#impactor x reader

• Head tipping as he clears his vents, his optics narrow watching you. What makes something that soft and vulnerable try so hard to claim a conjunx so different? So much bigger? Maybe you have a thing for the size difference? Or it could be a safety thing. Maybe humans go for the strangest partner possible? “Sure,” he mutters, studying the stall. “I got assigned a habsuite. I’m not near the Cons, am I?” He growls and you glance back at him where you’re trying to wrestle a barrel almost as big as you are off your cart and obviously struggling.

• Smiling hesitantly when he reaches to take the barrel of energon before you can try to figure out how to get it off the cart without crushing your toes, you rake your fingers through your sweaty hair. “Ah, no. The um, Autobots are all housed on one side and the Decepticons on the other,” you say and he nods, prying the lid off the barrel. He’s so serious and grim looking. Makes you wonder if he ever smiles. “You shouldn’t have to deal with them.” Smiling reassuringly as you tug the hose closer, you sneak looks at him. Tall, dark, and grim wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when you signed up, but given some of the oddness you’ve seen from the younger aliens, older and mature might be a good thing.

• Realizing you’re giving him a once over, he’s not sure how he feels about it. Isn’t after a conjunx, but if he pretends to be as smitten as some of these fools, he’s less likely to draw attention. “You got a name?” He growls and you light up, answering to leave him almost guilty about not asking sooner. Because while he’s using you as cover, you’re legitimately hunting for a partner. Nodding slowly as you spray his legs and torso down and turn to start mixing soap, he finishes his energon, wishing it was engex.

• Dropping a sponge in the soapy water, you turn and nearly scream because he’s right there. Mass displaced and frowning down at you. Heart pounding, you make yourself smile. “Sir? Is everything-” And he’s hooking an arm around you, plating warm against you as his mouth covers yours to send your thoughts scattering. And yeah, dark and brooding is absolutely fine with you as his head lifts and you stare breathlessly up at him. ‘Couldn’t resist. Sorry,’ he growls as you avoid his optics, flustered. Hadn’t really expected him to move that fast. ‘I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give me a tour after we’re done here? Show a bot around?’ Nodding wordlessly, you’re frazzled when he sets you back on your feet and sits on your cart. Still huge even mass displaced as you grab your bucket.

You shuffle your pedes as you walk around the ship, it felt.. odd to be here. On an Autobot ship. A Wrecker ship, no less. You can feel optics on you, some of them aren't happy to have you here and to be honest? You don't want to be here either but unfortunately, you... really don't have anywhere else to go. Working on their repairs for a free ride was a sweet deal anyway.

After your first encounter with the Wreckers, they had you imprisoned. Yes, Impactor said he'd let you go and he actually did let you but your luck... Primus, your luck... You got reassigned to another crew after a Decepticon ship finally got the distress signal from your old one. You served on that ship for a while, much better crewmates but it seems you just have a penchant for running into the opposing faction's authority figures because Ultra Magnus was up there in your 'Bots to Avoid' list, sending you straight to the nearest prison in the star system...

Which just so happened to be Garrus-9. Regardless, G-9 is still better than say, Grindcore... Its where you would've been if your Decepticons ever found out how you... interacted with a Wrecker. A memory that's etched into your processor at this point. They'd have probably sentenced you to be a K-Class if they'd known. Or maybe hunted by the DJD. But thankfully, Garrus-9 is well fortified. Its the largest Autobot prison and it houses bots with a threat level of 9, probably the safest place to be if you wanted to be away from any form of Decepticon 'disciplining'. Or the DJD.

But then came Overlord.

It all went downhill so quick.

You weren't strong enough to be taken for Overlord's 'entertainment ring' and neither were you weak enough to be turned into someone's fuel. Thankfully, you went unnoticed, invisible. You've never felt so glad for being irrelevant in your entire life. But... They were running out of bots to feed on and soon, they'd come for you. It was inevitable— The depravity of this prison planet was inescapable and grotesque, all sentiments seems to have died in here. There is no hope in this hellscape...

But you've heard that there was an inmate in here, mostly as whispers amongst inmates and even the guards, an Autobot. "The Autobot who went too far", they'd say. Not really sure who it is given the prison doesn't exactly let you catch up with what's going on outside but whoever that was, might be your only hope here. You may have been a Decepticon but this...? Whatever Overlord was doing? It wasn't what you signed up for at all. In fact, you might as well throw away that badge at this point because nothing you seemed to believe in remains within this now blood lusted and savage movement.

So you went a few floors deep, its where all the dangerous ones are kept. All the way down at the lower levels; real threats like Grimlock and even Arcee at some point, its no place for mechanics and engineers like yourself, that was made abundantly clear with how it took forever to navigate this place. Its a whole planet with just prisoners after all. Locating this mech's cell itself must've taken you forever, you remember the joy you felt when you finally found this bot... But as you approached the cell of this mysterious Autobot, your spark sank.

Not him.

There he was, Impactor. In the metal. Caged behind a dark cell. Even from this distance, he was as intimidating as ever. The darkness making him all the more terrifying, maybe even scarier than when you ran right into him during that botched escape attempt-

But, of course it was Impactor. Which other Autobot would possibly fit the criteria? Ruthless, merciless and domineering— Qualities you would prefer in a wildly different context but you regret coming here almost instantly as images of your previous encounter with him flashes in your processor, immediately trying to shake those thoughts away. He's sitting, you could see the golden-yellow gleam of his optics through the cell. He seemed to have noticed you with how he rises, alert but trying to get a closer look at you. The lights were out in this sector of the prison, not surprising considering the structural damage and lack of maintenance after Overlord took control.

You struggle to think of what to say, a part of you want to just leave and forget it but-

"I know you." He mumbles out, and a part of you sincerely wished he hadn't recognized you at all. You frown as he approaches near the edge of his cell, you take a deep vent and take a step further as he watches you like a hawk, mustering up the courage to spit out what's on your processor— A bit hard given the imagery popping up when you look into his optics, looking at anywhere else.

"I'm going to get you out of here. Not because I want to free you but because I want Overlord gone," You start talking, trying not to stutter over any of your words. You'd practiced this so many times- You know that the Autobots in these cells are probably as psychotic as most of the Decepticons out of their cells but right now, you don't have much of a choice. Best thing you can do is somehow make yourself look friendly.

Impactor raises an optical ridge, slightly amused as you continue speaking. Listening with keen interest. He can see how you're trying so hard not to look into his optics, focusing on his nasal ridge instead.

"The Decepticon Movement I decided to volunteer for is dead." You admit, it.. it wasn't easy but long years in prison (out of which five were under the rule of Overlord) changes a bot. The words surprise him in a way, he can tell you're being sincere but he's never had a Decepticon admit that without a blaster pointed at their helm.

"I am not affiliated with them." You tried to put emphasis onto your words. Remaining as stern as ever and not allowing this bot to intimidate you.

"Which means that I'm not here to fight you, here to help, so..." You know your next words will sound pathetic but you move to the keypad that's holding him in, your skills as an engineer came in handy for once.

"Don't kill me." You mumble out, there's fear in your tone and an alarm blares as you override the security protocols, the energy barrier dissipating and bars lowering. He just huffs, taking a step outside and stretching, the mechanisms of his heavy-weight frame creaking. His hydraulics hiss as his servos stretch up. Those alarms had alerted the spineless cowards who bent over for Overlord's whims and they'll definitely storm in here. You can tell he's getting prepared to wreck.

"I can't promise you anything, sweetspark." He says gruffly as he gets his balled up fists to a fighting stance, you ignore the name he called you. Purging those butterflies as soon as they they came. You'd brought a blaster gun but he didn't seem to interested in. He was really going to use his bare servos...

And the rest was history.

That's how you now you're on the ship, under Springer's supervision. Considering you'd assisted the Wreckers and even thrown away your purple badge, you had become one of them... in a way. If it weren't for you, they wouldn't have managed to alter the security overrides. You certainly don't want to join the Autobots and you made that very clear to Springer whenever he tried to bring up the offer, you'd help repair whatever damages the events of G-9 had brought upon their ship if they'd drop you off to some remote backwater planet in the furthest corner of the galaxy. After toiling away most of your life for the miserable Decepticon cause, you really needed a break.

"Report?" Springer approaches you, trying to be somewhat friendly, you look back at him without a smile or anything.

"Most of the repair work is done. Thrusters should be able to operate in maximum velocity again." You reply, your face blank as you try to ignore Impactor's heavy stare on you. Ever since you got on board really. There is a frown on your face and Springer can sense your discomfort even if you tried to hide it.

"He's just... Been through a lot." He mutters out as he eyes Impactor, who just sneers and walks away. Impactor remains to be a touchy topic for the green mech, he'd understand why anyone would be weary around him... or them, in general. "They all have." The green bot speaks for the rest of the Wreckers, some of them definitely wanting you gone for good for your previous association with the Decepticons and a part of you doesn't really blame them. But at the same time... Why did they have to be so intimidating?

"I know, its why you don't see me whine about it." You mumble out with a sigh as you walk away, Springer frowns a bit. You can tell he wanted you to join— Not necessarily the Wreckers but the Autobots. He seems to see some sort of goodness within you or something, least of your concerns. But to be honest, you're done with associating yourself with any cause and slaving away for it. Even if Springer is surprisingly nice...

The war is over.

You're going to live by your own terms now. Frag anyone's cause. its none of your business. You don't really give a damn if the Wreckers need a mechanic. Springer doesn't know a thing about how his team basically killed your co-workers before, only Impactor saw you that day. It makes sense why he doesn't recognize you at all, which is good. Hard to pretend like you didn't see him slash right through your Commanding Officer though. That fool of a CO should've just surrendered like Impactor asked...

Springer watches you walk away with a sigh, he can't really blame you for shooting down the offer considering they weren't exactly the friendliest bunch but they really, really need a mechanic around. He knows its not really sustainable to keep moving from ship to ship even if his team typically do not stay on the same ship for too long. This one handles like a charm though... You're competent, quick, above all, resourceful. But most importantly, you're not very keen on keeping old grudges. Very co-operative if anything, which was good. Most ex-Cons do not mix well with the Wreckers, they keep their old resentments— Something Springer has learnt from experience. But you seemed to be taking it better.

Though, something does surprise him about you— The fact that you freed Impactor, stuck next to the guy as he drilled himself through Overlord's hordes, almost have an encounter with Overlord yourself and still came out alive. He was sure Impactor would've done something to you, maybe not directly but maybe use you as a shield or a launchpad, especially considering your affiliation. You were a staunch Decepticon, firm on the ideals the movement used to embodies. It took Overlord himself for you to see what you believed in truly was because you stayed in prison true to your old badge.

"You know, I could convince 'em." Impactor suddenly approached Springer, who was deep in thought, snapping him out of it. Springer was... still not on good good terms yet. The young commander looks at Impactor's scarred face with heavy doubt. Impactor's method of convincing was something he's seen before and is certain would only drive you further away.

"I want to believe it, I do but I highly doubt your methods." Springer replies, studying Impactor carefully. Hard to read through that poker face though. Why would he want to convince you? Impactor isn't exactly the type to really talk it out; negotiation was not his strong point. Impactor lets out a sharp ex-vent, like he's almost offended at that.

"Trust me, I know how to make a mech reconsider without a blaster."

"Just stay away from 'em." Springer sighs, he's got a meet with Prowl and the team after a while, he won't be around to supervise Impactor which.. is a slight worry of his but what could possibly happen within that time? Its not like Impactor would actually try talking it out with you?... Right?

As you continue to walk down the hallway, you see Impactor walking towards you. You panic a little, the two of you didn't really get a lot of time to talk during the whole jailbreak and taking Overlord down. More focused on blasting through the Phase Sixer's cronies and trying to run for your life while Impactor pulled of stunts you wouldn't dare to perform even if even Primus himself was there to take the wheel. He was... something. That much you'll say.

And there is always a chance he's just heading for the same direction as you? Right?

While you're sure that moment, that day probably meant nothing to him, it... left an impression on you, unfortunately. Along with a lot of new discoveries about yourself. It was humiliating, embarrassing and, probably the lowest thing you've ever done to save yourself; it was also the most vulnerable you've ever been before any bot. You've never been so exposed— Your fake confidence broken down, pride thrown away— That exterior you flaunt off eroded entirely in that moment. Having someone tell you what to do and how to do it, it felt... you can't put it to words. But treated like that, wrecked and then spoiled, you can never compare it to any of your other experiences.

You try to walk faster, to get to the end of this corridor, you'll see Springer or someone there but unfortunately for you, Impactor's longer stride made it easy to catch up to you if he sped up.

He huffs as he stands right next to you. There's a small gap between your frames as you two walk together side-by-side. You sincerely hope he cannot see your nervousness as you try not to look at him, pretend to be unaffected and keep yourself composed. Looking right ahead.

"We need to talk." He leans down, you freeze for a moment. Stopping in your tracks as you decide to try and make a stand for yourself.

"No, we don't." You reply quickly, too quickly, looking right into his optics. Trying to stand firm. His face is as hardened as ever, you can't tell what he's thinking at all and it.. worries you. Its not easy to meet his gaze, or keep it.

"How cute." He snickers, tilting his helm to the side. Mocking you? Teasing you? You're not so sure. He can see the confusion and it only seems to make him more into... whatever he's trying to.

"You've got spine now." He leans in, making you step back right against the wall. Those words sting but you try not to let it get to you. He looks victorious, almost. He enjoys watching the realization that you're compromised with your back against the wall and Impactor in front of you. His servos immediately caging you in as they slam against the wall near your shoulder plating, you can't escape from the side either. His bigger frame does you no favours. You frown deeply as you look into his optics, trying to strike down those images from your intense experience with him, those images only serve to make you feel somewhat vulnerable and he can see that.

"What do you want from me?" You reply, the war is over. He's got no reason at all to be bothering you like this. Impactor just snickers.

"More like what we want." He mumbles out, the tone of voice is enough to make you somewhat flustered. Your frame starting to get warmer, you shake away any thoughts you have.

His optics are sharp, boring into yours almost and you can't look away even if you tried. You just hope no one comes through this hallway right now. You know what he's talking about, he can tell.

"I did it cause I didn't want to be captured." You defend yourself, memories of that night on the ship with him crashing into your processor. You look uneasy, reluctant. A part of you really, really wants to give in. There were days where you were so needy and you just hoped he'd show up again, lonely nights in prison... You can't even self-service in there with how many cameras and bots there are. You are pent up. Not like you'd... ever say that to his face. That admission goes down with you to your grave.

"Really?" Impactor murmurs, his tone making you question your resolve as he leans in closer to your audials.

"If all that sweet, sweet noises weren't real then you're one hell of an actor, doll." He growls out. He'd gotten a bit attached to you that night. Impactor remembers how he kept debating with himself right after he had you into a hot, panting mess beneath him— Keep you for himself or keep up his promise as you heaved with your helm on his lap, his servo caressing the top of your helm as you looked up to him with that... that tired, needy look. That sense of Autobot pride was still in him and thank Primus for that because he kept his end. But there were days he needed to hear all of that all over again, have you beneath him like that once more and he couldn't help but regret letting you go. And once he got to Garrus-9? Prison gave him all the similar struggles you had.

You can't help but feel a bit flustered at what he insinuates but he is right. That moment was very real, there is no denying that but the way he's acting like it.. it actually means something to him is-

"It was a one time thing." You mumble out, voice going quiet as you refuse to back down. Impactor doesn't really feel frustrated like he would've felt because he can see that mask slipping off your pretty face, its a process he wants to savour rather than rush.

"A 'thing' we enjoyed." He murmurs out, there's a snarky look to him as he kisses your audial fin and it had your frame beginning to charge up from that alone. He's caged you in and you can feel the hot vents of his frame hit you, his pedes right between your stabilizing servos slowing getting closer inch-by-inch to wedge them away from what he yearns for.

Your processor is going a mile a minute, your systems heating up just a notching and here, he can see the bot he had beneath him once more. You can barely look at him in the optics anymore, so utterly flustered. How you chose to be a Decepticon is beyond him but at least you don't have that purple stain on your chassis anymore.

"I know you think about it.." He can see the way you look at him when you think he isn't looking,

"So? I doubt you do." You blurt out without thinking. That... was an honest response. Too honest and you almost regret saying that but before you can say another word-

"And who the frag told you that?"

You should've seen the look on your face. Priceless. Your optics all wide, his face is basically inches away and he can feel the heat from your systems. You shouldn't be surprised, he's been staring at you since the mission ended; all sorts of explicit thoughts running through his mind.

You haven't really seem him smile a lot but right now, he has a wide, scrap-eating grin and you can practically see the lust in his golden optics, his EM field easily enveloping you and you can feel it. You can feel his need, his desire and its filthy. A small gasp leaves your vocalizer from the sheer intensity of what he feels. You can almost imagine the thing he wants to do, thankfully he doesn't have a way of putting that in your helm but it leaves you with anticipation, a knot in your tanks at the possibilities running through your processor. He needed you badly and it was getting to you, your array coming to life beneath your panels and your stabilizers feel weak.

"You feel that, sweetspark?" He hums, his helm kissing the connection between your jaw and neck, you're not sure if you should feel worried or turned on from the sheer intensity of his need.

Thankfully, Impactor knows it better to show than tell.

"That's vorns worth of want right there." His gruff voice going lower as he takes his servo off the wall and he almost, almost reverently places it on your chassis, right above where your old Decepticon insignia would've been. He seems content with your lack of a brand, digits circling around there as you remain silent. Unsure on what to say or what you should even say to something like this. To Impactor, right now, you look like a snack waiting to be devoured with how you're looking up to meet his gaze all embarrassed. Your own, poorly hidden EM field radiating a similar kind of need, it serves to make him want this even more.

The servo on your chassis begins to trail down you sides, giving your hip struts a light squeeze, a digits caressing the metal plating. It slides further down to your crotch, massaging the panel there.

"Missed me, didn't ya?" He murmurs into your audials as you moan, his servos roughly sliding up and down your modesty panel, his harpoon-servo holding you tight against him, your back pressed against his front as his helm leans behind yours.

"...don't let it get to your head" You mumble out a weak admission but it was the truth. You don't bother trying to fight back because you're practically melting into his touch. Impactor chuckles, nipping a wire by your neck supports.

"I'll shut you up soon enough." He mutters out into your audios and you can feel the charge surging down, beneath your crotch panels. His pede slides completely between your stabilizers. He's bigger than you though, even with most of his weapons systems and some of his bulkier armour was taken away before he was taken to custody but that doesn't make him any less intimidating.

"Wait... in-in the hallway?" Your voice goes all high-pitch and he finds it absolutely adorable how flustered you look, your optics going all wide again. The subtle heat from your faceplates, the way your dermas falter. You haven't changed much but he has, for the worse perhaps but he's going to be more selfish.

"If you think I can wait any longer, you're insane." He says with a rough tone, his strong frame lifting both your stabilizers and hooking them over his shoulder plating, his helm pressed right against your modesty and your fans come to life. You struggle to balance yourself, your servos immediately moving to grip his helm. His face nuzzling into your modesty, his nasal ridge pressing against it, stimulating your mesh beneath which sparks a soft moan from your end. His optics gleam at the sound, its like music to his audios... You sound just like you used to.

"Y-You're crazy!" You protest from above, looking down at him with the most concerned expression on his face. Again, you did... yearn for a mech like him so maybe you're the crazy one but—

"What if someone walks in here!?" You say quickly in a hushed tone, biting down on your bottom derma to block that whine from escaping your vocalizer as he kisses against the panel. He looks like he's soaking in the warmth... Speaking of warm, your face might be heated enough to use as a stove with how flustered you are. The mere thought of being seen like this by anyone has your spark hammering against its casing. Your modesty panel heats up even more.

"How the hell did you become a Decepticon...?" He mumbles against your panel, dismissing your protests as chatter. You look appalled for a second, he catches that and smirks. Proud that he's managed to invoke such a reaction from you.

"I have no idea what you think Decepticons do but from my very personal experience, I can tell you that they do not inter-"

You slap your servo around your intake as he bites down on the seam of your inner thigh, suppress the moan at nearly left you. Other servo holding onto his helm for life. Throwing your helm back as the tip of his glossa pokes a sensor by the seam of your panel. Its been far too long since you've been touched by another, you haven't been able to touch yourself either... Not wanting to give the surveillance bots a show back at Garrus-9.

"Must've been a while..." He taunts, knowing damn well what your frustrated state must've been like. Impactor can guess.

"...you have no idea." You groan as his glossa presses against the warm panel, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses. Your frame gives in soon enough and your panels hiss open. His optics are glued upward, watching your face. You're so worried about getting caught, its almost amusing— Optics darting from one side to another. A part of him wants to tell you that Springer is busy with some official matters alongside the other Wreckers but you're too cute like this.

His golden optics dart down to your push valve in front of him, its just like he remembers. Though, the lighting here is much better than that ship he had you in. Your mesh glistens with lubricant and charge, your biolights pulsing softly and Impactor thinks its almost hypnotic. He meant it when he said you had a pretty array. All worked up because of him. Its making him want, no, need this even more...

"Pretty.." He coos as he kisses your valve lips, making out with it as if it were your own lips. He hums as the taste of you as he continues to slowly torture you, sucking on those mesh folds whenever he pulls his helm back a bit and oh, Primus... Your face... You think the others are around, servo slapped across your intake trying to muffle those sweet whines. Your stabilizers have his helm on a death hold at this point with how they're clamped around his helm, your servo gripping onto him as if you're afraid you'd fall on to the floor.

"...be nicer this time." You manage to choke out as he kisses your valve.

"You know I don't make promises..." He pants out, going rougher at your array. His intake moving away from your greedy valve and onto your sensitive node, sucking onto the nub and making your valve cycle down on nothing. A loud whine leaves you and you bite down on your dermas.

Its like a game to him now, trying to see just how much you can hold back your noises— Even if it technically doesn't matter. Its fun to torment you like this, to make you fall apart into nothing...

His face presses in further against your array, your vents heating up even more, your fans pick up a notch to compensate.

"S-Someone's.. Someone's gonna see us!" You whine out, stifling the cry that almost broke through as his thick digits moves to your valve entrance, roughly breaching through. You can't even thrash around with how risky this position is.

"Imagine that," Impactor swirls his glossa around your node, "Someone just walking to see how much you're enjoying this..." Your vents sputter, his digits roughly coaxing callipers open with every attempt to go deeper, curling them and making your fans go even higher, plush mesh pull him in further with how your valve cycles around his digits.

"...you're j-just a pervert-" A loud moan leaves your vocalizer as his digits start pumping in your valve without any warning, drawing them in and out in a rough pace as he sucks on your node harder, using more force. That pervert comment didn't seem to resonate well with Impactor, even if it is a fantasy of his.

"You need to talk nicer to the mech with his intake on yer array, sweetspark..." He huffs out gruffly. Wanting more to taste and seeing that you've been reprimanded, his digits move out of your valve and leave you empty, making you whimper. Your digits digging into his helm, Impactor could care less about a couple of dents.

He leans in fully against your array, going against your valve like a starved mech running on exhaust fumes for vorns. You cry out, unable to hold back your noises as both your servos hold onto Impactor's helm. His oral lubricant smothering you mesh as he leaves sloppy kisses all over with ravenous intent. His nasal ridge stimulates your node, his rough movements making it rub against it in a needy manner. Lubricant was beginning to drip from your array down, onto his chassis.

His glossa thrusts into your valve and you moan out, back straightening against the wall, his digits prepared you well— Impactor groans as he gets a taste of you, thrusting his glossa in and out in a more frantic pace. You valve being generous enough to give him more charge, it cackles in the back of his intake as he greedily pleasures you. Your noises, sweet noises, almost as desperate as the ones from the night he used to reminiscence: whines, moans, whimpers, groans— The whole deal. Not to mention the metallic tang of your lubricant, he never had the chance to gorge upon you that time... Something on his bucket list he won't leave unchecked and its something he now regrets not doing because you're stunning like this.

Optics all hazy and half-lidded, looking down at him with a desperation that only he can absolve you of, the heat of your frame, pants and vents— He can see the steam puff out. The coolant swelling in your optics, its cute how terrified you are of being seen like this, you look like you might actually cry.

Oh, he... he needs to know what your transfluid tastes like.

Impactor goes even rougher, his glossa going deep— You knew he was a bigger size bracket but this was ridiculous! His glossa grazes against sensors and nodes as he collects more charge and lubricant into his intake. Your noises get louder, more desperate and he finds a part of him wishing the others were actually around to hear you. Your cries are beautiful, they probably sound that desperate with how you think the other's are still on board. Not like it would ever make him regret choosing not to correct you when you assumed the others were still on board. You're cute like this, he'd keep you like this forever if he could.

He brings his digits to your node, you're so close... He can tell with the rapid flutters and the increasing high pitch whines, Impactor can make you fall over the edge so easily— You're lucky he's been craving for a taste of you. His digits attack your node and your back struts arch against the wall he's planted you against from below, you haven't overloaded in so long, you swear you see white as a loud moan leaves your vocalizer. Valve overloading hard against his glossa, velvety walls clamping down on those taste receptors, the taste of your transfluids overflowing through his systems. It makes him groan, his spike straining hopelessly against his own panels.

You pant hard from above, needed a moment to recover and Impactor brings you down, in his servos bridal-style.

You were right about one thing... There was no way he could comfortably spike you down like you need to be in this hallway... Not to mention the small puddle of transfluids beneath. Hopefully, someone cleans that up because Impactor's spike demands your attention.

Good thing he has his own ship. Impactor carries you in his servos down the hall as you lay there, dazed, coming down from a strong high.

Impactor holds onto you tightly. You're not slipping away from him again. Not this time. This time, he's keeping you.

BONUS: (stupid idea i had that doesn't tie into this at all)

"Now what's all the-" Your spark sinks as you freeze in Impactor's grasp. Kup opens the door in on you two and you look like a deer in the headlights.

Kup looks... surprised? Shocked? Disgusted? His cygar nearly fell out of his intake as he registers what's happening and Impactor himself is frozen, his helm snapping to the door the moment it creaked open.

"Look at ya two," He mumbles with disgust, his optics narrowing on Impactor specifically, severely disappointed. How much more humiliation must you face in your life? Your embarrassment heightens and your basically covering your faceplates behind your servos. "Candoodling like.. like academy cadets!"

"Get out." Impactor practically growls at Kup, he... actually looks somewhat embarrassed himself but he can keep his cool unlike you. In fact his servo remains firmly by your crotch, no intention to pull away.

"Should've picked another room then if you had'ta spike down the ex-Con. Supply closets' always the worst choice." The old mech mumbles as he enters to get whatever it was that he came for and your embarrassment only gets worse, Impactor can feel it through your EM field. Your face plates heated up as you're basically melting into a puddle of shame.

He huffs, its cute, almost. Makes him less mad at Kup who walks out after grabbing whatever it was he needed, slamming the door shut behind him.

"And at least have the decency to lock a sparkdamn door!" Kup barks out as he walks away, loud enough for the two of you to hear. "Fought in a war for four million years and for what? Can't even lock a damn door..." Kup mumbles out as he storms away, wanting to delete the sight from his memory banks.

"...he's gone." Impactor mutters, moving his servo away from your modest panel to pull your servos away from your face. You look upset, Impactor can guess why but he's not sorry and never will be.

"...he has a point about the door, you know?" You mutter as you look at the door and then back to him. He doesn't look happy at all, with a heavy huff he marches towards the door and locks it.

"That fragging old mech..."

you guys are so real for putting me back on my impactor train because whoooo boy is he hot.. i need to re-read the wreckers saga because mgkmkhgmmhgmhmymk he's such a sexy ass mech omg megatron proving himself to be fumbletron again because THIS HUNK OF A MECH would NOT be just 'my best friend'...

You tilt your book down and glance up at Impactor, he's mass-displaced and standing in front of you with his arms crossed and a cocky smirk on his face, "The Princess and The Goblin," you say monotoned, pulling your legs up closer towards your body to make more to on the couch.

"Which one are you?" He chuckles, taking a seat.

"I suppose I'm the Goblin here, Princess." You try not to crack a smile.

"Ha ha," he fake laughs, delicately picking the book up from your hands.

"Hey!"

"Relax, I'm gonna give it back. Man, you humans have such tiny prints," He says, flipping through the pages, "How can you even read these words, they're made for ants?!"

"Maybe it's time to get your optics checked Gramps." This time you can't help but smile.

He looks over at you, noting that smug smile, and flips through the pages again to the exact page you were on before setting the book back in your hands with a frown.

Your smile fades, "Impactor I-" He presses his lips roughly to yours, cutting you off, before pulling away and pressing his forehelm to your forehead with that cocky smirk of his on his face again.

"Gotcha. You know it'll take a little more than that to upset me." He laughs.

"I know," You laugh back and kiss his nose, causing him to have a more sincere smile, "But you really are getting old." You tease, shifting around to lean on his chest.

"That's a good thing I guess," he places his arm around you, leaning his helm gently on your head, "Never thought I'd get the chance to."

"Well I'm glad you get to, and I'm glad I get to, with you." You say, lifting your book up to find where you left off.

• Impactor. What kind of name is that? Dragging your cart after you, you hunt for your assigned alien since he decided to not report to his wash stall. Had been excited about meeting one of them especially with the rumors that this isn’t just about taking care of them. That some, well, most, of them think of this as an arranged marriage. And okay, maybe you’re a bit disillusioned by the local dating scene and want a change. Though this is about as far from normal human dating as you can get. “Hi! Hello? Down here! Do you know an Impactor?” You call out when you spot one of the aliens and the big mech frowns down at you. After striking out five times already, you’re not that hopeful.

• Rumbling in annoyance as he looks down at the tiny, organic alien smiling up at him, he’s tempted to say no. Send you off in the wrong direction and let you hunt for him on the other side of the base. Knows all about your kind chasing after mechs as some sort of arranged conjunx deal, but he’s not interested. Has things to do. But if he doesn’t play along, it’ll draw attention. Others might start watching him. And to do what needs to be done, he needs to be left alone. Doesn’t need Prowl or Optimus taking too much of an interest in what he’s doing here. “I’m Impactor,” he says and you smile up at him.

• Finally. Relieved, you smile up at him. “I’ve been assigned to care for you and see to all your needs,” you tell him as you try to figure out what he transforms into. Something construction related? Glancing up at the fin on top of his helm, you think of a mohawk. ‘That so,’ he mutters and he starts walking to force you to jog after him, your cart rattling behind you. “Yes, sir. I’ll be your liaison with the other humans on base and your point of contact for anything you might need.” At least he’s headed in the right direction.

• Eager, little thing, but then you’re after a mate, so that’s not surprising. Glancing down at you running after him before scanning his surroundings, he clears his vents. “I’m new here. Maps of the area would be appreciated. And I don’t care for being near Decepticons, especially their high command, so if you could figure out their routines so I can avoid them?” He says wondering how desperate you are to win him over and you hesitate a klik before nodding. ‘Um, sure. I can do that, sir,’ you say and he smiles grimly. If he’s scouting and doing recon it’ll be noticed, but there are so many humans scurrying around, he doubts anyone pays any attention to them. Someone has to do what needs to be done and he didn’t come here to find a conjunx, even if he needs to play along for cover.

“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.

• “You feel it don’t you, kid? Wreckers don’t retire, we just move on to the next fight until we can’t,” Impactor says, drinking as his optics flick around the room, looking for a companion. Because sullying the kid’s sterling honor? Seeing him wanton and out of control? Prove that any of them can break? He wants that satisfaction. Wants Springer to tarnish himself, give in to those baser instincts with one of the little organics. Debauch that sterling reputation. “A Wrecker in peace time is a dangerous thing.” And he finds what he’s looking for. “That one.”

• It doesn’t matter that you don’t know what the black and white mech singing is saying, those vocals are gorgeous and haunting, as him and his buddies play. The tempo a living thing, winding up and taking off, becoming frenetic. And a hand brushes your arm to make you turn and stare up at a big, green bot you don’t know. And his jaw works, optics flicking around, landing on your face, your body, then away. Shy? Guy’s huge and he’s acting like he’s almost intimidated by you even though you’re pretty sure he could pick you up one handed if wanted to. “Hi,” you say. “Are you looking for a friend?”

• Venting as he glances at Impactor watching, Springer’s jaw works. Facing down Decepticons is easier than this. Because this isn’t what this place is for, even though it’s what it’s become. “Me and my companion were wondering if you-” What’s he supposed to say? Would you like to frag like petro rabbits? He doesn’t do this sort of thing and you’re just smiling up at him to make him even more uncomfortable. What if he breaks you? He’s not really going to do this, is he? Just to try and mend that broken bridge with a mech who can’t even admit he did something wrong? Hadn’t meant for Impactor to get sent to Garrus-9, but he’d been trying to do right.

• Glancing at his buddy as the other mech holds up a glass in salute, you look back up at the mech in front of you and smile. “Sure,” you interrupt as he flounders. And just stares at you. “I’m game.” He’s too cute to pass up and he lets you take his hand and pull him over to his buddy, even though you’re very aware that you couldn’t budge him unless he let you.

• Laughing as you take Springer’s hand by a servo and leads him back to the table, Impactor shoves up to his peds. “You gonna break in the kid?” He asks and Springer makes a noise when you just smile up at him with a cheery little ‘That’s the plan.’ Venting, he heads to the bar to get a token and find a room, aware of Springer reluctantly following with you. And he holds the door open while you and Springer go in. Settling himself in a corner as he gestures at the bed, his optics narrow. “You’ll have to be gentle, I’m not sure he’s ever actually had anyone touch his spike except himself.”

• Stiffening as you smile and push at his chassis, he backs up and sits on the plush berth. Shivering as you slide your palms against his inner thighs to make him spread them so you can slip your body in between. And your little fingers tap against his modesty plating, fingertips sliding against his inner thighs to dip into seams when he doesn’t release his spike for you. When you look up at him, your expression is innocent, but you seem to know what you’re doing. Wonders who else has fragged you. Can’t scent anyone on you when he vents, but he knows some humans like to ‘collect’ Cybertronians. Is that what he is? A tally mark? Doesn’t want to believe that, not when you seem sweet. “What’s your name?” You ask and his jaw works.

• “Springer,” he manages as you press your thumb against his plating, tracing over where you know the panels release. ‘Let me take care of you, Springer,’ you whisper, bending to slide your tongue against the inside seam of his thigh and his venting gets louder. Servos tunnel in your hair as he growls and finally releases his spike for you. Fingers curling around him, you lean down to brush a teasing kiss against the head of his spike just to make him shiver, before backing up and stripping. ‘Lay back for me.’

• “No, he frags you,” Impactor growls from his spot watching, sipping his engex. “Like an animal.” And you raise an eyebrow at him but climb up on the bed on your hands and knees. Springer grimaces when Impactor stares him down in challenge, but shifts up onto the padded berth. Hesitating as you look at him over your shoulder, all soft, fragile skin and so much smaller than he is. Smoothing a hand along your side, he smiles. Tries to pretend this is his idea, that Impactor isn’t watching, because he does want you. Likes the warm, softness of you, that bold, little smile. Needs something soft after everything, after the war. He’s allowed this, to live. Right?

• Part of him expects Springer to back down, but then, when’s the kid ever backed down? You make a soft noise as Springer shifts at your back and slowly sheaths his spike inside you and groans as you take all of him. Slowly beginning to move against you as your fingers fist in the blankets under you, breath catching on a moan. Listening to you whimpering Springer’s name, begging for more, harder, deeper. And there it is. The kid’s hips pumping, thrusts becoming more urgent. Rutting against you as you moan, pushing back to meet him and his servos tighten on your hips. Hard enough he’ll probably leave bruises on that soft skin.

• Whimpering his name as gets rougher, hips snapping against you, making you very aware of his snarling groans, the rough sound of him venting and his plating heating as moves against you. Tipping you over that edge when he thrusts hard and you lose your balance, upper body going down and hips up and you’re gasping his name as you shatter. And he keeps going, dragging it out until you’re trembling under him, coming apart again before he’s driving deep, hips rocking against you as he overloads and fills you.

• Shuddering against you as you look over your shoulder at him, hair slicked to your face with sweat, he reluctantly slips free. Feels like he should thank you. Maybe frag you again. A couple more times. “Get out,” Impactor snarls and he glares at the other bot as he pushes to his peds. “We’re done for now.” For now? Jaw working as you roll onto your back, thighs spread and you’re slick with his release. Wants to touch you, skim his mouth all over you. “Scram,” Impactor adds, getting in his face and he reluctantly hides away his still erect spike, grimacing. Wonders if he’ll see you again as he leaves the room and you.

• “He’s cute,” you say, watching Impactor secure the door and crawl up on the berth to cover you, his mouth sliding over your body. “Any particular reason you wanted me to fuck him?” Mouth covering yours before belatedly remembering you’d had it on Springer’s spike and he bites your bottom lip as he frees his own spike and drives into the familiar, slick heat of you. Rutting against you as you move under him, little hands clinging. “Can I fuck him again?” You ask on a moan and he thrusts deep, getting rougher until you’re whimpering his name, distracted from talking as your thigh slides against his hip.

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