#CMOFA: man i sure wish there were some x reader fics where you catch FA in the act and then you help him

[peggingprowl]

A gift for @cmofirstaid! Hope you enjoy this as much as do <3

A Helping Hand

Summary: First Aid has been daydreaming about you and your touch. When you walk in on him, you decide to give him a bit of a helping hand.

Tags: oral sex, overstimulation, dacryphilia, x reader, bot!reader, 1300~ words

First Aid bites his lips, stifling a whimper as he drags his servo along his spike. He slowly pumps it, taking his time to feel the texture of his biolights and ridges— all the while imagining it was your servos touching him.

The idea makes him whimper again. Frag. Would you tease him like this, slowly dragging your servo along his spike? Or perhaps you'd like to play with the slit on top, wringing out droplets of transfluid that you'd lick up.

"Ah, fragging Primus—" he moans, gripping his spike hard as he staves off an overload. He didn't want this to be over so quick—

"Need a hand?"

First Aid startles, squeaking in surprise as his facemask slams shut instinctively. Primus above, he wasn't actually expecting you to show up. He knew doing this in his office was a risk, anyone could walk in, but you? Of all mechs? He feels mortified, but his spike still twitches in his servo, betraying is arousal.

"I-I. It's. Frag me. I wasn't expecting any— Haven't you heard of knocking?!" he sputters, still painfully hard and exposed. He knew he should've gone with his valve, he could've closed his panel then, nevermind the inevitable mess!

"Oh, I did. You didn't answer, so I got a bit worried. Color me surprised to see this delicious sight," you purr, "You never did answer, Aid. Do you want a hand?"

He sputters for a moment, processor whirling as he tries to understand that curveball that just slammed into him face first. He's not sure that this isn't a wild processor dream, and he runs a quick diagnostic to make sure.

Yep. He's awake.

He watches you take a step forward. "C'mon now, show me that handsome face again," you crone, reaching a servo out.

He lets his faceplate slide back with a soft clink, mesmerized by your optics. Ever so slowly, you lean in, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. He whines slightly, optics flickering behind his visor as you pull him deeper. He opens his mouth against your insistent glossa, the kiss quickly morphing into something more messy and desperate. Clearly you had been wanting this as much as he has— the thought makes him dizzy.

"Please," he begs breathlessly against your lips, his own grip upon his spike slacken.

Who are you to deny him?

You pull away, his lips swollen and flush from your kisses. How pretty, he looks. Kneeling down in front of him, you pull his slackened servo away from his straining spike and replace with your own.

First Aid's vocalizer hitches the slight touch, hips bucking up. You tut, swirling a finger around the pre-fluid already decorating his spike.

"Look at you, so desperate for my touch. Don't worry baby, I'll take care of you."

And with that, you begin to languidly pump, eagerly watching him for his reactions. You drink in the sighs and twitches and moans as he falls apart under your talented fingers. His servos grasp hard at the chair's arms as you drip a finger into his slit, his head tossing back as he loudly moans.

"That's it baby, make all those pretty noises. Let me know how much you're loving this."

"Ah, Hng— F-frag, please!" He whines, writhing under your touch. Broken moans laced with static pour out of him.

You lean in, taking the tip of his spike inside your mouth.

"AH—!" He cries out, delirious with pleasure. You hum around his spike, savoring the sweet flavor of his transfluid. Swirling your glossa around, you tease at the nodes lining the head, before dipping down into his slit.

He babbles broken pleas above you, and you feel copious amounts of pre-fluid leak from your actions. Seems like you found a sensitive spot. Good to know.

You double down, wanting to pull more of those wonderful sounds out of First Aid. He does not disappoint.

He wails in pleasure as you descend further down his spike, servo pumping in time.

First Aid doesn't know how much more of this he can take— he feels his overload approaching fast.

"I-I'm-! Frag— ah! I'm close!" He chokes out. You hum around his spike, delighted.

He convulses, moaning loudly as overload washes over him. He unloads a gush of transfluid down your throat— and you continue to suck and pump, eager to milk every last drop from him.

His spike gives another few twitches under your ministrations. He moans lowly, panting as he recovers.

You still don't stop.

He shifts under you, whining slightly. And then louder. You still continue.

First Aid thought you were done after he came, but evidently you were not. His vocalizer hitches as you prod his slit with your glossa again.

"Wha— what?" he stutters weakly, head lolling.

You pull off slightly, still slowly pumping away. "I'm not done yet, baby. Just hang on a little more. I know you can handle it. Let me hear you," you murmur.

First Aid only nods, mouth wide open as he pants, charge begining to simmer once more. He loses himself in the swirl of your glossa, letting you bring him back up to that peak once again.

Another hard suck and swirl, and he breaks, moaning weakly as his second overload crashes over him, transfluid bursting once more into your awaiting mouth.

With a slow pop, you pull away

"Good boy," you grin. His spent spike twitches at the compliment.

You give him a moment to recover, his fans blasting after the two back-to-back overloads.

You weren't done with him yet.

With a gentle servo, you tap on his valve panel.

"Huh—?" he says, picking his head up to glace down at you.

You grin up at him."Baby, I said I take care of you. I've treated your spike, but I have yet to see your valve. Open up? Please?"

First Aid contemplates it for a moment. Hng. He just had the best blowjob of his Primus damned life. That glossa on his valve? Would probably kill him. But what a way to go.

His panel slides open, a silent invitation.

His valve is absolutely drenched in lubricant from his past two overloads. The plush white folds gleam, highlighted by his pulsing red nodes. You lick a stripe along one side, gathering that delicious lubricant, letting put a pleased hum as he twitches under you.

You delve into his swollen folds, spurred on by the gasps and moans he gives. Digging your glossa inside of him, you trace every nook and cranny you can reach. Your servos grip tightly upon his thighs, stabilizing yourself. You flick your tongue to his bright node, swirling around it before gently sucking.

A loud, broken wail escapes First Aid. It was so much. He bucks his hips at the overstimulation, it was still so soon after his previous two overloads— and yet a other was coming at him like a freight train.

Another suck to his node. First Aid feels tears gathering in his optics. Frag. He's so close.

He lets out a sob as you continue, your vice-like grip not letting him pull away from the onslaught of your glossa upon his folds. Tears trickle down his cheeks, mixing with the drool that clings to his messy, flushed face. He grinds down, chasing the overwhelming pleasure.

First Aid tosses his head back, spasming as overload once more overtakes him. An absolute flood of lubricant squirts out of him, drenching your face and his thighs as he cries and whines, mouth agape.

You pull away, futilely wiping your face as he crumples into his chair.

....He's probably going to need a new chair. This one is absolutely soaked in his transfluid and lubricants.

Standing up, you cradle his limp head with your servo, giving him a gentle kiss. His mouth still open, he whimpers at the taste of his own lubricants.

"Good job, baby," you whisper, "Let me know if you ever need another hand."