Hi! I'm a new Transformers x Reader blog and I'm excited to start!
What I will write for:
Transformers Prime
Transformers Animated
Rescue Bots
Transformers Earthspark
Transformers One
Transformers Beast Wars
Transformers G1
And Swerve
I take SFW and NSFW requests for human or Cybertronian reader inserts! However, since I do write 18+ stuff, I require any followers to be 18+! Any indication of adulthood will do, otherwise I'll block for my own safety!
Different anon then the one who sent in the quote with chase but GRAAAA IM GETTING CUTENESS AGGRESSION FOR HIM!!
Just imagining Chase getting all giddy randomly when he thinks of when reader complimenting his organisation skills is so fucking adorable!! He’s just a little nerd who likes organising!
Reader using flirts and endearing nicknames to get their bot all hot and bothered, but with Chase it’s just them complimenting his organisation skills and how handsome he looks when reciting police codes. That’s bedroom talk for them
They call him a powerful authority figure that still has approachability for those in need to come to him without fear and he can't sleep for days because he's too busy dreaming about kissing them as he combines their schedules into something coherent and time efficient
I just read the ask about what it would take to make Chase blush and the first thing I thought of afterwards was this quote!
Y/n: Sir would it be forward to say your voice is of the sirens, your breath is of the lilacs and your skin is of the soft downy wool of a newborn lamb?
Chase: Yes it would!
Y/N: What if I told you you have great organisation skills?
Chase, blushing: Oh you're just saying that
LMAOOOO
But it's so true! Compliment his ability to organize and Chase will be fantasizing about your for the next week, siren rumbling as he repeats to himself "they like my ability to organize" all pleased like
Everyone else is like "okay buddy" but don't stop him because he hasn't been this lax in months (he's too busy thinking of new ways to organize things for you to notice next to realize they're gambling and teaching Cody Cybertronian blackjack)
Never Listen to Rattrap on Affairs of the Sparks(Or Ever)
Summary: Cheetor just needs to prove himself that he is the better option.
Content Warning: Very minor violence against Waspinator, extremely bad advice
THIS BLOG IS 18+, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT
The perimeter guns were primed and ready, charge building and just waiting to be released upon the insect that had made the poor decision to infiltrate Maximal territory. And yet the wasp was not in fact shot, Optimus was hesitating given the nature of this impromptu visit.
“I think we should shoot ‘em.” Rattrap supplied as he wriggled his way under Rhinox’s arm to get a better look at the pinging sensors.
“Hm, I agree with the vermin. We need to send a message that this will not be tolerated.” Dinobot rumbled.
“Yeah! We need to nip this in the skid plate before it becomes a common occurrence!” Cheetor nodded eagerly, bouncing in place as he stared between the blinking Predacon signal and the hallway that led to the habsuits.
Optimus pinched at his olfactory ridge, a deep sigh rattling his chest armor. “Rhinox?” The leader prodded softly, curious what his engineer had to say on this interesting development. The rhino hummed, his brow ridge crinkling in thought as he drummed his digits against the console.
“Well I think we should first inform the on–””NO!” Cheetor interrupted Rhinox, his voice shrill.
“No?” Several optics turned to look at the cheetah, some curious, some knowing. Cheetor felt his face plate flush with energon, turning it a deep shade of blue. His optics flare in embarrassment as he resists the urge to shrink in on himself.
“Y-YEah,” He squeaks out, “They shouldn’t be bothered about this! It’s weird! I wouldn’t want to know about some dumb Pred lurking outside asking about me!”
“What’s asking about me?” Cheetor jumped, plating puffing out as he whirls around. His spark spins rapidly in his chest, it makes the energon in his lines pump faster as he looks at the latest edition to the Maximals. You blink in confusion as five sets of optics stare at you, the command going uncomfortably quiet. Cheetor looks at you, mouth agape and engine stalling as he tries to think of any reason for you to not be here right now.
“Flesssh-bot!” Helms snap awkwardly towards the console, the sound of Waspinator not breaking the tension but deepening it.
“Huh?” Your brows furrow.
“It’s nothing!” Cheetor declares, pushing on Rattrap’s face before the smaller Maximal could say something that would have you believing this was in fact something.
“I would not say this is nothing.” Dinobot grumbles, his optics turning to slits. “It appears the enemy desires to speak with you.”
“I would say he wants to do more than speak with da fleshy!” Rattrap says through the sevro pushing into his. A red hue creeps up your neck and Cheetor would think it would be very pretty if the reason was literally anything but Rattrap making ill concealed innuendos.
“Flesssh-bot!” Waspinator calls out again, his scratchy voice a pitiful plea for attention that Cheetor hopes you will ignore but to his horror you approach the console with a tentative look towards Boss-bot.
“It’s your choice.” Optimus is giving you permission and this is terrible because you are actually answering him. Cheetor watches in slow motion as you flick the switch, the sound system coming to life as you speak gently to the wailing Pred outside.
“Hello Waspinator, is everything alright? Why are you here?” You ask, sounding concerned.
“Evvverything isss alright now! Wasssspinator isss here for you!” The Pred swooned.
“For me?” Was that a look of endearment Cheetor was seeing? Was it?!
“Yesss, Wassspinator comess bearing a gift for Flesssh-bot.” Oh dear Primus, a gift? He comes bearing a gift? Why?!
“Oh?” You glance around command, that blush deepens and Cheetor is scratching at the proverbial walls.
“Hmh, could you come out? Wassspinator wanted to sssee Flesssh-bot when Flesss-bot is given gift.” Waspinator pauses, “Pleassse?” That was a low blow, the insect was clearly taking advantage of your kinder nature!
You look to Optimus, shifting almost bashfully. Were you considering this? “He said please.” You were!
“Oh sure, hear dat Boss Monkey. He said please, might as well invite him in for hot energon and oil cakes while we’re at it.” Rattrap snips and it makes you shrink and Optimus casts a scathing look towards the rat before turning back to you.
“Despite the way he said it, I am inclined to agree with Rattrap. I fear you going out there might be unwise.” You give a mumbled agreement and Cheetor feels his spark lightening until Rhinox steps forward.
“I could go with them.” Rhinox speaks up, placing a servo on your shoulder. Cheetor splutters and makes vague gestures of disagreement.
“This could be a trap.” Dinobot supplies, eyeing you with a hard stare of disapproval.
“And if it is, I will be there with them. But if it isn’t we might be able to get something out of Waspinator.” Rhinox rolled his optics down towards you, “And well he did say please.”
The whimper that passed Cheetor’s lip plates was small and utterly depressing in nature. Slumping into a chair he rested his chin heavily against the cool metal, his optics watching your back in forlorn silence as you went to meet the stinkin Pred with that still pretty red hue dusting your cheeks. A part of him, a part he didn’t really like that much, hoped just the smallest bit that this was some dumb trick. He really didn’t want it to be a trap but if it was, well then that would be… not good but he could help you through it!
“Oh lighten up pussycat. It ain’t the end of the world. It’s probably just some dumb plan ol’ lizard brain hatched up. Nothin’ ta worry ‘bout.” Rattrap was hardly what Cheetor would call reassuring but it was nice to have his fears dissuaded by someone other than himself.
The lift creaked and it made Cheetor perk up. “You will need to let me run a full diagnostics on them.” The sound of Rhinox made him immediately perk down, that didn’t sound like someone who just dealt with an ill-conceived attempt at an attack. As you came into view, a bundle of colorful organic material clutched in your hands Cheetor felt like disappearing into the floor.
“Oh.” Rattrap whistled, “Oh maybe ya do have something to worry about.”
Cheetor didn’t believe Rattrap at first, brushing it off that this was a one time thing. Waspinator wouldn’t come back, Optimus wouldn’t allow it, and you most certainly wouldn’t be swayed by a half-afted attempt at some ploy of the preds to win the beast wars. And yet, for reasons that were beyond his comprehension, he feels even Primus wouldn’t understand, Waspinator did come back. Optimus did allow it and you were being swayed by this weird display of what Cheetor was still convinced was false affections.
“This has to be a trick, really it has to be. There is no way that this could be literally anything else.” Cheetor trailed after you as you added yet another bundle of flowers to your ever growing collection. The room you shared with Optimus started to look more like a garden than a room, the fragrance of the flowers clung heavily to you and it was actually really nice but it was tainted by who kept giving them to you.
“Is it really that unbelievable that Waspinator just wants to give me flowers?” You asked, shoulders hunching up in defense.
“I mean yeah? He’s a Pred! What reason does he have to be giving you flowers if not to try and trick you?” A frown pulled at your lips, your back to Cheetor as you arranged and rearranged all of your “gifts.”
“I see.” That frown turned not upside down but into a purse and now Cheetor was confused.
“What?” He asked, not understanding the sudden mood shift or why you weren’t looking at him.
You sighed, turning on him with a hand on your hip and rubbing at your temple, “Cheetor I think you should go.” He spluttered, derma flapping like that fish he saw out of the water.
“Wait, hold on!” He pleaded, “What did I say?” You shook your head as you ushered him out. “No, please come on. What did I say?” It came out whiny, his optics wide and pleading as you shut the door on him.
“But what did I say?” He whispered, utterly dejected.
Dragging his pedes across the floor he didn’t take much care in not running into everything and anything. Maybe if he bumped into another wall it would bring him clarity for whatever just happened?
“Hey watch where ya goin blondie!” Rattrap squeaked as Cheetor almost bowled him over. Cheetor let out a mumbled apology, shoulders slumping further and helm practically touching the floor. “Oh boy, what is this?” the rat gestured at him.
“It’s nothing.”
“I would not call this nothin’. What’s eatin’ at your wires, huh?”
“Nothingggg.”
“Really? Nothin’? Cause it looks to me,” Rattrap picked something off of Cheetor’s arm and flicked it to the ground. It was a flower petal, soft and pink, just like your face when you received them this morning, “like you are lettin’ some stickin’ Pred move in on your dame.”
Cheetor’s plating puffed up as he straightened, “I’m not letting–” He stopped immediately, shrinking. “You’re right…”
“I know.” It was said extremely smugly but Cheetor wasn’t paying attention, now suddenly feeling the need to pace.
“But what am I supposed to do!” He grabbed at the faux auditor receptors on his helm, “They’re so… so.. smitten with Waspinator and his flowers and his flessssh-bot.” He dragged out the s, mocking the bug’s speech. “And I can’t understand why? It’s Waspinator! No one likes him!”
“Alright, alright enough of that.” A servo was snagging his elbow and his faceplate was dragged down to Rattrap’s level. “Listen here Whiskers, ya listening? I’m going to share some very important advice with ya.” Cheetor’s optics shuttered, helm tilting to the side as he was in fact listening, maybe a bit too intently. “Okay good, now I've been aroun’ the block, seen plenty of mechs and femmes just like yours.” He hushed Cheetor with a digit to his derma, “I know, I know they’re unique and special, blah blah blah, I get it but what I mean is they’re the romantic type. They want to be wooed and currently the one doin’ the wooing ain’t you.”
“Are you trying to help me or making me feel worse?”
“Hush, I’m gettin’ there.” Rattrap snapped, “Now you can’t do the flowers, you’ll just look like a copycat so you need to do somethin’ else. Somethin’ like showin’ your dame how tough yous are.”
“What are you trying to say?”
Rattrap sighed and thunked his servos against the top Cheetor’s helm, “You’re impossible kid, but what I am tryin’ to say is beat up the Wasp.”
“What? But.. but wouldn’t that make them not happy with me?”
The other maximal waved his servo around like what Cheetor just said was absolutely ridiculous. “What? No, course not. It’s the law of the wild, show them you’re the superior mate and all that.”
“I don’t know about this…”
“Oh come on pussycat, I thought you wanted to win the… the.. What’s that thing the human has?” Rattrap snapped his digits together.
“Their heart?”
“Yeah that, I thought you wanted to win your fleshy’s heart. Cause you ain’t gonna do that pussy footin’ around.” Cheetor huffed, feeling himself starting to pout but Rattrap had a point.
“Okay.” He nodded, “Okay, yeah, yeah! I’ll show them that I’m way better than that pred!” Bouncing in place he felt electricity flaring to life and running through his lines, it heated his energon and he grinned down at his friend, “Thanks Rattrap!” bounding away Cheetor felt the need to go on a run, his processor racing with ideas on how he would initiate and beat Waspinator. He pictured how you would swoon over his battle prowess and how you would toss out all those flowers. Would you blush all sweet and pretty like you do with Waspinator? He thinks it would be even prettier and sweeter because he was the one that caused it.
Cheetor wonders how long he will have to wait to prove himself. It wouldn’t matter if it was on the battlefield, you didn’t leave base much so you wouldn’t get to see him in action. Racing through the jungle he decided that he would have to act when Waspinator inevitably showed up again. Whenever that would be.
Tomorrow, it would be tomorrow.
“Flesssh-bot, your Wassspinator hasss arrived!”
Perfect! Cheetor was even on monitor duty! Zipping to the lift, he poked his head into the hallway; spotting Dinobot he waved his servo and the raptor. “Dinobot! Dinobot! Could you go get–””I am already going to collect the human to deal with this pest.” Dinobot snarled.
Perfect!
Barling down the lift Cheetor didn’t wait for it to touchdown before jumping off, transforming, and then running full tilt at the predacon.
“Oh? Cat-bot? Where isss Fless–” Cheetor cut Waspintor off as he rammed into the insect. The pred screeched, an explosion of petals and stems raining down upon them as the flowers he had been holding were obliterated by the impact. Sinking his teeth into the metal of Waspinator’s shoulder armor he shook his jaw about, not fully tearing but enough to loosen the armor and make the bug feel it.
Was it a bit vindictive? Probably. But if he was going to show that he was the better option he had to take every opportunity.
“Ssstop it! Let go!” Waspinator wriggled and squirmed, servos forming fists before releasing and just pushing at Cheetor. “What did Wassspinator do?! Isss Flesssh-bot angry at Wassspinator?!” The pred’s vocalizer hiccupped and it made Cheetor pause but Rattrap’s advice rang loudly in his processor and he doubled down. Whipping his helm he sent Waspinator skittering along the ground before pouncing again. His landing was graceful if heavy and he could feel the plating on his prey’s chest caving inwards. It was strange that Waspinator wasn’t fighting back, mostly just whining and scrabbling at the earth to get away from him and crying about his ‘Flesssh-bot’ being mad at him.
It was frustrating and Cheetor snarled, gnashing his teeth in Waspinator’s face he grazed the canines across the antenna, threatening to tear.
“Cheetor, what are you doing!” Optimus bellowed behind him, the scruff of his neck was suddenly and aggressively grabbed as he was torn off the predacon. He hissed, wriggling in the gorilla’s hold.
“What were you thinking!?” Optimus got in his face, derma set in a harsh snarl. Cheetor didn’t respond, his glossa twisting into a knot along with his spark as you sprinted past, your face set in a state of panic. He reset his optics, once, twice, three times just to make sure he wasn’t going crazy at the sight of you cooing over Waspinator. Your small, soft organic hands gently brushing over the surface wounds he had inflicted upon Waspinator.
“Optimus,” You speak up, pointedly not looking at Cheetor, “We need to help him.”
Optimus paused in his fuming, optics flaring as he looked between you, Cheetor, and the bug. “I…I don’t–”“Please? He promised not to do anything when he comes here, we can’t just let him fly back to the Darksyde like this.” You're still petting along his plating, his buggy face nuzzling into your touch and Cheetor doesn’t know which feeling is bigger, devastation or fury.
A groan of frustration escaped past the boss-bots clenched denta, “Okay.” He nodded, activating his comm he asked Rhinox to prep the CR Chamber. Cheetor snarled in distaste and was met with a harsh glare from Primal.
Inside the Axalon all optics switched from staring at the human simpering over a pred to Optimus reaming Cheetor out. Not that the cheetah was listening, too focused on you and Waspinator. He made it worse, he made it so much worse.
This is entirely based on @rabotimagines heat fic but with decepticons, this can be read alone but highly recommend you read his stuff! I'd also like to thank my best friend @savvymantis for beta reading for me! and one last tag as requested @therobotsarestuckinmyhead :3
warnings : heat, dubcon, stomach bulge, several partners, foursome, double penetration one hole, squirting, biting, overstimulation, Cybertronian reader, reader is an elite.
MDNI
Characters : Megatron, Skywarp, Starscream, Thundercracker, Astrotrain, Blitzwing, and the constructicons.
word count : 8,714!
18+ only!
-
How pitiful, such a big, strong decepticon elite like yourself taken out by your outdated heat protocols being activated, such obsolete coding making you nothing but spike hungry shareware, and in the heat of battle no less! That poor autobot leader was trying so hard to tend to you, to protect you from your own when all you wanted so badly was to be fragged, you were even whimpering for him!
That’s why you’re under the table now to ‘make up for it’, as Megatron said. A meeting, it was needed to discuss future plans of attack and what to do about you. But how can anyone focus on what their leader is saying when all they can hear is you choking yourself on Megatron’s spike? Every word their leader says is nearly drowned out entirely by your need. Never had they heard you sound so downright sinful, muffled whines and messy slurping sounds all anyone in the room can focus on.
“Further more it seems our plan backfired in more ways than one.” Megatron drones on, seemingly not at all affected by your greedy sucking, “Who knew such obsolete code existed within our ranks?” He laughs, placing a servo to the back of your helm and not even needing to shove you further down his spike; you do it all yourself, moaning so sweetly around him as you take it to the base.
Your optics flutter, threatening to close as your frame trembles. Your leader loves how sensitive you are, how your lust filled processor melts just tasting his pre-fluid, from being used so openly.
“How pitiful you are, and making such a mess too.” The silver mech sighs, feigning annoyance as the puddle of transfluid grows under your squirming hips.
Your leader places a pede to your spike, gritting his denta to stop himself from moaning out as you cry out around him. Your hips lurch forward, humping his pede like a needy cyberhound. Optics squeezing shut, you’re overwhelmed, but it’s not enough! Your spike throbs, your charge crackling within your frame, spraying your transfluid across your stomach and leaking onto the floor. Megatron is quite pleased with your whorish expression, to see your dermas stretch around his thick spike, pretty optics shining so bright and glossy. He didn’t even need to guide you to taking him deep. His bright optics tear away from you, back to his worthless crew to continue speaking.
Yet none of them listening, dozens of optics keep dropping as if they could see under the table. All only able to hear the wet sloppy sounds of you sucking Megatron off like you needed it to live. The mechs unable to move knowing they’d earn their leader’s ire, but the more they hear the more they shake, wanting a piece of you, just a taste is all they ask.
The decepitcon leader knows this all too well.
His grin dangerous, his spike throbbing before he shoves your helm down keeping you there to swallow his transfluid. Your optics cross as your own overload strikes your frame yet again, making a bigger mess below you and across your stomach mesh. So sensitive and responsive thanks to your outdated coding, but oh how Megatron loves it.
Megatron smirks at your cumdrunk form, only to hiss through clenched denta as you keep sucking, wanting more, needing more.
“Such shareware you are.” Despite his words the servo on your helm pets you gently, making you pull off his depressurizing spike to nuzzle into his palm, “Seems this meeting will go nowhere, not with you being such a distraction.” Oh, but how could he be mad at you when you look up at him like that? Perfect spike warmer you are.
Megatron moves his seat back, grabbing you by the underarms and lightly tossing you on top of the table, giving every filthy mech there the long awaited sight of you. Your stomach is covered in your own transfluid, your face plate flushed a deep blue, with your optics bright and dazed.
Yet Megatron walks away with a scoff, “And someone clean the mess they left under the table, I have work to continue.” Leaving you to the wolves.
You whimper, laying back flat against the cold table searching for any form of relief but it came faster than you thought. The room is in chaos with mechs stumbling over themselves and each other, metal being thrown around as everyone lunges for you, only to be beaten by Skywarp using his outlier to reach you first. He takes you to the door the same way, with Thundercracker and Starscream right behind him guarding as the three rush you to the nearest room to shove you in.
The door locks and your world spins. Your back strut hits a desk, helm over the side, but all your muddled processor can focus on is someone spreading your pedes wide open, putting your dripping spike and leaking valve on display.
“Move aside!”
“Don’t be so rough with them-“
“Shut up and move!”
Three voices chime, all you’re able to hear is metal clashing as the trio shove their way into the places they want. Blue becomes clear to your optics, staring at an almost worried Thundercracker, but not worried enough to keep his modesty panel closed. The spike in front of your face was decently thick, a little on the short side, but so pretty-
Your intake drops with a short squeal when someone drops their hot and wet valve on your own needy spike. Before you can even process the snug clench, your valve is stretched open on another spike, curved and hitting your ceiling nodes with ease. Cruel laughter echoes, but you can barely hear it over the engeron rushing through your audials.
"Haha, look at them, such a pretty thing ready to ruin!" Skywarp cackles, wasting no time to dropping himself onto your spike, rolling his hips to grind his node in your pelvis before picking himself up and letting gravity do most of the work.
Your servos flail, desperate for something or someone to grab, something to ground your fading mind with. Your back strut arches with your loud cry, your hips furiously trying to fuck yourself against Skywarp and Starscream. Your overload gushes both within the purple seeker and over the pelvis of your dear sky commander in your transfluid.
Skywarp trembles feeling your cum pour into his valve, "Overloading already? The party just gettin' started!"
"Perhaps these outdated codes are a blessing; look at how ready they are." Starscream sighs, to keep his servos on your knees keeping them from closing. Though it's not lost on him that you're trying to wrap your legs around his waist to have him close.
"Valve so needy, perfect shareware for us." The sky commander purrs.
Warm and welcoming, perfect to use and fill. All of Starscream’s mounting frustrations with you are taken out of your greedy cunt. His hips snap to yours swiftly, harshly smacking against your aft. Every thrust sends your hips upward, unintentionally aiding Skywarp to his own release. The force makes your hips meet his every time he drops down on your spike, pushing the tip of your cock to his sensitive ceiling nodes. The sloppy wet sounds echo in the relatively small room, yet none of that matters, not when you’re making such slutty sounds.
"Don't you think you two are being a bit harsh on 'em? I mean, they are already mindless." Thundercracker tries to defend you, no matter how hot you look sticking your glossa out, trying to beckon him closer. Oh who is the blue seeker fooling; you have him wrapped around your digit. All those fleeting touches and brushes of your EM field had him a mess for you. Even now the blue seeker strokes the base of his spike in front of you, practically taunting you as he stays just out of reach, and only allows you to see the transfluid bubbling from his bulbous tip. The heady scent flooding your nasal passage, as if you weren’t drooling enough, he’s so mean when you need his spike most!
"Puh…please..!" You try to speak, watery optics blearily look to Thundercracker, yearning, needing him to fill your intake. It’s so empty, too empty, you need him, need his cum. Your processor gives out half way through trying to plead.
“Shuddup would ya?” The purple seeker grabs your cheeks squishing them between his digits, “Just frag ‘em already! Look, they are practically begging to get fragged and stuffed.” Skywarp used his outlier to ensure they had first dibs on you, he is not going to waste it arguing when no doubt the others would find them soon.
“Or don’t, let the fools beyond these walls hear how much they like being used.” Starscream purrs, lifting your pede over his shoulder. He kisses your calf so lovingly, just to sink his denta into the exposed mesh. His engine rumbles as a choked moan tears from his dermas feeling you clamp down around him.
“Mark me, mark me claim me- please please, need it—!!” Your back strut arches as a broken squeal tumbles from your drool covered dermas.
Skywarp’s valve flutters around your throbbing length as the con places his servos on your chassis, allowing him lean forward and fuck himself faster on your cock, using you like you were a dildo for him to use and get his pleasure from. Drool lands on your chassis as the mech above you bites his bottom derma, silencing the filthy sounds that wish to be freed in favor of hearing you.
The last of them finally can’t take it; Thundercracker moves in closely, attempting to take it easy unlike the other two who frag your frame like it’s their only chance they’ll do so. Taking a deep in-vent, he places his servos on the table under you, but you didn’t give him a chance as your own servos shoot forward. Your digits grip tightly to his thighs digging into his transformation seams to yank him forward. An embarrassing yelp of static falls from Thundercracker’s voice box as the wet heat of your mouth wrap around his spike with ease. Stretching you attempt to take him to the base in an attempt to choke yourself on him for a taste of his transfluid.
“Slaaag!” The blue seeker cries, voice crackling with static. His hips move as if they have a mind of their own, fucking your throat with reckless abandon. He’s horrible! He was trying to be better than the mechs to come, show you he can actually take care of you, maybe even prove to you his worth. But he can’t, you feel too good! Primus, you’re trying to suck him dry!
Thundercracker leans his helm down, red optics bright watching your throat bulge with every thrust of his hips. The sight leaves him whining, squeezing his optics shut tightly. He knows if he keeps watching he will overload too soon.
He’s sorry, sorry, so sorry, he can’t stop! If only you could hear what he wants to say, instead of hollowing your cheeks out to messily suck on his spike. Your optics roll back, muffled mewls barely able to vibrate in your pipe as you are held down and fragged like shareware. Never once are you left empty, filled or warmed by one of them and their vicious fucking. Your helm feels so heavy yet your frame crackles, EM field jumping everywhere in a wild need to feel someone, anyone.
Starscream slams his cock deep within you, his thrusts turning into quick, sloppy bucks of his hips. He barely pulling out of you, like he couldn’t stand to part with you. He finally gets to have you, finally gets to put your cocky self in your place, so why does he feel like it’s him that’s falling? Growling, the seeker sinks his sharp digits into your metal, threatening to puncture your armor. And yet you shriek around Thundercracker, your frame attempting to thrash as the pain and pleasure mix into an intoxicating brew within your fuel lines.
You aren’t sure if you can keep up! It’s so hot, too hot, your frame feels like it’s overheating! A warning flashes behind your optics. You can’t ex-vent out the hot air from your system, Thundercracker’s hips are moving too fast, slapping and blocking your vents from properly working.
Your helm feels like lead, the lack of cool air making your processor muddled. The three don’t stop, not until they have had their fill. With Starscream overloading first, his hips snapping against yours once, twice, before lingering, to make sure your valve takes his spent. He will taint you for anyone else, or so he hopes. The rush of hot translfuid in your empty cunt triggers your own release, your frame shaking, cumming inside Skywarp and around Starscream.
“Slag yes! Just like that-! Frag, ya know how to fill a mech up good.” Skywarp purrs, his own overload coating your torso in a pretty pink stain as well as your spike. He could get use to this, keep you locked away for their use only. Keep you as their pretty little mate those heat protocols tell you to be.
Thundercracker is the last to overload, pushing his hips one last time so the tip of his spike hits the back of your throat, coating your pipe in his cum, making sure you take every last drop. Swallowing around his cock, you whine, taking all he has. Pulling back, the blue seeker lifts your helm to see you better, hoping you were okay after such treatment. He swear under his breath as you open your intake wide and stick your glossa out, showing him you swallowed all he had given you like a good mech.
You really are trying to send him into the well early, aren’t you?
Yet can they really be done just yet, they still have so much cum to fuck into your needy holes. Surely you won’t mind if they unloaded it all into you; they are so backed up after all, and you’re just too good for them to pass up. The three don’t even glance at one another for they already know they are all thinking the same thing: to make you theirs, keep you for themselves to frag and love.
However the choice is made for them and against their will, when the door to the communications room is thrown wide open. A chair flying through the air, clocking Skywarp across the helm and flinging him off you. Thundercracker jumps back from you whilst Starscream sneers at the blasted triple changer barreling into the room and towering over him.
“Finally found you slaggin’ glitches!” The larger mech wastes no time speeding right to you, ready to put the egotistical flier in his place just so he could get a taste of you! Astrotrain hadn’t expected you to whine so loudly as he grabbed Starscream by the neck and pulled him away from you. Oh, how you are just so cute. Here you lay, an elite, his superior, and you look so fragged out mind, thighs twitching trying to close so you could move, seeking a spike to fill you again and again. Tossing the rather annoying seeker to the wall the triple changer grabs you instead, lifting you up and off the table and into his awaiting arms. Astrotrain moves swiftly, not at all risking losing you to anyone else, especially not those dense afts!
You just melt into him, nuzzling your helm into his neck cables your glossa licking across the thick cables, trying to find the perfect spot for your claiming bite. The cum stuffed inside you begins to leak down your inner thighs, reminding you of how achingly empty you are. Your hips buck forward trying to hump against the large triple changer. Even now you have no shame, just craving to be fragged and filled. Astrotrain grunts, feeling your denta sink into his neck. His Modesty panel retracts letting his all too big spike slip between your soaked thighs.
“Primus, look at you, all this over my spike? Ya really are something else.” Finding a suitable place can wait, right here in the hallway is fine; he can hardly wait any longer.
Your back strut meets the cold wall, burning hot frame trembling at the temperature difference, yet your optics stay right on the spike of the mech before you. Just looking at it makes you drool, the heat of it against your valve could make you overload. The triple changer laughs at your need. One servo grips under your aft, holding you up, using his large frame to keep you pinned between him and the wall. It allows his free servo to grip your face making you look at him.
“Astro…” You trail off with a whimper. Shaking your hips, you try to entice him, to make him mold your valve to the shape of him. Wet slit dragging across the length of his shaft, you try desperately to fuck yourself on him, to overload again and again until you black out.
“Frag, you’re so pathetic like this…” The large mech purrs, his wings fluttering behind him as he drools at the sight of you, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to plow you into the dirt, and I finally have you under me, beggin’ for me.” Astrotrain’s vent come out in sharp quick puffs, steam trailing above him as his frame tries to expel the heat to prevent his systems from overheating.
After all this time, he finally gets to make that valve his.
“Hm, I wonder how many marks I can leave across this slutty frame of yours.” The triple changer chuckles when you moan out at just the thought, “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? To be marked,” the triple changer only pauses in his words to lick the drool sliding down your chin, “as all mine.” You squeeze you optics shut, frame trembling as you begin to squirm. “For the world to know just who makes you weak.
”All for him, only for him, yeah? Screw everyone else he finally has you!
“You can’t even wait, look at those hips.” Astrotrain laughs at your neediness. The servo under your aft moves. Your pedes hitting the ground with a heavy thud, almost limp. You toss your helm back with a loud cry, hips thrusting forward as the triple changer shoves two digits into your sloppy valve. The wet squelch echoes in the hallway, ringing in your audials.
“So loud and I ain’t hardly done a thing. Those seekers can’t treat you like I can; this valve needs a real mech, yeah?” Digits assault your ceiling nodes with every pump of his wrist, the palm of his servo slapping your anterior node, grinding against the bright bud whilst he finger fucks the transfluid out of you to make room for his.
You can’t vent. Your frame warns of an possible shut down from being wound up so tightly. You’re unable to believe this is actually happening to you, you are finally getting a fat spike to scratch the itch of your heat protocol! Finally, something to fill you beyond measure. Your spike twitches against Astrotrain’s stomach mesh and your valve clenches on his digits, excited by the mere thought of having him empty his cum inside you!
“Please, please, pleaaase it’s - not enough—!!” Your words are rushed out as you try to beg, “Frag me- need you fragging me- mm! gah..! M’yours yours yours please-!” Begging with a roll of your hips, you need his spike now! Your digits sink into his shoulders, scratching at his paint, trying to quell the instinctive urge to lay a claim on him.
Primus save him, you just know how to push his buttons! His systems are overheating but he can’t find it in him to care. Slamming his dermas to yours in a harsh clink of your denta, his glossa pushes into your awaiting intake with no resistance. Sharp fangs dig into your bottom lip, nipping the soft metal, letting energon pool to the surface. Gasping at the sensation, you are given a brief second of cold air before your intake is stuffed with the triple changer’s glossa. Your optics roll back before closing shut, mewling into the impassioned kiss.
Strong digits squeeze the cables along your neck, keeping you upright lifting you up, just enough for the Triple changer to place himself between your pedes. Pressing closer to your heated frame. Coolant sticking to your frame, your audials ring with the deep grunts and groans that make your wires sing! Every squirm and wriggle of your hips makes it hard to keep a grip on you, despite your heat, your strength as an elite is barely diminished. If he wants you under him, he’s going to have to break you in before you get any ideas.
A whimper falls from your kissed bruised dermas. A thin strand of spit connects your glossas together, breaking when he moves too far away. You truly are a sight to behold: optics down-turned and pleading, frame shining with coolant, and the pre-fluid from your spike soaking not only his stomach mesh but yourself. Dazed, you try to drag him back, wanting more of his tongue down your throat.
The triple changer pulls his dripping digits from your sopping wet heat. Mockingly, he coos at the pitiful whine you let out.
“Wait…no, no don’t stop—!!” The words die on your glossa as pain shoots through your wires. You shriek with a wet smack accompanying your cry. Your valve is empty but your node pulsing from the swift smack Astrotrain gives your pussy.
Your back strut arches as you cling to the large mech, completely blind to your pre-fluid splattering across his lap. Astrotrain chuckles, taking your tender node in between his digits and pinching the sensitive bud, cooing as you squeal. Your hips jerking as the overload fries your processors. However, your squeal is cut short by digits covered in transfluid covered shoving into your open intake.
“Shut up and lick ‘em clean.” As hot as your filthy sounds were, he doesn’t need you attracting nobody else.
With glazed over, glossy optics, you do as told. Dermas wrapping around his drenched digits, you suck on them like it’s the spike now pressing to your valve mesh. Glossa dragging between his digits to get a taste of yourself and the transfluid Starscream left in you. Your frame trembles, hips twitching almost like you could overload from that alone. Grabbing one of your pedes just behind your knee, Astrotrain lifts your leg up and kicking your other to spread wider, in an attempt to fit between your pedes.
With your greedy hole on display for him, Astrotrain wastes no time pushing the bulbous head of his spike into it, biting down on his bottom lip at how you clench down on him already! You just have to make things difficult.
“D-Don’t clench like that… frag!” The triple changer breathes out, voice shaking at just how tight you are around him. He’s not even sure he can make it if you don’t relax! Astrotrain bucks up, pushing more and more of his spike into your tight wet heat. Even after being fucked you still have such a grip on him.
You bite down on the digits inside your intake, optics fluttering back as you struggle to not cry out. Slag, he’s so thick, and he isn’t even all the way inside you yet! Glossy optics bore into those deep vermilion ones, silently pleading with him to just fuck you already, and by Primus he is trying!
Squeezing your leg to get a better grip, Astrotrain pulls his hips back and swings them froward, impaling you further down his cock. Your back strut arches, quaking under his vicious push and pull. Astrotrain shoves more and more into you like he’s nothing more than a rut stricken beast mounting you.
Scrambling, you try to mumble something. It’s too hot, you’re losing your processor to his spike! A shock is sent down your spinal strut, hips shaking with vigor. Astrotrain swears under his breath, pulling his digits from your intake to place it on your other pede. He lifts you up off the ground and presses himself to the base, fucking himself in your creaming hole.
“S’in my tank!!” You wail, the tip of his spike kissing your forge tank with every thrust. Your helm spin, “S…sooo deep..!” Oral lubricant flows from your agape intake, your words slurred from the intensity every overload brings you.
The triple changer shoves his helm into your neck, glossa dragging across your cables as he frags you through your climax. You are nothing more than a weeping mess in his hold, drunken smile on your dermas as you finally get what you’ve wanted.
“Greedy glitch!” Astrotrain growls, as you keep fogging his processor. His pedes feel like they are going to give out. You feel so good around him, trying to drain him of his transfluid, but he wants to last here, damn it! His denta sink into your neck cables in an attempt to muffle his own sounds. You’re ruining him and you don’t even know it.
His spike curves, dragging across your ceiling nodes every time he pulls back. He’s so close to you that your own spike rubs against his stomach. It’s too much, too hot, too overwhelming as the pain bites at your wires, only to bleed into a burning high, pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever felt! Astrotrain really should keep you quiet, but you just sound so damn good, all loud and crying just for him.
His own greed is his downfall. You two didn’t even hear the pedesteps until they were so close they made Astrotrain stop. He buries himself deep within you to cover you, cling to you to glaring over his shoulder at whoever it was, but his thrusts slowed to a stop to glare at that smug grin of the other triple changer.
Before Blitzwing can even get a word out, you’re whining loudly, trying to wiggle your hips to get more of Astrotrain.
“Noo, don’t stop…need it…*frag.* Was so close! Please…” You plead, vents glowing orange from the heat building withing your systems.
You make it so hard to handle business. Astrotrain growls, trying to ignore your pretty begging and how you wrap your pedes around him trying to get him closer.
“You sack of scrap, ya can’t just take ‘em and run off without me!” Blitzwing shoves his way forward, trying to snatch you from his fellow triple changer, but Astrotrain isn’t having it as he curls around you as much as he physically can.
“You can head right on to the scrap heap! I ain’t gotta do a damn thing, now buzz off!” The mech over you snarls, dual engine rumbling with rage. Here is he trying to have a good time with his superior, and now this dense aft wants to ruin all the hard work that went into getting you under him!
Blitzwing’s smug grin twists into a scowl, getting more fed up by the second that his old pal doesn’t want to share you when clearly there is enough of you to go around. Especially with those sweet sounds you’re making, he knows you’d gladly take everyone on the Nemesis and still have so much more to give. If only Astrotrain would just accept that. As much as Blitzwing wants you for himself as well, he can’t ignore the fact that Megatron would have a first claim over you, and only give the others a taste of you after he’s had his fill.
Blitzwing grabs Astrotrain’s shoulder, tugging him back in an attempt to pry him off you. But the shuttle mech struggles to not budge; he can’t allow even a breath of cold air between you two for he knows the tank jet behind him will use that to steal you from him. You can’t take it, all you can feel is Astrotrain’s hot and heavy spike resting within you, barely moving just enough to tease you when you had been so close!
“Shut up, shut up, shut. Up!” You shout, pedes flailing and clocking Blitzwing in the chassis with your surprisingly quick movements, knocking his systems off for a brief second. “Frag me and don’t slagging stop until someone offlines!” You pant. It doesn’t matter what anyone has to say, if they aren’t breaking your valve into the sparkdamned well you don’t care.
Astrotrain groans, scoffing under his breath. If the large mech had the time to sulk he could, not that Blitzwing would allow him to have time, giving the fellow triple changer and rough pat on the back strut.
“You heard ‘em! We can’t deny such a request now, can we?” He laughs, swiftly moving beside you, slipping an arm behind your back strut. Astrotrain finally moves you away from the wall giving Blitzwing the space to slip in behind you, your spinal strut pressed against his chassis.
Astrotrain gives Blitzwing hold over your pedes, letting the other mech keep your legs wide open whilst he grabs ahold of your hips to angle you back. In your haze, you didn’t realize they wouldn’t be using your intake. The realization hits you as you hear Blitzwing’s modesty panel retract, allowing his lengthy and heavy spike to rub against your aft and leaving a hot smear of pre-fluid across your metal.
“Move their hips back, I can’t frag ‘em if ya keep hogging them for yourself.”
Oh lord, they are just going to keep arguing.
With an annoyed huff, Astrotrain moves your hips back, pulling himself back a little to try and give your second lover some space to actually move. Blitzwing moves his spike forward, finding your weeping slit, though an annoyed Astrotrain won't move from his spot. He presses up but slips, your valve not giving. He tries again with a muttered swear, until his voice box crackles as soon as his tip catches in your hole.
“Fraaag! Such a perfect valve. So tiiight-!” Blitzwing puffs out air through his vents, his warm breath fanning across your neck, “Relax, boss.”
"I am!" Your grip on Astrotrain’s shoulders tightens as you try to keep yourself grounded in anyway you can, despite it being far too late.
Your pulsing valve gives you away.
Your optics roll back, feeling the tip of Blitzwing's spike catching your fuck hole. Tears well up in your optics once more as you try to take both mechs; you don’t think your valve can handle it. You feel like you’re being split in half, but it feels so good! You cry out as the brute behind you bullies his spike into your already stuffed hole.
Your metal distending, denting outward from how full they made you. The spread and stretch of your valve is tight, the feeling them both spear you open like this, as wide as you could possibly go. Astrotrain, despite how desperate you two are, tries to remain steady, wanting to prove himself better than the bastard behind you. He knows they are pushing you to your limit, and it’s a thought that makes his engines rev.
Blitzwing can’t hold back; why should he when your frame is begging for him? He’s the first one to move to, swiftly pulling his hips back and ramming forward, he frags his spike right against the entrance of your forge, threatening to breach it.
“You slaggin’ cheat!” Astrotrain huffs, quick to not fall behind and let that sack of scrap frag you better than he can! His thicker spike slams against your ceilings nodes, he’s already drooling at just how fragged dumb you are already, as if he’s not close behind you.
By Primus, you are wet. Blitzwing finds himself biting his dermas so hard it’s bleeding. Each thrust feels like a swift punch, but it also feels like forever. By the time he bottoms out, he's panting, and trying not to sob into your neck.
"You're so tight! Frag..." Blitzwing swears, his groan bleeding into a whine.
"A perfect valve to be ruined and claimed." Astrotrain manages, as the fluttering of your valve leaves his helm spinning.
Both pull out till they were barely in, then slams back in with one rough thrust. You cry out at the sudden wave of pleasure as the head of their spikes slam into your forge tank.
"S'big! Haaa-!" You slur, throwing your helm back as they repeated the rough action, "Faster! Please!"
The two out right moan, but follow your request. It’s difficult not to lose themselves right away, though both of the triple changers could feel their resolve slipping. You feel so good!
For Blitzwing, felt everything become a blur. The only thing he cares about is the pleasure, and your cute, lewd sounds.
"Gonna fill you up... Make you mine... Wanted this for so long!" Blitzwing chants as he fucks his spike into you. This was like a dream come true! Oh how he loves you, wanted you and now getting to frag you... It was all he had ever wants.
You’re never left empty, one mech would slam in just as the other was pulls out.
You can barely process their words, your mind only thinking about how good they feel inside you.
Your optics roll back and intake falls open, your drool sliding down your chin as they use you like a fleshlight.
The pair pound their spikes into you. Your squeals echo throughout the hallway, all your sobs and cries for the entire Nemesis to hear. Blitzwing’s glossa rolls out of his mouth, a valve drunk grin stretched on his face.
You feel so good! And all your clenching is making him want to overload!
You shriek, your nails digging into Astrotrain’s shoulders, scratching him while you squeal, "T-there! Please! Fill me, need it- need your- ah!"
Their holds on you dent your metal, putting more of marks on you. Your helm tilts back against Blitzwing’s shoulder, too heavy to hold up anymore. Their spikes are constantly slamming into your sweet spot, leaving you in tears.
"Gonna overload! Oooh frag! Frag!" You cry, your valve clenching as your transfluid gushes on their spikes, making a mess on their mesh and creating a small puddle on the floor below. Your spike sprays transfluid onto Astrotrain’s stomach mesh and chassis, coating him in your filthy scent, bringing you to new heights. The only sounds that you make are fragged out of you in a punishing rhythm, your sweet cries of 'Ah! Ah! Ah!' echoing though the hallway.
"C'mon! Take it! Take all of it! G-gonna cum, mark you as mine! Aah!" Astrotrain struggles to moan out, voice cracking into a pathetic whine as his charge surgesthrough him.
“No, mine!” Blitzwing argues, sinking his denta into your neck cables, and denting them to leave an imprint of his bite along your frame.
You arch your spinal strut, body twitching as another high pitch wail tears from your sore throat. You feel another overload charge through your systems from the bite alone. The two growl and swear under their breath, spikes twitching before they overload inside you. They pound your forge tank and push all their transfluid inside, with slow, heavy thrusts to frag their fluid deeper into you. Load after load just continues being pumped into your filled valve.
Both mechs slow to a stop, venting harshly as they rest within you, making you warm their spikes. Your frame twitches sporadically, with broken weak whimpers coming from your well used voice box. Not a thought through your helm aside from more, more, more! Your hips attempt to move to grind down on them, but Astrotrain’s servos keep their hold on you.
The triple changers hiss through gritted denta as your valve clenches down on them trying to get them to frag you again.
“You just can’t stop…” Blitzwing sighs, struggling to decide if he can handle it or not, maybe one or two more couldn’t hurt, wait for Astrotrain to get too tired and he can have you to himself, mount you like the glitch in heat you are.
“How much can your valve even take, doll?” Astrotrain tries not to sound so shocked, after all this you still want more? Just what are those outdated codes doing to you?
Astrotrain barely pulls his spike out and grinds himself back into you valve, testing his own sensitivity. With a hushed moan, the triple changer decides for you, he could go again, maybe even shove Blitzwing out of the way and have a moment alone with you like he originally planned.
“You blasted barbarians are going to overload their capacitors! It'll take forever to fix them!" a new voice shouts, the sounds of the mech’s pedes getting closer has the triple changers looking down the hall on one livid Hook.
The constructicon wastes no time smacking Astrotrain upside the head, making Blitzwing cackle, until he’s smacked too with a loud ’thunk!' The two groan from the pain.
“Look at ‘em! You got their helm all fragged up. Do you know what issues overheatin’ can cause, it ain’t pretty!” The green mech shouts, waving a wrench around to threaten the triple changers like they were just a pack of dumb dogs. “Hand ‘em over before you two send ‘em into the well.”
“What!? You think we’re dumb enough to just hand them off to you? What for, so you can hog them for yourself? Fat chan-” Astrotrain is cut off by Hook chucking a wretch at him as hard as he possibly could, making the larger mech stumble back with a new dent to his forehead before toppling over.
Blitzwing watches the construct mech pull another tool from his subspace, ready to go pede to pede with the last standing triple changer. Thinking on it, Blitzwing is sure he could kill Hook, put him in his place and humiliate the mech by fragging you some more over him. His thoughts disappear when you try to move, but are unable to, almost like your frame was made of lead. The air pushes from your vent, only glowing brighter with each passing moment.
Ah frag it, don’t say he didn’t do anything nice for you.
Hook is surprised when Blitzwing pulls out of you, letting his transfluid leak from you before he's handing you off to the medic.
“About damn time you had some sense.” Hook takes you, gentle in how he holds your barely conscious frame to his own
“Don’t push your luck, runt.”
Just for that, the triple changer might go snitch. After all, those cone-heads are probably searching for you too, or those combaticons. What is he saying? The entire ship is hunting for you.
Hook dips while he can, muttering some choice words as he takes in the state you are in. The twitches, the glazed look in your optics, the fact you haven’t moved since being placed in his arms; it makes a pang of worry pulse through his spark. First, he is getting you cleaned up. That’s what you needed most, and some energon too, and then a long stasis. What could even be used as nesting material? Bah, he’ll figure it out when you’re asleep.
Right into the wash room he goes. He needs to make this quick before anyone else tries to take you away. Turning the faucet on, he lets the oil get warm first, and then moves you into it’s range, sitting on the floor with you tucked sweetly into his lap. His spark is melting at how you lean into his chassis, helm sluggishly nuzzling into his neck cables. Now he sees why everyone has been having a hard time keeping their servos off you. You’re so precious when you’re all fragged out like this, he can’t really blame anyone… except he will anyway.
“Sorry, boss, but we gotta get you at least half decent.” Hook speaks softly, as at least here behind a closed door he can be gentle with you without anyone seeing.
You almost win when you whimper, being moved so your back meets his chassis, your tender array exposed once more to the gentle warmth of the oil. You don’t put up a fight, allowing the mech to do whatever he wants with you. You're barely aware of him placing a cloth to your chassis, rubbing and lathering you up, cleaning your transfluid off yourself in slow motions. Hook coos as your engine begins to rumble quietly in a gentle purr, content and happy to be touched so lovingly after all the tossing around you’ve been put through.
“Look at you, all sweet f’me, yeah?” He chuckles, nuzzling his helm against yours, having read up on heat protocols just to help you better.
You don’t speak, only answering him with a lazy turn of your helm to lightly bonk against his. Soon Hook’s servo sinks lower. He shushes you when he brushes across the dents in your armor that Blitzwing’s grip left on you. The lower he goes the more you begin to stir, no longer just resting against him but actively trying to move; whether away from his touch or into it he can’t say for sure, but he wraps his free servo around your waist to make sure you can’t move too far from him.
“Easy there, boss, I got ya. Just a little more, alright?” Hook reassures you, his sweet handsome mech, all pretty on his lap.
“Mm.” You can barely hum, but your processor begins to wake up a little more.
Your frame jerks forward, a sharp inhale through your vents as Hook rubs your spike. A pitiful mewl falls from your dermas, hips shaking on his lap.
“Shh, I just gotta clean you up before we get you to your habsuite.” Or his, probably his, it’s safer.
“Hook…” You whine his name with a tremble to your voice. His touch is so light, it’s like he’s teasing you, driving you crazy!
Once your spike was clean, or as clean as he was going to get it as he watches it throb and leak more pre-fluid, he moves to your more than well loved valve. Primus, your anterior node feels so hot, pulsing even under the most delicate touches.
“Brutes just don’t know how to treat you right, such a shame.” Hook coos, but he can’t lie, seeing you so stuffed and so mindless is getting his charge going. He wishes he got to you first, and he would have, had it not been for that stupid purple seeker and his outlier.
Digits carefully glide around your valve mesh, wiping away the combined fluids sticking to it. He tries to coax as much out as he can before needing to insert his digits. His engine nearly stalls when you buck your hips sloppily into his palm, trying to get his digits in deeper, to make them curl and hit your ceiling nodes. But Hook remains strong, as much as he doesn’t want to.
“Easy, doll, don’t move, just let me do all the work.” You make it difficult to remain so calm, when you’re moving like this and making sounds like that.
Any more noise and-
The door to the washrooms bursts open and Hook can only close his optics with a deep sigh, already knowing the dumbafts who have shoved their way inside.
“You glitch, how could ya run off and leave us fightin’ everyone else?” Bonecrusher shouts, moving past Scrapper and making a beeline right to you and Hook.
“Shhh!! If you’re any louder the others will find us!” Hook scolds, but it falls on deaf audials.
“You think you can just take them for yourself and not share with us?” Mixmaster joins along side Bonecrusher.
Despite Hook’s best attempts he is shoved to the side as the others surround you, lifting you up off the ground and placing you on one of the benches just outside the shower. The six coo at your sad whimper being moved away from the warm oil.
“Don’t you worry boss, we will warm you up real good.” Scrapper pats your thigh, chuckling at how you just fall limp, spreading yourself open to welcome their touch.
“Slag am I, scrap metal!?” Hook tries to argue whilst being shoved away to the side. Since he wanted to take you for himself he will have to deal with merely taking your one of your servo’s leaving the rest of your delectable frame to the others.
Scavenger and Long Haul wasting no time diving down to either side of your hips, sucking your spike each taking a side and sucking along your thick length, spoiling you with their desperate need to taste your transfluid. Mixmaster is crouched just below, nearly out of view, blocked by the two on your lap. Green servos curl around the apex of your inner thighs, thumbs spreading those fat valve lips open to let Mixmaster see that pulsing node and dripping hole. He’s already drooling just looking at it. The heavy, heady scent of your valve almost puts him in a trance.
You can’t see past Scavenger and Long Haul, but you can feel it, though your processor runs slow from the feverish touches of your other lovers. Long Haul licks up, glossa dragging across your weeping tip lapping at the copious transfluid before wrapping his dermas around it sucking it while Scavenger kisses the base of your spike sucking each ridge on his way up, placing a servo where he once was to try and milk your cock.
Mixmaster wastes no time getting a taste of your freshly cleaned valve, already shoving his face between your legs. All you can feel is his glossa teasing your slick hole, licking and collection all your weeping fluid up, slowly, up to your sweet node making a circle with his covered glossa, dragging it back to your clenching hole, just to take what he’s collected to spit it all on your too sensitive bud before wrapping his dermas around it, sucking on it just to get you giving him more of your intoxicating slick. Laughing against your mesh as you shake.
Bonecrusher chuckles, holding the sides of your helm in his servos making you tilt your head back to look at him, more so at his spike, fat and long. Your optics widen for a brief moment yet your intake already drops open, drooling and ready to be filled. Slowly, the heavy mech guides his spike down your throat, pipe bulging with each rut of his hips shoving cock down your intake. The towering mech groans loudly, drool sliding down his chin feeling you swallow around his spike, your throat tightening around his length trying to milk him. Frag, you’re just too much!
Your optics begin to cross, tears welling in them. It’s too much, you can’t take much more of this! Primus, they are trying to off line you. Yet your frame begs to differ. Scavenger and Long Haul needing to hold your hips down to keep you from throwing them off. Your pedes squirm, heels digging into Mix Master’s back strut as he sucks on your pretty node. Whimpers and moans muffled on the fat spike choking you, unable to handle such lavish attention.
“That’s it, sweetness, let us handle ya.” Bonecrusher sighs out, his vocal components shorting for a brief moment as he overloads, his transfluid coating your intake, giving you too much with it starting to overflow from around him. Bonecrusher pulls out, letting some of his cum spurt across your face and chassis. while Hook and Scrapper are feeling up your frame, groping your mesh and teasing as your transformation seams as they fuck their spikes into your fists.
“Aw poor boss, yer lookin’ a bit flustered there.” Bonecrusher can’t help but tease, knowing you can’t answer him let alone even hear him.
You do nothing but moan, swallowing all of his cum that you can and opening your intake once more showing you’ve swallowed all he had to give, yet trying to tempt him to keep going, making Bonecrusher swear loudly.
The surprise suction to your anterior node makes your optics widen and back strut arch. It’s too good! Too much! Your frame still so used and sensitive from how many mechs have fucked you, but your heat clouds it all, the mixture of pain and pleasure becoming so intoxicating! Your hips bucking torn between more and escaping the hold you’re in. Long Haul chokes not expecting to take much more so suddenly, though his optics roll back with your transfluid gushing down his throat and trying to greedily drink it all.
Just to be shoved away by Scavenger, who swiftly slams your spike all the way down his throat, sucking and messily slurping down the remaining transfluid you have.
“You afthole, it was my turn on their spike!” Though the snarl falls on deaf audials.
Mixmaster, however, is left unchallenged, his own hips bucking into the air with his dermas off your node and right to your creaming hole. He can’t stop moaning against the pretty valve in his face. When your frame goes limp then the three pull off your array, leaving you venting harshly. Your optics are glazed over, audials feeling like they are stuffed with mesh, barely registering the group are all smirking and chuckling, already planning how to pick you apart now that they have you alone in the washroom with them.
“Slag, just look at you! Ain’t you a filthy sight?” Hook coos at you, moving his hips in your almost limp fist. Primus, he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he is, he’s suppose to be taking care of you, washing you up for a long stasis, but he really isn’t any better than the other cons, is he?
“Could keep ya all to ourselves like this.” Scrapper sighs out, his engine rumbling in a low purr taking in the sight of you, all fragged out and dripping with transfluid, watching your all too sensitive hips twitch up on their own accord, spurting more of your own transfluid like you overloaded just from their words.
You whimper, optics slowly blinking as you try to gather yourself, but all you can focus on is Bonecrusher’s still throbbing spike against your face. The mech before you huffs, his frame gently shaking as you run your glossa along what you can reach, giving it a wet kiss as a silent ‘thank you’. You really are after his spark, ain’t ya?
Scavenger leans back, silently shoving Mix’s helm out of the way, much to the other’s annoyance. But Mix focuses his energy onto your gaping holes, showing his love by pushing his glossa in and licking your fluids right from the source. Scavenger wets his digits with his own spit before reaching down and pinching your pulsing node between his digits.
Your optics widen, pedes snapping shut around Mixmaster’s helm with a violent tremble, your intake dropping open with a loud squeal that makes your voice crack and pitch into static. Your hips lurch forward, grinding across Mix’s face, using him for your pleasure. Mixmaster’s optics roll back, his hips jerking, humping the air in desperation, spraying his transfluid everywhere expect where he wants it the most.
A series of swears echo around, jaws dropping at the sight of those pretty optics rolling back with tears stinging them. Your overload gushing from your valve, coating Mix and Scavenger in your spraying transfluid.
“Keep goin’!”
“Primus, look at them! Get a picture, look at that slaggin’ face!”
“That’s it, Boss, lookin’ so good for us! Keep screamin’, c’mon, let’s hear that pretty voice.”
Scrapper’s helm perks up, looking away from you at an all too familiar sound.
“Scrap, we have company.”
Hook groans, still fucking his transfluid into your fist, “See this is exactly why I told you bag of bolts to keep it down!”
Just how many more are going to have your body for themselves?
I'm not very good but i wanted to try, and i had this cute idea the other day so..
also, CW cringe dialogue xD
Maybe I'll try to do more comics! I'll research some techniques and tips for doing panels, omgee they are so difficult!
I’ve been reading this webtoon called Gal-Axy and the alien love interest in it reminds me so much of what Perceptor would be like in love, so I redrew my favorite favorite couple of panels with Percy and IV.
May I humbly request something with swerve, perhaps us cracking him till he's incoherent🙏 I like my men a babbling mess underneath me
IDW Swerve x Mech Reader (Fucked Stupid)
He is so much smaller than you. It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. But then again, it does seem to also have its effects on Swerve, so who are you to really overthink it. Purposefully tugging his arms further under himself; making himself smaller and giving you more of a chance to loom over him as your arms wrap around him. Holding him tightly and close to your chest.
You simply couldn’t help yourself. He’s so limp in your hold, pliant as you angle his hips up for him to better crash with your own as you continue to thrust into the warm heat of his valve.
Hoisting a leg over an arm, as he scrambles for where to hold on, letting him get used to the new angle before picking your speed back up and pressing him further into the metal beneath him.
It is so unlike him to not comment on every adjustment you do for his enjoyment, from the way your hands linger by his hip joint to the way you’re filling him more than he ever knew his frame could comfortably handle. Part of you adores his forced silence, knowing the drool on the table is more than enough of a say as to why he is.
Letting out only breaths and whimpers, forgetting to swallow as you have yet to get enough of him. Swerve obviously attempts to keep his processor coherent, grounding himself by grabbing handfuls of your arms and finding it only spurring you on.
You pant against his wheels, adoring the way Swerve shivers at the sudden warmth. You can’t reach his face and stay in him as well, but oh you wish you could. He deserves to have those coloured cheeks kissed and nibbled on, to maybe give him something more to focus on but the sheer girth between his legs.
Swerve gasps once you pull back your hips again, making you giggle. Not fully ready when you change position again, but also not wanting you to stop for even a second.
What do you think it WOULD take to make Chase blush?? The other rescue bots in comparison I feel are easy enough to fluster by either complimenting/teasing them, but what do you think it would take to get Chase flustered??
I have the stupid idea that if his human s/o learnt police codes to impress Chase it would have him clutching his chest
I think Chase is as Chase does. You give him back what he gives, and he won't know how to handle it. Be blunt, and honest, genuine. Tell him you find his smarts admirable, and he makes such a fine police bot that it's hard to think of anyone better for the position. You find his ability to catalogue sexy.
Stuff like that I think would make him blush and stammer as he tries to regain his composure. He'd be so flattered, though, cause I doubt he gets many compliments about his catalogue skills.
Reciting police codes would take a bit of time, since he's a bit literal, but once he understands that you do it as a fun way to bond and flirt with him, Chase is receptive to that as well! He's looking up the most obscure laws and codes just to "arrest" you and take you back to his habisuit for imprisonment cuddles and kisses (which is makes sure to assure you are not mandatory; you can leave whenever you need to)
Saw in your post you were hoping for more Wheeljack requests so what about Wheeljack with a human s/o that gets super shy when he flirts with them because they think he’s just messing around and not being serious?? Like they don’t believe someone as cool as Wheeljack would ever be interested in someone like them
Sun Warmed Metal
You sense him before he even brushes one of his large digits against your side, venting warm air over your head. He smells like motor oil and metal warmed by the sun until it burns to touch, and it makes you think of summer days, careless and fun even with the slight burns. His touch feels that way too, sometimes, like it burns and brands into your skin, forever yours to carry around in his absence.
"Hey, doll." He rasps, voice deep and gravelly and so fond you want to melt. You keep your gaze on your phone, scrolling mindlessly past posts you don't fully read. "Wanna go for a joyride? Sun's blazin' today and it feels good."
"Feels good to you." You retort, unable to help the smile crawling across your face. Wheeljack sees it too, grinning with those tired optics of his. "I burn under this kinda sun."
"Talkin' like I wouldn't protect you." He says on a snicker. His digit nudges you closer to him, pressing you into his cheek for a nuzzle that lights every nerve with static. "My favorite little fleshy."
"Shut up." You grumble, not that you push him away. "You're such a liar."
Wheeljack scoffs, as though he isn't the biggest flirt of the Autobot team, cutting up and laying lines onto any bot he sees, you included. He's got nicknames and little touches for everyone. You're no one special to him, you can't be. Just a little human amongst all the big bots.
"You don't see me drivin' around with the others." Wheeljack reasons, but you just shoot him an unconvinced look, because you do see him driving around with the others. A lot. "Outside of missions, doll."
"Save it for someone you actually like." You shoot back him, smirking but hurting a bit inside. Not that you let yourself feel that for long, since Wheeljack is frowning now. Well, more pouting than anything. "Oh, don't give me that."
"All humans must be dense." The bot mutters to himself, ignoring your offended huff. "That would explain a lot." Instead of letting you defend yourself (your species? less so), Wheeljack sets his chin down on the surface your stood on, servos coming around you back so you're caged in near his face. "You know how much I like ya, human?"
"Enough to not call me by my name ever?" You ask sullenly, just to make him laugh.
"Oh, them's fightin' words, honey." Wheeljack says on an engine purr. "Guess I'll need to pick it up."
"Pick it up??" You echo.
Wheeljack scoops you up into his servos, cradling you against his chassis as he gives Ratchet a lazy wave. The medic tries to protest him leaving with you, but Wheeljack is already down the tunnel that leads out of the silo.
He transforms seamlessly around you, a symphony of move parts that curl and fold inwards until you find yourself settled into a comfortable leather seat. You marvel the intricate moving parts, always left a little giddy after seeing such amazing technology up close and personal.
"Jackie!" You laugh, the radio buzzing a low ballad through the car. "Where are we going?"
Wheeljack graces you with a chuckle of his own. "Gonna find ourselves the best place to watch a sunset."
i think pen would look really good in red soooooo cliff or sideswipe?
They’re kinda turning into closet cosplays only because I feel like Cliff and Sides don’t give off fancy/lots of accessory vibes and Penelope probably would base the outfits a lot on vibes
Just different aus of Penelope matching with different bots I ship her with. First two is Hound and Prowl, last two are my friend’s ocs. (Skybreaker belongs to @smallestapplin and Invictus belongs to @savvymantis)
I might do more? They don’t have to be bots I ship her with but I really liked this outfit exercise after having a lot of art block. You can send in some outfits you want to see if you want! I’ll just be designing it based off of Penelope.
