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Sweet Like Chocolate (Venom Drabble)

Eddie/Venom x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: Venom's enjoys it when you're his host.

CW: fluff, making fun of Eddie

Venom Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

WE ARE NOT A BABY.

You tut and continue about making Venom’s tater tots. It hadn’t really been a genuine thought. It’s just that when you and Eddie trade Venom between you like parents trading a toddler for alone time, it kind of felt that way at times. Not that you were complaining, of course. Any time with Venom piggybacking in your head was time well spent in your own personal opinion. 

It was just a shame that you weren’t a better match. Then he could come around with you more often. But no, that was Eddie’s responsibility, it would seem. 

“I know, V- you know how human brains work. Thoughts just pop in unannounced.” 

I WILL ALLOW IT.

 

You chuckle and pour yourself a glass of wine. A tendril of Venom’s form spreads from your back to put the wine bottle away for you, and you thank him kindly. Checking the timer on the tots, you frown. They were going to be at least another fifteen minutes. 

“What do you want to do tonight, V?” You ask, plopping down on the lounge chair and taking a sip. 

WE WANT TO SPEND TIME WITH YOU. 

You smile softly, and Venom chuckles in your brain in response. That took some getting used to, actually, hearing someone laugh in your mind. But like all things, you acclimated. 

“We’re doing that, buddy,” you reply. 

YOU ARE FAR NICER THAN EDDIE. EDDIE IS MEAN. 

You take another swig of your wine and flick the TV on quietly, flipping through to get to Venom’s favourite channel. 

“How do you mean? Eddie’s a sweetie deep down,” you respond, finally finding the channel and putting the subtitles on for yourself. Eddie was always a sweetie. It was just that he was a bit gruff. Venom grunts. 

EDDIE’S AN ASSHOLE. 

You hear the bathroom door creak open and turn around, seeing Venom’s tendril rooting around in there for something. You don’t question it further than that, knowing that whatever he’s looking for will be found. 

You’re proven correct when the tendril returns with your hairbrush. You dutifully fluff your hair out from the neck of your cardigan for Venom, who hums appreciatively and begins to brush at your hair. 

It’s something he likes to do for you. You’re not sure whether it’s because he enjoys the sensation himself, or whether it’s something he does for you. It could be both, all things considered. Your eyes flutter shut, and you lose yourself in the motions for a few minutes. 

“He can be an ass,” you finally acquiesce. “But he means well.” 

Venom’s head materialises from over your shoulder and faces you. His tendril pauses its ministrations in your hair for a moment, and he appears thoughtful. 

“I suppose,” Venom replies. “We prefer you. Prettier host.” 

You flush pink and brush a hand over Venom’s cheek. Or what would be his cheek, you supposed? 

“You’re a sweet thing, V.” 

Venom nods, ripples of his skin flowing over his form. 

“Like chocolate, yes?” 

You laugh and make to get up when the timer for the tater tots goes off. 

“Like chocolate.”

[tentakelspektakel]

TFP Megatron references Part 1!

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What op said ✨️

- - Lord Megatron 🛐🛐🛐

(I'm breathing unevenly against his hips.. omg)

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Beautiful 🥹💖

Steadily, once a year, I catch hyperfix on Darksiders 🗣️

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so i have a new fictional crush….

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A r t

The Divided River

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some stupid doodles from magma with my friends-

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NEW VIDEOS ON YOUR FAVORITE CHANNEL📢📢💥🆘📢💥🆘🆘📢🆘

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Dreadwing did not, in fact, understand the assignment.

Megatron is ringmaster of a clown circus and only Soundwave went to a professional clown college.

May need to click on the image for better resolution.

Joke workshopped with @krazycat6167

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All hail the metal husband

Finished this piece finally! Took a while due to new base style, but I like it:'D

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give us a smile, everyone!

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Aaaa It's so good love !!!

Can't believe I missed it 😭💖

It has been a while since last time, but as promised, here’s the illustration for Connect Skin and Soul! So if you’re interested what is going on here, go ahead and read that story! It’s cute, I promise! 😁 A bit long, but it's worth it! 🥺

Yes, I’ve overdone a little (I’m sorry, I’m in med, I cannot not overdo the medical details, I love them 😇)

Forgive me for the hiatus, my mind didn’t really like me this past month, but it seems like the new med combo’s working 🥰

So without further ado here’s poor Lasha trying to preserve her work, and keep the Marshal Commander in bed, for Force’s sake! 🦊

Tagsie(s): @lonewolflupe

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BABES ?!?!?! I AM SPEECHLESS?!?!? THA K YOU SO MUCH AA AAAA😭😭💖💖💖💖 THIS IS SO SWEET IVE BEEN SO BUSY AND SICK THE PAST WEEKS AND THIS IS JUST THE SWEETEST SURPRISE 😭💖💖 THANK YOU AGAIN MY LOVE I AM.SO GLAD YOU LKKE HER 🥹🥹🥹🥹

DAY 11 | Jedi Erress for @tentakelspektakel <3

Advent Calendar and some ramblings below the cut (:

LE GASP this isn't a clone?!? Lupe drew something ELSE for once?!?!?!? Yes, yes I did.

Dear Tenta,

Ooooh you’re such a kind person and talented artist, thank you so much for encouraging me on my own artistic journey <3 Seeing your art on my dash always sparks joy, and recently I’ve fallen in love with your gorgeous Jedi OC Erress! I HAD to draw her, so here she is as my Advent gift to you! I had so, so much fun drawing her; especially the hair and the braids (I never liked drawing hair with a mouse, but with a pen on screen it’s actually SO MUCH FUN)! I would love to learn more about Erress, I can’t wait to see new content! Thank you for always being so kind, supportive and enthusiastic; you’re such an amazing person! <3

Happy Holidays!

Love, Lupe

day 10 | ↓ | day 12

Advent Event info

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Pairing: D-16/Megatron x gn!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: After witnessing your conjunx endura descend into madness, you're left alone with your thoughts as the city of Iacon slowly begins to rebuild anew. However, your lover visits you the night he was banished from the city.  Warnings/Tags: Bittersweet, slight angst, cybertronian reader, pre-established relationship, possible corruption, ambiguous ending, and spoilers for the Transformers One movie.  Word Count: 1200+ words 

Something was wrong. 

You knew something was wrong when you felt something burst within your spark chamber. Your digits brushed against the space where your T-cog would be and…

You winced as the pain shot through the bond again. You could describe it as the feeling of sharp pieces of Energon flowing through your circuits. Hot and angry, then as somber as ice. 

Working in the Energon mines meant that danger could be lurking around the corner at any given moment. 

You understood this fact well, especially when working in the same crew as your sparkmate and his best friend. 

The rambunctious duo always had something going wrong for them as the cycles passed. Sometimes you ended up with the short end of the stick when you joined in on the 'fun.' On the other, you were watching from the sidelines as the two would get punished for their (mostly Orion's) schemes. The emotions shared through the bond were as warm as joy, slight pinches coming from D's annoyance, and the gentle touch of the love you two shared discreetly. 

 

So, why were you only sensing pain? 

What was happening to your lover? Was he safe? Did someone hurt him? Where was Pax while your conjunx endura's chaotic turmoil nearly made your optics teary? 

Where was he? 

Where was D-16? 

 

—--

Orion was shorter….the last time you interacted with him. 

Now? He easily towered over the crowd like a sore digit. You were beside yourself as your strained audials to listen to his words. 

Betrayal, Sentinel, Change. 

They were empowering, not quite heavy but it certainly stirred hope among the miners as they cheered. 

But, what of D-16? 

For a moment, Orion's optics met yours and confirmed your fears.

Something had happened to D-16. 

Here in the open for all of the citizens of Iacon to see was the fall of Sentinel Prime. His end? An impostor sharing the face of your mate who claimed the title of 'Megatron.' 

Who was this stranger with the face of your lover and why couldn't you feel him through the bond anymore? 

You remembered trying to tug at the bond, pulling and twisting to get something to react in response to your desperation. Your optics never strayed from the figure who stood above all of you. 

Yet, nothing came. Wait…

You could have sworn you saw 'Megatron's' optics scanning the crowd before they found their way to yours. 

Time slowed for the first time and you tried to search for anything, something in that stranger's optic for any presence of D-16. 

For a moment, the fiery glow of those optics dimmed. 

Then….

He turned away and never looked back in the direction where you stood again. 

Not even after Orion Pax, now Optimus Prime, banished him from Iacon. 

Your spark broke that day. 

Darkness covered the desolate area where most miners spend their nights in recharge. You stood before your conjunx endura berth, digits caressing the chipped stickers he had collected over time of his idol. The lights shining from your optics misted and you leaned closer to rest your forehelm on the space that once belonged to D-16. 

"____." A voice spoke from behind you.

You spun around and threw a punch, but the massive servo enveloping your servo stunned you. 

"D…?" You murmured in disbelief. 

'D-16' narrowed his optics and didn't respond when you pulled your servo out of his. 

"It's...Megatron now." 

"Right, right, sorry…I'm a little late on the new…this," You threw your hand up to gesture to his shiny, new frame. 

'Megatron' didn't appear amused at your sass and even drew closer to you. His steps felt daunting with each step he took as if the ground of the miners quarters would buckle beneath his weight. 

Backing up against the berth put into perspective how smaller you were compared to the mech. Megatron stepped closer and closed the distance between the two of you. He raised a servo near your faceplate, a low growl left his intake as you turned defiantly. 

 

"Did you not see why I had to do this? Why I had to become-" 

"-Ha!" You snorted and snapped your helm to look at him. "You mean when I tried 'seeing' you earlier? I'm pretty sure I wasn't the one who cut off their sparkmate from the bond  for no reason." 

"And another thing." You pushed against the edges of the berth and stepped forward with your chassis bumping against his. The larger mech could easily shove you back, but retreated as you approached. The silver mech mesmerized by the way your optics flickered into a darker shade only to snap out of it when you questioned him with, "Why did you return to me? Why now? I was certain you'd abandon me-" 

"-do you think so lowly of me as well?!" Megatron pushed back. His servo stretched to catch you when you stumbled, but dropped it when you flinched from his approaching touch. 

His servo was clenched as he drew it back to his side. Digits rubbed together to replace the lack of heat that usually came from your frame held under his grasp.

With a tilt of your helm, you asked, "I don't know anymore…one moment I'm happy spending the rest of my days with my sparkmate, but he disappears, and then returns as a power-hungry tyrant…what else am I supposed to think of you, D…no…Megatron?" 

Megatron did not speak, not that he knew how to. 

Silence fell upon the lovers, neither willing to break the tension. Not until now. 

"I came here…to see you," D-16 yielded. His soft voice easing the suspicion gnawing at you ever since he arrived, finally your frame went lax as his face became familiar. This was your conjunx endura, the one you bonded with and not whoever was there previously. 

"To ask if you'll join me, my love." 

"What?" You hissed. 

"Come with me," Megatron urged. "I have risked everything coming back here for you and I will not ask again." 

You brought a servo to your helm and felt a pit grow in your tanks. 

"Join me because I promise you…" Megatron leaned down to hold your gaze, "...the next time we see each other will be the end of us." 

"I…" You glanced at his servo that reached for you, most likely for the last time. Your optical ridges furrowed and Megatron's optics shimmered with delight as your servo fell over his. The larger servo enveloped the smaller one and pressed the palm of your servo against his spark chamber. Right over the area where Sentinel's previous cog was ripped out of him. 

The memory struck a chord in you. Becoming the thing to make you sober from the high of what this relationship could have been. Should have been. 

It could still happen, only if you said yes…but what fate would fall on Iacon if you joined the one bot desiring the destruction of the new era? 

Megatron watched the conflict swimming on your face, his thumb caressing the back of your servo as the other came up to settle on your waist. 

 

After a while, you gave him your answer. 

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. banner(s) by @kodaswrld !!

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This is so sweet I CANT AAAA

Metal in Flesh

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (GN, has a vagina) Rating: E WC: 4.4k Warnings: None, it's pure smut & fluff. A special thank you to @statuetochka for indulging my silly ideas & drawing his hands so much. ===

He tastes like his machine oil. Freshly cleaned, not a trace of dirt between his purple-painted joints. It’s hard not to flex your tongue against him, to explore the little creases in his plates that tease the side of your tongue.

But the hand on your jaw and the precarious placement of his fingers- two under your tongue, his thumb on top, keep you still. He’s exploring. Though it’s not your tongue itself that he’s examining. He drags his thumb down, making the object of his obsession spin- a particularly strange feeling that is still novel even after so long healed.

It’s only taken him a few months into your relationship to notice- or at least to ask about it.

“…Why?” Is the particularly succinct question he comes up with.

“Becath aylikith”

Ramattra’s gaze lifts ever so slightly, from your pinned tongue to your face. Reluctantly, he lets go. You push saliva over your tongue, wetting it before you try speaking again.

“I said, because I like it. I like how it looks.”

“Aesthetics?” Ramattra tips his head, looks down to your lips. You obligingly open your mouth again and present the jeweled rod again. This time, he just looks at it, rather than trapping the muscle for investigation. “I would think that should hurt rather badly just for aesthetics.”

“It did.” You confirm. “When I first got it, it hurt a lot, I couldn’t even eat the first day. But it’s all healed now. Doesn’t hurt at all.” To prove it, you catch the bead on your top lip and pull your tongue sideways, making the entire piercing rotate again. “Besides, you’re in no place to judge; I know you also changed stuff on yourself for how it looked.”

He scoffs, “That is hardly the same. Repainting my enamel coat isn’t remotely painful, nor did it impair such a basic, important function as eating.” He touches the purple plate at the back of one hand with the other. It’s more subconscious than anything, but you still watch his hands with that same fascination. “Besides, my modifications aren’t exclusively aesthetics.”

You grin widely. That kind of stubbornness, the mild disdain in his vocoder… It’s so easy to goad him. “Neither is mine! It has a very good use, actually.”

Ramattra’s head actually bobs as he modulates a disbelieving noise, “Really? Exactly what functional purpose does a metal rod in your mouth serve?”

Excitement washes over you and you don’t bother trying to hide it. “I can show you! I’ve kind of been meaning to for a while, actually, but you keep insisting I don’t have to.” This alone makes his head twitch to the side, perplexed, intrigued. You reach for his hand, and he happily allows you to take it and bring it back to your face, much too curious.

Here, you pause and stare up at the dark slits for his optics. His huge fingers caress over your cheek, cool and firm against your skin as you gently kiss the circular rubber pad of his palm. Ramattra hums softly- which breaks into a stuttered, staticked mess of a noise as you lick that rubber pad. He can feel it, you’re almost sure given the twitching of his fingers against your cheek. Those pads are sensitive, meant for traction and precision- you know he must feel the warmth, the softness of your tongue completely surrounding the hard point of the piercing’s ball. Even with your spit, the metal drags against rubber, catching on the textured ridges.

“You--” His voice cuts out, glitches sharply as though gasping. It’s a rare treat to see him worked up, indulging his own desires, so you bask in the roughened sound of his voice and the dull hum of his ventilation system ramping up. “I should have known it would be that...”

You grin again, then kiss his palm innocently, as though you don’t feel the warmth that’s now radiating from him. “I did want to use it sooner. You’re too selfless for your own good.” You pull on his arm and he allows you, lets you trail kisses up the smooth plate of his forearm. “Can try it now, though.”

His nod is sharp, firm enough to jostle the endcaps of his mane. “Yes, perhaps I would… enjoy that.”

You snicker, but don’t comment on the breathy tone his voice takes, already dysregulated from a single lick, don’t comment on how quickly he sits on the bed that he’d gotten for your sake nor the speed with which he releases the latches on his pelvic plate. Air rushes from his vents again, almost like a sigh as his cock bobs freely.

You might never get used to it, knowing that he made something so obscene just for you… The thrill of it- of all of him- rushes through you, makes your belly heat. But you set that aside for now, instead pushing the golden joints of his legs apart and lowering yourself down to your knees. Which only makes your growing desire ever worse.

Like this you’re so very, very aware of how big he is. Built for war, he dwarfs you in every way. Beside you, his thin, bird-like legs are almost up to your shoulder, just barely giving you enough room to comfortably lay your arms on his thighs. Looking up at him… He sits so stiffly, one hand curled into the previously pristine sheets, the other is curled across the lowest part of faceplate as though obscuring his mouth. Shy, maybe, you think. Would make sense- he doesn’t particularly enjoy receiving one-sided attention. So, you smile up at him, rub your hands soothingly across his canvas-covered thighs and hope that soothes him.

Finally, you let your eyes wander back down his body. Slowly, you ease your hands in from his legs until they brush the base of his cock, where the silicone meets his inner frame. Without any lubricant it’s a dry, sticking feeling, but it’s still enough for you to hear the hum of his fans pitch up in anticipation.

He’s been so patient, so nice to finally let you try this, so you only tease him a little more. You straighten up and stare up at his faceplace, hands moving firmly onto his cock as though you’re going to take him into your mouth immediately. He tenses, waits the sudden onslaught of your mouth around him-- and finds instead your soft lips laying against the smooth head, pressing a delicate kiss to the silicone. Ramattra’s legs twitch,, a little whiny noise coming from somewhere inside him-

And you lower your head down, dragging the tip of your tongue from the base of his cock all the way up. His ventilation kicks and a staticked gasp slips from his vocoder. With only the tip, not yet letting him feel the jewelry, you lick at him, you flick your tongue against the soft ridge at the head of his cock until you think you might break him.

Ramattra hisses your name, somewhere between a plea and a threat. Desire surges in your core again, but you think he's been patient enough. Slowly, deliberately letting him watch as you move- you open your mouth and ease his tip past your lips.

Immediately, Ramattra groans, both hands twisting into his sheets as he processes your warm, soft mouth on his cock. He's big enough that even just his tip makes your jaw twinge in annoyance, but you relax your muscles and urge him further in. His body bursts with heat, already struggling to keep up with the hot air that’s soaking his processors- but that's not quite the reaction you were expecting. So you press your tongue firmly against the underside of his tip- though you aren't sure if Ramattra's cock is particularly sensitive here too- and drag the piercing over the ridge.

A high-pitched noise spits from his vocoder, almost a yelp as his whole body flinches. You'd almost worry you hurt him, that the metal was too rough on the silicone, except for the rough, rolling gasp that comes after. For Ramattra it's a distinct feeling- your mouth all soft and inviting and one firm bead of resistance that pushes back against him, that emphasizes each stroke of your tongue along his cock. It's addicting, one tiny piece of metal in all of that plush flesh. His hand lifts- nearly burying itself in your hair unbidden, but he kills the impulse- tries desperately to be still for you.

You gently bob your head, working up to a slow rhythm. With each motion you keep your tongue moving, sweeping across the silicone. Each time you move down, you try to take in more of him, slowly inching his cock deeper until he's prodding at the back of your throat. The first touch makes you gag, your mouth tightening around him as spit floods your mouth- and Ramattra's hips jump, momentarily fucking you mouth- and he moans.

You clit throbs at the single rough thrust, at the absolutely musical noise from his speakers- his need completely betrayed with the strain on his synth, the first touches of static to his voice. A desperate whimper escapes you just knowing that you're the one making him feel like that and Ramattra sucks in air in turn, his fists curled so tightly you can hear his actuators whining.

Even just listening to his pleasure, knowing you’re the one causing it-- it's all too much. You take him in deep again, sucking his cock with purpose, but you slip one hand between your legs. Trying to keep your focus on him is nearly impossible when you can hardly think with how badly you need to be touched. You shove your pants down and the first touch on your clit is near ecstasy. Sucking his cock, hearing his appreciation alone has left you swollen and soaked, trembling with pleasure as you moan shamelessly around his cock. You circle your clit and shiver, the pace of your tongue on him stuttering-

And this time, Ramattra doesn’t stop the impulse. Ramattra's fingers curl into your hair. You expect him to push you down, that his self control is broken, that he'll fuck your throat and-

he pulls you up. Your scalp stings softly, but you can only mewl in confusion, in desire- how must you look to him? Your own spit covering his cock, eyes glazed over in lust, one hand working yourself with a desperation- and Ramattra catches your arm with his other hand. You whimper, a mindless plea of no, please don't stop- as he pulls again, draws you up, up off the floor-

And you think for a moment he's going to fuck you, to get you in his lap-

“Come here.” His voice is almost unintelligible, harsh with static. He doesn’t even let you comply, dragging your body onto the bed with him as he lays back. Your head spins, too clouded to understand what he wants- which is fine, because he moves you exactly how he's thinking. He pulls you on top of him, legs spread wide over his broad chest and then spins you around so you're looking at his cock again.

That's all the prompting you need. Still spit-slicked, you take him into your mouth again. The new angle is different, unusual- his cock arcs down towards your tongue, making it easier to take him deeper-- and making the press of your piercing into him all the more intense. Ramattra makes some noise behind you- and you would try to squeeze your hand beneath yourself to keep rubbing, but with your belly pressed to his, it’s too tight a fit. The metal of his chest would dig into your wrist too much. But your clit aches, too needy to be ignored. Desperate, you rut your hips against his chest, hoping to find any friction at all against his hard bands of armor-

And Ramattra's big hands land on your hips.

He pulls you back- back as far as he can without dislodging your mouth from his cock. You want to ask, can't seem to understand what he's doing- until each thumb slips between your legs. You moan softly, try to question what he’s doing, but if he hears you, he makes no response. Ramattra parts your folds, revealing your pussy. Warm air washes over your sex- another rush of his ventilation- and you whimper, twisting in his hands at the embarrassment of him looking at you so closely.

You don't expect the press of cool metal directly to your clit.

The temperature makes you jolt away from him, but his hands keep you still, keep your clit trapped right against his faceplate as Ramattra moans. All crackling and ruined, his voice is vibration right against your clit- and you finally understand. You bob your head again, determined to keep those noises coming from his synth.

You sink down on him, taking as much as you can. Ramattra purrs against your pussy, a low rumble that makes your hips twitch, rutting back against his face, your clit rubbing delightfully on the divot between his faceplate and jaw. It’s so primal, needy-- and Ramattra’s grasp on your hips shifts, pulling you towards him again, urging you to keep going. You’re so close already it’s hard to hold any rhythm, but he helps, pushing his mouth against you each time you come up on his cock- and each time your piercing catches the tip he moans, a bolt of static pleasure rumbling directly into your clit.

You can’t help it. You dig your nails into the coverings on his thighs, try desperately to focus on him, on making him cum- but the sound of him, the taste of his cock, and the incessant buzzing of his moans against your pussy are too much. Your rhythm breaks entirely as he pushes you over the edge. Your own noises are muffled, lost to the silicone in your throat. Metal hands keep your thighs spread as they twitch and try to close around him, forcing you to feel as he moans, praises you indistinctly through your orgasm- the words lost against the overwhelming feeling of the continued vibration of your clit.

You can’t think, the pleasure too sharp, too strong- you try to squirm away, to get any relief, but his grasp shifts, one arm now wrapped around your waist to keep you still. The other presses to the back of your head. His hips lift- and he as fucks your mouth desperately.

Ramattra moans, all static-garbled and needy, still rumbling against your pussy. And still you work your piercing against him, match his careful pace with hard licks of your tongue- and each panting, growing moan you can feel him getting closer, every Ah, ah, ah- buzzing harder into your clit as acute pain- a raw overstimulation that only builds into whimpering, twitching second wave that makes your whole body tremble in his hands-

And it’s your hips throat twitching around him again that makes him gasp- the rushed intake of air and firm press of his face against your pussy in a long, droning note as he overloads entirely. His hips thrust up into your mouth one more time before steam rushes from his vents, fills the room with hot air and every joint in his body goes lax.

For a long time you lay there, shivering and boneless. His arms are a pleasant, heavy weight across your back, a good counterpoint to the weak shudders your body gives from time to time. Your clit and throat ache, but it’s a monumental task to move yourself just enough to no longer be choking on his dick or have your over sensitive clit pressed to his firm metal. It takes three tries on your shaking arms before you can manage it.

You lay there, limp and much too tired to try to extricate yourself further from the heft of him. Instead, you close your eyes and enjoy the silence, letting your body relax and cool off until the soft harmony of Ramatta’s internals returns. First, the hum of his processors, then the fans of his ventilation resume, much quieter than they had been before- then his lights return. Positioned as you are, you don’t see his array’s lights, but you do watch as the indicator lights in his cock turn from a yellow- muddied by the purple tinting in the silicone- to green, to finally red.

Ramattra’s fingers twitch on your back, and you laugh slightly as he mimics clearing his throat. He gently lifts your hips and helps you roll off of him, but with a limp waving request of your hand, he then helps you to turn around and lean against his broad chest, half on top of him again.

If you had any energy left at all, you’d be embarrassed- or perhaps aroused again- at the sight of his faceplate; he’s soaked. Everything between his optics down to the tip of his chin is coated in your wetness.

And yet when he speaks, “I apologize I was… overly enthusiastic.” It’s all contrition. One hand touches the side of your neck, a silent voicing of fear of injury.

Instead, you press your face to his hand and he meets you halfway, stroking along your cheekbone with unspoken reverence. “But you liked it?” While his voice has been perfectly reset, yours is still rough, rasping from the strain on your throat.

“I…” He starts- and immediately his fans hum louder again. Your lips barely crack into a knowing smile before he admits it, “Yes. It was… enjoyable.”

“See, more than just aesthetics.” You say, melting onto his chest more, idly stroking at the long pistons mimicking collar bones.

“I suppose I have to agree. You can hardly see it to begin with.”

“Maybe you should give me a piercing you can see, then.” You say it offhanded, a little joke-

“What? I couldn’t.” Ramattra shoots back immediately, “I have no experience with that.”

And his rejection only makes the idea more appealing, more real. “No, wait, think about it! You could research how to do it and where. Your hands wouldn’t shake, you’d be able to center it better-- I bet you could even design it yourself…” You grin and look up at the dark slits for his optics, half pleading. “Come on, at least you’d be saving me money and a trip out.”

Ramattra’s hands on you stop moving, but he doesn’t pull away. So completely motionless, you know he’s processing it, mulling the idea over. “You… want me to pierce you?”

“Well. Yeah, I guess? I mean I like piercings and I think you’d do a good job… and…” You blush softly, finally averting your gaze from his as though this is somehow more intimate than sucking his cock until he overloaded and cumming on his face twice. “Maybe I kinda… like the idea of having jewelry that you made, that you put there…”

His design on your body. It’s not just intimate; it’s possessive. A silent, private mark of your relationship… If you weren’t not so thoroughly spent, it might bring another wave of heat between your legs. He must have come to the same conclusion, because something shudders in Ramattra’s chest.

“I see.” He says coolly, as though you don’t feel the streams of hot air that again slip from his vents. “Then, I will look into it.”

In all, it takes Ramattra three days. Three days before he’s guiding you into his workshop and lifting you up onto his desk. The thrill of how easily he picks you up- big hands cradling your rib cage as he sets you onto the metal surface- always makes you a little giddy. Even more so is the little purple velvet box that sits nearby. You reach for it-

And Ramattra snatches the box up with a tut, “No peeking.”

“Fine.” You sigh exaggeratedly, watching as he skims over the tools he’s acquired in the last half week. A bottle of antiseptic, forceps, a marker-- and your eyes wander to a small package of needles. Your stomach tightens a little just seeing them, so you look at him instead, distracting yourself as Ramattra finishes his preparations. “Where did you decide?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead gently putting one finger under your chin and turning your head away. His other hand drifts over your ear- and eventually catches the little flap in front of your ear canal between thumb and forefinger. “Here.” His hands abandon you, turning back to his tools and grabbing the marker. “It is called the tragus.”

You hum in acknowledgement, but otherwise keep still as he focuses on your ear. Carefully, methodically- Ramattra touches the tip of the marker to your skin.

He draws your chin back towards him, examining the dot he’s made from the front before retrieving and handing you a mirror. “This is… acceptable?” He prompts as you look at your reflection. You could almost laugh; the ink of the marker is perfectly centered- likely is, mathematically. You knew he’d be good at this.

“Yeah, it looks perfect.” You look at the mark a moment more, picturing jewelry in its spot. It is… a strange location. “Why’d you pick this one?”

Ramattra pauses, his turn towards his tools a little too intentional. “If you wish to remove it later, any scarring should not be too disruptive.”

Something tightens in your chest. You reach out to him, gently touch his forearm. His head only slightly turns back towards you, just enough for you to see the corner of one slit. “I’m not going anywhere.” You say it, squeeze his arm again and hope he’ll internalize it this time. His only response is a small hum, an acknowledgement of the words, if not their meaning. So, you redirect him. “Can I see the jewelry now?”

Again, Ramattra hesitates, but caves with a halting, “Yes, I suppose so.” He holds the box a second too long- so tiny in his big hands- but offering it to you.

You don’t even hide your ecstatic grin as you take it- too excited at the possibilities. His designs are always so sleek, but you don’t know what he would choose for you to wear. You crack open the box- and the first thing you recognize is the color. Purple- the exact shade as his accents, as his jaw. But it’s not just his paint- you hold the tiny box closer and squint. It’s almost an inverted teardrop shape, but not quite. There is a silver dot embedded in the lower half, the point that would be sharp is clipped, a notch taken out of the wider top… You look at it for a moment longer- and your excitement melts into something warmer, recognition.

“It’s your chest plate…” You murmur and reach for him again. Only the lower half is visible under his tan cowl, but Ramattra stands still, lets you lift the soft fabric to reveal his own inverted teardrop- the purple latch right in the center of his chest.

“There’s more…” His voice falters, rasping through a whisper, strained with the same feeling that’s twisting in your throat.

You look back to the jewelry, unsure how there could be more meaning lain into it- but you take it from the little velvet cushions that hold it in place- and understand. The back of it is green with tiny golden lines etched into it. A circuit board. You brow pinches for a moment, dragging a nail over the back- feeling the protective coating over the circuits. It’s too small, too clipped to be functional. Just decorative, symbolic?

“When I…” He starts and stops, stepping closer to you- laying one hand on the outside of your thigh. “When I installed…. that I also had to replace and redesign some chips that were in my hips for functionality. I… kept the originals.”

“This is… you?” You murmur, tracing the tiny golden threads again. An actual chip from his body… “Or, was part of you?”

Ramattra nods stiffly, watches as you examine the tiny thing. “It’s… acceptable?”

“Yeah.” You sniffle, “I love it, Rama…” then hurriedly put the jewelry back in its box and shove it back towards him. You rub at your watering eyes and force out a tight, “Hurry up and pierce me before I cry.”

Ramattra nods again, shifting easily into his practiced movements. He swaps your ear with antiseptic and dips the piercing into the bottle, laying it on a sheet to dry as he picks up his tools. You focus on his faceplate and stare up at him as he steps in front of you. He waits there a moment- soaks in your gaze before touching your chin and urging you to turn your head just as he had earlier.

You close your eyes, don’t look as he clamps the forceps down.

“Breathe.” His voice rumbles, so close to your ear. You shiver, but obey- taking in the cool air of his workspace, the scent of his oil, relax into the warm proximity of him-

And as you exhale he pierces you. Hot pain washes over the whole side of your head. You clench your teeth, try not to flinch as he moves quickly, replacing pieces with a smoothness that you should’ve expected from him.

“Good,” He praises, still low and quiet and so close to you- and finally he pushes his design into the backing.

Ramattra steps away, but you grab at him- hands landing on the silver handles at his hips. He stops, turns towards you- and the tears you’d managed to suppress before being stabbed boil over.

“Does it hurt? I-”

You’re crying before you can even wrap your arms around him.And realizing you’re crying into his cowl- your face pressed right up against the exact plate he used as a design makes you weep harder. But he steps right up against the table and shushes you, strokes your back with an affection no one else has even seen in him.

“I love you,” You manage between shoulder-racking sobs- and something inside Ramattra shudders.

So quickly he adjusts, no longer holding you to his broad chest, but near doubling over, half lifting you off the table to press his faceplate into your shoulder. He buries himself in the warmth of your body- and shudders again as your grasp scrabbles over his back, no longer cinched around his tiny waist, but sliding up under his cowl, grabbing at the long bars of armor and holding yourself up against him.

“I love you so much,” You murmur to him, half broken by sniffles- and he squeezes your ribs in turn.

[tentakelspektakel]

Can't wait for the next part aaaa!!!

RAHHHHH the rammatra fic outta nowhere had me going ʕʘ‿ʘʔ

(Tbh I think he and genji were my gateway drug to robots)

Absolutely scrumptious as always

Anti-Gravity Pt 2

Ramattra x Reader

• Ankle screaming when you put weight on it, you use the length of rebar like a cane to pick your way closer to the pinned Omnic. He still has one good arm, so you’ll need to be quick. Drive that rebar deep as you can, through that baleful optic and out the other side. Omnic aren’t people, they’re not alive, just a clever impersonation of it. Except. You remember months ago, getting caught on the outskirts of a mob running down a lone Omnic. Watching them pull it to the ground, but doing nothing to stop them. It wasn’t your problem, you just wanted to go home. But it hadn’t begged or pleaded with its attackers. All it had said while it still could speak was that it was ‘seen in the light of the Iris.’ Like it believed it was more than just a machine. Raising the rebar, you stare down at it. Him, Ramattra. A machine. Just a machine.

• Servos curling in a fist, he tiredly watches the human poised to attack him. One side of your face smeared with blood from a sluggishly bleeding wound at your temple. Baring your teeth at him, rocking forward, but faltering. And your hands are shaking as you make to lunge and then stop yourself again. Finally meeting his optics. “You’re a monster,”you tell him, voice tired as you slump down on a pile of rubble nearby. Above the two of you something shifts and dirt patters down. He understands that hate in your eyes, but your mercy takes him by surprise. “You deserve to die,” you add, voice angry now. At him or yourself?

• “If I’m a monster, it’s because your kind gave me no choice,” that low, digitized voice growls as he tries to drag himself more upright before giving up. Head tipping back to stare at the rubble above them and you follow his stare even as his words whisper through you. Make you think of that Omnic dying for no reason at all, torn apart by that mob. What had it even done? Just been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Dared to exist?

• Growling softly, he knows that if they start messing with the debris above, it’s likely to come down and your mercy will mean very little when you’re both crushed. “There’s always a choice,” you counter, rolling up your pant leg to gingerly prod at your ankle and he watches your little shoulders hunch. From above, there’s another shower of dirt and rocks, the drip of water becoming a steady stream from a busted pipe.

• You’re afraid to take off your sneaker and see how bad it really is. Afraid you won’t be able to get the show back on if you do. The only thing you’re certain of it’s that you can’t stay here. You’re not sure if you’re in the sewer or in some kind of maintenance tunnel, but you don’t want it to become your tomb.

• “Your naïveté will get you killed,” he growls, watching you turn your attention back to him. To his trapped leg. While you can still walk, he can’t. Not alone. Doesn’t have the energy to swap back to nemesis form to try and free himself, too damaged to risk it. Ignoring you since you’re apparently not going to try and end him right this moment, he tries to free his pinned lower leg. Tensing when you limp over and drive that rebar under the broken wall crushing him and pushing down on it like a fulcrum. Too small to budge it at all, but still trying. Above them something creaks and scrapes. How long? Minutes or hours? And he follows your attention when it drifts toward the dark tunnel. “You can’t see in the dark, but I can. Find something sharp. Metal.”

• You stare at him, attention drifting back to his lower leg. Knowing you’re not going to get him free in time, but he’s right. It’s pitch deeper in and the only light is coming through the shifting rubble. You’ll never find a way out without him. Limping sends jagged shards of pain through your leg and knee, but you find something useable and carry it over. Feeling oddly squeamish as he positions it against the joint of his knee and you realize what he wants. Just a machine, you remind yourself as he tries to saw at the joint, making a low, snarling sound of very real pain. And you grab the sides of the metal fragment and drive it down. Again and again, feeling the edges biting into your palm. It takes both of you to sever the lower half of his leg and your palms are cut up and sticky with blood as you offer him a hand. “You’re still a monster,” you tell him as he lurches unsteadily upright with only one leg and one arm. Skin crawling as he leans on you and nearly knocks you both down with his weight. He’s silent as you grit your teeth and start moving, letting him use you for balance. Because even if he’s a monster, he doesn’t deserve to die like this. No one does.

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