#AHAHAHA OKAY APPARENTLY THIS TURNED INTO A DRABBLE OOPS

[petrichorium]

i will always support u making my posts about robot fucking

I was thinking abt soundwave in particular and how it starts with pure curiosity. You’re so soft and pliable, and every part of you is so sensitive. He has to be so gentle but it’s downright hypnotizing to prod at you and feel the soft give of your fragile flesh. You give him bared dentae and pouting dermas (teeth, humans call them. Lips. Odd little organics with strange terms that somehow suit your familiar-yet-foreign features) but they'd take more damage than they could possibly give if you attempted to use them on him, so it’s cute more than anything else.

Cuter still are the sounds you make. Piercing shrieks and little wobbles to the words of your empty threats only get louder and more shrill when his servos press against certain areas—the sides and front of your chest, the line of your neck where it throbs with life, the bottoms of your minuscule pedes. And then he discovers the noises he can pull from your lips when his digits slide between your legs.

You're so tiny, easy to squeeze too hard, so he decides his probes are better to use than his sharp digits. They hold you down as he watches, stoic and unmoving, no matter how much you squirm and thrash. That little bud swells to attention beneath the cool touch of his feelers and your protests give way to the prettiest pleading until something breaks and suddenly you're sobbing, optics glistening with fluid, dainty arms clutching at his probe for support rather than to push away. An overload, surely, or whatever your kind's version of such a thing would possibly be; despite himself, Soundwave finds himself preening at the idea. He keeps going past countless peaks and crashes until your voice has gone hoarse—keeps going beyond that, because you’re giving him different noises now and he’s not about to miss out on everything he can possibly pull from you. He doesn't stop until you've gone completely limp and he realizes your weak little body has been forced into that pesky recharge state that humans require so pitifully often. You're lucky he finds your noises compelling enough that he bothered to request one of those soft berths your kind prefers.

You aren't nearly as thankful as he deserves. You test his patience, days spent being fussy and uncooperative until you manage to tuck yourself away in a corner too small for him to pry you out without harm, and that's when he loses enough patience to forego the niceties. He plays the recordings you didn't even realize he took—your breathy moans and choked-off whines, every sob and keen and heave that now lives safely tucked away in his memory banks for him to peruse whenever he so pleases. He can't see you from where you cower, but he can sense how your faceplate heats up and hear the increasingly rapid pattering of your tiny organic heart, and though your alien body cannot generate the emfs his kind uses for their most intimate form of communication his own spark stutters with a wicked kind of excitement at your instinctive reaction.

His fortitude, after all, will prove much stronger than your obstinance. You'll emerge from your cold little nest and welcome his beckoning servo soon enough.

[boku-no-headcannons]

Kiribaku ‘drabble-’ “Unspoken”

Bakugou had a thing for redheads, that much he’s willing to (reluctantly) admit.

Then again, that’s not to say that he appreciates every time Ochako and Todoroki give him a knowing look when simply any redhead walks in. What do they take him for? A fucking protozoan? He had standards dammit. Just because Todoroki was a half-redhead doesn’t mean he wanted to get in his pants (plus, that half white hair immediately disqualified him from being a redhead.)

There was someone specific he was looking for anyways.

At the end of the year, everyone who had turned eighteen received a hint as to who exactly their soulmate was. For Bakugou, he was told that his soulmate had the same colour of hair as his eyes, which sort of led the current redhead situation. When their soulmate was found, it would unlock the ability to communicate mentally. Bakugou was more excited about the Doctor Strange telepathy shit that he was promised with to say the least. The possibilities were endless.

“Bakugou!” Todoroki called out to him. “I’m going to take a break. You and Ochako are in charge of the front.”

“What about Deku?” Ochako asked.

“He’s out,” was the only response they got before he walked away.

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “They’re going to make out in the break room.”

“Um what?!” Ochako exclaimed. “How the hell do you know this?”

“Deku’s skin colour is off around his neck, and he was rubbing that area a bit earlier. Oh and the fact that they always take breaks together, alone,” he said factually, even a little bit bored.

“Well, see, I think I would’ve been okay with a blatant lie, but really, you can be honest to a fault sometimes.” She walked over to the register, shaking her head slightly. “Really Bakugou…”

He turned away to go wash his hands in the sink. “Well, it’s your fucking problem isn’t it?” Before Ochako could respond, Bakugou could hear the door open. He decided not to interrupt her as she dealt with the the customer.

“Hi! What can I get you today?” Ochako said brightly.

“White hot chocolate, oh, and with extra whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon!”

Ah, it was this type of customer again. The ones who didn’t mind if they died from a sweetness overload cause they’re too busy on their sugar high to notice. Then again, Bakugou once dumped six shots of caffeine in one sitting into his black coffee to stay awake for another day after only having 2 hours of sleep between 72 hours (although “once” is the lie there). So really, he couldn’t talk.

He got started as Ochako rang up the customer’s total. Bakugou felt the person staring at him, but ducked his head and kept working, trying not to make eye contact. He didn’t really want another person trying to flirt with him as he was doing his job. Luckily for him, he had successfully pulled it off, but he didn’t finish fast enough to pass the drink off to the customer before they left the counter area, which meant he had to go to their table and deliver it in person- a job that he hated to do himself.

“You should take this one. There’s no way I’m allowing you to push off this job to me.” She poked him in the side, looking over as Bakugou added a tiny snowflake on top (his signature.) “He’s a redhead!”

And of course he fucking was.

Bakugou tried to suppress the urge to eyeroll and instead, used a couple of seconds to narrow in on the guy in question. He sat alone at a table for two, staring out the window and ignoring his phone on the table. An army jacket lined with fleece hung on the back of his chair, and one of arms draped casually over the top of the chair. Black sweatshirt and folded jeans… Bakugou had to admit: this guy could dress well.

Okayy, but, for all he knew, this redhead could easily be there waiting for someone. So… Bakugou supposed there wasn’t any harm in bring this guy a drink right? Since it was simply part of his job, it should be fine. And if they happened to spark up a conversation, well, Bakugou didn’t think he would completely be opposed to that.

So he did exactly that.

“You’re the worst,” Bakugou muttered to Ochako as he walked out from behind the counter.

“I’ll be cheering for you,” she mock-whispered to him, giving a small thumbs up as he left.

Several steps later, he found himself at the redhead’s table, completely and utterly unprepared to start a civil conversation (clearly a normality with someone like Bakugou apparently.)

“Here’s your drink,” he said awkwardly, sounding as if he was angry, although he really wasn’t. “For um,” Bakugou looked at the side of the cup, forgetting that Ochako had written the name on the side when she passed it to him, “Kirishima?”

Kirishima turned his head and looked at Bakugou. “Yeah, that’s me!” Bakugou set down the drink on his table, which prompted Kirishima to smile at him before picking it up. “Thanks! I really like the snowflake there. That’s some cool coffee art.”

“Yeah, it’s sort of my thing…” The barista trailed off, rubbing his head. Before he could make a fool out of himself, he whirled around and tried not to drown in embarrassment.

He had only taken one step before he heard:

(damn, that guy was hot… he was a bit awkward but it was cute. maybe I could get his number one day if I kept going here…)

Bakugou whipped back to look at Kirishima, who was nonchalantly sipping his drink. “Did you say something?”

“Huh? Oh, no… I didn’t.” Kirishima looked a bit confused.

(I swore that was in my head…)

“Look! You did it again!” He moved closer and narrowed his eyes, making Kirishima slightly uneasy.

(he looks like knuckles from sonic, but with the hair down)

“I mean, I guess? Honestly the hair makes me look like a superhero-” Kirishima paused, eyes widening as he realized what he had just said. “That was you?! We’re soulmates?”

Bakugou quickly covered his mouth. “Shut up, you’re so loud! I have a coworker who likes to pry into my private life, and saying that isn’t really helping.”

“Oops, sorry…” he said sheepishly. A light went into his eyes again. “But anyways, whoa… that’s trippy. And kind of embarrassing? I feel like this would expose me too much…. And wait! I don’t even know your name… let alone have your number.”

Oof, so Kirishima was talkative huh… well, Bakugou could learn to live with that.

He cocked an eyebrow, feeling both a sense of indescribable happiness and twisted joy in finding someone else that he could sass and get away with it. “My name is on my name tag... and as for my number, well, you can get it once my shift is over.” He grinned slightly before walking away.

There wasn’t much Ochako could do let that secret leave his lips when he got back behind the counter. (she totally knew something was going on)

---

(you know, that really isn’t fair. you walked off before I could see your name tag)

(ah well, too bad?)

(come on!)

(alright alright, hi, I’m bakugou katsuki)

(kirishima eijirou, soulmate at your service)

(i mean, i don’t really know what you do. is there a manual or something?)

(for what? you’ve already mastered my heart)

(fucking-)

(ahahaha)