#ratchet x human

[love-and-war-on-cybertron]

Imagine this ✋😌🤚 (Transformers Prime Wise) everyone is in the base chilling and the kids randomly start talking about who’s the most attractive of the bots (based on whatever random criteria list Miko made). while they are all going on about why their personal bot would definitely be popular they start arguing and suddenly call out to reader (who has been minding their business on the couch distracted reading a book or something) and asks them which autobot is most attractive, reader instinctively and with absolutely no hesitation blurts out the bot thats been on their mind for a while nonchalantly acting as if they didn’t pretty much confess their attraction and said bot definitely heard them. (I would love Ratchet or bulkhead, or bumblebee whichever one is easier to write for)(loved your Rodimus fic btw it was so cute 10/10) sorry this request was so long, it’s completely fine if you don’t wanna write this 😭

No need to apologize!! I'm so glad you liked the Rodimus one, it got rewritten like four times XP I still need to catch up on TFP, but I'm a little more familiar with Ratchet from it. I hope you enjoy!

Ratchet was too busy working to pay attention to what the humans were up to. This part had been busted for a week and he needed it for his next project. The talk was nothing but an annoying buzz in the background, occasionally becoming loud enough for him to huff or grunt to try and get them to quiet down.

Something about who the most attractive bot was. How childish! the criteria listed by Miko wasn't anywhere near Cybertronian beauty standards. What did a human know about biolights and kibble? The angular chassis of a tank compared to the smooth curves of a racer frame? This kids would make their observations and laugh, especially when Decepticons were the topic. Prime was called a "daddy" and Bee had "Puppy energy".

"What about you, Y/N?"

Ratchet listens a little closer, but still keeps his focus on his work. You weren't a child, and had a decent processor in that head of yours. You might have some sense not to play this stupid game.

"Ratchet."

Hwat?

Ratchet almost drops his tools in surprise. You, the only human he thought had some sense think he's attractive. Glancing over his shoulder, he sees that you had been just as busy as him when the questioning started. Sat on the couch with your book, looking around, stumbling over yourself to explain. He caught some of it: intelligent, skilled. Handsome for a robot.

Miko seemed to spearhead the grilling despite being the one to start the whole thing.

When you glance in Ratchet's direction, he sees your eyes widen and how quickly you look down when they meet his optics. Shame? Embarrassment? It doesn't sit right to see you teased. Just because you can appreciate an older bot.

"What's so funny?" Ratchet scoffs, "at least one of your kind has some taste." He turns away from the console and over to the platform. Bee chirps and nudges him before getting shoved away by the doctor. "Isn't it time you all leave?"

He leans close, glaring at the kids. Miko tries snarking back about the weekend but Raf mentions a movie playing. Bee volunteers to take them home, perfect excuse for him to go to the drive in.

Wheeljack heads out with them, raising an optic ridge at the medic as he passes by. It's just the two of you left. Ratchet shift, glancing back at you. You don't look at him, sitting back on the couch with your book. Body tense and heated. Trying to look casual and relaxed and clearly anything but.

He vents out and looks back at his project, then at you again. "So... got a thing for old bots huh?"

You hunch down, gripping your book tighter. "Ratchet, I-"

"You uh… sticking around?" He interrupts, "I could use some help."

You peek up over your book. Ratchet had you help a couple times, small hands being able to reach places. And again, being the only human in this base that he thinks has a lick of sense.

"Sure... Yeah..." You put the book down and smile.

Ratchet smiles back, offering his servo for you to climb on.

[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

______________

"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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[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

[sultrycomets]

After a long day at the nearby lake, Wyatt Morgan returns to base with the ‘bots to cool down.

A gift fic for @botmilf, featuring her OC and two lover-bots!

Beating the Heat

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!

Word Count: 2,107

Art Credit: @/botmilf

Deep within the walls of the missile silo, Wyatt flopped the front of her body onto the nearest bundle of pillows inside the Autobots’ shared bedroom. She sighed, her tongue tasting the sweetness of the pink popsicle in her mouth. Fans blew all around her, keeping her functional and cool. She opened her mouth, groaning and closing her eyes shut. 

“Sonnn of a bitch.”

It was hot. Outside, the temperature was blazing, and she only just now returned from a trip with Optimus and Ratchet from the nearby lake. There, Ratchet waded in the water as much as he could, but he still required plenty of rest before he overheated, so they were forced to head back home within hours. 

Although Omega-1 was heavily air-conditioned, Wyatt stripped herself down within minutes of entering her silo, sipping on her water bottles. Now, she was just wearing a small camisole and a pair of black panties. She didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing her besides the ‘bots. This was her home, their shared home. 

Speaking of the ‘bots, only her, Ratchet, Optimus, and little baby Bumblebee lingered inside the missile silo for the time being. The others were out on patrol. In a way, this was her private time, she supposed.

Wyatt sucked on her popsicle, taking in the fruity scent through her nostrils and encouraging the cool juice to trickle down her throat. Before long, a sound from the doorway caused her eyes to blink open. Ratchet arrived, his frame mass-displaced as he carried a couple of cold rags in each servo. The woman slightly lifted herself from the pillows, noticing his hard focus on her.

“Hey, babe. Watcha doing?” She winked. “Starin’ at the popsicle in my mouth?”

Ratchet’s faceplate was tinted with a faint blue.

“Well, it’s…favorable to a cigarette.”

Wyatt chuckled and finished her treat before standing and chucking the stick into the nearest garbage bin. She grinned, running her fingers through her black hair. The medic bot looked her over, beckoning her forward with a wave of his servo.

“Alright. Now, come here.”

She did, granting him access to her body by repositioning herself onto the pillows. Slowly, he applied the cooling compresses to her neck and forehead. She arched her back, moving along with him, accommodating his touch. His affectionate actions coupled by the wet rags on her skin was nothing short of divine to her.

For a moment, however, she thought of Bumblebee. She lifted a brow, shuffling a little. 

“Baby taking a nap?”

“Yes, and it’s about time, too,” Ratchet said, “I was beginning to think otherwise. We’re not the only ones who are negatively affected by the temperatures of your planet.”

Wyatt nodded, understanding. She hugged the nearest pillow close beneath her chest. 

“Poor thing. He’s crabby.” 

“Indeed.”

The woman hummed, enjoying the way the cold rags felt on her sweaty body, the water seeping into her dark skin. She craned her neck and stretched, enjoying the moment to the fullest. She spread her legs once he reached her panties, dabbing the rags to her inner thighs. It took all her strength to not squeeze her legs around his servo right then and there. He was incredibly thorough, leaving no stone unturned. 

“Mmm,” she moaned above the sound of the blowing fans, “that feels nice, sweetie.”

Behind her, Ratchet laughed a little.

“As I intended. I’m relieved, Wyatt.”

And so was she, her fingers sinking into the pillows beneath her. He pressed the rags to her lower back, and the woman released a long and shuddering sigh that rippled across her entire body. 

“Hm.” He observed her little movements and noises. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

His tone, though firm, was slightly teasing. She turned, catching a glimpse of the Cybertronian’s smile. 

“You have no idea, Ratchet.”

Eventually, she grew to be so relaxed that she removed her top with ease, giving Ratchet permission to touch her body even further. She sighed into his digits, gasping as the cooling compress hit her nipples and bare shoulders. Within the breath of a whisper, she repeated Ratchet’s name. Her heart thrummed with bliss as she heard his gentle voice utter her own in return, his ministrations as loving as he was at his core.

In time, there was then the sound of a familiar pair of slow and heavy pedesteps. Optimus Prime entered from the doorway, mass-displaced and his shoulder pads gone. Once his gaze settled on the pair, he smiled. Wyatt waved at him.

“Hey, big guy. Come here.” She glanced at the medic. “Both of you. It’s cuddle time.”

As the three shifted into position, Ratchet scoffed a bit. 

“That would exchange more heat between our bodies.”

Wyatt rolled over, welcoming the pair into her pile of adoration. It didn’t take the three long to grow comfortable together. By now, the mechs were on either side of her, their bodies against the pillows and against each other. Smirking, she rubbed Ratchet’s finials in order to soothe him.

“We’ll live.”

Optimus snuggled her, venting his helm into her lower back. The tone in his voice was as tender as ever. 

“I am inclined to agree with her, Ratchet.” …

Minutes passed since the trio started cuddling, and Wyatt couldn’t ask for anything more. Within those minutes, snuggling, however, led into something a bit more intimate. In such a short amount of time, the woman’s relaxation shifted into arousal. And, judging by the looks on her mechs, they shared the same feeling. 

Optimus’s engine purred with a low and endearing rumble as he pressed his helm into Wyatt’s breasts. She smiled, rubbing his crest as he fondled her thighs like they were a stress toy. He was gentle but diligent in his touches, his digits resting into the plumpness of her squish. 

Likewise, on the other end, Ratchet groped the softness of her ass. Deciding to acknowledge this, Wyatt turned and hooked her fingers beneath her panties, stripping herself until she was completely bare. As she tossed her underwear to the side, the Autobot medic already vented with desire alongside her.

“Is now…really the time to be doing this?”

Wyatt shrugged at him, tracing his finials.

“I dunno. You tell me.”

With her side flat against the pillows, she leaned forward and cupped his metallic cheeks. And then, she kissed him directly on the dermas. As her eyes closed, Ratchet deepened the kiss by holding a servo to the back of her head to keep her in place. Wyatt moaned, her tongue running playfully against his bottom derma. A guttural sound emitted from Ratchet as he kissed her more, causing the woman to sink further into his embrace. With the steady beat of her heart, she stroked the sides of his faceplate and felt all that she could of his heat with her lips and her tongue. Similarly, Ratchet’s own glossa tasted the entrance to her mouth with slow, deliberate motions.

When she broke apart for air, she turned to Optimus, scanning the hint of longing in his glossy, blue optics. 

“Wyatt…”

She smiled at the soft tone of his voice, feeling the familiar wetness between her naked legs. After learning forward, she kissed him as well, tender but passionate. Wyatt lifted her palm to his warm cheek and melted into the smooch. It was true. Ratchet was the better kisser. However, Optimus possessed the spark. He returned her affections, moving his dermas against her own lips until her teeth nibbled a little at his mouthpiece. 

“Ah!”

Wyatt produced another moan. Behind her, Ratchet lifted her hair out of the way to gain easier access to the tattoo on her neck. He kissed her there, sweet and long. The sudden warmth on such a sensitive spot prompted her body to shiver with delight. 

Slowly, Ratchet’s servos trailed down her body, from her hips to the curve of her ass. When he reached her pussy, he carefully touched her folds, testing her.

“Mm. You’re lubricated but far from ready.”

Beside her, Optimus moaned lightly into Wyatt’s ear. 

“Then what do you propose, old friend?”

Through half-lidded eyes, Wyatt watched and felt as Ratchet lifted himself to touch his partner. Together, they smiled at one another before bumping their helms, sharing their own chaste kisses. 

“I propose…that we attend to her as best as we can.”

A faint layer of warmth formed across Wyatt’s cheeks. By the time Optimus and Ratchet retracted themselves from each other, Ratchet’s digit already teased Wyatt’s cunt, stroking along her slit and rubbing circles into the tiny nub of her clit. 

Wyatt fell back onto the pillows, using her fingers to rub and pinch at her nipples. She squeezed at the hardened buds, biting her lower lip as her toes curled. She moaned out the names of her partners with such bliss and adoration. 

“Nng…fuck!”

Gingerly, Optimus leaned towards her, stopping before her breasts. He glanced at her nipples before looking at her with gentle optics.

“May I?”

Wyatt smiled at him.

“Go ahead, love.”

The Prime nodded. As she lowered her hands to her sides, he reached out with his dermas, beginning to suck on her chest. His mouthpiece fit around one nipple while he used his free servo to fondle her other breast. She squirmed as she felt his dermas lightly tease her areola, treating her skin with utmost care and sensitivity. Every squish he made with his servo was careful, just as every suck with his dermas was gentle. The very moment he pulled away to switch to the other tit, he moaned onto her nipple. The very sound caused her abdomen to throb.

Ratchet locked eyes with Wyatt. Carefully, he lowered himself between her legs, resting his helm between her inner thighs. He stroked them, petting them with such grace and love before asking for her permission to stick out his glossa.

“Is this…alright?”

Wyatt nodded.

Ratchet wasted no time, using his glossa to tease her folds and slick slit. He wrapped his digits around her thighs, pulling her closer. Eagerly, Wyatt bucked her hips a little, prompting him to chuckle. 

“Fuck,” Wyatt sighed. “I love how you eat me out.”

The medic’s internal mechanics whirred with heat and pleasure.

“Is that so?” He smirked between her thighs. “In that case, just relax and let good ol’ doc bot take care of you.”

She did. With attention on both her tits and her pussy, she felt as though she could orgasm on the spot. And yet, she attempted to hold herself back as much as she could, wanting to enjoy their moment as much as possible. Optimus’s glossa flicked over her nipple while Ratchet’s dermas sucked on her clit. The combined stimulation was almost overwhelming, but certainly not uncomfortable. She arched her back, moaning as the two mechs provided her with their devotion and affections. 

Wyatt was close. She could feel it. Her heart rate skyrocketed, and her cunt pulsed and twitched with every stroke her medic delivered. With a verbal promise of her love for the two, she no longer held herself back. Her pussy clenched and contracted. She orgasmed hard on Ratchet’s glossa, and he lapped it up as much as he could. Her legs turned numb, and her eyes flickered. She grasped onto the mech’s helm, drawing Ratchet closer towards her. Likewise, using her arms, she hugged Optimus, wanting him near her. It took almost a full minute for Wyatt to recover. Together, they worked her through her orgasm until she finally relaxed one more. 

“Holy shit.”

She panted, her chest rising and falling swiftly into Optimus’s mouthpiece and servos. A moment of silence ensued as the three exchanged sweet looks with one another. All was blissful, and all was calm.

Well, at least until the baby started to cry from the next room over. Wyatt chuckled, not truly surprised.

“Fuck.”

Ratchet groaned, pulling himself away from her crotch. Similarly, Optimus removed himself from her breasts with a little smile on his faceplate, one that encouraged Wyatt to grin right back at him. 

Leaning forward, Ratchet pressed a kiss to her teardrop tattoo.

“I’ll…go fetch him.”

Before he could make his leave, however, Wyatt stopped him with her hand to his digit.

“Hold on. You know that I love you guys, right?”

Ratchet blinked, processing her words before smiling at her.

“Yes, yes. We know. I love you, too.”

He nodded, his voice soft and kind. When he finally left the bedroom, Optimus cuddled her soon after.

“As do I, Wyatt…with all of my spark.” 

The woman hummed, pressing another kiss to his helm.

Divider Credit: @/inklore

Also on Ao3!

[shorohhhh]

Following the memories...

[l3ibnest]

A good doctor never ignores his patients

+)

[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.

[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.”

[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?"

[aceofhearts25]

TRAD ART JUMPSCARE RAH-

felt like sketching the pookies. It’s traditional although I did slightly digitally alter some smol things Happy birthday! Not me thinking about YOU the damn whole time I was drawing Ratchet 🖐️😭 @cyberrose2001 (at this point I basically drew Ratchet just FOR u 👆)

[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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[rungssparemodelpieces]

Ratchet, being interviewed: “I’ve seen the horrors of war. I’ve seen countless bots die in the battlefield, in space, in my arms. I’ve see bots being blown up, eviscerated, decapitated, drawn and quartered, tortured, beaten, and vivisected before my optics, but there is one thing I fear above all else.”

Human, coming in for the fourth time that week with an interfacing related injury: “Hey, Ratchet, it’s your favorite patient!”

Ratchet: “Primus, if you exist somewhere out there, take me now…”

—

Meanwhile, Rung in his office alone: ”Hmm? Oh strange, I thought someone called for me…Oh well.”

Continues his work from before.

[robolvrr]

can't get enough ! ⋆ ★

ratchet x gn! reader x drift warnings: nsfw. threesome.

pleasure threatens to lull you dumb.

close to it, anyhow. drift can tell, your spine arches helpless, feline and on the verge of that special something him and his partner can't explain.

what ever power you hold over the pair is beyond logic and they've given up the frivolities of embarrassment - it was much more interesting to see just what else you could do instead.

his optics brighten, blazing and wavering at the cusp of your ass. how it meets him in jerky, motivated smacks, veins rushing with blood and muscle and fat rippling by sheer force.

this image plays over and over, until a squeak politely reminds his servos to lessen their might, alloy thumbs smoothing over the raw skin in affectionate afterthought.

he remembers first approaching you and how silly it all was.

a human, with a cybertronian, let alone two? the thought was as taboo as it was unheard of, as far as his knowledge goes. he hadn't devoted himself to a life of modesty, but even he knew tipsy on engex that what he offered was scandalous.

the surprise from him and ratchet? painting worthy. you had smiled up to them so sweetly, their precious, little secret, whispering that you had noticed them both staring. that you invited it, gladly. that you were more than happy to introduce them to just how resilient the human body could be under the right circumstances.

"keep them steady."

ratchet's voice, itching with electricity and a buzz in his field he could never ignore, tears him from ruminating. the mech raises an optical ridge, half-gazing with a lazy sort of amusement. drift ignores the stammer of his spark, continuing his hips when you whine "right there, right there!" - his kind doesn't have to stop, doesn't tire the same way and can actually pound that spot in you that makes you squirt for as long and rough as you'd like.

since you've been good, since ratchet has given him the green flag to do so, drift makes sure the back of your thighs nuzzle the front of his, warmth and softness sending tingles to his sensors. he admires the way your arousal clashes, oil and water, bright carnation and creamy pearl pitter pattering puddles on the floor.

your toes curl and fingers ball to fists, jingle of a brand new gift making music near the curve of your neck.

ratchet had been the one to bestow it. made sure the golden charm was perfectly center when he had clasped it, tightened just shy of breathless.

the insinuations, reality of it all, still drive drift crazy. his groans grow heated, heightened by the uninterrupted watchfulness of his conjux.

your vision is blurred. lips parted, your chest is sticky while you work yourself on drift's spike, stomach bulging at the angle he's pretzeled you in. not that you're complaining. the warrior still treats a tangle of sex like a battlefield, more than observant for the ticks and triggers that'll earn him raspy sighs.

ratchet? is obsessive in his own ways. he commands respect and you rarely try your bratty tricks with him. you can tell he's in the mood for stress relief, servo cupping the underside of your sweat-slick chin.

"open your mouth."

"hhhhguh?"

shushing you, you fold as he leans forward.

"no need to use your pretty head. just open."

in seconds, the fat tip of his spike lands flat on your tongue. you don't have to be mindful of teeth, though relax your jaw in efforts to swallow as much of his girth as you can.

a groan signals you've been... improving.

shallow thrusts split your mind in half, not in pace with drift's. when you lose rhythm, either or of them gently nurture you back on course. if anyone walked in, it'd be a debauched scene worthy the grimiest of hedonia's pleasure habs.

flesh can't handle excitement this passionate the way metal does. white starbursts behind your then shut eyelids, whimpers petering to a roughed up whine as you flounder for support.

you feel... squished. sandwiched more - while you don't have the energy or frankly the autonomy to peek, your hearing is just as good. a swap of something wet. muffled moans.

they're kissing. and ratchet's spike is further down your throat than usual, drift's almost hilted from behind. their glossas messily unlatch from one another and both holes empty at the same time.

gooey, another weak hiccup leaves you. digits course across your scalp, back, cheekbones.

the lost light is quiet. your lovers are content and you - you just can't get enough of it.

robolvrr 2024

a/n : another of the drafts i HAD to get out. please. please. PLEASE get me between those old men. i just know they'd love a little pet tbh.

[shorohhhh]

Made some redesign for my Ratchet humanization 🙃