | Kinda |Yes | Fuck yes |There goes my pants | HOLY SHIT GIVE IT TO ME NOW Bonus: Giving | Receiving | Both

Sorry, anon. It doesn't really do anything for him either way.