Send my muse a wet dream and they will rate it on how they wake up!
1. Discomfort/Disgusted
2. Confused/Uncomfortably aroused
3. Slightly aroused
4. Very aroused
5. Had an orgasm in their sleepSaddleback has to spend a few minutes sitting in her berth, blearily, blinking and staring at the wall because what…what just happened? What was that? Of course, she doesn’t question her processor too much before she’s scrambling to get her box of toys out from under the berth. She…she’s got one based off a mechanimal, right?
She’s going to need a little help to work off that charge.
Tag: Saddleback
Feisty
Blackspark plays a lecherous bounty-hunting captor while Saddleback plays a naive Autobot in over her head – fun times for everyone!
An off-tumblr roleplay with @bettsplendens (Blackspark) who also plays the big adorable @gravescratch. Edited together and posted with permission.
Verse: Aligned(ish), postwar
Characters: Saddleback, Blackspark
Tags/Warnings: Sticky sexual interfacing, BDSM, roleplaying, sex toys, the amazing Rack Of Wonders, spanking, double penetration, triple penetration (?), modded interfacing equipment, aft/anal sex, sounding, that’s not what medical scanners are for, voyeurism, recording, headspace/subspace, consent talk, aftercare, they are roleplaying a kidnapping scenario with dubious consent even though it’s been talked out beforehand so also a warning for that, dirty talk, uh, I don’t know if there’s an actual tag for some things, interesting uses for transfluid 101, a literal sex machine?, not just the characters like, a piece of sex furniture, wow this is a lot of things
Under a cut because it’s freakin’ enormous!
✌
Small. Round. Fast. Durable.
Perfect for a chase.
And she puts up a good chase, too. She’s agile, strong- hard to hold onto. But he’s determined, and he’s never yet run into something he can’t run down and jump on.
And it is fun when he catches her for good. She’s small enough to corral with all six limbs, and she makes wonderful noises when he starts licking, and she tastes good.
The praise almost stops him, though. Not because it’s bad, far from it. Because it makes him want to crumple into her lap and croon and let himself be petted and rubbed by someone who understands. More specifically, someone who understands enough to not take advantage of his compliance, who has some idea of what
…maybe they can do that after they’ve exhausted themselves.
♥
Gravescratch has two recharge settings; “I am around predators but need rest” shallow napping, and “I have found a safe place goodnight world” too-deep-to-be-woken-by-anything-but-searing-pain sleep.
Having an actual berth triggers the latter, evidently.
Which is why the presence of another person in his space doesn’t wake him up. Honestly, it helps that the person in question is small, round, smooth, and not trying to eat him.
When he does gradually start to wake up, he just rumbles softly and curls tighter around the heat source, pressing his stomach against-
Wait.
This is new.
‘Three assorted optics flicker open, focusing on nothing whatsoever, and most of his antennae perk in odd directions rather than swiveling towards the sound. It does take some time to get seven optics and six antennae back on schedule after a good long sleep, after all.
So, rather than trying to look at or listen to whatever it is, Gravescratch picks his helm up slightly, lolls out his tongue, and licks at- what turns out to be someone’s face.
Whoops.
This is a person.
There is definitely a small, round, pleasantly warm person in his berth with him.
But he’s alive, not in pain, and not restrained, so… probably a friendly person.
Now who the Pit is this?
He doesn’t remember yet.
Therefore, more licks. Along with plenty of inquiring sounds.
Really, his only thought right know is “???” without even any words. He could wake up quickly if he had to, but he seems to be fine. Whoever this is tastes fairly calm, and they’re nice and warm.
*bangs fists on table* SHE IS A GOOD GIRL SHE DESERVES TREATS
My TFOC Saddleback in a good position. Wanted to doodle up some quick smuttiness between real life stuff.
A slight helm-tilt, too many optics flickering independently of each other to size up her frame in just an instant, then a narrow servo reaches out and lightly caresses one pointed cheek-fin, albeit cautiously in case it earns him an attempt at a bite. They’re too tempting to resist, not when he has something like permission.
“…What are- oh.” She stiffens up, stocky little body tense and wheels preemptively starting to spin before they stop, and…the caress is apparently accepted. The cheekguards are nothing special, just designed to protect her faceplates during an impact, to frame her jaw to look interesting, but they’re seldom touched. It feels a little weird. Okay, that’s kind of nice. Leaning her helm into the touch.
Saddleback yelps- then laughs when she winds up with a lapfull of mech, shifting so she can keep petting and stroking around the base of his antennae and jaw. “I see I found somebody’s switches.” She chuckles, still stroking and rubbing. “It’s all good…how’s this?” Tweaking antennae lightly.
“So, what is your altmode? I mean, you don’t have to answer, I know it’s a sore subject for some people…You’re kinda big to be a turbofox or a datahound.”
“Mmm… actually something rather like a datahound crossed with a cyberwolf. Not a terribly drastic transformation, a few joints just shift. Also the tail. That is normally used for steering, but sometimes this happens. And, ah- the jaws around my neck. I am made to out-sprint a target over short distances or follow them until they tire… something like you, I imagine. Though, honestly, I believe I could outsprint you.” he rumbles, and it would be rather intimidating if he wasn’t still flopped into Saddleback’s lap, petting her and shoving his face into the touches.
And, as for the antennae, Gravescratch purrs for a moment more and pricks them up, speaking quietly as he does. “That feels very nice, but I feel I should tell you that stroking the entire length of the longer two pairs will have… unintended consequences.” he rumbles, keeping the tone neutral so it’s not clear if he meant that as a warning or a suggestion. Really, it could be either. Or both.
As he talks, his servos stray down from Saddleback’s audial fins to her cheekplates, and the ones on her cheeks slip down to rub her lower jaw and around the back of her helm, still soft, innocent petting. And a hint- he likes being rubbed around the edges of the plating his antennae are mounted in.
My dentae are primarily made for crushing and grinding, and my jaw hinge allows me to shift my lower jaw back and forth in a sawing motion if I need to (roughly) sever something. If I need to tear into a larger meal, I generally transform the lower jaw of my alt mode into place so I can use the sharp fangs. When my mouth is closed, my dentae retract slightly to save space, and if I am not using them, I can keep them retracted with my mouth open in order to avoid threatening people.
#nervous sweating#I SHOULD MAYBE NOT HAVE PUT MY HANDS SO CLOSE TO THAT MOUTH
You’re quite nice. I’m not about to bite the hand that pets me.
Except if it’s condescending “look at the tracker dog being a good boy” helm-patting, because then I will bite it off.
A slight helm-tilt, too many optics flickering independently of each other to size up her frame in just an instant, then a narrow servo reaches out and lightly caresses one pointed cheek-fin, albeit cautiously in case it earns him an attempt at a bite. They’re too tempting to resist, not when he has something like permission.
“…What are- oh.” She stiffens up, stocky little body tense and wheels preemptively starting to spin before they stop, and…the caress is apparently accepted. The cheekguards are nothing special, just designed to protect her faceplates during an impact, to frame her jaw to look interesting, but they’re seldom touched. It feels a little weird. Okay, that’s kind of nice. Leaning her helm into the touch.
She jumps a bit- but laughs- it tickles! Her palm is oddly soft- there’s thick padding upon it, something to increase her grip, and she tastes like road salt and sweet silver shavings (someone clearly was having a snack earlier) and a hint of mechanical oil- the kind used in maintaining weaponry. Huh. “That’s unsanitary.” She doesn’t pull her hand away though, still petting his head, her own helm rolling to rest against his servos wherever they go. It’s strange, how peaceful this feels. “I mean, I wash my servos, but you’re gonna get some grit in there.”
Electing to not explain that he’s unbothered by small amounts of grit because most of his meals are made up of small vermin and dead things, Gravescratch licks at her palm again, humming softly and absolutely enjoying the taste and the odd texture. Mm. Probably shouldn’t lick too much, it will most likely be misconstrued and will absolutely be weird, but- okay, once more. And then a mutter of “you taste like snack foods” by way of explanation.
And, hm. Rumbling softly with himself, he sits down and flops down onto his side, propping himself up with one of his secondary arms in order to lounge comfortably around Saddleback’s pedes. While still rubbing the nice spots around her helm with both primary servos. “We are both very relaxed. Come down here so that can continue?” he suggests, then blinks and tilts his helm slightly, realizing how that might sound. “I am not propositioning you. Floors are not comfortable for that.”
A slight helm-tilt, too many optics flickering independently of each other to size up her frame in just an instant, then a narrow servo reaches out and lightly caresses one pointed cheek-fin, albeit cautiously in case it earns him an attempt at a bite. They’re too tempting to resist, not when he has something like permission.
“…What are- oh.” She stiffens up, stocky little body tense and wheels preemptively starting to spin before they stop, and…the caress is apparently accepted. The cheekguards are nothing special, just designed to protect her faceplates during an impact, to frame her jaw to look interesting, but they’re seldom touched. It feels a little weird. Okay, that’s kind of nice. Leaning her helm into the touch.
“Aw.” She shuffles a little when his servos wander to her pedes, still watching him patiently from behind her visor, but she manages to keep her legs mostly still- for such an otherwise sturdily-built mechanism her pedes are meant to be flexible and graceful- and powerful. Launching power rather than outright running. For the most part, she’s distracted by his helm, slowly petting it, looking over his optics and antennae.
“You have…a lot of sensory capability, don’t you? Look at all these. You don’t have any blind spots, do you?” Muttering more to herself than him, observations, rubbing along the base of an antennae, testing.
Gravescratch was made to be solitary, but, oh, being touched is still lovely. Rumbling softly, he pushes his helm further into Saddleback’s servo, raising his antennae to encourage more rubs. As he does, his optics shutter in a wave, starting at the front and ending with the back pair a few seconds later. “Mmn… none. The only place I cannot see is directly behind my own helm, and these” a quick twitch-flick of all six antennae “cover that.”
Both secondary servos flicker over her ankle and pede, fingertips mapping out the intricate joints, careful not to get into any joints that could trap him. Interesting. Digitigrade pedes are unusual, especially on people whose frames do not look like his. And these betray a certain agility… she’s probably faster than she looks.
Now rather curious as to what might happen if he turns an exam into something more like petting, he raises his unoccuied primary servo, continuing to pet at her cheek guard as he ever-so-carefully traces two fingertips on the other servo over her audial fin. These tend to be sensitive on most people.
Saddleback strokes under his helm with one servo, using the other to trace his antennae slowly, carefully- jolting a bit as he touches her audials and stifling a sharp intake of air. Sensitive- but she can relax after a moment, tuning down their sensitivity for now. “Mm, I wish I had that range of vision. I could do with some sensory antennae…but I make do.” Her wheels still lazily spin, rotating back and forth in reponse to the touches, shifting her weight from pede to pede.
It’s nice to have someone larger who isn’t necessarily looming over her.
Okay, so no firm strokes to audial fins. Nice and gentle, still just one servo, willing to pull away if she wants. He likes the texture, so he touches the delicate finlet for a few seconds more, then slides his fingertips down to just lightly caress her lower jaw. Still curious, still innocent, but bordering on affectionate.
And, hm. “Pardon me, but taste is a primary sense for me when I am investigating something, so… “ Gravescratch rumbles, trailing off, and just demonstrates rather than explaining. Parting his jaws just a fraction, not enough to show teeth, he flicks the very tip of his tongue out and licks Saddleback’s palm, curious what he might pick up on. Sometimes he can tell a lot about people by what their servos taste like. The only difficulty is that this can be rather… stimulating. Hopefully he’s gotten this right and not accidentally scared her off. Or gotten himself punched, that happens now and then when he miscalculates things.
A slight helm-tilt, too many optics flickering independently of each other to size up her frame in just an instant, then a narrow servo reaches out and lightly caresses one pointed cheek-fin, albeit cautiously in case it earns him an attempt at a bite. They’re too tempting to resist, not when he has something like permission.
“…What are- oh.” She stiffens up, stocky little body tense and wheels preemptively starting to spin before they stop, and…the caress is apparently accepted. The cheekguards are nothing special, just designed to protect her faceplates during an impact, to frame her jaw to look interesting, but they’re seldom touched. It feels a little weird. Okay, that’s kind of nice. Leaning her helm into the touch.
“Aw.” She shuffles a little when his servos wander to her pedes, still watching him patiently from behind her visor, but she manages to keep her legs mostly still- for such an otherwise sturdily-built mechanism her pedes are meant to be flexible and graceful- and powerful. Launching power rather than outright running. For the most part, she’s distracted by his helm, slowly petting it, looking over his optics and antennae.
“You have…a lot of sensory capability, don’t you? Look at all these. You don’t have any blind spots, do you?” Muttering more to herself than him, observations, rubbing along the base of an antennae, testing.
Gravescratch was made to be solitary, but, oh, being touched is still lovely. Rumbling softly, he pushes his helm further into Saddleback’s servo, raising his antennae to encourage more rubs. As he does, his optics shutter in a wave, starting at the front and ending with the back pair a few seconds later. “Mmn… none. The only place I cannot see is directly behind my own helm, and these” a quick twitch-flick of all six antennae “cover that.”
Both secondary servos flicker over her ankle and pede, fingertips mapping out the intricate joints, careful not to get into any joints that could trap him. Interesting. Digitigrade pedes are unusual, especially on people whose frames do not look like his. And these betray a certain agility… she’s probably faster than she looks.
Now rather curious as to what might happen if he turns an exam into something more like petting, he raises his unoccuied primary servo, continuing to pet at her cheek guard as he ever-so-carefully traces two fingertips on the other servo over her audial fin. These tend to be sensitive on most people.
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