#ratchet x human

[tinydefector]

Rut cycle- Ratchet

Gen 1 Ratchet x human

Word count: 1.6k

Waring: smut, breeding, oral, size difference.

Masterlist

Ratchet masterlist

Rut cycle masterlist

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"Hey Rat, got your equipment!" A voice calls out from the entrance of the medical lab, multiple sets of optics shoot to the human who reads through the list of equipment that was needed.

Ratchet's vocals crackled with static as their sweet voice tortured his processor, the haze of his rut had made it nearly unbearable to be around any of the other mechs on base without him wanting to rip their helm off. His plating clamps uo agonisingly as he turns to the human.

Optics watch their every move as they walk through the lab, every mech's optics flicker over their form. Dimly he registered a medkit, blood samples and other equipment clutched to their chest.

A soft whine escaped his venting as the sweet yet nearly sickening scent of hormones waft from their frame. They smile, making their way towards the medical staff with the supplies. "Here those blood samples you requested, hopefully this can help you understand what about our biology seems to keep making you guys go into rut" they call out while checking over their list. “I wasn't able to get any Electrum samples after that fight with the Cons. There wasn't much left at the scuffle” they call back, Ratchet optics focus In on Perceptor and Hoist as the two begin sniffing the air.

Through the haze of full-blown interfacing protocols, Ratchet lefts out savage snarl peeled from his vocalizer at the collected optics of his cohorts. Hoist, Starscream, Perceptor and Shockwave back off, but they sling around the lab, trying to make themself look busy.

Dimly he registered supplies in tiny hands, he took them as softly as he could from them, his frame shuttering in delight at the slightest contact. A harsh keen escaped as servos servo lifted them up onto the table. It makes them laugh softly as they shake their head at him "Settle Doc, they aren't doing anything" they call out while moving about with different vials, looking at the different colours and liquids in them. Once again the others in the lab try sneaking closer.

Another savage snarl tore from Ratchet's vocalizer at the gathered mechs, plating clamping up as his servos dent the table. "Back, the lot of you!" he bellowed, a dampening field flickering with repressed urges. His Optics cycled rapidly between the crowd and their movements.

His vocalizer spat harshly "get out Now," he rasped through grit denta. The others didn't stick around after Ratchet snarled, all of them quick to leave the medical bay. A low keen escaped his vocals as he slams the door locked, servo pressed against the metal as he cycles another vent while pressing His helm against the metal trying to calm his systems down. He stands there for a moment trying to get a hold of himself before his optics shoot open as he marches himself back over to them.

A gasp leaves them as Ratchet grabs them by the hips pulling them closer "Easy Ratchet, easy!" They call out through a shaky breath as their fingers dig into the Ridge of his plating eyes focusing on his optics, watching the way they shift and flicker as he looks at them than the lab.

Ratchet shuddered violently at the proximity yet dared not release his deathgrip on their hips. Every part of his coding was calling for one thing.

Claim. Breed.

His helm nuzzled against them unconsciously, massive frame quivering with repressed force that could crumple their fragile body. The scent, the warmth and the softness has Ratchet keening softly into their shoulder, nipping and sucking the skin.

" That's bad huh?" They ask softly, one hand trailing his neck cables as they hold onto him, they knew the rut cycle was chipping away at Ratchet's sanity and restraint; they just hadn't realised How badly it had affected him. Their other hand moves his faceplate, leaning up catching his lips in a kiss as they hold him in place.

"Please." His voice box grated a ragged plea, servos trembling with a need to touch to claim. "Can barely contain protocols - damage you, never forgive myself.." His engines snarled in need. It's a miracle either of them make it to the medical berth, but the moment they do Ratchet is on them. A savage snarl tore free as he seized their delicate frame, servos tearing through clothing as if it was nothing.

His intake trails across their body kissing, licking and savouring the taste of their skin. His frame caged them against the berth, A guttural rumble leaves him as he admires their naked body.

"Ratch lay down now" they demand. He follows the command without a second question, servo guiding them to sit atop of his frame. their fingers run across the seams of his chassis and further down his body. "Mmm good boy" they praise, leaning down to press a kiss to his frame.

Their hand moves to his interface panel, running along the hatch. "Come on handsome, you know you want me on your spike you don't need to hold back anymore, let me look after you" they coo as they move further down his frame. A tortured keen ripped from Ratchet's ragged vocals His optics flickered, fields pulsing in need. His interface panel snaps open, Ratchet hisses as the pressure finally releases, a deep moan follows as smaller hands wrap around his spike.

His servos curl around their hips as they slowly work his spike with their hands and mouth. optics fixate on their backside as he squeezes the flesh of their ass, adoring the small gasp that leaves them. they pull away enough as transfluid runs down their chin and Ratchet's spike. They watch the way the shimmering liquid leaks and pools into the seams of Ratchet's frame.

"Use your words baby, can't help you if you don't tell me what you want" they chuckles as they press a kiss to the side of his spike, running their tongue up the length, lapping up the pretty pink fluid that leaves his frame. "Please - ah, please!" he managed to force through gritting denta, grasping desperately for a coherent thought. His spike throbbed in need with each touch.

His intake fluttered futilely, field pulsing arrant pleas for the relief he drags them back away from his spike. Spreading their thighs, his glossa runs between their thighs before he pulls them back onto his face. A deep guttural moan leaves him and he works his glossa into them.

Gasp and moans leave their lips as the hunch over face pressed into his chassis as Ratchet eagerly eats them out as if it were his last meal. "Inside - need to fill you up! Frag, need you" he mumbles against their trembling body.

Ratchet emitted a pained keen as he withdrew his glossa, spike throbbing with a need to fill and claim. He lets out a purr as he positions them, A stuttering exvent escaped his vents as he slowly presses in, his engine roars in delight, intake snapped open in a soundless cry, frame clamped rigidly as he begins to grind into them.

“fuck Ratchet!” they cry out as he holds them in place. His optics focus on their stomach bulging from the size leaving a very visible outline of his spike, it makes an old part of his coding coo in delight seeing them so full. He slowly begins to pull out and press back in each movement as he holds back snarls as he tries desperately to be gentle.

A desperate keen tore from Ratchet's vocalizer as they slowly rose, then sank once more upon his throbbing spike, transfluid already leaking from their body running back down his spike as he pulled them down hard. A sharp yelp leaves them which makes Ratchet cease up for a moment. “I'm alright, I'm alright, please don't stop feels so good!” They call out trying to reassure him.

His servos curled tightly upon straining thighs, guiding each plunge to fully sheathe his spike within them. Optics blazed transfixed on their body and how used they looked, stomach bulging, his transfluid gushing from them yet he hadn't even overloaded yet.

Another guttural moan leaves him as he frantically grinds into them, each thrust leaves them breathless, thighs quivering with each movement. Gasp and cries leave them as Ratchet ceases up, their name falls from his lips as he pulls them close. They whine loudly as transfluid floods their smaller body, gushing out onto ratchets' lap and the medical berth. A deep purr echoes from Ratchet's chassis as he holds them steadily against his frame.

Ratchet vented ragged exhalations as they lay against each other, condensation and sweat coating both their quaking frame moulded closely to each other, his little lover's breaths are just as ragged as they whine into his plating, cuddling close to each other as Ratchet holds them close.

His spike remained fully seated within them, throbbing and twitching involuntarily with aftershocks of interfacing. His Sensory nets drunk on the mingled scents now permanently coating their body. They smelt like him, and it made a part of him content.

One massive servo curled tenderly against the small of their back, cradling them against his chassis.

"Feeling better?" They tease softly, only to gasp as he pulls them back against his spike making more trans fluid gush from them. A deep rumble leaves him in delight. "More peaceful than I've felt in millennia," he rumbled softly, palming their stomach now swollen with transfluid

They tense and squirm before finally settling, snuggling back into his arms enjoying the warmth that radiates off his frame. "Mmm well work on the blocker tomorrow i wanna cuddle" they mumble to Ratchet.

___________

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Taglist

@angelxcvxc

@saturnhas82moons

@kgonbeiden

@murkyponds

@autobot79

@buddee

@bubblyjoonjoon

@chaihena

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[starspice-y]

Finished up an art trade with @desertrosesmetaldune ! Was super fun lol Ive never drawn Ratchet this detailed 💜 I like to think they're watching back to the future or smth lol

[shorohhhh]

Following the memories...

[botmilf]

18+ commission ahead! NO MINORS!

Yup, Docbot's still got it. Thank you @cyberrose2001 for commissioning me to draw Ratchet/OC! I got to try out something a little newer with this one--experimenting with crazy angles n stuff and I appreciate their patience!

My Commissions are currently OPEN! DM me if you're interested!

[cyberrose2001]

"Just relax... and let me taste you..."

NSFW UNDER CUT!! Minors DNI

okay i was severly debating on posting this but fuck it how could i deprive my audience, im not a monster

enjoy some synthen ratchet eating you out

(will most likely update this with different skin tones so watch out for that)

[yandere--stuck]

Thinking about Yandere!Ratchet from Safety Hazard being on Synthetic Energon and being much more forward with his human. He’s definitely gonna be embarrassed by the way he was with them when he’s off of it lmao

“You're such a tease, you know that?” Ratchet hissed.

You blinked, not quite believing your ears. You turned about, furrowing your brows as you shot a look up to Ratchet at his station by the main computer screens. The green of his optics shone on you like spotlights, glowing brightly as he glowered down at you.

“Excuse me?” You asked, incredulous.

“You think I don't know what you're trying to do,” he sneered. “Showing up here, showing off your flesh, teasing me…”

“Ratchet, I'm not dressing any differently from what I usually wear!”

The medic growled, frustrated. “Then, it's not the clothes. It's just you. Something wrong with you that makes you beg for my attention.”

He took a sudden step toward you, the floor of the base shaking for a moment. You backed up, a sudden, cold wave of fear washing over you.

“Ratchet, stop,” You said, voice wary. “You're not making sense and you're scaring me.”

A smirk carved its way onto Ratchet’s face as he continued his slow advance on you.

“What doesn't make sense is what you do to me,” Ratchet purred, “I should be disgusted by the sight of your skin, but instead, I have the urge to reach out and-”

Large, stubby digits reached out to grab at you. You tried to sprint past his servo, but he was far too fast, scooping your small form into his servo and holding you tight in his grip. An involuntary shout escaped you, and your stomach dropped as Ratchet lifted you into the air. You were face-to-face with the Medic as he laughed, watching as you attempted to squirm and kick yourself free.

“Gotcha,” He grinned, green eyes shining with something that looked like hunger.

“Ratchet, p- please,” You gasped out, barely able to breathe. “It's the Synth-En! This isn't you.”

He didn't dignify your words with a response. He only continued to grin and hold you with his gaze.

Blood pounded in your ears to the beat of your rabbiting heart. As much as you tried to calm yourself and slow your breathing, you couldn't bring yourself under control. Terror shot through your nerves, your entire body taut like the string of a bow, bracing for Ratchet to crush you under his thumb.

But, he didn't. For too long a moment, he simply looked at you. Drank in the expression of fear on your face, how he had you right where he wanted you, like an organic prey animal in a trap. And, hey, that's basically what you were, right?

And then, the thumb of the servo holding you moved. An involuntary gasp bubbled up from your throat, sounding as desperate and breathless as a final breath. But, not to crush you. It brushed against your cheek, so decisive and purposeful. So gentle and just as potentially deadly.

You met his eyes.

“... You're my human. You know that, right?” He asked.

Your brows furrowed. What the Hell was he talking about? You opened your mouth to argue- but, as if reading your mind, Ratchet tightened his hold on you, silencing you.

“Don't lie to me, or I'll squeeze.”

Your breathing was shallow as you trembled in Ratchet's hold. His stubby digits curled tighter around you. You felt the pressure squeezing against your organs. The air was forced out of you, left coughing and unable to inhale. He simply watched as you spasmed and fought to be able to breathe.

And then he relaxed his hold. You quickly inhaled and exhaled, desperate to get air back into your burning lungs. Your body weak, all you could do was allow yourself to be held up by Ratchet as you recovered in his grip, panting like a dog.

“Now, what do we say?” Ratchet teased.

“I'm yours,” You relented. “I'm yours.”

“Now that's a good human.” Ratchet praised, expression just a touch softer. “And I trust the others won't be hearing about this when they get back. Right?"

[rungssparemodelpieces]

Ratchet, walks into a room with Drift, Rodimus, Megatron, Ultra Magnus, and Bot:

“Alright, now you listen up! I have had an extremely stressful day and I’m not proud of what I’m about to say but someone give me a cy-garette. Now.”

Bot: “But Ratchet, we don’t smoke.”

Ratchet, irritated beyond belief: “Cut the slag, Bot. I am a doctor. I know that one in five Cybertronians smoke. One, two, three, four, five. Now, I’m gong to close my eyes and when I open them, there had better be a cy-garette between these two fingers. Come on crew, hop to.”

Megatron places a cy-garette between Ratchet’s fingers.

Ratchet: “Thank you. Light.”

Everyone attempts to light the cy-garette at the same time.

[starscream-is-my-wife]

[transformers-spike]

"Is this why the Autobots are fond of humanity? To indulge their sweet heat cycles? How many human mates has Optimus taken for himself? It seems as though their motives to protect them were never altruistic, much less noble." PLEASE, PLEASE GIVE US A SUB-STORY WHERE THIS TIME IT'S OPTIMUS AND A HUMAN SO IN THEIR HEAT CYCLE PLEASEEEE

Idk am I creating a humans in heat universe for the TF Fandom? I know people like making the bots go through it but I think the humans being affected is so much funnier. Just begging these massive robots to fuck us lmao

How must it feel to burn from the inside out? Betrayed by your own body, rendered unable to function by the fire in your core. You described it as an aching, an insatiable need to appease the hormones overtaking your nerve endings. A mere touch is enough to worsen the ache, it’s what your body dictates in the throes of a heat cycle.

Cybertronians are forged by Primus Himself, their interfaces exist for recreational pleasure and bonding, but your species is biologically programmed to reproduce, like most of the fauna of your planet. It’s a systemic sacrifice, one rendered obsolete by the sentient status of your species. Drugs have been produced to suppress your heats, or at least lessen the effects. Unfortunately, among a dozen varieties of medication, you are either allergic or completely immune to them, leaving you susceptible to your hormonal whims. He is sorry. You must go through so much pain every few months, but you barely show it, brushing off his concerns with a laugh, saying “it is what it is” and moving on as though your body isn’t on a timer. He admires you for it. In spite of your discomfort, you haven’t given up. Once, you told him: “So what if they don’t work on me? I just gotta roll with the punches and hope for the best, it’s been my M.O. since I got the damn thing.” Meeting them for the first time… was turbulent to say the least, but you’re safe and sound, relocated to Jasper, having adjusted to your new life with the help of Agent Fowler. You’ve told them many times you’re infinitely grateful to be in their lives (barring the near death experience at the servos of an Insecticon). For them it’s a pleasure to ease your burden. You’ve eagerly established your consent, although only Arcee is the right size to properly take care of a human. Digits and glossas can only do so much compared to a spike. He tries not to pry, your privacy is yours to divulge at your leisure, but he cannot ignore the charge building up behind his interface when he sees you with the others. Yes, he is an occasional participant, but he will rather cover shifts and allow them some well-deserved respite in your berth. They deserve it. He dares not imagine Arcee’s spike pumping in and out of you, satiating your aching body, filling you to your limit as you beg for more. 

Your scent lingers in the air, caressing his sensors, a gentle hand tugging him along by the servo, pulling him in your direction. They try to keep it to themselves, but his team is beyond a doubt intoxicated by your presence alone. Thankfully, it has (almost) never impeded their judgment during missions; perhaps it has even served as motivation to make it back to base in one piece. He tries to ignore the gleam in his old friend’s optics after quelling your urges, if only for a night. Or Bumblebee's praises coming to you as a slow stream of beeps while he nuzzles your face. Or Bulkhead cradling you to his chassis like a precious artifact as you discuss what late night movies you should watch. Or catching Arcee kissing you over the mezzanine and pulling back with a smile she hasn’t worn since Cliffjumper’s death. You bring them together in your own special way, even if you blush and sheepishly deny it, claiming you should be thanking them instead  Recent discoveries have yielded an impressive increase in energon and brought forth new opportunities. With unparalleled quantities at their disposal, they can now mass displace. The transformation is no small feat, it exhausts their system and rapidly drains their energon level. But he will not forbid Bumblebee from using it to play with the kids as long as it’s not in excess. Nor to join you during heat cycles. Much like Bulkhead. And Wheeljack. And especially Ratchet. Primus forbid, his old friend has every right to enjoy himself to the fullest after all of his back-breaking work. He’s been meaning to pay you a visit, but he hasn’t found the time until now. In the temporary abode you set up in the base, away from the prying eyes of the kids, you prepare yourself for another heat. Some refurbishing was done to meet your needs (in no small thanks to June Darby and agent Fowler’s financial help); the mattress and the mini fridge was a given, but you’ve added a variety of personal belongings and entertainment; a television, a writing desk, a few “bean bags” here and there, and a pile of old magazines to scrapbook. He wonders if you consider this place your home more than your actual house in Jasper. You greet him while downing a bottle of water, holding up your hand to signal for him to wait. Once emptied, you place it next to the mini fridge, among a wide array of bottled water crates. That would explain the groceries June had brought in with Arcee’s help. As a medical professional she’s especially fretful over your condition, doing her best to prevent the risks of heat cycles, bringing you plenty of calorie dense fuel to combat the massive loss of nutrients. He has not forgotten the fear they experienced when they found you shaking from the deficit, having completely overlooked your hunger in a midst of desperation. In this form, he can appreciate the full extent of your body without fear of hurting you, kneading the supple flesh beneath his digits as you giggle and pull him into you. He does not tower over your reclined form as much as he encases you in a careful hug, hearing the rapid thrum of your human spark directly against his audials; he may sense your pulse rate, but experiencing it is a new wonder of its own. You tell him you missed him and you wish he would let himself go and come out to “obliterate your pussy” more often. He nods and apologizes for his absence even as you shush him and insist he enjoy himself as well. He is… the largest Cybertronian you’ve taken, you remark while adjusting to his size.

“Except maybe Wheeljack,” you add cheekily, already bucking into him. Your composure evaporates as he works you up, not to say that he is much better. He steadies himself over you, charge trickling down his interface as your walls clench around him in a vice-grip. You beg him for more, plead that he frag you until you can’t take it anymore, but he has grown used to your requests and knows when your body has reached its limit. You whimper and claw at his back plates, flush against his frame yet dragging him closer as though to merge your human spark to his.

If only he could.

Slow and steady, he frags you through your overloads, each one adding a new surge of spark down his frame until he comes to his end. You are small and shaking, but in this form he can properly hold you against his chassis and comfort you through the afterglow, bringing you another bottle of water and a Clif bar (chosen for the human scaling a mountain with “If you eat this you can kill God” in big bold letters).

You stir and sit up on shaky knees to accept his offerings. Halfway through your meal, you eye him up and down.

“Are you going to stay some more?” you ask with hopefulness, still chewing on the “ultimate nuts and banana power” concoction advertised on the packaging.

“I’m afraid not, Ratchet has been hard at work deciphering Decepticon encryptions, I will be taking on his duties for the night,” he tries to break it gently, expecting crushed expectations, not your bemused expression looking up at him.

“So you’re sending him my way?” You give a chuckle. “Wish we could have spent more time together, but work is work. Just…” you crawl into his lap and hug him as tight as you can, head resting against his chassis. “Please come back tomorrow. Or after tomorrow. I miss seeing you this way. I won’t get between you and… whatever you have going on, but please visit me more often. You have no idea how nice it feels to be around you.” His gaze softens, glowing faintly against your hair. “So I’ve been told,” he says, a smile on his lips. “As long as it lightens your burden.”

[sometimes-you-write]

[ Look at my DNI before interacting with my blog, please ]

[ Transformers Animated, human!reader ]

Reader: Well, aren't you smoking hot?

Optimus: I don't smoke though?

Reader: …

*later that day*

Optimus: Oh, Primus *covers his faceplate with his servos*

Ratchet: What?

Optimus: They were flirting with me.

Ratchet: …

Optimus: …

Ratchet: Congratulation, you're officially the last one to know.

[tinydefector]

Any chance we are going to get that Ratchet x Ambassador x Drift nsfw in the human effects series? 👀

First contact fifth kind - Human effects

Warnings: NSFW, smut, fingerings, blowjob, sex, threesome

Word count: 2.9k

Human effects Masterlist

Prev

Next

Request are open read pinned post for rules.

__________________

It's only a cycle later when Ratchet runs I to the Ambassador, they had stopped by for a mandatory check up as normal. But one thing is for sure Ratchet can't take his optics off them after everything Drift has said. Not to mention he now knew where his old servos had been carted off too.

Ratchet cycled a ventilation, fixing the Ambassador with an intent stare as he scanned their vitals. Never before had this routine check-up held such.. layered intrigue.

"So tell me, Ambassador - enjoying your new accessories?" He inquired casually, fighting a smirk as he read over their hearts beats per minute.

They tense up slightly at the question, eyes shooting around. "Who told you?" They ask rather hushed and panicked, not really expecting to get caught out so soon over the pin-up photos. They don't see First Aid or Ambulon but doesn't mean they aren't around listening in.

Ratchet's optics glinted knowingly. "Let's just say a certain wandering conjunx of mine knows these old servos better than most," he replied with a chuckle. "No need for alarm - your secret's safe with us. In fact..."

Trailing off, he leaned down slightly dropping his vocalizer to an intimate growl. "Drift and I found your... artistic pursuits rather inspiring."

They sit there stunned, almost baffled at how bold Ratchet is in his flirtation. "Shit Ratchet im sorry, i didn't mean to cause any issues between you and Drift!" They stammer out in panic. Ratchet shakes his head with a smile. "Calm yourself ambassador, Let's just say Drift is as enthusiastic about said photos."

His digit tip their chin softly, ghosting feather-light over delicate flesh. "And while I try to maintain propriety in my official duties, shall we say your photoshoot piqued the interests of more... intimate nature."

Venting softly, his optics roamed the Ambassador's flustered face. "Although Drift brought up a proposition that I doubt he has the courage to ask you, and I'm less prone to the detection of rejection. So I'd like to ask if you would be interested in spending a night with us " His words are smooth with each letter as he inquires. "I fully understand if you're not interested but it never hurts To ask?"

They go quiet for a moment, thoughts rushing as they take in his proposal, Ratchet was rather bold but they had never known the medic to dance around anything. " I don't know if I can," they start. "I'm the human liaison for your people with earth with supplies not to mention your also CMO plus..." they trail off only for Ratchet to stop them.

"I understand your reservations, Ambassador," he soothed, "Such fraternisation could complicate matters, were it to become public knowledge."

His thumb stroked soothing circles on their thigh. Venting softly, his optics flickering back to their eyes. "I simply wished to extend the offer, given your... artistic interests seemed to mirror ours, i can promise that if you wish it to me a one time thing we understand you're not obligated to anything you do not wish. And as your medic I would rather know that you're at least safe, there are a rather large number of mechs on ship who are very hung up over you."

They bit their thinking, they were interested, hell Ratchet had been the first to actually ask and be sincere about it and understand the risk, he was most likely the best choice in case something went wrong. "If.. if I agree, it has to stay on the down low I can't have it getting back to my superiors" they reply softly. "I value my job here on the Lost Light with cordoning deals between different outpost and my team"

Ratchet inclined his helm respectfully. "Your position and duties, of course, take priority. You have my word - whatever transpires between us will remain strictly confidential. If I may. Would it help if I sent Drift a comm to let him know so we can keep it a confidential matter?" It earns him a nod from them.

//The Ambassador has agreed to our proposition, though with utmost discretion//

Drift's reply came swift which had Ratchet nearly chuckling. //understood, no discussion no different to Rodimus’ visits// he replies.

"Would after your shift suit you? We would make certain your visit is kept on the down low, and see you safely back with no one the wiser." It was a rather warm invitation, the promise of easing tension

"You make a rather tempting offer Ratchet, you do understand there's probably a lot of stuff you won't be able to do with me due to our size and differences?" They inquire, making sure he knew just what he was getting into. Ratchet chuckled softly. " Drift and I are no strangers to creative interfacing, whatever the partner, we are happy to take things at your pace so that you feel comfortable."

He stroked their shoulder reassuringly. "But your limits and comfort take priority. We'll set rules later. Join us after your shift, just knock and one of us will answer."

"I'll see you later then" they state softly finishing up their appointment and walk off rather jittery, not knowing if they would be able to handle the rest of their shift after the feeling of Ratchet’s digits against their body. They give him a quick glance before disappearing down the halls.

//You are a terrible influence, you know,// Ratchet shoots back at Drift which earns him another chipped comm message.

//What can I say? I know your appetites as well as my own, my love. And don't think you're so innocent party sirens// it earns a small chuckle from Ratchet and he busies himself with reading the ambassadors charts and taking down the information.

It's much later that they had planned when they found themself standing outside Ratchet and Drift's Hab suite, nervously looking up and down the hall, they felt like a teenager about to get in trouble sneaking out. Eventually they work up the courage to knock quickly.

Ratchet opens the door quickly ushering them in. “Hello my dear.” he said softly

"Hi," they state nervously. Looking around again to make sure no one was around as they quickly darted into the room. Drift looks up with a smile as he sees them, "Have a seat, make yourself comfortable," Ratchet encouraged. "Can I offer you anything - energon?" Drift slipped close.

"I'd say a strong alcohol drink but I doubt either of you have anything like that here" they state while moving into the hab, eyes flicking around to see the different stuff around the place, it felt homey compared to what they were expecting. "Could you help me up so I can sit?" Drift stooped, gathering their considerably smaller form into his arms with utmost care. Rising slowly, Drift turned and took a seated position on the berth's edge, settling the Ambassador comfortably down.

Beside them, Ratchet grumbles softly to himself “forgive me i completely forgot” he states, he knew he was forgetting something. “No, no it's all good” they call out quickly while trying to make it not a big deal.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm making this Awkward. I don't really know where to start, I don't know if you do things differently compared to humans so I don't really know what to do" they finally admit. And it makes both Drift and Ratchet look at each other for a moment.

"Then allow us to guide you," Drift rumbled reassuringly. Gently cupping their face in his servo, he met their eyes with caring intent. "A kiss requires no special skills" he leaned closer, aiming not to overwhelm as he soft pressed his metallic lips to theirs. Pulling back slightly after a moment, he searched their expression for any sign of discomfort.

They lean into the kiss, the tension in their body fading as their lips move against Drift's. When they pull away they look half dazed from the kiss. "Um woah, I wasn't expecting that" they nearly whisper. Drift let out a low, pleased hum. His optics glowed softly in the low lighting.

"A good kiss often has that effect," he chuckled warmly. Beside them, Ratchet let out an approving hum, servos tracing teasing patterns against them The berth seemed to dip slightly as the two mech made themself comfortable. They shutter softly as the two sets of servos move against their body pressing them back on the berth. “Let us know if you want to stop at any point, just say the word” Ratchet purred as he moves closer.

"I will. I didn't think Cybertronians kissed" they hummed softly. "Mm, kissing is not a typical Cybertronian act, but we do tend to adopt practices from other species" Drift admitted, servo gliding soothing presses down their stomach. Ratchet teasingly brushes along their inner arms. "And it seems we've discovered a particularly enjoyable adaptation."

They gasp softly as Ratchet tilts their chin up and gently pulls them into a kiss, a soft moan leaves them as Drift presses a kiss to the side of their throat. Their hands shooting up to Ratchet's face plate tracing along the ridges. Ratchet purred softly in approval as they melted into his kiss.

Drift vented hot against their skin, satisfied at drawing such sweet sound from their lips He crooned soft encouragement, servos gliding light as breath across heated skin. Pulling back slowly, Ratchet met their eyes with the kind of heat that forged stars. "What lovely music you make."

His digits found divots of their hips, rubbing soft circles into them. Drift nibbled teasing kisses along their shoulder as he began removing their clothing. They slowly melt into each touch, little whines leaving them. The feeling of the two sets of servos against their body. "Mm didn't take either of you for being into this" they try to joke to not feel as flustered.

Ratchet huffed a laugh against their neck as he pressed a kiss to it. "When one lives as long as we, you develop a lot of interests sweetpark."

"Few would guess how creative we get, we tend to keep it on the downl ow," the former monk mused silkily against their ear.

His servo caressed down their flank as he slowly discarded their pants, thumb tracing the seam between thigh and hip. Drift nibbled their jaw, playfully making sure not to hurt them.

Another gasp leaves them as cold servos trace warm skin as Drift traces their body. They melt into each touch. "Mmm" they whine softly, letting the two mechs admire and inspect their frame.

Ratchet crooned approval, his own servos following the curves and lines of their upper body. "So beautiful," the medic praised against parted lips, Ratchet let out a keenly interested noise at their sprawled beauty, the Ambassador's scents flooded his sensor net. His optics roved hungrily over bared flesh, mapping each dip and swell.

Drift's fans whirred loudly beside him. "Fascinating," Ratchet purred, digits dipping to explore secret crevices and sensitive areas with clinical precision. He met his conjunx's hungry optics, understanding all too well.

A loud moan leaves them as their back arches, when Ratchet's digits brush against their sex, they pressing back against the digits "fuck... that feels good, Ratchet, Drift " they call out.

Ratchet hums in delight, servo moving further down for a moment. His optics flicker for a moment before he lifts his servos for Drift. The other Cybertronian without even needing to be asked slowly takes Ratchet's digits into his mouth, slowly lathering them with lubricant, pulling back after running his glossa over them.

A squeal nearly leaves the Ambassador when Ratchet presses them back between their thighs running back down to their sex. "Exquisite," Drift praised, moving down to suck a mark into their side. Ratchet rumbled again, optics blown wide and fiery as he stroked them open expertly. "Our species may share more in common that anticipated, it seems."

He pressed his digit very slowly into them. Stilling for a moment before thrusting with curling precision. “Is this alright, nothing hurts?” he inquired, still being wary of the differences.

“Yes, feels really good” they stutter, eyes falling closed as their hand moves to guild Ratchet. It isn't long before ratchet presses a second into them, scissoring and opening them up.

"Would you like more?" he purred against their panting mouth. "Mmmm yes, please!" They nearly beg, with each thrust of Ratchet's digits, hips moving to grind back against them. "Fuck... Ratchet " they whine.

Drift lets out a keen growl, his plating swelling as his spike pressurised under his panel, finally giving way. One of his servos wraps around his spike as he quickly strokes it, moaning loudly as he pleasures himself to the view in front of him.

Ratchet groaned near incoherent static, as he withdrew his soaked digits, enjoying their bereft mewl. “Drift” he calls moving back enough to pull his conjunx into a kiss. The Ambassador sits up to watch the two as Ratchet runs his glossa down Drift's frame as he drops to his knee plating. Grabbing Drift's Hips and pulling him forward until his intake is wrapped around Drift's spike.

Drift's knee joints nearly buckle as he grabs Ratchet's helm. The medic curved one servo around its hot girth as both his mouth and servo moved in Sync. He pulls back after a moment, wiping his mouth before looking at the Ambassador. “Is this still alright?” He asked, earning an eager nod from them.

Drift moves stationing himself on the berth between their legs, spike resting against their stomach. “You'll let us know if it hurts or feels off, we don't want to hurt you” Drift checks again. “I'll let you know if it gets too much” they confirm.

They arch and moan out loudly as Drift slowly presses into them, hips shuttering and bucking as the ex con holds them still trying to take it slow. “Fuck! Drift!” They whine, trying desperately to grind back against him. “Just wait sweetspark” he coos softly as Ratchet slowly slinks around Drift.

His servos grip Drift's hips as his spike presses into Drift's valve, the moment the have all adjusted Ratchet begins softly thrusting, in turn making drift grind into the Ambassador. Sounds of strained venting and rhythmic pistoning hydraulics filled the room. Drift held them close, murmuring quiet praises and encouragement as Ratchet steadily plundered his valve from behind.

"Frag, you're so soft and tight?" Drift vented roughly almost whining to the Ambassador. Rolling his hips in subtle counterpoint to Ratchet's merciless pace. Ratchet nipped a warning at his neck cables, grinning fiercely.

It doesn't take long for the ambassador to orgasm, the sheer size and texture of drift has their body shuttering and clenching on drifts spike as they cry out loudly, bucking and keening as they grab onto anything they can. Drift’s sensory net sang with the echoes of their mingled ecstasy. He's quick to pull away before his overload hits, sagging on the berth above them as his fans blast air as his frame tries to cool down.

Above, Ratchet rolled his shoulder wheels in a sated stretch before glancing down at their joined frames. His field swept with warm waves of affection and approval at the sight of his conjunx so blissed out. His optics shift to the Ambassador laying there panting.

"Does anything hurt, dizziness, nausea" Ratchet asked, vocalizer hoarse but tone mellow. As the two mechs slowly untangle themselves from each other and the ambassador, Ratchet is quick to fetch water for them while Drift begins pulling up a blanket for the ambassador. "I'm alright, Where did you get this?" They ask with a sly smile.

Ratchet vented a soft chuckle as he passed them the water. "always stock essential supplies," he told them warmly. Catching Drift's amused field, he quipped "Though this one seems to collect oddities even I've never seen."

Drift huffed a mock grumble, tucking a warm sheet around the ambassador's frame with utmost care. "Keeps things interesting, at least. Can't fault a mech for having hobbies." Drift mumbles as he crawls onto the berth beside the ambassador, lightly tracing their face.

Ratchet joins them on the broad berth, settling with relaxed poise. His servo found Drift's, squeezing firmly. The Ambassador pulls the blanket around them, gasping softly as Ratchet lifts them gently to settle them on his Chassis as Drift curls up against Ratchet's side.

"Thank you, this was different, not what I was expecting when experiencing my first ever fifth stage contact " they chuckle softly while snuggling in. Before a light bulb goes off in their head. "Holy shit am I the first human to umm have sexual intercourse with a Cybertronian?"

Ratchet's chassis rumbled a soft laugh beneath them. "Records of encounters between humans and our kind are scarce" he noted clinically. "It's quite possible you've made history tonight, Ambassador." Drift vented softly against their back. Soft whirs and clicks filled the berth as the two mech’s frames slowly reset. the ambassador drifted into a peaceful rest. Ratchet vented softly,"Never thought I'd see the orn a human slept in my berth," he mumbles lightly, Drift draping his frame halfway atop Ratchet's broader one. He brushed a thumb softly over the ambassador's face.

"Glad you brought 'em, all the same." Drift ex vented, relaxing into his partner's embrace. Ratchet squeezed back gently in wordless reply, as his systems slowly shut down into recharge.

_________________

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[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

Cybertronians eating rocks for the minerals they contain. Cybertronians on earth incorporating more and more rocks into their diets to make up for the lack of energon.

Imagine cybertronians going to the beach with their human pals and partners, and when the human hands them a cool looking rock to admire it seeming proud of themselves, the cybertronian pops it into their mouth and thanks the mortified human for their tasty offering.

“How did you know granite was my favorite?” They ask, as the human mourns their cool find.

Museum gems. Has anyone told them about museum gems? I mean look at this and tell me you never wanted to snack on them.

The human keeps bringing their cybertronian a bag full of the finest rocks they picked from the pile every time they visit the museum.

Special thanks to @minecraft-parrot-enthusiast for this comment chain. This could be an episode.

Cybertronian who is both surprised and concerned when they see their human eating salt for the first time.

“I thought you couldn’t eat rocks.”

“I can eat these rocks.”

Cue cybertronian monching on a boulder with gift shop gems on the side as the human next to them eats rock candy and sugar crystals.

Cybertronian deciding to try bricks and cement and drywall and regretting it. A human waking up in the middle of the night and turning on the lights to see that there is a hole in their wall now.

“Are you eating my drywall?”

“I’m HUNGRY!”

“Is it…good at least?”

*coughs up a piece of drywall* “No.”

Needless to say they started keeping energon in the house after that and neither of them spoke of the incident again.

[shorohhhh]

Made some redesign for my Ratchet humanization 🙃

[hello-gloomy]

Y/n: I am gonna call Unicron *data pad noises*

Sparkling: NoUhahh nO NooO CaLl pRimus

Y/n: I'm not calling Primus I'm calling Unicron.

* PANICKED Sparkling sounds*

Sparkling: noo I'm good

Y/n: Yeah eat their servos cause their bad, mhmm, take their servos and optics.

*Knockout dying in the back while Rachet shakes his head*

[cyberrose2001]

HUMAN PET AU <3

Ratchet finally comes home from working all day at the med bay, the poor medic is tired as hell and just wants to relax in the comfort of his own berth. Fortunately enough, ratchet owns an exotic pet. A human he has grown fond of. They are fully trained and even have their own collar (with the message “Please return to Ratchet if lost” written on it), they have also learned how to help Ratchet de-stress by letting him use their hole as his personal flesh light <3 His happy little human loves becoming his cum dump to help him get his frustrations out, such a helpful little pet <33

any continuity of ratchet is fine (pick ur fav!), afab but gender neutral reader please and thank you moni 🙏❤️‍🩹

A Sight For Sore Optics - Human Pet AU

IDW/MTMTE Ratchet x human! afab! gn!Reader

Hi Gem! Thank you so much for your request, I was literally foaming at the mouth ready to write this. To make this more anatomically possible, Ratchet's spike transforms to a more "safer" size. So I hope this is good please be good (I haven't finished reading mtmte yet so forgive me). Also if I have missed any tags please let me know!

Warnings: Xenophilia, Size Kink, Collaring, Oral (both receiving and giving), Masturbation, Praise Kink, Cum Dumping, Mild Dubious Consent (?)

Word Count: 2.3k

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Another day, another few thousand miles of endless space, another few sickly bots. Additionally, a few unkempt humans requiring attention due to poor conditions from their previous owners. With the new organic additions to the Lost Light at the captain's approval, Ratchet had found himself biting off more than he could chew, looking after bots and humans. Oh, how he wished he took up an organic health course or something other than primarily relying on Brainstorm's fervent research on the tiny creatures. Between juggling it all, Ratchet was unsure how much more his threadbare servos could take. Still, there was one thing the old medic was unmistakable about. He was tired.

One good thing, he must admit, is that he gets to return to you. His own human pet, a personal 'Thank you' gift on behalf of the entire crew for his selflessness and hard work, provided with you a basket with fundamental necessities. But the basket had long since been used up, and he had transformed it into a makeshift cot for you. It'll do for now, he had thought.

He was initially still trying to figure out what to think of you. Apart from very rudimentary health checkups and nutritional foods, there wasn't much that Ratchet could provide for you. There's not many enriching activities for such a tiny human like yourself. Until that is, he discovered something quite unusual that had been exhibited in almost every human adopted by the crew so far.

You have an insatiable libido.

Ratchet was unsure, if not downright nervous if other owners were to discover how incredibly beneficial humans could be. Whether or not they had already learned was an entirely different story. It wouldn't surprise Ratchet if that was the very reason why human pets were approved, though it seems shocking. It all seemed so innocent enough, adopting humans for the cuteness factor for the mechs on board. But as with most things, there's always more than just the surface level of what the optic sees. And Ratchet was already way too far below the surface.

Punching in the code for his hab suite, Ratchet waits eagerly for the door to open with twitching digits. He steps inside, tossing whatever work essentials he has on hand on the first bench he sees. He'll worry about reorganising later. Right now, he needs some pet therapy and a well-overdue overload. The dull ache behind his panels only gets stronger as his pedes carry him to his berthroom to you, curled up on his berth. It looked as if you neglected your rudimentary cot, choosing to sleep on his berth instead. The medic can't help the softened expression as he melts at the sight. Of all the things he didn't think he deserved, he never once expected it to be such an adorable little thing like you.

He lets his pedes wander over to you, like countless times before, careful and delicate. He always told himself that this 'fling' he had with you was only temporary and that it was purely for his curiosity, but he tends to find himself aching for you repeatedly. He can't help how his racing neurocircuits seem to fizzle out and calm down when he lies with you.

A roughened servo brushes over your hair to slowly stir you. It looked like you had been napping for some time now, which he believes is a good thing. Brainstorm did say that humans tend to sleep better in environments they consider comfortable. The gentle brushing causes you to stir and lift your head to greet him, though in a language yet to be deciphered. It's a pleasant greeting, and Ratchet can tell they're happy to see him. Something along the lines of 'I missed you,' he'd like to think.

"Hey, squishy. I missed you too," Ratchet smiles warmly. He brushes the hair away from your neck to reveal a collar, "You haven't ripped it off yet. Seems like you like it, hm?"

A slight, sleepy nod in confirmation, you've grasped at what he said. Ratchets' digits trail down to the collar, a small silver plate that reads 'Please Return to Ratchet If Lost - HabSuite ###" engraved in Cybertronian. Not that you tend to wander off, but more or less a just in case. Plus, he gets a thrill seeing his name attached to you. He thumbs it gently, admiring his handy work.

"I'm glad you do. It took me quite some time to make," Ratchet tugs at it softly, beckoning you to come closer. He watches you climb onto his lap, "Such tiny adornments are complex to create, 'specially with hands like mine." A servo cups your back, his thumb moving to play with your soft chest. He shivers when he hears a tiny whimper from you, and you seem eager to play with him already.

"I've had a busy day," A mechanical noise of shifting gears as his spike slides out of its housing, "I think you know what I need." It's well and truly bigger than you, much bigger than your tiny body could ever take. But the way your eyes light up in excitement assures Ratchet that you are more than pleased, already desperately taking off your quirky frame coverings. He eyes off your cute organic valve, notices how dripping wet it is, and staves off a moan.

"C'mere for a second," Ratchet scoops you into his servo to bring you closer to his face. He gets a whiff of your arousal, so earthy and addicting. The more you spread your thighs for him, the more he can smell. He brings you to his intake and licks one hearty stripe up your folds.

Oh yes, he thinks. Better than energon. Better than any high grade to ever pass his dermas, like a warm drink that soothes and revitalises his senses. It thickens on his glossa, groaning at the taste as he swirls it around your little node. He watches intently as you squeal in delight, your thighs trembling around his cheeks and how your little face contorts into one of pleasure. Well, he had always presumed it was in pleasure; you've never exactly shied away from his glossa. He hums when you feel him grinding, desperate little ruts chasing the vibrations.

Ratchet licks one last time at your slick, pulling away to observe. Oral lubricants coat your valve thickly, the sensitive area reddened from his torment. His optics wander up; your soft skin is already flushed and glistening with sweat. He wonders how close you were to overloading; it wouldn't have taken much longer if he had kept going. But his spike grows restless, throbbing against his abdominal plating, begging to be touched by much softer palms than his own.

"Do you want my spike? Hm?" Ratchet teases, "My big spike?" He knows you can't fully understand him, but he can't help but vocalise his salacious fantasy. Holding onto you carefully, he lounges back onto the berth. He bites his bottom derma and lowers you to his lap, showing you his engorged spike, "Go on then, have at it. I'll frag your little brains out soon."

With an encouraging nudge from Ratchet, you straddle the shaft. To anyone else, it looks ridiculous. A tiny human desperately attempting to wrap their arms around a spike that's two times taller than they are. But to any depraved fleshy fragger, it's a sight to behold. Ratchet once thought of snapping a picture to potentially maybe sell it to the highest bidder for those who crave the feeling of such a soft body grinding on them, for he is sure there's a market out there somewhere, probably more than half of the crew onboard. Still, the shame of it all prevents him. There's an image to uphold being the resident medic.

Besides, he'd much prefer to keep you and that curious tongue all for himself.

He feels your little licks along him, a tiny tongue wiggling through the grooves and smooth surface, reaching crevices with hidden nodes that cause his pedes to curl. Soft ruts of your hips press your soaked valve right up against him. He knows what you want. The medic brings a servo to grip around his spike with you squished between, only tight enough to keep you in place as he begins self-servicing himself. He hears you letting out a surprised gasp, then a muffled moan, feeling your grip tighten around him.

"Yeah? You like that, squishy?" Ratchet moans, moving his servo slightly faster, "I bet you-nghh do. You look so cute like that. So tiny pressed against my spike."

Only a taste of your warmth is given through your body, like the little tease you are. Ratchet feels the perspiration dripping off you, likely due to the rise of his internal temperature and the energon being solely diverted to his array. It makes for a mediocre yet acceptable lubrication. He could spike you with it alone, but Ratchet prefers to use alternate practices in the interest of your health. Primus knows how careless other Cybertronians can be with their pets.

The medic is becoming increasingly aware of his overload and yours by the looks of things, your little optics squeezed shut, and your limbs clamped tight around his girth. He consciously decides to stop before you reach it. The idea of you squirming on his spike played on his processor a bit too well. He hears your soft whine at the loss of friction, which Ratchet can't help but chuckle at.

"I know, I know. I'm so mean, aren't I? Hold on, squishy." Ratchet lets you rest against his palm while his weeping spike whirs and clunks inwards to a much more manageable size for a human. His spike may be smaller, but there's not much difference in sensation. Thank Primus for the minicon-compatability modes, "You alright?"

A small squeak from you, yes. The medic watches intently as you waste no time climbing on, guided by his careful servo. You press your little valve against the tip, hissing as it barely slips through. Ratchet digs his pedes into the berth at the intense sensation, gritting his dentae as you bottom out. The feeling is incomparable to anything else; it's uniquely organic, warm, and so, so much softer than mesh.

He then wraps his entire servo around you, effectively turning you into one perfect spike sleeve only for him. Perfectly snug inside you, his grip clenches and unclenches around your torso before gently unsheathing himself from you again.

Ratchet is always careful when he uses you in this manner, ensuring his grip isn't too tight. He pushes you back down again, and he feels you melt into his servo. He hears your little whimpers and cries for him, to go faster, he believes. He learned a long ago that he doesn't need to understand your verbal mumbles when your fleshy hips try to hastefully force yourself down onto him, only halted by his own hand. His grip ever so tightens and gives in to your desperation, or more or less his own.

"You're so good for me, squishy. Hah- Lettin' me use your little valve like a toy." Ratchet mewls, his helm lolling off to the side as his optics flick between your face and the way his spike disappears inside you, "Such a helpful little pet you are."

He feels your velvet walls clamp down on him with each and every praise he gives, your little arms draped over the top of his thumb, clinging on for dear life. Every now and then, he massages your breasts pressed up against it, eliciting more dirty moans from you. Such softness that he can't help but take advantage of.

"So- ngh- tight," Ratchet vents heavily, "Primus, you've ruined me for my own race."

He felt a twinge of shame hearing himself; it was as if he had entirely let himself go. But he knows he can no longer turn back, not when you're the best little creature to ever stumble into his life. Despite him having you wrapped around his digits, it is indeed him wrapped around yours. The relief you bring to him after every gruelling shift, after every stressful day upon this damned ship, had him truly addicted.

And with an internal affirmation of decadence and with your soft little valve clenching and pulsing around his spike, he's sent right over the edge.

"Frag yes, sweetspark!-" He glitches out, pressing you down on his thick shaft as far as your soft little body can tolerate. His energon pulses deeply and shocks his entire body with an overload, shooting gush after gush of transfluids into you. His frame lurches forward, his hips driving into the berth as he milks his throbbing spike, his servo driving it deeper into you in a lust-filled daze. Your whines and cries only spur him on more, and he doesn't stop until you're shaking like a leaf in his hold.

It takes only a few more moments for a spent Ratchet to collapse back with you still in his grip, albeit slumped against his thumb. You're panting hard, and he can only just feel your tiny heart pounding against him. You must have had your own overload by the looks of it if the bliss-filled smile on your soft lips is anything to go by. His optics linger down to your soft, distended stomach and the dripping mess that splatters across your thighs and onto his pelvic plating. Now that truly is a sight for sore optics, he thinks to himself.

Ratchet huffs, bringing his other servo to pat the top of your head, "Now there's my happy little human, huh?" He smiles warmly when he feels you leaning into his touch, "How 'bout I fill you up some more?"

If this was what it took for the old medic to de-stress and relax, then so be it. If he were to be exposed to the rest of the crew, then may he join the rest of them. In secret, for now, he will proudly declare himself a lover of organic flesh.

[squibsformers]

Miscommunication

Rodimus x Human Reader, Drift x Ratchet x Human Reader

Summary: After Rodimus tried looping you into something you really weren't into, you sought out your other partners to complain about his reveal of character.

Word Count: 1,128

AN: NSFW suggestive talk, no outright smut. Also hi this is my first tf writing soooo lmk what your thoughts are, i love comments. I'm already working on a reader insert series and wanted to start with a few one off bits. Enjoy! tagging valveplug just in case.

Drift looked up when you entered the medbay, his greeting dying on his glossa as his field just PINGED with the waves of displeasure coming off you.

“Jeez… what's got you all wound up, huh?” He straightened his backstuts as he stood up more from the desk he leaned over, messing with Ratchet temporarily set aside.

You hissed a rush of words under your breath as you strutted in, something that he couldn't TELL what was said but he understood it wasn't very polite. Even the older medic bot lifted his head to address you.

“I only managed to make out Rodimus in all that. What did our oh so brilliant captain do to piss you off?”

 “I thought this whole time we were leading up to something… fun. But it turns out I misread every step. He thinks he's BETTER than me.”

“He's the captain, he is better than you.”

You whipped your head around to glare at Ratchet. “Better enough that I deserve to clean the dirt off his kibble with my tongue?? Because I feel that's pretty fucking degrading.”

Both bots stilled, and the medic's “Wait, what-” was interrupted by Drift stalling briefly and talking over him. “That doesn't sound at ALL like something Roddy would say.”

“I thought so, too.” You huffed before your attitude melted into something a bit sadder. “I mean… I've been flirting with him for so long, and he's been receptive towards it. You even told me he said he likes me. So I don't know where this came from…” 

Groaning, you put your face in your hands, and idly Ratchet patted your back while working (and half listening). 

“I didn't even think that would be a thing with you guys, making someone tongue-polish your like, plating and stuff.”

“That sounds like something Megatron would have had Starscream do back in the day,” Ratchet groused, making Drift mock gagging.

“I'm going to purge my tank, don't make me think about those two like that.” A shudder wracked the ex ‘con's frame. “Eugh. No it's not really a thing with us. Is…is it a human thing?”

“Ah…” The question made you pause to think. “Not… really? I mean, kind of. It's usually an extremely exaggerated form of punishment from someone who wants to uh… show superiority while demeaning the other. Though it's shoes or boots for us, not armor spikes. The idea is to polish the dirtiest article of clothing with their tongue - or glossa - so they feel... sub-human. Though there's always exceptions, and some people are into that kinda thing as like, a kink? But it's really not…what I'm looking for.” You wince.

….Ratchet paused his comforting as he listened, before turning to look you over. “Hold on, back up. Armor spikes… kid, what did Rodimus say to you?”

Drift leaned over the autobot's shoulder, studying you closely. The samurai looked both confused…and disbelieving.

Alright, fine then.

“He said ‘Y’know… Maybe you can put that glossa of yours to use and… clean my spikes with it.’” They let out a grumble. “I didn't peg him for the degrading type…”

The two mechs went oddly quiet and still.

“Spikes… plural?” Drift pressed.

You thought back more, mulling the memory over, of the captain of the Lost Light leering down at you with that heated smirk and his thumb on your cheek…and shook your head.

“No, sorry. Just spike.”

“PFFT-”

You looked up to see Drift looking away, one of his servos clamped over his intake as he cackled. His limbs shook and he held onto Ratchet to steady himself. The medic was looking away, face buried in his hands. His shoulders shook.

He was also laughing at you.

“What. WHAT! HEY?? HELLO!!”

“Kid…Kid, Sp..spike is another term we have for plug.” Ratchet mumbled out. Still laughing. Very much laughing at you. His words caused Drift to wheeze and bend over, his vents stuttering as he cackled.

“He was asking you to interface finally and you totally missed it..!! Oh Primus help me, what did you say? What did you say, tell me. Please, it has to be good.”

Your face got warm as you thought of the fact that you had finally gotten Rodimus interested enough he would make a bold pass. Your face was hot when you realized you had totally missed his signals. Your face was practically on fire when it clicked just how badly you fumbled the whole interaction.

“I… I said Ew, no thanks. And came here-”

“THAAAAHAHAATS THE WORST THING YOU C-COOOHOULD HAVE SAID!!! AAAHAHAGHA OH PRIMUS-”

“Frag me, kid you did not-”

There was no saving you. Both mechs were now openly laughing at your misery. Your face buried in your hands you mumbled out a weak “How was I supposed to know!” that only made Drift start losing it all over again.

After some time (Ten. Minutes.) the two much larger beings had settled, Ratchet returning to his work and chuckling on occasion while Drift…pestered you over your absolute dropping of the ball.

“I can't believe this. I'm almost scared to flirt with you now because you may not get it!”

“Driiiiift…!” You whined, the cheeky samurai squeezing your hips. “Let me go, I want to jettison myself out of the airlock.”

“Not a chance!! I mean I want to make sure if I tell you I wanna have you eat my valve from the back that you aren't going to mistake it for me, say, threatening to mug you or something.”

Your face was bright red. “Drift!!”

“Or, oh man, if I tell you I want to slot my plug between your thighs, maybe you'll think I'm wanting you to-”

“RATCHET! DRIFT IS BULLYING ME AGAIN!” Complaining loudly, you squirmed in Drift's hold while eyeing his Conjux, displeased and humiliated and hoping the medic would scold him or something.

Ratchet barely spared you a glance with his optics as he continued his inventory count. He was literally busy and not paying attention to you two.

“Between words from attractive mechs, manhandling, and something almost too big to go in, you enjoy being bullied, and all of us here are very aware of it,” drawled the grouch's response.

You stared at him, mouth dropped open in shock and WORSE embarrassment at how he called your bullshit out. All while Drift began cackling all over again.

—

You stared up at the habisuite door, staring at the imposing metal barrier of captain Rodimus Prime's personal chambers. Your stomach twisted in knots nervously, your palms somewhat sweaty as you raised a fist and knocked hard, twice. Mentally, you prepared your apology as you heard shuffling and the soft clank of pedes across a metal floor.

God, you hoped the mech thought stupid was hot.