#whirl (IDW)

[rollersfataft]

[that1overthere]

CyWhirl... beloved

[aircommandr]

first time drawing whirl too i need a round of applause

[fishofmanynames]

[palkea]

whirlposting.png

[twelvegirl]

obsessed with this thing

[villainsposting]

A small collection of Whirl Moments™ I saved while reading MTMTE + Lost Light

Bonus: Whirl deciding to sprawl out in the middle of a very cramped shuttle because fuck everybody I guess

[orionsymphony]

waow this is my first post in two years but here’s the silly helicopter man…… oh boy do i love him so

[jaylestial]

Transformers Inktober Day 8 - Whirl 💛🚁💙

I took on a really big project starring Whirl over the summer, and actually drew this completely from memory because of how much I had to draw him hehe… I cannot wait to share that with you all once the project is released 🤭💙

I love him a lot…

[sansan-ba]

cyclonus would beat the shit out of whirl right then and there if it didn't look like he was an adult woman hitting a rowdy teenager

[spxartblog]

Teehee

[starsh0ck]

Did this little colourwheel thing I saw on twitter!

I may do this again with more women/nonbinary characters

[dragonblobz]

"Sorry Swerve. I need the secret password."

Ah, Whirl. My favorite murderchicken *affectionate*

[wifetomegatron]

and you're feeling, you're hungry ( whirl / reader )

summary : rough sex with whirl (first contact au) pairing : whirl (idw) / afab! reader fandom : transformers idw continuity, more than meets the eye rating : e for explicit, minors don’t interact (mdni!), not safe for work (nsfw!) warnings : human!reader, smut, sticky sexual interfacing, cursing tags : no plot, pure filth. skirt mentioned. repost from ao3

“ What?”

The word was barely short of a hiccup — a burst of static — croaking out of his cables. You tried staring at Whirl passively, failing to hide the way your hands were slightly trembling. 

“ I…I’ve seen the way you look at me.” 

The Mech scoffed, crossing the distance between you to rest a metal claw inches away from the right side of your hips. He moved quickly, venting hot air across your cheeks. All you could do was turn your head to the side, unknowingly giving him access to pin your neck with his other claw. He pressed down — far from gentle. In your head, the word can never coexist with Whirl. 

He looked angry. You could feel his self-restraint crumbling when he shoved the side of his helm across your temple; bumping into your skin. The metal was hot — nearly burning — while he whispered directly into your ear.

" And how do I look at you, fleshie?"

He squeezed your hip, the pinch earning him a gasp. The cold texture of the wall clashed with the heat radiating off his metal chest. And you were trapped in between. The more you squirmed, the tighter he held you. And finally, his patience snapped, and Whirl pushed a knee between your legs, spreading them apart to emphasise his frustration.

" How ?"

You know he doesn't need to breathe, but fuck does he sound breathless, overwhelmed with impatience as he searches your eyes with his glowing optic. His other claw — inching your shirt up your stomach.

Whirl was dangerous. Loud and explosive, Whirl was on the list of mechs banned from coming into close contact with the human personnel working inside the Autobot facility. And the day you had your orientation, Whirl had rioted at the decision, choosing to wreak havoc and nearly squishing ten people under his pedes. Far from predictable, Ultra Magnus's direct order to every human was to steer clear of him. As a response, Whirl declared aloud in the auditorium that humans were a revolting, disgusting species, barely caught up with evolution. The finality in his tone — clear as day when he singled you out of the frightened crowd, glaring with the same, consistent hostility he gives you each morning. 

You almost told Ultra Magnus you wanted to be repositioned because it was hard being a receptionist stationed across the same door your local racist bursts through.

So to be stuck in your office alone with him, two hours past lights off, with your keycard meters away ��� you can't help but feel a little afraid. But you would be lying if you said you weren't growing wetter by the minute. Because Whirl acts like he hates you, but you know better. 

When you bend down to pick up the papers he purposely knocks off your desk.

When you feel the hair behind your neck prickling during meetings. 

When his claw is fondling with the fabric of your shirt and his knee is up your crotch

Whirl is always staring. Excitement shamelessly crawled its way down your spine, fueling your courage. Because you know better.

" Like you want to fuck me."

And that was enough to break him. Unfiltered and acting on sheer want, Whirl was touching you, fondling you — boldly dragging metal claws all over your skin, ripping buttons, and shoving up your skirt. He cupped a breast in one hand and started grinding, roughly against your cunt, yet you made no move to shove him away. The sloppy friction from your panties rubbing against the smooth surface of his leg was enough to make your knees wobble; surrendering most of your weight onto Whirl as he frantically rubs up and down your waist.

" Frag. Frag. Frag . So fragging soft for me. I'm leaking all over my panels just thinking about spiking you. Do you want that? I bet you do. Look at how wet you are. "

He can't kiss you, but that didn't stop Whirl from burying his head against your chest, the hard edges of his metal body sticking into your sternum and ribs almost painfully — before you could protest, he pinched a nipple, and you moaned into the wires lined along his neck. Your head lolled against his shoulder, body limp and yielding, all for him to use. And so Whirl bounced you once, twice, against his knee as if to command your attention.

" Touch yourself. Frag yourself. And until you overload, I won't let you leave this room."

Whirl has always had a mean streak to him, and never in your right mind would you ever thought of encouraging that side of him. Yet here you are, far from sane and close to falling apart, going for two fingers at once — adding to the ongoing mixture of pain and pleasure, relishing in the burn of the spread, eyes rolling back as Whirl watches in amusement. It was obscene, sick almost, but he was thrumming in delight. His engines purr as he guides the base of your wrist in and out, in and out. 

" I wish I  can touch you myself," He groaned, opting to lay the flat side of his claw against your swollen cunt, making you jump.  " Let's see if you feel as soft as you look, fleshie."

You wanted to taunt him. To look him in the eye and accuse him of having fantasized about this exact moment for a while now. From the way he knows where to touch you, lift you — pleasure you; Whirl never hated humans in the first place. He was just never brave enough to admit that he wanted to fuck one. Yet your words were a babble of nonsense, swept under the sudden rush of pleasure as he flicked and rolled your clit.

There was a hiss, the sound of his panels retracting, and he pulled your fingers away just when you were at the height of your orgasm — the brief emptiness suddenly replaced by an overwhelming stretch. You instinctively clenched down, gasping, as he buries himself into you. Even with his mass displaced, he was big, big enough to draw tears down your cheek. Once he's at the hilt, Whirl lets out a laugh. The harsh, barking sound melted into a euphoric groan.

" You've fragging ruined me," He scolds, pistoning into a brutal pace, " Fragging. Ruined. Me. For. Everyone. Else." He punctuates each word with a thrust, earning a string of huffs and pants.

" Louder for me. Louder. Wake the whole base so they can see how pretty you fit around my spike."

Wicked. That was what Whirl was. He was perverse, dirty, and wicked as he continued on and on and on to torture you in that cubicle. You clenched around him each time he lifted you up to drag you back down, feeling so full. Past your lips was a high, helpless noise as liquid, molten heat spread inside you, shaking every muscle. When you came, you were leaving open-mouthed kisses along his chest, breathing in oil and tasting rust. Whirl responded by jerking roughly, shaking with adrenaline. 

Transfluid was leaking down your thighs, glowing against the dimly lit space. Whirl held you upright, flush against his armor, as you watched the liquid drip in fascination. And for a couple of minutes, all you could focus on was the sound of his cooling fans roaring. This was probably the longest Whirl went without talking. You dared lift your head to meet his gaze. 

He was already watching you, searing the sight of you helpless and fucked out of your mind into the back of his optics.   

And swiftly, the Mech scooped you up and dumped you on top of your table, callously pushing the stack of paperwork and your desk lamp onto the floor. There were broken shards of the bulb scattered beneath. Whirl didn't seem to care — focused instead on your shallow breathing as he lined your ankles to rest on either side of his neck. His body curved and bowed, hips pressed hard against you, arms below your body, and claws gripping your shoulders.

" I'm not done with you yet."

[x0011001100x]

[xjackieism]

FLATTERED WHIRL ART FOR THE SOUL