If Prime isn’t on the battlefield for any reason Megatron at least knows he’ll get a worthy fight if you're there. It's also tantamount to accepting failure on a mission if he allows you to operate freely on the battlefield unchecked. He knows only Soundwave or himself stands a proper chance of infringing on your objectives in a fight. Simultaneously irksome and exhilarating, the fact that you're such a capable warrior. A mech of few words that knows what they want. And that’s to snuff his spark. He's more than once attempt to play into your good graces- with words and promises. It was always futile. He'd offered to once give you anything you'd wanted if you joined The Decepticons. You'd asked "anything?" To which Megatron assured.

You'd then proceeded to ask him to die for you before rushing him yet again. He can't help but admire the pragmatism.

It reminds him of the arena- the pit. But more akin to his earlier years. When he was still finding his strive. Having to stay on guard, lest he be killed by one misjudgment on an attack aimed right for him. The brutality of your strikes. The way you come after him with the sole intention of killing him. It's not one he faces very often with Prime. No... you're a warrior through and through. You're ruthless. Especially so for an Autobot. But the ruthless core of your actions is simply a by product of your cold disposition. A detached indifference to the energon you spill, and the damage you deem necessary to inflict on another mech. Truly, a one mech army. A commendable opponent and one well deserving of his time.

Your looks are simply another discrepancy to your lethality. Most bots who are that up on their own up keep, tended to be vain. Not willing to risk serious damage to their frame (like Knock-out). But instead they simply sat as an accessory to your status as a fighter. He'd taken note of it the first time you'd fought- it had lead to his downfall when he'd made the very lethal mistake of underestimating you. Megatron has entertained the thought of his victory over you. Of beating you truly and claiming you utterly and thoroughly. Occasionally envisioning Prime there having to watch what he does to one of his mechs. Or even desecrating you as completely as possible. Breaking your modesty panel off of you, leaving his trace on every plate of yours, and discarding your battered and used frame for Prime to find.

There were certainly a prime number of choices- ones Megatron had zero qualms in indulging. And none he wouldn't hesitate to put into practice when he finally bests you.

Call Starscream every name In the book! He knows not to take chances with you around. And he doesn’t feel bad about being insulted over his rightful caution. Especially not when Decepticons that didn’t take the same cautions, were woefully unprepared for the damn force of nature you were on the battlefield. Most either being injured badly enough to know to never make the same mistake again. Or they certainly never would, because you’d deactivated them and didn’t allow them the second chance to begin with. He will retreat as quickly as possible considering whatever circumstances he finds himself in with you in proximity to him. No! He does not squeal when you show up out of seemingly nowhere- Knock-out! He's simply- surprised you are as well- covert as you were. That's all!

He'll fight you if he has to of course. (When turning his back on you was much more dangerous than facing you helm on.) He feels like he's been forced into a spar with Megatron! He's on his heels and doing his damnedest just to survive. You don't even dignify him with hello- or "stop right there con-!" No, nothing! He can't fluster you into giving him even a micro fraction of leeway. You still have that cold detached expression on your faceplate regardless of what he says. The only thing he has if you pin him, is utterly and completely groveling and begging. Pleading for mercy is the only thing that gives you slight hesitancy in just outright killing him. And it is groveling on a level that Starscream barely ever even employs with Megatron. His optics might be leaking coolant. Though you always leave him alive when he refuses to fight you back- you also always brutalize him. You without fail sever his connection to his own wings. A fate he's had to multiple times suffer the long repair of. (The fragging agony of-!). A servo full of times was more than enough for an entire function for Starscream!

And yes there is some rather telling... discrepancy between your looks and your lethality. But attractive faceplate and frame aside- any mech has the capability of being lethal. He's attempted to praise you for said looks to appease you (to no avail). And perhaps- perhaps mind you, Starscream occasionally... reflects in a more perverse manner. His thoughts tend to drift towards servitude. Not to you! No- no-! Of you to him. Of you seeing the error of your Autobot thinking and simply- pledging your loyalty to him. Swearing servitude to him. On your knees and servos willing to do anything to please him. Having a mech such as yourself to his beck and call, only concerned with anything you could do to satisfy his ideals, his plans, his needs. To have such a powerful bot readily following his every command. It is quite the... thrilling fantasy to indulge in.

It's not something Starscream ever entertains seriously- only on very lonely charge heavy nights. Because surly there was no chance you'd never have an epiphany of such a drastic sort. But there's no harm in a mech having ideals... now is there?

He sees you sometimes before he even hears you. Which is a fact in it of itself to how dangerous you were. Soundwave didn't know how you did it. You were just as cybertronian as the rest of them. Yet it was hard to hear your mass- even the ever light sound of your plating shifting. Even after this long at war he still has trouble pin pointing your exact location, before you deliberately make yourself known. Full sneak attacks are only something he ever has to worry about because of your existence. The reason he'll stay on his pedes outside of The Nemesis when you could be anywhere. There aren't many who can match him on the field. There were even less who could actively make Soundwave work as physically hard as you do.

There's a bit of a thrill to it all, having a competent opponent. It is a minuscule amount of enjoyment mind you. The only reason he leaves The Nemesis is when he has a mission. Mission that you have no problem or hesitancy in blocking or even destroying his progress on. You are the biggest problem above Optimus Prime himself. Simply because Optimus Prime will focus on Megatron if he has to choose between him or Soundwave. While you will make the effort to fight both of them simultaneously to keep either one of them from leaving your focus. It's the closest he's come to seeing you fighting up hill. But you still never allow either of them to inflict lethal damage onto you. A small part of himself has vowed to beat you. He does note he has the least amount of audio recordings of your vocalizor saved out of any of the Autobots. Even less than your medic. He doesn’t know why that very fact irks him.

The fact that you're a rather attractive bot hasn't been one he's paid too much attention to. For the first couple of decades you've been an enemy to The Decepticons anyway. The longer you proven yourself a problem- the longer you prove yourself a major player in the war; the more noticeable the fact becomes. At this stage of the war on earth, Soundwave has more than once (on his down time and privacy), envisioned a proper victory over you. Since it's fantasy and no more he let's himself indulge on not immediately killing you. Instead holding you down with his servos and body weight, before using his prehensile cables to explore over your frame. Explore your array too. Making a point to use the recordings of your own allies voices to splice some choice mockery; Over the state you've become.

Fantasy is fantasy. Soundwave knows and he knows he wouldn't hesitate to properly take care of you if he ever had the opportunity to deactivate you... surely he would.

There's bots she knows she should be wary of and bots Airachnid knows she needs to be very prepared for if she's going to cross them. You fit slotted perfectly in the latter category. You were merciless, unforgiving, and determined... A mech after her own spark. Troublesome that you were cross faction from one another. She finds she'd more than likely enjoy your interactions if you'd both bore the same badge- at a point in time anyway. What with her solo work. But wistful and rather pointless daydreaming aside- she has a strut to pick with you. As do you her, though you seem to treat any enemy with the exact level of violence you deem necessary. Oh, it is a marvel to watch you work through mechs. Less so being the one on the receiving end of your icy glare. But she was a hard bot to pin down.

She rather finds herself growing frustrated when you utterly and truly do not seem too emotional invested in much of anything. Though the ferocity in which you attack shows anything but. Which in turn only annoys her further, the longer she begins to even consider the very notion that you'd find her not worth your emotions. But you care. Oh, you care. About your team mates. She's seen the look in your optics when you'd last rescued Arcee right before Airachnid could sink her claws into her spark chamber. Your expression much the same as always, but the look in your optics was ferocious. Like a beast more than a mech staring her down and daring her to run so you can give chase. She finds herself having to make solutions on the very spot lest she actually be captured and slaughtered for sport. It's a touch exhilarating- a pain absolutely. But the rush she gets when she realizes she'd gotten away from you. Oh, it is delicious.

She's used to being the hunter, not the hunted. Oh, but you? You're no prey. You're a predator. She might even say apex if she was feeling so generous. Something she laments when you've clearly got such a lovely "coat". The things she could do to you. The things she would do to you given the proper chance. She'd play with you. And she would thoroughly enjoy her time pulling you apart plate- by plate. How you'd squirm. How you'd gasp. How you'd groan. How you'd beg. She would indulge but she wouldn't kill you however. No, you were a prize fair enough and a tribulation great enough- she'd keep you. As her personal pet. You should feel honored, truly. A title in her vorns of function she's only ever entertained bestowing Arcee. She'd keep both of you as her lap cyberhounds if she was ever given the opportunity to do so. Airachnid has-… practice breaking new projects in. She would just positively adore breaking her two personal pet projects in.

Details- and options. So so many options on how she could play with you if you did end up in her claws. Till then she can make note of her ideals as a diligent reminder.

Knock Out utterly despises you. Yes, dangerous, a menace in a fight. With a cold calculated nature that’s much more in tune with a hardened Con than any soft sparked Autobot. (And soft sparked you were anything but.) And most of all Knock out cannot forgive the outrageous fact that you look that good while doing all of it. Knock out likes to play with his food but you tend not to dally in any way. Strikes and coming after them (himself included) as soon as you’d gotten the opportunity to make yourself a problem for them. Cold and to the point, no affection for talking or some good fashioned banter. Gaze sharp and not even dignifying any of them with a proper emotional reaction. As if Knock out wasn’t worth the effort to give him anything other than that cold calculated gaze of yours.

It infuriated Knock out more than he’d let anyone know.

But petty spite and hang ups aside Knock out was still a medic. One of the best The Decepticons had to offer, clearly. And certainly no slouch in a fight or with his energon prod. But a medic none the less. He was far from a push over in a fight. But Knock out wasn’t delusional enough to think he’d be able to take you down with anything other than luck and a very good shot. He’s seen you get into it with Megatron himself. Megatron actually gets excited when he sees you in a fight. That is an automatic "No thank you" from him. So he delegates himself to not sticking around when and if you make yourself known in a fight. Because you weren’t worth the helm ache and the utterly egregious amount of damage you can and will deliver upon him given the opportunity.

Though Knock out was an opportunist. And even he couldn't deny exactly how fetching your frame and chassis were, aesthetically anyway. He's not exactly shy in his admiring. You don't exactly seem to mind, and if you did you haven't made a point to say anything about it. (Or increase the already present brutality in your actions.) He does fantasize about getting a hold of you. Maybe after Megatron got a lucky shot. Or some other extremity that allowed your capture. Regardless, you end up in Knock out’s grasp either way. And he would thoroughly take his up most care in positively ruining your paint job. Both in salacious ways and also maybe in more sadistic methods of indulgence. Finishing his work off with carving "Knock out was here" with a claw either on your inner thigh or directly above your modesty panel.

Knock-out positively adored breaking things up and taking them apart. Even more so when he breaks something pretty and handsome all at the same time. How invigorating it is to watch premium bots fall oh so very low...

It’s the drum of the fight that keeps Breakdown going when the energon starts spilling like a broken undercarriage, more often than not. He keeps going, he keeps fighting, he survives. And he counts his deeds and his damages after every fight. To keep himself ready for the inevitable next. But all the prep in the sparkdamn world, still wouldn’t make him feel like he’s ever actually ready to go pede to pede with you on the battlefield. But slag rarely ever cared if you actually were ready or not to fight for your fragging survival in war. So Breakdown grits his denta and does his damnedest to not get turned into scrap, when you decide to clash with him. Breakdown wasn’t a rookie, he was a wrecker for frags sake. He's been a front liner long after that. So he knew a thing or two about fighting and his way around a war zone.

And despite that all Breakdown still feels like he’s treading water to stay functional whenever your cold optics lock onto him. Your demeanor compared to your frame might be jarring to some- well, he knows better. Especially when he’s worked with Knock out for however many vorns and seen how sadistic the medic can be when he wants to. That an attractive frame didn’t mean slag about the bot actually strutting around in it- Airachnid is another example of the same fragging thing. Sure, it’s a bit of a trip up seeing how good you can look practically slathered in energon. And your weapon still brandished promising to add to the amount you were already drenched in. But Breakdown isn’t dumb enough to let it distract him when those optics of yours are trained right on him.

In terms of fantasy- okay maybe maybe Breakdown lets himself indulge in a little bit of his imagination when he actually has the time to treat himself. How that frame of yours might look even better underneath his own. Him actually managing to break that cold expression always on your faceplate with how he uses you. He thinks you'd look sweet with that cold look fragged out of you. Or maybe your weapon underneath his own chin. And you ordering him on his knees in the middle of a battlefield with only the two of you left on it. But again Breakdown isn’t fragging stupid enough to let them be anything other than late night fantasies. You’ll just be his... dirty little self service secret. It's also why he keeps his mouth shut when he hears Knock out growl "Oh, the things I would do to them-!" Under his vents after a class with you.

Breakdown can deal with his attraction to Airachnid or any other con just fine. But… you were the sinfully sweet thing caught underneath his armor he didn't have a problem keeping hidden (for himself only anyway.)

There are many opponents Dreadwing has heard the tale of through the Decepticon ranks. The Prime himself the most exalted and hated- scorned. For what he is. For what he represents. For what he is not. But you? You were spoken of with fear. Tales from bots seemingly haunted by the mere encounter. Tales from those bragging about having simply survived crossing paths with you. The ones most taken by fear would speak quickly and in a panic, hushed words. As if you were some fictional pit spawn. (And not a real tangible enemy, any of them may face.) As if somehow you would hear the words your enemies spoke of you. As if you would hear the hearsay spoke within the ranks from wherever you presently were; and hunt them down yourself for the mere transgression of slander. He always scoffed at the notion- tales were tales for a reason. They were built on speculation and emotion- and in this case gossip.

Though be that as it may, Dreadwing would have done well to heed the many warnings told to him time and time again. He may have been at least a fraction more prepared. When he had learned that monsters from tales are typically inspired by the horrors of reality. You'd almost killed him- he was woefully unprepared and had even underestimated you; when he had seen with his own optics that you were a real mech. Not a ounce of pity or even scorn on your faceplate when your were halfway through ripping his spark out. Covered in his and other troops energon. He was only saved when your attention was driven elsewhere- when Megatron had gotten a hold of your ally. You abandoned him immediately to rescue them. Dreadwing learned well enough never to allow his guard to drop around you, lest he be killed on the spot. A frightful opponent and one well deserving of the tales spun of them.

Your... appearance he will admit rather shamefully was a part of the reason he had underestimated you as much as he had. Yes, you were clearly capable- with the energon you had spilled and the weapon you brandished unflinching at him. But there was a particular... credence to a way warriors had a tendency to look. A mold you did not entirely fit- a bot he would believe he would have seen on an advertisement when Cybertron was still populated and functional to a degree. Maybe a film. Not one he would be actively struggling not to perish to. With a faceplate that is something even he would- in the privacy of his thoughts- admit to finding... attractive. The ferocity and danger of your being only seemed to accentuate your beauty. A plague on his thoughts off the battlefield. And on it when he has a particularly close encounter with you. He does not indulge too much- (you were a filthy Autobot after all!) But even Dreadwing can't help his thoughts wandering when he self services to take the edge off. Your derma, the shape of your frame, that sharp cutting gaze of yours. Your very being a bewitching, perilous, and handsome call.

The very fatal attraction that Dreadwing simply cannot seem to shake in his more heated lunar cycles of privacy. It threatens to haunt him and cause his own demise.

There are a multitude of bots who need to be kept on high surveillance on the battlefield and off the battlefield. Powerful figures who can turn the tides of battle, and who are to be treated with caution. Mechs who are of high interest and high resource deficit to handle. Optimus Prime was the second Autobot on Shockwave's priority list. The first Autobot on his priority list would be you. You were a stalwart in the Autobot faction and had been for the entirety of your enlisting. Cunning, efficient, and hazardous to any Decepticon you deemed your opponent. A helmache to him when you would turn your attention onto him. Or his projects, if Shockwave happened to be your objective. A mech he will not hesitate to shoot first if he registers you in his peripheral. His chances of survival drastically decrease if he would entertain anything less.

Your pragmatism is something that- bothers his allies to a... substantial degree. In Shockwave’s case he recognizes the mutual comprehension, you seem to wordlessly share with one another. Even as enemies. You are going to strive to kill him. He is going to fight while simultaneously attempting to do the same to you. There is nothing less or more to bother with. Unless you are aiming to destroy his progress or projects. In which case he will need to be twice as proactive to prevent total destruction of his works. Something you have... no grievances in partaking in. The efficiency in which you are capable of operating that particular endeavor leaves Shockwave a touch... irritated. He can't recall any other bot who's made him squeeze his own fist harsh enough he’s popped a digit joint lose.

Neither can he recall himself even- entertaining more then necessary procedures. He's well aware it would be a waste of time. He would kill you first and foremost if he had the opportunity. However, rather perplexingly, Shockwave finds himself becoming- fixated. On particular opportunities he could partake in if Lord Megatron left you as his responsibility after you'd been subdued. Perhaps Shockwave would be- given the order by Lord Megatron to... Indulge. Something Shockwave has found Lord Megatron had a frequency of doing- employing acts for seemingly nothing more than… his own sadism. The possibility was quite high considering Lord Megatron’s pension for such decisions. Logically Shockwave had taken it on himself to then find what would account as “Indulgence” under such a hypothetical order. Opening you up and mapping out your internals would be a possible conclusion. To find out the logistics of what made you such a competent soldier. What he could not see on the surface with only his base optical output. What made you, you.

What made you whole.

… Shockwave believes he may be able to fulfill such an order to Indulge when he imagines your faceplate overwhelmed and your optics brightened. Responding to his touch and his experimental- maintenance.

Dividers credit: @/cursed-carmine,

How pitiful, such a big, strong decepticon elite like yourself taken out by your outdated heat protocols being activated, such obsolete coding making you nothing but spike hungry shareware, and in the heat of battle no less! That poor autobot leader was trying so hard to tend to you, to protect you from your own when all you wanted so badly was to be fragged, you were even whimpering for him!

That’s why you’re under the table now to ‘make up for it’, as Megatron said. A meeting, it was needed to discuss future plans of attack and what to do about you. But how can anyone focus on what their leader is saying when all they can hear is you choking yourself on Megatron’s spike? Every word their leader says is nearly drowned out entirely by your need. Never had they heard you sound so downright sinful, muffled whines and messy slurping sounds all anyone in the room can focus on.

“Further more it seems our plan backfired in more ways than one.” Megatron drones on, seemingly not at all affected by your greedy sucking, “Who knew such obsolete code existed within our ranks?” He laughs, placing a servo to the back of your helm and not even needing to shove you further down his spike; you do it all yourself, moaning so sweetly around him as you take it to the base.

Your optics flutter, threatening to close as your frame trembles. Your leader loves how sensitive you are, how your lust filled processor melts just tasting his pre-fluid, from being used so openly.

“How pitiful you are, and making such a mess too.” The silver mech sighs, feigning annoyance as the puddle of transfluid grows under your squirming hips.

Your leader places a pede to your spike, gritting his denta to stop himself from moaning out as you cry out around him. Your hips lurch forward, humping his pede like a needy cyberhound. Optics squeezing shut, you’re overwhelmed, but it’s not enough! Your spike throbs, your charge crackling within your frame, spraying your transfluid across your stomach and leaking onto the floor. Megatron is quite pleased with your whorish expression, to see your dermas stretch around his thick spike, pretty optics shining so bright and glossy. He didn’t even need to guide you to taking him deep. His bright optics tear away from you, back to his worthless crew to continue speaking.

Yet none of them listening, dozens of optics keep dropping as if they could see under the table. All only able to hear the wet sloppy sounds of you sucking Megatron off like you needed it to live. The mechs unable to move knowing they’d earn their leader’s ire, but the more they hear the more they shake, wanting a piece of you, just a taste is all they ask.

The decepitcon leader knows this all too well.

His grin dangerous, his spike throbbing before he shoves your helm down keeping you there to swallow his transfluid. Your optics cross as your own overload strikes your frame yet again, making a bigger mess below you and across your stomach mesh. So sensitive and responsive thanks to your outdated coding, but oh how Megatron loves it.

Megatron smirks at your cumdrunk form, only to hiss through clenched denta as you keep sucking, wanting more, needing more.

“Such shareware you are.” Despite his words the servo on your helm pets you gently, making you pull off his depressurizing spike to nuzzle into his palm, “Seems this meeting will go nowhere, not with you being such a distraction.” Oh, but how could he be mad at you when you look up at him like that? Perfect spike warmer you are.

Megatron moves his seat back, grabbing you by the underarms and lightly tossing you on top of the table, giving every filthy mech there the long awaited sight of you. Your stomach is covered in your own transfluid, your face plate flushed a deep blue, with your optics bright and dazed.

Yet Megatron walks away with a scoff, “And someone clean the mess they left under the table, I have work to continue.” Leaving you to the wolves.

You whimper, laying back flat against the cold table searching for any form of relief but it came faster than you thought. The room is in chaos with mechs stumbling over themselves and each other, metal being thrown around as everyone lunges for you, only to be beaten by Skywarp using his outlier to reach you first. He takes you to the door the same way, with Thundercracker and Starscream right behind him guarding  as the three rush you to the nearest room to shove you in.

The door locks and your world spins. Your back strut hits a desk, helm over the side, but all your muddled processor can focus on is someone spreading your pedes wide open, putting your dripping spike and leaking valve on display.

“Move aside!”

“Don’t be so rough with them-“

“Shut up and move!”

Three voices chime, all you’re able to hear is metal clashing as the trio shove their way into the places they want. Blue becomes clear to your optics, staring at an almost worried Thundercracker, but not worried enough to keep his modesty panel closed. The spike in front of your face was decently thick, a little on the short side, but so pretty-

Your intake drops with a short squeal when someone drops their hot and wet valve on your own needy spike. Before you can even process the snug clench, your valve is stretched open on another spike, curved and hitting your ceiling nodes with ease. Cruel laughter echoes, but you can barely hear it over the engeron rushing through your audials.

"Haha, look at them, such a pretty thing ready to ruin!" Skywarp cackles, wasting no time to dropping himself onto your spike, rolling his hips to grind his node in your pelvis before picking himself up and letting gravity do most of the work.

Your servos flail, desperate for something or someone to grab, something to ground your fading mind with. Your back strut arches with your loud cry, your hips furiously trying to fuck yourself against Skywarp and Starscream. Your overload gushes both within the purple seeker and over the pelvis of your dear sky commander in your transfluid.

Skywarp trembles feeling your cum pour into his valve, "Overloading already? The party just gettin' started!"

"Perhaps these outdated codes are a blessing; look at how ready they are." Starscream sighs, to keep his servos on your knees keeping them from closing. Though it's not lost on him that you're trying to wrap your legs around his waist to have him close.

"Valve so needy, perfect shareware for us." The sky commander purrs.

Warm and welcoming, perfect to use and fill. All of Starscream’s mounting frustrations with you are taken out of your greedy cunt. His hips snap to yours swiftly, harshly smacking against your aft. Every thrust sends your hips upward, unintentionally aiding Skywarp to his own release. The force makes your hips meet his every time he drops down on your spike, pushing the tip of your cock to his sensitive ceiling nodes. The sloppy wet sounds echo in the relatively small room, yet none of that matters, not when you’re making such slutty sounds.

"Don't you think you two are being a bit harsh on 'em? I mean, they are already mindless." Thundercracker tries to defend you, no matter how hot you look sticking your glossa out, trying to beckon him closer. Oh who is the blue seeker fooling; you have him wrapped around your digit. All those fleeting touches and brushes of your EM field had him a mess for you. Even now the blue seeker strokes the base of his spike in front of you, practically taunting you as he stays just out of reach, and only allows you to see the transfluid bubbling from his bulbous tip. The heady scent flooding your nasal passage, as if you weren’t drooling enough, he’s so mean when you need his spike most!

"Puh…please..!" You try to speak, watery optics blearily look to Thundercracker, yearning, needing him to fill your intake. It’s so empty, too empty, you need him, need his cum. Your processor gives out half way through trying to plead.

“Shuddup would ya?” The purple seeker grabs your cheeks squishing them between his digits, “Just frag ‘em already! Look, they are practically begging to get fragged and stuffed.” Skywarp used his outlier to ensure they had first dibs on you, he is not going to waste it arguing when no doubt the others would find them soon.

“Or don’t, let the fools beyond these walls hear how much they like being used.” Starscream purrs, lifting your pede over his shoulder. He kisses your calf so lovingly, just to sink his denta into the exposed mesh. His engine rumbles as a choked moan tears from his dermas feeling you clamp down around him.

“Mark me, mark me claim me- please please, need it—!!” Your back strut arches as a broken squeal tumbles from your drool covered dermas.

Skywarp’s valve flutters around your throbbing length as the con places his servos on your chassis, allowing him lean forward and fuck himself faster on your cock, using you like you were a dildo for him to use and get his pleasure from. Drool lands on your chassis as the mech above you bites his bottom derma, silencing the filthy sounds that wish to be freed in favor of hearing you.

The last of them finally can’t take it; Thundercracker moves in closely, attempting to take it easy unlike the other two who frag your frame like it’s their only chance they’ll do so. Taking a deep in-vent, he places his servos on the table under you, but you didn’t give him a chance as your own servos shoot forward. Your digits grip tightly to his thighs digging into his transformation seams to yank him forward. An embarrassing yelp of static falls from Thundercracker’s voice box as the wet heat of your mouth wrap around his spike with ease. Stretching you attempt to take him to the base in an attempt to choke yourself on him for a taste of his transfluid.

“Slaaag!” The blue seeker cries, voice crackling with static. His hips move as if they have a mind of their own, fucking your throat with reckless abandon. He’s horrible! He was trying to be better than the mechs to come, show you he can actually take care of you, maybe even prove to you his worth. But he can’t, you feel too good! Primus, you’re trying to suck him dry!

Thundercracker leans his helm down, red optics bright watching your throat bulge with every thrust of his hips. The sight leaves him whining, squeezing his optics shut tightly. He knows if he keeps watching he will overload too soon.

He’s sorry, sorry, so sorry, he can’t stop! If only you could hear what he wants to say, instead of hollowing your cheeks out to messily suck on his spike. Your optics roll back, muffled mewls barely able to vibrate in your pipe as you are held down and fragged like shareware. Never once are you left empty, filled or warmed by one of them and their vicious fucking. Your helm feels so heavy yet your frame crackles, EM field jumping everywhere in a wild need to feel someone, anyone.

Starscream slams his cock deep within you, his thrusts turning into quick, sloppy bucks of his hips. He barely pulling out of you, like he couldn’t stand to part with you. He finally gets to have you, finally gets to put your cocky self in your place, so why does he feel like it’s him that’s falling? Growling, the seeker sinks his sharp digits into your metal, threatening to puncture your armor. And yet you shriek around Thundercracker, your frame attempting to thrash as the pain and pleasure mix into an intoxicating brew within your fuel lines.

You aren’t sure if you can keep up! It’s so hot, too hot, your frame feels like it’s overheating! A warning flashes behind your optics. You can’t ex-vent out the hot air from your system, Thundercracker’s hips are moving too fast, slapping and blocking your vents from properly working.

Your helm feels like lead, the lack of cool air making your processor muddled. The three don’t stop, not until they have had their fill. With Starscream overloading first, his hips snapping against yours once, twice, before lingering, to make sure your valve takes his spent. He will taint you for anyone else, or so he hopes. The rush of hot translfuid in your empty cunt triggers your own release, your frame shaking, cumming inside Skywarp and around Starscream.

“Slag yes! Just like that-! Frag, ya know how to fill a mech up good.” Skywarp purrs, his own overload coating your torso in a pretty pink stain as well as your spike. He could get use to this, keep you locked away for their use only. Keep you as their pretty little mate those heat protocols tell you to be.

Thundercracker is the last to overload, pushing his hips one last time so the tip of his spike hits the back of your throat, coating your pipe in his cum, making sure you take every last drop. Swallowing around his cock, you whine, taking all he has. Pulling back, the blue seeker lifts your helm to see you better, hoping you were okay after such treatment. He swear under his breath as you open your intake wide and stick your glossa out, showing him you swallowed all he had given you like a good mech.

You really are trying to send him into the well early, aren’t you?

Yet can they really be done just yet, they still have so much cum to fuck into your needy holes. Surely you won’t mind if they unloaded it all into you; they are so backed up after all, and you’re just too good for them to pass up. The three don’t even glance at one another for they already know they are all thinking the same thing: to make you theirs, keep you for themselves to frag and love.

However the choice is made for them and against their will, when the door to the communications room is thrown wide open. A chair flying through the air, clocking Skywarp across the helm and flinging him off you. Thundercracker jumps back from you whilst Starscream sneers at the blasted triple changer barreling into the room and towering over him.

“Finally found you slaggin’ glitches!” The larger mech wastes no time speeding right to you, ready to put the egotistical flier in his place just so he could get a taste of you! Astrotrain hadn’t expected you to whine so loudly as he grabbed Starscream by the neck and pulled him away from you. Oh, how you are just so cute. Here you lay, an elite, his superior, and you look so fragged out mind, thighs twitching trying to close so you could move, seeking a spike to fill you again and again. Tossing the rather annoying seeker to the wall the triple changer grabs you instead, lifting you up and off the table and into his awaiting arms. Astrotrain moves swiftly, not at all risking losing you to anyone else, especially not those dense afts!

You just melt into him, nuzzling your helm into his neck cables your glossa licking across the thick cables, trying to find the perfect spot for your claiming bite. The cum stuffed inside you begins to leak down your inner thighs, reminding you of how achingly empty you are. Your hips buck forward trying to hump against the large triple changer. Even now you have no shame, just craving to be fragged and filled. Astrotrain grunts, feeling your denta sink into his neck. His Modesty panel retracts letting his all too big spike slip between your soaked thighs.

“Primus, look at you, all this over my spike? Ya really are something else.” Finding a suitable place can wait, right here in the hallway is fine; he can hardly wait any longer.

Your back strut meets the cold wall, burning hot frame trembling at the temperature difference, yet your optics stay right on the spike of the mech before you. Just looking at it makes you drool, the heat of it against your valve could make you overload. The triple changer laughs at your need. One servo grips under your aft, holding you up, using his large frame to keep you pinned between him and the wall. It allows his free servo to grip your face making you look at him.

“Astro…” You trail off with a whimper. Shaking your hips, you try to entice him, to make him mold your valve to the shape of him. Wet slit dragging across the length of his shaft, you try desperately to fuck yourself on him, to overload again and again until you black out.

“Frag, you’re so pathetic like this…” The large mech purrs, his wings fluttering behind him as he drools at the sight of you, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to plow you into the dirt, and I finally have you under me, beggin’ for me.” Astrotrain’s vent come out in sharp quick puffs, steam trailing above him as his frame tries to expel the heat to prevent his systems from overheating.

After all this time, he finally gets to make that valve his.

“Hm, I wonder how many marks I can leave across this slutty frame of yours.” The triple changer chuckles when you moan out at just the thought, “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? To be marked,” the triple changer only pauses in his words to lick the drool sliding down your chin, “as all mine.” You squeeze you optics shut, frame trembling as you begin to squirm. “For the world to know just who makes you weak.

”All for him, only for him, yeah? Screw everyone else he finally has you!

“You can’t even wait, look at those hips.” Astrotrain laughs at your neediness. The servo under your aft moves. Your pedes hitting the ground with a heavy thud, almost limp. You toss your helm back with a loud cry, hips thrusting forward as the triple changer shoves two digits into your sloppy valve. The wet squelch echoes in the hallway, ringing in your audials.

“So loud and I ain’t hardly done a thing. Those seekers can’t treat you like I can; this valve needs a real mech, yeah?” Digits assault your ceiling nodes with every pump of his wrist, the palm of his servo slapping your anterior node, grinding against the bright bud whilst he finger fucks the transfluid out of you to make room for his.

You can’t vent. Your frame warns of an possible shut down from being wound up so tightly. You’re unable to believe this is actually happening to you, you are finally getting a fat spike to scratch the itch of your heat protocol! Finally, something to fill you beyond measure. Your spike twitches against Astrotrain’s stomach mesh and your valve clenches on his digits, excited by the mere thought of having him empty his cum inside you!

“Please, please, pleaaase it’s - not enough—!!” Your words are rushed out as you try to beg, “Frag me- need you fragging me- mm! gah..! M’yours yours yours please-!” Begging with a roll of your hips, you need his spike now! Your digits sink into his shoulders, scratching at his paint, trying to quell the instinctive urge to lay a claim on him.

Primus save him, you just know how to push his buttons! His systems are overheating but he can’t find it in him to care. Slamming his dermas to yours in a harsh clink of your denta, his glossa pushes into your awaiting intake with no resistance. Sharp fangs dig into your bottom lip, nipping the soft metal, letting energon pool to the surface. Gasping at the sensation, you are given a brief second of cold air before your intake is stuffed with the triple changer’s glossa. Your optics roll back before closing shut, mewling into the impassioned kiss.

Strong digits squeeze the cables along your neck, keeping you upright lifting you up, just enough for the Triple changer to place himself between your pedes. Pressing closer to your heated frame. Coolant sticking to your frame, your audials ring with the deep grunts and groans that make your wires sing! Every squirm and wriggle of your hips makes it hard to keep a grip on you, despite your heat, your strength as an elite is barely diminished. If he wants you under him, he’s going to have to break you in before you get any ideas.

A whimper falls from your kissed bruised dermas. A thin strand of spit connects your glossas together, breaking when he moves too far away. You truly are a sight to behold: optics down-turned and pleading, frame shining with coolant, and the pre-fluid from your spike soaking not only his stomach mesh but yourself. Dazed, you try to drag him back, wanting more of his tongue down your throat.

The triple changer pulls his dripping digits from your sopping wet heat. Mockingly, he coos at the pitiful whine you let out.

“Wait…no, no don’t stop—!!” The words die on your glossa as pain shoots through your wires. You shriek with a wet smack accompanying your cry. Your valve is empty but your node pulsing from the swift smack Astrotrain gives your pussy.

Your back strut arches as you cling to the large mech, completely blind to your pre-fluid splattering across his lap. Astrotrain chuckles, taking your tender node in between his digits and pinching the sensitive bud, cooing as you squeal. Your hips jerking as the overload fries your processors. However, your squeal is cut short by digits covered in transfluid covered shoving into your open intake.

“Shut up and lick ‘em clean.” As hot as your filthy sounds were, he doesn’t need you attracting nobody else.

With glazed over, glossy optics, you do as told. Dermas wrapping around his drenched digits, you suck on them like it’s the spike now pressing to your valve mesh. Glossa dragging between his digits to get a taste of yourself and the transfluid Starscream left in you. Your frame trembles, hips twitching almost like you could overload from that alone. Grabbing one of your pedes just behind your knee, Astrotrain lifts your leg up and kicking your other to spread wider, in an attempt to fit between your pedes.

With your greedy hole on display for him, Astrotrain wastes no time pushing the bulbous head of his spike into it, biting down on his bottom lip at how you clench down on him already! You just have to make things difficult.

“D-Don’t clench like that… frag!” The triple changer breathes out, voice shaking at just how tight you are around him. He’s not even sure he can make it if you don’t relax! Astrotrain bucks up, pushing more and more of his spike into your tight wet heat. Even after being fucked you still have such a grip on him.

You bite down on the digits inside your intake, optics fluttering back as you struggle to not cry out. Slag, he’s so thick, and he isn’t even all the way inside you yet! Glossy optics bore into those deep vermilion ones, silently pleading with him to just fuck you already, and by Primus he is trying!

Squeezing your leg to get a better grip, Astrotrain pulls his hips back and swings them froward, impaling you further down his cock. Your back strut arches, quaking under his vicious push and pull. Astrotrain shoves more and more into you like he’s nothing more than a rut stricken beast mounting you.

Scrambling, you try to mumble something. It’s too hot, you’re losing your processor to his spike! A shock is sent down your spinal strut, hips shaking with vigor. Astrotrain swears under his breath, pulling his digits from your intake to place it on your other pede. He lifts you up off the ground and presses himself to the base, fucking himself in your creaming hole.

“S’in my tank!!” You wail, the tip of his spike kissing your forge tank with every thrust. Your helm spin, “S…sooo deep..!” Oral lubricant flows from your agape intake, your words slurred from the intensity every overload brings you.

The triple changer shoves his helm into your neck, glossa dragging across your cables as he frags you through your climax. You are nothing more than a weeping mess in his hold, drunken smile on your dermas as you finally get what you’ve wanted.

“Greedy glitch!” Astrotrain growls, as you keep fogging his processor. His pedes feel like they are going to give out. You feel so good around him, trying to drain him of his transfluid, but he wants to last here, damn it! His denta sink into your neck cables in an attempt to muffle his own sounds. You’re ruining him and you don’t even know it.

His spike curves, dragging across your ceiling nodes every time he pulls back. He’s so close to you that your own spike rubs against his stomach. It’s too much, too hot, too overwhelming as the pain bites at your wires, only to bleed into a burning high, pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever felt! Astrotrain really should keep you quiet, but you just sound so damn good, all loud and crying just for him.

His own greed is his downfall. You two didn’t even hear the pedesteps until they were so close they made Astrotrain stop. He buries himself deep within you to cover you, cling to you to glaring over his shoulder at whoever it was, but his thrusts slowed to a stop to glare at that smug grin of the other triple changer.

Before Blitzwing can even get a word out, you’re whining loudly, trying to wiggle your hips to get more of Astrotrain.

“Noo, don’t stop…need it…*frag.* Was so close! Please…” You plead, vents glowing orange from the heat building withing your systems.

You make it so hard to handle business. Astrotrain growls, trying to ignore your pretty begging and how you wrap your pedes around him trying to get him closer.

“You sack of scrap, ya can’t just take ‘em and run off without me!” Blitzwing shoves his way forward, trying to snatch you from his fellow triple changer, but Astrotrain isn’t having it as he curls around you as much as he physically can.

“You can head right on to the scrap heap! I ain’t gotta do a damn thing, now buzz off!” The mech over you snarls, dual engine rumbling with rage. Here is he trying to have a good time with his superior, and now this dense aft wants to ruin all the hard work that went into getting you under him!

Blitzwing’s smug grin twists into a scowl, getting more fed up by the second that his old pal doesn’t want to share you when clearly there is enough of you to go around. Especially with those sweet sounds you’re making, he knows you’d gladly take everyone on the Nemesis and still have so much more to give. If only Astrotrain would just accept that. As much as Blitzwing wants you for himself as well, he can’t ignore the fact that Megatron would have a first claim over you, and only give the others a taste of you after he’s had his fill.

Blitzwing grabs Astrotrain’s shoulder, tugging him back in an attempt to pry him off you. But the shuttle mech struggles to not budge; he can’t allow even a breath of cold air between you two for he knows the tank jet behind him will use that to steal you from him. You can’t take it, all you can feel is Astrotrain’s hot and heavy spike resting within you, barely moving just enough to tease you when you had been so close!

“Shut up, shut up, shut. Up!” You shout, pedes flailing and clocking Blitzwing in the chassis with your surprisingly quick movements, knocking his systems off for a brief second. “Frag me and don’t slagging stop until someone offlines!” You pant. It doesn’t matter what anyone has to say, if they aren’t breaking your valve into the sparkdamned well you don’t care.

Astrotrain groans, scoffing under his breath. If the large mech had the time to sulk he could, not that Blitzwing would allow him to have time, giving the fellow triple changer and rough pat on the back strut.

“You heard ‘em! We can’t deny such a request now, can we?” He laughs, swiftly moving beside you, slipping an arm behind your back strut. Astrotrain finally moves you away from the wall giving Blitzwing the space to slip in behind you, your spinal strut pressed against his chassis.

Astrotrain gives Blitzwing hold over your pedes, letting the other mech keep your legs wide open whilst he grabs ahold of your hips to angle you back. In your haze, you didn’t realize they wouldn’t be using your intake. The realization hits you as you hear Blitzwing’s modesty panel retract, allowing his lengthy and heavy spike to rub against your aft and leaving a hot smear of pre-fluid across your metal.

“Move their hips back, I can’t frag ‘em if ya keep hogging them for yourself.”

Oh lord, they are just going to keep arguing.

With an annoyed huff, Astrotrain moves your hips back, pulling himself back a little to try and give your second lover some space to actually move. Blitzwing moves his spike forward, finding your weeping slit, though an annoyed Astrotrain won't move from his spot. He presses up but slips, your valve not giving. He tries again with a muttered swear, until his voice box crackles as soon as his tip catches in your hole.

“Fraaag! Such a perfect valve. So tiiight-!” Blitzwing puffs out air through his vents, his warm breath fanning across your neck, “Relax, boss.”

"I am!" Your grip on Astrotrain’s shoulders tightens as you try to keep yourself grounded in anyway you can, despite it being far too late.

Your pulsing valve gives you away.

Your optics roll back, feeling the tip of Blitzwing's spike catching your fuck hole. Tears well up in your optics once more as you try to take both mechs; you don’t think your valve can handle it. You feel like you’re being split in half, but it feels so good! You cry out as the brute behind you bullies his spike into your already stuffed hole.

Your metal distending, denting outward from how full they made you. The spread and stretch of your valve is tight, the feeling them both spear you open like this, as wide as you could possibly go. Astrotrain, despite how desperate you two are, tries to remain steady, wanting to prove himself better than the bastard behind you. He knows they are pushing you to your limit, and it’s a thought that makes his engines rev.

Blitzwing can’t hold back; why should he when your frame is begging for him? He’s the first one to move to, swiftly pulling his hips back and ramming forward, he frags his spike right against the entrance of your forge, threatening to breach it.

“You slaggin’ cheat!” Astrotrain huffs, quick to not fall behind and let that sack of scrap frag you better than he can! His thicker spike slams against your ceilings nodes, he’s already drooling at just how fragged dumb you are already, as if he’s not close behind you.

By Primus, you are wet. Blitzwing finds himself biting his dermas so hard it’s bleeding. Each thrust feels like a swift punch, but it also feels like forever. By the time he bottoms out, he's panting, and trying not to sob into your neck.

"You're so tight! Frag..." Blitzwing swears, his groan bleeding into a whine.

"A perfect valve to be ruined and claimed." Astrotrain manages, as the fluttering of your valve leaves his helm spinning.

Both pull out till they were barely in, then slams back in with one rough thrust. You cry out at the sudden wave of pleasure as the head of their spikes slam into your forge tank.

"S'big! Haaa-!" You slur, throwing your helm back as they repeated the rough action, "Faster! Please!"

The two out right moan, but follow your request. It’s difficult not to lose themselves right away, though both of the triple changers could feel their resolve slipping. You feel so good!

For Blitzwing, felt everything become a blur. The only thing he cares about is the pleasure, and your cute, lewd sounds.

"Gonna fill you up... Make you mine... Wanted this for so long!" Blitzwing chants as he fucks his spike into you. This was like a dream come true! Oh how he loves you, wanted you and now getting to frag you... It was all he had ever wants.

You’re never left empty, one mech would slam in just as the other was pulls out.

You can barely process their words, your mind only thinking about how good they feel inside you.

Your optics roll back and intake falls open, your drool sliding down your chin as they use you like a fleshlight.

The pair pound their spikes into you. Your squeals echo throughout the hallway, all your sobs and cries for the entire Nemesis to hear. Blitzwing’s glossa rolls out of his mouth, a valve drunk grin stretched on his face.

You feel so good! And all your clenching is making him want to overload!

You shriek, your nails digging into Astrotrain’s shoulders, scratching him while you squeal, "T-there! Please! Fill me, need it- need your- ah!"

Their holds on you dent your metal, putting more of marks on you. Your helm tilts back against Blitzwing’s shoulder, too heavy to hold up anymore. Their spikes are constantly slamming into your sweet spot, leaving you in tears.

"Gonna overload! Oooh frag! Frag!" You cry, your valve clenching as your transfluid gushes on their spikes, making a mess on their mesh and creating a small puddle on the floor below. Your spike sprays transfluid onto Astrotrain’s stomach mesh and chassis, coating him in your filthy scent, bringing you to new heights. The only sounds that you make are fragged out of you in a punishing rhythm, your sweet cries of 'Ah! Ah! Ah!' echoing though the hallway.

"C'mon! Take it! Take all of it! G-gonna cum, mark you as mine! Aah!" Astrotrain struggles to moan out, voice cracking into a pathetic whine as his charge surgesthrough him.

“No, mine!” Blitzwing argues, sinking his denta into your neck cables, and denting them to leave an imprint of his bite along your frame.

You arch your spinal strut, body twitching as another high pitch wail tears from your sore throat. You feel another overload charge through your systems from the bite alone. The two growl and swear under their breath, spikes twitching before they overload inside you. They pound your forge tank and push all their transfluid inside, with slow, heavy thrusts to frag their fluid deeper into you. Load after load just continues being pumped into your filled valve.

Both mechs slow to a stop, venting harshly as they rest within you, making you warm their spikes. Your frame twitches sporadically, with broken weak whimpers coming from your well used voice box. Not a thought through your helm aside from more, more, more! Your hips attempt to move to grind down on them, but Astrotrain’s servos keep their hold on you.

The triple changers hiss through gritted denta as your valve clenches down on them trying to get them to frag you again.

“You just can’t stop…” Blitzwing sighs, struggling to decide if he can handle it or not, maybe one or two more couldn’t hurt, wait for Astrotrain to get too tired and he can have you to himself, mount you like the glitch in heat you are.

“How much can your valve even take, doll?” Astrotrain tries not to sound so shocked, after all this you still want more? Just what are those outdated codes doing to you?

Astrotrain barely pulls his spike out and grinds himself back into you valve, testing his own sensitivity. With a hushed moan, the triple changer decides for you, he could go again, maybe even shove Blitzwing out of the way and have a moment alone with you like he originally planned.

“You blasted barbarians are going to overload their capacitors! It'll take forever to fix them!" a new voice shouts, the sounds of the mech’s pedes getting closer has the triple changers looking down the hall on one livid Hook.

The constructicon wastes no time smacking Astrotrain upside the head, making Blitzwing cackle, until he’s smacked too with a loud ’thunk!' The two groan from the pain.

“Look at ‘em! You got their helm all fragged up. Do you know what issues overheatin’ can cause, it ain’t pretty!” The green mech shouts, waving a wrench around to threaten the triple changers like they were just a pack of dumb dogs. “Hand ‘em over before you two send ‘em into the well.” “What!? You think we’re dumb enough to just hand them off to you? What for, so you can hog them for yourself? Fat chan-” Astrotrain is cut off by Hook chucking a wretch at him as hard as he possibly could, making the larger mech stumble back with a new dent to his forehead before toppling over.

Blitzwing watches the construct mech pull another tool from his subspace, ready to go pede to pede with the last standing triple changer. Thinking on it, Blitzwing is sure he could kill Hook, put him in his place and humiliate the mech by fragging you some more over him. His thoughts disappear when you try to move, but are unable to, almost like your frame was made of lead. The air pushes from your vent, only glowing brighter with each passing moment.

Ah frag it, don’t say he didn’t do anything nice for you.

Hook is surprised when Blitzwing pulls out of you, letting his transfluid leak from you before he's handing you off to the medic.

“About damn time you had some sense.” Hook takes you, gentle in how he holds your barely conscious frame to his own

“Don’t push your luck, runt.”

Just for that, the triple changer might go snitch. After all, those cone-heads are probably searching for you too, or those combaticons. What is he saying? The entire ship is hunting for you.

Hook dips while he can, muttering some choice words as he takes in the state you are in. The twitches, the glazed look in your optics, the fact you haven’t moved since being placed in his arms; it makes a pang of worry pulse through his spark. First, he is getting you cleaned up. That’s what you needed most, and some energon too, and then a long stasis. What could even be used as nesting material? Bah, he’ll figure it out when you’re asleep.

Right into the wash room he goes. He needs to make this quick before anyone else tries to take you away. Turning the faucet on, he lets the oil get warm first, and then moves you into it’s range, sitting on the floor with you tucked sweetly into his lap. His spark is melting at how you lean into his chassis, helm sluggishly nuzzling into his neck cables. Now he sees why everyone has been having a hard time keeping their servos off you. You’re so precious when you’re all fragged out like this, he can’t really blame anyone… except he will anyway.

“Sorry, boss, but we gotta get you at least half decent.” Hook speaks softly, as at least here behind a closed door he can be gentle with you without anyone seeing.

You almost win when you whimper, being moved so your back meets his chassis, your tender array exposed once more to the gentle warmth of the oil. You don’t put up a fight, allowing the mech to do whatever he wants with you. You're barely aware of him placing a cloth to your chassis, rubbing and lathering you up, cleaning your transfluid off yourself in slow motions. Hook coos as your engine begins to rumble quietly in a gentle purr, content and happy to be touched so lovingly after all the tossing around you’ve been put through.

“Look at you, all sweet f’me, yeah?” He chuckles, nuzzling his helm against yours, having read up on heat protocols just to help you better.

You don’t speak, only answering him with a lazy turn of your helm to lightly bonk against his. Soon Hook’s servo sinks lower. He shushes you when he brushes across the dents in your armor that Blitzwing’s grip left on you. The lower he goes the more you begin to stir, no longer just resting against him but actively trying to move; whether away from his touch or into it he can’t say for sure, but he wraps his free servo around your waist to make sure you can’t move too far from him.

“Easy there, boss, I got ya. Just a little more, alright?” Hook reassures you, his sweet handsome mech, all pretty on his lap.

“Mm.” You can barely hum, but your processor begins to wake up a little more.

Your frame jerks forward, a sharp inhale through your vents as Hook rubs your spike. A pitiful mewl falls from your dermas, hips shaking on his lap.

“Shh, I just gotta clean you up before we get you to your habsuite.” Or his, probably his, it’s safer.

“Hook…” You whine his name with a tremble to your voice. His touch is so light, it’s like he’s teasing you, driving you crazy!

Once your spike was clean, or as clean as he was going to get it as he watches it throb and leak more pre-fluid, he moves to your more than well loved valve. Primus, your anterior node feels so hot, pulsing even under the most delicate touches.

“Brutes just don’t know how to treat you right, such a shame.” Hook coos, but he can’t lie, seeing you so stuffed and so mindless is getting his charge going. He wishes he got to you first, and he would have, had it not been for that stupid purple seeker and his outlier.

Digits carefully glide around your valve mesh, wiping away the combined fluids sticking to it. He tries to coax as much out as he can before needing to insert his digits. His engine nearly stalls when you buck your hips sloppily into his palm, trying to get his digits in deeper, to make them curl and hit your ceiling nodes. But Hook remains strong, as much as he doesn’t want to.

“Easy, doll, don’t move, just let me do all the work.” You make it difficult to remain so calm, when you’re moving like this and making sounds like that.

Any more noise and-

The door to the washrooms bursts open and Hook can only close his optics with a deep sigh, already knowing the dumbafts who have shoved their way inside.

“You glitch, how could ya run off and leave us fightin’ everyone else?” Bonecrusher shouts, moving past Scrapper and making a beeline right to you and Hook.

“Shhh!! If you’re any louder the others will find us!” Hook scolds, but it falls on deaf audials.

“You think you can just take them for yourself and not share with us?” Mixmaster joins along side Bonecrusher.

Despite Hook’s best attempts he is shoved to the side as the others surround you, lifting you up off the ground and placing you on one of the benches just outside the shower. The six coo at your sad whimper being moved away from the warm oil.

“Don’t you worry boss, we will warm you up real good.” Scrapper pats your thigh, chuckling at how you just fall limp, spreading yourself open to welcome their touch.

“Slag am I, scrap metal!?” Hook tries to argue whilst being shoved away to the side. Since he wanted to take you for himself he will have to deal with merely taking your one of your servo’s leaving the rest of your delectable frame to the others.

Scavenger and Long Haul wasting no time diving down to either side of your hips, sucking your spike each taking a side and sucking along your thick length, spoiling you with their desperate need to taste your transfluid. Mixmaster is crouched just below, nearly out of view, blocked by the two on your lap. Green servos curl around the apex of your inner thighs, thumbs spreading those fat valve lips open to let Mixmaster see that pulsing node and dripping hole. He’s already drooling just looking at it. The heavy, heady scent of your valve almost puts him in a trance.

You can’t see past Scavenger and Long Haul, but you can feel it, though your processor runs slow from the feverish touches of your other lovers. Long Haul licks up, glossa dragging across your weeping tip lapping at the copious transfluid before wrapping his dermas around it sucking it while Scavenger kisses the base of your spike sucking each ridge on his way up, placing a servo where he once was to try and milk your cock.

Mixmaster wastes no time getting a taste of your freshly cleaned valve, already shoving his face between your legs. All you can feel is his glossa teasing your slick hole, licking and collection all your weeping fluid up, slowly, up to your sweet node making a circle with his covered glossa, dragging it back to your clenching hole, just to take what he’s collected to spit it all on your too sensitive bud before wrapping his dermas around it, sucking on it just to get you giving him more of your intoxicating slick. Laughing against your mesh as you shake.

Bonecrusher chuckles, holding the sides of your helm in his servos making you tilt your head back to look at him, more so at his spike, fat and long. Your optics widen for a brief moment yet your intake already drops open, drooling and ready to be filled. Slowly, the heavy mech guides his spike down your throat, pipe bulging with each rut of his hips shoving cock down your intake. The towering mech groans loudly, drool sliding down his chin feeling you swallow around his spike, your throat tightening around his length trying to milk him. Frag, you’re just too much!

Your optics begin to cross, tears welling in them. It’s too much, you can’t take much more of this! Primus, they are trying to off line you. Yet your frame begs to differ. Scavenger and Long Haul needing to hold your hips down to keep you from throwing them off. Your pedes squirm, heels digging into Mix Master’s back strut as he sucks on your pretty node. Whimpers and moans muffled on the fat spike choking you, unable to handle such lavish attention.

“That’s it, sweetness, let us handle ya.” Bonecrusher sighs out, his vocal components shorting for a brief moment as he overloads, his transfluid coating your intake, giving you too much with it starting to overflow from around him. Bonecrusher pulls out, letting some of his cum spurt across your face and chassis. while Hook and Scrapper are feeling up your frame, groping your mesh and teasing as your transformation seams as they fuck their spikes into your fists.

“Aw poor boss, yer lookin’ a bit flustered there.” Bonecrusher can’t help but tease, knowing you can’t answer him let alone even hear him.

You do nothing but moan, swallowing all of his cum that you can and opening your intake once more showing you’ve swallowed all he had to give, yet trying to tempt him to keep going, making Bonecrusher swear loudly.

The surprise suction to your anterior node makes your optics widen and back strut arch. It’s too good! Too much! Your frame still so used and sensitive from how many mechs have fucked you, but your heat clouds it all, the mixture of pain and pleasure becoming so intoxicating! Your hips bucking torn between more and escaping the hold you’re in. Long Haul chokes not expecting to take much more so suddenly, though his optics roll back with your transfluid gushing down his throat and trying to greedily drink it all.

Just to be shoved away by Scavenger, who swiftly slams your spike all the way down his throat, sucking and messily slurping down the remaining transfluid you have.

“You afthole, it was my turn on their spike!” Though the snarl falls on deaf audials.

Mixmaster, however, is left unchallenged, his own hips bucking into the air with his dermas off your node and right to your creaming hole. He can’t stop moaning against the pretty valve in his face. When your frame goes limp then the three pull off your array, leaving you venting harshly. Your optics are glazed over, audials feeling like they are stuffed with mesh, barely registering the group are all smirking and chuckling, already planning how to pick you apart now that they have you alone in the washroom with them.

“Slag, just look at you! Ain’t you a filthy sight?” Hook coos at you, moving his hips in your almost limp fist. Primus, he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he is, he’s suppose to be taking care of you, washing you up for a long stasis, but he really isn’t any better than the other cons, is he?

“Could keep ya all to ourselves like this.” Scrapper sighs out, his engine rumbling in a low purr taking in the sight of you, all fragged out and dripping with transfluid, watching your all too sensitive hips twitch up on their own accord, spurting more of your own transfluid like you overloaded just from their words.

You whimper, optics slowly blinking as you try to gather yourself, but all you can focus on is Bonecrusher’s still throbbing spike against your face. The mech before you huffs, his frame gently shaking as you run your glossa along what you can reach, giving it a wet kiss as a silent ‘thank you’. You really are after his spark, ain’t ya?

Scavenger leans back, silently shoving Mix’s helm out of the way, much to the other’s annoyance. But Mix focuses his energy onto your gaping holes, showing his love by pushing his glossa in and licking your fluids right from the source. Scavenger wets his digits with his own spit before reaching down and pinching your pulsing node between his digits.

Your optics widen, pedes snapping shut around Mixmaster’s helm with a violent tremble, your intake dropping open with a loud squeal that makes your voice crack and pitch into static. Your hips lurch forward, grinding across Mix’s face, using him for your pleasure. Mixmaster’s optics roll back, his hips jerking, humping the air in desperation, spraying his transfluid everywhere expect where he wants it the most.

A series of swears echo around, jaws dropping at the sight of those pretty optics rolling back with tears stinging them. Your overload gushing from your valve, coating Mix and Scavenger in your spraying transfluid.

“Keep goin’!”

“Primus, look at them! Get a picture, look at that slaggin’ face!”

“That’s it, Boss, lookin’ so good for us! Keep screamin’, c’mon, let’s hear that pretty voice.”

Scrapper’s helm perks up, looking away from you at an all too familiar sound.

“Scrap, we have company.”

Hook groans, still fucking his transfluid into your fist, “See this is exactly why I told you bag of bolts to keep it down!”

Megatron:

— He's not sure what to feel about it. At all. On one hand, he absolutely despises having to crane his helm up to see you. The warlord wasn't used to it in the slightest at the start and it took a long time to get accustomed to it. After all, he's usually the biggest mech in the room.

— But at the same time, he believes he deserves the best. A bot who can match up with him when it comes to strength and dominance, he finds it more thrilling that way. So he isn't exactly upset about it.

— Just because you're his s/o doesn't mean he'll be soft on you in public! It's hysterical to watch him bark out orders as he's tilting his helm up to meet your gaze. And don't you dare hunch your backstruts down to make it easier for him! He will visibly scowl. It's like you're insulting him for being short when you're just too damn big!

— Pick him up? Don't be ridiculous! He will never let anyone pick him up. Even if you were Primus himself. The only time Megatron willingly lets himself get carried away by you is if he's that injured. Even then, the best you can do is support him as he limps.

— But him, carrying you? Oh ho ho ho. He has the exact opposite feeling about it. Megatron loves it. It's like he gets to show off just how strong he is and he is insanely strong. He loves having you full on bridal style in his servos with a look of disapproval as he's got a cocky smile flashing right at you.

— If you try to surprise him, his battle instinct will flare and he will absolutely one hundred percent accidentally hit you smack across your helm and send you flying half way through The Nemesis. Megatron would be baffled you even attempted such a thing and might even feel a little bad about it.

— A bit NSFW but Megatron will love the idea of dominating a bot bigger than him, the ego rush he gets is gratifying. Also will fold like a lawn chair if you try seducing him.

— Now if there is a sparkling involved and said sparkling is bigger than him? Again, very, very mixed feelings. It was like yesterday his little starlight was just up to his hipstruts, begging to be carried up with wide optics and now he has to look up at them? Megatron is going to look at them and just zone out sometimes, how much have they grown… How quickly has time passed? But they're still not fully matured yet, so they're still his ‘little’ starlight… but they're not little anymore and it physically hurts his spark when he thinks of it.

— However, he is really happy to know that his child is intimidating and scares others. It makes him feel proud. It's like living up to Megatron's name. But because of that, he might have some skewed expectations of his sparkling. He's like a strict father in every sense of the word and he's got targets he would want them to meet.

— Imagine his amusement when his overgrown Cybertronian equivalent of a twelve year old frightens the wits out of Starscream. Proud fatherly tears, if he could shed any.

Soundwave:

— Soundwave has absolutely no issues with it in the slightest. If anything, he actually likes it. More area for his data cables to wrap around you.

— He also doesn't really mind being picked up by you. Like he won’t say he hates it or likes it, he's indifferent about it mostly. But he absolutely hates it when you pick him up unwarranted. He does see it coming but he doesn't have any way to avoid the inevitable. If you do it in front of others, expect a ‘no-interaction-with-you-for-sometime’ treatment.

— Soundwave quietly enjoys being carried back-pack style. He's got a lot more visual feed now and it doesn't get tiresome for him to hold on since his datacables play their part in helping him out with his grip. Again, he won't admit it outright and you will struggle trying to get any admissions from him.

— This mech actually likes it when you hunch down for him so that he can communicate with you better. He knows you're just being considerate so he doesn't hate it. You have no ill intentions. And he can tell when you're trying to mock him so it's really not a huge deal for the guy.

— I think Soundwave would try to lift you up with his datacables at least once to try and return your treatment and it ends up with the two of you as a tangled mess of limbs and data cables. Never again.

— This also means Lazerbeak has a nice spot to perch on, your paldron. He's going to be sitting there like those pirates and their parrots, like a crow on a lamp post.

— A bit NSFW but like I said earlier, he gets a lot more area to wrap his datacables with. More… opportunities.

— Again, he has absolutely no quarrels with his sparkling being bigger than him. I think Soundwave would be a girl dad. Like it doesn't matter how much bigger or stronger or smarter they are; they will ALWAYS be his baby. His brightest star. Of course, Soundwave wouldn't outwardly baby or pamper his sparkling but the thought is always in his helm no matter what size they are. So even if there's a minor injury involved, he's going to sit you down and patch them up like he used to when they were tiny. Soundwave is more of an action type of mech.

— Totally expects his sparkling to hunch down so that he can give them helm-pats. Soundwave strikes me as someone who would definitely give headpats as a sign of approval, affection and as a sign that he's proud of his literal child. Soundwave will just stand there and expect his sparkling to do so.

— Lazerbeak will sit on the sparkling's helm as they walk around. Sort of like a monitor.

— He's actually a really good dad. Even if he usually always busy he still makes time for his kid.

Starscream:

— The bombastic Starscream, where do I even start? He used to be very intimidated by you. Extremely. You're hovering over him like you're some sort of all seeing eye. It used to creep him out.

— Even after all your time being together, it will still unnerve him sometimes when you just stand behind him and look down at him but it's also kind of… hot.

— He will hiss like a cat if you try to pick him up. And if you try to pick him up by surprise, he's going to let out his embarrassingly high pitched squeal and then proceed to grumble while you make fun of him.

— But the thing is, Starscream actually likes being picked up unlike Megatron who genuinely despises it with all his spark. It's just Starscream's pride not allowing him to admit it, telling him to resist the allure of your warm servos and comforting EM field. If you are going to pick him up, make sure it's a bridal style. He's less grumpy about it that way.

— He doesn't even attempt to lift you up.

— One thing he does like is the privilege one gets when they have an intimidatingly tall s/o. Oh, you're trying to beat him up? He's running immediately to you. You give him scary dog privilege in a way and Starscream isn't ashamed about using it. He'll nervously laugh as he stands behind you as if you're a shield.

— A bit NSFW, just like Megatron, Starscream too finds it appealing to dominate a bot bigger than himself. But it also makes his submission feel oddly thrilling.

— If there's a sparkling involved, Starscream is going to be utterly disappointed when they turn out to grow bigger than him before they fully mature. His wings droop and everything. He remembers back then when he'd have this baby plane flying right next to him back when he used to take them for regular flight practice… and how they'd marvel at his flight stunts. If his sparkling gets cocky with him, Starscream will not hesitate to hit them with the: “just because you're bigger doesn't mean you can talk back to me like that!” while they blow a raspberry at him. Starscream knows it'll get to their helm and he hasn't the faintest idea on how to discipline them.

— But a part of him is relieved. An intimidation factor means that bots are less inclined to pick a fight with them and height plays a crucial role in that so at least his kid is safe from getting into too many fights… However, since they're his, it's likely that they're the one to start the fight.

— Unfortunately has to rely on his sparkling to get things from the top shelf. He's got a grimace while the sparkling is all smug about it.

Shockwave:

— Much like Soundwave, he is mostly indifferent to it. He doesn't even feel emotions to begin with, or so he claims. Shockwave thinks of this in a ‘pros & cons’ way. Logically.

— If you can pick him up, it's a miracle because he is a literal tank. He will be surprised and Shockwave will definitely be intrigued, he would want you on his examination table because that is not normal. While the slight fuzziness blooming in his spark is foreign, a part of him doesn't actually mind you carrying him at all. If anything, he finds it highly convenient because that means you can easily escort him out of an area quickly in a situation where he's severely injured himself.

— When it comes to what he really feels about it… he doesn't exactly like it. But it's mostly because he's not used it. However, once he does get used to it. He's going to be reading some or the other scientific journal as he's being piggy-back carried by you, it's a part of your exercise routine now.

— Shockwave, surprisingly, could have picked you up if he had both servos but unfortunately, he doesn't. If he did have both servos, he would be able to hoist you up for a while actually.

— One thing he does enjoy the most is the fact that this means he can make even more custom upgrades and mods for you since you might have a hard time finding any given you're not in any of the regular size classes. Shockwave enjoys making things for you.

— Also, this makes you the ideal lab assistant because you can just reach over and stretch to get things that Shockwave would need to walk and get. He likes that a lot.

— Now, the chances of Shockwave even having a sparkling is slim to none and if he did, 10/10 chance it was a lab accident. So things between the sparkling and him are already kind of awkward.

— He is very, very indifferent about his sparkling being taller than him at some point in their life, even if it's before they fully mature. If anything, he finds it to be an opportunity to study gigantism in Cybertronian sparklings. But a part of him, a very small part of him will miss the little hellspawn that would tinker around in his lab and mess with things. Mostly because he found it amusing. However, at least he doesn't need to clean up any messes in his lab anymore.

— I feel like Shockwave would stack up a ton of datapads on sparkling psychology and growth so he would be surprisingly prepared to deal with this.

Knockout:

— Knockout is foaming at the mouth, on all fours, optics popping out of his helm, howling at the moon, steaming from his vents and fanning himself. In short, he likes them strong and dangerous so out of everyone here, he is the happiest with an extremely tall s/o. He's got a thing for big and strong. Real heavy duty.

— Knockout would feel very, very cocky because his s/o is amazing and kinda scary in his optics and just like Starscream, it gives him scary dog privilege. Someone to run to if he messes up. I also feel like Knockout would be a flirtatious and smug iteration of a wife-guy. Someone could be talking about their partner and Knockout would go “Yeah but my s/o can-” *proceeds to say why you're better*

— Endless flirts directed at you as he's craning his helm up with a smirk to meet your gaze, Knockout doesn't mind. Besides, he's got something to soothe his neck at the med bay. So flirtatious, it'll get you absolutely flustered because you're basically the embodiment of his type.

— He's the happiest out of them all to be picked up. Public or not, Knockout really doesn't care. Hold him anyway you want to. He enjoys your servos on him, being in your embrace and the comfort of your EM field.

— Again, much like Starscream, he isn't going to even try and pick you up himself. He's happy in your servos. Knockout will let out a squeal just like Starscream if you sneak up on him though and he will give you a peace of his mind for that but he won't resist your embrace.

— Knockout having a sparkling is purely because he messed around a little too much and ended up having to be a parent.

— Knockout has absolutely no clue how to cope with his sparkling being bigger than him. He kinda can't even believe they're his internally for a moment because he does not have this sort of coding in any of his programming modules. Regardless, he would be trying his best and is actually pretty decent at taking care of a sparkling.

— He typically avoids sparklings but as a not really licensed medic, he's come across many so it's no big deal. But he does struggle at disciplining his sparkling. Knockout does miss it when they were just a tiny terror violently giggling, running around his medbay with all his tools in their little servos as the red race car had to chase them down while yelling at them. But now he’s breaking his neck here.