#I always wanted to do mechs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghouljams · 2 months

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ghoul

ghoul you keep hitting the mark on every one of my kinks

monstrous size differences, seeing ur person as holy, ovul-

its like ur in my brain get out of there before u see something that starts turning these rough military men into men that fear what i want to do to them (the erotica of cyborgs, mechs and their maintenance handler just DOES something to me. someone just turning my screws and fixing my internal wires while i look down at them feeling up my most vulnerable parts. my engineer knowing every external and internal piece of me, my repairman knowing exactly which metal plates are bothering me and which screws need to be tightened more often and which parts i won’t say need fixing but he knows, i want to be known wholly and entirely by someone who can fix me and make me into their own theseus’ ship)

The eroticism of the machine.... thinking about android!Ghost....

He always seems to be hanging around when you're working on other droids or laboring with mechs. He checks over various weapons while you sit crosslegged on the tiled floor surrounded by neatly organized plates and screws. You can feel his eyes on you, but every time you look up at him, he's studying a trigger switch or tipping a gun barrel this way and that. You try to keep your attention on the open chest cavity in front of you. Your fingers trail over wires and trace circuits, looking for the too tight screws and miss-laid paths. It's delicate work, work that takes years of practice to get good at even with natural skill.

You twist to check the diagnostics window running on your bulky tablet, the cords running between it and one of your favorite droids humming with electric life. Binary flickers over the screen, replaced by strings of code as the machine parses and translates subroutines and operating systems. You squint at the glowing green letters, eyes flicking through code as you push your finger against the screen to scroll back up. You lean closer to the open cavity, flick your safety goggles down as you turn your attention back to your hands.

"I don't want to have to shut you down," You tell the droid, "So let me know if your servos start locking up." The droid gives you a thumbs up from their position on the floor.

"Isn't it safer shuttin' 'em down?" Ghost hums from the other side of the room. You ignore him, flicking the spark on your torch until it lights. You need to rewire the auxiliary movement board for the right leg, maybe reprogram the routines that are making it twitchy. You doubt anyone else noticed this bot starting to drag its foot when it walked, but you did.

"Five doesn't like being shut off," You explain, heating the metal connecting the wires to their "hip", "Says the lost time cuts productivity." Which is as close as you've ever heard a bot get to expressing an opinion. Even then saying they don't "like" being shut off is a stretch. Machines don't "like" or "dislike" anything, they simply are. You prod at the loosened wires with a pair of tweezers, pulling them from their places and examining the frayed ends. Definitely need replacing.

"Suppose I can understand that," Ghost grumbles. Again you ignore him. You don't know what he's doing, trying to bait you into a conversation or engage your curiosity, two things you can't afford when you're doing detail work. You solder the other end of the wires, rolling your shoulders to try and get some of the tightness out of them. You really should work on your posture, you're sure you look like a shrimp curled over your work, but you need the leverage.

You sit back, inspecting the freed wires, mentally tallying their length and checking the screen readouts. You set about snipping and stripping new lengths of wire, push a few buttons on your little screen, and feel your shoulders hike up to your ears as you lean to get the new parts installed. You think part of your fascination with machines comes from how repairable they are. You've long since come to terms with the fact that detaching your shoulders and giving them a good scrub down isn't actually possible. Not unless you want to look into cybernetics for yourself, and with the grade of parts the military offers you think you're better off eu natural.

"Still good five?" You ask, soldering in the new wires, you glance at the screen, watching the routines for speech zip across the green.

"Yes."

You smile to yourself. It looks like everything is running normally up top, that's reassuring. You weren't sure if this was a systematic issue or a parts issue, never know 100% until you open up whoever you're working on. You mentally scroll through your project list as you run the wires from the metal "hip" to the central data column. You scratch your tweezers against a bit of flashing, frowning. That shouldn't be there. You wave your torch over the distorted metal, and trying to find the defect. You hear a soft 'click, click, click' like nails flicking against each other as you heat the area.

You're jerked back by your collar as the bot jerks, its defensive system snapping like a bear trap over its open chest. Your heart hammers in your chest, your tools still tightly clenched in your hands, and your breath coming quick with adrenaline fueled fear. Ghost hauls you up to your feet like picking up a kitten, all titanium and inhuman strength getting you to standing. He leaves you to swipe the repair pad from the floor, the wires stringing it to the android shredded as cleanly as your neck would have been.

"Still stubborn enough to get yourself killed," He grumbles, shaking his head, the red glow of his cameras seems almost disappointed under the white skull paint. He tosses you the pad and you fumble to catch it. "Inter-system problem, shut 'em down." It's an order, his voice carrying all the authority it should as your superior officer.

You nod quickly, swallow some of the dryness in your mouth, and punch new numbers onto your little computer. "Um, thanks," You manage, watching him re-assemble his rifle with practices precision.

"Don't mention it." He replies, and you get the feeling he means that as an order too. Don't mention it, don't go spreading around that he saved your neck. Don't try to thank him again and he shoulders the rifle and pushes past you out of the landing bay.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #android!ghost #cyberpunk au #mechanic!reader

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pinkanonwrites · 3 months

Text

Repaying The Favor

G1 Rumble/ Mechanic Reader - 4600+ words NSFW, Valveplug, Miscommunication, First Time, Oral Sex, AFAB Reader - They/Them Pronouns for reader

The sequel to "Oh! That's What That Does?!" is finally here! Same reader, same Rumble, same trying to figure each other out, only this time they get to slam down crazy-style about it. When will Frenzy get his turn in the spotlight? Eventually, I think! Maybe once I've finished a few other pet projects.

NSFW WRITING BELOW THE CUT!

It had been exactly fifteen days since you had last heard from Rumble.

Not that you’d been counting.

Sure, the cassettes probably had more important things to do than lounge around your workshop waiting for your attention, but that's exactly why it was so odd. They always had better things to do, things that they were pointedly avoiding doing by barging in on your work and taking up what little free space the shop had remaining. But since your little tryst with Rumble, you hadn't seen armor nor optic of any of the usual cassette bot suspects.

Maybe you'd broken some sort of ancient, space robot taboo that you'd never heard of. Or maybe Rumble was just embarrassed that he jizzed all over your jumpsuit. Either way, it wasn't like you had any way of getting ahold of them besides them dropping in, so there wasn't much to be done about the situation but wait.

You were leaving the corner store when you heard it, the cacophonous boom of a jet flying far too close to the tips of the skyscrapers overhead. The sound sent you reeling, bags crumpling to the sidewalk as you hurried to cover your ears. Down the street you could make out the screech of metal smacking against metal, see the flailing limbs of two massive robots staggering clumsily through the street as they traded blows with each other. Neither of them were one you recognized, the red Autobot with the oversized chest window wrestling one of the identical jet Decepticons into a clumsy headlock. As they stumbled about one of them trampled on a car parked along the curb, and you winced as the metal shrieked and crumpled under his massive foot.

Yeah, time to get out of here. You gathered up your bags and ducked into the alley between the buildings, slipping past trash bags and old graffiti, trying not to tread in any unidentifiable puddles. Off in the distance you could hear an emergency siren start to wail, hopefully signaling that whatever the space robots were quarreling over this time would be settled sooner rather than later. All you really wanted was to get back home without any further interruptions.

But as you emerged from the back alley entrance and found yourself hoisted into the air by two massive metal hands around your waist, you'd decided to kiss that chance goodbye. Your bags clattered to the ground once more, bread and fruit and canned goods spilling out around a familiar pair of pedes. When you glanced up to his faceplate, the glow of his visor was nearly enough to blind you.

“Rumble?!”

His visor dimmed enough that you could see his intake, which had just before been pulled into a maniacal grin, drop open in visible shock. Then, as quick as it came, it was gone, replaced instead with a tight, furrowed frown.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” He barked.

“Buying food. Or trying to, at least.” You glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Ravage pounce on that yellow Autobot with the horns that was always showing up in the news. “You guys having a little play date or something?”

He scoffed out a laugh, quickly stifling it with a clearing of his vents. “Whatsit matter to ya? Didn't think you cared dat much about lil’ old me.”

“Rumble, what…?” Was he seriously pouting? Or maybe trying to guilt trip you? For what, making him cum? “What are you even talking about? I haven't seen you in like, two weeks.”

“Aww, real funny! You know what I mean! I let you poke around in my chassis and run up my charge, an’ after that it's radio silence? Whaddya humans call it… ghosting? Make a mech feel like second-rate shareware, why don't ya?”

You blinked at him once, twice, mind spinning as you tried to process his words.

“Are you- are you mad I didn't call you?”

His optic lights beamed as he bristled, armor flaring with a hiss before clamping tight back to his frame. “I told you to comm me!”

“Rumble, I don't have your number! I couldn't call you even if I wanted to!”

His grip went slightly slack as he stared at you, leaving you dangling from your armpits like a cat.

“I… I hailed you my frequency. In da EM field.”

“Humans don't have… whatever that is. Do you have a phone number?”

He stared at you again, much longer this time as the discordant crashing of giant metal men continued in the background. Then, with a sudden jolt, you were slipping free of his fingers as he dropped you unceremoniously to the pavement. It wasn't a far fall, just enough to make your feet tingle upon landing. When you looked up you saw he had both servos covering his faceplate, a string of muffled curses eking out between the digits.

Your mind was reeling. He actually wanted you to call him? To… repay the favor? Heat pooled in the pit if your stomach as your mind conjured up wicked memories of his stifled gasps and whimpers, how he’d squirmed beneath you as you prodded around his spark chamber. How behind all the billowing and smashing and Brooklyn-accented bravado, when you got down to the core of him, he was actually kind of… cute.

“You- just- I don’t- Get outta here! Go on, scram! Before you get stomped on or somethin’!” His face plate was flushed and glowing as he shooed at you. You would go, that was certain, you really didn't want to get stepped on after all. But first you were going to say something potentially risky, deeply embarrassing, and undoubtedly very, very stupid.

“Come over.”

His optics shuttered, flickering for a moment as he stared down at you, frozen.

“What?”

“Not right now. Tonight. When you guys are done getting wailed on? Come over.”

He opened his intake, then closed it. When he opened it a second time you caught a wisp of steam slipping through the gap in his dentae. He swallowed, hard. He never stopped staring at you.

“...Y-Yeah. Yeah. Awright. I'll be there.”

“Cool. Watch out for the yellow guy.”

“Huh-HGGRRK!?!” You stumbled back a few steps just in time for the Autobot to chuck Ravage directly into Rumble’s helm, sending him crashing into the brick wall beside you.

“Sorry! Are you alright?” The little Autobot called. “You should probably get out of here!”

He didn't have to tell you twice.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The news was just wrapping up their coverage on the ‘latest Decepticon assault’ when you heard a rap on your warehouse’s roll-up door. There wasn't much to see peering out the window, the street only haphazardly illuminated by old street lights. Not that you really needed to look, there was only one guest you were expecting at this time of night anyway.

You'd stopped at home first, mainly to take a shower and put on something that wasn’t a pair of mechanic’s overalls. But for some reason the nerves hadn't hit you until right now. You clamped down on the prickle of… anxiety? Excitement? Somewhere between the two? As you pulled the strap at the base of the roll-up, the groan of shifting metal slowly gave way to reveal…

“Are you wearing a bowtie?”

“Not bad, eh? Don't say I never cleaned up or nothin’. Here.” As Rumble stepped from the dark street into the light of the warehouse he pulled something from his subspace: a large, green bottle that he offered to you pinched between two fingers. A bottle of wine. Judging by the label, an expensive bottle of wine.

“Where did you get this?” You turned the bottle over twice in your grip, scanning the details on the back. French Merlot, aged… fifteen years? Holy shit.

“Dat fancy Italian place on the corner of Fourth and Vine! What, ya don't like it?”

“I didn't say that!” Rumble positively beamed as you clutched the bottle. “I just didn't expect it, is all. Are you… wining and dining me right now?”

“Is dat a good thing or a bad thing? Your human movies said you’re ‘sposed to bring a little somethin’ somethin’ before, y’know,” There was a sly, lopsided charm to his grin as he pulled the roll-up back down with his pede, clanking shut behind him, “Before you let me run your charge for a change.”

“You know, you don't have to try so hard to im…press… me.” You trailed off, staring down at the bottle in your hands, then back up to him, then back at the bottle, then him again. When you made eye contact with him the slyness seemed to falter a bit, leaving behind something softer in his smile. Something a little more vulnerable.

How did it take this long for it to click for you? He was wearing a bowtie, for Christ’s sake.

“Oh my God you're trying to impress me.”

“Eh?” A fidgeting servo tugged at his bowtie- which appeared to be made of… an old seatbelt? “Nah, you're crazy! Dis is jus’ what humans are ‘sposed to do!”

“Oh my God you are!”

“H-Hey, what'd I say about you and gettin’ big ideas?” He tried to deter you, but your mind was already racing a mile a minute.

“Do you actually like me? Like, want to date me? Do alien robots even date, cause I didn't know th- MMPH!”

With a massive metal palm pressed to your chest, Rumble pushed you back into your adjustable work table, still sitting at a mostly upright angle from the last time you'd repaired him. The table against your back was cold, a sharp contrast to the radiating heat from his servo as he pinned you in place with his hand. His face was inches from yours as he leaned over you, visor now gleaming with frustration and embarrassment.

“You can't get enough of dis, huh? Like pushin’ my buttons so much?” His servo pinned you down just a touch harder, forcing the air from your lungs in a breathy wheeze. “‘Oh, it's so fun to get Rumble all flustered! Lemme mess wit’ his head a lil more!’ Well maybe it’s Ol’ Rumble’s turn to do da messin’ around, huh? See how you like it when someone’s toyin’ with your sensitive bits.”

He bared his dentae as he spoke, another hiss of steam curling around your cheeks. It made your hair stand on end. A hot thrill ran through you, and you fought the urge to let your knees knock together, confident that Rumble would be able to keep you in place with brute strength alone. You could feel his thumb smoothing back and forth across your shirt, and as he glanced down at his servo the glare of his visor lessened slightly.

“...Why’s your fuel pump goin’ all crazy? You scared or somethin’?”

You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, willing your foggy mind to function. “Not… Not scared, exactly.”

There were a few seconds of tense silence, before the wickedest, prideful grin crept back up across his faceplate.

“Oh? Is dat so?” His other servo rose to grip the top edge of the table, fingers molding to fit the dent he’d left there previously as he loomed over you. “Well maybe we oughta do somethin’ about tha- SCRAP!”

His flirtations were cut short by the sharp SNAP of the stabilizing lock on your workbench failing under Rumble’s weight and flipping 180 degrees over. The world pitched and spun as you tumbled backwards, yelping as the table flipped and deposited you upside-down on the floor, legs sticking akimbo in the air. From between your dangling feet you could see Rumble peering over you with his sly expression wiped off his visor by one of concern.

“Slag! I didn't crush your little pedes when you flipped, did I? Cause I don't no nothin’ about fixin’ up injured squishies.”

Miraculously, you had managed to make it through that ass-over-elbow fall without hitting your head on anything, or Rumble accidentally pinning your legs in place between his bulk and the table frame. “I’m alright! Just didn't expect it, I’m okay.”

“Dat’s good. Here lemme jus’-” You felt a servo close around each of your ankles. With an effortless tug Rumble dragged you back up, tabletop tipping with you as it clunked back into its standard, flat position. Of course, this now left you with your ass and legs dangling off the edge of the workbench, Rumble standing between them with a servo resting on each knee. “Better?”

You sucked in a breath, trying desperately not to look overeager. “Better.”

“Ah, slaggit all…” But instead of putting his servos back on you (where you most certainly wanted them) Rumble began to scratch at the back of his neck, failing to meet your gaze. “Guess I ain't really cut out for all this… whaddaya call it? ‘Winin’ and dinin’?’ Can't even get my servos on ya without fraggin’ it up.”

“Hey, I’m definitely not complaining.” You attempted a jokey tone, but it didn't seem to do much to dampen Rumble’s current self-deprecation. You let the playful edge fall away as you dropped into something a bit softer. “I mean it though. You don't have to try to impress me. I mean it's appreciated! But, y’know, I wouldn't have agreed to this if I wasn't already happy with the bot I was getting into it with.”

“Heh. Even if I end up crushin’ you a bit?”

“That's a risk I'm willing to take.”

He barked out another laugh, accompanied by a coil of thin steam hissing through his gap-dentae. “Well I guess I better make it worth da risk, shouldn't I?”

He snuck a servo under each of your knees, pushing them apart as he rocked his modesty panel against your clothed core. You stifled a gasp, the ridge of sturdy metal almost hot against you, even through layers of cotton and denim. The slow roll of his hips made your own stutter up off of the table, desperate for further friction.

“Cute. You like grindin’ on my panel? Should I make you bust jus’ like this?”

Despite the warm curl of arousal pooling in your stomach from the feeling, you knew this wouldn't be enough to get you off. Rumble seemed to know it too, letting out a low, pleased chuckle at your desperate expression.

“Jus’ yankin’ yer crankcase, sweetspark. I got somethin’ a lot more fun in mind for tonight anyway. Dat is, if you'll start gettin’ dese off.” He hooked a digit through your belt loop and gave them an experimental tug.

“Mmh, what, you don’t want to take them off yourself?”

“Oh, I’ll gladly take ‘em off ya. Just figured you’d take care of dis part here…” His thick digits slid inward, ghosting over the button of your jeans. “So I don't gotta rip ‘em off ya instead.”

You weighed your options. On one hand, the image of Rumble tearing denim apart with his bare servos as if it was no more than wet tissue paper was far more appealing to you than you would have originally expected. On the other hand… well, they were new jeans.

“I got it.” You mumbled, quietly filing the image away in your brain for later use as you undid your button and zipper. “Careful with th- Oh!”

With a sharp yank, Rumble tugged your jeans and underwear off your legs and let them crumple onto the floor. Shoving himself into the space between your knees, you could only barely make out the top of his helm over the slope of your stomach as he knelt before you, spreading your folds with two digits and… staring.

You waited for a response, a quip, the slow drag of metal over your slick hole, but were instead greeted with silence. Something prickled in the pit of your stomach as you fought the urge to squirm. In the back of your mind you vaguely remembered that you hadn't really gotten to see what Rumble was packing, and only now were you grappling with the truth that you were trying to have sex with a truly alien being. Would your bodies even be compatible? Was he weirded out right now? You tried to pull your knees together, only to be stopped by a rough servo shoving them back open.

“...It's rude to stare.” You muttered.

“EY! I ain't starin’! I'm, uh, admirin’. Dat’s it.” There was a similar tightness to Rumble’s voice. You shuddered as a thumb stroked the crease of your thigh. “Soft… An’ it's supposed to be dat pink?”

“Y-Yeah… that's, mmh, normal.” You shuddered at a wave of steam curling over your sensitive heat as he spread you again, visor locked on your twitching entrance.

“Primus. And you're really gonna let me spike ya in this tiny little hole?” You could feel his thumb just brushing the rim and stifled a groan at the sudden, aching emptiness, the demand to be filled. “I don't wanna tear you in half or nothin’.”

“It’ll fit.” You whined, core tensing around nothing. “We’re, unh, we’re pretty flexible. C’mon, Rumble…” You forced your knees further apart, pushing your hips up into each of Rumble's far-too-light touches. His motor snarled in response, a massive hand gripping the inside of each of your thighs.

“Slag. You're really achin’ for it, aren’tcha?” His voice was lower than you'd ever heard it before, deep and resonant and primal. “But I ain't gonna give it to ya dat easy, doll. Gotta make sure you can take it first.”

He raised his helm for just a moment, just enough for you to get a peek of his beaming visor and his wicked, gap-toothed grin between your legs. Then he descended, lathing his thick, hot glossa up the length of your cunt. You choked on a gasp, his servos the only thing keeping your hips from rabbiting up off the table. It was hot, his glossa thick and sturdy and drooling with oral lubricant, a thin layer of silicon over sturdier metal mesh dragging up through your folds.

“Easy, sweetspark…” You weren't the only one enjoying themselves. Rumble's low, rattling groan pulsed through your cunt. You swore you could just barely make out him groaning your name but it was lost, muffled as he pressed his faceplate further between your legs and his servos shivered where they gripped your thighs. He was messy and all too eager, arousal and oral lubricant spilling down his chin as his glossa stroked you; slow, deliberate drags up your folds until you were left dripping. At the apex he found your clit and took it between his dermas, a teasing hum rattling throughout his engine that had you gasping, thighs clenching around his thick helm. Your legs jerked as warmth bloomed outward from your core, hips writhing against the onslaught of pleasure. Dragging across his back your heel caught in a rounded divot, pulling a raggedy vent through Rumble’s dentae as his frame twitched.

“”Mmpfh!~ E-Ey, watch da spindle. It’s sensitive in dere…” He groaned, face still pressed into your cunt, servos only dragging your ass further off the table in his efforts to get somehow even closer to you. But instead you dug your heel in harder, pressing into the ridged divot and twisting your leg. The internal ring jerked with a sudden CLICK CLICK CLICK, each pop of noise making Rumble’s frame spasm like he'd just been electrocuted. “FRAG! Primus, that’s- ghh!~”

“Feel good?” You teased, breathless. His optics beamed back up at you, an oscillating, glistening red as you caught another peek of his gap-toothed grin from between your legs.

“So dat’s how you wanna play dis? Don't say I didn't warn ya, doll.”

You barely had a chance to respond before the noise was punched out of your lungs in a sharp whine as Rumble shoved a thick, metal digit into your drooling cunt. Achingly hard, unrelenting, he flexed it against your rippling walls as his dermas nestled themselves snugly around your clit. The hum reverberating through his frame coursed through your body like a wave, hands scrabbling desperately at his helm as the twinge of pain at the sudden intrusion melted into thick, syrupy pleasure.

“A-ah, fuck! Rumble, Rumble that's good, that's fucking good.~” Metal clanged as you lolled your head back against the table top, no longer able to keep it upright. Each drag of his digit, textured and ridged and unrelenting, sparked euphoria behind your eyelids. You felt every muscle in your body starting to prickle with pleasure, radiating outwards from your cunt and pooling in your head, your stomach, the tips of your toes…

You all but whined when he drew his digit away, dermas releasing your swollen clit with a slick pop. “C’mon! Rumble!”

“You want it dat bad, huh?” A shadow cast over your rumpled form as Rumble rose to his full height. From between your legs you could catch a glimpse of silver and blue panels fluttering and folding away, one of Rumble’s servos hiking the underside of your knee and the other stroking the gap between his thigh and pelvic armor as his spike rose to full attention. Christ, he was huge, the thick metal rod draped across your lower stomach as he rocked experimentally against you. Each thrust had the tip drooling a translucent, pinkish fluid you remembered scrubbing from the back of your jumpsuit, hot and vaguely smelling of well-oiled machinery and pooling across your bare stomach.

Rumble, for his part, seemed to be as entranced as you felt, visor vibrant and flickering as he stared down at the place his frame rubbed against your soft, supple body. A harsh ex-vent punctuated each roll of his hips, steam coiling around the corners of his slack, open intake as he pulled back, letting the tip of his spike slide wetly through your folds.

“Dat’s it, doll… You're gonna get exactly what you want. Gonna get you bouncin’ on dis spike, jus’ beggin’ for it…” His tone was low, entranced, just barely tinged with desperation. He dragged his tip through your folds again, and again, covering your cunt with his thick transfluid, making your breath hitch whenever he slid over your clit just right. You angled your hips up, guiding it right over your entrance, toes curling at the promise of pressure.

But before you could utter his name again, or any other placation or demand, you felt the heavy press, the slow, aching slide as he entered you. It teetered just on the edge of pain, muscles twinging at your inner thighs as you forced your legs wider to accommodate his bulky armor. And his spike offered just as little give, covered with a thin layer of silicon like his glossa but still distinctly sturdy, inflexible metal. Your walls rippled helplessly around the intrusion, stretched to a delicious degree as he bullied his way inside you.

About halfway to being fully sheathed in your heat he paused, visor hazy and unfocused, intake still hanging open as he vented steam. A servo was resting on each of your hips, but while one stayed in place the other slid up, up, bunching your shirt around his digits and shoving it up above your chest. There his servo paused on your side, his massive thumb stroking back and forth over your nipple, quickly pebbling under the cool metal.

“Primus.” He breathed, distinctly softer than you ever remember hearing him before (and oh, if that didn't do just as much for your arousal as everything else). Finally, his hips began to move again, that intoxicating ache only beginning to border on near-unbearable when you could feel your ass and the backs of your thighs smushed against his pelvic armor. For another moment he paused, one servo cradling your hip and the other your chest.

Then he drew back, and thrust home.

The first thrust forced the air out of you in a desperate, sharp wheeze. This didn’t slow him, not in the slightest, digits sinking into the plush meat of your hip as he jackhammered into you. Each thrust had the entire table rattling, the sharp clang of metal against metal where his thighs hit the dented table’s edge. His quiet reverence had given way to an onslaught of erotic babble, visor locked on your face as it twisted and furrowed in pleasure.

“Takin’ it so fraggin well… You’re just made for takin’ my spike, aren’tcha?” He scooped his servo under your hip and lifted you further up, all but folding you in half as he loomed over you. His dermas brushed the curve of your jaw, just below your ear, and you could feel the heat of his ex-vent making your skin tingle. “You’ve jus’ been waitin’ for me to frag you stupid, plug up that achin’ valve til you can’t think of nothin’ else.”

“Mmmh…~ It’s so big.” You slurred, thighs slick with sweat and slipping on his plating as you struggled to lock your ankles in the small of his back. His frame shivered like an electric current ran through it, clutching you somehow even closer to his massive chassis.

“Nghh…~ Yeah? You love dis fat spike, don’tcha? Say it.”

“I love it!~”

“You want me to spill my load in this tight little valve, don’tcha?”

“Please!”

“Aghh, slag! Y-You’re gonna get it, sweetspark. You’re gonna take it all, j-just-mmfh!~” His vents were ragged and desperate, thrusts stuttering as he neared his release. You squealed as his thumb found your clit, rubbing the swollen bud in rough, tight circles. Euphoria was buzzing throughout your body, the ache of your lower back buried beneath the onslaught of pleasure and heat coiling in the pit of your stomach and blooming out through your limbs, legs shaking, hands trembling.

Sparks exploded behind your eyelids as your orgasm washed over you, hips jerking weakly against Rumble’s. There was no give to his spike at all, thick and steady and unyielding as your pussy squeezed and pulsed around it. You felt a flood of something molten spill into your core, filling you nearly to the point of aching as it spilled out around the tight ring of your hole around his base. Rumble’s frame stuttered, jittering, a harsh crackle of static and mechanical chatter pouring from his drooling intake where it was still buried in the crook of your neck. Finally, finally, his frame grew still. The only noise between the two of you were your shared, harsh breaths and the low churn of the occasional car driving past outside.

“Mmmmnnghh…” Rumble groaned, shifting his hips to pull his shrinking spike from your core as he rose unsteadily back to an upright position. You could feel transfluid dribbling from your hole as he tucked himself back away- thick, translucent globs spilling down the insides of your thighs and hitting the floor with a splatter. His engine gave a little, stuttering snarl despite himself as he dragged his digit tips through the shimmering line along one of your inner thighs. “I oughta take a picture of dis…”

“Don’t you dare.” You kicked weakly at his servo, legs now tingling with static as blood rushed back to them. He barked out a sharp laugh, effortlessly batting your foot aside. His servo rested atop your lower stomach and gave a teasing press, and you shivered as more globs of thick transfluid drooled from your cunt. “Jerk.”

“Eyy, you love it!”

“Unfortunately.” There was no real bite to your tone, you could tell by the way Rumble grinned. “Think you can give me a hand getting over to the bathroom before my knees give out?”

“Depends. Does dat count as you owin’ me a favor?”

#transformers #transformers x reader #x reader #rumble #rumble x reader #tf rumble #g1 rumble #valveplug #long post #my writing #nsft

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hitomisuzuya · 3 months

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PLEASEEE do something with scaras robot. Idc what. Jus t pleassee i need to smash the robot 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Fingering. Degradation. Praise. God complex Scara. Masturbation. Filthy stuff with his mech's fingers. Incredibly self indulgent.

I was blushing the whole time I wrote this.

"Scara, I don't see the screw you said you tossed over here," There was just something always so sweet and delicate about you, especially when you were trying to help him with something.

"It's over there, just keep looking," Scaramouche said nonchalantly through the speaking mechanism in his mech. He sat back, rolling the screw in question around in the palm of his hand. You couldn't see his smirk of course.

Honestly, he just wanted to watch you bend over, giving him a tempting view of your ass and a panty peek thanks to your skirt.

"I wonder if it ricocheted over there somewhere," Scaramouche watched you on the camera walk a few steps away, humming softly and playing with your lower lip with your fingers as you bent over to search again.

You deserved a reward for looking so delicately arousing.

"Huh?" You felt the hand of his mech wrap around you and lift you up towards the cockpit. The gap between you and ground for wider as the fingers of his mech turned you around so you were facing the cockpit.

Scaramouche brought the other arm of his mech around, and you felt the chilly metal of the tip of his fingers trail up your thigh. He laughed softly when you saw you shiver as goosebumps dotted your skin.

"Forget about the screw. I found something I want to play with," The fingers of the hand that was wrapped around you were long enough for him to extend one to rub the tip teasing over your nipple outside your shirt.

You looked a little nervously down at the finger sliding further up your thigh. You couldn't help the flush that coated your cheeks, your nervous laugh sounding more like an aroused moan.

"Sc-Scara, I don't even if it will fi.." Your words were cut off as another finger helped pinch your nipple, feeling chilly metal graze your clit outside of your rapidly dampening panties.

To Scaramouche, you looked like a defenseless little doll in the hand of his mech. He smirked wider when your moans rose in octave, grinding needily against the mech's finger.

He rubbed circles on your clit, making your panties cling soaked to your cunt. You started to shake the more your clit swelled and throbbed. He kept this up for a few minutes, teasing and rolling your nipple between his mech's fingers.

You were panting quietly by the time Scaramouche took it off your clit. He laughed again seeing the shiny sheen of your slick on it. "Look at you quiver. And you are so wet to. Open your mouth and stick out your tongue."

His commanding tone made you shiver. He put the tip of the finger on your tongue when you did as you were told. He licked his lips, groaning as he watched your tongue lick and lap around it.

Scaramouche knew how much you worshipped his fingers. His mech's fingers were technically his fingers as well in a way. "You've thought about this, hm?" He purred, rubbing the finger on your tongue.

"Mhm," You moaned, your tongue lingering as long as it could on the mech's finger as he pulled it away. A line of drool connected it your tongue.

He plucked your clothes off, dropping them onto the palm. He'd come up with a rather unique way for you to worship his mech's fingers to.

You gasped as the finger connected with your bare and now drooling cunt. He gathered your slick on it, rubbing the knuckle against your clit. Slowly, he pushed the finger up inside of you.

You squirmed a little as your walls stretched apart, pleasure suddenly bursting through you as it rested against your sweet spot. "Ah, God! Fuck!" You cried out, your hips jerking and rolling into the finger, "Please!"

"That's right, slut. Cry out for your God," Scaramouche palmed and rubbed his cock before taking it out to fist it to the sight of your cunt drooling on his mech's fingers as he slowly thrust it in and out of you.

"Scaramouche! My God, please! Stretch me apart more!" You nearly screamed in pleasure as he increased the pace of the finger. He moved the thumb up to rub over your clit, pinching the head of his cock as your legs started to shake.

"Is my pathetic little fuck toy going to cum?" He taunted, sensing you were about to cum when the urgency of your hips fucking onto the finger increased. He pushed it a little deeper inside of you, enjoying the way your strangled cry of pleasure made his cock throb more.

Scaramouche was fast making you fall apart. It was hard for you to even catch your breath as jolts of pleasure rocked through your body.

"Ah, God..Scara..I.." Any attempt to form coherent words failed, coming out in high pitched whimpers and moans.

Hearing you call him God first made cum rope onto his hand, his own moans filling the cockpit. You sounded so pretty babbling it while tears fell from your pretty eyes. "Fucking cum, slut. Show me how much you are enjoying this."

It was a command your body couldn't refuse. One more delicious nudge of his mech's finger into your sweep spot ushered in your orgasm, your slick dripping down the finger as you shook from the intensity.

"What a good girl," Scaramouche purred, "Look how pretty you look all fucked out," He kept the finger inside of you, making your walls squeeze around it as the thumb strokes your clit, nursing you through your orgasm.

"You'd like your God's cum now, wouldn't you?" He pulled the finger out of you, dropping you onto the palm. The door of the cock pit opened up so he could come and carry you into the cock pit.

He knew you wouldn't be able to stand.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you

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onlyyvette · 4 months

Text

TF Titty Headcanons Pt. 1

❏* — warnings — sub/bottom characters(autobots) + dom/top reader + robo titties(duh) + nipple piercings + lactation + breastfeeding kink + rough sex + degradation + praise + breeding kink + heat cycles + i love giving them sappy nicknames + prowl needs his own warning

❏* — a/n — if I have to be plagued with horny thoughts then you guys will suffer too

also, I'm willing to take more requests on which characters(especially decepticons) I should do for part 2 ^-^

➾ AUTOBOTS

✦ Optimus - As the leader of the autobots and one of the last living Primes, it shouldn't come as any surprise that Optimus is well-endowed. His tits are large and bouncy— they defy gravity in every sexy way possible. The Prime's chest is a white-ish color, plush and pillowy, a perfect to touch and perfect to cuddle. Before becoming a Prime, his boobs were already big but now, they produce mineral-rich energon. He sometimes finds himself upgrading his chassis armor because his tits often press up on his windshields, sometimes popping his chassis armor. On rare occasions, he might even be lactating— It's very distracting, and he always gives embarrassed yet wholehearted apologies whenever his fellow autobots are met(blessed) with the sight. It might even happen that one of the decepticons he meets on the battlefield start tripping over themselves as they gawk at his chest. Optimus lets out low, silky moans whenever his tits are fondled, his audials twitching with sensitivity. He's very open about his tits. He has no problem with his berth partners wanting to grope them, even suckle on them. If his partner wanted to, he would absolutely let them lay him out on his spinal strut just to fondle and suck on his nozzles, drawing out any energon they can find. It's a bit embarrassing for Optimus to admit, but it's not too hard for him to overload just from having his refineries played with. All Optimus needs is the feeling of having servos grabbing his plush chest and constantly rubbing his nozzles, maybe even his partner clamping their dentae down hard on his nozzle for him to let out undignified sounds and squirting all over himself. As much as Optimus enjoys having warm servos massage his tits with care, his moans go up a pitch when his tits are bruised and left with marks from sharp dentae. Whether his partner apologizes for their rough treatment or not, they definitely knew that the Prime got a little wetter from it.

✦ Ratchet - Ratchet has huge tits and I will die on that hill. No doubt about it. Ratty's tits are a dark gray, matching his faceplate. They're big and hefty, hard for a mech of even his size to cup them fully into their hands. While he would rather die than admit it, he definitely loves to have his tits played with. As a medic, Ratty's boobs produce much more energon than your regular cybertronian, which causes him to need to milk them often. Whenever he starts producing extra energon, it's always a pain to deal with because it leaves his poor tits swollen, nearly pressing up against his windshield, and so sensitive when he ends up leaking energon. It's so hard for him to milk his tits on his own so whenever he's at his most frustrated and sensitive state, he has to begrudgingly go to another trusted mech for help. Even though he insists on it being strictly professional, his cute whimpers and the dark blush on his face always betrays his neediness. During the war, Ratty was definitely known for not only being the best medic Cybertron has seen, but the medic with tits that make the sweetest tasting energon. Whenever he's treating his patients, almost all of them ask if he could provide some energon for them with his generous breasts. Even though they try their best to be subtle about it(except for the most shameless mechs), Ratchet always knows their reasons, but he'll still provide it anyway because it's in his nature to help others. He just has to make sure not to get release his panel and reveal his already drooling valve during the feeding, which is going to be really tough for him.

✦ Drift/Deadlock - Drift's tits aren't the biggest but not the smallest(definitely bigger than Rodimus' though) , but there's still nothing about them that you can't love. His protoform there is a darker color just like his faceplate, and sometimes flushes a cute pinkish color. Drifty has very sensitive tits and will let out a little squeal if they're groped too roughly. He's not too keen on showing his chest to anybot, especially when he still went by Deadlock, due to his more private nature. But when he has a partner to show them off, they are one lucky mech. Whenever someone is mindful with how they treat Drifty's tits, massaging them softly, rubbing their digits over his nozzles with practiced care, he absolutely melts in pleasure. He lets out small eeks of pleasure while his finials twitch in response to the stimulation, his frame shivering like a turbo-rabbit . His whines and slight pouts are so attractive whenever his tits are played with. Drifty tries so hard to seem like he's unaffected but it's so hard for him to do when both his faceplate and his tits are both flushed pink with energon. When he was known as Deadlock, even in bed, he would be known for being feisty and a little too eager to bite. But the moment servos are on his tits and slowly groping them, he gives up all resistance and tries his best to stop the little moans threatening to come out from his vocalizer. He'll still have a look that screams "make fun of me about this and the last thing you'll see will be my gun" but it'll be softened by his half-shuttered optics and and his breathy whines tumbling from his intake.

✦ Rodimus - definitely has small tits. And he is proud of them!!! He loves to show off his tits to his partners in berth and has possibly opened up his chestplate to show them off to any crewmates that flatter him enough more than once, maybe even let them cop a feel. His boobs are a white color similar to his faceplate. He has very perky nozzles and he will whimper when they're tugged on. Even though his tits are smaller than the average cybertronian's, they're still just so adorable, especially with the way his nozzles slightly flush blue when he's aroused. Roddy knows that people are into his tits and he uses it to his advantage. Whenever Magnus is boring him to death with reports on ship maintenance or whatever, he shoves the datapad or anything that Magnus is holding in his servos, brings the huge mech's helm down to his level, and pushes his tits into Magnus' face with a cute little "ta-da!". There isn't much to push into the big mech's face but nonetheless, it's effective. He would giggle a bit and ask Mags if he liked his tits and Rodimus is left with a short-circuiting Ultra Magnus to explain to everyone. He's tried that move on Megatron too, but it's sadly not as effective on him, though the ex-warlord definitely does enjoy the view.

✦ Prowl - This praxian definitely has huge tits-- that's what his bumper is for. Now his bumper is great and Prowl definitely carries it with pride, but his titties are the real star of the show. His protoform are a dark gray compared to his faceplate. Unlike most mechs, Prowler has custom nozzle piercings: a pair of gold piercings(they cost him a mean amount of credits) and a pair of silver hoops. He switches between pairs each day. They're so big that he sometimes has a bit of trouble transforming his bumper over them. He loves to tug on them while he fingers himself silly because the pain is so delicious that even a few tugs can get his pathetic spike overloading and his messy valve squirting. While Prowler berths very few partners, he loves to get his tits fucked by a spike big enough to reach past his cleavage and into his open mouth. Whenever his partner tugs on his nozzle piercings while fucking his tits and hisses out some degrading words, Prowl's vocalizer lets out a whoreish squeal-- he probably overloaded right then and there. Prowl for sure loves his titties. He may not be on Starscream's level of narcissism(no one can reach his level), but he sometimes like to check himself out in a mirror or camera to admire his busty chest, groping himself and gently tugging on his piercings as he begins to pant and his fans click on. It's at times like this that he often dreams about being subjected to obscenely kinky scenarios: his tits being bitten down on harshly as he's forced to continue riding his partner's monstrous length, his partner hooking up pumps to his nozzles to activate his energon lactation and leave him hooked up with multiple vibrators stuffed up his valve and aft and left overloading silly for hours, or being left in a dirty alley during his heat cycle, all his panels open while he drips energon from his tits and his pussy leaks lubricant all over the ground as he's left in a spike-hungry state, just about willing to let anyone fuck him as long as they'll ruin his pussy and fill his gestation tank with transfluid.

#vetty's works. ✿#vetty's thirsts. ✿#dom reader #top reader #transformers #transformers x reader #valveplug #maccadam #optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #transformers ratchet #ratchet x reader #transformers drift #drift x reader #rodimus #rodimus x reader #transformers prowl #prowl x reader

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