#reader x ratchet

[eminemily05]

Well, I did it. I finally cracked and wrote for Ratchet. And an inspired fic, no less

I wanted to give one of my pieces (Kissy Times ) a way that was more open to any readers/viewers. While also having fun building around the moment itself.

I hope I was able to capture the grumpy guy's personality well enough, and I do hope you all enjoy. And it gets a bit more suggestive towards the end, just a warning

This work is 2.2k words and roughly proofread...I may have issues.

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It’s a damn good thing the kids aren’t at base to witness this.

That’s the only thought on your mind as a metal servo slips under your shirt. The touch is gentle, hesitant even. Yet, its owner seems anything but at the moment. As mesh lips slot against yours, the faint rumble of an engine reverberates off the metal surfaces of the Autobot base. Steam slips through the seams of alloy plating, nearly unnoticeable biolights flickering beneath armor plates.

Of course, the feeling isn’t nearly as incredible as the fact of just whose servo is wandering your heated skin. 

Ratchet, mass displaced, yet still towering, had cornered you off to a section of the medbay. His back turned towards the main room so he could keep you from any prying optics that did manage to sneak in. Not that he was even focused on sensing whether any of the team witnessed this moment. All his attention diverted to the melting putty of human against his frame. To which he quickly responded with a supporting servo along the nape of your neck. Taking care to not pinch any skin between the seams of his digits as he cupped it with practiced precision.

Your hands found purchase along the seams of his warm plating. One settling on his shoulder pauldron. The other, gently cupping his audial–which wiggled happily–and pulling him closer into the embrace. Soft puffs of steam warming your fingers from beneath his frame. 

Internally, his scanner was pinging off repeatedly with warning signals for your current state. Easily, it picked up the shift of your breath, the uptick of your bodily temperature, and the steady increase of your heart rate as he practically stole the air from your lungs. His frame pressed flush to your trembling form and heated form. Yet, the feeling from your miniscule and weak EM field told him it was nothing to worry about.

Well, aside from the obvious–and very much annoying–human limits compared to his own alien species. Curse the universe for doing this to you.

Setting a shaking hand against his chassis, you gave a firm–yet gentle–push. It took him a moment to pick up on your silent plea, and he pulled back with a hiss of his pistons. Engine rattling unhappily at the separation. But, your comfort always came first.

Immediately, he was checking you over. A worried click of his vocalizer settling between you. “I…wasn’t too much, was I..?” His bright blue optics dimmed slightly and his finials perked. His sensors hadn’t picked up any physical discomfort, but mentality was always a fickle thing. 

Maybe he read your field wrong? He contemplated, It’s not like it’s his fault it was so fragging hard to pick up on.

Struggling to even get your brain to boot back up, you didn’t even notice the fact that the bot in front of you was having a mini crisis. Scared that scrap, he broke the human. How was he supposed to explain this to the team?

You were absolutely starstruck, your brain sailing high in the clouds on the wings of pure euphoria. When was the last time you had even felt something that good? That kiss had been so far out of this world–pun intended–that your mind was having a bit of a hard time coming back out of the stars. I’m sorry, but too much? You thought silently as his words finally floated into the mush of your hazy thoughts. This man cannot be serious. 

A repeated firm pat against your cheek brought you back. Crash landing your shuttle of daydreams right back down to the hard, serious surface of reality. You blinked a couple times before finally looking up at him. Him and his–very clearly–annoyed expression.

“It would be helpful if you could actually answer me, I do hope you know,” His finals twitched in slight, harmless, agitation. He wasn’t actually mad, just worried. Maybe he wasn’t always able to show it in the best way, but you had known him long enough to learn his tells.

Malleable metal creased slightly under his optical ridges in silent concern. Dimmed optics diligently scanned over your body for any sign of discomfort. Servos drifting over your skin for anything out of place. He cared through actions best, not words.

You couldn’t help the teasing tone that left your mouth, a smirk playing on your lips. “Well, then maybe you shouldn’t take my breath away so easily,” You gave the antenna of his back kibble a slight flick, drawing a stutter from his engine, before wrapping your arms up and around his helm. Messing him was child’s play.

Panic flickered across his features for just a moment. Plating hissing as it rose in stress, his digits gripping as his optics zeroed in on your chest. While generally perverted, you could tell he was checking whether your lungs had actually collapsed.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you probably wouldn’t be talking if they had.

“Take your breath away?!” His tone turned frantic, engine roaring loud and causing his frame to vibrate against you, “I didn’t mean to deprive you of air, oh I am a fo–” 

Fortunately, his concerned ranting was cut short when he saw the amused look on your features. Suddenly, his plating drooped with a click and hiss of steam as he gave you a clearly un-amused glare in return. 

“You were using one of your incredibly annoying Earth idioms, weren’t you. Need I remind you to not use those sort of phrases with a Doctor. I would feel this is obvious.”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you dragged a finger along one of his seams. Watching his finals perk slightly at the touch. He seemed to relax…albeit slightly. But hey! Slightly with Ratchet, in any capacity, was a celebration of its own!

“Loosen up Doc–” His wheels spun with displeasure at the nickname, finials flicking down, “You really need to stop thinking so much about it. Oh, and learn a bit more about human culture and phrases. They get so much worse from there.” Ratchet hearing the phrase ‘shit fire and save matches’ would probably send him into a spark-attack and a tirade you didn’t even want to imagine explaining to him…

…Although, the idea did seem quite amusing.

“And fill my processor with useless, and primitive, information? Puh-lease. I’d rather build a space bridge from scrap, than even attempt to understand you humans.” He grumbles, looking at you over. Clearly, still apprehensive about your physical wellbeing 

“You still never answered my question, you know.”

He really was worried about you, wasn’t he? The old softie…

Sighing, you gently rubbed along one of his finials. His helm shifted to follow the touch as you answered, “Ratchet, that was probably the best damn kiss I’ve ever had. Too good, in fact.” You hummed, smirking at him. Mirth sparkled in your eyes. “Have any more experiences you’d like to ‘share’ with me?”

The question was supposed to be playful, a simple teasing jab at his age and probably lack of experience. 

….Apparently, that was not the case.

“Not that you could handle.” He scoffed, the corners of his dermas twitching in a hidden smirk. Plates shifted as steam rolled through them. Your eyes widened like saucers at a sudden peak at his very much tucked away personality. Like a tiger eyeing its next meal through the chain-link of its enclosure.

This fucker! You thought, suddenly feeling like a kid who just watched the last of their favorite treat get swallowed up. How dare he keep sexy secrets from me. 

You sent him a deadly glare, an unappealing whine slipping from your throat. “That’s not fair, Ratch!”

The servo under your shirt shifted upwards slightly, digits caressing the curve of your spine. A breathy keen replaced your quick forming tirade and you couldn’t help leaning into the touch. His expression said it all for you. The medic knew exactly what he was doing.

Then again, he was a quick learner.

“What’s the phrase again? Life’s not fair?”

Oh, how you wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. The digits dancing along your back didn’t seem to want to help your stuttering mind from its predicament.

“Nevermind, no more human phrases for you.” You grumbled, recovering quickly. Knowledge was power, and human knowledge in Ratchet’s servos was like playing with fire. His knowledge of you–your ins and outs–was like dancing through hellflame, though.

Breath suddenly hitching as he leaned in close, he gently bumped his helm against your brow bone. Taking care to shift his chevrons out of the way, lest he accidentally stab you. He moved to speak–which was probably more stupid snark from his stupid (handsome) face in that stupid (attractive) tone–and you instantly took the opportunity to jolt forward. Slotting your lips against his, stalling his engine and actually drawing a surprised whoop of his sirens. The small snort of amusement you gave was incredibly short lived, as his servo gave a gentle tug of your hair.

 Your gasp, with the following undercurrent of a soft moan, gave him just enough of a chance to slip his glossa past your lips. The taste of iron and static charge sat against your tongue, and your eyes fluttered closed. Any sane person surely wouldn’t find enjoyment in such a strange mix of taste. But at this point, sane wasn’t even part of the equation. Not when you got a chance at riding with (on) the party ambulance. The grouchy, moody, but incredibly skilled and fine wine, agedly handsome party ambulance.

Imagining a younger, college age version of this bot sent blood pumping straight between your legs. Fuck, Cybertron had been lucky to witness the glory of prime-time Ratchet. Young, Fast, Energetic, and definitely a great–

The ever learning and observing medic settled his servos down along your hips now. Applying skillful and perfect pressure that pulled soft whines and moans from your mouth, and took you from your fantastical thoughts. You’d revisit those later…in the safety of your room, with the comfort of your…toys.

A quick learner who knew–and catalogued–just where to touch to mold your mind into such hazy thoughts. As if he knew just what you were thinking. Like he was silently saying to you, ‘I may not be young, but don’t think I’ve lost the energy and spunk to break your brains.’ Or something like that. Though, that may have just been your own mind saying that to you. Then again…with magic hands McGee over here, your brain even struggled to make its silent snide comments.

It clung desperately to any rationale it still held, not that any of it would last long enough. Not with eons old, intelligent as fuck, alien medic man pressed right up against you. Rumbling frame and hissing joints steadily working to clog your brain and untense your body. Biolights flashing a very alluring, tantalizing, pattern beneath the cracks of his armor plating. 

Just relax. They almost spoke to you. And damnit if you didn’t want to listen. Because you really really wanted to. You’d need to ask Ratchet about that later…when thinking wasn’t so hard…let alone speaking.

It probably would help if you didn’t have metal, and shockingly soft, lips moving so expertly against yours. Glossa slipping against your lips and pushing your own tongue down. Static sparkling deliciously against the roof of your mouth. A pleasant little buzz.

Ratchet pulled back just slightly, enough to look at your blissed out expression with a soft chuckle. He hasn’t seen that sort of effect since he was back in Medical School as a charged-up, naive mech. But by the gods, he still had it. And with a human, no less.

It made his wheels spin in pure excitement.

Thinking about it, the team wouldn't be back for a couple more groons. Having gone out on a scavenging mission for energon. And the old bot had needed a break for a good while. Optimus would certainly agree…

So, just this once, he supposed he’ll take what he deserves.

Settled in his reasoning, the aged mech slid his servos under your thighs and easily lifted you right up against the metal wall. Your back sat flush against it as his grip held you securely. The show of strength only caused your face to heat up significantly. Obviously, a human was like holding a bag of grapes compared to the metal these bots flung around regularly. But fuck if it wasn’t hot seeing how effortlessly Ratchet could fling you around.

Though you wished he'd just fling you into the nearest bed, this would do fine.

Locking his lips back up against yours, his engine rumbled loudly. Vibrating his entire frame against your body and sending pleasurable sensations down to the aching between your legs that so desperately needed some touch.

His vents and fans whirred at a deafening pace as his servos found purchase along your waist. Digits sunk gently into the plush skin as he held you pinned against the wall with his hips. Your legs settled along the runners of his hip guards and you just barely registered his antenna wagging at the movement. Like some overgrown, metal puppy. How adorable.

You silently thanked the gods that the kids weren’t here to witness this. 

Unfortunately, that was the last sensible thought your brain could make before Ratchet’s skillful touch dipped into your shorts. Completely shattering any rational idea from that moment on. At that moment all you could think was,

Thank you Primus for crafting this hunk of a wonderfully handsome, and incredibly skilled man. But please…just don’t let him break me.

[izsheum]

GOD IM DERANGEDDDDDDDD

thank you ann for showing me the guy who didnt like musicals…ratchet is now The Strange Biology Professor in my head.

sighs dreamily i wish he’d sing and dance to me while i was strapped to a chair and forced to watch

[l3ibnest]

A good doctor never ignores his patients

+)

[revelboo]

Carrying the pet headcanons

IDW Megatron x Reader, IDW Starscream x Reader, IDW Wheeljack x Reader, yeah, I’m not listing them all, but just how each mech handles/carries a human.

Starscream

• Carries you cradled against his chassis, servos curled partially around you. Tucks you inside his canopy if there are any other mechs about to hide you. He’s not exactly ashamed of you, more worried about you getting hurt to spite him. With how many enemies he’s made, he fully expects treachery. When he does allow you to ride on his shoulder, one big hand is always up, not touching you, but ready to grab you. It’s easy enough to tell he’s not the happiest with you perched there despite your insistence on being able to see. His wings stay aggressively up the whole time until you take pity on him to climb into his hand.

Thundercracker

• Doesn’t just grab you and it’s honestly adorable as he kneels and offers a huge hand to try and coax you to him like you might a stray dog. You’re pretty sure in his alien mind, you are a stray dog, but the novelty of not just being grabbed makes that realization more amusing than insulting. And his expression when you do willingly come to him to be picked up is too cute. He’s not above bribing you to him with little odds and ends he finds, including food of dubious origin.

Megatron

• Cages you carefully between his hands like a fragile moth he wants to inspect without hurting. For such a huge mech, he’s shockingly gentle with you. A lot of it is guilt, that dark tide constantly threatening to pull him under. Finds your presence soothing, but because of that same guilt, will pass you off to another caretaker given a chance. Can’t trust himself to not accidentally break you. He feels he definitely shouldn’t be entrusted with fragile things when all he’s good at is destruction. But he does love those quiet moments of contact, deserving of them or not.

Ratchet

• Picks you up to almost absentmindedly move you from getting under ped or if you’re just in his way while he’s working. He’s careful about how he handles you, but uncomfortable with just holding you like a favorite pet. Gets the award for being painfully awkward when he does have to carry you, because he’s sure you don’t enjoy being carried like a sparkling. He’s sure you resent it even if you never say a word. You don’t mind when it’s him picking you up. Those clever hands are so gentle with you and the longer he has to carry you, the more uncomfortable and gruff he gets.

Skywarp

• Absolute menace. Carries you like a toddler with their first kitten. One hand too tight around your middle as you hang upside down, because why carry you right side up when you change colors upside down? The more you struggle and swear, the funnier he finds it. Plus, he’s learning so many new, fun words and phrases to use. Most likely to accidentally, on purpose, drop you.

Whirl

• Not a lot better. He seizes you around the middle with one claw and carries you hanging awkwardly face down, arms and legs dangling and your hair in your face. Sometimes swings his arms, because your miserable groaning and complaints are too funny. Won’t hurt you intentionally despite acting like a jerk. Actually pretty protective of you and by his twisted logic, no one else is allowed to mess with you. Only him.

Wheeljack

• Doesn’t really carry you around unless there are other bots about. Honestly, isn’t sure how you feel about being picked up, but you’re so tiny compared to them and he gets anxious whenever he sees you walking in a hall with other Autobots. It doesn’t matter that he knows you’re in no danger. Those times, he makes a line straight for you, scooping you into his servos for your own safety. Half the time, he scares you silly because you hear running, heavy peds behind you, then you’re being grabbed. He means well and you appreciate how much he worries, but, really, you’re fine. The others see you. No one is going to step on you.

Soundwave

• Has a fondness for small things and even though you’re hardly one of his cassettes, will pick you up place you in his chest compartment if he finds you wandering about unsupervised. Being nabbed and dropped into the dark absolutely terrifies you at first, but you can see a dim glow in front of you and hear the hum of the big mech’s inner workings around you. It’s a surprise to both of you when you manage to fall asleep inside him. That cements it for him, he adopts you.

Bonus: Soundwave’s cassettes

• Frenzy seizes you around the middle under your arms and carries you around like a younger sibling, your toes dragging as you squirm to get away. Rumble would rather grab you by a leg and drag you kicking and protesting behind him just to see how long he can get away with it before Soundwave intervenes. As protective as the huge mech is, he’s surprisingly tolerant of his cassette’s mischief. You’re not being physically hurt? He’s allowing it. Cassetticons squabble- it’s how you set your boundaries. More than once, Lazerbeak has dive-bombed you, claws snagging the back of your shirt so he can lift you a foot or so up off the ground, because your terrified yelp sliding into angry swearing is too funny to him. May have dropped you once when your shirt just tears in his claws. Ravage prefers to nudge you along in the direction he wants you to go, but isn’t above carefully gripping your arm in his jaws to firmly tug you along if you’re resisting. Oddly enough, you grow resigned to your “older siblings” fast enough. You don’t really have a choice.

[michaela-o]

Wohoo some funky G/T art for ya all o(^▽^)o🧡

( i need more Elita one x fem human fics :,> )

[tinydefector]

Do you think cybertronians ever get a bit freaked out on how tough we are? Yes they can break us like toothpicks but humans seem to be able to take a good beating as well with adrenaline helping. Even our own body and oxygen trys kills us and yet we stick around like roaches. We're fragile in some reasonable and dumb ways and then resilient in the most dumbest ways.

Oh definitely, alot of the bots are very off put by how fragile humans are just in general and tend to avoid them.

But then there's the moments like Ratchet working a late shift and a small knock on the door alerts him someone's there, he turns around expecting it to be Rodimus or Whirl who he's about to scold but instead it's one of the humans and they look worse for wear. After fussing over them for a moment, detailed scans relay fractured ribs, a broken collar bone, and a heap of bruises and yet the humans just like. "Can I have some Panadol, Nurophen, and a glass of water?" Because they don't know what else to do its what they would get. Most of the times they ended up in the hospital. Ratchet is losing his God dawn mind as he rushes around looking for the best painkillers he can find for orgaincs in the smallest dosage he can give, hoping to primus it doesn't shut their heart down. In the end, they end up on a medication that makes them extremely drowsy, almost like the green whistle/ Weed.

Ratchet ends up doing alot of study on the human body and realises just how fucked up little monsters we are. We literally need oxygen to survive but he we have to much pure oxygen it will kill us. Water, we need a certain amount of it, if we don't have enough we will get dehydrated and die, if we have to much we will get water poisoning, intoxication, or a disruption of brain function. This happens when there's too much water in our cells, such as the brain and blood cells, causing them to swell. When the cells in the brain swell, they cause pressure in the brain, resulting in death. The issue is that it can become an addiction to drinking too much water for the effect it has on the body. Same with nearly everything we consume, it can kill us, but we need a lot of it in moderation.

Human: "I just need some basic pain killers and a nap"

Bot: "No, you need full surgery, sedations, and 3 weeks of recovery!"

Human: "nah she'll be fine!"

Bot: "Absolutely Not, bed now before I cuff you"

____________

Following that imagine a first contact AU where Cybertronians and humans are just slowly getting to know how the other works and next thing a human is kneeling over in horrific pain and it send the bots all into panic mode trying to help them, wondering what's happening and thinking they are dying. And the human after about ten minutes some pain killers still looking rather pale and unhealthy just go. "Sorry about that fuck I hate, Cramps/palpitations/ phantom pains/ and such" and the bots are just looking at them horrified like.

Bot: NOT NORMAL!!!"

Human: what you talking about?

Bot: everything that just happened you literally just short circuited!

Human: nah that's causal wait till you see the really funky shit.

______________

Human pet AU

Cybertronian's keeping humans as pets is like humans keeping hamsters. Humans are some of the most homicidal, suicidal and just deranged creatures that Cybertronian's could keep as pets. It's gotten to the point that they are a luxury/ exotic pet because if you do not feed them the right stuff, give them the right amount of light and socialising, and they will just die. There are so many Cybertronian's who take their human into clinics worried as and its just the human being a little bustard because they didn't get the treat they wanted 2 weeks ago and are still holding that grudge. Not to mention, we are prone to causing as much trouble and issue. We are like cats.

But we are also very easily sick and primus forbid a human gets sick because to a bot they think it's a death sentence for their sweet little spitfire of a human who they have had now for ages. And the human looks ready to die, and the next day, they are up and about like nothing ever happened.

Human: if you don't feed me the meals I want I'm going to pretend to die. If you do feed me what I want I might actually die because I shouldn't be eating it.

Panicked bot: "MY HUMAN HAS GOTTEN SICK. HELP!?!"

Human: totally worth it.

_________

In conclusion, the cybertronians are rather wary/ concerned about how resilient humans really are.

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[latehere]

coming back with more slop

[transformers-spike]

mmmm the intimacy of hand holding between bots and humans

[transformersxreader]

Hey guys, I know it’s been a long,long time since I’ve uploaded, I kinda got lost with everything around me but I’m feeling loads of better and stories are coming soon! ✨✌️ Accept these quick sketches of (Y/n) with a few transformers prime characters of what their children would look like!

[muletia]

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 <𝟑

[tfp] various x human!reader optimus / ratchet / bumblebee / smokescreen megatron / soundwave / starscream / knockout

word count: 2200

I know this has been done by others about 486212 times, but I wanted to share my own thoughts. I also know that Orion won the poll, but tbh I have slightly different plans for him that I’m seriously considering. I’ll share the details in a separate post soon <3

Optimus most often kisses the back of your hand

He learned this way of showing affection while delving into Earth’s culture. Perhaps he read about it in one of the books you recommended to him. Maybe he saw a scene where a gentleman kissed his chosen one exactly in that spot. What matters most to him is the meaning of such a kiss and the emotions tied to it.

Optimus could pour all his love into a single gesture. Demonstrate to the whole world that he has the most wonderful partner and is endlessly grateful for your presence in his life. Make such a kiss merely a greeting, but Optimus desires you to see the multifaceted nature of his feelings toward you

When he bows down and takes your hand in his servo, he wants to show the respect he holds for you. By brushing his thumb over the back of your hand, he demonstrates gentleness and support. Finally, by enveloping your knuckles with his lips, he pours all his adoration into the gesture. He reveals his admiration for you in the least intrusive way, so as not to overwhelm you with the true strength of his love. He shows respect, proving his gallantry

He wouldn’t hesitate to kneel on one knee during a hand kiss to further emphasize his feelings. To meet you at eye level, look optics to eyes, or make you look down on him. He would renounce the title of Prime in your honor. For you, he is simply Optimus, striving to unveil the boundless, infinite love he has for you <3

Ratchet most often kisses the top of your head

He is a busy mech, often working overtime on research and ensuring no Autobot faces health issues. He doesn’t have time to be romantic. He rarely takes you on rides, and persuading him to go for a walk around the hangar borders on a miracle. Even in his private habsuite, he only appears sporadically, sacrificing recharge for a few more hours of work. And constant exhaustion means using mass shifting is out of the question for fear of fainting and possibly harming you

Still, Ratchet wants to be a good partner—or at least try to be. To thank you for choosing such an old mech, despite being a young human, without having to say it outright. To convey what he struggles to say aloud. To appreciate your constant presence and the support you give him, even when you do nothing extraordinary

That’s why he loves kissing the top of your head. You don’t need to do anything special—just sit there reading a book—and suddenly you feel passion and gratitude in the touch of his lips on your hair. But before you can ask, Ratchet is already back at work, leaving behind only his silent love

He’s always gentle, blending the precision of a medic with the softness of affection in his kisses. Sometimes he lingers there a little longer, taking in the scent of your shampoo, experiencing the unique texture of your hair—both firm and fluffy. If he’s feeling particularly sentimental, he wraps his servo around your back. It’s his way of showing he’s there for you, even when his work often keeps him away. To remind you of his feelings, that they still hold him firmly by the spark <3

Smokescreen loves kissing you on the lips

He’s a young mech, full of energy and hungry for experiences. That vitality is something he wants to share in his kisses, along with his passion for life—and most importantly, his weakness for you.

He seizes every possible opportunity. Greeting you, saying goodbye, or simply showing affection. He always aims for your lips, even in front of others, as he has no problem with PDA. Besides, he wants others to know you’re taken. That you belong to him, just as he belongs to you. And there’s no better way to express that than through a kiss

He loves catching you off guard. First, he runs his servo through your hair, then leans in to kiss one corner of your mouth, only to immediately claim your lips because he has no patience for the other corner

It’s worth noting that he’s terrible at kissing due to a lack of experience. He focuses more on showing than perfecting, losing his senses around you, always craving more and more. His intake moves impulsively across your lips, chasing the motion of your mouth, often outpacing you in his insatiable appetite for affection. Eventually, it leaves you with swollen lips, breathless, and a very satisfied Smokey, already eager for the next make-out session <3

Bumblebee places kisses on your cheeks

Or at least he would, if his lips were accessible. As a young mech fascinated by human culture and well-versed in its nuances, he knows how significant kisses are in human relationships. It pains him deeply that he can’t give you such an important experience, no matter how often you reassure him it’s not his fault and that you don’t hold it against him. Bee still feels disheartened about it. That’s why he’s come up with his own way of showing physical affection

He nuzzles your cheeks with his battle mask, always remembering to do both sides. It’s a sweet gesture he’s utterly addicted to, so much so that he’ll “kiss” you this way at every opportunity. Greeting you, he caresses your cheeks, chirping cheerfully and listening to the melody of your radiant laughter, immensely pleased that he’s its source

If he’s mass shifted, he always pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your back, practically supporting your entire weight against his chassis. In this position, he has perfect access to your face, which he overzealously takes advantage of. He snuggles into the softness of your cheek, tracing uneven circles and pushing his mask forward as if truly planting a kiss. If only he could, he’d spend an eternity pampering your face, pouring all his nonverbal love into the gesture <3

Megatron particularly loves kisses on the palm of your hand

At first, he simply wanted to surprise you with his tenderness. To prove that he even possesses it, doubting your trust that he could be anything more than a domineering, unfeeling tyrant. That’s why, when he first took your hand and placed a kiss in its center, he got exactly the reaction he anticipated: surprise, but also bashfulness, that the mighty Megatron could treat you with such calculated delicacy

Over time, such kisses became almost an everyday occurrence for you both. He leaves kisses to draw your attention when you’re lost in thought, focused on something other than him. To elicit the reaction he desires, to see the smile on your face and that captivating shyness, so rare in your usual demeanor

He grabs your wrist to guide your forearm into supination, bringing your hand to his lips with a roguish grin because he knows he’ll surprise you again. His kisses in that spot are subtle, unhurried, but they remind you always to think of him. He always looks straight into your eyes, as if showing respect—or perhaps issuing a challenge? Or maybe, deep within his spark, he’s a gentleman

It’s undeniable that he has class. He’s calculated and self-assured, traits that carry over to his kisses. He always knows exactly where to "strike" to tickle you or send shivers down your spine. He knows the effect he has on you—how you squirm when he lets his shark-like teeth lightly graze your skin, mocking your self-control. In a way, he plays with you, teasing only to stop and move to another spot, this time the base of your thumb. Again, he proves his tenderness, cherishing and adoring, only to move to yet another place, striving to show you that his feelings for you burn as fiercely as the values he believes in <3

Soundwave loves to kiss your forehead

Another mech without a mouth who’s devised his own way of compensating for having a display screen instead of a face and a human significant other. With access to all the information on the internet, he knows well that humans love kissing and that it’s important to them. That’s why he’s determined not to deprive you of this pleasure, to not deny you something you deserve due to his anatomical limitation

So, Soundwave touches his forehead to yours. It’s a delicate gesture but carries the weight of his complex and multilayered feelings for you. It shows that he cares, that he’s there for you—even when he spends countless hours standing by a console. He doesn’t need breaks, capable of working endlessly, but for you, breaks have become a daily ritual in his life, just to prove that he’s with you, not just in thought

He pulls you close until you’re level with his faceplate, tilting his helm to connect your foreheads in an unusual yet tender kiss. He loves when you close your eyes during this gesture, giving him tangible proof that this form of affection satisfies you and that you’re content with his efforts, no matter how minimal they might seem. You validate him, giving him a sense of trust that you don’t regret entering a relationship with him

Sometimes, he tilts his helm in a similar gesture while working, as if kissing you from afar. Manifesting you suddenly before him, so he could spend hours in such a position, foreheads melded together in a silent confession of love. He often misses you, and that longing later translates into prolonged sessions of such kisses, as he strokes your forehead with his, trying to pour all his feelings into the gesture <3

Starscream most often kisses your neck

Not necessarily to spark desire and lure you to the berth. Starscream isn’t a sappy mech. He’s not romantic, but his kisses bear the weight of his complicated and uneasy feelings for you. Sometimes they’re soft and sweet; other times, they’re fierce and fiery, trying to engulf you in flames of yearning. He has no qualms about kissing your hand to achieve a similar effect, but kisses on the neck hold great significance for him

He can lose himself in them—in the sensation of skin beneath his lips, the warmth radiating from it. The bones pressing against the flesh, the moles, scars, and marks. Above all, he loses himself in the feeling of reducing the world to your form alone. In the hollow of your neck, he hides from the demons that haunt him. He doesn’t feel Megatron’s breath on his nape, nor the impossible duties, broken promises, and missteps. There’s only you and the safety you offer, even if you can’t truly protect him

He can spend hours like this—or as long as his duties aboard the Nemesis allow—exploring your neck with his lips. Sometimes, he nips at your skin when he wants to extract a compliment from you, but most of the time, he tries to be gentle, as much as his ego permits. Hidden and surrounded by you, grateful for your presence, though he’ll never say it aloud

With his limbs wrapped around you, he pulls you to his chassis. There’s no escape from this trap; Starscream ensures you sit perfectly before him, where he has ideal access to your exposed neck still bearing traces of your previous rendezvous. He immediately buries his helm in your softness, kissing a trail from your collarbone to your ear. Subtle at times, yet swift, as if trying to devour you—eager to seize the rare opportunity for genuine and natural contentment obtained without schemes or deception. Just you and him, mutually showering each other with affection <3

It’s no surprise that Knockout adores French kisses

However, to "mature" to them, the Decepticons’ sex symbol has to overcome a long road of shedding his phobia of human bodily fluids. Only then does he discover how incredibly satisfying it is to explore your intakes with his glossa. How much passion he can convey through this gesture, showing desire not just through interfacing

He usually catches you off guard. Maybe you weren’t paying him enough attention, or maybe he just suddenly felt the urge to kiss you. He places his servos on either side of you, trapping you with no way out, and starts to charm you before launching into fireworks

He quickly learned what to do to make a kiss anything but average. It took a few tries—in the beginning, your kisses felt more like bumping faces—but Knockout has a knack for kissing. He can adapt to your rhythm or set his own. With unrelenting fervor and intensity, he explores the depths of your mouth. He never cares if anyone’s watching or not

Knockout can be quite possessive, a trait that shows in his kisses. He’s not bothered by PDA; any fear of your relationship being exposed to the public has long been forgotten when he can show everyone who you belong to. This often impacts his patients, who must patiently wait until Knockout reaches a satisfactory level of affection to pull away. Otherwise, you’re inseparable.

He won’t let go until he’s sure he’s poured all his feelings into the kiss—the ugly and the tender, the physical and the ones rooted in his spark

He always leaves you breathless with his intensity and passion, ending with a fleeting peck on your lips. <3

[yandere-wishes]

The more I study electronics the more I'm positive whoever came up with Transformers smut terms was studying something in the electronics engineering field.

[eminemily05]

As someone who’s prone to moments of major audial/visual overstimulation, I like to think Ratchet would be the most understanding and let me chill out in his vehicle mode

Majorly self-indulgent, I’m not gonna lie. But I’m not ashamed, haha

[izsheum]

someone take away my drawing privileges

i don’t care if the size difference isn’t accurate I WANT TO RIDE ON HIS SHOULDERS RAHHHHHH

[hello-gloomy]

'Every doctor should have one.'

Ratchet x Fem!Reader

SMUT MDNI 18+

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Description: Ratchet offers to pick you up after an "event" at a friend's house. Arriving and seeing you walk out after he initially said bye to you that night, he sees just what kind of party it was and what you wore to it.

Warnings: Maybe OOC, horny, lots of describing of the reader's outfit. No penetration, and not really descriptive of smut, but it is there, I promise.

A/N: It came to me in a dream, and I just had to write it; I hope I did our lovely doc justice. Also, don't be mad that I cut off the good stuff; maybe I'll do more like this if you guys actually like it.

Words: 874

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He didn't know what made his helm hurt more: the thumping music from the giant house he was currently parked in front of or the strobing lights bleeding through the windows and open doors. He's getting more irritated by the minute of the thought of his cover being blown; it's a bit odd for an ambulance to be sitting outside of a human habisuite, especially if it is not there to take care of the injured or for an emergency. He almost texts you again until he sees you strut out with multiple locals surrounding you; he has to do a double take and just about reset his optics. His engine revs up at the sight of it, a high-collared white latex nurse uniform that stops above your thigh, paired with the medical cross in orange, his orange. Your nurse's hat has the same cross in orange; your white tights lead down to a pair of black heels. Primus, seeing you just made him want to grab you in front of everyone here. Your head turns in his direction at the sound of the engine, and you wave at him. The people surrounding you looked over at him as well. He flashed his lights a few times, and you smiled back. You waltz up to him with a few others still trailing behind you, amazed that you had an ambulance for a ride.

"How the hell did you get an ambulance?" One of the boys by you asked while you started touching the hood of Ratchet.

"My lover owns it, and let me borrow him for the night." You tell him while pushing your body more into Ratchet before hopping up and sitting on his hood. You continue to rub him while you chat with the last few curious people about your ride. All the while, Ratchet was trying not to overheat from having your ass directly on him and not being able to do anything about it. You say your final goodbyes and slap Ratchet before jumping off and entering the driver's seat. You drive in relative silence, waiting for him to complain or even fuss.

"Is your underwear my orange as well?" He starts evenly, and you have to steel yourself not to drop your jaw at his boldness.

"Did you take a hit of synth-en before you came and got me?" You tease while gripping the steering wheel; you can feel his gaze on you even though you don't know where he's looking from in his alt-mode. His engine hums a bit louder before he speaks again.

"Are you even wearing a bra?" he asks lowly. That dress looks so tight." You are grinning so hard at his crassness tonight; you love it when he drops the 'I don't care about anyone' attitude.

"Wanna see the answer to your first question?" You ask as he stops in front of your garage, and never have you been more grateful to live a bit farther from town than now. He turns off his headlights, and you take that as your cue to spread your legs; he moves your seat back a bit, which makes you let out a little squeak. He lets out a little sigh while looking at you. You run your hands down your chest to give him a little show before you show him the answer to his second question. You drag your hand back up your chest and then to your neck; you grab the zipper and slowly pull it down your body. You stop halfway down your naval, slightly pushing the fabric away from your chest. You heard him let out a soft gasp.

"So, doctor, what is your diagnosis?" You ask him sweetly while leaning further back into his seating, spreading your legs a bit further while playing with the edge of your dress.

"Well, I'll have to take a closer look," he tells you. You unbuckle the seat belt, fixing your dress just a little bit, and he transforms back to his bipedal mode. He leans down to your level and then scoops you up in his hands, holding you close to his face, smelling you, and rubbing you against his intake, giving little nips to the bare area of your chest where you opened it originally.

"Mhm, such a pretty nurse you are." He whispers close to your face while giving you little kisses.

"Every doctor should have one." You giggle back before moaning when he nudges his faceplate between your legs; he moves the fabric to the side so he can taste you better. Arching your back into his large glossa, you grind into him while he uses one of his digits to rub your chest. He keeps rubbing and licking and sucking until you gasp and let out a shout of his name. He slows down his ministrations on you; while you catch your breath, he moves to lay against the side of your house. You watch him while you calm down before patting his servo, holding you, and sliding down to his modesty panel. You give him a few grinds, and he groans in response before you stop and smile up at him.

"Care for me to give you a little check-up?"

[revelboo]

Assorted headcanons- scenarios 🌶️ 18+

Starscream x Reader, Megatron x Reader, Jazz x Reader, Wheeljack x Reader, Bluestreak x Reader, Prowl x Reader, Thundercracker x Reader, others. G1/IDW, TFP, TF One. Mass-displaced Cybertronians x reader scene pack- no plot here

Sorry, not sorry at all.

IDW/G1 Starscream

• Kneeling, body bowed over yours, he chuckles and runs his servos over your rib cage. “Something wrong?” He almost purrs the words, lips twisting knowingly. With your hips up, thighs spread over his you can’t get any leverage. Can’t move and you desperately need to, feeling the thick length of his spike pulsing where it’s buried inside you. You tuck your chin to glare up at him, but his optics are focused on where you’re joined, almost seeming fascinated with watching himself slowly rock against you, his spike slick as it disappears inside you before he glances at you, sly expression growing wicked. “Say it.”

• “Please. Please move,” you growl at him voice straining, trying to wiggle and he leans back, servos tightening on your soft hips to pin you still with him buried deep right where he belongs. Teasing his own control and yours. Wings flicking, he studies your flushed face as your thighs clench around him, struggling in frustration. Needing him. Only him, because you’re his. “Star.” Your voice hitches, begging for him and his restraint shatters. Shifting to stretch out over you, he begins to move. You cling to him as he drives into your wet heat, adoring those softy needy sounds you make and the way you feel like you’re made just to take his spike.

TFP Megatron

• Coiling the length of your leash around his fist, he buries his face against the softness of your throat as he covers your much smaller frame. He lets his claws play over your core, testing how wet you are for him. Feeling you squirm as he runs his chain wrapped servos along your belly and up to caress the delicate line of your jaw with a claw tip. Those sharp denta tease the skin of your shoulder, biting just hard enough to send little sparks of pain through you to mix with the need coiling you tight. Leaving marks so there’s no doubt who you belong to.

• Trembling in need as he palms your throat with a hand, draping himself against your back on his knees and a fist planted against the berth. You can feel his spike against your inner thigh branding you with his body heat, leaving a wet trail as his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Such a good little pet,” he growls, before his mouth slides down along your throat to your shoulder. You don’t even have time to form a retort or get offended about the pet comment, before he’s spearing you on his spike and you brace as that first thrust almost sends your sprawling face down. Then he’s firmly pressing against your nape until you surrender with a whimper, chest down, hips up as he ruts against you with a possessive snarl, pace relentless.

TFP Soundwave

• That soundless hum crackles over you, through you in an electric rush that lifts the fine hair at your nape as he settles against you and that tingling awareness washes over you. Arching against his grip as he uses those tendrils like built in shibari to restrain you. Pin you immobile where he wants you. Positioned how he wants.

• Everywhere his flesh meets yours, more of you sinks into him, giving everything you are to him as he presses his forehead to yours, servos sliding down your sides. There’ll be no keeping your thoughts out, no mental walls between you as he spreads you to him, holding you immobile and gripping himself, slides the head of his spike against your slick heat. Your need lashes at him, demanding wordlessly and he can’t deny you. Uses his tendrils to pull you down onto his spike and shuddering as your heat, your thoughts, all of you, envelopes him. Those little noises you make as he claims you almost musical.

G1/IDW Prowl

• “Screw you,” you curl your lip at him. “You can’t just crook a finger and I’ll come running.” The first time had been an accident. How were you supposed to know that if you kept pushing his buttons he’d react that way. Your back thumps against the wall, his fist smacking against the wall as he glares down at you, all frustration and heat and hunger. It’s a feeling you understand all too well as his mouth crashes against yours with bruising force. It’s not a kiss, so much as a domination. And then he’s gripping you, lifting you to pin against the wall with casual strength, settling himself between your thighs so you can’t shut him out. You don’t like him, you’re pretty sure he hates you, but the both of you are equally screwed by how much you enjoy angry sex.

• You bite his lip hard, hands shoving at him like you can actually force him to budge and he nips back, hearing your sharp intake of breath, those angry eyes flashing that he drew blood. He’s almost certain you’d do the same if you could, can feel your fingernails digging into the seams in his armor, biting into the mesh there. Trying to hurt him, mark him as yours. You can hate him all you like, glare and snap at him, but you want him. Want this. A fact that winds him tight as he pulls back enough that he can line your bodies up, find that wet heat and thrust into you. You cling to him, legs hooking around him as he bucks into you and your lips and mouth press whimpering kisses against his throat. Needing him. Hating him. Begging and cursing.

G1/IDW Bluestreak

• His servos tunnel into the softness of your hair, lips running over your jaw up to the corner of your mouth. Internal systems hitching as you shift on top of him where he’s sprawled and the servos of his other hand tighten and almost immediately relax against your hip. Fighting himself and the urge to just move you where he needs you so he can drive up into that tight, wet heat. Your blunt little teeth nip at his lip, soft fingers playing with the mesh of his protoarmor under his jaw. And you shift against him, sitting up on his chassis, eyes dark with need, hair messy from his servos.

• Bluestreak’s head is thrown back, denta bared like he’s in pain as he curls his warm hands around your waist. Every rough vent blowing across your sweat slicked skin as you brace your palms on his chassis and rock back. Sliding yourself against his spike until he shudders under you, servos tightening on you so much you know there’ll be bruises later. “Please,” he growls, optics gorgeous as he looks up at you, that hungry stare almost worshipful. Making you feel powerful as you reach back to find him, grip his pulsing spike and lower yourself on him. His venting hitches under you, hips lifting as he groans in Cybertronian, seeming to forget you can’t understand him now as his hands slide down your waist to your hips and he pulls you the rest of the way down to take all of him. Now you’re throwing your head back as he uses his grip to grind himself against you, still murmuring softly in his language. As soon as his grip eases, you brace your palms and ride him, hips rolling.

G1/IDW Thundercracker

• “Please,” that soft, almost whining whimper strokes over him as he lazily rolls his hips. “Thundercracker, I can’t.” Pinning you on your belly, legs spread so you can’t try and shut him out, his arm hooked under you just enough to keep your hips tilted where he needs them as he keeps rocking himself into you, he smiles indulgently. Feeling your slick heat quivering around his spike as he nudges you toward that peak again just so he can fill you again, because you definitely can for him. His wings shiver in lazy little tremors as he feels you clench around his spike.

• “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, lips tenderly brushing the back of your shoulder as he thrusts a bit harder, his servos flexing under you, brushing where you’re joined so you gasp and moan. He’s trying to kill you with pleasure, coaxing and demanding until your tired body is coiling again. Until you need it again as he adjusts his angle, spike stroking inside you and you’re crying out again, shattering. And he groans as you fist his spike, taking him along with you.

G1/IDW Jazz

• “Frag, doll,” he groans, the ragged sound of his voice winding you up as your arch under him. Servos span your sides and glide up, pulling your arms up and pinning your wrists as he rolls his hips, that big spike driving deep inside you. He’s not letting your hands loose since the feel of your hands on his spike had nearly done him in if his ragged venting is any indication. Makes you wonder what he’d do if it was your mouth on him and what kind of noises he’d make. You hook a leg over his hip, bucking your hips to chase after your own pleasure, because it’s so close. As he snarls at you in Cybertronian, you’re almost certain he’s swearing at you.

• Primus, how can you be so tight? Your heel digs into him as you grind yourself against him and he almost bites his glossa. You apparently have no patience, don’t want gentle or slow. And honestly? That’s fine by him. Growling soft, little nothings in your ear, he stops holding back. There it is, your head thrown back as he pounds into you, tenuous control fraying. Crying out his name as he takes you.

TF One Megatron

• He likes this view of you, your body spread open under him, as he props himself up on an arm. The ragged sounds of pleasure you make just for him and the wet heat of you around his spike. Fingers of his other hand sliding over the fragile line of your throat, he bucks into you, chasing down his release. You writhe under him, little pleas falling from your lips. Begging him so sweetly as he thrusts harder.

• He shifts over you, hips pinning yours to the berth as his thrusts grow more urgent and you can only hook your legs around him as he ruts into you, losing all control and it’s a powerful feeling to know you do this to him. He’s always reminding you that you’re his, but that just means he belongs to you, too. Especially as his rhythm quickens and he slides a hand under the back of your head and presses his face against your throat as you cry out, warm tremors crashing through you as his denta grip your shoulder with a snarl. Hard enough to leave a mark on that soft skin.

G1/IDW Ratchet

• Those little teeth try to bite the palm he has covering your mouth as he ruts into you from behind. The container he’s pinned you on your belly on with your hips and legs hanging is just tall enough you can’t reach the ground. Can’t do anything but squirm as he claims what’s his. Taking you like this in the medbay where anyone might walk in hadn’t been the plan, but you’d started it.

• Feeling every, deep drive of his hips, you cling to his forearm. All because you’d felt bad for Fowler getting hell from his supervisor. All you’d done was touch the guy’s arm in platonic sympathy. Next thing you know, Ratchet is picking you up in his servos, locking you both in the medbay. And taking out some pent up frustration on you, not that your complaining as you writhe under him. He stops trying to muffle your cries, gripping your hips in both hands so he can drag you back to meet his urgent thrusts and the wet sound of your bodies meeting, the feel of him inside you mixes with his rough, growling venting to send you over that edge.

G1/IDW Wheeljack

• Little hands on his vocal indicators. A soft mouth against his throat and the feel of you wrapped around his spike, so tight and wet. His hands tremble as they ghost over your ribs, scared if he holds you, his grip might bruise that soft flesh. Scared he might do something that makes you stop. So he just sits still, growling softly, systems revving as you roll your hips against his. Perched in his lap as you torment him with that slick heat and your slow, cautious rhythm. The feel of you anchoring him.

• He’s trembling under you as you ride his spike. His head falling back, vocal indicators flickering mauve. Over and over you feel his servos barely there against your cheek, your side, or your hip. Needing more contact and being denied because he seems to think he’ll break you. Pressing soft kisses against his throat, you roll your hips almost dancing in his lap. Moaning against his jaw and tracing the mesh of his neck with the tip of your tongue. And then finally whatever was holding him back snaps. Those big hands find your hips and he’s in control, thrusting up inside you as he pulls you down to meet him.

[michaela-o]

A few more sketches 🥹🧡

And a very unfinished sketch of Elita🛐