Mama Miyamoto's Spaghetti in a Bucket

Tokusatsu: I already have a post about this, and it's pretty long, and I'm just going to keep maintaining that instead of reposting everything here. Suffice it to say if it's Kamen Rider, Super Sentai, Ultraman, or Garo, then I am very likely your girl. (I've also watched shows that aren't in any of those franchises, but they're the bulk of it.) Do note, though, that I won't write for a show until I've seen at least half of it.

Danmei: My current grand passion! I mostly read danmei with wuxia/xianxia settings, because I love martial arts and fantasy stories, but eventually I'll branch out. However, I will not write for a novel that I haven't finished reading, because I prefer to know the entire story before digging tooth and nail into writing more for it. Currently I can/will write for:

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation/Módào Zǔshī, Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù

The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System/Rén Zhā Fǎnpài Zìjiù Xìtǒng, Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù

Heaven Official's Blessing/Tiān Guān Cì Fú, Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù

Thousand Autumns/Qian Qiu, Meng Xi Shi

Lord Seventh/Qi Ye, priest

Faraway Wanderers/Tiān Yá Kè, priest

The Disabled Tyrant's Beloved Pet Fish/Canji Baojun de Zhangxin Yu Chong, Xue Shan Fei Hu

Currently I'm reading Peerless, and I have a TBR list of probably unhealthy length; if you're curious whether I'm planning on reading anything particular, the answer is probably yes, but feel free to ask me anyway. Hell, maybe I haven't heard of it yet, I love getting book recs.

Dramas: Some of these are based on novels which I've also read, or am reading! But obviously they have their continuity differences.

The Untamed

Word of Honor

Til the End of the Moon

Love Between Fairy and Devil

Mysterious Lotus Casebook

Meet You at the Blossom

KinnPorsche

Oh, it's been happening the whole time, of course. One of the most humiliating aspects of this whole fiasco has been knowing that as absurd as he may look sticking out into the corridor, the absurdity is certainly doubled on the other side of the wall, his aft dangling there in the most undignified position possible as mechs brush past him in their attempts to go about their business. He can hear them talking as they go by, although the wall's a bit too thick to be able to tell what they're saying. Once or twice someone's bumped into one of his feet or legs, but there hasn't really been any notable contact. He assumes orders have been given to treat him like he's simply not there.

Until now, because someone has stepped right up and is—there's no better word for it—groping him, running their claws over his aft and then down between his legs.

"Excuse me," he says, going stiff and looking back over his shoulder as if this'll give him any kind of information. It doesn't, of course. All he sees is wall.

Steve's head tilts to one side. "Are you all right, sir?"

Whoever's touching him doesn't stop. He kicks the leg he can move, but it doesn't make contact except to brush against the—probably side of whoever it is. "Someone is—what is on the other side of this wall, Steve? I'm drawing a blank on the—hhh." The hands are still on him, clawtips now wiggling ticklishly into various seams as if they're trying to find something. "The layout of the ship."

Steve somehow manages to convey a puzzled expression despite not really having a face. "Vehicon barracks, sir."

"Oh, of course."

"Would you like to finish fueling, sir?"

"I'd like you to tell whoever's on the other side of this wall to keep their hands to themsehahhh."

What the fingers were searching for was apparently the manual release catch for his modesty panel, which they've now found, pressing into the joint of his right leg and causing the panel to snap open. And—he hasn't exactly been playing the grieving widow since Breakdown's death, but it has been long enough that his frame, independent of him, decides that this means it's time to play, so the secondary protective cover over his valve also snaps open, a few seconds later.

"Sir?"

Knock Out tries to reply but can't quite manage more than a vague noise, ninety percent of his attention drawn to the sensation of—of some random Vehicon tracing around the outside edge of his valve with careful clawtips. There's a moment where the contact stops, during which he successfully says, "Steve, I," and then loses all coherence again when the smooth, flat surface of two claws press up against his node and start stroking.

He moans helplessly as his fans turn on, staring up at Steve with what's probably an embarrassingly pathetic expression on his face.

Steve's visor flickers. After a beat he says, "Oh," and dissipates the cube with its last few drops of energon. On the other side of the wall, the other Vehicon continues to play with Knock Out's node, and Knock Out moans again, feeling the lubricant production in his valve start up as his charge begins to build. This one is much louder; it echoes alarmingly in the room.

Steve's saying something else. He didn't process it. He looks up, feeling dizzy, and says, "What?"

"That was very loud, sir." Steve doesn't exactly sound like he's scolding, but it's close.

Knock Out rolls his optics, although the gesture's probably somewhat lessened by the fact that they keep flickering. "Listen, you try to be quiet whennnnnn."

"I can help."

"I'm, ah, I'm sorry?"

"I'll help you stay quiet, sir." Steve steps up much, much closer to him. "Open up."

Knock Out shudders, jaw dropping open, and Steve wraps a hand around the back of his head and pressurizes directly into Knock Out's mouth.

A few minutes later, when Knock Out's on the verge of overload, the hand on his node pulls away, and he almost yells in protest except that, of course, his mouth is occupied, so all he manages to do is let out a muffled groan around Steve's spike, and then another one when whoever's on the other side of the wall shoves their spike directly into his now-dripping valve. It's a decent size, at least, from what he can tell by the feel of it. Whatever anonymous Vehicon is now fragging him wraps a hand around his dangling right leg to hold it up, their other hand pressed against the exposed portion of his left thigh, and after a moment the thumb of that hand traces down to once more press against—

He overloads shortly after that with an embarrassing mouth-stopped cry, optics rolling back in his head and then briefly shutting off as excess charge crackles out along the wall he's still trapped in. Not that either Steve or the other one stop what they're doing—no, they continue fragging him through the whole thing, apparently indifferent to his physical reactions.

Steve overloads a moment later, hands tightening on the sides of Knock Out's head and pulling his face in to spill transfluid down his intake, very nearly bypassing his mouth entirely. Knock Out sputters with dazed, charge-drunk outrage as he pulls out and steps away, and then jumps, or would have jumped if he could move that much, at the revelation that at some point another Vehicon came in and has been just…waiting there, spike already pressurized, to move right into the spot Steve vacated and take over the job of keeping Knock Out's mouth occupied.

This one is much rougher about it, keeping a hard grip on Knock Out's head fins, hips pistoning against his face. Knock Out wants to complain, but between his mouth still being full and the not-much-abated charge filling his whole body he simply doesn't have the presence of mind.

The Vehicon on the other side of the wall overloads in his valve. He's granted a moment's reprieve as they pull out, but then there's the sense of bodies passing each other within a filing of his leg and someone else is already there, grabbing onto his hip plating and sliding in aided by the first mech's leavings. Somehow this one is nearly in sync with the one in front of him, both of them thrusting in at the same time almost every time so that he's unbearably full and then achingly empty over and over and over again.

He lets out a pathetic whimper around the spike in his mouth and overloads again, and the Vehicon in front of him pulls out and splatters his face with transfluid.

There is, of course, another one waiting behind that one.

He's not sure how long, or how many, it's been, when a shadow falls over him that's distinctly not a Vehicon. He looks up, hazy, and sees Soundwave towering over him, looking down. Optics meet faceless screen, and Soundwave plays a clip of Megatron's voice, "Just make sure he isn't dead, I may require him again later."

Knock Out stares up at him with unfocused optics, says, "Not dead yet," and leaves his mouth hanging open, exhausted, as someone's fingers slide into his valve.

Soundwave tilts his head to one side curiously and plays a clip of Knock Out's own voice saying, "Awfully pretty," before shoving one of those oversized cables of his down Knock Out's throat and prodding with the other at one of Knock Out's data ports, which Knock Out opens with a shudder.

The thing is, Knock Out has top-of-the-line firewalls, he hasn't had unprotected sex in centuries, but there's top-of-the-line firewalls and then there's Soundwave, who tears through them in a calm way that Knock Out probably shouldn't find attractive and immediately sends him a video clip of himself timestamped from just a few minutes ago, whining desperately as a Vehicon pumps more transfluid down his intake. There are tally marks scratched onto the wall next to him, more than he can easily count with Soundwave overwhelming his processor with junk data and a new spike shoving into his valve on the other side of the wall. He does his best to suck on the cable in his mouth and is rewarded with a series of still images—Vehicons on shift with traces of red paint still on their thighs, the seemingly-enormous number of tally marks on the barracks wall next to his hip, his overused valve held open by one black claw and dripping transfluid.

Soundwave floods his system with simulated sensory input and he overloads for the nth time, a wail stifled by the cable he's sucking on. That cable leaves his mouth as he's still shaking, the other one disconnecting from his data port, and the voice clip this time is Megatron again, "Excellent work, Knock Out."

He barely has time to try to figure out if Soundwave actually got anything out of the whole situation before the next Vehicon steps up.

There are a few periods of reprieve, moments where Knock Out can sag, no longer mindful of the state of his plating, and take the strain off of his armature and joints. He's not sure how much time is passing; with so much charge both generated and dumped into him, a significant number of his less-important systems are on the blink, including his chronometer. At some point Steve comes by with more energon and for another round, which is nice since he's at least gentler than the other Vehicons, who mostly tend to be unsurprisingly aggressive about things.

"How fortunate for you, to have found your true calling in life."

Knock Out looks up sharply and feels his optics widen. "Starscream. When did you get back?"

Starscream grins, not looking up from filing the tips of his claws—he's sprawled quite comfortably in a chair that he apparently dragged over solely for the purpose of having a more comfortable spot from which to observe. "Around the same time you ended up here, I believe." He brushes metal filings off his hand and onto the floor. "And look at you, providing a valuable service for once. Primus knows the Vehicons need a way to work off excess energy."

Knock Out rolls his optics. "And I suppose you're here for a turn?"

"What? No." Starscream snorts. "I don't interface with ground models."

"Oh, jump in a smelting pit."

Starscream opens his mouth for a no-doubt snippy reply and then, unexpectedly, closes it again and sits up very straight. Knock Out almost mocks him for it and then realizes that he's listening to something—something that Knock Out can hear as well.

From the other side of the wall comes the unmistakable rumble of Megatron's voice.

Knock Out goes very still. Starscream, on the other hand, looks delighted, and after a moment gets up and drags his chair over closer, so that now he's sitting right next to Knock Out as if they're just having a pleasant off-shift chat. "Ah, I see it's time for the main event."

A very, very large hand comes to rest on Knock Out's thigh. Unexpectedly, it isn't grabbing; no, Megatron almost seems to be petting him, stroking gently, even as the thumb of his other hand slides into Knock Out's valve and pulls it open.

"You should kick a little bit," Starscream says, in the tones of someone offering a good friend some helpful advice, "he likes a reasonable amount of spirit."

Knock Out tries to swear at him and…can't, quite. He doesn't try to kick, not exactly, but his more-mobile leg does twitch spasmodically as something unreasonably large nudges up against the entrance of his valve. He in-vents sharply. "That's, ah. That's."

"Big? Yes, very."

Starscream pats Knock Out's cheek, pulls his hand back with a dismayed expression, hurriedly cleans it off with a polishing cloth from his subspace, and instead chooses to stroke one of Knock Out's head fins mock-comfortingly as Knock Out frantically runs through a series of medically inadvisable internal micro-transformations that he hasn't needed in quite some time. The pressure is abruply eased as the sequence completes, the strain on his already-tired calipers at least somewhat reduced, which unexpectedly earns him another encouraging pat on the leg—and then a sudden, harder thrust, Megatron hilting himself in one go as, on the other side of the wall from him, Knock Out lets out a cry that doesn't end as much as it trails off into a series of smaller, higher-pitched noises that he couldn't stop even if he tried.

Next to him, Starscream looks fascinated. "You're taking it much better than I did the first time." His hand is still stroking Knock Out's head, and that also feels dizzyingly good in this context. "Very impressive, especially given that you're not exactly in a position to be as, hm, participatory as I was. You really are suited to this."

Knock Out tries to say something scathing about what Starscream might or might not be suited for, but can't manage it—his vocal language processing's shorted out, the pathetic little whimpers that won't stop coming out of his mouth are all the noise he can make. He can't move the back half of himself much, but he tries to push back anyway, desperate for movement, for more, trying to rub his node against the textured base of Megatron's spike housing, the leg he can move trying to wrap around Megatron's waist to pull him in closer.

Starscream's still talking. "We really should keep you like this permanently and I can send Megatron to visit you whenever he starts feeling especially difficult, I think it'll make him much more agreeable."

Megatron reaches down between Knock Out's legs and pinches his node, massive spike still moving at a steady pace inside him, and Knock Out overloads so hard that he goes into a full system reboot.

--

Eventually Megatron does order him cut out of the wall.