Transformers Imagines

Bad Case of Loving Me - Ratchet X Reader (smut)

You’re the newest recruit to Team Prime. Your medical knowledge has been put to use in the field multiple times over the last few Earth months, but spending time in the lab with a certain doctor has been the best part of it all.

Ratchet, you learned, doesn’t flirt with anybody. He rarely smiles. Of course, when Arcee told this to you, you found it extremely surprising. Ratchet always flirts with you. He always seems to smile at you.

“You know,” Acree had smirked, “I think Ratchet’s in love with you.”

And of course you had denied that. Because, why would Ratchet be in love with a femme like you?

But now, as Ratchet presses you to the counter of the lab, his lips against yours, you start to think Arcee had been right. You kiss him back, and he lifts you onto the counter with his huge arms, deepening the kiss.

Eventually, he pulls back.

“I love you,” he says, looking into your optics.

Yep, Arcee had been right after all.

“Well, doctor,” you smirk. “it seems, then, that you have a bad case of loving me.”

Ratchet chuckles lightly. “(Y/N), that is the cheesiest thing I have ever beheld,” he says. “Plus, it’s not a bad case, necessarily…”

You smile, then kiss him again, his servos coming to rest on your hips and your own servos exploring Ratchet’s chest plates. He moans against your lips at the action, making you smirk with satisfaction.

You slide the sensitive metal of your valve panel against Ratchet’s spike panel, making him squeeze your hips tightly. “Frag,” he mumbles. This make out session just took a hot turn.

He kisses you again,  a little rougher this time, making you moan at the intensity of it. He presses against you with hot passion, chests and panels sliding against each other in a pleasure racking way.

“Primus, Ratchet. I- I need you right now,” you say.

“Anything, dear,” he breathes.

You slide back your valve panel, and Ratchet presses teasing fingers to the rim of it, making a sharp gasp escape your lips. “Frag!”

“You’re dripping, sweetspark,“ he says lowly.

“Yes,” you say, looking into his optics. “For you.”

"Primus,“ he breathes.

Ratchet finally slides his spike panel back, and you feel the tip of it at the opening of your valve. "Ratchet, please-”

The medic doesn’t delay any further. He thrusts into you, and you are unable to mute your vocaliser before you scream. Ratchet’s engines rev loudly.

He continues thrusting at a steady pace, you muffling screams in his shoulder, your servos raking down his back plating.

You feel your overload on the rise, building up with every thrust of Ratchet’s spike.

"I-I’m going to overload, Ratchet,“ you gasp.

"Me t-too, honey.”

Ratchet pushes into you a final time, then pulls out just as overloads wash over the both of you. You pant, exhausted, and Ratchet presses a lazy kiss to your forehead.

No amount of sanitizing can wipe the sin off this counter.

"I love you so much, (Y/N).“

"Me too, Ratch.”

You feel super tired after such great interfacing, and because it’s midnight, and Ratchet sees your exhaustion. He picks you up, carrying you to his berth.

Entangled in Ratchet’s arms, you fall into a love-filled recharge.