🍎Piie

“Aw, shyin’ away from me already?” Impactor cooed out a tease, he was enjoying this far too much for his liking. The two digits prodding around valve mesh in an experimental desire, mesh folds soaked as felt the lubricant ooze onto his mechanical digit. His harpoon that replaced a servo served to keep you in place, the weaponed arm not allowing you to squirm away with how it was pressed up against your frame.

You, who found yourself unfortunate enough to be taken hostage on his lap, whined helplessly as you felt his touch over such an intimate region so carelessly. Impactor’s engine practically revved, pleased with your little reactions. He relished the power he had here. A meek engineer class Decepticon, you didn't even have a gun when you were unfortunate enough to run into him during your escape and Impactor was at least an entire helm and a half taller than you. You barely reached up to his neck in height. It was a treat for him. It wasn’t every day he got to have a different sort of fun for once. Especially with a real pretty one.

You whimper, you were so sensitive right now from his torturous touches. Impactor loved it so much. He remembers how you made sure to let him know that you didn't like him. Not like he cared though. He was the Commander of the Wreckers and Autobot warcriminal here. Impactor could make the demands and you’d have to follow. Your entire unit (a bunch of afts honestly) was wiped away when the Wreckers got to the planet all of you stopped at to stock supplies. With little to no battle experience, you hid like the coward you were and seized the opportunity to make a run for it when you assumed they had left. Only to run into the worst Autobot to ever run into if you were a Decepticon. Impactor himself, in the metal. And so here you were, splayed open, bare and exposed for Impactor to toy with, for him to experiment on in exchange for not being killed. In a secluded area, an abandoned berthroom within your Decepticon ship, away from Springer and the rest of the crew who’d definitely be quick to spoil Impactor’s fun.

“Don’t want me seein’ your pretty little array hm?” He chuckles at how coy you are, bashful and utterly humiliated. Impactor thought it suited you. A good look. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think it was cute. You try to shut your legs but he could easily part them as if they were just twigs. Impactor’s spike ached in its housing, his modesty panels not off yet. Charge surged beneath.

He could feel your internal temperatures rising, you were getting off to this. Your cooling fans worked overtime to keep you from overheating, the loud whirr of your cooling fans was the only other sound that you’d make other than pleasured noises and sounds of your venting. His own fans worked at a lower tempo. It seemed you were simply too humiliated to say anything back to him. But he didn’t mind it, he thought the silence made you look adorable.

Impactor manually removes his panelling, his aching spike sprung out as his biolights pulsed with arousal, lubricant and pre-fluids dribbling down the appendage. You look down at the sheer girth, definitely dreading your choice to save your own helm. He was an entire size class above you so it wasn’t supposed to be surprising but there was no way by the Pits that was going inside you. Impactor can’t help but give out an amused smile at your reaction.

“Suck. ‘N I want your array facin’ me.” He commanded and you obliged reluctantly, slowly getting up from his lap as he laid down, leaning up a little. You crawl on top of him, intake near his spike. You gently caress the throbbing appendage in your servos, slender digits wrapping around the base as you slowly take the tip into your intake and he groans at the sensation. The metallic tang of lubricant and pre-fluids against your glossa was not pleasant but nothing about this situation was. You bob your helm down his spike, taking as much of his spike as you could into your intake.

He lets out a deep raspy groan when he feels your glossa swirl around the tip as you sucked. “Keep suckin’ like that ‘n maybe I’ll just have to reward you.” He encouraged, you definitely knew how to use your glossa. Impactor was not expecting such a good performance from you but he wasn’t going to complain. His free servo grips your hip-struts, the much larger servo pulling your backside closer to his face as he leaned up a little to see your drenched valve glistening with charge and lubricant. Your frame certainly enjoys this and it amuses him.

“Such a slut. Getting off to suckin’ spike.” He chuckled close to your array as two of his digits parted your puffy valve lips slowly, earning a muffled whine down on his spike. Impactor could see your arousal leak out and drip onto his chassis and he could see how the vibrations of his voice so close to your fluttering valve definitely had a positive effect on you. His digits didn’t enter, wanting to keep you on edge but even then, he could feel how warm and wet you were, lubricant oozing onto his two digits that were so impossibly close yet far away.

Two of his thick digits entered your valve with a lack of any care earning a sharp mewl, right onto his spike. He roughly coaxed calipers open, stretching you out without any semblance of care. Your sweet muffled sounds against his spike had him going insane. He could feel the oral lubricant production in your intake increase, your glossa twirling around the length as you sucked. Impactor was so glad your vents weren’t built in your intake. You could stay like that for as long as he wanted you to. Impactor groaned every time he felt you moaning against his spike when his cold digits roughly lit up the internal sensors of your delicate sensornet. Each vibration onto his spike brings him closer to the edge of an overload. He spreads apart his two digits, stretching your valve lining and he feels you back your hips backwards to him as you feverishly try sucking his spike off, bobbing your helm up and down as you coated his spike with your oral lubricant. He hums in satisfaction, feeling your valve attempt to suck his digit in even deeper.

“Such a good little slut.” He cooed out, his vox a little shaky and raspy from how close he was. You’re dedicated. Impactor will give you that much. He feels your glossa swirl around the top of his spike again, the tip of your glossa pressing up directly against the tiny hole from where lubricant and pre-fluids leak from his spike. The stimulation sends him over the edge, golden-yellow optics offlining as he groaned loud, pulling out his digits and using his now free servo to push your helm down his length as he spurt out a fat load of transfluids into your intake, your optics widening at the sudden action and sheer amount of fluid that you could taste.

“Swallow.” He rasped out, tone commanding as he pants lightly. His vents worked overtime to dispel the heat and cooling fans roaring.

And you obey, struggling to swallow his load. The tangy metallic taste of copper and gunpowder going down your intake, straight to your fuel tanks. Your own vents work overtime, you take his spike out of your intake panting. A stream of transfluids dripping down your chin. Impactor rises up to a sitting position and manhandles you, making you sit on his lap, facing him. His throbbing spike right below your own valve, you can’t help but gasp a little when you feel the ridges against your folded protoform mesh.

“I’ve gotta hand it to ya, you really know how to suck.” He mumbles, wiping away the dripping transfluids from your intake with a single digit. Impactor looks down at you with unbridled hunger as you refuse to look up at him, bruised pride clinging onto a shred of your dignity as humiliation flows through your circuits. You keep your optics diverted elsewhere instead. He just chuckles at your defiance.

There was nothing more Impactor loved than breaking that Decepticon pride. But he wasn’t quite done yet.

Impactor wraps your legs around his waist with little to no effort at all then, he then holds your hipstruts with his single free servo in an iron grip, his large dented servo nearly wrapped around half of your hipstruts, your optics dart at around his servos and your frame in alarm. His harpoon digging down into the surface nearby to anchor himself. Impactor shifts, positioning himself at a far more convenient angle and without any warning whatsoever, he ruts in, mercilessly so as he tries to get his entire length in with a single thrust. Your crimson optics widen, damn near screaming when he does so. Whimpering hard while coolant pricked the corners of your optics, a steady stream of coolant spilling out as you struggled to take him all. The ridges of his spike rammed up against your sensornet in such force that it would’ve felt like your valve lining was set on fire if it weren’t for the copious amount of lubricant your online-array was producing to compensate. You were overwhelmed by him and a sense of painful pleasure surged through your frame, charge teeming. All while he used you like a cheap toy on his lap.

“Pretty little thing’s got such a pretty little t-tight valve…” He coos with a mock affection as he soaked in the feeling. It’d been far too long since Impactor was pleasured like this. The grip on his single servo tightening, his digits indenting your hipstruts every time he feels you clench down on him. He can't remember the last time he interfaced. Impactor paid no mind to your pained sobs as he relished the feeling. You felt so full. Overwhelmingly so. He didn’t move for a solid moment, enjoying the way your callipers flexed and fluttered around him as they struggled to accommodate a bot of his size class which just makes you whimper, feeling him twitch and throb from within.

Your sobs eventually calm down a little as you get used to the foreign feeling, taking deep vents to calm yourself down as your cooling fans work overtime to deal with the heat. The stream of coolant trickled down to nothing eventually. You had no idea how you were even able to accommodate him in the first place. But this moment of relative peace is gone as soon as he starts moving with a near animalistic roughness, just when you were getting somewhat used to his intrusion. The stream of coolant intensify from your widened optics in response to his his brutal pace as you cry out. Every time he pulled out entirely and shoved himself back in, his spike would hit at the hilt, its swollen tip pressed up flush against your ceiling node, with enough intensity that you feared he might actually split you in two. The suction seal at the base of his spike rubbing against your anterior node every single time. It had you sobbing.

You try squirming but it does you know good, Impactor’s single servo was enough to hold you in place, in whatever position he wanted as he fucked you like you were a toy. Your vocalizer occasionally cackles static along with your many incoherent sounds.

“S-Such a noisy thing…” He grunted out, bucking his hips forward as he attempted to go in even deeper, making you whine. Impactor loves the noise.

“Sl-Slow… P-Please!” You sob out as you swallow down your pride and beg for mercy, capacitors feeling like they would trip any moment as your talons dug into the plating of his chassis for some support. The feeling of being sawed in half was driving you insane with pain and pleasure. You could feel your internal temperature rise to near dangerous levels. Face plating radiating flushed heat.

“haah... I ain’t stoppin’ for nothin’…” He chuckles out, moaning a little in between. You whimper and whine helplessly as you feel his spike pulsate deep within you, knowing damn well what it meant. Impactor throws his helm back a little as he fills you up to the brim with his warm transfluids. His overload finally washing over him as he moans in ecstasy. The sheer amount of fluid he’d spurt out had you whimpering on his lap as it swept into your depths. His pace ceased to drill himself as deep within you as he could, denying you of your own impending overload once more and it just makes you sob from frustration.

“Fuck… ‘Cons really know how to make a p-product…” Impactor pants, amused at how cute you looked on his lap as you struggled to take him all, his fluids dripping down from your array onto his. Half lidden optics daring not to look at him out of humiliation and burning shame as you make incoherent noises and sobs. You looked delicious like this and it only served to repressurize his spike inside your valve, earning a whine.

If he went at this rate, you might as well end up being the first bot to go offline from interfacing.

“Pl-Please…” You choke a sob as you beg out something coherent for once, finally finding the strength to look into his optics. He smiles devilishly, yellow optics gleaming.

“Please what?” He mocks, rising up from his seated position on the berth to effortlessly press you up against a wall. You shudder as you feel his fluids and his spike rock within your frame as he moves, the tip of his spike twitching against your ceiling node. You suppress a whine.

“Sl-Slow down…” You reply, looking up at him. Far too desperate for mercy. “...please.” His engines practically purr at that. Such a teary, pretty face. Not to mention the way you begged.

“One condition,” His one free servo grips your chin, locking your gaze with his as his harpoon digs into the wall for support, “You’re going to look at me when I frag your processor stupid.”

You go silent, looking up at him uneasy and unsure as to how you’d ever get over the utter humiliation. You just nod in agreement.

“Good.” Impactor has a satisfied smile on his face. He lets go of your chin, you look up at him intently, anticipating his next move. He slowly unwraps your legs from his waist and hooks them at either side of his helm, over his shoulder plating as he leaned in closer to you. Mere inches away from your flushed, heated face. His single servo resting back into its position on your hipstruts. Impactor had you folded into a full-on mating press. Now he could go in deeper and through. The very thought made your helm spin.

You look up at him intently, remembering his condition. Burning humiliation not dying down as you continue looking into his gleaming optics and seeing none of the usual crimson or vermillion you are so accustomed to. A cruel reminder that you had sold your dignity to an Autobot. An Autobot Wrecker of all things and he has a smug satisfied grin across his features that you could only wish to wipe off from his face.

“I’ve gotta admit, you’re one of the more… co-operative ‘Cons I’ve ever met.” He speaks, reeling himself out slowly and thrusting back in with a far less brutal pace, yet a little rough. But for Impactor, this was as gentle as he could get. His golden-yellow optics are fixated onto your half-lidded crimson ones, his gaze makes you feel smaller than you already were. The shameless whimpers and moans that leave your vocalizer only serve to amplify your humiliation.

“Makes me wonder if you’re enjoying being fragged senseless by the enemy.” A sly smile forms across his face as he hears you whine in protest, incoherent with how overly sensitive and overstimulated you were. The yellow and purple mech found your attempts to defend your pride even in such a state adorable. His movements were now torturously slow, teasing almost. He can see the frustration with how your optical ridges furrow. He was teetering you towards the edge.

“I mean, just look at ya… you’re a mess.” Your humiliation only grows along with your frustration, coolant pricking the corner of your optics trickling down as you continue to somehow manage to keep eye-contact with him. Impactor is enjoying this way too much.

“So wet ‘n warm for an Autobot commander, I wonder what your Decepticon friends would think.” You whine out once more at his taunt, unable to muster out anything intelligible as he leans in closer, spike going deeper as he continues his slow and deliberately teasing movements. You continue keeping eye-contact with the bigger mech, a sneer across his features.

“You want this, don’t you?” He growls out, voice low and husky as there’s now barely any space separating your face and his. You wanted a release so bad, he kept denying you of it the entirety of this encounter. He has you desperate and he knows it.

“Yes! Yes… yes.” You exclaim quickly, the last shred of your dignity worn down to nothing as you peer into his hungry optics. Impactor dons a wicked grin as he watches you pant. He leans back a little, now moving in a quicker, through and rougher pace. Not as brutal as his initial one.

“Mm. So eager...” He cooed, taunting you. Your sounds intensify, you sounded like a turbofox in heat with the way he had you whimpering and mewling. Impactor found it to be a massive turn on.

“And so needy. You really... frag- really are 'Made To Order'..” He grunts out, feeling your valve clench a little tighter around him when he tries to pull out. The dazed, lust-filled expression you have on you while you continue to look into his optics with burning shame as Impactor’s engines roaring. Too bad you were a Decepticon, a shame.

“Primus, you just love being put in your place don’t you? Spiked down like a slut? Mmmm... You want it so badly...” He says between pants, he’s enjoying himself quite a lot. You mewl as he goes harder, whining at his taunts. The burning embarrassment grows impossibly deeper with every shameless word that left Impactor’s vox.

“Nothing to say eh?” He chuckles dryly, the only sounds leaving you were sobs, whines, mewls and whimpers. Your servos fail around helplessly in search of support. Impactor finds your lack of a verbal response to his teases and taunts amusing. You just remain pressed up against the wall, squirming against him as he has you locked in a mating press.

“You let the other… ‘Cons... rail ya like this too?” He grunted, struggling to keep the pace going as he felt his overload come close. You felt magnificent. Valve fluttering around his spike every time he tried to pull out, callipers stretched and strained to the maximum as you accommodated a girth that surpassed what you were built to take. “Or just Autobots?” It was utterly humiliating, the last of your pride as a Decepticon was crumbling to dust and Impactor loved every second of it.

“Or just me?” He growled out, leaning in closer. Inches away from your face. He can see your pretty, teary, flushed, heated, drooling mess of a face in all its glory and it just stirs him up in a way he can’t explain. Not to mention the way your red optics focus into his, as if he's the only thing that currently matters; catching a part of him wishing it was the blue he was so familiar with instead. You're far too blissed out to worry about your pride now, not shying away as his yellow optics bore into yours.

“You wanna be filled up, doll?” He purrs into your audials and you nod feverishly.

“L-Let me overload…” You stifle a sob. Your pride, dignity and honour had been entirely crumbled down into nothing. But Impactor was more than willing to assist in easing your frustration.

“You’ll get it, sweet little thing.” He groans, holding you as close as he could. Impactor’s presence inside and around you is near overwhelming, the sheer size of him in both ways had you feeling weak, adding onto your overstimulated senses from the sensitive state he brought you down to.

“Takin’ me so well.” Impactor coos out a praise, his spike repeatedly hitting against your ceiling node as he nuzzles his helm into your frame. His servo starts toying with your anterior node, making you choke out a static clouded cry as the most intense overload you’ve probably ever had your whole functioning washed over you. You saw stars. Optics widening while your backstruts curving upward into an erotic arch that damn near made Impactor moan as your callipers coax Impactor into his own overload, milking the transfluids out of him. He lets out a throaty groan, his servo tightening its grip while the harpoon digs into the walls

You feel at absolute bliss. Impactor can see how utterly lost you are in it. Finally reaching that high you’ve been denied of for so long. You pant, heavy and hard in exhaustion as you go damn near limp. He pulls out, spike going back into its housing as a slurry of fluids make a wet sound as they drip onto the ground. Impactor looks down at your messy form, he’s made an absolute wreck out of you. Just how he likes it. Impactor has to hold back from seeing just how absolutely ruined your array was but your panting, overheated and near-limp frame was enough to tell him that you were spent. He might’ve been a rough and tough Autobot with a very.. flexible morality but in the end, he was still an Autobot. He can’t believe he’s almost softening up to you, a Decepticon. In fact, he’s tempted to keep you. Real tempted.

But he’s a mech of his word. He holds you, a little gently in his embrace. Uncharacteristic of him to do so with a Decepticon but he doesn’t care right now. You’ve given the Wrecker the best time he’s ever had in a long time. Impactor will give credit where its due. He moves away from the wall and settles down with you on the berth, you're all curled up on his lap as he sits, Impactor contemplates what he should do with you. Far too exhausted to move as you begin to recover from the intensity of your actions but somewhat surprised when his rough servos stroke the back of your helm, as if he were trying to calm you down. Looking up at him. Primus, had you been an Autobot.

“You did good.” He mumbles out a praise in his usual gruff voice, you’re recovering. Still coming down from a high as your heated systems find it immensely difficult to cool down from that intense overload. Despite your utter humiliation, you find his uncharacteristic gentleness almost affectionate. Vents cycling hard to remove the last of the heat, the perspiration on both your frames evidence of that. He can see you're slowly regaining your bearings.

“So good that it's got a Wrecker warming up to a ‘Con.” He snickered at his own joke. Scratch that, you still hated this mech and he finds your disdain for him entertaining, the clear disapproval etched across your coolant & transfluid stained faceplates was, dare he say, slightly endearing.