“Think I'm out of words to rhyme; I'm that penny, nickel, dime!”
Robot! Clockwork (Roblox) x Robot! Reader
Content Warning(s) : NSFW, No Penetration, Wireplay, Shy Reader, Robot Reader, 3.8k Words
You wouldn’t consider yourself a sexual person — not at all. Your systems weren’t created with reproduction in mind. But that didn’t mean you didn’t get curious, after all, it was a robot's job to collect as much information as possible.
That’s what led you to your current predicament, fist raised just above the hard wooden door, hands knocking a familiar tune that you couldn’t name. Unfortunately, when it came to the amount of people you could count on for help right now, you could only think of one person.
It didn’t take long for the door to open, your friend having expected your visit since you made sure to contact him beforehand. “Come in,” he spoke, his smooth voice making you anxious as Clockwork shut the door behind you.
He was the only other robot you knew, the only one you trusted enough to come to with something so . . personal. The two of you had known each other for a while, and you would even go so far as to consider him one of your closest friends. You weren’t the type to call for help unless you truly needed it.
He was quick to sit you down, the table already cleaned as he sat across from you, waiting for you to tell him the reason behind your ‘urgent’ meeting. It was that closeness that made him feel trustable, reliable — the reason behind the casualness of your question.
A part of you knew that if you weren’t specific, he would’ve found some sort of loophole to avoid answering you. If he wasn’t going to answer your questions, then you had no choice but to be direct about your problem.
“I think something is wrong with my system.” You admitted, the statement enough to make him lean forward in interest, mouth downturned in concern.
He hummed for you to continue, now listening intently. “My sensors are too . . sensitive?” You trailed, not sure how to word it without sounding stupid, “I must’ve messed something up, ever since then, everything feels . . too intense.”
You could practically feel the deadpan way he stared at you, “And how did you do that?” He asked innocuously, his cup clinking against the table as he stood up, walking over to you and placing his hands on your shoulders.
The small touch made you shiver, freezing under his grip for a second before you could move again, craning your neck to look up at him. It took you a second for you to respond, head turned away in shame.
“I was . . I was trying to pleasure myself,” you admitted. If it wasn’t for the seriousness of the situation, you wouldn’t have humiliated yourself like this. But for the sake of fixing whatever was wrong with you, you need to be honest.
He tore his hand away from you, the reaction enough for him to understand the severity of the situation. “Follow me,” he commanded, voice serious as he led you to his door, holding the door open for you as you entered.
It was tidy, cleaner than your room would ever be. You stood awkwardly in the empty space, waiting for him to shut the door behind you as he stepped in. “You can sit,” he muttered.
The cushion registered as soft under your palms, the bed dipping under the weight of your bodies as you leaned back, head hovering just an inch above the wall. Clockwork crawled towards you, inching towards you on his knees, almost like a predator.
You felt your fans whir to life, the sound bouncing through the entire room. “Nervous?” He rumbled, his voice making you jolt a little.
You nodded, looking away as his fingers ghosted over your leg, the gentle touch sending shocks through your sensors. Even the fabric of the blanket was starting to get overwhelming, knees bending to make as little contact with it as possible.
The movement didn’t go unnoticed by him, storing the information away for later as he positioned himself between your legs, face in front of yours eyes staring at your torso.
“Your circuits,” it took you a second to process what he meant, “Let me see them.”
Your eyes widened a little, embarrassment making you tremble as you lifted your shirt to your neck, hands pressing firmly on the panel covering your wiring, groaning as they were exposed to the cold air of the room.
They were embarrassingly tangled, fucked up from your previous attempts at fixing them. You could hear him sigh at the sight of them.
“Seriously, what the hell did you do?” He laughed in disbelief, “Was this all from you trying to get off?”
The mention of it made you flustered, wanting to deny him but not being able to — he was right after all.
Curiously, his hands reached forward, pinching a stray wire between his fingers, making pleasure shoot through your body, your back arching forward as your head hit the wall behind you.
“Shit, you weren’t kidding,” he chuckled to himself, “you really did fuck up your sensors.”
You grit your teeth, still reeling from the impact, “Yeah, no shit.”
Your snarky remark didn’t stop him from continuing, both hands now outstretched into the cavern of your chest, fiddling with the mess. You felt so exposed, the deepest and most vulnerable parts of you on display, if it wasn’t for the pleasure rocking your senses, you would’ve been a bit more bashful.
But as is, you were already struggling to keep yourself composed as Clockwork felt out the wires, trying to get a feel for how things should be. You were a different make than him, so other than the basics, he was practically clueless.
To call it tangled was putting it lightly. Cords were plugged into the wrong sockets, wires intertwined with each other — the sight was almost intimidating, his eyes twitching in annoyance. Honestly, it was a wonder you were still working.
It wasn’t hard to figure you out though, his mind mapping out each nook and cranny, making sense of the shit-storm inside of you. His fingers brushed over every wire, tugging a little at the bases to see just how much freedom he had.
Pleasure shot up your spine at each pull, your legs spasming as you twitched, jaw clenched to hold back the embarrassing noises that threatened to spill out. You almost debated pushing him off and going home, content to accept your life as a broken robot. Between your dignity and health, you weren’t sure which you considered more important.
But even if you tried, Clockwork wasn’t the type to just let you run away, not when your malfunction could become a danger to others, not when you were already under him, trapped between his body and the wall — not when each reaction he pulled from you brought him a sick satisfaction, his eyes focused as he hid his amusement.
In all honesty, now that he knew the root of the problem, it wouldn’t be hard to fix. He could probably fix it in five minutes, but as he dragged his finger along one of your innermost cords, watching as your eyes widened and your hand slapped over your mouth in a futile attempt to muffle your sounds, he found himself enamored with the thought of . . experimenting.
You could feel the way he leaned into your, face inched closer to yours as his hands felt around. This time, his touches weren’t learning, but rather teasing, his glasses slid down his face in concentration, the rare sight of his eyes making you shiver.
Although you didn’t get a chance to fully admire the view, not as he pressed his legs against yours, slotting himself neatly between them as his fingers tugged gently at a tangled cord close to your core, the feeling of it coming loose making you seize up in pleasure before falling limp.
He was quick to reconnect it to its proper plug, a buzz lingering underneath your skin as your fans ran so loud you almost couldn’t hear the way you murmured mindlessly.
It was almost fun. The control he had over you, the knowledge that you chose to go to him for this almost got to his head — plus, there were very few robots he knew, it was rare for him to mess with his own wiring, let alone someone else’s. It made it seem almost intimate, like something special shared between confidants rather than just friends.
You could feel each twitch of his fingers, each touch sending shocks through your system. Your hands shot forward as his knuckle grazed the wire deepest inside of you, the one closest to your back.
Your nails dug into his wrist, eyes blown wide and chest heaving, your body quivering as you held onto him like a lifeline, your shirt falling back down, the only thing holding it up was the hand still in your stomach.
There was something vulnerable in your gaze, a silent plea for mercy, for him to give you a moment of rest. Being your friend, he couldn’t help the pity he felt for you, after all, you must’ve been so sensitive, if his actions had this much of an effect on you, then it must’ve been worse than he thought.
His shoulders fell as he pulled his hands back, even the way he bumped along your exposed wires as he exited made you lurch forward, thankful for the small break that he gave you.
But he wasn’t done, no. He was a good friend, and he wasn’t going to leave you like this, not when it affected you so much. Rather, he took this as a chance to show how serious he was, fingers pinching at each other as he took off his usual bulky gloves, revealing his metallic hands.
“They were getting in the way,” he explained, setting them to the side before resuming his earlier position. “I want to help you, okay?”
“You just have to trust me.” Clockwork waited for you to respond, but still reeling from before, you didn’t have anything to say, instead, you took this as a chance to take your shirt off and throw it to the side, nodding as you set your hands back down, gripping onto the mattress underneath you, exposing yourself to him once again.
“Just,” you paused, not sure what to say, “Be gentle, okay?”
He felt his own cooling system kick on, the way you shyly looked away from him, chest subconsciously pushed out, completely on display — it took everything to bring his attention back to the mess inside of you, swallowing hard as he saved the memory for later, making plans to look back on it that night.
Without the gloves, his fingers were cold on your overheated circuits, able to get into the tighter spaces and start unwinding some of your tangled wires. You didn’t notice the way you leaned into his touch, seeking more of the coolness.
You tried to not moan, to not let any shameful sounds slip out, but the teeth biting into your lip could only do so much to quiet you, especially when the feeling of his hands on you felt like fire.
You had no other option but to put your trust in him, to endure the pleasure wrecking your body as you did your best to stay still.
Each time he unplugged a cord, stars sparked in your vision, your head banging lightly on the wall behind you, the pain barely registering. You couldn’t help the way your mouth fell open, a long, unabashed groan rumbling from your throat as you came down from the high.
He paused for a second, as if waiting for you to come to your senses before continuing. If you looked down, you would’ve noticed the way he trembled, eyes blown wide and jaw clenched as he held himself back.
It continued like that for a while, his nimble fingers tugging and pulling at your insides, remaking and reorganizing you until it started to look like less of a mess. Most of it blended together, your mind overwhelmed and blanked out while he worked his magic.
Your fans kicked into overdrive, straining to keep up with your rising temperature, whirring loud enough to make your head spin. It didn’t feel like he was helping you. If anything, you felt like you were about to short-circuit, your systems being pushed to their limits as you tried to prevent yourself from falling apart under his touch.
His eyes flickered between your face and the wiring, not wanting to mess up but not wanting to mess out on your downright erotic reactions. His thighs rubbed together and he bit down on his bottom lip.
He could practically feel how good you felt, the vibrations of your moans making him ache with desire, secretly filming and storing the memory deep in his mind.
He’s only ever played with his own circuits, and even then it was only out of boredom, the pleasure lackluster and not nearly as mind-blowing as you made it out to be.
It made him want to experience it too.
Clockwork held back the almost selfish desire, instead pouring all his focus into untangling and fixing the last of your cords.
He would never admit to the way he purposefully tugged a little too hard at your outlets, or how he pinched the wires in a way that was hardly necessary — but that wouldn’t erase the fact that he did, recording your reactions like an experiment.
There was just one stray wire left, it had been pushed to the back, but it crossed over a good chunk of your other wires, the outlet located near the front.
You were already struggling to get a hold of yourself, and the feeling of his metallic fingers, now warm from having spent so long inside of you, caressing your insides and pulling the cord to the front made you arch your back, pushing into him as your shoulders hit the wall, your vision sparking into white.
He couldn’t deny the arousal he felt at your reaction, the sight of you falling apart under his doing making his body heat up, tugging just once more before connecting the cord back to the outlet, pulling his hands back as watching as your system adjusted itself, your eyes going blank as you came down from your high.
You could feel yourself slowly return to normal, your nerves steadying and the feeling of the bed rubbing against you becoming more manageable. Even then, it was hard to notice the difference, not when the lingering feeling of Clockwork’s fingers in you made it hard to think.
“Better?” He asked, his hands caressing your trembling thighs, the warm metal feeling like fire against your leg.
You could only nod, mind still reeling from the experience. “Is it . . Was it supposed to feel like that?”
Clockwork laughed at your cluelessness, “Well I’m not sure what you were feeling, but yea, something like that,” he finished while waving his hands in the air.
His words piqued your curiosity, the way he dodged the question hinted that he had more to say. “What? Do you not?”
He seemed shocked that you cared, “Ehh, not really,” he paused, as if thinking over just how much he could reveal about himself, “I’m just not as sensitive as you are.”
The way he leaned back on his palms, head turned to the side with his lips pursed in something that read almost like envy made you giggle, a sudden urge to tease him arising in you.
“Really?” You asked, voice lowered as you pushed yourself forward, filling the space between you, “I bet I could help you with that.”
In all honesty, you wanted to repay him, to return the favor, to not let this be some one-sided fling. You wanted more of him, for him to let down his guard for once and let you see what he was like, completely exposed and bare.
“Yea right,” he scoffed at you playfully, an awkward smile breaking on his face as he pressed into his arms, “You could barely even pleasure yourself.”
The mention of your own failure filled you with embarrassment, eyes shutting as you took a moment to swallow your humiliation, “Yea but — you could always guide me.”
He seemed intrigued by your offer, a smirk crossing his face as he sighed, “Sure, why not?” He gave in, his hands quick to grab at the hem of his shirt, “But I’ll warn you, my system is pretty old,” the piece of fabric was thrown to the floor, “so if you mess me up, you’re paying for the repairs.”
You gulped hard at the sight of him without his shirt. Looking past the defined muscles, you could just barely notice the lining of his chestplate, almost like yours, except bigger, taking up almost his entire torso.
With a click of a button, the metal sheet came off and was set carefully to the side, his wiring now out on display.
It was neat, way less of a mess than yours was — streamlined almost, minimal and efficient. Rather than crammed with cords and wires, most of them were located near the top, and there was enough empty space where you could see yourself storing something in there.
Curiously, you stuck your hand forward, gently caressing the wire closest to you. He flinched, his head almost hitting you in the process.
“I thought you said you weren’t sensitive,” you teased, the shocked expression on his face amusing.
You wanted to see more of it, you thought as your hands gently pressed him down until his back hit the bed, your legs wrapped around one of his thighs as you towered over him.
It was less intimidating from this position, easier to lean forward and grasp your fingers around the same cord, gently rubbing at it. This time, his reaction was less obvious, a small jolt underneath you and nothing more, his poker face shaking just slightly.
Wanting more of a reaction, you pinched the wire between your fingers, gentle but firm. That got a reaction out of him, his voice choking up as his body shook, the back of his hand moving to cover his lips.
“Was that good?” You asked, waiting for his direction. When it was obvious you weren’t going to continue unless he answered, he nodded reluctantly, gaze meeting yours in a silent plea for you to continue, his eyes just barely visible through the opaque glass.
With his confirmation, you continued, your hands sneaking to the back as you remember that those cords tended to be more sensitive. Thankfully, you were right, and the way his fans whirred to life was encouragement to continue, digging a little deeper and tugging on a few of them.
He whimpered at the action, his legs kicking out and squirming underneath you, the mattress creaking with his movements. You took this chance to really observe his reactions, the way he reacted when different colored cords were pulled, the way his groans of pain turned to moans of pleasure — you took in as much information as you could, using it to chase more and more of his sounds.
You wanted to see him ruined, to see him as wrecked as you were. You learned that the red wire were the most sensitive, so picking them out and twirled them between your fingers, watching as he twisted with the movement before pulling on them, not harder enough to unplug them, but hard enough to make him yelp, your name on the tip of his tongue as his hand jerked to wrapped around your wrist.
He was heating up now, his cooling system on high gear as he shook underneath you. But you heard the pleasure that lined his voice, his hand not stopping you from pulling again, making him lurch forward with another moan.
A victorious grin spread across your face, you had found his weak spot. Once he relaxed, you tugged on the wire again, each time a little harder than the last. His moans rose in return, one of his hands slapped over his mouth and the other gripping onto the mattress.
“Does that feel good?” You asked again, not exactly needing an answer but wanting to hear him speak. A nod wasn’t enough, you wanted to hear him admit it. “Youse your words,” you teased, your fingers rubbing the cord tenderly, sliding up to the base to make sure you weren’t unplugging anything.
“Y-yea,” his voice box stuttered, “k-keep going.” He cracked, muffled and barely audible. Still, you slide your other hand into the cavern, holding your weight with your legs as both of your hands grasped at his wires.
His fans were so loud you could barely hear his whimpers above the sound of hot air blowing out of him, trying to keep up with his rising temperature.
He cursed as you tugged, “H-harder,” he begged, just loud enough for you to register.
“What was that?” You were surprised at the request, almost unlike him.
He groaned in embarrassment, his face digging into the bed, “Ngh- no-nothing . .”
Not caring for his bashfulness, you followed his earlier command, yanking on the wires as hard as you safely could, the force pulling him off of the bed slightly, his hands latching around yours as he held you there, his cords pulled taunt while he writhed underneath you, his fans shutting down, having given up on their job.
You slowly loosened your grip, the bed catching Clockwork as he fell, body still spasming from earlier. You used this time to check up on his circuits, making sure that you hadn’t accidentally pulled something out of place.
Thankfully, everything looks good, save for a little bit of wear on a few of the wires, but they were far enough where you were sure they wouldn’t pose any real danger.
You wanted to wait for Clockwork to come back to his senses, but from what you could tell, it was going to take a while, their cooling system powered off leaving them to cool off naturally.
The least you could do was return his chestplate, sealing it back in place and removing him from the bed, making him sit up against the side instead.
Plopping down next to him, you pulled your shirt back over your body, leaning your head back against the warm mattress and closing your eyes, looking back on the recordings of earlier.
You would have to show it to him, to prove to him that he was more sensitive than he thought. Your eyes cracked open, looking at the still overheated man next to you.
Well, until then, it wouldn’t hurt to look over the videos on your own, would it? You know, for research . .
A/N : HOLY WRITING BLOCK THIS TOOK ME 4 WHOLE DAYS OMFG T-T this was for an art trade !! daddy (me) does NOT know how to write witeplay LOLOL thank u for 600 followers !! song is maximum RAM LMAOO
