Compared to how much human language and Cybertronian are different from other, they would never guess one day their human would come to them and use some keyboard device to talk to them. (Like how rocky talk to grace on the ship lol)
Human: *start typing* [ Greetings fellow bot. ]
Bots: !??!!! You can talk Cybertronian now?!
Human: *clicking sound* [ Yes, how are you today? ]
Bots: Fine…Great actually—, wow you really speak our language…this is incredible!
Human: [ device still in developing]
Human: [ want to know bot’s name ]
Bots: but aren’t you already know my name?
Human: [ in cybertronian not earth language ]
Bots: OH— okay it’s (…).
Human: *typing* [ -— -—? ]
Bots: YES! I’m so proud of you! Good human!
Human: [ proud happy thank you ]
Bots: *mutter* Primus…this is the best day of my life.
I’m sure this is a very common take, but I haven’t had any motivation to write fandom stuff lately, so I wanted to get this little bit down while I had the inspiration
—
Being the human partner of a Cybertronian, any Cybertronian really, and turning this huge, hulking, intimidating bot into a giant mechanical cat with some gentle touches, some kisses, and sweet words. Standing on your bot’s shoulder, gently stroking a hand over their cheekplate, and listening to that earthshaking rumble of their engine as they purr. Your bot gently nudging you with their cheek or nose when you stop, silently insisting the continued touch and affectionate words. Your bot mass displacing and crawling into your bed, arranging pillows on your lap before laying their head down and promptly falling into a well deserved recharge. (Let’s pretend that they wouldn’t shatter the bed frame just by putting a little weight on it, lmao-) Your bot trying to teach you chirolinguistics, not realizing that you don’t have the same kinds of sensors in your palm as they do, leaving you incredibly confused. Your bot relishing in the tiny flickers of unabashed emotion they get from your very weak organic EM field. Singing softly to your bot, only for them to croon one of their favorite Cybertronian tunes right back, and the both of you giggling over just how vastly different your music is from each other’s. Your bot trying to teach you the Cybertronian language, and you trying to teach them about human art/literature/philosophy/etc. You and your bot being soft and cute and fluffy. Send tweet 🏃♀️💨
—
I hope you don’t mind me tagging you, but you’re the one who motivated me to get back into writing!!! This lil drabble certainly isn’t my best work, but it’s the most I’ve done in awhile, haha @revelboo
Transformers Autobots Characters Fully Committing To It Now (NSFW DRABBLES?)
Oh, frag.
A whole week—seven nights—of nothing but them pressing you into the berth, their frame caging yours, their voice thick and hungry as they push deep, again and again.
They’re relentless.
Every night, you start off with some strength—but by the end, you’re melting, your body wrecked, your voice nothing but soft, breathless whimpers as they fill you over and over until you can’t hold any more.
And the worst part?
You love it.
SMUT - you been warned
The characters are written down below are,, Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Ratchet, Jazz, Ironhide, Sideswipe, Crosshairs, Drift, Hound and Hotrod.
Optimus Prime
Optimus tells himself he should pace it—but the moment he’s buried deep inside you, the moment he feels you clench so sweetly around him, his restraint snaps.
Every night, he ruins you.
His thrusts are deep, deliberate, his servos pinning your hips as he watches your expression twist with pure, blissful exhaustion.
By the third night, your body practically melts into his, too spent to do anything but take what he gives. And Primus, that just makes him want to keep going.
“You asked for this,” he growls, voice dark, lips tracing your heated skin. “Now, take it.”
Bumblebee
Bee started off teasing—but by night four, it’s no longer a game.
It’s a need.
He worships you, his servos gripping tight, his engine revving as he loses himself in the way your body takes him so perfectly.
Every night, you end up a whimpering mess beneath him, your body trembling, unable to move, too wrecked to do anything but let him fill you up again.
And frag, that only makes him want to keep going.
“You’re so fragging good for me,” he groans, pressing his forehead against yours. “You still got another round in you, sweets?”
You always do.
Ratchet
Ratchet knew this was a bad idea—he knew you wouldn’t last the full week.
But Primus, you insisted.
And now?
Now, you’re spent, your frame wrecked, your voice no longer begging for more, but begging for a break—
But does he stop?
No.
His movements are slow, deliberate, his spark pulsing wildly as he watches you tremble beneath him, taking everything he gives you.
“You wanted this, love,” he rumbles, voice thick with possession. “So now, you’ll take it.”
And oh, you do.
Jazz
Jazz thought he’d be the one to tap out first.
He was wrong.
By the sixth night, you’re melting beneath him, your body weak, your voice a soft, breathless whimper as he fills you up again and again.
And Primus, he loves it.
“Too much, babe?” he teases, his smirk dark as he rolls his hips just right, making your whole frame shudder.
But the second you let out a broken moan—
Oh, frag.
He’s gone.
Ironhide
Ironhide warned you.
He told you a whole week would be too much.
But you insisted.
And now?
Now, you’re spent, your frame trembling, your voice a breathless whimper as he presses into you again, filling you completely.
He should stop. He should.
But frag, you’re so soft beneath him, so weak from taking him night after night—
And Primus, that only makes him want to keep going.
“You said a week,” he growls, voice dark as he thrusts deep. “So I’m gonna give you one.” his servos slide between the crevice behind her knees as he fold her nicely.
folding her knees to touch her shoulder plates as his hips snapped towards her valve.
Sideswipe
Sideswipe laughed when you first suggested it.
A whole week? There was no way you’d last that long.
But now?
Now, you’re melting under him, too wrecked to do anything but cling to his frame, letting him take what he needs.
And oh, he needs it.
“Aw, babe,” he chuckles, voice thick with hunger. “You’re so fragging wrecked, huh?”
And the second you let out a weak little whimper—
Oh, he’s not stopping now.
Crosshairs
Crosshairs should’ve known this would happen.
By the fourth night, you’re already spent, your frame trembling beneath him, your voice breathless as he fills you up again.
“You’re so fraggin’ soft now,” he murmurs, his servo sliding over your trembling frame. “Practically meltin’ for me.”
And frag, if that doesn’t make him want to wreck you all over again.
Drift
Drift had been gentle—at first.
But by night three, something inside him snaps.
You’re so soft beneath him, so pliant, your body trembling as you take everything he gives you—
And Primus, he needs more.
“You will endure,” he murmurs, voice thick with reverence, his movements slow but deep.
And oh, you do.
Each thrust send her though pleasure after pleasure, her whines make him increase each gentle thrust into more needy and hard ones, just by hearing her needy sounds made Drift himself snap.
But he shouldn't, not if they both have all week to continue on
Hound
Hound knew you’d be wrecked before the week was up.
But frag, did you look good like this.
Soft. Weak. Too spent to do anything but let him press you down, keeping you full all fraggin’ night.
And the way you melt for him?
Primus.
“You wanted this, sugar,” he rumbles, pressing a slow, deep thrust into you. “So now, you’re gonna take it.”
And frag, do you ever.
His large size makes her feel many things at once, the tight squeeze he feels when he would grind back in makes him full on shudder.
HotRod
Hot Rod thought he was the one in control.
He was wrong.
Because now, you’re so wrecked, so weak beneath him, your body trembling, your voice a soft, breathless whimper—
And frag, he needs to fill you up again.
He should stop. He should.
But with you this soft, this wrecked, he just can’t help but press a slow, deep thrust into you again.
“… Just one more,” he mutters, knowing damn well it won’t be.
And frag, do you let him.
notes - ahhh.. I suck at drawing transformers bots..
You meet Jazz one day while he’s going around posing as a Waymo, to be able to get more intel on the native species. Fortunately humans have developed self-driving vehicles, so it’s not difficult to pose as one. He’s enjoying being an anonymous presence, because people tend to ignore him entirely and go about their business. He can listen in on your phone conversations, observe your reactions to the world around you, and you’ll never even know. (Except you’ll find that strangely, your payment glitched and never pulled any money out of your account..?)
Not to mention, he’s far safer as a driver than any human on the road, even if having to pose as an insentient car can get aggravating. Jazz finds himself fascinated by the little mammals, and it doesn’t take long before, his compassion for others rises to the forefront.
It’s hard not speaking up when an upset human gets inside his passenger compartment. He keeps a running list of advice going in his processor.
Girl, dump his aft, he clearly doesn’t respect you if he won’t even take the trash out. You think Prowler would let me get away with that?
Aw, sweetspark, it’s not that bad! I’m not an expert but mammal hair grows back fast, don’t it? You could start a fashion statement.
Ask for that raise, or tell ‘em you quit! Or just go ahead and quit. You don’t wanna know what I’m seein’ on your boss’ computer, but I bet the FBI would.
Because sometimes, well. He’s nosy, all right? He’s SpecOps, poking his servos into all kinds of pies is his job.
And it’s not like it’s hard for him to do a tiny bit of snooping here and there. And if he just happens to delete the medical debt that one poor lady was crying to her mom about, a cast still on her broken strut and pain in her movements? Nobody needs to know.
You, though. There’s something about you that makes a full-frame shiver go through him right down to his wheels, as you pause as the door and gently run your delicate fingers over the curve of his hood.
Wow! I had no idea they’d gotten some taste in Waymos. You must have some impressive tracking on you, handsome, to keep someone from stealing you.
Your strange organic EM field is full of honest, open appreciation. Maybe it’s that, even more than the soft touch to his hood and the words of praise, that coaxes a startled rev of pride from his engine. He quickly quiets it, knowing Mirage and Cliffjumper would hassle him to no end about it if they’d heard. The terrifying head of Prime’s SpecOps, preening like a newspark in his first big-mech frame, because of the attention of a tiny, squishy biped?
He settles into a calm idle as you turn your head, furrow appearing between your brow as you undoubtedly wonder what that had been about. But it doesn’t put you off enough to refuse to get in the car. As you pull open his door and settle inside the passenger compartment, Jazz lets his own senses gently twine about you. Inquiring, questioning.
Humans aren’t the biggest mystery on Earth, but they do make the Autobots’ list of Certified Weirdnesses (quite long to begin with; Prowl and Red Alert keep arguing over whether something called Sasquatch might deserve a place on the list of potential threats to the Ark).
The fact that your species so closely resembles theirs, both in physical form and in your extreme sociability, is one thing. That you have electromagnetic fields despite being organic, despite not having sparks? That’s something else entirely.
They’ve been far and wide across the universe in this Primus-forsaken war, but nobody, not Jazz, not Prowl, not Ratchet, not Perceptor, not Optimus not even Kup, the old slagger - nobody has ever met another species with a compatible EM field.
Ever.
The other sapients they’ve crossed paths with, almost always to the poor aliens’ detriment if not outright extinction, never had so much as a squeak of a field. That had been common knowledge on Cybertron when Jazz had been a young mech. It was a dull fact mentioned in educational downloads, worth skimming over at best.
To say their first moments waking up on Earth were startling was an understatement. When they had encountered these tiny mech-like organics, felt their fear and wonder and curiosity as if they were Cybertronians writ small in flesh…
It wasn’t any surprise when Prime had made the order that they were setting up an outpost here. The fact they’d gotten wind of the ‘Cons somehow also lurking around the backwater little rock had just seemed like one more puzzle piece falling into place, for all that it was an unwelcome revelation.
The humans, the whole damn planet was a puzzle. Jazz loved puzzles. And something tells him there’s a lot more to this particular passenger than meets the eye.
So when he lets you out at your destination, he decides to hang around. Park in an open spot, settle down on his tires. Just for a while. Just to figure out what it is about you that keeps tickling his circuits…
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.
• ‘Are we allowed to have this stuff?’ Someone asks as they stir energon before tipping it into jello molds. And you’re not sure if they mean the energon itself or the probably toxic minerals and powders Wheeljack had provided from his lab to mix into it, but you’re guessing the answer is no regardless. Bending a finished mold to pop out the solidified block of energon shaped like a little star, it’s still slightly tacky when you pinch it between your fingers and offer the bite to Jazz.
• Leaning forward, his mouth opens to take the goodie. And you flush slightly when he grabs your finger to drag his glossa against your fingertip. Rumbling as he lets go and chews the energon goodie, you just stare at him, obviously flustered before turning around to go back to making treats. “You know I appreciate you looking after me while I’m a bit indisposed, kitten? We all, well, we’re really thankful for it.” Loves to tease, but needs you to know that. To understand that they know what you and the other little potential conjunxes are doing. Even if Megatron is throwing a fit.
• Washing your hands, you’re aware of him walking around on the counter. Moving around to where you are. “It’s the right thing to do,” you mumble as his visor brightens. “And you matter to me. Us. All of you matter to us,” you flounder and his crooked grin widens. But the floor never opens up to conveniently swallow you whole when you want it to. ‘Love you, too, kitten.’
• Watching you get even more flustered, you won’t look at, won’t meet his visored optics. Doesn’t take it personally, though. It’s cute that you’re shy. That you need some coaxing even though you’d approached and courted him first. “Come on, doll. You know you want to say it back,” he teases and your shoulders hunch slightly as another human snickers, overhearing.
• And he’s leaning to rest his hand on the sink spout, grinning up at you as he stands on the counter. How can he be so tiny and still be a smooth operator? So sure of himself as he shamelessly flirts. Eyes flicking to him and away, you grab another energon goodie and shove it in his mouth before turning and striding away to finish making snacks. Hear his low chuckle from behind you, the noise humming through you to leave you warm.
