Hello, I'm Bic! This is a blog full of kittyposting, hornyposting, visual novels, and sometimes horror content!
More about me: I'm 25, and despite posting horror vn things, I am actually a big scaredy cat! I'm a trans man, so please use only masculine terms for me.
Tags:
#kittyposting: posts that make me feel specifically kitty/kittenplay stuff :3
#hornyposting: nsft posts, tagged so anyone can filter them!
FOR VNs/Fandoms: #[lowercase full title] ex. #boyfriend to death and for specific characters, it is #[abbreviation]<space>[character name] ex. #f&h enki
#fave: certain posts that make me feel a kind of way...
Things I like: Petplay, hypnosis, overstim, orgasm control, bondage, and intox
Things I want to try: Knifeplay, bloodplay, bondage, overstim, medfet, somno, and latex
Hard No's: Age play, detrans, incest, and bodily fluids (scat/piss)
HARD NO'S IS NOT A DNI LIST!! It just means I don't post about it or I don't really enjoy seeing it. Consenting adults always.
May I add more angst to the Yandere Transformers LL x Reader AU? ;)
What if instead of the Lost Light Gang destroying the space bridge to Earth…They drug Reader to keep them? Hear me out…The Gang is most definitely feeling upset and saddened that Reader is retiring and will soon be leaving them behind to return to Earth.
One day, you decided to announce that you are going to be hosting a goodbye/get together with all your friends (secret admirers). Everything is going great and everyone is having fun, when all of a sudden you feel woozy and everyone panics as you fall to the floor and pass out.
When you awaken, your co-workers surround your hospital bed with worried, tear ridden, (guilty?) expressions. Ratchet claims that you have gotten sick and urgently suggests that you extend your stay on the ship so that you could feel better.
You reluctantly agree and everyone is overjoyed, but you couldn’t tell if it was because they wished you well or if they were happy that you got to stay longer. Either way, you didn’t question it.
But wait…who was in charge of baking you the cake?
Ooooooh you evil evil eviiiil anon, I like what you're thinking.
You best believe it, they all planned it. They maybe chaotic and brash, but they WILL get the job done. Its scary too in third person that they coordinate smoothly like gears in clock work. No bicker, no fights, no sabotages. Just a silent agreement.
They will cover whatever they're doing from you, especially if its FOR you.
If you tell them you're retiring in the podium of the main hall, telling everybody you were grateful for this journey and group, that you'll always remember them. Then just silence, pure silence. You look around nervously. That yeah, you've been working for so long in this crew, but to them, it was a couple days. They forgot to realize that you're life span is quick, easy to take for granted when they lived for millions of years.
So Rodimus quickly puts you down and tries to get everybody to clap and congratulate you, his smile forced and his eyes twitch. You can't see it from the bottom of his pede, but everybody does. When you went to bed, he quickly commms everybot for an emergency meeting, that knowing you will be leaving in one human month, to them its a couple of hours to prepare and prevent you from leaving. That they devised a plan, to make you unable to go back to Earth.
Brainstorm and Perceptor were tasked with providing a soft and delicate poison with the samples Nautica provided. Ratchet and the rest of the medics will do the portioning and baking part. Ultra Magnus made you relief from your duties, an early retirement he said. The rest distracted you like their lives depended on it, they told you that for the last week, the whole week, it will be a party just for you.
You've been eating alien food ever since you joined the crew, so your stomach should be able to handle it. But no, slowly you were blacking out, it wasn't the normal food coma you'd experience. It was like blacking out drunk. Your fingers numbing, your head in a daze and your vision dotted.
And then you were in life support, you can only slurr your mouth and take heavy breaths everytime you tried to talk. Your arms punchered with needles, you don't even care anymore half of the drugs. You were too dazed to care, you just want to go home and rest. To the point you slept for days, couldn't wake up.
Outside your slumbering self, a mechanical body is ready to receive it small host. You will live forever not as a human, but as a Cybertronian.
This drew some inspiration from an amazing fanfic by DesdemonaKaylose! I'm more interested in a different angle, but still giving a shout-out to an excellent fanfic and writer. Give it a read and a kudos at AO3.
You really don’t know why the pending arrival of one single mech has the entire Ark in an uproar, and the stilted explanations are going so far over your head, they might as well be on the moon. It would help if they’d slow down and sit still for a second, but ever since Teletraan picked up on their approach to earth, all the mechs have been acting weird as hell. Even the Decepticons. They were usually all too happy to ruin your day, but they had also been acting strange - so apparently they knew about it, too.
(For goodness' sake, you’d run straight into Ravage on another of his countless break-ins that gave Red Alert panic attacks. And he hadn’t even reacted past wrapping his long, sensor-filled tail around your waist like a vaguely not-murdery metal mountain lion. He’d muttered something indistinguishable and prowled off without even a hint of desire to kidnap and/or hold you hostage. You’d never seen him that distracted.)
It was times like this you wished you had another human or two around to compare notes, but no such luck.
Prowl and Jazz were locked in a meeting with Optimus, and hadn’t come out. The scientists were all having a heated debate over something that you couldn’t make heads or tails of. Drift was meditating and trying his damndest to keep Hot Rod out of trouble. First Aid had taken over the infirmary, after Ratchet had thrown some things and yelled and stomped out of the ship. He’d gone tearing off into the wilderness, and a few other mechs who were uncharacteristically quiet, had followed him with less fanfare.
You might not quite be able to consciously read EM fields, at least not yet, but the whole vibe was weird as fuck and it was starting to get to you. You went looking for any of your friends who weren’t in a meeting or otherwise locked behind closed doors, but today, nobody seemed to have time for you.
In the end, you wind up running into the new mech before you find any of your friends. There’s a section of the Ark that had been torn open to the elements, and since it was easy to seal behind a blast door, they’d left it alone as it had a lovely view of the surrounding mountains. It had become a popular hangout for anyone off-duty, and yourself.
Since you’d met the Autobots you’d become a favorite companion (or mascot, or ambassador, or…something), and there were few who wouldn’t welcome your company. You’d actually been surprised how willing many of them were to have you around. But then, was it really that surprising when you were equally fascinated? Today you wonder if there might be someone you could talk to out there on the deck, and wander your way up and out.
It’s a beautiful late spring afternoon with the sun slipping toward the horizon, but true twilight still a long time away. You startle a mockingbird as you brush past some of the plant growth that has overtaken this unofficial “observation deck,” and pause to watch its white-flashed wings dart to a thick string of cables far overhead. You can’t help talking to it, what feels like the only living thing you’ve seen in a while.
Sorry, catbird. Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not going to hurt you. The bird chatters back at you, tilting its head. You smile at it. Always singing everyone else’s songs, aren’t you? Ever feel like you’re missing out on your own?
You’ve become close with the mechs, but sometimes you feel like there’s so little you can do to return the kindness they’ve given you…
In that little shivery place that Drift keeps swearing is your burgeoning ability to read auras, and which you’ve just always thought of as intuition, you feel someone watching you with an intent curiosity. It’s not the mockingbird. You turn and jump back, startling the bird and yourself, when you spot him.
You only catch a glimpse of that intensely curious look on his face - the one you’d expected - before the mech blinks and looks a little chagrined.
Forgive me, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was interested in your interaction. Is it common for humans to speak to wildlife? Or is it something you, in particular, do?
He’s been standing further out, clearly admiring the view near the edge. The edge where the bots hadn’t bothered putting up a safety rail despite the heart-stopping drop-off to the valley floor below.
That, and a general lack of familiarity, makes you keep some distance from this mech. The new guys weren’t always what you’d come to think of as organic-friendly, right away. Even the ones who were, weren’t trusted with getting close to you until they’d gotten the How To Be Around Humans Without Murdering Them talk from one of command. They’ve never intentionally hurt you, but there have been some…incidents, and you don’t want another, especially with everyone distracted.
So you give the stranger a slight smile and brush off what was, after all, just a startle, but you don’t make a move to get closer.
No worries! Humans are a little jumpy. Or so everyone tells me. And they had told you that repeatedly. You’d never thought yourself twitchy before, but compared to them, you are.
I never had any basis for comparison, before. It’s a reflex thing. Probably something about a false positive of a tiger hiding in the brush, being a lot more survivable than a false negative of the same thing.
You give a little shrug, feeling his attention turning deeply curious again. Birds are smart. Some of them can recognize faces. I’m not sure if mockingbirds can. But better to be nice to them anyway, you know? I guess some people do it. A lot of people probably wouldn’t notice.
But you did notice. The way he says it feels like an open ended question, like he’s leaving room for you to decide whether or not you want to explain further. It kind of makes you want to, but you sidle around it instead.
You noticed me, you toss back playfully, and you’re treated to a twist of his mouth. Oh good, he has a sense of humor.
You’re rather hard to miss. The only organic on a Cybertronian ship. The first of your kind to meet mine. He seems to blink to himself, optics flashing. You expect him to maybe come closer, and brace yourself for him to grab you for a closer look, like many of the bots have done upon first meeting you.
Instead he neatly folds his legs and sinks into a sitting position. Getting comfortable, he reaches into a little compartment you hadn’t even noticed, and withdraws what you’ve come to know as something like candy made out of energon. He looks at it for a second and there’s a pleasantly wry smile on his face, as he sets it aside.
I would offer you a rust stick, but I fear they’re not palatable for you, and I would hate to make you sick. I don’t have anything suited for organics. But maybe you would permit me to ask you a few questions? I admit, I’ve been curious about the dominant species on your planet.
You’re canny enough to realize his actions were calculated. He sees you're unsettled, and rather than approach, he’s taken away the possibility of you getting stepped on. Is letting you decide whether or not you want to come closer.
You have to give it to him, for someone who's never met a human before, he's good at reading the room so to speak. You’re not sure if you should be annoyed to be treated like a nervous cat, or appreciative that he’s putting the ball in your court.
You settle for rewarding him with a few steps toward him, though still out of grabbing range.
I don’t know if I can answer everything, but sure! I’m not someone who can speak for everybody though, you caution, fidgeting with the end of a trailing vine of honeysuckle. It perfumes the air and you take a deep breath of its scent.
I’m not a military person or a leader or anything. I was just in the right place at the right time to run into the ‘bots.
He tilts his head and nods to you. I’ll keep that in mind, thank you. Now, tell me how you met the, ah, Autobots?
As you oblige, you start to warm up to him. He’s a great conversationalist, able to keep up as you divert onto everything from birds to tigers to human evolution and science - what you know of it or can look up on google, anyway. Then on to fun things like your favorite books and movies and music, your hobbies. Things drift from silly to serious and back again, almost like a dance, and though he’s letting you lead you feel sure he’s being careful nonetheless to let you take a breather when you need it.
You have a beautiful world. It’s so much more green and vibrant than I could have imagined.
It is, you acknowledge, then make a face, your tone turning bitter. If we could stop destroying it for five minutes, anyway.
You’re hardly the first to damage their home. He vents tiredly, and for the first time you wonder how old he is. How much he’s seen.
I’m older than your entire species, he says, doing that thing the mechs do sometimes that feels like mind reading. Believe me, I’ve seen destruction on a level that, I hope, you and your people will never know. Did they tell you of our home world? Its current state, and how it came to be in that state?
A little, you admit. Cybertron? Bluestreak tried to talk about it, but he got really upset and had to go for a drive with Prowl. Ratchet said it’s, um. In really bad shape from all the fighting after so long.
You’re being delicate in a way Ratchet hadn’t been; his words had been more along the lines of It’s a slagging scrap heap.
Yes, he says simply, and for a moment you can believe he is very, very old, from the weight of years that cling to him. One wonders if they'll ever get to properly go home again. If they'll let themselves go home.
I don't know, but I hope they'll like it on earth for now.
He eyes you with that intense curiosity. And how do you feel about them having brought their war to your beautiful green world? Many would be angry, even vengeful, to be invaded by this conflict. Many other species have been. Perhaps even would want to hurt them, drive them away, to keep them from hurting you.
You're already shaking your head no before he's finished speaking, and spare no time quickly answering. I'm so happy to have met all of you. It's kind of scary, yeah. Really scary. Soundwave's cassettes seem to think it's fun to kidnap me, and Shockwave's just plain terrifying. I don't like how he looked at me, the time I saw him. Like some kind of specimen waiting to be shoved in a jar.
You give a little shudder, remembering that.
But it's not like I don't understand. They're refugees. This is a diaspora, not an invasion. They haven't tried to take over the government, they don't want to. They just want energon, which we can't even use.
And to beat each other to a pulp, you admit. But how can I judge you guys for that when humans are every bit as bad? Or even worse? You have no idea the kind of things we're capable of. Just because we're small, doesn't mean we aren't destructive, too. But it doesn't mean I have to like it. And maybe they can find a way to stop the fighting. People can change. They can choose differently. Even if they don't always want to.
It's kind of depressing, but it's not like you haven't thought about this a lot. It kind of comes with the territory of befriending aliens who have body parts that turn into weapons, which they then use to try and kill each other.
Even though I've seen a lot of bad, there's so much good in all of you, you continue, speaking from the heart. Optimus is just incredible, and Drift - I don't know if you know his story, but he's amazing. Ratchet's so strong to do what he does, and Bluestreak's so sweet. I don't want anybody to be hurt. I don't even want any of you to leave. The Decepticons could stay too, if they'd stop trying to kill people. I just...wish things could be different.
Don't we all, he echoes softly, when you finally conclude.
Maybe I can help things be different, you pipe up, feeling a little foolish to say such a thing. I hope, anyway. Even if I don't know how.
The mech seems to get lost in his own thoughts for a while, and you let a comfortable silence settle over you. Until he reaches up and in a move that startles you again, removes his optics. No, wait. Are those -?
You wear glasses?! You grin at him, and he stops cleaning them with a polishing cloth to raise an eyebrow at you in question. You trot closer so you can pull off your own glasses to show him, making the world around you go blurry. He's just a creamsicle smear like this, the same way everything is without your glasses.
I had no idea mechs did the whole glasses thing! None of the others I've met have them. Look, we match, you joke, oddly delighted. You hold yours up after cleaning them off on your shirt. Can I see yours?
Of course you may, if I might ask the same? He lowers the glasses, which are way more complicated than the simple metal and glass frames in your hand, and far heavier. But he lets you carefully run your fingers along the edges, while you avoid touching anything that looks like it's part of the device. And in return, you hold yours up so he can rotate them with tiny pokes of a finger, as he squints and peers at them before putting his own back on.
Not many mechs wear them, he explains. But, well, as I said, I'm quite old.
You nod, and when he asks, you happily explain about how and why you'd gotten your glasses. How scared you'd been when you were just a little kid, crying in the ophthalmologist's chair because you thought it meant you were going blind and that frightened you. How worried you were you'd get bullied when you went to school with your new glasses. But how, over time, you'd ceased to even think about them.
We use a lot of assistive devices, you add, because he seems quite interested. Prosthetics, canes, walkers, wheelchairs. Hearing aids. I don't know what they're called, but those electronic boards that people can use to communicate, if they have trouble communicating other ways.
He's watching you closely, apparently seeing something you don't. You are ... born, not created, yes? And the body you're born with, is the one you have for life, however long or short it may be?
Well, yes, and no, you say, waffling a little. You delve into things like gender-affirming surgery, and amputation, and tattoos, and some of the many different medical conditions that can cause a person to not have a body that's textbook-baseline human. To the point you're not even sure it's fair to say there is such a thing.
He’s gentle in his prodding, when he does prod at sensitive topics, prying out of you things you haven’t even dared talk to the other mechs about.
You’ve moved a little closer so you can talk more quietly, as you look down and pluck idly at blades of grass. A nervous tic that you’re pretty sure he won’t have missed; this guy is every bit as observant as Prowl, but far better with people and not at all judgmental. Some of your fears just spill out of you.
I just worry, cause…this is stupid. But, there’s so many cool people out there, scientists and doctors and engineers, people who can do so much more for them than I can. Who can maybe understand when Percy starts going on about some math concepts I don’t get, or when Optimus and Drift start talking about philosophy. And someday they’re going to meet the whole world, and, well. They’re going to realize I’m not anything special. And why would they even want me around, then?
He gives a soft vent that’s half chuckle, and you glance up, worried he’s laughing at you. But the look on his face is oddly fond, mixed with something you can’t identify in the moment, but later might suspect is wistfulness.
My dear, I can’t tell you in words just how special you are. Or properly explain why. Do you even know how unlikely it is that you exist? Or that you would meet my people? Or, having met, that you would not react out of fear or hatred or cruelty - but acceptance, curiosity, and friendship?
You imagine you can almost feel that bright spark in his chest, oddly on display, reaching out for you. He mirrors it by extending a servo your way, which you choose to reach out and take. Closing the distance on your terms.
You shake your head, all the same, face flushing and your insides feeling weird. Like you’ve had something heavy lifted away, and now you’re not sure how to balance on your feet again. But also like you’ve been seen in a way so fundamental, it’s almost painfully intimate. Especially for this being a stranger.
He seems to realize this, because he very carefully enfolds your hands between his. Even though he’s rather small compared to the other mechs, he still absolutely dwarfs you. But it’s comforting, not intimidating. There’s just very little about this guy that would ever be frightening, you think for some reason, as you let out a deep, shuddery sigh.
You are not what I expected, he says at last, but with a twinge of self-deprecation that makes it clear he’s not upset about that. Which, in retrospect, is exactly what I should have expected.
You're unsure what to make of that, so you give a nervous laugh and look away.
Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, you quip.
And that's how you end up sitting in his lap with your phone out, him leaning over your shoulder as you show him clips from Monty Python, and then play him your favorite songs, and eventually end up laughing with him over silly tiktoks. All the while, he tugs more information out of you like someone pulling on a loose thread. Why do you find that funny? What does that song make you feel? Can you play a song that makes you feel a different way?
You're in the middle of trying to explain meme culture – a task you have completely failed at explaining to any of the mechs, but to his credit, this guy's giving it a very solid attempt – when he looks up from your phone screen, at a noise you can’t hear.
Are you looking for me, or for your friend here? he calls. You follow his line of sight and soon hear footsteps.
Drift and Hot Rod appear, but Drift goes very still when he sees you sitting in the newcomer’s lap like a toddler with a many-times-larger adult. For a second you’re afraid Drift's going to go for his swords, and your hands tighten on the creamsicle mech’s thin plating. Hot Rod also pulls up short, but then makes a quick motion forward as if to rush across the space and grab you away from some terrible danger. Drift grabs him instead, hissing quietly, Stop! You’re going to scare the human!
You’ve never been this confused by their behavior, and you've been plenty confused by it before. You put your phone down and stare in their direction.
Uh, guys? Everything okay?
It’s the orange and white mech who answers. Everything is fine, he says gently, so very calmly. His servo ghosts down your head, stroking your hair in a soothing motion. You lean into it, frowning at your friends, as he continues speaking to them.
Drift, it’s good to see you. Do take care how you wield that greatsword of yours, won’t you? Dreadful thing really, but it couldn’t be in better servos, if it has to be in anyone’s.
He turns to Hot Rod. Young Rodimus…ah, no, not yet. Forget I said that.
Said what? Roddy asks, blinking, and Drift is rubbing at his helm as if a bird just brushed against him.
Exactly. Now, my dear, I believe I’ve taken up enough of your precious time. But if I may steal more of it, later…? I’ve enjoyed our talk a great deal. I hope you feel a little better?
I do, you say, smiling up at him. Thank you. I’d love to talk with you again.
On impulse you throw yourself at his chest, pressing your cheek to his spark-window as you give him a hug. He’s so warm and feels…different. Good, but different. You like him a lot.
He jerks a little in surprise, before tentatively curling around you in return. His hand cups your back as if he's afraid he’ll break you, or perhaps in disbelief that you would allow this, before pressing more firmly to hold you close. To your surprise, you feel him dip his helm and place a kiss on your head, and then he rests his chin on you with only a whisper of weight to let you know he's there.
No, he says with the sincerity of ages, thank you. For being willing to give my people a chance. For being willing to try. You’ve given me a great deal to think about.
Likewise, you admit. You reluctantly pull away when you can hear Drift and Hot Rod nervously shifting around. Giving the mech - your new friend, obviously - a farewell pat to his chest (Drift makes a noise like a sputtering engine). You accept when he solicitously offers you a hand to help you down to your feet.
Bye, um. Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name! You feel like a doofus; you hadn’t offered him yours, either. You tell him, and get a soft, pleased smile in return. Meanwhile, you think Drift has nearly collapsed into Roddy’s arms, and you’re really starting to worry about them. You shoot them a strange look.
I am Rung, he tells you, and gives you a gentle nudge towards your anxious mechs. Now, I’ve upset your friends enough. Take care of yourself, won’t you?
You nod and wave farewell with a cheerful Bye, Rung! You have already turned around and don’t see the startled, incredulously happy look on his face at the sound of his name coming from you.
Drift and Hot Rod can’t usher you away quickly enough, it seems. Drift grabs you and holds you close and all but flees, but he gives a deep bow to Rung first (weird?) Hot Rod stares a little suspiciously at the orange and white mech. He bows, too, when Drift whacks the back of his helm with a servo. Then they’re skedaddling like Prowl’s about to catch them in the act of a prank.
Guys, what in the world-?! You exclaim when you’re out of earshot of Rung. Why are you acting so weird?! You didn’t think he was going to hurt me, did you? Rung’s really nice!
Drift opens his mouth, closes it, and shares a look with Hot Rod that’s full of silent communication. You wish, not for the first time, that you had a line in to their private network. But finally Hot Rod and Drift both seem to settle, and you realize just how puffed-up their plating had been.
Don’t worry about it. It’s a Cybertron thing, Hot Rod says eventually. But he reaches out and pulls you into his servos from Drift, stroking a finger down your back as if to cement that you’re unhurt. Hey, you must be hungry. Want a road trip to that new restaurant you wanted to try? And if you get takeout, we can take you to that park you like so you can eat. And maybe see if something’s playing at the drive-in?
It’s very clear they’re trying to get you away from the Ark for a while. Well, at least they’re paying attention to you again? The air is still full of things unsaid, but in the interest of not letting the mood go back to odd vibes, you give them the out.
I’d love to, you say, leaning back in the speedster’s hands. He seems to relax as you relax; something you’ve noticed tends to happen with them. You do have to ask one thing, though. Because they might have forgotten, but you haven’t.
Hey, Roddy? Why would you ever change your name to “Rodimus”?
The mechs both look at you like you’ve lost your mind, and then Roddy bursts into laughter. Drift chuckles along.
Me, going by Rodimus? That’s a good one. Did Bee put you up to that? He snickers. Imagine, me, a Prime!
They start joking about it, finally easing the tension, as you’re left to wonder. And to remember.
How 'bout some G1 yandere Starscream,Skywarp,and Thundercraker liking the same human
Starscream, Skywarp, and Thundercracker
- You wanna see World War 3? Because this is how WW3 starts. Thundercracker and Starscream will both try to keep it to themselves in the beginning, but Skywarp just up and says how much he loves that human and now it’s a challenge.
- Starscream will try to woo you with his “charm”. Sure, he is capable of being smooth, but in this scenario the competition adds a level of edge to it. It also doesn’t help that it comes off as extremely creepy 99% of the time. His gaze is piercing and you can feel his desire emanating off of him, anytime he is near you are bound to feel chills running down your spine. However, he is very charismatic and will use it to his advantage.
Bird Care|Afab! Yuren! Reader x Yan! TF:P! Soundwave
TW: Toxic Relationships, Yandere themes, themes of possession, themes of stalking, suggestive themes, nudity
A/n: I may do a Ratchet version or maybe some the Lost Light crew version of Yuren! Reader but if this fic is well received or it’s requested
OG Yuren! Reader concept here!
Enjoy the fic
——————————
It was fairly obvious a concept, being able to fly. As a bird? Yes it was as instinctive as breathing- but as a human with oversized talons and giant wings that can’t even grasp a bag of chips?
Yeah- not simple when having a body that is not your original body.
At first it was a fright, then an exhilarating moment before the horrifying revelation came about when you saw other people and they screamed at the sight of you, seeing and dubbing you as some cryptid name-
Not like you stayed around for long when you saw what seemed to be a weapon.
Now you have been hiding out in the wilderness, scrounging for food and basically trying to find a hiding place to be safe from any weird government agency that might dissect you, imprison you, or treat you like some alien species.
That was until you saw an alien species, observed more like it while hiding away in the crevice of a mountain that was supposed to be your hiding place. It didn’t take long for you to realize that you were somehow launched into a world of alien shapeshifting robots.
It was somehow worse since you almost had been crushed by one that didn’t notice you, and you were thankful that you didn’t incite the wrath of one vehicon that mistaken you for a human spy for the autobots- you didn’t even know how to contact them since they were out in the outskirts somewhere, even then you didn’t know how it would be possible to drop in and ask for a place amongst them since well-…
They were visited by an FBI agent working with the Pentagon….
All you really wanted, was food, shelter, someplace where it is remote, safe, to be able to actually practice flying and maneuvering around your bird legs- all you could successfully do was randomly grip into the ground and trip over, weak chirps leaving your throat instinctively.
For someone who admired bird mythology and feathered humanoids within tapestries of human history and culture, it felt insulting to the mythology of those beings when you act like a helpless duckling.
And now currently, you were standing over in a mountain, over a ledge, you looked down at your own body.
A smooth human chest, absent of human hairs, it still felt so wrong, like some furless rodent, the way you were slightly distracted by your own muscles tensing up and your nipples perking up made you quick to cover yourself with your large wings, puffing up your feathers, you looked down at the mountain and carefully scoot away from the ledge as fear struck you swift like a punishing backhand.
For all those flapping practices…. Those swift jumps and dives into lakes and large enough bodies of water to make a soft landing, the mock trials, at best you could glide a short distance, your body was light as a bird, and you have worked your bird legs so much that they ached and yet you perfectly control every sharp talon.
Your feathers flared up as a pensive expression was on your face, before confusion took over, wondering what it was that made you so paranoid this time.
These bird-like senses really made you absolutely believe that you were being watched at the most random times, you didn’t like to think about it much since those times were when you either in a humiliating position in preening, trying to get your hair out of the way, even the shameful moments where you had some….
Urges to satisfy to say the least….
A small bite to your lower lip as you glanced around, you stared back at the ledge, before looking away to take some deep breathes.
“This is easy- just… fast flapping, tuck in bird feet…” you started, looking at your wings as they twitched,”… and more flapping, easy….only it is just uhm…. Bungee jumping! Yeah….”
This wasn’t bungee jumping.
Your wings fiddled around your head, feathers tickling your human skin, your cheeks twitched a bit from the tickling sensation as you tried to brush away your now long and messy hair from the tiring couple of months you had to endure before your body craned around, and then, the moment you have been waiting for….
Your wings began to spread out, the only repeating mental image in your mind was bird flying, the rapid thrum of their wing beats, the graceful ascent, wing brushing against the very fabric of the air….
The fresh air within the bounded atmosphere, the sound of wind whipping past and feel like everything unclaimed by humans before they created aircraft.
Your talons clicked against the stone, your wings raised, a deep short breathes before you began to run, just one foot in front of the other, imagining yourself with simple human arms again, up and down in strokes, imagining the possibility of feeling the world at your feathertips.
Panic short circuited your mind as you threw yourself off of the tall ledge, the burst of adrenaline made you flap your wings with the desperation of a chicken at the mercy of a butcher, wind whipping past your hair yet now into the descent back into the ground.
Yet in that folly you began to flap more desperate, working every muscle in your wings, your talons outward as your eyes clenched shut, you waited for the crash, the moment your face would be bleeding, yet nothing.
You cracked open your eyes immediately to see what was happening, you in the skies, flying, actually ascending into the sky, almost closer to the clouds….
“Woah…..” you gasped softly, eyes wide as you took in the above than the below, imagination ran wild with your memories of just seeing this in tv or from the safety of a passenger seat within an airplane.
But in this state? Just you and you alone achieving this level of success and having to do this all on your own? It was more exhilarating than exhausting.
Your eyes gazed down at the world below, much like the birds that looked down upon the world, the rush made you bold enough for a slight dive, changing position and folding your wings in a motion you noticed large birds of prey taking on, and in a swoop down, you passed through a small cloud and shivered as you quickly flapped your wings out wide to glide again, your tail feathers moving about before you had the sense to tuck in your talons.
And this was the start of a vice.
Flying didn’t become just a necessity, once you felt like you conquered it, you felt immortal, nothing could touch you in the skies, you didn’t have any device to track you, you didn’t need to cover yourself with your wings when up in the sky, it felt so freeing, liberating enough that it became a habit to try out maneuvers; spinning, diving, swoops and circles, a mixture of all and daring moves that started from stones that were far apart to the trees.
It brought a smile to your face, the thrilling high, it was soaked up by your mind and brought you into a delusion of grandeur.
You forgotten about the Decepticons and the Autobots, you forgotten about the fact that you felt like something- someone was watching you.
And that wasn’t some paranoia.
It was one day that you had discovered the someone watching you, at first you were bathing yourself in a lake, flapping your feathers to dry up as fast as you could before hearing a sort of buzzing sound, your feathers flared as your body was still, you couldn’t pinpoint the noise, you were surrounded by trees, it wasn’t the place to fly off.
It was like this was planned….
“…..” your breath stilled, your heartbeat felt still as you turned your head, first it was to your behind, your side, your other side, your front….
Then you look up…. And you see something, it was thin, yet the way it was shaped, it looked like some kind of drone, your eyes squinted until your body’s feathers flared up when you heard the unmistakably sound of a jet.
Oh no…..
Your wet feathers went ignored as you instantly ducked into the forest, the trees were close together, not for any possible way of a jet to land, a drone could get tangled up and lost, that is what you thought. Your breath weak as you tried to catch your breath, yet your eyes were rapid in their turns and processing the information they were seeing.
In a moment of panic, you fled at the first rustle of somewhere nearby, your wings flapping desperately to take off, for something that wasn’t even second-natured a few weeks back now like as desperate as gulping huge amounts of breath, your talons bouncing off of the ground in a back of forth like trying to not touch the floor as often as you could.
When at last you seem to be flying again, your eyes turned to look behind you only to see the drone now ascending out of the forest, the brush was like nothing but an object to move out of when it is no longer needed, it was efficient alright, and fast!
You didn’t know what it was, whether it was a government sanctioned drone or something else, whatever it was, you knew that if the drone was following you, then the fact was clear enough that someone will come after the drone to you by extension.
Flying was now not just a thrill anymore- it was survival!
Swooping down and swerving around obstacles, not daring to make contact with the ground, in fact you were climbing higher into the sky, hoping the altitude would make the drone fall back.
But it kept pursuing, like no matter what you could do, you couldn’t shake it off like a tick, it made you desperate to avoid the drone by any means necessary.
You simply let yourself go, a release of your wings and you began to slip past the clouds, falling from the sky and finally for a moment, you seemed to have lost the drone as you rolled mid-air and spread your wings to glide.
But it wasn’t over…
Far from it.
Your eyes turned heavy as you heart that buzzing sound again, you look back and there you see the drone, your ears were starting to hurt from the sounds the drone was emitting, the frequency was making you disoriented and yet with each time you seem to finally out maneuver the drone, it came back with a tenfold of determination.
You started to feel restless as those sounds were carrying on for hours, the pain in your brain just wanted it to end, your wings were trying hard to remain gliding in the air.
Eyes squinted in pain as you became aware that you were exhausting all of your maneuvers.
And soon enough, it took one wrong turn to have you crashing to the ground, thankfully not harmed that badly as your wings were caught by branches, yet only one remained unharmed while the other was broken, body caked with mud as a storm had started to hit hard with rain.
Your eyes squinted as rain drops descended on your broken form, pain shooting through your weak body as you tried to move, the buzzing sound came close….
Your face fell back into the ground, torso expanding and thinning with each heavy breath, your hair splayed out in an unrefined mess, your form all indicative of the current pain and suffering you were experiencing. You heard the buzzing sound and hoping it would end or at least you could pass out to be spared the feel of further pain.
The last thing you saw was a bright light, and feeling almost weightless…. Like you were being carried into that light, the buzzing sound ceased yet your mind kept it ringing in your ears.
The next time you woke up, you found yourself in a bedding of hay and compiled amounts of branches and fur, like someone trying to make a nest or at least provide material for a bird nest.
“Where—!” You croaked out before tripping over yourself as you felt something heavy, leaning forward and crashing into the bounds of the nest, mostly cushioned by the soft security of the nest:
As your gaze looked behind you to see if anything was holding you back, you noticed the adornment of white, before noticing your own torso feeling covered, as you looked more clearly, your right wing was covering in a sort of weird mix of technology of human medical care, mostly bandages covering your torso yet sticking your right wing close to your torso like a cast.
Your other wing was still free, your talons weren’t chained, nothing was holding you back, except for the problem of location, which was dark, a greyish purple that was metallic…
It was clear enough that you were on some Decepticon stronghold- a ship maybe? You couldn’t find out now, not when you were stuck in a room with a door that didn’t exactly have a doorknob.
Yet as you picked yourself up, barely able to keep an upright position, the large high tech doors opened, parting to reveal a large lanky form that was still imposing to the eye.
Your survival instincts kicked in, your feathered featured flared out in a display of both fear and aggression, puffing out yet leaning against the was though to merge into it to avoid interacting with the large Decepticon.
Silence prevailed over the scene, the doors closed behind Soundwave as he took a step closer yet becoming still again.
You didn’t trust it, to put it bluntly.
Your mind was fuzzy, as though familiarity was making you disoriented, yet you maintained a distance, moving along the wall until backed into the farthest corner possible in the large room, showing out your left wing while your right side was tucked in behind you.
Only your breathing could be heard, the anxious thumping of your heart as it was working hard to keep you alerted and awake, even if Soundwave was one of the more trustworthy- or the most creepiest amongst the Decepticon ranks, there was no way he was keeping you here for good intentions…..
Thump
Your eyes widened, staring at him, wondering the sound was a distraction, a trick for his tentacles to catch you and wrangle you in….
“….” Hesitantly, without saying a word, your eyes trailed downward till you looked at the floor…
And there… right there, was a large chunk of fruit, it was ripped in half, the insides were fully exposed, it would have usually been an effort to rip it open yourself with the only use being the wilderness and your talon feet, yet here was one large fruit, flesh exposed, juices running down onto the floor of the room.
And Soundwave standing there….
Expectantly almost.
Your feathers flared, yet your stomach growled, so loud that it reverberated in the room, making it obvious about how long it has been since you’ve had a decent meal. A pained expression etched into your brow….
“…” An almost embarrassed look in your eyes as you reluctantly look at Soundwave, and slowly approaching the fruit, your all too human lips inching closer as your entire head and body was craning downwards and closer to the exposed flesh of the fruit.
And with a slow crunch, you bite down into the fruit, shame made you slow to chew and swallow, juices of the fruit covered the lower half of your face, yet relief of starvation melted your expression as hunger was fully realized and desperately one of your talons grasp the side of the fruit, your teeth burrowing into the flesh until there was nothing but the husk of the thick skin.
You satisfied and that momentary satisfaction was interrupted when you took one look at Soundwave only to see the looming long tentacles rising over you, four small tendrils inside of each of the tentacles elongated outwards.
You flinched, expecting to be pinned down, to get another broken wing-
Only to crack your eyes open when you felt the oddly pleasant sensation of the tendrils instead maintaining the order of your messed up feathers on your left wing, preening them as you only stared in pure shock.
The gesture was unexpected, unusual even… like how did Soundwave even know how to preen your wings when Decepticons didn’t even seem to care all to much about organics….
Your thoughts weren’t spoken aloud, mostly since Soundwave didn’t seem to react all that much, only his tentacles and even tiny tendrils were at work to preen until your wing was back into its pristine shape, it even made you look it over before becoming still as Soundwave moved…
The lanky Decepticon suddenly lowered, not enough to kneel but halfway there, yet just enough to outstretch his servos, digits outstretched to seemingly grab you….
When they soon stayed still in an outstretched motion, digits tight together as though creating a solid perch for you to climb upon to sit like any pet owner hoping for their pet bird to hop upon to perch and seek comfort.
“…..” your eyes glanced over to his outstretched servo, almost inspecting it with some doubt, your gaze returning to look up at Soundwave, to see that his blank screen of a face showed the digital image of a smiley face, probably the most encouragement he could ever offer.
Your feathers almost fluffed up, your left wing twitched, you glance at the cast and bandages covering your torso and right wing until Soundwave’s tentacle caught your eye, only it was now holding another piece of fruit.
Was he coaxing you?….
A thought lingered, unsettling, but still grimly realistic, manipulation? Trying to train you to do his bidding like some secondary eye in the sky?…
You took notice of the fact that Soundwave didn’t put the fruit in your face to recoil it, it just remained within the hold of the tentacle, holding it up like he was very much aware of what you want, what you need…
What motivates you….
“……fine….” You muttered simply, the thought of starving was just unbearable, not when you have been deprived of human interaction for so long.
Not when you couldn’t do anything in this body.
Your body scooted onto the Decepticon’s digits, talons clenched onto the two large digits, your left wing almost twitched the anticipation of the reward with little regard for your pride.
Yet shame was overshadowed with contentment as the tentacle holding the piece of fruit descended towards you gently, it barely took any coaxing to lean your head forward to bit into the exposed flesh, almost pulling away your lips so you didn’t accidentally bite into them and so the juices spill cleanly into your mouth, your left wing almost having a flutter of bliss from finally gaining the steady source of nourishment, even if it was basically being fed by the hand of a faction that pursued war so stubbornly long that they drained their own planet’s life.
Your body barely responded to the digits stroking your mane of messy hair, his other servo atop of your head to stroke away the messy lengths of hair that you failed to upkeep due to the lack of arms, your muscles shivered from the touch…
You didn’t notice that you were leaning into the physical touch.
But Soundwave does, he does notice the way your body practically cling onto him for comfort and warmth, the basic necessity to live.
And he wasn’t about to let his months of observation go to waste.
—————-
A/n: what up my readers? Just to remind yall that I am pretty much contemplating on making more Yan! Transformers and Yuren! Reader (because it’s a cool concept and my imagination is wonka on this)
So yeah! Comment down below if you wanna have more Yuren! Reader drabbles and concepts or if you want Yuren! Reader to interact with other Yan! Transformers!
So far I was thinking maybe the Seeker trio, The Lost Light Cast, or even Ratchet (TFP)
As a bit of an offering- and also because I like the concept to much- ta-dah! Some Yuren! Reader art with Soundwave! (And a bit of the cassettes) and including a bit of meme.
Enjoy and I’ll see ya in the next fic or whatever I do next lol-三三ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
“Responsible” GN Autobot Reader x various, Mainly Ratchet, Wheeljack, Hoist, Perceptor. [Smut Scenario]
Summary: Reader gets their obsolete heat protocols triggered during a battle. Horny shenanigans follow with some of the Autobots trying to be responsible.
G1 characters: Ratchet, Wheeljack, Hoist, Perceptor. (Various other Autobots and Decpticons are also mentioned here at the start)
Genre/Theme: Smut Scenario 🔞
Warnings: MDNI, Heat cycles and the other horny nonsense it usually entails, Voyeurism, Interface toys.
Pronouns: You, Your, Yours
Notes: Starts Ratchet pov and goes to Wheeljack for the most of the smut. The start of this is absolute shenanigans I will not lie to you, Spike/Valve terms used for Bot Reader, The science and Medical team on the Ark trying REAL hard not to be perverts. (They only partially succeed)
“Ratchet please-!”
“No! Get your heat ridden aft back on that berth now!” Ratchet barks out and you mutter curses the whole way back to the medical slab in the back of the medical bay. When you get there you huff and drag the privacy curtain back closed.
Rachet pinches the space between his optics and sighs harsh. His plating loosening a touch afterwards in exhaustion. What exactly else were they supposed to do about this entire mess?
It had started like any other battle via whatever new Decepticon scheme it was this month. That being the machine they’d built that exploded after you pressed the fail safe. Right before it had a chance to fire a high pressurized blast directly into the closest human city. The formula they’d used for such a high level destructive weapon ment a large and aggressive amount of energy discharge when it did explode.
And unfortunately the exact backyard mixture they’d used had a rather unfortunate effect on your frame.
Megatron had grabbed you first, dragging your limp frame upwards to use you as a hostage- Optimus stopping his failed dash for your frame to try and figure his next course of action. Megatron was in the middle of gloating and goading Optimus when he adjusted his grip on your frame and- according to Optimus- you moaned. Loud and unabashedly.
They both froze at the very obviously obscene sound and balked at your still limp frame.
Megatron jerked and stared wide opticed down at your slowly twitching frame for some reason Optimus couldn’t discern- and no sooner was Megatron shot in the helm by Powerglide flying over which sent him down and you tumbling out of his grasp. Optimus rushed and dove for your frame scooping you up and running back for cover under the sudden blaster fire. And Apparently -again according to Optimus- you almost made him trip and fall flat on his faceplate when your glossia abruptly lapped against his windshield glass. Your em field pulsing hard in want against him and the urge for anything he was willing to give you- suddenly had him assume this was what made Megatron act that way-!
Optimus had to wrestle you off of him after that with an increasing embarrassment, because every touch from him had you making rather- racy sounds in response. You had also started begging Optimus for some ahem- “Special overtime.” was the phrase Ratchet manged to get out of Optimus. Optimus did a rather quick scan of your frames internal status while you squirmed in his hold- and realized it was the explosions fault for your behavior. The abundance of energy had your virus protocols scrambling everything to dispel every ounce of heightened charge immediately as fast as it could.
Which kick started up now active “Heat” Protocols which they didn’t even realize you had-! They weren’t exactly common and were rarely activated for obvious reasons! And that had your array set as high as it possibly could get leveled too. With you attempting to get that charge out as fast as you could. Even if that was by clinging onto Optimus while his optics brightened and he was trying to dodge blaster fire. Blaster fire that lessened when bots had stopped firing to instead gawk at the loud and horny attempt you were making on your own leader. Leader who was obviously floundering and failing to get you to stop feeling him up in the middle of the battlefield.
Optimus had made it back to some of the others and Inferno had grabbed you to help get you off of Optimus. You let go of Optimus finally and instead turned your attention onto Inferno.
You shocked everyone via not waiting or asking to lock Inferno into an open mouthed kiss. Shoving your glossia in Inferno’s mouth while already trying to frot against him- Inferno’s siren sounded off in a flustered panic and Optimus had to hastily explain you weren’t exactly in control of yourself. And seemed to be under the effects of obsolete heat protocols being triggered by the energy explosion. Red Alert had to pull you off of Inferno only nearly dropping you, his frame not made to carry other mechs like Inferno or the medics were.
Taking advantage of the slightly lost grip, you just turned your greedy servos upon Red Alert instead. You didn’t hesitate to lap your glossia over the edge of one of his helm sensors. Ratchet could have been back at The Ark and Ratchet still would’ve heard the embarrassed scream that came out of their security director. Inferno had to just yank you back off Red Alert. While Red Alerts sensors were left sputtering sparks, his optics bright, and muttering incoherently.
Which had only lead to a game of pushing you onto another Autobot when your horny attention and advances got to be too much for one of them. Ratchet had tried to get a hold of you then since you were impaired and needed help sooner than later. But he kept getting blocked by blaster fire or other battlefield insanity.
And then you had gotten grabbed by Breakdown when Wildrider slammed directly into Hoist, who had a hold of you at the time and they’d all tensed. Ratchet cursed knowing they’d use you as a hostage-
Breakdown yelped when you didn’t even hesitate in turning your heat driven perversions onto the unprepared Stunticon. Your servos grabbing at his pauldron tires and squeezing was enough for Breakdown to panic- and try to get you off of him instead of trying to hold onto you. When you tried to kiss him Breakdown screamed and fell with you already clambering on top of him.
Dead End had to pull you off of Breakdown and the cycle of perversion only continued with the Decepticons now involved in your heat ridden haze.
A few of the cons actually didn’t freak out and did try and use the opportunity to take advantage of you- only to either be hit by an Autobot or even one of their own faction members telling them to get it together. But finally- finally Ratchet managed to grab a hold of you after Brawn slammed into Motormaster’s helm and Ratchet made sure to keep a hold of you- even when Decepticons tried to grab you for hostage purposes- and even more unsavory ones.
The cons finally pulled back when Optimus threw Megatron through a wall and he called for retreat.
And now Ratchet was stuck guarding the entrance to medical from you and from any other sparkdamn idiot who thought they might just “help” you with your little heat issue. He’d grabbed Sideswipe by the back of the neck and thrown him out when he tried to sneak past him. He’s also stared down Smokescreen of all bots, who froze seeing Ratchet and tried to play it off as inquiring about you. Ratchet just told him to waltz his aft back to his habsuite.
But no- it couldn’t have just been the Autobots being morons- Skywarp had decided to warp into the Ark and sneak around only to be caught by Grimlock- which had the Dinobots all chasing him out of The Ark. The Dinobots leaving a trail of destruction behind them as they went. After that the Aerial bots were set to patrol the Ark's surroundings and no sooner than a few klicks ended up in an aerial dog fight with the coneheads.
Hound by chance caught the Stunticons on the other opposite area by the base. Which thankfully the Dinobots were still hunting for Skywarp near by and promptly helped fight off the sudden appearance of Menasor.
Megatron even had the sparkdamn audacity to video call Optimus to talk- Talk of “so graciously offering” to a limited ceasefire for the duration of your sudden heat if Optimus let them “borrow” you.
That bucket helmed jackaft was lucky Ratchet wasn’t in the room for that call because he’d of ripped him a new afterburner. Though Prowl and Optimus apparently didn’t hesitate to dress him down for the nerve of the request.
Ratchet was old enough he’d had a few fleeting conversations with a few bots that had heat protocols. And he’d felt the light ever encompassing waves that their em fields would give off when the protocols were active. He had asked a few questions to the first bot he’d met with them. Wanting to know how to assist if he had to help treat a bot with it.
Ratchet was told it was like your frames on fire and you can’t think or focus on almost anything other than trying to satisfy the heat in your array. Also that the first few heats were unimaginably more difficult than the later ones. The mech he’d been talking to had said on his first heat he’d interfaced with at least five different bots in a single lunar cycle… and he had done that for multiple lunar cycles sequentially. But the mech was also in the middle of a heat cycle while talking with Ratchet. And despite the em field that was heated and almost addicting- The mech had been managing it well anyway. Seeming mostly annoyed by the entire thing as opposed to well… you in your first heat right now.
You’d already tried and failed to get into Ratchets array panel more times than he could count. Desperation not diminished in the slightest due to your overcharged array and obsolete code running in your frames make up. You’d tried flirting, to asking, to begging him to help you- and it was driving Ratchets stress levels through the sparkdamn roof! The last thing Ratchet would want for any of his patients was to keep them suffering but- you were impaired and couldn’t make rational decisions at the moment.
As far as Ratchet knew he couldn’t trust you to not run out into the woods and pop your panel for whatever con happened to be the closest- let alone make a correct judgment of consent.
Ratchet groaned when his com pinged, fully expecting to be alerted of yet another failed attempt from the Decepticons. But Ratchet was pleasantly surprised by the message in his com.
“Have a possible solution for their array. Can you bring ‘em to the lab?”
Wheeljack messaged back finally about trying to find a way to break you out of your heat. Perceptor and Hoist were also assigned to help- and also assure Wheeljack not blow anything up in the mean time. Ratchet looked at the closed privacy curtain, his audials catching what he knew was you again self servicing trying to get some type of relief.
Ratchet approached and pulled the curtain aside to be met with you on your side and three of your own digits shoved into your own valve, array utterly soaking wet with pre lubricants. Spike heavy and twiching, already leaking a small puddle of pre lubricant on the medical slab. Ratchets optic ridge only twitched having seen you in almost every compromising position in these past few days.
Almost.
“Up. We’re going to the lab.” Ratchet stepped forward but you only groaned and shoved your digits further inside your valve. Your valve mesh easily parting due to your own arousal to take the intrusions even deeper.
“Why?” You mumbled and huffed, your plating tensing and fluffing over the abundance of over stimulation you were in.
“We may have a fix for your heat. Wheeljack wants me to bring you to the lab.”
“Don’t wanna…” You mumbled like some pouting youngling- and Ratchet can feel his optic ridge crease in annoyance.
Ratchet was very aware you were in a- delicate state and that state made it hard for you to do much else other than think of fragging or getting fragged. That energy in your frame could be partially discharged with another system or in this case another frame. It didn’t necessarily need to be someone else’s spike or valve.
Ratchet was really going to have to give you an inch here so you’ll help yourself, wasn’t he?
Huffs and your other soft noises drowned out much else in the room.
“If- you behave on the way over to the lab and keep your panel closed the entire way there- You’ll get a reward afterwards... And is will be for your array.” Ratchet made sure to stress. Your frame perks and your optics now focused to lock directly onto his.
You realize he’s serious and immediately roll over on your front and pull your digits out of yourself. “Ill be good-!”
Ratchet hopes you’re right! If he had to drag you off another bot after releasing you from the room he was going to make you know exactly how mad he is at you.
-
Perceptor had came over to help Ratchet in transporting you to the lab and he met you both right outside the medbay. Your designation leaves him at the sight of you “Salutations- How have you been fairing over your latent heat protocols being activated?” He slightly tilted his helm, definitely trying to ask for educational purposes.
Your plating twitched and your optics zero’d in on Perceptor. Your gaze slowly dragging down his frame. Ratchet mentally prepared himself to inevitably having to drag you off of Perceptor. But you didn’t pounce onto the microscope.
“Struggling.” You said blunt. “So Percy- Wanna frag till I can’t think about anything but your spike hitting my ceiling node?” Oh, for Primus sake-!
“Oh my-!” Perceptor recoiled a bit and his optics widened and brightened a good few levels when he comprehended what you’d just said.
“What did I say about behaving?!” Ratchet grabbed you by a gap in your chassis armor.
“I am behaving, I’m staying by you and keeping my panel closed. I'm just flirting.”
“That’s not flirting-! That’s you propositioning him!”
“Well you didn’t say I couldn’t do that either.” Your optics darted back to Perceptor “Or would you want my spike-” Ratchet started shaking you before you could finish what you were saying with your filthy no filter heated processor.
Perceptor reset his vocalizor loudly and cycled his optics. “I am- well aware of the effects a heat can have on a bot- let alone the tribulations the first heat will inflict upon a frame. So I…” Perceptor crossed his arms. “Shall not fault you for the inappropriate outbursts from you that are clearly driven by your heat.”
“Great so knowing I don’t have to feel bad about this- Percy, has anyone ever told your red would look lovely stained pink-?” Ratchet grabbed onto you with his other servo too and shook you harder this time. Perceptor’s optics brightened further and he raised a fist up in front of his own mouth while his optic ridge lightly creased.
When Ratchet stopped shaking you he scoffed pushing you forward. “Walk you overzealous heat ridden turbo fox.” Perceptor nodded at Ratchet and turned to cover the front while you all walked to the lab.
You thankfully did behave and kept your panel closed for the duration of the trip to the lab.
-
“Do you really think this will work?” Hoist muttered staring at the invention they’d made together.
“I mean it’s all we got right now besides handling it the uh- ol' fashioned way.” Wheeljack shrugged “Worth a try, ain’t it?” Really the worst that could happen is it wouldn’t help any, then they’d all just have to go back to the drawing board and think up something else to help you.
The lab door opened and Wheeljack glanced to see you being lead in by Perceptor and Ratchet. They make their way over to Hoist and him as soon as you guys saw ‘em.
“Hey, how ya doing?” Wheeljack smiled at you.
“Like I need to overload.” You bluntly remarked. “At least staring at Perceptor's aft on the way over here was a good distraction.”
Perceptor sounded like he’d choked on his own oral lubricant before he covered his faceplate with his own servo and looked anywhere but you. While Ratcheet looked like he was a nano-klick away from grabbing you and forcibly shorting your vocalizor.
“Well! I have great news then-!” Wheeljack clapped once and held his servos out towards- his new invention in the form of the false spike he had sitting upwards on the table. “Me, Hoist, And Perceptor think you might just need to overload enough times to get your frame to stop thinking it needs to burn out your interface protocols. So we-”
“Mostly Wheeljack-” Perceptor murmured still refusing to meet your gaze- And Wheeljack gets the embarrassment to a degree but c’mon! Being embarrassed about it wasn’t gonna help ya any!
“Yes mostly me designed this- But it’s basically a false spike with some neat extras. It throbs and twitches and even overloads fake lubricant to mimic transfluid.”
“And it’s got it’s own system set up so It will be able to respond and absorb some of the charge you’re putting out in your array because of the heat.” Hoist tacked on at the end.
“Is this why you wanted an immediate portion of the interface lubricant I keep in the medbay? For a frag toy?” Ratchet stared at him and Wheeljack knew it was the “I’m very disappointed in your current thought process and need to weld that fact into you with my optics.” Expression.
“Well, we were still work shopping a name for it but well- ha, that’s basically what it is. It’s just a basic design for a false spike and with one optimal addition for a spike if you wanna also service that at the same- woah-!” Wheeljack stopped short when you pounced directly onto the table on all fours.
“Finally-!” You cursed and your modesty panel snapped back- Your own pre lubricants immediately started cutting slick tracks down your own inner thighs and even dripping right onto the table top. Your spike pressurizing so quickly Wheeljack was wondering how you even kept your panel closed to begin with.
Peceptor sounded like he’d choked on his own glossia this time “G-Good gracious-!”
Ratchet said your designation sharp, “Get off the-!” Ratchet didn’t finish before you got your valve over the spike and Ratchet grunted when the toys head slipped into your hole and you dropped down the toys length fast. “Oh, for the love of-”
“Oh dear-! Not too fast you might hurt yourself!” Hoist tried to caution you, but Wheeljack was stuck staring when your thighs touched the back of your own pedes. Your valve almost flat against the table top and taking almost the entire thing near instantly. When the false spike bottomed out your mouth fell open and your glossia touched your bottom derma- a deep groan that sounded like it probably came out of your spark chamber tumbled out.
Your servos found purchase against the edge of the table and you didn’t waste any time pulling back off the false spike. “Frag- yeah, yeah-!” Wheeljack watched you start bouncing yourself up and back down the toys length, your heavy spike bopping in the open air every jerk back down. So he’s obviously focused enough that he can see the drop of pre lubricant that falls off your spike head and hits the table top to join in making a mess, along with the rest of your fluids.
Your spike- right! “Uh- right the other attachment!” Wheeljack cleared his vocalizor, remembering why they’d done all this in the first place and tries to ignore his own array trying to kick start a charge itself. He pulls the other part of their plan out of his subspace, “Tada! It’s a spike sleeve! And its got some uh- real neat settings.”
You actually whimpered in response “Wheeljack-!” And Wheeljack feels his optics brighten and his finials flash.
“Alright- You don’t gotta beg or nothin’!” Wheeljack closes the distance and tries to put the toy on your throbbing spike- but you just keep bouncing on the false spike! It doesn’t help that you keep preemptively rutting your hips, making him miss- and he ends up dragging teasing frots of the outside of the toy against your spike. You don’t seem to mind the clumsiness- just gasping and cursing from the limited friction on your spike.
“Wheeljack just- here!” A red servo grasps over his own thats around the spike sleeve. Ratchet steadies Wheeljack's servo and Ratchets free servo grabs your hip and tries to still you- Ratchet says your designation with a bitten curse. “Hold still.” Ratchet uses his “no arguments” voice and you actually do sorta listen to him and slow down. You don’t stop but with how you were slamming down on the toy Wheeljack's surprised you were even doing that!
Wheeljack watches as Ratchet helps him line up the sleeve then helps him slide the toy onto your spike- You grunt and then whine when the sleeve registers your spike and immediately tries to milk you for everything you’ve got. Well at least it works-
Wheeljack gasps when you bounce with more force and the toy almost slides right off your spike entirely. Wheeljack forces the sleeve back down your spike so it doesn’t slip off and you groan openly when the sleeve touches your pelvis. Your spike tip peaking out of the other open end of the sleeve teasingly.
“Wheeljack- How exactly is this supposed to stay?” Ratchet asks, this time ready to help Wheeljack to keep you from bucking the sleeve right off the next slide back down the toy spike you take. The sleeve making a sound after being slathered in your spikes pre lubricant.
“Uh- Well…” Wheeljack didn’t really think you’d be this uh- drenched with fluids.
“Wheeljack-!”
“Sorry-! Uh foresight and all that-!” Wheeljack did not need to look to know Ratchet was glaring at him. Which was good because Wheeljack was a little bit caught up watching you. Wheeljack was short enough and with you on the table he can clearly see your stretched valve clench down on the toy and he can also see the false spike throb which only makes you curse.
“Is it open at the end?” Hoist asks and he’s closer- so Wheeljack glances up and sees Hoist peeking over Ratchets pauldron to stare down at the toys and how they were both working your array. His visor just slightly brighter than it usually would be- If they were doing literally anything else Wheeljack would just think it was nothing. But instead Wheeljack can see Hoist's plating twitch when you moan on your next slide back off the toys girth. “I thought we'd decided on a closed model. Won’t that-… make a mess when they overload?”
“It was- A practical design choice for- well” Perceptor's voice is real close to his audial so Wheeljack can only assume he’s leaning over Wheeljack's pauldron to keep the view. “Clean up for the toy mostly- also so the sleeve wont overheat on accident.”
Wheeljack watches your spike tip kiss the back open end of the toy at the mention of it- trying to keep his servo steady so it won’t slide right off. Because if Ratchet weren’t holding his own grip over Wheeljacks- Well... Wheeljack would’ve probably worked to milk your spike at the same pace as your desperate hips were fragging yourself back down the false spike.
Speaking of which the toy actually slips out of your valve on your next slide up and your hips jut making the false spike slide past your aft. “Frag- frag-!” You try and reposition the spike back inside you on the next slide down- and the toy doesn’t catch on your hole and slides against your inner thigh making you whine. “Please- please-! Please-” You start begging and thankfully someone else steps up to help before him. So Wheeljack doesn’t have to feel guilty about being so hot and bothered and also a pervert for trying to get the toy back into your soaked valve.
Hoist was thankfully that pervert instead. “Hold on just-” Hoist rests his modified arm on your knee, the barrel of his attachment almost brushing against Ratchets servo- (which Wheeljack just lately realized was still gripping your hip) Hoist's servo grabs the base of the toy. Than he angles the spike when you lift your hips, your helm instinctively tilting to see the movement between your thighs. The spike head slots between your valve mesh and catches on the rim of your hole.
“Yes- yeah!” You moan loud but the sound still isn’t loud enough to drown out the sound of the toy sinking back into your soaked valve. Hoist grunts when you sink back down fast enough he can’t pull his servo back yet and you end up sitting down right on his palm. Hoist getting a full grip of your aft when the toy runs out of length.
Hoist does pull his servo away ....after three more full drops of your hips anyway. Hoist's gun muzzle was still on your thigh though-
Yeah, Wheeljack’s kinda glad they were taking care of this now. He could only imagine what would’ve happened if they’d left you loose in The Ark like this. Another greedy drag of your hips has the toy bottoming back out in your seemingly insatiable valve yet again. The toy utterly soaked in your own fluids and slick drenching your inner thighs. The mess you’ve made out of the table top and your own valve right here for anyone to see.
Wheeljack can’t exactly stop himself from imaging you bouncing down one of their actual spikes, when he thinks about them not being quick enough to stop you from going off on your horny lonesome. Maybe getting up to it with one of them and it turning into one big frag session for anyone that wanted to join. Wheeljack doesn’t exactly think all the other Autobots would have the same level of will power as them. Though even with that said-
Wheeljack can feel Perceptor's own em field that’s just coaxing against his own frame due to how close they are to each othet right now- and he can blatantly feel the arousal peeking out from it. Wheeljack hears an audible swallow on his side from the other when you moan again. He also hears Perceptor's plating softly clink like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
Ratchet wasn’t glaring at him anymore optics focusing on your over active array- optics flickering from spike to your valve. And maybe he was imaging it, but Wheeljack swears Ratchet’s servo over his own starts speeding up how quickly they were dropping the sleeve down your spike.
Wheeljack’s optics follow Ratchets other servo on your hip to the muzzle of Hoists gun attachment still resting heavy on your thigh. And Wheeljack knows he’s not imagining Hoist’s muzzle trying to follow the rhythm you’d set. His modified arm almost lightly urging you down every time you sank back down the toy.
Yeah... at least Wheeljack’s not the only perv here.
You groan openly and Wheejacks rather abruptly dragged right out of his observations when you still and paw at the table and start overloading unabashedly. Ratchet jerks to the side to avoid getting your transfluid on him. Thick heavy ropes of your transfluid shoot out of the gap in the top of the spike sleeve with every throb of your spike. Pink streaked out onto the floor and on part of the table and- oh yeah the toy’s features!
You bite down on your bottom derma and keen when the false spike registers the overload and throbs, spilling lubricant right into your waiting valve. Lubricant and your valves slick treks out of your hole and onto the table top making an even bigger mess. When your overload stops racking your frame your mouth opens and you start panting rapid vents. The air near your mouth fogging from the heat of your own frame and your glossia dusting your bottom derma. A stray string of drool rolls down your own throat cables. Expression blissed out of it and obviously satisfied.
Wheeljack registers wet on his digit and looks down at the sleeve.
There's a stray string of your transfluid that rolled down your spike tip and down the edge of the sleeve- and down to where Wheeljack's servo was resting. Wheeljack can feel Ratchet's servo twitch over his own when you groan again.
And Ratchet says he wasn’t the responsible kind...
AHHHH I LOVE UR YANDERE TRANSFORMERS ART ITS SOOO YUMMYYY could i plz ask for soundwave but tfp soundwave? I love him dearly.... 🩷🩷 AHHH IF REQUESTS ARENT OPEN YOU CAN IGNORE THIS u probably get tons of requests anyways ^^; (IF THIS HAS ALREADY BEEN DONE FORGET THIS 😭)
Hii anon!! Sure, no dialogue for this one to fit in with his character lol. Because of his quiet nature, one moment you can watch him staring almost motionless at the screen while his digits steadily move across the keyboard.. maybe you became sleepy due to the boredom and next thing you know when you open your eyes, his blank faceplate is staring at you now. And in a very close distance.. hm i don't think he'd emote with his face either most of the time, only times like when he's feeling particulary very infatuated. He will get touchy with his tendrils, petting your head and just prod you gently to feel you </3 he's just so immersed.
(Psspsppsps i have a ko-fi now!! Nothing too important but might mention it here ( ˶°ᗜ°))
Wow, it's been a long time since the last update, why didn't anyone tell me?? (Just kidding). So: a little questionable consent (as if you would read this if you didn't agree, but-). Mind control, hypnosis, cunnilingus, a little orgasm denial.
English is not my native language. 18+
Just watching this, Soundwave feels his spark skip a beat and a warmth wash over his frame. You’re just… perfect. Exactly as he wanted, you brush away the touch of others’ hands from your shoulders, feel uncomfortable at the whispers in your audiosensor filled with crude jokes, and coldly return to the work the Lord has entrusted to you. However, when the first shift ends and the workers slowly relieve one another, you faithfully return to your true friend and patron, allowing his fingers to intertwine imperceptibly with yours and a quiet voice from beneath the mask to whisper praise as sweet as honey.
Oh, his praise…
Thanks to the hypnosis techniques—the results of which Soundwave, for some reason, was in no hurry to share with the Lord—you are indeed more focused. But when Lord Megatron expresses satisfaction with your progress, you don’t feel that special sensation. That feeling of being just right. Every day, until Soundwave himself tells you that you’re doing well, you feel as if you’re breathing incompletely. You’re drawn to communications officer; you’re tactile by nature, but a sudden distrust—and even aversion—toward the other Decepticons has created a void. So every day off, you meet in his or your compartment to simply lie next to each other, just like in the old days.
His hands glide over your frame, down your back, along the curve of your hip, and you don’t push him away like you do the others; instead, you press your cheek closer to his chestplates, paying little attention to the overly loud hum of his internal systems. It’s Wave. Your Wave. He can do many things. Especially since it feels so good… With every overnight stay like this, his hands seem to wander more boldly, testing the limits of what’s allowed. Sometimes Soundwave’s fingers fit perfectly into the seams of your armor, tickling sensitive wiring and even sending a playful jolt through you, making you flinch and slap his shoulder. Although thoughts flashed through your processor for a second about how good those fingers might feel in another place, before you caught those thoughts, remembered that you were pressing your cheek against the telepath, and bashfully hid those perversions in a dark corner of your consciousness. Hoping—praying—that he wouldn’t read that.
But he did.
For Soundwave, this is like a dream come true. He's holding your sleeping frame near to him this moment. The malleability of mind and body, the closeness and openness, your attraction to him in exactly the same degree that his spark and mind have been drawn to you for centuries. And now your thoughts and fantasies have grown bolder, have turned to him… how long will he wait until you are ready and come to him on your own? He even had to force you to stop associating with questionable persons and behave properly. For the best! But still. An eternity will pass before you reach the stage you both crave. He just needs to give you a little nudge, that’s all.
Without a moment’s hesitation, the mech leans in and presses mask against the top of your head. The communicator’s mind gently penetrates yours, sending waves of calm and lulling you even further, like a lullaby created just for you. The telepath blocks the echo of your internal sluggish monologue, creating a veil that feels like something from a strange dream. He lifts himself up, embracing you with both arms, and your sleepy eyes open to suddenly meet Soundwave’s faceplate. Without a mask. You want to say something. You wanted to. Probably. Everything seems surreal, like blurry spots. And in a single second, his lips cover yours.
A shiver runs through your body, and a flower of deja vu blooms in the back of your helmet. Something familiar. And something right. His gloss glides over yours, the feeling that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be envelops you like a warm blanket. There isn’t a single thought in your processor, but it’s full of longing, full of thirst.
The mech pulls back, very reluctantly; he would have preferred to kiss you forever, but he so wants to be sated by everything fate has given him, rewarding him with this gift. His fingers press against your lips, his clear gaze behind the visor meets yours, slightly empty and listless.
“Lick them” — his tone should surprise you. This request should outrage you. And Soundwave won’t admit it, but he’s terrified that nothing will work, that awareness and revulsion for him will appear in your gaze, that you’ll run away, abandon him forever—but the tip of your glossa unquestioningly traced the rough metal of his middle and ring fingers, as if that’s exactly how it was meant to be. His ventilation system abruptly stops working. The sensation of your gloss on his cold metal hand sends a jolt straight to his spark, and Soundwave bites down on his other hand, clenched into a fist.
This is vulgar.
No, this is perfect.
Could this really be true? Primus, you’re beautiful when you do this. Soundwave’s lips press against yours again. He pushes you onto your back with his weight, and both his palms slide beneath you, wrapping around and squeezing aft with his fingers. The moment his hand squeezes your metal there, probing and possessive, the fans sputter. This is forbidden territory. This is the intimacy he could only have secretly dreamed of. And now... now the mech wants more. Much more. Can you pleasure yourself under his control? Can he record a video of your... oh.
Without any distinctive sound, the recording began from his perspective. He ran his fingers over your lips again and then slid them inside your mouth. Not a single movement or sound of protest came from you. Soundwave tests the limits, continuing to probe the depths of this bottomless submission, numbers rapidly flashing across the corner of the screen, counting down the recording time. The camera zooms in on your lips, parted by his fingers, and the smooth metal of your mouth.
“…suck. gently,” he continues to control your mind, not letting you think or react, just filling every inch of your processor with the desire to obey. A good Decepticon follows orders from a superior. And you suck. The camera captures your tongue pressed against his fingers and your lips pursed in an attempt to suck in air, and the communications officer pushes his fingers further in, but pulls back when you cough. Soundwave removes fingers from your mouth to stroke the top of your head. “Good job,little”
Beautiful. You’re so beautiful. The communications officer remembers how one mech at the bar was talking about your faceplate, rating it on a scale, while another drunk jerk was talking about hitting on you on the street—after all, the cops would obviously understand him—it’s hard not to make a move on a drunken night, especially when you’re walking home alone.
Those bastards were reported missing that very evening.
Soundwave gently moved down to your stomach, kissing the metal that shuddered at his touch. The tip of his nose pressed against the warm metal right above your groin plate. Aside from Spark, this is your most intimate spot.
“May I?… Open for me.” Silence, your bewildered gaze, the blue mech’s clenched jaws, and then a soft click as the groin plate slides aside.
Soundwave didn’t immediately lower his gaze between your legs, but the Spark pulses intermittently when he finally sees you there. The camera focuses on the perfect metal, better than in all his fantasies. How many hundreds of years had he spent alone, clenching his dripping spike, trying to imagine you… the tip of a finger pressed against the thin metal, and your legs trembled, clamping down on his hand like a snapping shell. Sensitive. A dark, languid sensation ran through Soundwave’s internal circuits.
“Keep them open.” The mech’s palms help you spread your peds wider while they tremble. Controlling your thoughts when the telepath’s own helmet is in complete disarray is no easy task. But it’s worth it. His hands once again stroke the quivering metal with a touch as soft as a feather. Sensors pick up your pleasant scent as his fingers gather moisture from the valve and press against the thinnest metal between your legs, causing you to shudder anyway, even as you try your hardest to follow the order.
“You must not move,” his voice is stern, just as it was when he scolded you in your younger years, like an older brother: “Keep yourself still, like a statue.” It’s hard for Soundwave not to enjoy this. Not just your obedience, not just the openness he could only dream of, but also your torment.
That’s exactly how I felt. That’s exactly how you made me feel. Suffering from my emotions and unable to move. You were mocking me, and there’s nothing wrong with teaching a little lesson, with giving you a taste of your own medicine.
The camera pulled back so that your entire body fit in the frame. The back of your head pressed against the bed, the heated metal of the faceplate with droplets of condensation, and your misty gaze. The rising and falling chest plates, hiding your essence, your light. Your palms, holding your thighs open, and the wet, hot valve exposed for him to see.
Now Soundwave presses his fingers harder, punishing you with rough touches. Your funny face is just as focused as your fingers, which dig into your thighs as you try to keep your body still. Blue mech strokes haphazardly, rubbing the sensitive spot, sliding his fingers down to gather a little more moisture, and rising higher again. He commits every tremor and every sigh to memory, never taking his eyes off your wet, bitten lips, dreaming of them closing around his spike. He knows he would like that, that nothing in the world compares to the tightness and warmth of your throat, just as he knows that reality will feel even better than he imagines. With these thoughts, his fingers pressed into the thin, sensitive metal even harder, and your pelvis jerked against your will.
The red visor, which he chose not to remove, doesn’t hide the intensity of his burning red optic. He teases you, building up the pace, only to pull his hand away, savoring your pursed lips, and start all over again. He loves you. He’s always loved you. It was impossible not to notice. You’re just playing with him, that’s all. He brought you to the brink again and withdrew his hand, looked up with a smirk, and met your wet, misty gaze. The communicator’s smirk faltered. With a convulsive exhale, he looked again between your legs and at the scratched metal of your thighs. No. He isn’t like those bastards in the bar. There’s nothing in common between them and him. Soundwave’s fingers were replaced by his nose; he reverently kissed your thigh and ran his glossa over the valve.
“You’re doing great, its okay, you can relax.” Soundwave doesn’t mind your thighs clamping around his head and continues to caress you with relish, searching for the movement that makes you shudder the most. He knows many of your sounds by heart and loves them. Your hiccups, your laughter when you shouldn’t be laughing, even your sneezes and squeals of surprise—all of it is recorded and stored deep within his processor. But nothing compares to these rather modest and quiet moans, barely audible sighs mixed with low grunts. They’re better than something loud and erotic. Something intimate and accessible only to him, to his audiosensors. His palms cover yours, and your fingers intertwine as he almost sucks onto you beneath your sweet moans, without slowing down, he moves his glossa in circles and feels you finally clasp his head tighter than before, stretch your legs, and lift your pelvis with one last long, whimpering moan. Charming. The recording ended as silently as it began.
“You did so well.” The telepath’s EM field picks up how, even in a trance, a deep sense of satisfaction from the praise of your best f… no—he interrupted your thoughts—your sparkmate spreads through your body.
One last kiss, deep and wet, before Soundwave found a soft cloth and gently wiped the thick fluid from your thighs, gave the order to close the groin plates, and lay down beside you—not just embracing you, but clinging to you, kissing your temple.
For just a second, the mech thought about how he could now—at least in part—understand others’ craving for power. Giving orders and receiving unconditional loyalty and obedience in return really does feel so damn good
If you liked it, please give it a like or leave a comment – I’d be delighted!!
Ya know I had a thought after reading the Transformers Animated Shockwave and secretary: After reading many of the fanfictions where the Decepticons win and what not, it would be rather pointless for Shockwave to hide his darling spike sleeve hidden from the rest of Cybertron. And much like those other fan fictions, the Decepticons have taken Autobots as their own personal pleasure bots, fragging them either in private or occasionally in public eye.
I’m envisioning Shockwave having his darling spike warmer just sat all snug and full on his lap while either in a meeting with other high ranking Decepticons, reading off reports of the Empire’s progress while his secretary has to stifle their pleas and whimpers in the presence of the others, especially Lord Megatron who totally is using Optimus for something similar
Honestly there are so many depriving ways such a world can go, Shockwave is such a domineering freak of nature
♤𐙚ּ ֶָ֢. ideas: tfa shockwave and his secretary (nsfw) 02
warnings: dub-con. shockwave is a freak. free use. toy usage. size-difference. dumbification. dark-fic. yandere. breeding. exhibitionism. body modifications. humiliation.
prev: 01
hmm i don't rlly fw those typa fics but i see why ppl are into them.
He would be tempted to bring you to a meeting when he sees how they turn into full blown orgies but... Shockwave is possessive. A part of him doesn't want another mech to ever look at you the way he does. Your tight little valve is his and his alone to fill. He can't bare to bring you even if his panels are overheating at the sight of what unfolds! So he might instead, just keep you under the desk like he does at his workstation, your sloppy moans and whines at how he's got you sucking him off while he tries his hardest to not sputter and whine. You're needy and begging for his attention (just how he likes it) solely cause he's got a new toy torturing your array.
But I can't see Shockwave outright using you in a meeting like that. What I can see though, is him trying to fill his needy little secretary when the two of you are alone in his office, hoping no one comes in. And maybe, sometimes a few Cons might have the displeasure of walking into his workstation only to find their boss' spike bulging out of his Autobot's abdominal plating. And you're whimpering, whining, pleading for him to stop knowing there's an audience but your cries are so pathetic it just spurs Shockwave to fuck you even harder and give them on hell of a show as you're utterly humiliated, his praises being cooed out towards you. He lives for your humiliation.
Shockwave would keep you under his desk, your servos holding onto his heavy spike and sucking the tip, struggling to get most of it into your intake. The mech coos, encouraging you to take more and more, which you slowly do and his whole frame heats up because your practically worshipping his spike. Kissing it down its length, twirling your glossa over the small duct by the tip, suckling on the crown while your optics intensely look into his— Its drives him crazy. Especially when he overloads and it splatters across youe face and frame. But he has top preference for your valve, its his favorite part of your frame.
He's so desperate for you... He'll get install the best frame upgrades he can all so you can handle his spike better. So it means you're getting a little bigger but he doesn't mind it, he's still much bigger than you... Plus, the upgrades allow you to take all of his girthy spike as well as enough holding capacity to store all of his transfluids better. Its like he's modified your whole frame so that you can be his cute little fucktoy, the best parts of your frame he loves more accentuated.
He's very obsessive about you. Shockwave was never really 'lucky' with any of his fellow Decepticons. So the mech is all over you. You're his 'lover'. Shockwave loves dressing you up and then taking as many photos of you he can in suggestive poses so that he can keep them all in his memory banks. You're his poster bot. His 'dream' bot. He might even drape you in leather or ropes while completely exposed, array & spark open for him to see while he photographs and records. Other times, he'll ask you to touch yourself to the thought of him and he'd record it, watching keenly until his patience runs thin and he frags you hard in front of the camera.
His favourite thing to do is leave toys inside you so that when he gets home from his work at Cybertron (Decepticon) Intelligence, you'll be ready to take his spike. He also loves to ensure none of his transfluids leak out by plugging you up and forcing you to walk around so uncomfortably. The other Decepticons probably know why you look so heated and uncomfortable, they can see transfluid leaking out a little at the edges of your modesty panel. They'll mock you, or whistle at you. Sometimes, he will bring you to work though. Most days, he does. He'll have you close just to make sure you won't even dream of escaping. Shockwave doesn't want to risk losing you. He's very attached to you, his time on Cybertron had left him very... isolated.
By this point, I'm pretty sure he would've succeeded to break you mentally. You're all over him, throwing yourself at him and being the dumb little bot you are so that he can direct you into any position he wants you in. You're desperate for him and he loves how you worship his spike like its the only thing in the world you exist for. You're just his dumb little spike sleeve! You don't know any better, you exist to entice him. So you better act like it.
Shockwave isn't patient, spike-warming is hard for him! His spike is sensitive... He'll be the first to start moving. The fat tip of his spike penetrates through your tanks and it makes your optics roll back, your back struts against his desk as you helplessly moan. Shockwave's own vents sputtering... Dammit! He can't keep his servos off of you! He'll beg for your forgiveness while wrecking your valve, the full length of his spike snugly wrapped in your valve. That sexy bulge ever so prominent when he looks down at your smaller frame. Oh, it can make him go on forever... He'll empty his tanks into you and his workstation would reek of fhe transfluids dripping down the desk while your frame twitches beneath him, barely online.
You can see how obsessed he is, its in his red optic. It peers into your spark when you look into it. You're his. He'll do anything to keep it that way.
Its not outside of Shockwave's depravity to use aphrosodiacs on you. Keep you all needy for him. Make sure you're so torturously turned on that the lubricant drips down the edge of your modesty panels and you beg him to fill you once he gets back home. Maybe put a toy or two in there, tie you to his berth and then go to work... He wouldn't mind. He might do it as punishment so that you won't ever disobey your new Decepticon master, especially if you're caught touching yourself. But he's softer, you pout or cry or act like the dumb little doll he wants you to be then he'll immediately cave in for you.
Would he consider breeding you? Definitely. The idea makes his fans go turbo. While he wouldn't want to sire any sparklings, he would love the idea of breeding you. He would accidentally spark you up, I feel. With how often he finds his spike filling your tanks, it's inevitable. And it wouldn't be surprising if the two of you end up with a lot more than one. Carrying a Decepticon sparkling is probably tedious for your smaller frame though- But Shockwave probably enjoys watching the changes in your frame, knowing damn well he's the reason for it.
Also... Imagine Shockwave working with you on his lap, squirming as his one servo is busy playing with your valve and the other writing down reports for Megatron. You valve lips being stretched and scissored wide for his spike while you whine for more action as he hums in content, relishing every little noise. His digits circling your exterior node and you're begging him to just spike you down already. *mhmmhmhmhmmm*
At some point, he will make you his Conjux, binding the two of you together forever and he's successfully make sure that the only mech you can ever think of dear secretary, is him.
And once you two become Conjuxes, he's going to try even more things with you.
Like getting more spike mods for himself, trying out a knotted spike mod and he sees how your squirm and cry and whine when the base of his spike stretches your valve so obscenely. It has charge running through your array and might make you overload just once more around his knot. Your optics are dazed & clouded by lust... He loves it. Shockwave would appreciate knots a lot more cause all his transfluid is being stored into your holding tanks without spilling a drop. He can see the bulge by your abdomen and it gets him going every time, your optics bluescreened by then. Breeding you rough and proper is exhausting but its so worth it... He'll insert a plug just to make sure you stay all nice and full for him~♡ He'll nuzzle his helm into the protruding area, affectionately while you pant hard. His digits reverently circling your obscenely stretched valve, pressing onto the base of the plug, making you whine as he gives it a slow push, going a little deeper and your back arching from how overstimulated & sensitive you are. "...beautiful" He'll coo, "You're... haaah... m-made for me, aren't you? You love me, don't you?" He'll say as his free servo cups your face; your enthusiastic nods make his spark sing.
commenters gave me more ideas -> Shockwave would find a way to be able to breed you without sparking you up! Your frame being altered to meet that requirement. That way, he can watch how your frame changes whenever he breeds you without having to deal with you being swollen with his sparklings.
One thing that would really get him intrigued is how with each time he breeds you so rough and thorough, he notices how your frame starts making energon thinking you're expecting a sparkling— Energon pouches enlargening behind your chassis and it entices him— He'll want them bigger & bigger, until its not easy for you to tuck them behind your chassis and the weight makes your backstruts ache. Watching you struggle with it would make his spike instantly harden, espcially if they spilled out from your chassis on accident. Shockwave would seize the oppertunity to play with your pouches, slender digits attacking the little perky nozzles at the end of your pouches. It'd start with him asking if he could have a taste and you'd hesitantly agree... His helm in on your lap in his 'Long Arm' form and you freeze for a moment— But you quickly snap out of it and take off your chassis covering, exposing large round mounds for his view and making him groan. Shockwave would start off just sucking but soon, one of his servos move down to work up your warm modesty panel. He says he's trying to help you, but in all reality, he just wants to milk your pouches... In fact, it even motivated him to transform into Long Arm for once in a long time just so he could drink your sweet energon. You'll be whining and sniffling as 'Long Arm' eventually pins you down to the couch, keeps his spike as deep as possible inside your heat, his intake at one nozzle and a free servo toying, twist, pulling, pinching the other pouch until those sensitive little nozzles are sore. His spike twitches at every little whine & protest and you can feel it, your valve tightening in response. You have no idea what you do to him— His helm is between your pouches almost always, and his servo will slither down to cup your modesty plating.
You're his dumb little doll, sweet & submissive for him. You'll let your Decepticon master do anything, won't you? You're so far gone that you'll nod with a smile while he treats you like a spike sleeve. You're his good bot. And in this Decepticon world, he can flaunt you off. He can tell how jealous the others are that he's got such a handsome/pretty little Autobot wrapped around his digits and he loves knowing it.
You know what doesn’t get talked about enough: TFA Shockwave/Longarm if you were his secretary. Sorry Cliffjumper you have to be replaced for this.
Like think about it: Being Longarm’s assistant who, while working with him, gets to interacting with him. And eventually, though Shockwave did his best, he falls head over pedes for you and soon enough you’re both just fragging in his office. Against his desk, the wall, hell if you’re freaky enough the window.
I can think of two ways it could go when Shockwave is discovered as the spy:
A.) Secretary goes with him and they have interfacing while absolutely fucking up the Autobot Government
Or
B.) Shockwave kidnaps secretary during his escape and keeps them as his frag toy while he’s destroying the Autobot Government.
♤𐙚ּ ֶָ֢. ideas: tfa shockwave and his secretary (nsfw) 01
warnings: dub-con. shockwave is a freak. free use. toy usage. manipulation. corruption. size-difference. dumbification. dark-fic. semi-yandere even?
next: 02
Long Arm, oh Long Arm... I have no idea why Megatron chose fucking Shockwave to be a spy cause he was the most socially awkward mech out there. Even if he can blend in, this mech could not hold back his facial expressions for shit. Like he was fighting for his life, I genuinely think that the Autobots in boot camp were dumb as rocks for not noticing. I also like to think that he learnt being a spy along the way and was never initially related to any covert operations before.
Megatron was like: "Send the best available mech." or something istg
So I do think the mech can be easily seduced, if he fails to keep his emotions in check.
He probably saw you the first time and his spark jumped a little. But he ultimately knows better than to pursue you. Shockwave knows he isn't supposed to fraternize with Autobots in a very personal manner, it could be detrimental to his mission and he almost got caught last time.
But at the same time, he could manipulate you into doing his bidding... use you to cover his tracks more efficiently. He's already wormed his way up to Cybertron Intelligence. Even if he does have a lot of power, the job comes with a lot of responsibility and pressure. Its not easy to pull off the level of espionage he's doing just by himself... And Megatron cuts off the line before Shockwave can ask for some assistance.
He'd probably notice that you have some feelings for him, one way or another. Maybe its the way you bright up when 'Long Arm Prime' enters the room, perhaps its the way his war-tuned processor can detect the way your energy field changes slightly... or maybe its because how you look at him. Either way, the moment he notices is the moment he realizes he has the perfect candidate to manipulate.
You're already always around him, its your duty to be there when he requires you help after all. So he doesn't have to worry about keeping you close... So he starts right off the bat.
Its simple at first; his servo brushes against yours more often, his optics are locked into yours for a moment longer than usual, his touch on your frame lingers. Sometimes, when its just the two of you in the office, you're chatting longer than you're working- He even asks you so very kindly if you could keep him company in his lonesome workstation. As Head of Cybertron Intelligence, he's always so busy. Whenever you see him, he's always in one datapad or the other. So you oblige.
Shockwave manages to get your sympathies, that's always the first step. The next was to convince you that he cared, and that was too easy. Insultingly so. Just be thoughtful enough to hand you a few gifts every now and then or offer to pay up whenever you both stayed up too late and needed energon to refreshen yourselves. And of course, compliments. Then escalate that compliments into flirtation and he had you trapped hook, line & sinker.
Soon enough, he had you bent over his desk like shareware. And you're so needy for it too! How can he deny you? 'Long Arm Prime' has you wrapped around his digits.
Though his intentions were to manipulate you, having a bot at his servos length he could have come to him any moment he needed to relieve his stress was wonderful. He can't deny that. Being Long Arm was stressful. So it wasn't all that uncommon for you to get shoved into a supply closet, get locked in with him inside an empty meeting room, or be under his desk sucking his spike off while he does paperwork...
The interfacing is passionate. To you, its almost like he's a different bot entirely during it. The mask of 'Long Arm Prime' slips a little and Shockwaves carnal desires end up being voiced- rather than what you'd expect an up-standing Autobot like Long Arm to behave like during something like interfacing, Shockwave's true colours shine through instead. He's so much more domineering, nothing like your cheerful but weary boss you greet every morning.
And it doesn't help one bit that his spike is... bigger than you'd think. Purely due to the fact that this was a shape shifted form of himself, its not very easy to change your spike but what would you know about that?
He's pushing you face down roughly, holding onto your hipstruts until his digits bore into your plating. And spiking you down; its rough & fast when he's stressed, else he takes his time with your frame. He's not very sensual per say but he can rile you up nonetheless. There's not much he needs to say when his spike can penetrate into your tank, make your optics roll back and drool.
in fact, he has to calm you down half the time you're taking him. Trying to soothe you while he holds himself back from actually hurting you. "Shh... Shh.. C'mon, y-you're doing well!" His vocalizer trembles a bit from how needy it makes him as well. Your valve is so tight! Shockwave would've stayed in you forever had he been able to. Its like you were made for this, for him.
It makes him want to keep you around when Megatron finally takes over your miserable kind.
Shockwave will lose himself in you, he's not that well-controlled. His voice may slip deeper on accident, almost revealing his real voice but you're too focused on how he's thrusting into you to really notice. These slip ups are common and when you try questioning him afterwards, he gaslights you. Saying that you might've just been seeing things. And it makes you doubt what you saw, you were spike-drunk at that moment... Maybe he is right?
He may have a thing for dumbification because seeing a smart, capable bot like you getting fragged into just babbles and whines turns him on immensely.
When he's about to climax, his frame curls over you and he starts moaning in his true voice, his spike pulsing in your valve as he groans and overloads keep into you. He can see how surprised you feel at the sheer quantity of transfluids that flood your holding tanks. But it makes pulling out all the more fun for him because he gets to see your abused, stretched valve leak out his fluids and it makes his engines purr while you pant heavily. Weakly wiping off the drool from the corner of your face, your stablizers sore. He can see his paint transfers staining your outer array mesh.
Considering Shockwave is a war model, it's no surprise that his stamina far surpasses yours. You always ask him how he's still going when you're optics are already beginning to blue-screen. He just chuckles at your question though, never giving a reply.
As he grows more and more fond of you, accidentally finding himself attached to you, his own sick fantasies start sweeping in. He relishes the power he has over you. At first, interfacing was just a means to making sure you're be palpable to his requests. So that he could trust you. Doing small but significant tasks like erasing the log entry where he went into the records, or distributing his duties away so that Blurr or some other agent could take it up and he'd get time to work on his own mission.
But you never even seem to question why. Why should you? He's Long Arm Prime! You've known him for vorns now and you've even been in his berth.
Speaking of which, as his more sick personal fantasies get in the way, the interfacing between the two of you get a lot more intense. He's tying you up to his berth or restraining you with stasis cuffs in his office. Sometime he'll ask if he could record.
One time, he overloaded deep into you, and while keeping you hips up, making sure none of his transfluid leaves you, he inserted a plug into your valve and all you could do was weakly moan from how he'd fragged you. He laughed a bit at that and he could see how needy, how uncomfortable and embarrassed you looked walking around with his fluids trapped deep in your frame as you walk around the office. The other's think your frame is so heated cause of some sickness.
You frequently excuse yourself, they think you're going to take a small break with how troubled you look but no, you're just trying to make sure that Shockwave's 'Long Arm's transfluids don't leak out of you and make a mess when you're working, you don't want to be humiliated in front of your co-workers like that! He waves at you, greeting you as if he isn't the cause of it and you just avert your optics all embarassed.
How cute.
When he gets you all alone to himself, he can't wait to watch it all leak out of you. It'd be so erotic, the thought ate up his mind the whole day and he couldn't wait to get his servos on you, knowing your valve would be plush and ready for him to take.
You're more than a means to an end now, you're someone he wants, likes, and dare he say it, loves. But you have no idea who he truly is, he finds that thrilling. The way you trust him to do such intimate things with him, to hold so many videos of you in his databanks that he's honestly lost count... Its funny. Its hilarious. You could easily deny him, say no to his perversions but you indulge in them, because you trust him enough.
It honestly makes his spike so painfully hard at the thought of it. He's turned you into a complete slut for him alone. Doing all sorts of debauchery with him. Warming his thick, pulsing spike when its another late night shift instead of working... the way you'd hold onto him tighter at every pulse of his fat spike whenever he slid you down its length, insistent that you take every segment so he could penetrate your tanks better... and the times he'd make you walk around during working hours with a vibrator deep in your valve so that you'd be ready whenever he needed a quick frag. Shockwave might have a thing for corruption.
He can't wait to see how you'll react when you find out who he is and why he's here. But a part of him wants this to keep going.
So when he's discovered to be a spy and manages to escape, the word spreads and naturally, the first bot he's goes to is you.
How will you react?
Unless he's managed to isolate you completely and keep you dependant solely on him, I honestly think it would end up in the B route. Mostly because, just imagine the sheer betrayal you would feel? You can't look at him the same and the mech who's seen you in your most vulnerable wasn't even the mech you loved in the first place. Long Arm was just a stage name at best. Not to mention how vorns of Autobot Propaganda is still ingrained into your processor. You're probably terrified of him.
I doubt he could pull off isolating you and making you dependant on him, he struggled with a few boot camp cadets for a solid minute.
He'd try to reason with you- Tell you how as his secretary, the first bot they'd go after was you. And what would you say? Would you say that you were taking the enemy's spike like a good bot to pay attention? They'd look at you suspiciously too, you helped him in so many little ways. He'd manipulate you into leaving with him. He'd give you the courtesy of being some sort of 'assistant' if Megatron were to ask why he brought you. You'll have some sort of freedom albeit under his supervision.
But, if that fails too, then he's keeping you in his servos whether you like it or not. You're his now. You were playing a dangerous game to start with, trying to seduce the Head of Autobot intelligence. You had it coming as far as Shockwave is concerned. Here, you won't have any freedom at all.
And Shockwave is even more rough and ruthless that he no longer needs to hide himself with you, bye bye Long Arm prime. He'll frag you hard in his true form and its even more difficult for you to take him. He's so much bigger than you. Half his spike has you moaning and crying out so helplessly, your servos failing as you try to hold on to him. Shockwave purrs and coos, trying to calm you down but you'r valve is putting him on a chokehold. It knocks the air out of his vents. Callipers clinging onto him desperately. He had to calm you down to make sure he wouldn't break you while doing this.
It takes a bit of training for you to take more than half of him. His praise all over you, a servo around your abdomen to feel the heaviness of his spike deep inside you, so deep that it bulges- It makes him groan with how needy he feels at the sight of it, preferring to now fuck you hard with your front against his instead of from the back. He much prefers ruining your valve over anything else. By the time he's done emptying his tanks, you're optics are bluescreened, vocalizer glitched out, stabilizers twitching, drooling from your intake, and barely vocal.
You keep him company when he's alone, and he almost always was until you came around. You'll always be his most prized possession. His little Autobot to stuff, fill and use to his sparks content. And it doesn't help how much smaller you are than him. Barely reaching up to his chassis. His entire frame curls over you when you make love, his big single red optic laser focused onto your face as you take everything he wants to give.
He's trained you well, and the isolation is starting to slowly break your mind. Shockwave can see it. You're not resisting his touch, you're leaning into them now. Allowing him to use you and putting on such an erotic performance for him that thinking about it makes him want to frag you into the berth.
Shockwave will train you, and he'll train you well with lots of praise and rewards so that you'll be the perfect frag-toy. The only thought you'd have is of him keeping you full and fucked stupid. He'll take care of you good.
I wouldn't be surprised if he gave you a frame upgrade just to handle him better.
Kinda wondering about that human pet AU with the cybertronians….
Transformers AU ramble (+New reader concept!)
I begin to wonder, like do cybertronians have fashion trends for human pets?
Like I could imagine a few Cybertronians finding it a sort of status symbol of having a “well groomed” human, like I mean in terms of a human’s hair length is indicative of health, or from what a few Cybertronians know about humans, and so it’s trendy for a cybertronian to have a human with long hair that is shiny and healthy.
I also imagine a workaround this trend for humans that don’t like long hair or they are incapable of long hair- or even whatever reason, and those are wedding veils! Or more basically veils with long trains.
I imagine a cybertronian having different colored veils for their humans to wear, whether it relates to the cybertronian’s rank or color palette, or even a cybertronian’s position can be easily determined by their human’s appearance.
I also like to imagine that some more knowledgeable Cybertrons, or any kind of cybertronian, basically do research in order to have proper hair care for their pet human, like how people might research how to care for a poodle or a Yorkshire terrier, kind of like show dogs or just going to a groomer that specializes in human hair care.
Idk, I think it’s more wholesome to think about how a lot of Cybertronians just care for their humans, I just wanna think about wholesome things of giant robots caring for their tiny human companions.
I also thought up a new isekai- Transformers: Prime, yet instead of Lucy! Reader, I was thinking of a Yuren! Reader.
And if you don’t know what a Yuren is, then prepare for a brief explanation:
So Yuren are creatures from Chinese mythology, Yuren means “feathered people” or “feathered person, Yuren are described to have smooth chests, a human head, bird legs and wing arms and from what I remember long tails- or I may confuse them with the miemeng birds-
And if you wonder why the confusion, it is because the concept of the Yuren came about to me by a game character that has a mix of Miemeng bird features and Yuren features: Getian from Reverse: 1999 (for the peeps who don’t know about the game or character- here’s a photo!)
Now I imagine an isekai- (ah yes how original of me-) of Reader basically being a winged humanoid and just a sitting duck since they don’t know how to properly work with their wings and talons until they get caught by some cybertronians.
I imagine characters that are mostly interested in a Yuren! Reader are Soundwave, Starscream, Ratchet, thundercracker, Skyfire, Bumblebee, Skywarp, mostly cybertronians that could either fly or are intrigued by humans etc.
I like to imagine Yuren! Reader basically trying to figure out how to fly and get around since they have bird legs that clutch onto everything that makes them trip or stay in place and the wings replacing their human arms is such a downgrade that they have to depend on someone feeding them.
I lowkey kinda seeing TF:P’s Soundwave mostly taking care of Yuren Reader, the tendrils at the end of his long pipe-like appendages make him excellent in preening Yuren! Reader’s wings and feathers.
I also like bird people and the concept of flying alongside some of the cybertronians almost like a falcon or a bird companion. I giggle at a rowdy Yuren! Reader flapping their wings and bobbing their heads to music like an actual bird. lol-
I second a pt2 of Tease, yes, please! But more Autobots, please 🙏🏽 🙏🏽 🙏🏽 Cons are good too but just. Love the guilt but still refusing to stop what they're doing. Also, have you ever considered yandere Mirage? He feels like an obvious choice considering his abilities 💕
Yeah! a couple of you wanted more Autobots. Still doing the cons version of this, just this one got started sooner so I finished it first. And I made Mirage extra guilty for you nonnie. Almost overwhelming lust and desire how I adore writing you.
"Tease" pt2 GN BOT Reader x [Yandere/Obsessed] Sunstreaker, Mirage, Hound, Skyfire, Jazz
Summary: The bots snap. Or BOT Reader gets their valve pounded.
Genre/Theme: Yandere Smut 🔞 MDNI
G1 Characters: Sunstreaker, Mirage, Hound, Skyfire, Jazz
Notes: Reader wants to frag but thought it would be more fun to tease the bots while playing coy. The bots don't know this, however, hence the CNC instead of NC or Dubious consent because they think its full NC from their perspective, Jazz is the only one who gets consent here (After he starts grabbing though), Reader is specifically described as smaller than Skyfire (But even Optimus is half Skyfires size so y’know). Spike and valve terms used.
Sunstreaker’s sparkdamn digits are twitching and he’s clenching his fists hard enough to ache when his need of waiting for you to get with the program already hits a peak.
His maintenance and polishing efforts both came with the reward of your frame looking even better than before- Of course it did-! Sunstreaker knew what he was doing! But he didn’t think that would also come coupled together with his processor taking even more notice of you and your frame. And how you’d move, talk, and look that good like that, while still fragging not getting the obvious hints that Sunstreaker needed wanted you-!
He thinks he might just grab you the next time he sees you alone and drag you right back to his habsuite and show you exactly how lucky you were.
Sunstreaker can feel his sparkdamn engine running hot enough it's audible as he stomps his way to the washracks after the battle. The thrill of the fight still pumping in his fuel lines and from being slagged off over the sparkdamm decpticreeps ruining his finish with mud!
He barges into the empty wash racks and is so mad he just picked a rack in the back. And he scrubs and scrubs. He Ignores whoever decided to turn on the shower right next to him. He's clean of the outer layer of muck and his paint was-
He jerks when a low groan of pleasure comes from right next to him.
And he looks right at you.
You sigh in obvious enjoyment and let the solvents spray over yourself- solvents covering and rolling down the gaps of your frame-
Sunstreaker’s battle mode switches on and it’s a blur of tight servos and sudden grappling and he's eventually got you pinned against one of the walls. Hot solvents running down the both of you. One of your legs had ended up over his pauldron during the scuffle- Fight him for it- whatever! Sunstreaker was done waiting!
He doesn't remember ripping your modesty panel open, or his digits in your valve, but he does remember bottoming out inside you almost immediately. Digits clamped firm around the dips in your hips as he curses while your valve flutters around him. Your digits digging into his own frame tight enough it aches isn’t enough to stop Sunstreaker from picking an unforgiving pace.
You could only cry out when he started slamming himself back inside you again and again. Primus, you shouldn’t feel this good-! Your valve squeezes down on him and Sunstreaker grits his denta and grabs your jaw before yanking your mouth against his own. Your denta knock against his own and it stings, but not nearly as much as your digits do. His glossia presses against your own trying to get everything out of you he can- every sound, every gasp, every nip of your denta. You bite him back roughly and he tastes his own energon. His engine revs hard enough his entire chassis vibrates against your own.
You whine against him when he suddenly stops on his next trip bottoming out to grind his pelvis against your own- your pede almost slips out underneath yourself on the solvent still running over the both of you. So Sunstreaker just grabs your thigh and hefts your other leg up in his grip. Your dermas break apart and your back slides against the wall with a harsher sound of your metal against it. You curse and scramble for a better hold onto his frame at the complete weight shift- And the solvent makes you both go slipping and falling against one another against and down the wall.
Sunstreaker’s knees hit the ground and you hiss in a vent but Sunstreaker just pushes forward to press you fully back against the wall he has you trapped against.
Your pedes are almost to your pauldrons the way he’s forcing you to bend and you say his designation-! Sunstreaker doesn’t wait to hear what you might have said- too worried about more important things. Like how your valve is even wetter than before while taking his spike and how good you sound moaning his designation. His hips snap, picking right back up to his original pace- making you say his designation over and over, while your frames ground against each other with each thrust. Sunstreaker knew your paints were rubbing on him- That his yellow was bleeding right into your own colors-!
And Sunstreaker suddenly doesn’t think he’s going to let you buff it out afterwards.
Mark you-! Make it clear who was fragging you senseless enough that your paints were mixing together in an uncoordinated mess. Mixing together sloppy like how your lubricant is mixing with his own-! Slipping down his own array and frame every time he bottomed back out inside you. Your expression a filthy fragging sight, when you looked like you were obviously about to overload right on his spike. Sunstreaker growls at the image and rushes forward to lock you into another smothering kiss. He swallows down the muffled groan out of you when one of his servos finds your spike and he jerks you off rapidly as his pace turns uncoordinated.
His overload hits him so hard Sunstreaker feels like one of his spark plugs might’ve just popped loose. At least it feels like it when his engines practically roaring in his own audials. You bite down on him and fold against him while your spike throbs in his servo. And Sunstreaker wants to fragging drown you in his em field when yours finally starts pushing back against his own.
When he breaks the kiss you’re both venting harsh and Sunstreaker can already see his yellow streaked against your chassis. Your own colors marking him just the same.
Any ounce of the pristine effort Sunstreaker had busted his aft to ensure of your paint job was practically an after thought now. The solvent makes some of your own transfuild start running down your frame and your twitching spike. Expression thoroughly fragged out of it and you looked like you were struggling to even think.
You’re a fragging mess.
Sunstreaker actually feels his engine start to purr at the sight of you. Of what he fragging did to you.
And Sunstreaker suddenly thinks he hasn’t ruined your paint job nearly enough for as long as you’ve been making him work for this.
You saying his designation so out of it, only makes his spark jump in excitement and his spike to throb inside you. You grunt and Sunstreaker just gets a proper grip back onto your frame so he can bottom right back out inside you again. You clawing the paint right off his sides with a grunt only makes him more heated.
Sunstreaker wasn’t going to stop until he knew his yellow wasn’t going to be coming out of your frame without a serious repaint!
(Now Mirage might be later in this list but unfortunately it turns out he cannot keep himself out of your habsuite.)
Mirage knows very well he shouldn't be doing this. Mirage isn't some- filthy pervert-! He's just... worried! Concerned! You've been so- tantalizing as of late, Mirage knows very well some of the other mechs in The Ark could possibly take advantage of you! He's simply checking in on you.
And he's certainly right to do so, because you'd left the door to your habsuite unlocked. Completely and utterly up for anybody on The Ark to walk in and snoop. Or take something of yours- and if you were here when that happened, then what could they have done to you!? It's good he can stop it. Good he can prevent anyone from getting any dastardly ideas or anything else of the sort.
But then you return before he can make his own exit and you do at least lock the door behind yourself… Which locked him in with you.
Mirage didn't allow himself to... shadow you like this with his outlier ability activated very often. (Because he's not some dastard degenerate!) But he's here… and so are you and he can't exactly leave now without you noticing.
So instead he watches you sit on your berth and Mirage waits.
He can't exactly do much else now can he-
Mirage almost gives himself away then and there when you abruptly snap your modesty panel back.
Your array is- active already. Very active.
Your own spike pressurizing is enough to make you audibly sigh in relief. Mirage swallows so loudly at the sight he's genuinely shocked you didn’t realize he was there. You do look in his direction- but after a few astroseconds you dismiss it, not seeing a thing out of place. Mirage preemptively puts his own servo over his faceplate in case he cannot stop himself soon enough again. His optics running over the detailing on your array- (And maybe- maybe he ends up unconsciously moving closer.)
So Mirage watches you shuffle through your things and- almost gives himself away again when you pull out a false spike. Then he watches you spread your thighs apart and line the toys tip up with your valve.
Mirage has to smother down the sound begging for exit at his intake when you take the toy down to base in one go.
Primus-!
Your valve continues to take the toy every single time you’d push it back inside yourself. Mesh and hole obediently accommodating to take it down to base every single time. The obscene amount of lubricant you were producing made the task look laughably easy. His array was already waking up when you pulled your panel back- now his own thighs are twitching inward over the amount of charge steadily building the longer he watches you desecrate yourself.
Mirage’s own array is throbbing behind his panelby the time you're panting. Languidly thrusting the toy in and out of your own hole, completely unaware of what you were doing to him.
You eventually pull the false spike out- lubricant all over the thing and your own valve mesh. Valve fluttering over nothing for a klick- utterly empty (but practically begging for spike-!). You instead roll onto your side to focus on your spike with your free servo moving to start stroking over your frame sensually.
Mirage’s optics unwillingly zero in onto the back of your valve- inner thighs practically soaked in your own valve lubricant.
Mirage swallows again-
And he suddenly finds he cannot stop his frame from acting on its own.
Mirage had- Mirage had gotten behind you on your own berth, settling on his own side- before burying himself against the back of your frame and pressing a servo over your mouth in one motion. You jolted in surprise, his other servo hooking underneath your knee juncture and pushing it upwards.
A muffled sound of utter shock hums against his palm when he pushes his spike into your waiting valve. Replacing the false spike just as easily.
He doesn’t even hesitate before he starts thrusting proper.
This is wrong- this is wrong-! Mirage was better than this! He's so much better than this. But- you squeezing down on him further only makes him pick up his tempo. You- you're so pent up that you were dripping your own pre lubricants on the inside of your own modesty panel! You hadn't even touched yourself before any of that activity had taken place in your array. You were desperate, bucking against the inadequate interface toy and your own servos.
Mirage was just- you just needed some assistance-! That's all this was! (Mirage unfortunately can't delude himself enough into genuinely believing the fabrication.) You were barely struggling against him-! Instead taking his spike everytime. You feel perfect-!
Making all that muffled noise behind his servo- He desperately wants to pull it away to hear you. Hear what sounds you make for him when his spike bottoms out in you so roughly. But he's also terrified of what you may very well say. Mirage doesn't believe he'd be able to control himself enough to actually stop if you'd asked him to right now-!
Mirage’s digit pads squeeze tighter against the under of your thigh he still has hiked upwards, and he starts snapping his hips quicker. Your valve aroused enough- you're aroused enough, that it takes his harsher treatment with no protests. (Protests no doubt on your glossia instead. Mirage knows they're there- he knows-!)
A muffled noise sounds out of your throat when Mirage must strike your ceiling node on his next thrust forward. And Mirage can’t stop himself from hoisting your thigh further upwards and burying his frame closer against your back. Almost as if he can somehow get even closer to you then before.
Your digits dig into his arm unforgivably tight. But still he only huffs and gasps; your designation tumbling out of his mouth.
Mirage doesn't bother trying to restrain himself to stay silent anymore- why would he!? You wouldn't think the invisible mech spiking you unforgivably from behind could possibly be anybody other than himself! Your noises keep catching against his servo and picking up to the point every jump of his hips forces another sound out of you. His invisibility flicks off and he becomes tangible again when you claw some of his paint right off of his gauntlet.
Your valve squeezes down on him and you overload with a sharp muffled cry, spike spilling transfluid onto your own berth. Your spinal strut arching (away from him-), and your plating clamps down on itself. Your grip on his arm might have your entire servo print dented into it at this point-! Mirage wants to know-needs to know what you sound like- but he can't face what he's done yet-! (What he's still doing-!)
So instead he drags you back closer against his chassis and makes sure his servo won't slip away from your mouth before he starts bucking into you with a wild abandon. Each rough meeting of your aft with his pelvis makes you only louder behind his palm. You’re so aroused from just both your lubricants it sounds as if he’d already overloaded inside you!
Mirage grits his denta together harshly, before bottoming out and keeping his hold on you tight. His overload washes over him hard enough his audials are left ringing. Each pump of his spike spilling more of his transfluid into you. You’re left making repeated sounds against him while he overloads inside of you- Valve squeezing down on him periodically, which he knows only makes his transfliud slip deeper inside your valve! Mirage has to abort a whine when it escapes his intake at the thought- so loud and disgraceful it makes his plating tighten back down on itself in mortification.
By the time he relaxes again he's left venting and your valves throbbing around his spike. He finally forces his servo to pull away from your mouth and you gasp in greedy vents. The air fogging from the heat of it, and your optics so so bright. Mirage can feel his spike throb inside you when his designation falls out of your disheveled self and his hips end up bucking up instinctively once more. You grunt and curse and squeeze down on him- and Mirage decides if he's going to face what he's done regardless, he's not going to stop at the single round-!
There wasn't a reason to try and control himself now was there-? He's already ruined everything! Mirage might as well enjoy you while he still can-! His designation falling out of your derma again when Mirage moves only makes him thrust harder after. You latch your servos back onto him tight and moan- which sends another hot volt of charge right into his array.
Mirage still needed to hear your voice while you were overloading on his spike.
Mirage was going to satisfy your frame enough that you won’t be walking around The Ark with your array begging for satisfaction ever again.
Hound doesn’t know if he can keep himself together for much longer. After he'd stolen your cleaning cloth he'd used it day after day till your scent wore out of it. Eventually he managed to look you in the optics again. And Hound was faced by the fact that something was very wrong with him in regards to you. Every touch, glance, and brush of your frame by his own had heat building in his array near immediately in response to it. It was like every little movement of your frame was suddenly provocative.
Hound knows he shouldn't have indulged in your dirty cleaning cloth! The perverted fantasies had only made him worse!
You're both doing some basic inventory sorting together on the ark. (Hound already fighting to continue to be normal while alone with you.). Then the extra gear shift you're holding slips out of your servo and goes rolling right underneath a panel gap in one of the Arks walls. You curse and go after it, Hound watches you go before he looks down to type what he needs to on the datapad wondering if he should offer to help or not.
Hound glances up at you and almost drops the datapad right onto the floor.
You had gotten on your knees and servos to try and get the small equipment out of where it had rolled. Your aft up in the air and modesty panel visible to Hound. You back up about your arms length away from the wall and drop your helm- obviously trying to see where it had gone. But all Hound can see is the gap where the manual release on your modesty panel is.
Hound wordlessly puts the datapad down and walks over, getting on his own knees behind you- because Hound was going to help you get the gear shift-!
But next thing Hound knows he had grasped your hips from behind and dragged you backwards. Yanking your manual release and spiking you right there in the inventory room. You felt so good around him he also couldn’t help the way his hips rut sharply.
Now Hound's got his helm buried against your back or neck cables. (or leaning over you if he's that much bigger than you) But regardless his servos are latched onto your hips. Hound’s huffing and puffing against your metal. His own vents so heated from the burning warmth in his frame- your metals now got condensation fogging where he's against. It drips down your frame and you’re gasping and huffing. His spike almost bottoming out. His spike modification preventing him from being fully inside of you-! Primus he's loosing it! He can't help it-! Please please be okay taking it- taking him-!
When his modification hits the mesh of your valve again Hound yanks you backwards with a muttered repeated gasps of "Sorry-!” when he hears the noise of shock out of you. But his knot gets half way through and then slides the rest of the way in with a quick pop. His pelvis bumps into the back of your aft and Hound bites down on you. Hound groans so loud he's sure you can feel the sound vibrate against where he's sinking his denta into you. You shudder and Hound can feel your knees wanna start sliding but his knot catches slightly on your hole. It starts pulling out of you-!
Hound pulls back, his knot catching lightly on your hole but it still pops out when Hound jerks. You're huffing and the plating on your back plates are shuffling up.
Hound relaxed his jaw and he laps a greedy strip along the condensation he'd built up on your metal. Hound can't help the moan that spills out of him while he's tasting you and huffing in your own natural scent.
You grunt and suck in a sharp vent, when Hound forcibly pushes his knot back into you again. And Hound doesn't stop his practically abusing of your hole. He’s sorry-! He’s so sorry! The apologies die in his own throat when he groans over how good you feel. He wants to stop-! (He doesn’t.) He swears! He swears-!
A strangled noise escaping you only had Hound slamming into you quicker- Hound popping his knot back into your valve easier and easier every time he pushed and pulled it back out of you in between his hurried thrusts. The sloppy sound of your valve taking his knot again and again- His pelvis starts smacking against your aft audibly in his hurried thrusts.
Primus-!
Hound keeps muttering your designation again and again; the sound practically falling out of his mouth every push and pull of his knot. He can’t stop-! He can’t.
Hound then pulled up from where he was nestled flat against your back. Because he needs a better leverage angle!
Hound frame leers over your own and he grips his digits between the gap between your pelvis and your thigh armor. You groaned loudly in response to the sensitive wires and seams being bumped by the tips of his digits-! He needs more of you-! Hound bottoms out one last time, knot slipping inside you, and Hound ends up overloading the hardest he has in vorns. His mouth falls open and a long drawn out groan that makes his spark hum loud, falls out of it. His knot throbs along with his spike- having inflated and promptly locking his spike inside you.
By the time his knot deflates after a few klicks, your face is in your own gauntlets by the ground.
You’re both panting and both of your platings shuddering almost audibly. Hound bites his bottom derma but that still doesn't end up muffling his moan when he pulls out of you. A raspy sharp noise sounds out of you when his knot pulls your hole open again. But your valve finally let's go with a wet pop, the rest of his spike sliding out along with.
Hound straightens his back out so he's not leaning over you finally and he catches sight of your soaking wet valve that's now spilling his transfluid out onto the floor. Your spent spikes still twitching under you. Your own transfluid from your spike ends up getting muddled together with Hound's own when it keeps spilling out of you.
Hound whines and his spike twitches in interest again.
He just- Hound needed just another round or two to make sure his modesty panel will close correctly. Hound can see your own spike is still hard and ready to go. And Hound couldn't simply leave you like this-!
Hound Lined himself back up and gasped when he slid his spike back home- you’re clawing and flexing against the ground at the treatment.
Hound can’t help the way his engine revs when you say his designation like that. Nor can he stop himself from rutting forward with more vigor.
It’s an arduous and near impossible task for Skyfire to end up surviving this long but he does.
He does his job- he flys, he transports- he does his occasional experiments. And he just knows something bad may just end up happening (That he might do something horrible-!).
Skyfire- Skyfire didn’t know what was wrong with himself and his growing- obsession with you. Every glance, every move, every shift of your plating had Skyfire fighting to act properly! It had gotten to the point Skyfire even had Perceptor examine him and nothing came back amiss. Nothing.
But nothing wasn’t what was driving his digits to twitch and his thoughts to wander so wildly- so dirty-! It was you and Skyfire knows he can’t blame you- (You didn’t know. You didn’t know!)
He’s in the lab- trying to research earth marine mammals because of something Chip had said that sparked his interest. And you come in, ask him where something was- (he can’t even recall what it was initially!). But it was on one of the top storage shelves lining the wall. Skyfire doesn’t even allow himself to turn around and face you when informing you where it was.
But he can’t help snapping his helm in your direction when you ask for his help.
The item was just barely out of your reach. So Skyfire clenches his servos and walks over. You stay in your place directly under the item and Skyfire simply got slightly closer. And he reached-
His optics snap downwards when your em field drags warmly over his front due to proximity. You’re staring up at him watching, waiting-. Your frame close enough Skyfire can feel you regardless of the lack of direct contact.
And then Skyfire does something horrible.
Skyfire’s servo abandons the item back in place on it’s shelf.
And instead his servos fly onto your frame instead. You gasp at his sudden touch and say his designation in confusion. And Skyfire can’t stop himself- he can’t- he can’t-!
He’d found your manual release on your array (His digits almost too large to even catch onto it correctly-!) and pulled it and-
Now Skyfire’s here apologizing.
He’s cooing, and his em field is brushing down the ruffled up plating on your frame. And now almost half his spike is sitting heavy inside your poor valve! You weren’t even his size class-! Oh, Primus, why did he do this-!? A shaky moan tumbles out of your mouth and his plating quivers. His spike throbs inside you when you make an almost sinful sound and Skyfire can feel the more coherent part of his processor forcibly shutting down.
So Skyfire swallows down the lump in his throat because you’re so sweet-! You sound so sweet. You feel fantastic! His servos on your hips squeeze for some type of tether. Tether to keep him here and not lose himself in the sensation- in the sensation of you and force you to take even more of his feelings for you-!
Your em field presses back against his own and you whine. He can spot your own now pressurized spike starting to bead pre lubricant-
And you’re cute and perfect-!
Skyfire tries and fails to bite back a whine of his own all before he pushes forward again. Your spinal strut arches further and a sharp sound of alarm comes from you. Your servos scrambling- One finds its hold on one of the shelves, the other gripping his wrist tight enough your digit pads would certainly be left behind. (He wants that-! Skyfire wants that so badly. Skyfire needs to be marked as yours!) Half his spike does slide into your valve and Skyfire forces his hips to stop. He didn’t want to hurt you! Didn’t-
You unsteadily manage to stutter out his designation. And his optics snap wide and again he can’t- he can’t-! “I’m sorry-! I’m sorry-!” His hips pull back and his spike forces you back open yet again- and Skyfire is still a slave to his terrible desires so he doesn’t stop once he starts.
At some point, the apologies falling out of his mouth end up becoming praise. “So good! Doing such a good job!” You're being too good for him-! Taking his spike and all his overwhelming affections without any complaints-!
You’re left taking everything Skyfire is forcing on you- his em field trying to make up for every rough bounce. His servos squeezing and threatening to mark you back with his own prints. His indefeasible apologies- And his spike sliding back into your valve and smacking up against your deeper pleasure nodes. Skyfire can tell when your frame flexes in his grip and you choke on your own voice. You’re taking him so well-!
You’re gasping and mewling at this point, clenching down on him to no avail, Skyfire still just forcibly dragging you backwards to meet his own relentless pace. Skyfire’s helm is foggy and he bites down on his bottom derma so he doesn’t get any louder-! He still keens when you groan richly as his spike hits what must be your ceiling node the right way. Your valves a mess of his and your own pre lubricants and you’re saying his designation and begging-!
Skyfire grits his denta and grips your waist firm enough he knows he’s marked you and slams himself inside you in quick desperate bucks- and Skyfire groans loudly when he overloads. You follow right after him squirming in his hold and squeezing down on him- And Skyfire may overheat-!
By the time his overload finishes Skyfire finally slacks and pants in heavy deep vents. You’re quivering slightly in his grasp and your transfluid is splattered all over one of the shelf’s and the contents on it. While his own is spilling down his and your thighs and dripping onto the ground-! Skyfire has to pull out of you- But he’s a touch busy murmuring apologies while trying to soothe the dents he’d left on your waist. Even though the urge to continue bouncing you up and down his spike wasn’t diminished in the slightest. The small used sounded out of you only make him feel even worse-
But it’s not only shame that builds back up inside himself under the sight of your disheveled state.
He still vents deep before forcing himself to start pulling back out of you- You keen and flex in his grip when his spike slowly drags back out along your pleasure nodes and overworked valve. You groan somwhere deep from your frame- and Skyfire has to bolt himself in place so he doesn’t end up forcing you to take the entirely of his spike in one forceful push back forward.
Forget harming you, he may just out right break you if he does that-!
The filthy thought of staying buried inside you long enough your valve adjusts to only be satisfied with his spike has his thighs tighten down so he doesn’t even entertain the perverted thought.
However Skyfire’s spike sinking a fraction deeper into you with his transfluid acting as extra lubricant certainly doesn't help him in fighting that urge any.
(On the flip side heres a mech that actually makes it to top five on keeping themselves together in the face of this particular advisory.)
There’s running on fumes and running on empty when it comes to missions. And right now Jazz felt like he was running on empty. Well not empty- but what he was running on wasn’t helping what he very very much needed to avoid thinking of- avoid doing. Maybe it was his little video he’d taken of you, His new prized possession of you taking care of your sweet self in that little hide away of The Arks hallway.
But after it Jazz starts noticing all sorts of things about ya- like the way your plating would ease when you thought no one was looking (Showing off seams begging to be touched-). The way your servo would drag when you touched him like you were second guessing if you even wanted to let him go (baby, don’t think about it- Touch him properly finally and he’ll never let you think about it again.)
It gets to the point Jazz starts thinking you might even be goading him on purpose.
But Jazz knows his strengths and weaknesses and he knows you’re his biggest weakness. He can’t let it cloud his judgments and ruin the relationship he even had with you now. So Jazz fists his servos and forces his struts to lock in place when he notices how good you look and how close you happened to be- And he instead records through his visor. And now he’s been combining the videos he has saved with the audio of you overloading in the hallway thinking you were alone. It helps a bit, but he can feel whats gripping his spark only windin’ tighter and tighter-
His spark finally pops free of the iron grip he’d had on it the entire time when he’s in your habsuite- You invited him when he mentioned he had a couple new tunes he really liked- and could show you if you wanted. You had a make shift couch made outta concrete in front of a short table in there and you were sitting by him- close enough Jazz could feel your em field curiously ghosting against the edge of his own- and Jazz already knows he’s playing a dangerous game.
And then you stand and bent over the short table to grab the cube you’d left over by a shelf across before you’d both settled in- And Jazz is greeted to your aft almost directly in his face. He can’t just see your modesty panel, he can see the lining of your modesty panel.
But what makes his spark finally slam free is your leg shifting just a bit so you can reach your cube properly. And your pede and leg end up pressing up against the side of his own. And its like a volt of energy shoots right up his leg and into his processor before he can even realize what’s happening.
And his servos snap out and grab to yank you until you re falling back and in his lap and against his front- and his digits are digging into your manual release- Jazz manages to barely get enough of himself back under control to ask if this was fine when his digit pads were already pressed firm into the detail of your manual release- (Baby please be okay- please be okay with him wanting ya-!).
Jazz actually getting that consent from you before he ruins the entire operation only makes his own panel snap back before he even finishes getting yours open. Because Sparkdamn you want him- you want him! You want him-! His spark feels like its about to burn a hole in his chassis when he gets his digits inside of you. You letting him touch you- You letting him just do this had his array dripping with pre lubricants. Jazz turns his audials as high as they can go so he hears every little even slight sound out of ya- And all it takes is one proper saying of his designation and he’s pulling his digits out and biting down his bottom derma.
You get your own thighs under yourself and Jazz grips your hips to guide his array to slot up with yours right- And Jazz groans when you let him drag you downwards to bottom out inside of ya. Primus, baby, you two haven’t even started and you already got him feeling like he’s gonna offline here. Jazz’s imagination ain’t nothing compared to how you feel taking his spike just right.
You actually end up taking initiative before he can- just an astrosecond quicker though. You pull upwards on your own thighs and Jazz ends up bucking upwards halfway through the process- making him bottom back out quick. Jazz moans when you squeeze down on him. “Doing- Doing great sweetspark.” You were already scrambling his systems real easy like. Jazz runs his optics over your back plating making sure to get a good look at everything so his recording of this would be remembered in more than just his fragging struts.
Jazz is meeting every bounce of your hips as well as he can anyway based on your position. The gravity pulling your pelvis back down. Every hot slide back up his spike almost as urging as Jazz’s own servos. Digits digging into the armor of your hips- trying to get a better leverage to have you taking more of him faster- The tempo dissolves into a needy and hurried one. Quick but it’s still not enough for him- Not enough to quiet the demanding want that’s been bubbling up under his plating for who knows how long.
Your lubricant from you sitting in his lap is rolling down jazz’s own thighs- His own valve slick rolling down to join it where its staining his inner thighs. You still take him sweet- almost as sweet as your sounds. Delicious but also still what Jazz would label as controlled. And that just wasn’t gonna fly for him- especially right now.
Jazz needed more from ya baby!
Jazz ends up hooking his servos under your thighs before he all but shoves you forward and you curse and land on your short table on your gauntlets- aft up and asking him what the pit that was over your pauldron.
All before Jazz follows after you, grabbing you by your hips and buries his spike back down to base into your valve from behind. And Jazz starts putting everything he’s had for ya kept under wraps right into pounding you. You curse when his impatient pace has you scrambling to grab the edge of the table for stability. And it helps- You squeezing down on him- being deeper inside of ya and being able to make you louder if he thrusts the right way. Primus, Jazz’s own point of view is making him feel like he’s pounding till you won’t forget him. So maybe you’d remember this just as easy even if you didn’t have your own recording of it.
You’re valves hot and treating him just right- But Jazz still needed you better. He knew he could get you louder! He knew-!
One of Jazz’s pedes thunks up on the table besides you and Jazz uses it as better leverage to bury his spike even deeper into you. You almost howl when Jazz does it- Frame flexing underneath him and valve squeezing down in him in delight. And Jazz grins while his engine revs loud- because that’s what he needs-! That’s what he needs from ya baby! His next vent is so heavy and heated it has his chassis shaking a bit when it leaves him all before he keeps pounding right into you.
Jazz can practically feel himself slamming into your celiing node on his thrusts back inside you and his sparks slamming into his spark chamber every time along with it. Or maybe that’s the sound of your table rocking every time he bottoms back out inside ya. But you sound so good taking him like this Jazz just keeps going. You were too good to him-! Taking him so good-!
His rhythm degrading quick when you just start saying his designation like that again and again-! Jazz’s servo ends up latching onto your upper frame as he thrusts start getting sloppy. Jazz overloads and he can’t stop slamming into ya- But by the way your gasping only makes him glad he’s fragging you through it. His own servo reaching around and finding your spike to milk through it too makes Jazz think he might have to have the sound you make in response grafted right into his main frame.
His hips slow eventually and Jazz feels like he’s gonna slip down somewhere deep in his own data banks and maybe not come out of it. Your holes a mess of his transfluid- spilling down and on your table from his own enthusiasm. His own frame very uppity on the fact he’d just put that much effort into railing you into your own table. HUD giving him warnings about turning his own fans higher and Jazz just laughs huffy. He turns them higher and watches your own servos twitch against the tables edge you’re still gripping like a lifeline.
Then Jazz almost completely pulls out of you- making sure to focus in on your valve still fluttering around him. And how more of his transfluid starts spilling out of your valve. Your own spike twitching beneath you heavy, pressing against your only table and the small puddle of transfluid there. Before he slides back home with a purpose. Loving the way you sound for him when he does it.
Jazz had a good- ah, he didn’t know- a couple gigs of data worth of recording space open in his saved recordings slots. And baby he’s so sparkdamn happy you’re willing to help him fill them.
Divider credits: @/cafekitsune,
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