Space Robots Got Me Crazy

"Finally." Heatwave grumbles and, in a flurry of desperation and thinly veiled desire, slams the firehouse garage door down with one hand, too impatient for it to finish rolling down. It had been a long day, but with the incentive of the Burn's and his three other bots leaving for a camping trip at the end of the day, it felt like it dragged on for far too long.

Him, you. Alone for three Earth days. He'd still have to answer emergency calls, but Heatwave could not give two frags right now.

He scours the dark room, twitching digits aching to find you. All the lights seemed to be switched off, which was bizarre, but Heatwave was benumbed. His spike is aching just thinking about roughhousing you around a bit because Primus damned if it isn't hard to get some privacy around the others. As much as he appreciates his team, he wants to be with you during the little downtime he gets. He searches some more, and his optics soften as they finally land on you.

There you were, half-asleep on the human couch, a blanket wrapped loosely around you. You must've gotten tired of waiting for him to show up. He's surprised he didn't wake you from slamming the door. Slowly and shaking with desire, he approaches you. He crouches down, folding back the blanket to reveal utterly bare skin, and Heatwave nearly short circuits on the spot.

"Hey," The cherry-red mech brushes a palm across your thigh, caressing it gently. He almost moans at the warmth of your skin, "Look at you, got too impatient, huh?" He mumbles to himself, rubbing his thumb against you.

At the cold chill of the air, you slowly stir awake, eyes fluttering open. Looking around, you realised you forgot to leave the lights on for him; the firehouse was almost pitch black. You give him a lopsided smile, one he finds absolutely grin worthy, "Hi, babe," you stretch out, "Took you long enough."

"Yeah, well, had some messes to clean up. You know how it is." Heatwaves' digits meander to behind your thighs, giving them a squeeze before lightly tracing the lips of your pussy, "Though, I can think of one mess I intend not to miss. You're soaked."

"I know, tell me about it," Throwing the blankets off the rest of the way, you roll onto your back, expectantly splaying your thighs for him. And in the glow of his optics in the dark, your flesh glistens with slick, "Want a closer look?"

Heatwave immediately takes to your openness, moving a shaky digit to your folds and softly rubbing it through them. He tuts softly as he spreads and surveys them, and his engine purrs at the heat from you, "Such a pretty valve, huh? All for me."

You keenly watch him play with your pussy, and you let out a couple soft moans as he thumbs at your clit. If you weren't awake before, you certainly are now, jolts of pleasure shooting through you. But before Heatwave can have all the fun, you push his servo away, much to his dismay.

"As much as I'd love being played with to your heart's content," You sit up and throw the blanket on the ground next to the couch, along with a pillow you snatched earlier. Human beds aren't necessarily made for getting fucked on by a Cybertronian; you learned that one the hard way, "I'd much prefer it if you'd fuck me already."

Heatwave gives you a knowing smile and shifts onto his knees to hoist you off the couch, holding you close to his chassis, "I was waiting for you to admit it."

"Because you won't admit it first?" You cling to him as he lowers you onto the plush blanket.

"Only if you get loud this time," Heatwave grins again and pins your arms above your head with one servo, and you just about whimper, "No one else is here; we don't have to worry," He reaches between to fiddle with his array, letting his aching spike spring free, "You can do that, right, sweetspark?"

You shakily breathe out as he rubs his spike against your slick, and you get the itch to look down as he does so, "Yeah..." It's girthed and lusty and positively throbbing against you. If he wants you to be loud instead of your usual shushed whimpers, lest a servo is covering your mouth, it's loud he's gonna get.

"Thought so." His tip finds your slit, and he pushes past the threshold, a low groan coming from above. He nestles his pelvis further against you to keep your thighs spread and persists in tenderly splitting you open.

With a soft whine and clenched eyes, it's sweet relief as he bottoms out. You feel his spike pulsing and pressing against your walls, and god, if he doesn't start ramming you into the floor-

Heatwave notices your tenseness and soothingly chuckles. He cups your chin with a pistol grip and tilts it up, "Hey, look at me." He coaxes you to open your eyes, and you find his peach-coloured optics beaming down, "Let me feel you."

While fully seated inside you, he takes a moment to appreciate your beauty. He doesn't move, not an inch. While you're sure he was teasing you, the soft grunts he makes and the way his hips twitch against you tell you he was more or less teasing himself. Usually, Heatwave wouldn't hesitate to start pounding you. With the knowledge of having all the time in the world for once, you suppose he's being deliberate in feeling everything your soft body has to offer.

"Heatwaveeee," You whine and tremble, to his amusement. All he does is chuckle and press an unchaste kiss to your lips. He readjusts himself, one servo clutching your hip, the other against the floor next to your head.

"Relax, sweetspark," Heatwave brushes his dermas against your neck. He slowly draws out of your tight pussy with a sneer, "Heatwave's gonna give it to you."

Before you can draw a breath, Heatwave slams himself back in, setting a rough pace that jolts through your body like a zap of electricity. There's no mercy with each thrust he gives you, pressing his spike deep within you that hits the sweet spot and makes your toes curl. A silent cry tries to leave your throat, but you're left with nothing but your own tongue to choke on.

Heatwave growls, his grip on your hip growing tighter to pull you into him in sync. The servo claws at the ground next to you, and you swore you could hear the blanket fibres splitting underneath. With his face still against your neck, he takes the opportunity to nip softly at it, a stark contrast to the brutelike treatment of your pussy.

"Frag it, Y/n-" He pants into you, travelling down to your collarbone to attack the skin there, "Love the way you take all of me, just like that."

You stutter and whine, arching your back as he sucks at your skin. Heatwave was always the one for dirty talk; he knows it gets you clenching around him, but you never get to really hear him, always hushed and soft. You've never been so grateful for an empty firehouse.

"Fuck me, Heatwave," You decide you'd join in on getting vocal, moaning louder than he's ever heard you. You're pleasantly rewarded by a few sharp thrusts that make you sputter.

"Ohh, do my audial receptors deceive me? Hm?" Heatwave peels himself from your neck and sits on his knees, both servos immediately gripping the thick of your hips, "You sound so pretty when you beg like that. I told you you could get loud, didn't I? Bet it feels good, doesn't it."

You don't have the mental capacity to respond to him, only giving him some drawn-out wanton moans. The wet, raw slapping of metal on skin becomes louder before thrusting into you at an almost neck-breaking speed. His optics stare down at you, half-lidded and entirely focused on your face.

You cry out, reaching to clutch on the blanket below you. The knot forms in your stomach as you feel yourself reaching the upper limits. Sweat beads across your body as Heatwave drags you within inches of the finish line. In an act of desperation, you reach out to a servo and tug on it. You need one final something to help you out, and you're positive Heatwave would enjoy it.

"Whatcha doin', gorgeous?" He groans out, letting you lead his servo to the base of your neck. A soft gasp leaves his vocaliser as he recognises that you want it wrapped around your neck, and he almost chokes himself.

You gaze up at him in the filthiest look you can muster, and you almost cry in delight as he curls his digits around your neck. He gives only the softest squeezes, enough to make your head spin and drag you further to the edge. With your aching pussy clamping down on him, he pounds into you, not unlike an animal, and you shove it to the back of your pounding head to remember this for next time.

"You're a dirty thing, you are." Heatwave moans wantonly, fucking into you roughly a few more times before pressing a thumb to your clit, rubbing aggressive circles as he gets caught in this newly discovered fantasy, "You gonna overload on my spike? Yeah, you are. Just look at yourself. C'mon, sweetspark."

Not once did he break eye contact, even through your weeping eyes, as the coil deep in your belly rips and tears you apart. Your walls clamp down on him, and you let out a half-strangled scream. With your orgasm making you tremble, Heatwave strives, grunting as he sends one last thrust deep inside. Gushes of hot transfluid fill you to the brim, leaking out onto the blanket below. He pulls out soon after, milking the rest onto your stomach.

"Whoa," Heatwave flops onto the empty space beside you, breathlessly chuckling, "Been a while since we had that much fun, huh?"

You're speechless at this point, still crashing down from heaven. And without another word, Heatwave reaches and slides you closer, and you immediately snuggle in. Sticky and wet, though both of you don't seem bothered by it.

"Wasn't too rough on you, was I?" Heatwave brushes a hair from your face, staring down at you adoringly.

You shake your head, face flushing at the sweet gesture. He's always been attentive with you, but thinking about how those digits were just wrapped around your neck, now feathery soft against your face, sends a jolt straight to your core, "No, not at all. It was... really hot."

Click.

Click.

Click.

Oh, how humiliating this is.

It hadn't bothered Chase that he was confined to a wheelchair, nor the fact that he was injured. The police bot had sustained plenty worse before.

What bothered him was how helpless he felt. Chase tried cutting into the coms with the team on the ground, inputting suggestions, but had been quickly dismissed by the Chief to perform surveillance on the town. Chase felt a tiny bit deflated, though, in truth, he was rather grateful and enthusiastic that he could still play a crucial role for the team. Sitting alone in the control centre, constantly flicking through surveillance cameras around the island and calling the Chief if he saw something slightly unusual.

Chase still wasn't sure what constituted 'usual' regarding humans. So, he kept flicking through video feeds, a twinge of excitement at the thought of the knowledge he could gather. His optics were fixed even on the screen's in-between static. With current rescue scenes, the view of the main street, and the bank, he had the whole island at his fingertips. He was determined to do his job with the utmost pride and diligence.

As he ran the feed further and further, he saw live feeds of residential homes peering into the open windows, strangely enough. Surely this was a violation of some kind, Chase thought. It was Griffin Rock, though; anything can happen. Even if it called for cameras in every nook and cranny, pointed at the unsuspecting humans going about their unusual hobbies. He makes a mental note to ask about this... violation of privacy later.

There was Mrs Neederlander, a man playing a rather interesting instrument, and a couple enjoying an outside meal, which he believes is called a... 'bee bee queue'? Fascinating.

However, when he clicks on the remote to the next feed, his optics whir into pinpoints, and his digit freezes above the 'next' button.

The live feed focuses on a window, barely concealed by the thin curtain; it may as well not be there. It shows a silhouette of a human, a hand between their thighs, thrusting an unusually shaped phallic object into them.

"Oh my-" Chase covers his intake in shock. This was unprecedented. He leans closer to the screen, unsure if his optics are playing tricks on him.

No, this human was certainly pleasuring themselves.

He's heard of it before; there are police codes for public acts similar to this. But technically, this wasn't in public. This was a human unknowingly being spied on in their own home, so the thought of passing this off to the Chief quickly fizzled out.

"Ohh, fuck-"

Oh dear, Chase thinks to himself, there's audio. He really shouldn't be watching this. Every fibre of this being urges him to click 'next', to pretend he never saw anything. An emergency could unfold on the next surveillance feed, and he'd be none the wiser.

But Primus, does this human sound delightful.

A small pulse behind his panels, and Chase stiffens. Despite wanting nothing else than to continue his work, his body has a different opinion on the matter. His optics remain fixed on the human's tight hole, swallowing the inadequately sized toy; his spike would do much better work on making you scream. He bites the tip of his digits in agonising thought, fighting with his inner turmoil. It's wrong. It's so wrong to even have that passing thought.

But no one is around. Chase did a whole sweep of the base. No one to walk in on him shamelessly touching himself to a complete stranger. Let alone a human.

But, he wanted knowledge. So, knowledge he will get.

Chase quickly digs his digit into the seam of his panels, and the pressure releases with a hiss. His spike falls into his servo perfectly, standing shamelessly tall and erect instantly. His face heats up in disgrace, not believing he would ever consider doing this. Still, he lounges back, somewhat relaxing into his wheelchair, and refocuses on the human.

He watches intently, stroking up and down in time with the toy. Chase had never thought of it, but he wondered how that little human would feel wrapped around his spike. The thought sends a jolt through his spine, and he strokes faster.

"You- You little devil-" Chase moans softly as the pleasurable sensation blooms in the pits of his tanks, "Turning a bot like me into a filthy animal." He re-adjusts himself in the chair so he can spread his thighs more, a shameful display if anyone were to walk into the room right now. But he keeps stroking, pumping himself to the thought of plunging his spike into the little human. That tight, slick hole dripping all over it. Now his mind wanders again, wondering what it would be like, what you would smell like, taste like.

Chase never thought he could feel such envy like this, watching greedily as they collect dribbles of cum with a fingertip only to wrap a soft tongue around it.

It's all too much for his processor to handle; the sight of the human pleasingly sucking their finger, the toy still pressed deep inside that fleshy valve. Chase arches into his wheelchair, gripping the armrest with the same intensity as his spike and overloads. He fucks into his servo aimlessly, moaning and tossing his helm around with every erupting throb of his spike. Transfluid messily coats his digits and paints his thighs.

The police bot vents heavily and slumps back, groaning softly. His optics flicker open, not realising that he had squeezed them shut, and he looks back at the screen. The human was gone; only a tiny wet patch remained of you on the sheets.

Chase looks down at his lap, a bubble of shame creeping through his frame.

so perfectly normal about him I swear

Word count: 1800+

Warnings: Smut ( rough interfacing and spike in valve ) dom Dreadwing and angst. NSFW 18+.

Notes: You asked for it anon and you got it. Really enjoyed working with this darling beast. Sorry for the delay. I decided to make the reader his significant other so hope that's alright. Also might've gotten a little dark and controlling along the way with a angst sort of end so hope that twist is alright. 🥰

Coffee ☕

The storm was harsh, nothing the war ship couldn't handle, but that's not what has you worried. Dreadwing wasn't answering his com and you weren't able to find him anywhere on the ship, and after what felt like yours you finally return to your private quarters and wait there for him, only to end up pacing the room, making you look like you've lost your mind. Perhaps you have.

Then finally, he returns, soaking wet that proves that he was outside for whatever reason. But he seems lost, broken, like not even the sight of you was enough to make him smile just a little.

"Primus...Dreadwing, where have you been? I've been trying to get a hold of you." Your words fade as you continue to gawk your optics at him while he passes you as if you weren't even there, and you don't like this one bit. "Don't you dare ignore me! What happened?"

"Nothing." That wasn't convincing.

"Well something happened to put you in this sour and miserable mood. Why have you been ignoring me?" You continue to throw questions at him, both annoyed and worried for him.

Watching him sit on the berth and keep his optics averted down on the floor before you approach him, your tone lowered when you see that he's hurting. "Darling, please talk to me."

"I don't want to talk about it." His tone is gloomy, his optics still not meeting your gaze.

Talking about emotions wasn't his thing, you know this already, and on a rare moment he might open up as you will too. You were together, not bonded, but you've been through a lot over the past years together. You loved him and always stuck by his side no matter what. When he found out about the news of his twin brother it broke his spark, though he didn't show his mourning for him to anyone else but you. Now here you both are as you try to get through to him.

"Alright, fine." You sigh before stepping in front of him and touch his shoulder plating lightly. "How can I help you? I'll do whatever you want."

"Anything?" He sounds curious.

"If it helps you, then yeah."

The silence lingers in the room, a calming peace you might call it, and a part of you thinks you might've gotten through and he'll open up about what is bothering him, at least this is what you had hoped for.

Dreadwing finally looks at you, optics staring into your own, like he's trying to start a flame between you both. This confuses you as he's never looked at you in such a way before. He looks almost feral, a beast slowly crawling its way out right before you.

"On your knees."

"Excuse me?" You're baffled by his demand.

"On. Your. Knees."

This time he grabs a tight hold on your arms, tugging you off the berth to stand in front of him again. You feel your vents hitch from the sudden action and the growing tightness he held, your entire frame tense as you stare at him. There's no emotion in his face, nothing.

You finally moved onto your knees, slowly sinking, with your optics fastened onto his own as you kneel before him. He retracts his panel and his enormous spike springs out into your view, hard and throbbing close to your face.

"Use that mouth of yours."

"Are you being serious?" You have to ask him, because this is beyond the Dreadwing you know. He may look tough, primus he is strong and a skilled warrior, but when it's just the two of you he's always gentle and loving to you. Never controlling or dominant. What's happened that has changed him?

His answer is by gripping the back of her helm and pulling you towards his erect spike. His leaking tip brushes up against your cheek plating leaving a trail of trans fluids and making you give out a short grunt from the contact. He's dead serious.

Your servos are placed over his upper thick thighs, digits digging into the soft metal armour, throwing him a stiff stare, before taking his spike in your servo and giving him a tug along his throbbing base. Whatever got him riled up, you'll help settle him back down.

Shuffling forward you coil your glossa across his leaking tip and give him a firm suck, swallowing his leaking trans fluids with a satisfied hum before you start to slowly take more of him. Working both your servos at his base you feel every throb and ridge running along him, you mouth opens wider so you can take more of him, using your glossa to glide across every bumpy ridge, slowly bobbing your helm down along his spike and taking as much of him as you can.

You almost had him all the way, but his size doesn't seem to make that possible so you gently squeeze and pump what you couldn't take and start to move your mouth along him, every pulse from his cable vibrating against your glossa.

As you work him you hear his heavy moans lingering deeply in the air. You can't look up due to him having his servo pressed behind the back of your helm, at first pushing you only a little against him forcing you to relax your intake as best as you can.

You think to yourself that you may as well use this moment to get off yourself as you dip your servo down between your thighs where you've already retracted your panel and your valve was eagerly waiting to be touched. Letting out a fluttering moan you rub your sensitive node and press a digit into your depths, working yourself as you suck Dreadwing off following his demand you continue to try and give him the best damn blow job you've ever given him. It's not often you go down on him, he always likes to frag you face and face, more romantic like.

Not tonight.

He suddenly pushes you down on him more, forcing a whimpered gag to leave you while you focus your intake to relax more for him as you pump two digits into your soaking valve.

This changes when he stands up abruptly and thrusts his large hips against your mouth, forcing another muffled whimper out of you as he keeps both servos against the back of your helm as he pretty much face frags you, small drops of his trans fluids escaping from the corner of your mouth and pooling against the floor.

He only does this for a moment before he lets go of your helm and you pull away, coughing and venting harshly while feeling both aroused and a little overwhelmed by his actions.

In the silence he tugs you up a little harshly, kissing you firmly, before pushing you against the berth, face down. This is also new. With more silence he positions you the way he wants, pushing your shoulder down and lifting your waist up so your aft is level with him, kicking your legs apart and positions his leaking tip against your valve.

He thrusts, firmly, his frame pressing up against your aft as he fills you completely. The stretch is sudden causing you to hiss out. Dreadwing is rather thick, which you love, but everything is just so different tonight as your mind is sent into a frenzy by both Dreadwing and the growing arousal that boils through your frame.

There's a tight hold at your hips before you feel him snap his waist into you over again, spike firmly entering and leaving you over again. Your body rocks against the berth, scraping metal hitting your audios as you try to relax yourself and hold onto anything for leverage.

"Frag...Dreadwing." You sob his name mildly through your burning arousal. He's fragging you so firmly, rutting against your aft like a feral beast in heat. Each smack, each grunt given by him, it adds to your own arousal, already feeling yourself stimulated by his surprising actions as you lay there and take it like a good femme.

Both his fluids and your own mix together, running down your legs and pooling against the floor, the berth creaking with every harsh movement given to you by him.

His grip doesn't loosen, in fact, it's tightening, and you know without a doubt you're going to have dents left against your hip plating. Dreadwing, your love, your handsome warrior, fragging you to his desire, using your body and letting out whatever anger that was trapped in him out through you. His heated grunts only grew more feral, spike throbbing like crazy, and you know he's getting close.

He's on your back than, his intense fragging never ceasing. His fierce growls filling your audio making you quiver with ambition, growing a liking to the rough treatment that you respond very positively through. Than it happens.

You feel yourself break loose through a rapid overload as it erupts through your entire frame and sends shocks through Dreadwing's throbbing spike. His harsh vents crackle as his movements stagger before he collapses against your back, full weight, forcing a grunt out of you as his warm fluids fill and soak your depths.

Your body lays there front first against the berth with him laying on top of you, his weight slowly starts to strain your own so you try to shift out from under him. He gets the silent message and finally removes himself from you, only for you to hear him making soft half broken sounds. He's crying.

"What the frag?" As much as your valve aches, your concern was on Dreadwing again. Despite what happened just now, you didn't care. You both got off, overloaded, it was fine and you did get aroused by the change.

Dreadwing is almost curled up against the berth before you are at his side, caressing his face plating and holding him close as you settle yourself against his side, letting out comforting purrs into his audio to try and give him any form of comfort that didn't have anything to do with interfacing.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's fine."

"I hurt you..."

"You didn't." You say to him, trying to be convincing. Maybe he did, but you weren't mad about it. A little rough interfacing was fine. "I'm fine, I promise. Now please, lay down. We'll talk more after some recharge, and you're going to explain everything." Perhaps he might open up once he's gotten some good nights rest.

Finally he's listening and you both end up curled up in the berth together, him clinging to your side with his helm resting against your chassis. All you can do is continue to stroke his helm and let out soft purrs that he seems to be liking.

"I love you, my beautiful warrior." You hear him say next, making you smile calmly.

"As I love you, darling."

The storm outside eases, but another is already starting to brew.