Would my master like a free transformers smut fanfiction of your request?
I ask for nothing in return other than your preference of what you would like and who to write about.
Have a wonderful day/night,
Sincerely, bored anon
a treat!!! for me!!? oh thank you!! you don't have to feel pressured to write anything you dont want to, but i would enjoy maybe some stuff with humiliation and some bdsm if you feel up to it!
minirod(bottom mins), or maybe dratchrod(bottom roddy) would be appreciated for mtmte, if youre more into tfa, prowlbee(bottom bee) or optiratch(bottom op) would be fun, and if youd like to just play around with some g1, starop(bottom op)??
Dratchrod bsdm/ humiliation smut fic, for @archie-sunshine
Hi Archie-sunshine! Just wanted to say I’m honored to have the opportunity to write a fanfic for someone! I don’t write stuff like this often so I’m pretty out of practice, but I hope you like it!
(I think i found out i like bullying Rodimus (sexually of course))
———————
A loud whine escaped Rodimus’s vocalizer, optics watery and stinging as he shuddered out shaky vents, steam billowing from his vents as he dragged his glossa under Drift’s spike. The head bumped the back of his intake, a choked whine escaping as he tried to wriggle free, but Drift’s tight grip on Rodimus’s helm kept him trapped. Not to mention Ratchet spiking him from behind as the speedster kneeled on the floor, each thrust forcing him back onto Drift‘s spike over and over again. Escaping was a lost feat too, servos tied behind his back and pressed on by Ratchet’s broad, overpowering frame. Any chance of escape was nothing but a dashed hope now.
And it was exactly where he wanted to be.
Drift massaged Rodimus’s final gently as he pulled him off of his spike for a moment. A choked whimper erupting as Rodimus coughed, oral lubricants leaking down his chin as he looked up at Drift, frame rocking with every thrust from Ratchet behind him. “You look so pathetic like this Roddy… is this really all you’re good for?” Drift crooned, using his thumb to wipe away some of the oral lubricants away, “So spike-stupid…” His other servo waving off to Ratchet, who in turn slowed his thrusts. A desperate cry wracked Rodimus’s vocalizer from the slow of the ministrations to his sore valve.
“P-please, n-no…” He stammered out, static lacing his words, but Ratchet shushed him quickly. Holding his waist tight and resting his helm on his trembling shoulder, he spoke low and condescendingly, “Drift’s right, you’re so spike-whipped aren’t you? Can’t have you overloading again so quickly.” A quiet whine escaped as he looked down best he could, helm still held in place by Drift. He did overload quite quickly the first few times, a shimmering puddle of lubricant below where he knelt. The same viscous liquid splattered on each of their frames equally, like a sinful painting of exhaustion and passion. “Please, I need you so bad…” Rodimus half-sobbed, tears still stinging his flickering, blue optics.
Ratchet tutted as if Roddy was a sparkling, his thrusts becoming agonizingly slow, “So impatient, perhaps we should-…” “Leave him?” Drift finished the medic’s thought, Rodimus’s optics widening almost comically large as he whined in protest, “N-no! Please, I need you! I-I need you so bad!” He tried to lean forward to latch on Drift’s spike, but the mech’s grip was too tight on Rodimus’s helm, preventing him from moving it at all. “You’re so desperate, pathetic really… I bet you can’t even overload without the help from the both of us.” Drift snapped, letting his firm hold loosen as he stepped out of Roddy’s reach as he lurched forward, quickly brought back by Ratchet in his firm hold.
Rodimus watched almost hungrily, Drift starting to stroke himself as his spike bobbed in the air, taunting him. “Please…” Ratchet’s servo trailed up to his chin and brought his helm back until the back of it touched the medic’s shoulder, forcing him to look at the ceiling. Rodimus was so desperate for Drift to come back and join them again, but from the near evil smirk that he caught a glimpse of both of the mechs, they had something else in mind. Ratchet’s servo trailed the underside of Rodimus’s jaw, coaxing a whine out as he squirmed in his hold, sitting on his spike fully like a throne, fully on display for Drift. “Look at you…”
Rodimus trembled in Ratchet’s hold, his neck craned backward as his optics were forced to the ceiling, all he could do was squirm and try to get some sort of friction or movement from the mech below, servos trying to wriggle free from his restraints that kept them behind him, “N-ngh! Please Ratty, I-I-!” Drift tsk’ed as he stepped closer to the two mechs, lightly trailing a digit up his exposed neck cables, earning a whiney shiver in return. “What’s wrong Roddy? Can’t think straight? So slagging dumb.” Ratchet smirked and licked a long wet stripe over his shoulder plating, caressing the seams with his glossa before pressing a chaste kiss on his nape, “C’mon Drifty, he looks stupidly adorable like this, so fragged-out of his processor.” Drift hummed thoughtfully as he gave his spike a squeeze, transfluid dribbling onto the floor.
“Alright,” Rodimus’s optics widened in relief as he tried to wrench his helm down to look at him, hips bucking involuntarily as he whined, needing much needed movement from Ratchet behind him, “Roddy?” A near-sadistic grin formed on the medic’s faceplates as he spoke, low and taunting, “Are you getting… impatient? Again? Perhaps we should leave you to fend for yourself-…” A broken cry escaped Rodimus’s vocalizer, squirming in his tight hold, “N-no! Please! I-!” The thrashing mech stopped short and slowed his movements until he sat still on Ratchet’s spike, whimpering as he bit back a sob of desperation, trying to be good and quiet. “Please…”
A hum of satisfaction escaped Drift’s vocalizer as he stepped close to the two mechs, exchanging a sly look with Ratchet. “Fine. But if this ever happens again, we’re leaving you to satisfy yourself… alone.” A whine escaped Rodimus’s vocalizer as he stayed still, waiting for attention, optics shut tight. He let out a surprised noise as Ratchet leaned back, having Roddy straddle him, letting out a soft moan as he was seated just the slightest bit deeper, a shiver running up his back-strut.
Rodimus’s optics opened a little as he was pushed back by Drift’s open-palmed servo, feeling the weight shift as he settled on Ratchet’s thighs, dripping spike nudging his already stuffed valve. “O-oh…” Drift shushed him quietly, using two of his free digits to prod at and stretch the sensitive, dripping mesh, Ratchet’s servos coming up to hold Rodimus’s hips firmly. “Ngh-k-a-ah!” The blunt head of Drift’s spike started to slip through, bumping his throbbing anterior node. A yelp escaped as the intrusion slid in, fairly easily for the size that it was. “Drift! O-oh Primus…”
“Stay quiet for me Roddy, can’t have everyone on the ship knowing how desperate you are…” Drift crooned, pressing in deeper into the wet, tight heat, cutting off anything Rodimus was going to say as it delved into a choked garble of want. His valve cycled greedily as Drift continued to press in, earning a low moan from Ratchet already fully seated inside. It wasn’t long before Drift bottomed out, spike pressing against Ratchet’s, calipers fluttering around their lengths, “Slag Roddy… how’re still able to fit both of us?” Ratchet groaned, “Wouldn’t be surprised if you were n-nothin’ but shareware in a past life…”
“A-ah!” A sharp cry escaped Rodimus’s hanging jaw, drift starting to move his hips in and out, legs kicking against the floor harshly from the onslaught to his overstretched valve. A slew of garbled whines and groans erupted as both of the mechs moved, soft bucks from the medic below and rougher drags of Drift’s spike. The firm hold on his waist and hips, servos wandering over his frame so slightly, the combined groans and stifled moans blessing his audials. It was so much, so overwhelming, so… good.
A shattered cry of pleasure rang out, it sounded more one of anguish, like when each of their seals first broke, but ten-fold. A cacophony of unrelenting and unapologetic desire as each of them wailed. Rodimus’s frame went tense, valve clenching tightly and drawing the others into their overloads with shared longing for each other. Transfluid spilled into his aching valve as the world became white-hot thoughtlessness, his processor abandoning him entirely. His optics slipped shut as his frame slackened and the environment faded into the blackness of recharge.
——————
He didn’t know if he ever came down from his high or if the others did, but he eventually woke dazed and exhausted in their shared berth. He was seemingly cleaned up while he was offline, panels neatly in place and not a speck of transfluid in sight on his slightly shaky frame.
Ratchet and Drift were chatting and cuddling with Rodimus sandwiched between them, silent laughter and shared secrets faltering as he woke, Drift speaking softly to him. “Hey Roddy… you did great tonight…” A weak chuckle slipped his sore vocalizer, staticky from overuse, “Really?” Ratchet piped up, seeming just as tired as him, “Mhm… also you passed out for an hour.”
“Oh. Well luckily our schedules are cleared for tomorrow, so we can sleep in all day…” Rodimus let out a deep sigh as he relished the shared warmth of his berth-mates. “Actually,” Ratchet started, “I have a shift to cover tomorrow…” Audible groans of disappointment filled the room before faltering into light laughter.
Oh well.
At least Rodimus had one berth-mate to cuddle tomorrow.
—————
(Hope you liked it! I’ll be posting this on Ao3 if you don’t mind too :p)
(this fic has little to nothing to do with sentinel lol)
Jazz was sitting alone in his quarters after a lecturing from Sentinel, which for once, he actually listened to, and he was exhausted. The constant yapping and onslaught of degradation was hitting his processor at a million-miles-an-hour. He was sure Sentinel didn’t even take vent in between his insults.
Jazz lay back on his berth with a groan, draping his arm over his visor, what was wrong with him? He usually could just, brush it off and go on with his day like nothing happened, but he just… couldn’t. Sentinel was annoying, and germaphobic, and scrutinizing, and crude, and- whatever, but he was hardly wrong…
A joor passed as he lay on his berth, the minutes ticking by as he tried to not internalize the things Sentinel said, no wonder Jazz just ignored him most of the time. “Stupid Sentinel…” Jazz groaned, he was so tired, but he could hardly sleep. He glanced down at his codpiece and hovered a servo over it, thinking that, maybe a stress-reliever could help…
The panel shifted away and his spike rested in his servo, slowly pressurizing before he gave it a few quick pumps, speeding up the process. A small bead of lubricant was already forming when he started to move his servo, biting back a quiet whine.
The small movements slowly turned into long strokes, moving up and down the spike, spreading lubricant all over the length. His steady vents faltered into uneven pants, denta bared making his whines come out as hisses. “S-slag…” The movements grew more frantic as he spread his legs, reaching a servo to his valve plating, lubricants dribbling onto his wrist as he snapped it open. He needed more.
He never considered himself a valve mech, but there was a certain nagging in the back of his processor, which didn’t happen often. He shook it off and slowly started to massage the soft mesh, unable to repress the loud whine that escaped his vocalizer and all movements to halt. That was new. “Mhn- okay… just breathe Jazz… deep vents…”
He started to stroke his spike again while dipping a digit into his valve, slowly becoming more wet as he prodded the sensitive calipers. “Hgn!” Jazz keened quietly, biting his lower lip hard. His servo pumped his spike faster, the other working at his valve, an overload coming quicker than expected, “K-h-hah!”
A shiver ran up his back-strut as he worked his servos faster, one pumping and the other thrusting, his legs kicking slightly from the stimulation. “Augn- P-Primus!” He thrusted his digits faster, curling them slightly against the sensitive mesh, his whole frame seizing with a silent cry, finally coming undone.
His valve spasmed as he shuddered almost violently, spurts of transfluid shooting onto his chassis and onto his digits still lodged deep inside. Jazz panted heavily as he slumped against the berth like a bag of stones, limp spike and overused valve retracting behind his panels, the sheets a sticky mess. He’ll have to clean them later, for now, he was too tired, optics lulling closed into an exhausted recharge.
(hope you liked it! Srry it took so long, i was unmotivated and busy, it finally stopped rotting in ma drafts :p)
Before I send an ask, which continuities arw you familiar with? I have a FAT crush on this one obscure ass character, who's entire fanbase could probably fit in my car.
for me, I’m most familiar with TFP, Transformers one, G1 (kinda), and IDW
edit: and Earthspark too (only the first season tho :/)
i’m very willing to look up characters and research other continuities if needed, but those are what i’m most familiar with :)
(also I do really love researching obscure characters, it’s really fun, so don’t be afraid to ask!)
sorry i just love Starop, especially TFP, it’s criminally underrated
Just- the dynamic of someone deemed unlovable by their peers and for someone to live up to those expectations because that’s the only way they’ll be seen, being loved by someone that loves everyone easily and breaks down those walls to get to their true vulnerabilities, gets me every time
(also: no beta read, we die like Cliffjumper)
ok so get this:
Starscream has officially left the Decepticons and got injured, he contacted Ratchet for help, and instead of being left there, for whatever reason, Ratchet brings him back to the base to be properly taken care of. Because of the extent of Starscream’s injuries, and his non-affiliation with the Decepticons, he’s allowed to stay as long as he needs, along with the possibility of being a particularly useful asset. But soon, Optimus sees him as something, possibly… more than that.
Starscream acts like a stray cat towards Optimus and the others, hissing and scratching and untrustworthy, he is grateful that they took him in, but he’s bitter nonetheless. Optimus isn’t having it though, and like how Starscream is like a stray cat, Optimus is intent on having Starscream trust him, no matter what. He starts by sitting by him, trying to strike up conversation, but Starscream is unusually quiet for such a boisterous mech, avoiding eye contact and keeping his servos by his sides. His wings twitch nervously as he tried to get used to the mutual neutrality of Optimus’s gestures and actions. Just sitting there and trying to treat him like an equal.
It’s strange, to say the least.
This had continued for a few weeks, Optimus trying to strike up conversation and being near him, and with some luck, Starscream had started to open up. If only a little. He’d allowed Optimus to come closer each time they chatted, and it eventually evolved so that the leader could touch Starscream, resting his servo on the seeker’s shoulder at most so far. So far.
Another month had passed before Starscream really got comfortable around Optimus, speaking openly about his endeavors when he was with the Decepticons and opening up about how he was treated, which only made Optimus’s quest to get closer to the seeker more adamant.
One day, Optimus requested to meet Starscream in his quarters and speak in private, which the seeker agreed to quite enthusiastically. And after a few minutes of gently prodding the seeker to talk, he finally cracked, his stern and demanding facade melting away as he felt comfortable to open up. The seeker rambled on about his seething desire for revenge against Megatron and how he was treated, from his past-leader and his comrades alike. And for the first time in a while, he cried. He cried in front of someone. And that someone cared about him.
Optimus held Starscream in his arms, caressing his form with his large servos to try and comfort him, frames pressed close together. One thing lead to the next, and their arrays were bared to the cool air, lip plates clashing together intensely. The seeker started to sink down on Optimus’s lap, his spike stretching him open as he cursed under his panting breaths. He didn’t slow down despite Optimus’s quiet pleas to not hurt himself, just trying to… get this over with. But Optimus wasn’t having it.
Large servos grasped the seeker’s waist and stilled him, earning a loud whine of protest as Starscream thrashed, tears flowing again from the intense sting and the need for release. Soft shushing quieted his processor as he finally, and reluctantly, let Optimus take control, something he wanted for so long, taken away from him, again. But it felt different.
Starscream wanted to take charge in everything, it was his only want in life, and it was the only thing denied from him. But with Optimus… he let him take control. Tender servos caressing his frame, the intimacy of the slower pace, his quiet sounds… Starscream felt desperate, for comfort, for release… for love. Even if it was a surface level thing, nothing more than a one-night-stand, it felt so good…
And soon, he was fully seated on Optimus’s lap, the stretch more pleasurable than painful than his previous, desperate attempts to cram the leader’s spike in. His large servos resting on Starscream’s waist, his lidded optics pleading for him to move. Starscream was allowed to take charge. He was finally allowed to take control.
Loud cries of satisfaction soon filled the rooms as he took initiative, starting to bounce on the large spike seated inside, Optimus’s large servos hooking under his thighs and seeming to guide him. But he didn’t mind.
Low groans erupted from Optimus’s vocalizer as the seeker rode him in earnest, helm tilting back slowly up towards the ceiling in contentment. The sounds that filled the room started to grow louder as release started to creep on them fairly quickly, Starscream’s desperate motions only growing faster and faster and-
An audial-piercing wail broke out as the mechs finally overloaded, Optimus holding Starscream tight to his frame almost defensively as he filled him with his transfluid, as if to never let go. And Starscream didn’t mind. Only whining as he was claimed, wanted… loved. By Optimus of all mechs.
They sat panting from the aftermath, Optimus keeping his hold on the seeker tight, Starscream slumping against him contently, engine purring as he started to slip into recharge, optics lolling shut and processor dancing in bliss. He let sleep take him as Optimus slowly rocked him in his hold and kissed his helm, the gentleness lulling him to sleep, feeling…
Safe.
(this took way too long srry, i got way into it, hope you liked it :3)
(edit: this is lowkey kinda ass, BUT i’ll be rewriting it and putting it on Ao3 sometime(, i was half-asleep and on 7% battery lol))
Could you spare some thoughts about g1 beachcomber... he'd be so soft
i actually don’t know this character too much, but after a little research, he’s a pretty cool dude!
some headcanons from the little knowledge i have lol :,) :
from what I’ve collected, yes, he’d be very caring and soft.
He loves your laugh, and i like to think he’d say some corny ass stuff during interface, just to hear it
I feel like he’d be keen on outdoor interface, saying that he’d like to see nature while he’s fragging, but his gaze remains on you the whole time
personally, i feel like he’d be against anything that’ll harm either you or him, he wants peace for all creatures and for no one to get hurt. So if you ask him to choke you, the most he’d do is rest his servo on your neck and not do anything beyond that; he loves you too much to hurt you
Show up with anything blingy or shiny, like lingerie or accessories, and he’d go wild, well, as wild as he can with you. (Bonus points if it mimics bird plumage or something like that, he’d ramble on and on with facts about the creature the ’dazz-razz’ mimics)
it’s complicated on the vore part, but I’ll start with oviposistion.
oviposistion, for me, is a really cool concept to play around with. From the possibilities of the different biology, how the eggs can be formed/incubated, and how they get there in the first place! But my favorite combination of ideas/concepts can be paired with mating cycles/heats.
i like to think of the two paired up acting like birds, (i especially like this concept for seekers,) where normally there’s non-fertilized eggs sitting in a carrier’s system and they get really broody. It’s so fun to think of different behavioral traits that could be amplified or muted during the broody cycles; Starscream getting extra bitchy is a personal favorite.
(Nesting can follow which is a guilty pleasure for me, just imagine wondering where all the extra sheets and blankets went, which could only mean one thing: the mech who stole them is COZY and HORNY.)
then the eggs would be laid, i like to think that larger mechs take longer to lay than smaller mechs, taking cycles to get them all out when another mech gets them out in less than a joor (/hour). the carriers could be extra territorial until they come to their senses again too, perhaps they could consume the dud-eggs for extra energy, like how chickens eat eggshells or fire ant queens create unfertilized eggs solely to eat.
okay now for vore:
vore is complicated, but, unless if it’s written well enough, it’s not for me. I can see how it can be favored in the valveplug community, to have to put one’s whole trust in something that could essentially KILL YOU to NOT kill you. To settle in a mech’s tanks and feel completely safe in such an unmoving organism is interesting. But it’s not for me.
Btw, no hate to those who like it! It’s just not for me :3
sunstreaker/humanformer Blaster/sideswipe valve plug with their g1 and IDW designs/personalities 🥺
Here’s the thought process:
I hate twincest and sunny/sides shipping, but think it’s fine if the two are fucking like the same person? Idk I’ve never had a problem with it when it’s written well, but if this ask makes you uncomfortable I’m so sorry!
I just really want to see them spit roast a human, with emphasis on the size difference aspect.
Something soft, where the twins have to hold back and go slow and gentle with their smaller partner even though they reallly just wanna let loose because it feels so good
Blaster feels really loved and cared for by the two giant mechs being so gentle despite their size, and that just makes him hornier. Like they COILD really hurt him if they wanted, but they care enough about him not too.
I’ve always liked the concept/idea that the mechs absolutely HAVE to take things slow and gentle for their human partners, it’s always tickled me. :3
just imagine the pure restraint they’d have to exercise to not absolutely PLOW their humans into the berth/floor/wherever they’re fragging, and forcing them to take their time. Also, because they’re so BIG, both height and size-wise, it can take the whole night for any of them to reach release.
(i like to think that the speedsters of the Cybertronians are just as fast in berth, so them absolutely STRUGGLING is such a fun concept to think of and write.)
(p.s. personally, i’ve never liked it when they go rough on their human lovers, it’s always seemed to unrealistic for me :/)
(also also, i think it’s okay if the twins frag the same person, as long as they’re not fragging each other. It also has to do with how it’s written too, and if the writer thinks if any of the characters would be comfortable in this position. For me, as long as the twins are not explicitly mentioned to be fragging EACH-OTHER, it’s most likely fine. Just me tho :3)
as someone’s who’s ace-spec as well, you captured so much TENDERNESS and SOFTNESS in it and AAAAAAAUGH
i’mma just- go a little feral and-
HOW EACH SECTION MAKES ME FEEL :333
Top left corner: the tenderness in Bulk’s kiss and how he handles Jackie’s fin??? I like to think they’re an especially sensitive part of him, so for that vulnerability to let Bulk handle it and with such gentleness??? AND THE EXPRESSIONS ON TOP OF THAT??? Ough.
Top right corner: MFPH- i can FEEL the gentleness of Bulk’s caresses, how careful his digits move around Jackie’s frame and- I don’t even know how you even captured that but i’m seriously so impressed :)))
Middle left: AAAAAH THE’RE SO CUTE (they make me incredibly ill)
Right bottom corner: *fucking dies* bro. BRO. They way their frames seem to intertwine so perfectly, especially from this angle, the lines, the anatomy, THE GOD-DAMN TENDERNESS
like bro, this is so- i can’t even say how much pure serotonin and glee this brings me
I noticed on your Knock Out x Breakdown you said you don't have an AO3 account, so if you want I try to send you and invite so you can your own account.
BRO??? This is so nice???
OF COURSE!
i think you can send me the numbers or something but idk how this works lol
(aka: knockout humps his pillow and pretends it’s his dead partner; he cries about it)
little note beforehand (little rant): personally, one thing i find underrated/underused is angst and smut meshed together without it being something like non-con, harmful to either partners, or anything along those lines
I JUST NEED TFP KNOCKOUT TO CRY IT OUT WHILE FRAGGING A PILLOW, IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK-
anyway, this is a long one, buckle in
VALVEPLUG AHEAD, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
Knockout arrived at his quarters after an especially long shift, multiple vehicons having been injured in a recent battle and gave him a lot of trouble, if only Breakdown were around to help. But no matter, he was home now and could finally relax… Breakdown. How long has it been since he…? He sighed deeply as he stood over his berth, moonlight shining on it from the bedside window, built specifically for two mechs, one big and one small. “Breakdown?” Knockout asked to the air, “Are you still there?” No answer… as usual.
He sat on the edge of the soft berth and held his helm in his servos, resting his elbows on his knees, hunching over as the moon outlined his frame from behind him. He sighed deeply as he thought about his conjunx, his beautiful, beautiful conjunx… Primus really does take the best sparks early. Doesn’t he? Knockout lay on his back on the berth, staring up at the ceiling as he folded his servos across his chassis, oh how he missed being held by Breakdown. His servos tracing Knockout’s frame as he lay cuddling him, how he trailed them from his chassis to his waist to bring him closer, and when he kissed his neck cables so tenderly. Knockout mimicked Breakdown’s actions with his own servo, trailing his it down his chassis, to his abdomen, then to his inner thigh, attempting to mirror his conjunx’s tender touches.
“Please…” He whined, turning onto his side, shuffling into the soft sheets beneath him, optics slipping shut for a second as he caressed his thigh-plates before opening them half-lidded and eyeing Breakdown’s extra large pillow. He grabbed it and brought it close to him, clutching to it tightly before running his servos over the soft material, relishing the softness Breakdown always loved about it, Knockout didn’t always like soft things, but he had come to appreciate it a lot more nowadays. He closed his optics once more and traced the crevices and the dips in the pillow, imagining each one were part of his conjunx, when they kissed and how his larger derma slotted perfectly with his, how their servos intertwined so perfectly, how he was meant for him was perfect…
Knockout brought his legs up and hooked them around the pillow, slotting it between his legs, the softness rubbing up against his modesty panel oh so gently, like how Breakdown… Knockout let out a soft whine as he clutched the pillow tighter, grinding his hips against the comfortable cushion once, imagining his panel rubbing up against Breakdown’s valve, how perfect it was. Every time Knockdown brought him to berth, he always insisted on being the one to spike him, and Breakdown being the faithful conjunx he was, he always let him. “B-Breakdown… please…” He asked, as he’d done so many times before, and as so many times before, he swore he heard his partner whisper, “Yes, of course my dear, always…”
He turned so he was laying on top of the pillow, still clutching to it as he positioned his hips against where Breakdown’s would be, “I-I need you… please,” he asked his lover’s memory, “Just for tonight?” The wind from the open window responded in a voice just as gentle as Breakdown’s, “Yes my dear, please, I need you too…” Knockout nodded and started to move his hips against the plush cushion, a sigh escaping his derma as he started to rock against the memoir of his lover, “Thank you…”
Knockout started to vent heavier as he rolled against the soft surface, letting his panels snap open and his valve breathe, the feeling was more divine now, it felt just like… Breakdown. He shut his optics and ground against the pillow gently, his anterior node rubbing against the firmer sewn corner of the cushion, creating much needed stimulation, “Ngh, Breakdown~…” Knockout whined, he wanted to go faster, but he kept his slower pace, savoring this fleeting moment with his racing mind as imagined his conjunx in the pillow’s place. He took a deep vent as he ground his hips deeper against his lover’s memory, trying to press into Breakdown’s valve with his, they way they sang when their nodes made contact. But no such noise came from below. No sounds other than the rustling of the fabric blessed his audials. The familiar sound of metal against metal and the wet slap of tender, love filled nights were absent, the squish of the pillow was nothing like Breakdown’s sturdy frame either… it was not the same. It’ll… never be the same.
Knockout panted openly as his hips slowed to a staggering stop, mouth hanging open as he choked back a sob, trying to hug the pillow tighter, trying to get a sense of resistance, a sentiment of the unmoving sense of Breakdown’s frame, but none came. His conjunx always liked soft things, but it only left a sense of longing as Knockout realized the only sense of resistance came from his own tight grip on the cushion. “O-oh Primus…” He whined as he started to tremble, trying to hold back his tears as they pricked his closed optics, refusing to open, scared he’ll lose the illusion that Breakdown might be there, even though he knew the answer to that dashed hope. “Please… I need you so bad…” He whined, as he held onto the pillow impossibly tighter, a few stray tears escaping as he clutched it like a lifeline, “Please, don’t leave me…”
He started to move his hips again against the cushion more frantically, chasing the feeling of his node being stimulated and the press of his dripping valve against his partner’s pillow. Knockout needed to be close to Breakdown again, the loneliness was getting too much, reduced to a whiny mess as he fragged the daylights out of a pillow, tears streaming more freely as he moved his hips quicker and quicker. “H-hah! Breakdown…” He stammered out a cry to his conjunx, hoping he would hear a sound in return… but none came.
He picks up speed, frame trembling as he started to cry, tears flowing down his cheeks and hiccuping as he clutched to the pillow impossibly tighter. “B-Breakdown… oh…” Knockout whimpered out as he continued to hump the cushion in earnest, fat tears rolling down from his optics as he sobbed. Why was Primus so cruel to him? To have stolen his conjunx away from him and leave him longing like this? He let out a spark-shattering wail, something that could be heard halfway across the Nemesis, as he cried harder and harder, optics squeezing shut as they burned worse, hips still thrusting frantically into the pillow. “B-Break- Breakdown!” He yelped, his impending overload sneaking up on him faster than expected as he ground his hips and clutched to the cushion tighter, desperate for release, contact, anything from his conjunx.
“Oh, my love…” His valve throbbed worse as he was nearing his overload, humping the pillow faster as the berth creaked underneath, thrusts puncturing each of his words, “Ugh! Ngh! B-ah! Breakdown… p-please!” Knockout half-sobbed, half-moaned as he chased the familiar feeling of his oncoming overload, something that used to be shared in bliss, was now something to lament, a wail breaking the string of desperate noises he would be praised so sweetly for, coming out as a sorrowful sound, “Ugh! Ngh-BREAKDOWN!” His overload came in overwhelmed spurts, his empty valve spasming as it shot out pink, translucent transfluid, staining the pillow below him. “Ngh~… oh, m-my love… please…” he stammered, slowly coming down from his high, clinging to the now-soiled cushion, panting hard and heavy, broken sobs cutting through the deep vents.
“Mngh… oh,” Knockout’s processor was so fuzzy, optics lulling open to look at the cushion as he regained his sense of self, his lonely, aching self. “Breakdown… I, I love you… I love you so much…” He kissed the softness of the pillow, only to scowl and flop onto his side, settling into the berth as he kicked his conjunx’s pillow away with a frustrated cry, the plush of the cushion was not like Breakdown at all, it would never be like Breakdown. “Why… oh god, why..?” He asked no one, tears rolling down his cheek slowly, following the consistent trail from before he scrambled to retrieve the stained pillow, bringing it up to his olfactory sensors and taking a deep vent. It was all too familiar, the smell of Breakdown and the after-notes of interfacing, it was so comforting, yet so betraying at the same time. He wanted his partner so badly, he wanted to hold him again, to talk to him again, to laugh and cry and reminisce with him…
Knockout held the pillow closer to his slightly trembling frame as he relaxed into the berth, shuffling into the sheets below as he closed his optics, sore from crying and vocalizer overused from sobbing and whining, pleading one last thing to the cruel spirit of Primus before slipping into an overwhelmed recharge, hoping that Breakdown would answer…
“Please… I need you to hold me… just once…” And the wind from the window complied, caressing his shaking form as it flowed into the room, the crisp night cooling his overwhelmed frame, the moving omnipresence of the air holding him one last time, “Thank you…”
