#rabot writes

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,

Sunstreaker’s sparkdamn digits are twitching and he’s clenching his fists hard enough to ache when his need of waiting for you to get with the program already hits a peak.

His maintenance and polishing efforts both came with the reward of your frame looking even better than before- Of course it did-! Sunstreaker knew what he was doing! But he didn’t think that would also come coupled together with his processor taking even more notice of you and your frame. And how you’d move, talk, and look that good like that, while still fragging not getting the obvious hints that Sunstreaker needed wanted you-!

He thinks he might just grab you the next time he sees you alone and drag you right back to his habsuite and show you exactly how lucky you were.

Sunstreaker can feel his sparkdamn engine running hot enough it's audible as he stomps his way to the washracks after the battle. The thrill of the fight still pumping in his fuel lines and from being slagged off over the sparkdamm decpticreeps ruining his finish with mud!

He barges into the empty wash racks and is so mad he just picked a rack in the back. And he scrubs and scrubs. He Ignores whoever decided to turn on the shower right next to him. He's clean of the outer layer of muck and his paint was-

He jerks when a low groan of pleasure comes from right next to him.

And he looks right at you.

You sigh in obvious enjoyment and let the solvents spray over yourself- solvents covering and rolling down the gaps of your frame-

Sunstreaker’s battle mode switches on and it’s a blur of tight servos and sudden grappling and he's eventually got you pinned against one of the walls. Hot solvents running down the both of you. One of your legs had ended up over his pauldron during the scuffle- Fight him for it- whatever! Sunstreaker was done waiting!

He doesn't remember ripping your modesty panel open, or his digits in your valve, but he does remember bottoming out inside you almost immediately. Digits clamped firm around the dips in your hips as he curses while your valve flutters around him. Your digits digging into his own frame tight enough it aches isn’t enough to stop Sunstreaker from picking an unforgiving pace.

You could only cry out when he started slamming himself back inside you again and again. Primus, you shouldn’t feel this good-! Your valve squeezes down on him and Sunstreaker grits his denta and grabs your jaw before yanking your mouth against his own. Your denta knock against his own and it stings, but not nearly as much as your digits do. His glossia presses against your own trying to get everything out of you he can- every sound, every gasp, every nip of your denta. You bite him back roughly and he tastes his own energon. His engine revs hard enough his entire chassis vibrates against your own.

You whine against him when he suddenly stops on his next trip bottoming out to grind his pelvis against your own- your pede almost slips out underneath yourself on the solvent still running over the both of you. So Sunstreaker just grabs your thigh and hefts your other leg up in his grip. Your dermas break apart and your back slides against the wall with a harsher sound of your metal against it. You curse and scramble for a better hold onto his frame at the complete weight shift- And the solvent makes you both go slipping and falling against one another against and down the wall.

Sunstreaker’s knees hit the ground and you hiss in a vent but Sunstreaker just pushes forward to press you fully back against the wall he has you trapped against.

Your pedes are almost to your pauldrons the way he’s forcing you to bend and you say his designation-! Sunstreaker doesn’t wait to hear what you might have said- too worried about more important things. Like how your valve is even wetter than before while taking his spike and how good you sound moaning his designation. His hips snap, picking right back up to his original pace- making you say his designation over and over, while your frames ground against each other with each thrust. Sunstreaker knew your paints were rubbing on him- That his yellow was bleeding right into your own colors-!

And Sunstreaker suddenly doesn’t think he’s going to let you buff it out afterwards.

Mark you-! Make it clear who was fragging you senseless enough that your paints were mixing together in an uncoordinated mess. Mixing together sloppy like how your lubricant is mixing with his own-! Slipping down his own array and frame every time he bottomed back out inside you. Your expression a filthy fragging sight, when you looked like you were obviously about to overload right on his spike. Sunstreaker growls at the image and rushes forward to lock you into another smothering kiss. He swallows down the muffled groan out of you when one of his servos finds your spike and he jerks you off rapidly as his pace turns uncoordinated.

His overload hits him so hard Sunstreaker feels like one of his spark plugs might’ve just popped loose. At least it feels like it when his engines practically roaring in his own audials. You bite down on him and fold against him while your spike throbs in his servo. And Sunstreaker wants to fragging drown you in his em field when yours finally starts pushing back against his own.

When he breaks the kiss you’re both venting harsh and Sunstreaker can already see his yellow streaked against your chassis. Your own colors marking him just the same.

Any ounce of the pristine effort Sunstreaker had busted his aft to ensure of your paint job was practically an after thought now. The solvent makes some of your own transfuild start running down your frame and your twitching spike. Expression thoroughly fragged out of it and you looked like you were struggling to even think.

You’re a fragging mess.

Sunstreaker actually feels his engine start to purr at the sight of you. Of what he fragging did to you.

And Sunstreaker suddenly thinks he hasn’t ruined your paint job nearly enough for as long as you’ve been making him work for this.

You saying his designation so out of it, only makes his spark jump in excitement and his spike to throb inside you. You grunt and Sunstreaker just gets a proper grip back onto your frame so he can bottom right back out inside you again. You clawing the paint right off his sides with a grunt only makes him more heated.

Sunstreaker wasn’t going to stop until he knew his yellow wasn’t going to be coming out of your frame without a serious repaint!

(Now Mirage might be later in this list but unfortunately it turns out he cannot keep himself out of your habsuite.)

Mirage knows very well he shouldn't be doing this. Mirage isn't some- filthy pervert-! He's just... worried! Concerned! You've been so- tantalizing as of late, Mirage knows very well some of the other mechs in The Ark could possibly take advantage of you! He's simply checking in on you.

And he's certainly right to do so, because you'd left the door to your habsuite unlocked. Completely and utterly up for anybody on The Ark to walk in and snoop. Or take something of yours- and if you were here when that happened, then what could they have done to you!? It's good he can stop it. Good he can prevent anyone from getting any dastardly ideas or anything else of the sort.

But then you return before he can make his own exit and you do at least lock the door behind yourself… Which locked him in with you.

Mirage didn't allow himself to... shadow you like this with his outlier ability activated very often. (Because he's not some dastard degenerate!) But he's here… and so are you and he can't exactly leave now without you noticing.

So instead he watches you sit on your berth and Mirage waits.

He can't exactly do much else now can he-

Mirage almost gives himself away then and there when you abruptly snap your modesty panel back.

Your array is- active already. Very active.

Your own spike pressurizing is enough to make you audibly sigh in relief. Mirage swallows so loudly at the sight he's genuinely shocked you didn’t realize he was there. You do look in his direction- but after a few astroseconds you dismiss it, not seeing a thing out of place. Mirage preemptively puts his own servo over his faceplate in case he cannot stop himself soon enough again. His optics running over the detailing on your array- (And maybe- maybe he ends up unconsciously moving closer.)

So Mirage watches you shuffle through your things and- almost gives himself away again when you pull out a false spike. Then he watches you spread your thighs apart and line the toys tip up with your valve.

Mirage has to smother down the sound begging for exit at his intake when you take the toy down to base in one go.

Primus-!

Your valve continues to take the toy every single time you’d push it back inside yourself. Mesh and hole obediently accommodating to take it down to base every single time. The obscene amount of lubricant you were producing made the task look laughably easy. His array was already waking up when you pulled your panel back- now his own thighs are twitching inward over the amount of charge steadily building the longer he watches you desecrate yourself.

Mirage’s own array is throbbing behind his panelby the time you're panting. Languidly thrusting the toy in and out of your own hole, completely unaware of what you were doing to him.

You eventually pull the false spike out- lubricant all over the thing and your own valve mesh. Valve fluttering over nothing for a klick- utterly empty (but practically begging for spike-!). You instead roll onto your side to focus on your spike with your free servo moving to start stroking over your frame sensually.

Mirage’s optics unwillingly zero in onto the back of your valve- inner thighs practically soaked in your own valve lubricant.

Mirage swallows again-

And he suddenly finds he cannot stop his frame from acting on its own.

Mirage had- Mirage had gotten behind you on your own berth, settling on his own side- before burying himself against the back of your frame and pressing a servo over your mouth in one motion. You jolted in surprise, his other servo hooking underneath your knee juncture and pushing it upwards.

A muffled sound of utter shock hums against his palm when he pushes his spike into your waiting valve. Replacing the false spike just as easily.

He doesn’t even hesitate before he starts thrusting proper.

This is wrong- this is wrong-! Mirage was better than this! He's so much better than this. But- you squeezing down on him further only makes him pick up his tempo. You- you're so pent up that you were dripping your own pre lubricants on the inside of your own modesty panel! You hadn't even touched yourself before any of that activity had taken place in your array. You were desperate, bucking against the inadequate interface toy and your own servos.

Mirage was just- you just needed some assistance-! That's all this was! (Mirage unfortunately can't delude himself enough into genuinely believing the fabrication.) You were barely struggling against him-! Instead taking his spike everytime. You feel perfect-!

Making all that muffled noise behind his servo- He desperately wants to pull it away to hear you. Hear what sounds you make for him when his spike bottoms out in you so roughly. But he's also terrified of what you may very well say. Mirage doesn't believe he'd be able to control himself enough to actually stop if you'd asked him to right now-!

Mirage’s digit pads squeeze tighter against the under of your thigh he still has hiked upwards, and he starts snapping his hips quicker. Your valve aroused enough- you're aroused enough, that it takes his harsher treatment with no protests. (Protests no doubt on your glossia instead. Mirage knows they're there- he knows-!)

A muffled noise sounds out of your throat when Mirage must strike your ceiling node on his next thrust forward. And Mirage can’t stop himself from hoisting your thigh further upwards and burying his frame closer against your back. Almost as if he can somehow get even closer to you then before.

Your digits dig into his arm unforgivably tight. But still he only huffs and gasps; your designation tumbling out of his mouth.

Mirage doesn't bother trying to restrain himself to stay silent anymore- why would he!? You wouldn't think the invisible mech spiking you unforgivably from behind could possibly be anybody other than himself! Your noises keep catching against his servo and picking up to the point every jump of his hips forces another sound out of you. His invisibility flicks off and he becomes tangible again when you claw some of his paint right off of his gauntlet.

Your valve squeezes down on him and you overload with a sharp muffled cry, spike spilling transfluid onto your own berth. Your spinal strut arching (away from him-), and your plating clamps down on itself. Your grip on his arm might have your entire servo print dented into it at this point-! Mirage wants to know-needs to know what you sound like- but he can't face what he's done yet-! (What he's still doing-!)

So instead he drags you back closer against his chassis and makes sure his servo won't slip away from your mouth before he starts bucking into you with a wild abandon. Each rough meeting of your aft with his pelvis makes you only louder behind his palm. You’re so aroused from just both your lubricants it sounds as if he’d already overloaded inside you!

Mirage grits his denta together harshly, before bottoming out and keeping his hold on you tight. His overload washes over him hard enough his audials are left ringing. Each pump of his spike spilling more of his transfluid into you. You’re left making repeated sounds against him while he overloads inside of you- Valve squeezing down on him periodically, which he knows only makes his transfliud slip deeper inside your valve! Mirage has to abort a whine when it escapes his intake at the thought- so loud and disgraceful it makes his plating tighten back down on itself in mortification.

By the time he relaxes again he's left venting and your valves throbbing around his spike. He finally forces his servo to pull away from your mouth and you gasp in greedy vents. The air fogging from the heat of it, and your optics so so bright. Mirage can feel his spike throb inside you when his designation falls out of your disheveled self and his hips end up bucking up instinctively once more. You grunt and curse and squeeze down on him- and Mirage decides if he's going to face what he's done regardless, he's not going to stop at the single round-!

There wasn't a reason to try and control himself now was there-? He's already ruined everything! Mirage might as well enjoy you while he still can-! His designation falling out of your derma again when Mirage moves only makes him thrust harder after. You latch your servos back onto him tight and moan- which sends another hot volt of charge right into his array.

Mirage still needed to hear your voice while you were overloading on his spike.

Mirage was going to satisfy your frame enough that you won’t be walking around The Ark with your array begging for satisfaction ever again.

Hound doesn’t know if he can keep himself together for much longer. After he'd stolen your cleaning cloth he'd used it day after day till your scent wore out of it. Eventually he managed to look you in the optics again. And Hound was faced by the fact that something was very wrong with him in regards to you. Every touch, glance, and brush of your frame by his own had heat building in his array near immediately in response to it. It was like every little movement of your frame was suddenly provocative.

Hound knows he shouldn't have indulged in your dirty cleaning cloth! The perverted fantasies had only made him worse!

You're both doing some basic inventory sorting together on the ark. (Hound already fighting to continue to be normal while alone with you.). Then the extra gear shift you're holding slips out of your servo and goes rolling right underneath a panel gap in one of the Arks walls. You curse and go after it, Hound watches you go before he looks down to type what he needs to on the datapad wondering if he should offer to help or not.

Hound glances up at you and almost drops the datapad right onto the floor.

You had gotten on your knees and servos to try and get the small equipment out of where it had rolled. Your aft up in the air and modesty panel visible to Hound. You back up about your arms length away from the wall and drop your helm- obviously trying to see where it had gone. But all Hound can see is the gap where the manual release on your modesty panel is.

Hound wordlessly puts the datapad down and walks over, getting on his own knees behind you- because Hound was going to help you get the gear shift-!

But next thing Hound knows he had grasped your hips from behind and dragged you backwards. Yanking your manual release and spiking you right there in the inventory room. You felt so good around him he also couldn’t help the way his hips rut sharply.

Now Hound's got his helm buried against your back or neck cables. (or leaning over you if he's that much bigger than you) But regardless his servos are latched onto your hips. Hound’s huffing and puffing against your metal. His own vents so heated from the burning warmth in his frame- your metals now got condensation fogging where he's against. It drips down your frame and you’re gasping and huffing. His spike almost bottoming out. His spike modification preventing him from being fully inside of you-! Primus he's loosing it! He can't help it-! Please please be okay taking it- taking him-!

When his modification hits the mesh of your valve again Hound yanks you backwards with a muttered repeated gasps of "Sorry-!” when he hears the noise of shock out of you. But his knot gets half way through and then slides the rest of the way in with a quick pop. His pelvis bumps into the back of your aft and Hound bites down on you. Hound groans so loud he's sure you can feel the sound vibrate against where he's sinking his denta into you. You shudder and Hound can feel your knees wanna start sliding but his knot catches slightly on your hole. It starts pulling out of you-!

Hound pulls back, his knot catching lightly on your hole but it still pops out when Hound jerks. You're huffing and the plating on your back plates are shuffling up.

Hound relaxed his jaw and he laps a greedy strip along the condensation he'd built up on your metal. Hound can't help the moan that spills out of him while he's tasting you and huffing in your own natural scent.

You grunt and suck in a sharp vent, when Hound forcibly pushes his knot back into you again. And Hound doesn't stop his practically abusing of your hole. He’s sorry-! He’s so sorry! The apologies die in his own throat when he groans over how good you feel. He wants to stop-! (He doesn’t.) He swears! He swears-!

A strangled noise escaping you only had Hound slamming into you quicker- Hound popping his knot back into your valve easier and easier every time he pushed and pulled it back out of you in between his hurried thrusts. The sloppy sound of your valve taking his knot again and again- His pelvis starts smacking against your aft audibly in his hurried thrusts.

Primus-!

Hound keeps muttering your designation again and again; the sound practically falling out of his mouth every push and pull of his knot. He can’t stop-! He can’t.

Hound then pulled up from where he was nestled flat against your back. Because he needs a better leverage angle!

Hound frame leers over your own and he grips his digits between the gap between your pelvis and your thigh armor. You groaned loudly in response to the sensitive wires and seams being bumped by the tips of his digits-! He needs more of you-! Hound bottoms out one last time, knot slipping inside you, and Hound ends up overloading the hardest he has in vorns. His mouth falls open and a long drawn out groan that makes his spark hum loud, falls out of it. His knot throbs along with his spike- having inflated and promptly locking his spike inside you.

By the time his knot deflates after a few klicks, your face is in your own gauntlets by the ground.

You’re both panting and both of your platings shuddering almost audibly. Hound bites his bottom derma but that still doesn't end up muffling his moan when he pulls out of you. A raspy sharp noise sounds out of you when his knot pulls your hole open again. But your valve finally let's go with a wet pop, the rest of his spike sliding out along with.

Hound straightens his back out so he's not leaning over you finally and he catches sight of your soaking wet valve that's now spilling his transfluid out onto the floor. Your spent spikes still twitching under you. Your own transfluid from your spike ends up getting muddled together with Hound's own when it keeps spilling out of you.

Hound whines and his spike twitches in interest again.

He just- Hound needed just another round or two to make sure his modesty panel will close correctly. Hound can see your own spike is still hard and ready to go. And Hound couldn't simply leave you like this-!

Hound Lined himself back up and gasped when he slid his spike back home- you’re clawing and flexing against the ground at the treatment.

Hound can’t help the way his engine revs when you say his designation like that. Nor can he stop himself from rutting forward with more vigor.

It’s an arduous and near impossible task for Skyfire to end up surviving this long but he does.

He does his job- he flys, he transports- he does his occasional experiments. And he just knows something bad may just end up happening (That he might do something horrible-!).

Skyfire- Skyfire didn’t know what was wrong with himself and his growing- obsession with you. Every glance, every move, every shift of your plating had Skyfire fighting to act properly! It had gotten to the point Skyfire even had Perceptor examine him and nothing came back amiss. Nothing.

But nothing wasn’t what was driving his digits to twitch and his thoughts to wander so wildly- so dirty-! It was you and Skyfire knows he can’t blame you- (You didn’t know. You didn’t know!)

He’s in the lab- trying to research earth marine mammals because of something Chip had said that sparked his interest. And you come in, ask him where something was- (he can’t even recall what it was initially!). But it was on one of the top storage shelves lining the wall. Skyfire doesn’t even allow himself to turn around and face you when informing you where it was.

But he can’t help snapping his helm in your direction when you ask for his help.

The item was just barely out of your reach. So Skyfire clenches his servos and walks over. You stay in your place directly under the item and Skyfire simply got slightly closer. And he reached-

His optics snap downwards when your em field drags warmly over his front due to proximity. You’re staring up at him watching, waiting-. Your frame close enough Skyfire can feel you regardless of the lack of direct contact.

And then Skyfire does something horrible.

Skyfire’s servo abandons the item back in place on it’s shelf.

And instead his servos fly onto your frame instead. You gasp at his sudden touch and say his designation in confusion. And Skyfire can’t stop himself- he can’t- he can’t-!

He’d found your manual release on your array (His digits almost too large to even catch onto it correctly-!) and pulled it and-

Now Skyfire’s here apologizing.

He’s cooing, and his em field is brushing down the ruffled up plating on your frame. And now almost half his spike is sitting heavy inside your poor valve! You weren’t even his size class-! Oh, Primus, why did he do this-!? A shaky moan tumbles out of your mouth and his plating quivers. His spike throbs inside you when you make an almost sinful sound and Skyfire can feel the more coherent part of his processor forcibly shutting down.

So Skyfire swallows down the lump in his throat because you’re so sweet-! You sound so sweet. You feel fantastic! His servos on your hips squeeze for some type of tether. Tether to keep him here and not lose himself in the sensation- in the sensation of you and force you to take even more of his feelings for you-!

Your em field presses back against his own and you whine. He can spot your own now pressurized spike starting to bead pre lubricant-

And you’re cute and perfect-!

Skyfire tries and fails to bite back a whine of his own all before he pushes forward again. Your spinal strut arches further and a sharp sound of alarm comes from you. Your servos scrambling- One finds its hold on one of the shelves, the other gripping his wrist tight enough your digit pads would certainly be left behind. (He wants that-! Skyfire wants that so badly. Skyfire needs to be marked as yours!) Half his spike does slide into your valve and Skyfire forces his hips to stop. He didn’t want to hurt you! Didn’t-

You unsteadily manage to stutter out his designation. And his optics snap wide and again he can’t- he can’t-! “I’m sorry-! I’m sorry-!” His hips pull back and his spike forces you back open yet again- and Skyfire is still a slave to his terrible desires so he doesn’t stop once he starts.

At some point, the apologies falling out of his mouth end up becoming praise. “So good! Doing such a good job!” You're being too good for him-! Taking his spike and all his overwhelming affections without any complaints-!

You’re left taking everything Skyfire is forcing on you- his em field trying to make up for every rough bounce. His servos squeezing and threatening to mark you back with his own prints. His indefeasible apologies- And his spike sliding back into your valve and smacking up against your deeper pleasure nodes. Skyfire can tell when your frame flexes in his grip and you choke on your own voice. You’re taking him so well-!

You’re gasping and mewling at this point, clenching down on him to no avail, Skyfire still just forcibly dragging you backwards to meet his own relentless pace. Skyfire’s helm is foggy and he bites down on his bottom derma so he doesn’t get any louder-! He still keens when you groan richly as his spike hits what must be your ceiling node the right way. Your valves a mess of his and your own pre lubricants and you’re saying his designation and begging-!

Skyfire grits his denta and grips your waist firm enough he knows he’s marked you and slams himself inside you in quick desperate bucks- and Skyfire groans loudly when he overloads. You follow right after him squirming in his hold and squeezing down on him- And Skyfire may overheat-!

By the time his overload finishes Skyfire finally slacks and pants in heavy deep vents. You’re quivering slightly in his grasp and your transfluid is splattered all over one of the shelf’s and the contents on it. While his own is spilling down his and your thighs and dripping onto the ground-! Skyfire has to pull out of you- But he’s a touch busy murmuring apologies while trying to soothe the dents he’d left on your waist. Even though the urge to continue bouncing you up and down his spike wasn’t diminished in the slightest. The small used sounded out of you only make him feel even worse-

But it’s not only shame that builds back up inside himself under the sight of your disheveled state.

He still vents deep before forcing himself to start pulling back out of you- You keen and flex in his grip when his spike slowly drags back out along your pleasure nodes and overworked valve. You groan somwhere deep from your frame- and Skyfire has to bolt himself in place so he doesn’t end up forcing you to take the entirely of his spike in one forceful push back forward.

Forget harming you, he may just out right break you if he does that-!

The filthy thought of staying buried inside you long enough your valve adjusts to only be satisfied with his spike has his thighs tighten down so he doesn’t even entertain the perverted thought.

However Skyfire’s spike sinking a fraction deeper into you with his transfluid acting as extra lubricant certainly doesn't help him in fighting that urge any.

(On the flip side heres a mech that actually makes it to top five on keeping themselves together in the face of this particular advisory.)

There’s running on fumes and running on empty when it comes to missions. And right now Jazz felt like he was running on empty. Well not empty- but what he was running on wasn’t helping what he very very much needed to avoid thinking of- avoid doing. Maybe it was his little video he’d taken of you, His new prized possession of you taking care of your sweet self in that little hide away of The Arks hallway.

But after it Jazz starts noticing all sorts of things about ya- like the way your plating would ease when you thought no one was looking (Showing off seams begging to be touched-). The way your servo would drag when you touched him like you were second guessing if you even wanted to let him go (baby, don’t think about it- Touch him properly finally and he’ll never let you think about it again.)

It gets to the point Jazz starts thinking you might even be goading him on purpose.

But Jazz knows his strengths and weaknesses and he knows you’re his biggest weakness. He can’t let it cloud his judgments and ruin the relationship he even had with you now. So Jazz fists his servos and forces his struts to lock in place when he notices how good you look and how close you happened to be- And he instead records through his visor. And now he’s been combining the videos he has saved with the audio of you overloading in the hallway thinking you were alone. It helps a bit, but he can feel whats gripping his spark only windin’ tighter and tighter-

His spark finally pops free of the iron grip he’d had on it the entire time when he’s in your habsuite- You invited him when he mentioned he had a couple new tunes he really liked- and could show you if you wanted. You had a make shift couch made outta concrete in front of a short table in there and you were sitting by him- close enough Jazz could feel your em field curiously ghosting against the edge of his own- and Jazz already knows he’s playing a dangerous game.

And then you stand and bent over the short table to grab the cube you’d left over by a shelf across before you’d both settled in- And Jazz is greeted to your aft almost directly in his face. He can’t just see your modesty panel, he can see the lining of your modesty panel.

But what makes his spark finally slam free is your leg shifting just a bit so you can reach your cube properly. And your pede and leg end up pressing up against the side of his own. And its like a volt of energy shoots right up his leg and into his processor before he can even realize what’s happening.

And his servos snap out and grab to yank you until you re falling back and in his lap and against his front- and his digits are digging into your manual release- Jazz manages to barely get enough of himself back under control to ask if this was fine when his digit pads were already pressed firm into the detail of your manual release- (Baby please be okay- please be okay with him wanting ya-!).

Jazz actually getting that consent from you before he ruins the entire operation only makes his own panel snap back before he even finishes getting yours open. Because Sparkdamn you want him- you want him! You want him-! His spark feels like its about to burn a hole in his chassis when he gets his digits inside of you. You letting him touch you- You letting him just do this had his array dripping with pre lubricants. Jazz turns his audials as high as they can go so he hears every little even slight sound out of ya- And all it takes is one proper saying of his designation and he’s pulling his digits out and biting down his bottom derma.

You get your own thighs under yourself and Jazz grips your hips to guide his array to slot up with yours right- And Jazz groans when you let him drag you downwards to bottom out inside of ya. Primus, baby, you two haven’t even started and you already got him feeling like he’s gonna offline here. Jazz’s imagination ain’t nothing compared to how you feel taking his spike just right.

You actually end up taking initiative before he can- just an astrosecond quicker though. You pull upwards on your own thighs and Jazz ends up bucking upwards halfway through the process- making him bottom back out quick. Jazz moans when you squeeze down on him. “Doing- Doing great sweetspark.” You were already scrambling his systems real easy like. Jazz runs his optics over your back plating making sure to get a good look at everything so his recording of this would be remembered in more than just his fragging struts.

Jazz is meeting every bounce of your hips as well as he can anyway based on your position. The gravity pulling your pelvis back down. Every hot slide back up his spike almost as urging as Jazz’s own servos. Digits digging into the armor of your hips- trying to get a better leverage to have you taking more of him faster- The tempo dissolves into a needy and hurried one. Quick but it’s still not enough for him- Not enough to quiet the demanding want that’s been bubbling up under his plating for who knows how long.

Your lubricant from you sitting in his lap is rolling down jazz’s own thighs- His own valve slick rolling down to join it where its staining his inner thighs. You still take him sweet- almost as sweet as your sounds. Delicious but also still what Jazz would label as controlled. And that just wasn’t gonna fly for him- especially right now.

Jazz needed more from ya baby!

Jazz ends up hooking his servos under your thighs before he all but shoves you forward and you curse and land on your short table on your gauntlets- aft up and asking him what the pit that was over your pauldron.

All before Jazz follows after you, grabbing you by your hips and buries his spike back down to base into your valve from behind. And Jazz starts putting everything he’s had for ya kept under wraps right into pounding you. You curse when his impatient pace has you scrambling to grab the edge of the table for stability. And it helps- You squeezing down on him- being deeper inside of ya and being able to make you louder if he thrusts the right way. Primus, Jazz’s own point of view is making him feel like he’s pounding till you won’t forget him. So maybe you’d remember this just as easy even if you didn’t have your own recording of it.

You’re valves hot and treating him just right- But Jazz still needed you better. He knew he could get you louder! He knew-!

One of Jazz’s pedes thunks up on the table besides you and Jazz uses it as better leverage to bury his spike even deeper into you. You almost howl when Jazz does it- Frame flexing underneath him and valve squeezing down in him in delight. And Jazz grins while his engine revs loud- because that’s what he needs-! That’s what he needs from ya baby! His next vent is so heavy and heated it has his chassis shaking a bit when it leaves him all before he keeps pounding right into you.

Jazz can practically feel himself slamming into your celiing node on his thrusts back inside you and his sparks slamming into his spark chamber every time along with it. Or maybe that’s the sound of your table rocking every time he bottoms back out inside ya. But you sound so good taking him like this Jazz just keeps going. You were too good to him-! Taking him so good-!

His rhythm degrading quick when you just start saying his designation like that again and again-! Jazz’s servo ends up latching onto your upper frame as he thrusts start getting sloppy. Jazz overloads and he can’t stop slamming into ya- But by the way your gasping only makes him glad he’s fragging you through it. His own servo reaching around and finding your spike to milk through it too makes Jazz think he might have to have the sound you make in response grafted right into his main frame.

His hips slow eventually and Jazz feels like he’s gonna slip down somewhere deep in his own data banks and maybe not come out of it. Your holes a mess of his transfluid- spilling down and on your table from his own enthusiasm. His own frame very uppity on the fact he’d just put that much effort into railing you into your own table. HUD giving him warnings about turning his own fans higher and Jazz just laughs huffy. He turns them higher and watches your own servos twitch against the tables edge you’re still gripping like a lifeline.

Then Jazz almost completely pulls out of you- making sure to focus in on your valve still fluttering around him. And how more of his transfluid starts spilling out of your valve. Your own spike twitching beneath you heavy, pressing against your only table and the small puddle of transfluid there. Before he slides back home with a purpose. Loving the way you sound for him when he does it.

Jazz had a good- ah, he didn’t know- a couple gigs of data worth of recording space open in his saved recordings slots. And baby he’s so sparkdamn happy you’re willing to help him fill them.

Divider credits: @/cafekitsune,

Knock Out was beginning to believe you may have been put on this miserable planet by Primus for the sole purpose of punishing him.

Really, how else was he supposed to assume otherwise when you have somehow still failed to understand that he was trying to court you!?

You weren't dimwitted enough you were completely daft. It simply just seemed to be flirtation that you didn't quite comprehend. Clearly otherwise you'd have accepted his advances at this point! You haven't even properly rejected him either, due again to your aforementioned blindness to romantic intent. (If he has to hear Breakdown badly fail to stifle a laugh watching your exchanges one more time, Knock Out was going to put credit into his own Designation- so help him.)

Oh, well. If suave subtly didn't quite make the cut on making you swoon then he'd simply have to take the opposite approach. One he'd started but slowly and rather devastatingly begun to understand you still misinterpreted his attempts at courting. It's beginning to reach the point that he's just short of bluntly shouting "go out on a date with me!". But it lacks class- and class was anything Knock Out lacked. So he continues with your confounded little game you had between one another.

He'd decided to attempt propositioning you as straight forward as he can. He'd said something along the lines of "Let me know if you'd like me to use my expertise to recalibrate your interface array. To give you max usage out of every ounce of charge you can manage." Frankly he doesn't remember it exactly because of how shocking your reply was.

You simply comprehended what he'd said before responding with a very blunt "Sorry, I don't got one."

And surely he must have misheard you- but no. You'd confirmed you actually did not have a traditional interface array installed.

He'd asked why (of course he had. Well, he'd be a touch disappointed if it wasn't exactly your style to overload like so. But Knock Out was versatile in more ways than one. He knew there were more than a few methods to get a bot to overload than just the common interface arrays.) But you'd brushed his shock off and said you'd just couldn't find the time or the shanix back on Cybertron. So you'd had to keep putting it off until the war kick started and you had much bigger things to worry about.

Knock Out had seen a golden opportunity.

And what kind of Decepticon would he be if he didn't take something sitting blatantly out in the open? Practically begging to be taken advantage of.

So he'd casually offered to install one for you.

You’d seemed surprised but just asked if he actually knew how to do that. Assuring you he'd done it more times he could count even before the war. Which was true.

Low and behold you'd accepted his oh so gracious offer.

Now you were here in his medbay online again, after he'd brought you back into the realm of consciousness with the initial installation complete. Now given war times Knock Out did have to settle for a simple and standard pair of equipment for you. Though he did his due diligence to make sure they were an exquisite standard spike and valve. Even making sure to add accents of your frame colors on your spike. And making your anterior node your primary color for just a touch of flare.

Your array was simply out and you'd sat up peering curiously down between your own thighs at the top of your new valve. Your spike in resting position and not out of your spike chamber just yet.

And now was the time for Knock Out to reap the sweet sweet benefits of his rewards for being oh, so charitable.

He'd moved the monitor he'd had on wheels closer before locking it in place. Now by your side and watching as you continued to examine what you could of his work. A small ghost of a smile found your derma and the sight made Knock Out reaffirm his own desires in his processor.

Primus, he was going to ruin you.

A promise not a lamination to be perfectly clear.

"Your array has been installed. Now, we move onto the fun part. We get to calibrate your array properly so it functions as it should and at the levels it should be. A..." Knockout tapped his claws against his own palm in quick thought "Test run so to say. Very standard for interface array installations." Which was not a lie. It was an important part of interface array installation. To test and make sure everything was functioning properly. Nothing more concerning than your valve not lubricating and not realizing till you're in the moment. Or your spike not pressuring correctly and being stuck with a rather painful malfunction.

He'd smiled at you "So we're going to make you overload."

You glanced from him to your valve. "Oh- Okay. I guess that makes sense." Wonderful.

"Yes, to make sure I don't send you off with a miscalibrated pleasure setting." Knock Out leaned forward a touch, his smile turning slightly sly and his optics glinting in what he was sure showed peeks of his own satisfaction. Before he'd let one of his digits point directly at your faceplate. Only a fraction of the space away from actually making contact. "We don't want you accidentally knocking yourself out and into stasis just from a little bit of self service." Accidentally is the key there. Knock Out thinks he could already see himself overstimulating you till you were incoherent when he had the proper chance.

Knock Out pulled his digit away when he'd seen you weren't very perturbed by the idea. Merely meeting his gaze again with no bashfulness. "I've had no problems overloading without an interface array. Is it that difficult to get right?" Oh, a bit of a shame admittedly. He'd half fantasized about giving you your first ever overload when you’d said you'd forgone the frame addition completely for so long. He'll have to settle for breaking your interface array in for you and giving you your first overload that way at the very least.

Though It did also supply him with the rather pretty image of you with your wires splayed out. Digits on your internals and arching into your own touch.

"Yes, it's a rather- delicate task. What with the sensitive equipment that's being installed and the settings it will be set to. As long as you know what you're doing when troubleshooting then it should be nothing to worry about. We just need to make sure everything works and to calibrate your pleasure feedback."

The confusion was clear on your faceplate. "What does that mean exactly?"

Knock Out placed a servo on his own chassis. "Well, I'll be checking to make sure your array is functional and up to par. And we'll be- experimenting to find the correct settings."

"Experimenting?"

"Yes yes, There's a- sweet spot so to speak. Not too sensitive and not too dull. Our job is to find it. And make sure it's the correct fit for charge feedback." Knockout gestured to the monitor by his side. "This will display your feedback levels in deph to show me how your frames registering the charge and pleasure. And I'll know how to adjust from there. We go till we find a... satisfactory calibration." He smiled knowing you didn't know any better to correct him so to say. He then tapped the side of his temple with a claw tip. "The controls are connected to my HUD for the time being so I won't have to pull away to manually adjust it."

Yes, the calibration was also actually a necessary step for interface installation.

Though in practice it's usually done with the patient self servicing. While the one installing watches the monitor with some type of privacy barrier between the two. It keeps an air of professionalism despite the activity.

Though Knockout would be very sure to be through when he did his personal examination.

Only the best for his future courted after all.

You simply looked down between your legs at your spike chamber for a moment. Knock Out took the opportunity to cozy on even closer to you. Dragging his chair the rest of the way over and sitting down. Servo rising to hover over your new array. You followed with your optics but didn't move. "May I?" Knock-out asked.

"Yeah. It's fine." You consented, optics finding his own as you did.

Oh, Knock Out was going to make sure you were perfectly functional.

He wiggled his digits lightly to get your attention back there instead "Now I have some... manufactured charge humming in my digits. To see how your array responds to it. Your frame will still register it as real charge, so don't panic." He waited until you gave a small nod before he'd finally closed the gap between you two. To slowly and softly dragged two digit pads down the curve of your valve. Sliding past your anterior node and against the part of your valve mesh. Making sure to use his digit pads and minding his claws. There was frankly nothing more unpleasant to Knock Out than a mech who didn't know how to manage their claws when they were using your valve.

Your hips jerked just a touch at the contact. No doubt from the charge hankering across his digits. Wound up from how many thoughts he's had rushing through his helm. He's gotten more than a touch frustrated with you. And he's rather lately begun fantasizing of more sultry means of getting his intentions across. Rather ironic he's going to be making a point to revisit them in his processor while he works on you. He was rather eager to see just how closely his assumptions lined up with reality.

How would you overload-? Are you loud when faced with charge? Do you whimper? Or are you the quieter type? Details, details.

He wasn't exactly shy when he'd slipped his digit pads between your valve mesh to press along the sides where your mesh became your actual entrance. Your calipers twitched at the contact but responded properly to the bit of charge gracing across his touch. He slowly dragged his touch upwards till he met your anterior node. His two digits parted and he pressed them on either side of your anterior node before gently pressing back. Making the small hood of it shift back along with, like it should. The charge feedback he received for his actions were minimal at best. Not exactly giving him a concise reading on how functional your array was.

(Though he sincerely doubted his own work was anything less than perhaps just slightly off. Nothing a slight fine tuning wouldn’t fix. Every frame was just slightly different on array installation. But he had a good enough optic to get things close to after doing it so many times over.)

Your noises were also rather chaste. Though he unfortunately couldn't tell if that was how you just were while interfacing. Or rather if you were holding yourself back as to not- embarrass yourself in front of your medic. Perhaps you’d do better with a touch of... encouragement. "You know it would help if you begun fantasizing on what usually helps you build charge." He offered the blatantly leading suggestion.

You just huffed a laugh. "You telling me you're prescribing me 'think dirty thoughts', doc?"

“Precisely" Knock Out pressed a digit pad down on the top of your anterior node. Before dragging a simple slide from the top and to the tip. He didn't miss how you'd twitched again, his smirk hiking into another sly smile when your optics met "Doctors orders."

You huffed again, seeming more so a touch exasperated. Mulling over the thought before quickly deciding on your next course of action. "...Fine. I'll think dirty thoughts then."

"Wonderful. Perhaps together with our powers combined we can achieve at least one proper overload." The light humor in his tone rewarded him with twitch of your derma. Yet another reward for his actions he gladly basked in before moving on. Little did you know the true humor of the sentiment...

Knock Out let his two digits fan apart and drag back down the sides of your entrance. Pressing were he knew the hidden pathway of the anterior node was essentially wired through. Your metal on your thighs clenched, hips even arching just a touch. Progress.

He'd wondered how much quicker he could get charge humming through your own array if he we're using his glossia instead of his digits. Though he knew he would get a much better reward, if he'd waited until your array properly synced with your frame and systems.

There were plenty of benefits to being a medic (Even along the obvious downsides in a war.). One of them was the fact a medic's frame was so compatible with so many higher sense based modifications. Better scanners, better dexterity in servos, and easy ways to register minerals to name a few. And something only medics seemed to be privy too, was that there was a touch of a flavor difference in a bots array. Their lubricant and transfluid that should be universal when absent of flavor based modifications. Though some of it is dictated by minerals in your system. A baseline flavor is always something that's ever so slightly different depending on the bot in question.

Knock Out was positively dying to know what you ended up tasting like.

Small charge begun humming across his digits in response to his chaste petting. From you this time not all him. His digit pads passing over your entrance before traveling back upwards to meet your anterior node again. Finding everything as malleable as it should be he slide his digits back down on your mesh. "Testing insertion capabilities." Was his warning before he slide his two digits halfway inside of your valve.

You jolted a touch- actually squeezing down on him until you relaxed a moment afterwards. "Internal temperature is normal" Another muse aloud more so for you than him. His other servo found the curve of your hip plating to grab before he'd pushed his two digits the rest of the way inside down to his knuckle dividends. Your walls flexed on him again instinctively- at least presumably instinctively. He did wait a moment to see if it repeated but you relaxed once more. Not a glitch then, Wonderful. Working as should be.

He curled his digits- feeling the texture of your walls minding the claws again- and noting what he knew was the edge of a pleasure node just barely in place for him to bother with his digit pads. Your hip jolted against his servo when he did just that. An airy vent hissing out of your mouth. Your optics beginning to hum a brighter setting than they should be regularly. "Pleasure nodes functional." After he droned it aloud Knock Out pulled his digits back to thrust them back inside of you. He glanced at the readings on the monitor when charge hummed against his palm. "Hm. It seems I may have actually set you a touch lower than it should have on sensitivity."

Well, he should rectify that immediately now shouldn’t he?

"Adjusting sensitivity feedback just a touch higher." He bumped the setting a level higher then they would be normally in a mech. The result was near instantaneous.

Your frame arched just a touch before your aft landed back on the medical slab. A stuttering noise escaping out of your throat. Before you'd grit your denta and swallowed down the start of another one. Gasping and venting after the sound went back down. "Better." Knockout smirked and moved to start languidly thrusting his digits in and out of your valve. You flexing and squeezing down on him every time he'd bottomed them back out again.

He watched your spike tip quickly start to pressurize under the charge now building between the both of you. Pressurizing fully in a klicks time and twitching now every time his digits thrust back inside you. "Ah, Spike pressurized successful." With that he let his other servo leave your hip to fan over the length of your spike. Your plating tensing before shivering on his savoring drag upwards. Your spike begun beading pre lubricant before he'd even grabbed you properly. He smothered a chuckle knowing it wouldn't quite be appreciated. Especially considering the position he'd had you in.

Instead he'd properly let himself grab your spike- enjoying the grit of your denta and the clenching of your jaw the act brought.

And maybe he timed it so your pleasure sensitivity bumped up another level higher when he did just so.

The next noise out of you was almost what he'd qualify as a whine. Tapering off and replaced by more huffing and gasping. Your optics brighter noticeably so at this point. He pumped your spike, enjoying the tense of your frame each time it happened. His digit pads rubbing along the sections of your spike each pump back up. The charge brushing up along his servos and slipping between his own plating there. Threatening to travel up his struts in his arm and find his chassis with a vengeance. His optics darting back downwards at your lubricating array before he both sped up a touch and begun jerking your spike off in time with the tempo. Already pressing down the urge to lean downwards to drag his glossia flat from your spike chamber to your tip.

"Lubrication has activated as should." His tone was tinted at the edges with his own arousal shining through just a touch. Something he knew you wouldn't know how to place when you'd hadn't heard it yourself till just now. The obvious distinction on his own audials clear as day to himself. Especially when he had to put considerable effort not to allow his tone to become fully husky for the duration of this rather delightful medical malpractice. His own engine threatening to revv when another delicious sound slipped out of you before you could stop it.

You're so very sweet for him. Knock Out was feeling charge hunker down in his own array. Zipping along the edges of his pelvic plating the longer you'd steadily become more and more undone in front of him. Having to restrain himself from leaving his seat to stand and cozy himself up against your frame as well as he could. To get an even closer look at the still admittedly controlled changes in your frame and faceplate. A part of him wanting to even lock derma with you to see what else he could work out of you with his glossia.

But he knew he should look and not touch where he couldn't quite fabricate a believable lie for.

So he settled for speeding up again and reveling in the sultry sound echoing out of your chassis- a moan.

Every meager reaction of yours only emboldened him to pull every ounce of charge out of you. Every slight shift in expression or slight audible sound. There was an insistence in his own chassis that only propelled him further. There was a very real urge to pull you apart and expose every little delicate internal of your make up. Having himself consider using his circular saw to open you up right down the middle. Simply so he'd have a smoother time burying his servo right through your metal to grab your spark and physically claim it for himself. With a precision that left no room for apprehension or unease.

Don't fret or worry that pretty helm of yours.

He'd be gentle.

...If he genuinely gave the the urge any serious thought anyway. But like many things it was quite the riveting fantasy.

The charge bouncing along his servos was steadily becoming unruly. His appetite and subsequential craving for you draped across his plates like a new coat of paint. Sinking between the gaps and promising to devour him whole lest he ignore them. The urge to pull apart your plating reappearing, but he'll settle for pulling you apart a different way.

Knock Out bumped the pleasure setting up much higher than was necessary. Skipping levels entirely just to cut the line and find the levels of over stimulation he was craving to push onto you.

You arched off the medical slab in a clean curve. Your fist shoved against your own mouth quickly before you'd bitten into your own knuckles. A bitten off half muffled cry jutting sharply out of you. Frame dropping down again, while your other servo gripped the edge of the medical slab harshly enough you'd immediately begun denting your imprint into it. Quick gasping and desperate fits of vents slipping out of your mouth and denta between the continued trial he set your frame to endure.

"Sweet spot." Knock-out droned aloud, not bothering to hide the delight in his words. Watching you practically lock up on the medical slab so you wouldn't writhe. Plating taunt and jittering just slightly when the charge output edged higher than you quite literally knew what to do with.

"My my, So pent up over a little bit of attention." He leaned a touch closer, unable to resist the urge to at least tease you just a touch when you were already so thoroughly put out of it. Each shift of his servos now causing a slightly sticky sound. Array lubricating as you twitched and throbbed against his digits. Charge pulsing and jumping with your em field in a short act. The telltale sign of an overload rapidly approaching.

"Oh dear, Going to overload from a standard medical procedure-?" A quick sound of what could be read as objection came from you- your optics snapping from his servos to him. Your optics bright enough they were tinting your faceplate a touch. Denta still latched onto your own servo- quick sounds still slipping out of your mouth regardless. What he could grasp as disbelief peeked through the utterly delectable show of your struggling state.

"Of course you should, that's our goal here- But you're soaking wet here" Knock Out shoved his digits further into your valve for emphasis. "And leaking like a broken pipe all over your own chassis-" he Jerked your spike faster and watched more of your pre lubricant spill out onto your plating. "Maybe the sensitivity is set too high." Knock Out tutted audibly "We'll more than likely need to perform more than one test run."

He than wordlessly set your sensitivity even higher than before.

A whine did actually sound out of you this time. Em field jumping and you ripping your own fist out of your mouth when your helm slammed backwards against the medical slab. Exposing the gaps of your throat were he could physically see parts clenching up through the dividends. "Knock Out-!"

The sound of you calling out for him when you'd sounded as luscious as you did made him have to bite back an engine growl. The sound instead materializing as a low engine purr from the back of his throat. Something you wouldn’t hear unless the room was quiet. And right now it was anything but. With you now cursing rapidly and repeatedly when your array throbbed against his servos and you begun overloading right in front of him.

Valve squeezing down on his digits and spike throbbing- shooting a thick helping of transfluid out onto the front of your chassis. The particular shade it was cutting strips in the color of your paint. Your plating was clenched and Knock Out could feel the charge zap up his own arms from how heady it was. A couple volts even hitting his chassis while the activity in his own array pulsed back to try and fail to meet it. He bit down on his bottom derma watching you fall apart for him.

When your frame finally slacked did Knock Out stop moving his servos. Your frame and hips twitching periodically as left over charge still jumped across your frame post overload. He pulled away and pulled his digits out of your valve to bring the servo that was on your spike up closer to his faceplate. He touched his pointer and middle digit pads together before separating again. Your transfluid clung to both- stringing along both digits before breaking apart once more. "Transfluid Is the texture it should be." He glanced back at your spent frame slack and splayed out on his medical slab.

Spike half pressurized still and twitching while he could only assume your valve was clenching down on nothing from the left over charge feedback.

His smile curled.

Quite the exquisite sight now isn't it?

Knock Out could get away with another overload as playing it as more trouble shooting. Maybe even a third. Though no more than that. With how he's tampering with your levels and sensitivity he might crash your new system. And he'd have to reinstall it all over again.

...

And that would just be a travesty.... Now wouldn't it?

Divider support credit: @/cursed-carmine

Trailbreaker sparkdamn near collapses after Cosmos gave him the go-ahead to drop his force field. He doesn't manage to catch himself before his legs refuse to follow his equilibrium center and keep himself up right. He crashes into someone who quickly makes an effort to keep him upwards. Brawn is on his other side helping support him, too. Primus, Trailbreaker can't feel a lot of his frame right now. And to say he was exhausted would be putting it softly.

Trailbreaker registers your helm kibble and lately realizes it's you on his other side only when you kiss him on the cheek. "Good job." You praise him, and your em field is caressing his frame. If Trailbreaker had the energy right now, his optics would be burning hot. But there is a warm ball settling in his spark from your affection that gives Trailbreaker enough energy to smile and weakly chuckle. Trailbreakers just glad you all didn't die in a burning inferno. Trailbreakers' servo is grasped onto your pauldron and he lets his own em field drag along your frame.

Hopefully, you guys can kick Decepticon tailpipe fast. Because Trailbreaker needed to enter recharge badly. Preferably with his helm on your chassis.

-

Optimus sinks into his chair with a thunk. His frame is heavy and much too warn out after the days events. You'd all almost died, and none of you would have been able to avert it if it wasn't for Trailbreaker's quick thinking. He's still getting through the multiple apologies from the various human leaders, for almost accidentally condemning you all to such an unjust fate. Optimus sighed when he recalled the insults, and things shouted at them from the humans when they'd believed the fake evidence.

Optimus straightens his frame out when you enter his office. He nods and picks up a data pad to continue reading where he left off. You place an energon cube on his desk, and Optimus is about to rightfully thank you for it. But you're suddenly lightly guiding his helm. The soft press of your derma against the side of Optimus's battle mask had his finials perking back straight like they're supposed to be. "Good job." You praise him, and the next soft sigh out of Optimus makes his chassis leagues lighter.

"Thank you, love." Optimus mummers when you slowly pull away, one of his servos finding your arm and squeezing lightly. Optimus would finish this sooner than later now that he remembered he had more important matters to attend to...

-

Bumblebee's struts were killing him after that tornado he charged into. He's glad the plan worked anyway, and Auggie wasn't as big as an aft as he could've been. So the charities actually got something to split. But right now everything ached and after getting cleared by Hoist he tracked out and found you waiting for him in the hallway. Bumblebee was catching you up on the Insanity you'd just missed, ending his recap with how the charities only got something because of Auggie.

Bumblebee's not really paying as much attention as he usually would be because he's really tired. So he's surprised when your arm gets tossed over his pauldrons. Your arm crooks, and you dragged his frame close against your own. Bumblebee cycles his optics when you press close to kiss his cheek. "Good job." Bumblebee's optics brighten, and his plating fluffs under your affections. The ache is less obvious under the attention of your warm em field.

Bumblebee laughs, a smile making its way onto his face. "Aw, shucks-" Bumblebee readily leans against your own frame. He didn't know what he'd do without you sometimes.

-

Red Alert's processor is finally re-calibrated to account for his own heightened sensors and his own glitch. Ratchet and Hoist both granted him clearance to leave. On the condition, he is off duty for the next two cycles to rest and recover. The thought only makes Red Alert panic, because what were they supposed to do in the meantime while he was gone!? No one would be taking the necessary security measures like he would, and they could very well be infiltrated! All because he let himself be tricked by Starscream of all bots!

He's marching through the hallway towards his habsuite, trying to think of something to combat the coming major security risk. And a bot comes around the corner and Red Alert jerks so he doesn't crash into them- he almost barks out they state their Autobot ID but realizes it's you when you advance further and- your derma presses soft onto the side of his faceplate and you pull back. "Good job." Red Alerts sensors fizzle, and when he comprehends what you'd said, he asks for clarification. You just cycle your optics as if he's the unreasonable one here. "For doing the right thing at the end."

Red Alert's glitch fizzles into a dull hum when the affection starts burning in his frame. "You- I-" He suddenly can't find what to say but you just smile and offer a servo out to him. He takes it, and you start leading him on the path towards your own habsuite. Maybe he could just send a few dozen debriefs while he was forced to rest...

-

Soundwave was not an easy mech to wear down. But right now, he was practically just his struts at this point. The giant flying ship Megatron had them built was rerouted to directly on top of The Victory... as it was crashing. Sealing the breaches themselves was their own task and a half. The ship only had so many fail safes for armor breaches. The other was even rounding up the Decepticons to hurry and save their base from becoming utterly and completely flooded. Soundwave had gotten into arguments with others, been threatened, and had to pull leagues of saved blackmail. But their ship was not in mortal danger anymore.

Soundwave tapped out the next orders he was sending out via his datapad. A frame made its way towards him out of the edge of his visors compression. Lazerbeak, who was on his paldron, did not react in any way, so he'd assumed he would be fine continuing to focus on his work. So when two servos grasp the sides of his helm, Soundwave freezes and preemptively resigns himself to probably being thrown across the room. Only he's tugged and- derma press against the side of his mask, and Soundwave realizes it's you when your em field touches him. "Good job." You murmur, and Soundwave's plating flattens back out.

Soundwave can't stop the hum of a sound in his vocalizor when his chassis warms with tenderness. Lazerbeak jumped from one of his pauldrons to his other and leaned over for a kiss, too. You obliged, and Lazerbeak hums a sound much like Soundwave's own. Soundwave could give himself a much needed break after this joor. He deserved it after all...

-

Thundercracker was going to put a dent or two into Starscream if he sees him any time soon! Couldn't keep Thundercracker out of his schemes for two klicks! Then Skyfire shows back up alive, and Starscream decides to act even more reckless than usual. Even after Thundercracker told him to keep him out of his slag! But no! He had to try and make Thundercracker screw up guarding the artifact and almost get them both slagged by the Autobots at the same time! Thundercrackers marching his way to the flight deck because he needed to go for a fly before his weapon system engaged the next time he got even slightly angrier.

Thundercracker almost runs into a bot on a hallway corner, and his wings slant even further, promising violence, and he bares his denta. Only his wings re correct, and his optics widen when he realizes it's you. Before he can mutter out anything, you step even closer and grab his face. Thundercracker lets you lead his frame, and you plant a kiss right on the side of his cheek. "Good job." You tell him and pull away, your em field smoothing the puffed plating down on his front.

Thundercracker's system disengages with its attempt to start up his battle measures. His plating slacks all at once, and his pauldrons drop and loosen along with the rest of his frame. And Thundercrackers suddenly very tired instead of raging so hard it felt like his spark was about to burst. Thundercracker sighs, and you just grab his servo and start leading him back towards his habsuite. Primus, Thundercracker needed to lie down, maybe with his helm in your lap...

-

Starscream huffed, the sound coming out like the plating being scraped right off a bot. Oh, go get the footage reel, Strascream! We won't tell you there's more than one reel till you get back! How the frag was Strascream supposed to know anything about there being a backup!? He had to push his next assassination attempt up a bit further as a "thank you" for Megatrons' kindness in only ripping his entire vocalizor and half his throat right out of him.

New movement made him sneer in the general direction of whoever It was who just entered the med bay. The touch of a familiar em field made his plating slack back down slightly. You made it to his side, and Strascream didn't bother looking your way, too busy scheming (and not wanting to see whatever expression was on your faceplate). Your servos tilted his face gently to the side, and your derma pressed against his cheek. "Good job." You muttered while your other servo moved by his wing and traced the edge of it. Starscream's plating fluffs then flattens even further than before. A very minute sliver of his rage shimmers out to make room for some sliver of fondness.

He then huffs again the sound just as splitting as before from his broken parts. Starscream looks away from your optics quickly to scowl at the wall instead. He wants to rant and rave to you, but he'll have to settle for seething silently by your side for now...

-

Megatron sits down on his chair with a heavy sound, with his servo coming up to pinch the edge of his olfactory right between his optics. The battle and mistakes of the day that nearly lead to you all blowing up alongside this sparkdamn rock. A quick biting of glossia, temporary alliance, and panicking, and you all were no longer going to die in a plant wide explosion. He should have accounted for Devastators pension for- stupidity. Apparently they'd shorted his logic center in the fight for control of him, but he should have seen that coming regardless. But instead, that careless mistake smashed right through the escape plans and almost killed everyone. The door opening doesn't make him glance because whoever It was should know better to come in uninvited without a sparkdamn good reason for it.

Your em field drags along his back when you get closer, and his plating rattles a touch when he huffs in realization. You're on his side, and your servos drag his faceplate towards you. Your derma presses soft against the side right where his helm ends and meets his cheek. "Good job," you say and Megatron levels you with a look that he knows says more than just his displeasure. You aren't intimidated by it, continuing on regardless. "Don't pout at me. You still sent a lot of energon back to Cybertron."

Tracks is in the middle of trying to put the second layer of new paint on a bot when you message him. Tracks finishes the area he's coating before letting himself open whatever image you'd sent him and- he pauses again and finds himself taking in the provocative teasing sight you'd sent him. His array is slowly trying to become active while staring at the naughty position you'd decided to pose yourself, in an obvious attempt to get him riled up. The caption only makes Tracks click his glossia audibly at the sight.

Tracks is exactly the type of diva who immediately cancels every other appointment he has for the day and works through his current client with a purpose. That purpose? He's suddenly got much more important matters to attend to than detail and paint work! He makes sure his work on his current client is perfect before shoo'ing them out of his work shop while muttering care tips for their new perfect coat. And he reorganizes his tomorrow schedule to squeeze in who he canceled on today while on his drive to your habsuite.

Once Tracks is there he's finding wherever you are (if you do move from your original spot he is a touch upset.) And without a hello, Tracks is getting between your thighs and he's pulling your frame so he can get between them properly. Luckily, there's still high grade all over your frame and modesty panel so Tracks doesn't dilly dally and gets to cleaning your paint (yes, with his glossia). Honestly you were too much-! Making him come over to clean your paint for you like this? Didn't you know high grade when left on paint for long periods of time can lead to possible paint fade?! He's pausing between his glossia dragging on your panel to scold you for your obviously absurd blunder. But he does his dill diligence to clean everything off of you even when he's berating you for being his stupid Conjunx.

9/10 Tracks is a brat but he's your brat. He is the fastest one to get to you here and down to business with the least mayhem left behind him.

Starscream is reading over work in the laboratory when you send him something on his com. He opens the image of whatever it is to glance even though he's in the middle of a paragraph. Because busy schedule be sparkdamned, you were much more important than some silly- Starscream’s optics widen and he freezes exactly in his place and stares at you. And your panel... and the high grade all over- the caption causes his wings to flick.

Starscream’s also the type to immediately get up, other responsibilities be sparkdamned! But then he's reminded that he will not have time for some of his experiment tomorrow if he doesn't get through his today work load. Oh, he is irate. You know. You know he's busy, and you- no matter. Starscream’s lazy attitude is gone and he slams through just what he absolutely needs to get done today. Before rushing out of the laboratory and transforming. Definitely possibly breaks air traffic laws, to get to your habsuite faster than he would otherwise.

Starscream rushes into your habsuite and speed walks while calling out your designation to find you again- when he does finally find you Starscream smiles soft. And then Starscream genuinely smiles- sharp. And he grabs you by your thighs no matter where you're at and gets between them as soon as he can. Honestly sending an image like that to him! You still have high grade all over your lower chassis and modesty panel. Starscream rightfully scolds you before he lets himself taste your panel- the taste of high grade accompanying it. His digits firm, allowing zero chance of you escaping him and pulling away what he rightfully deserved. What would you do without him-?! Huh? Sit there with high grade wasted on your own armor?! Disgraceful- utterly disgraceful. You're lucky he actually cares about you. And double so that you have such an attentive conjunx- truly Starscream spoils you.

8/10 it's Starscream. He gets there slower than Tracks and might leave some loose ends via speeding to get to your habsuite faster, but at least he doesn't get caught.

Astrotrain’s doing cargo delivery with a busy day. It's mostly all cargo transports so at least he doesn't have to worry about anybody trying to complain about him being a "poor host" or some slag. He's flying when he gets a message from you. It's an image so he ends up waiting till he's back on the ground to unload to look- Astrotrain stops in the middle of opening his side door at the sight of you. You with high grade spilled all over your front and closed array- The caption makes his train engine rumble.

Astrotrain is reminded where he is when the mechs supposed to unload their delivery knock on his shuttle door. Slag-! His servos are tied! Astrotrain blasts off after everything is accounted for and picks up speed. Maybe he breaks air traffic laws while trying to finish his rounds as quick as possible. (And maybe he gets a ticket.) Not important. Astrotrain is supposed to unload the last delivery himself as a drop off. Since its not breakable slag, he tilts and just dumps it all onto the ground where he's supposed to leave it and he's fragging gone in a klick.

He stomps into your habsuite because of the slag he had to get through after you sent that to him. Another who mech handles you when he first catches sight of you, but probably more so since Astrotrain’s big enough he's gonna be able to pick you up easy. Even if you happen to be larger since shuttles are build to handle heavy loads. He'll carry you and toss you onto your berth. Before he's forcibly dragging your pelvis up by your hips into the air for easier access. Doesn't matter if you happen to be small enough he ends up making you completely air born- You knew what that slag would do to him-! The high grades starting to get sticky from how long it was sitting on your armor. You fragging- you weren't moving until he got every trace of this mess off your panel-!

7/10 The ticket is a point of contention but Astrotrain does his job as fast as he can and does get to your habsuite quickly regardless.

Skyfire had just gotten back from a short interstellar supply mission he had. The bots were polite thankfully about the cargo delivery and the trip went off without a hitch. Skyfire checks his com when he feels himself get a message from you. He was still stuck orbiting the atmosphere waiting for landing clearance. The image makes him balk and then his fans to turn on when he reads the caption. His cruel conjunx! It's not his fault he's stuck out here! He can't make them hurry any faster! Skyfire huffs and can feel his array stir in interest while staring at the teasing photo.

He's suffering but Skyfire can only urge them to hurry without seeming unreasonable when he cannot also give them a reason why he needs to be done sooner than later. Skyfire can't rush them but when he gets landing clearance he lands in a jog- shouts his status to the pit stop crew and also messages them his internal readings. He transforms again and blasts off when he gets back to where he's allowed to fly in the city. Skyfire flies as quickly as he can without breaking air traffic laws- he wouldn't allow himself to get a ticket! (Also because getting a ticket would make him even later then he already was!)

Skyfire has to catch his vents by the time he lands in front of your habsuite. But he enters and he ends up seeing you almost as soon as he does. Skyfire will get on his knees where you're sitting and rest his cheek against your inner thigh. And look up at you with his optic ridge worried. The high grade is still on your modesty panel but it's mostly dry at this point. Love- why- why did you decide to make him suffer while on his work shift? Did you feel like he'd been neglecting you that badly? Skyfire's servos find your thighs and he drags you towards the edge of your seat. It was- well, it was still possible to clean it off like you'd asked. Even if it might take longer when it was like this...

6/10 Doesn't break air traffic laws like the above two but it's also why he takes so long to get back in the first place. Gets an extra point for being cute.

Another day another cycle working on architecture on cybertron. It was an all servos on deck situation with The Constructicons. Every single one of them was focused on point as Scrapper chimed in between his own work to direct the rest of the team when he needed to. Then all pit breaks loose when Scavenger yelped loudly. Long Haul and Hook turned towards the sound, one to scold, the other to insult about having to fix damage at a time like this. Then they all get to watch Scavenger make a break for it- Actually try and ditch them on shift! Bonecrusher grabbed him before he could run off and Scavenger just shouts your designation while still trying to escape.

They all freeze before checking their coms- Multiple of them curse and Mixmaster whistled. Scrapper stepped forward immediately knowing everyone would scatter as soon as they realized what they were looking at. And what your text said. Promiscuous ( and very attractive) Conjunx aside- They still had a job to do. And they had a lot of ground to cover. Scrapper warns there isn’t going to be any sloppy work but that also didn’t mean they couldn’t also put petal to the metal and work on crunch time. It is a labor- filled with cursing, a few injuries, grime, and a lot of scuffed paint. But they finish their job in record time with no corners cut.

They don’t even stop to wash (much to Hook’s grievances but he’s not letting the rest of them get to you without him!). And they almost take down your door when they shove themselves into your habsuite. It takes them three nano-klicks to realize you're not in the main lounge.The sound of solvent running tells them you’re in your wash rack. You jump and stare at Mixmaster who manged to squeeze himself in first through the wash rack door. Only to end up rushed by all six of your riled up significant others. And they definitely don’t all fit in your wash rack with you but they’re crowding you regardless. Not hesitating to get under the solvent with you and start getting grabby. You’re getting scolded, groped, and grabbed from multiple sides-! Solvent slipping between you all while they show you exactly how much they enjoyed the little photo you’d sent them.

6/10 Even later than Skyfire but they leave no ends untied and also are thorough with treating you right and cleaning you up at the end of it all.

Ratchet is in the middle of doing his rounds for everyone in his unit, having to pick up slack for one of the newer medic assistants because they had to call out due to an emergency. You send him something on his com but only two messages, so Ratchet assumes it isn't an emergency and continues on. He only checks it when he has the time- when he goes on break. He's stops in the middle of raising his energon cube up to his derma at the sight of the high grade spilled down your front. Ratchet’s derma set firm at the caption.

He vents long and deliberately while running through his options. And unfortunately he was stuck. Especially with the shift he was covering while still doing his own. So he buries down the charge trying to circle under his panel. With that he goes back to his work- running through thoughts and the sight of you like that. Ratchet does make sure to stay on his work load and to clean as he goes to help limit how long he'd really be staying. He gets an idea halfway through his shift and he follows through with it after finally finishing his shift and before heading to your habsuite.

You're in your berth by the time Ratchet let's himself in. You're not in recharge thankfully reading something on your data pad, so he announces himself and climbs in after you. You half shift like you were going to make room for him but Ratchet grabs you firm and drags your frame closer instead. He’s kneeling over you before long and he unsubspaces the bottle of high grade he bought- pops it open and flips it upside down- Unceremoniously pouring it out and utterly drenching the front of your frame. When about half is left in the bottle Ratchet stops and flips the bottle right side up and brings it to his derma. Chugging the other half of the bottle till its empty and subspacing it after. Ratchet laughs and finally speaks then. He apologizes about the wait but he had the thought in his mind since you sent those messages to him. And that he plans to follow through with the stupid little perverted idea you put in his processor no matter what.

5/10 Is one, if not the latest any bot could possibly be in this scenario. But Ratchet gets major points for the smoothest damage control he could do in this situation.

Divider credits @/enchanthings, @/cafekitsune, @/diviniyae

Soundwave had a virus. He must have.

He knew logically he did not. His personal diagnostics always running back clear. And Hook's last assessment had returned that he was in optimal condition. But Soundwave also knew that what was wrong with him wouldn't show up on any of the usual scans.

His spark twinged in demand to be satisfied and his servos fisted when he watched you walk out of the canteen while nursing an energon cube.

You'd gradually and slowly gotten more receptive to the idea of his cassettes. Primarily Lazerbeak, Buzzsaw and most recently even Ravage. Your gaze had shifted to an unassuming stare as opposed to a glare when you'd spot one of them. Then It was actually Buzzsaw who'd broken the physical barrier first. Soundwave saw how It had happened after Buzzsaw returned so quickly he nearly pried Soundwave’s glass open with his own beak. Before lately pinging Soundwave the mental urge to dock. But his cassette was in the process of gifting you another one of his spoils from the last battlefield.

Buzzsaw had crushed two different colored plates, he'd ripped off two separate Autobots, together. And made something small that he was proud of before giving it to you. You paused when Buzzsaw landed on a table near you and hopped forward with his gift in his beak. He dropped it and waited for you to wordlessly come get it from him. You did, now used to the small items being delivered to you from his cassette. You worried your digit over one of the smoother edges of the piece as you examined it. Buzzsaw was busy mentally preening himself on the fact you'd actually taken the time to do just that, instead of subspaceing it immediately like his prior gifts.

And then he stopped dead still when the back of your knuckles lightly- and tentatively brushed over the top of his helm. Your em field along with your touch was warm. Buzzsaw stared up at you and you slowly murmured a “thanks” before turning and leaving him by himself. The light cautious touch of your servo made tingling shivers run down Soundwave’s own helm when he relived the moment. After that Buzzsaw put more effort into his gifts instead of delivering you his raw materials. You eventually pushed your digit under Buzzsaw's chin and scratched when he'd gifted you something. Your em field soft against his face- His plating loosened and his cassette had to physically fight the urge to thrill in response. Buzzsaw’s embarrassment was so heavy Soundwave felt it through the bond across The Victory when it had initially happened.

Lazerbeak was next- he'd taken a couple of shots at Blitzwing when the triple changer was getting much closer then he should ever feel comfortable getting. Especially with you. After the quick scuffle that occurred because of it (and you slamming your fist into Blitzwing’s faceplate) you'd sighed. And rubbed the top the Lazerbeak’s helm with a quick thanks. Lazerbeak's plating fluffed quick before he could stop it and he coo'd. You paused at the sound and arched an optic ridge while wordlessly staring at his cassette. Lazerbeak was not nearly as flustered as Buzzsaw had been. But Soundwave could still feel the slight burn in Lazerbeak’s optics when he'd docked all the same.

And it took a long long while for Ravage to eventually break the barrier next. He'd had to take pointers from Buzzsaw and Lazerbeak. But eventually he'd managed in infiltrate regardless. Ravage had been near you again after he'd delivered a datapad from Megatron to you. He was doing his best to be non threatening. Not staring directly at you but doing his best to seem approachable. You glanced at him and Ravage’s tail wiggled in apprehension. You looked back down at the datapad he'd delivered and sighed. Your servo slowly and cautiously hovered over the top of his helm before you gave him one good stroke with a "thank you." Ravage turned and pranced his way down the hall and back to Megatron and Soundwave.

Ravage almost vaulted his frame directly into Soundwave’s middle before he could open his dock compartment with how quickly the cassette returned.

And Soundwave was glad.

It was good. Very good. They were actually becoming successful in integrating into your normal day to day. You were starting to treat his cassettes amicably even. The elation over every little touch or non aggressive act or action taken towards them was another victory.

But now the excitement was being coupled together with the ugly urging of jealousy.

The feeling settling in with a stranglehold around his spark. Soundwave knowing fully well the jealousy was not just his own. His other cassettes becoming just as urging whenever another one of them received your attention no matter how mild it was. Rumble and Frenzy were as desperate as Soundwave was. The slow warming of yourself still only fleetingly shared with the three beastial bots. They all wanted you. Soundwave wanted you. He didn't just want the small amiable gestures.

Soundwave needed all of you.

Soundwave knew how to get bots to do what he wanted.

How he kept his position as third in command in the Decepticon ranks.

…

Soundwave needed good blackmail on you.

Soundwave has never experienced what it is like to fully and truly own a bot. Having good blackmail on a bot was close. The desperation and gritted but still followed obedience from bots who would kill him otherwise. Following his every order because they'd known exactly what would be waiting in term for them if they disobeyed. Soundwave needed to own you. He needed to own you in a way he hadn't been able to with any bot he'd managed to catch faltering before.

But he also needed to be yours.

The fleeting and brief moments of contact you'd initiated with his cassettes almost felt like a mocking pipe dream. Tempting- taunting him. Soundwave now knows what your servos feel like. What your digits felt like. The cautiously light but warm touch of your em field.

Soundwave’s spark pinged with it's inescapable urgency once more. His servos clenched tight enough to ache and the footage of you thanking Lazerbeak replayed behind his visor.

Soundwave vented deeply when Frenzy reported which hallway of The Victory you were taking back to your habsuite. His plating relaxing a touch when he remembered where he was.

Soundwave patched himself through to all of his cassettes before saying your designation and then giving his order.

"Find blackmail."

Frenzy and Rumble snickered while Buzzsaw echo’d a low humming sound that Soundwave knew he only made when he had prey in his sights. A quick sound from Lazerbeak and Ravage signaled an affirmative.

Though they hadn't found anything of use yet- that doesn't necessarily mean there wouldn't be anything they couldn't use.

You were all Decepticons after all. There would be something Soundwave could use to his advantage. Even if they had to wait or dig for it.

He'd own you regardless. They'd own you regardless. He'd just needed an "in" and Soundwave would be able to finally treat you like he wanted to.

Soundwave would be able to finally have you like he needed to.

There was greed and then there was whatever had sunk it’s digits deep into their frames.

It had started when Mixmaster made some highgrade and had started drinking it with Bonecrusher and you.

Well, you’d elected to watch in case the composition was wrong and then they’d need Hook rushed over to them. But it hadn’t happened and they got overcharged, and Bonecrusher got up to to grab some normal energon from the canteen. Gone for only a couple klicks.

And Mixmaster told you about what they’d wanted to do to you.

What they’d all fantasized about about at least once.

How they wanted to spike you as Devastator.

Bonecrusher came back into their habsuite and you asked “If it was true-?”

Bonecrusher went directly for Mixmaster after you’d clarified. Violence assured just as simply.

And you said you’d “be fine with trying if it would be safe anyway.” Making them both freeze mid grapple to stare at you mouths agape.

It took a lot of checking, making sure you were even large enough for the task to even be a maybe. But your larger frame class size seemed to make you just large enough to “Possibly take Devastator’s spike without long lasting damage with training and preparation” As Hook said. You being bigger than any of them was something they all liked- something they liked a lot. So being bigger- even huge compared to you while interfacing for once was something they’d always fantasized about.

Because it was supposed to be a charge filled fantasy.

But after a lot of training, toys Scrapper made, getting you to take part of Devastator’s glossia. Then eventually one of their digits- only then working up to taking two completely. Your valve stretched and stuffed fuller than they’d every filled you before already. Feeling you clench down on their digits when you overloaded made them have to fight to let you out of their grip- once the training time was up for the day.

Then they spiked you finally after months of planning- and their fantasies couldn’t even measure up to what the reality actually was.

You gasping and panting and throbbing around the girth of their spike, optics so bright and optic ridge creased. Him being able to easily hold you with one servo while you were squeezing down on them. The bulge their spike made in your metal from how over sized it was compared to your own size class, and the spikes you were supposed to be taking with your frame. And they stared down at where you were in their grasp- your metal bulging out very noticeably so- And the charge settles into his multiple fuel tanks so thick, it feels like it might bubble over into his other internals at any moment.

It’s not until after the interfacing and they’ve separated again to make sure you’re okay- You on your back huffing and panting- fans loud with a small paunch in your metal that was still left over while their transfluid slowly spilled out of you. And you laughed in an overcharged daze and said you might be sparked after that.

And they didn’t know then- but every single one of them felt the hot rush of charge that the idea caused, making their already warm frames burn all over again. They then all, rightfully assumed, they’d be in for it on their next mind meld.

Only pleasant surprise-! They realized they were all on the same page without talking to each other. It just made them more determined. All of them asking Hook when they’d know for sure if you’d been sparked. It would be a couple weeks to know for sure- and then Hook checked to see if you were sparked. You chuckled and also agreed you should probably be sure on that- letting Hook examine you and test.

You weren’t sparked. And they were actually disappointed by the news. Realizing for sure they did really want you sparked and carrying for them was- something. They couldn’t even be mad at each other because they’d all had the same arousal chugging up their fuel tanks after spiking you as Devasator.

Then Scrapper just said they could try again.

And they all realized he was right.

Next time he had the chance alone with you, Scavenger was on his knees and fragging begging you to let them spike you again as Devastator.

Long Haul kicked him in the back and send him to the ground for the display. But as pathetic as it was, it actually worked and you said you’d let them spike you again. (The rest of them never thought they’d be grateful for Scavenger being a pleading embarrassment but they were.)

So now they’re here- again as Devastator sitting on his aft, his spike tip kissing the entrance of your soaked valve. Already prepped by them thoroughly all over again.

Devastator huffed and pulled you closer against the tip. Your valve mesh parting further at the insistence. He held you firm so they would actually spike you and not slip and rut against your spike (and entire front) instead. And you cursed when he actually got his spike to slip inside. He started properly sliding you down- and down- a few stops when you’d asked for them. Till They eventually had you back where you were before.

Gasping, panting, faceplate tinting, bright optics- while your servos gripped at their digits where they were resting against your frame.

The now small quivering grip of yours (that should have been barely registering as sensation due to the size difference you’d had) felt almost inescapable. As ridiculous and even impossible as it seemed the feeling was still there. Coupled together by your valve fluttering around their spike, like a cute suggestion to the situation this was.

To the position he had you in.

You weren’t leaving here till they wanted to put you down. It wasn’t something you’d be able to physically squirm your way out of if they didn’t let you.

The bulge in your metal their spike made was still right where it had been last time. Your frame compromising to take the size of it.

They thought about the bulge being because you’d been sparked and started showing instead.

Their spike throbbed inside of you and you hissed in a vent through your denta. Your frame flexing then relaxing followed by a deep vent. Condensation dripping down your plating from the temperature your frame was running at. Your grip flexed a touch and you pried your optics open to look up at them. “Move?” You questioned- didn’t ask as your em field brushing against their servo asked instead. Questioning and curious-

But undeniably wanting- urging-!

Devastator growled, his engines all giving a rev in response in agreement- He needed to spark you- needed to frag you- needed you full with enough of their transfluid that there wouldn’t be any chance of you not being sparked.

So Devasator pulled you back off their spike, slow but sure until they pulled you back down. You moaned softly- quiet as his spike slowly dragged back out of your hole, your valve now soaked further with their own pre lubricants his spike kept spilling in his own excitement.

So he kept pulling you up and forcing his spike back where it had been- bulging your middle back out every single time they did- again and again. The sight only making two of his engines start purring in delight when his speed eventually picked up.

You moaned and called his designation. Your own spike now softly bouncing against your own metal- dripping your own pre lubricants over the front of your frame. The hot drag of your valve opening back up to take them again had Devasator’s plating twitching. You took them good- Took them perfect. He already knows you can take their transfluid just as perfectly- So he knows you can take their sparklings just the same.

Devasator drags in a long deep vent and he starts letting himself buck just a bit when you reach the base of his spike every pull back down. You twitch around them and curse while he keeps forcing your valve back open to take what it really shouldn’t be equip for taking. You were theirs-! Theirs and that ‘ment you were made to take them-! But you took them all perfectly- Even took him perfectly-! You put the effort in to make sure you could pleasure him too-!

Devasator has to grit his jaw when the charge zaps through his chassis. His engines stall and he bottoms out as much as he’s allowed. While his spike throbs, as pump after pump of their transfluid is being dumped right into your waiting valve and gestation tank. You flex in their grip again with a sharp curse. A Whine coming out of you when you start throbbing around them too-! Your spike spills your own transfluid over your own front when you overload to the feeling of getting their transfluid stuffed into you.

He relaxes and then you do- panting in hot vents- Your middles a bit paunch again as your frame struggled to accommodate the sizable load they just pumped into you. But it did accommodate while only some slipped out of where his spike was still buried inside of you.

You only gasped and vented till you eventually quieted down.

And that’s when Devastator let his other servo come up to wrap around his other and also around your frame. Against your back with his other too, because they wanted to see you- see your expressions.

He vented slow and was steady when he pulled you back off his spike length. Till only the tip was still inside of you.

You cried out in shock when he only shoved his spike back inside of you- it making a sloppy sound when some of their transfluid was forced out of your valve to make more room to take his spike once more.

You shouted obscenities when his pace quickly picked back up to the almost unforgiving one as before. (They wouldn’t break you- They wouldn’t!)

“What-!?” You cursed and gasped, grasping them harshly while you kept taking what they gave you. What they needed you to take-! “Devasator-!?”

“One more-! One more-!” He gritted out and bounced you on their spike with a purpose- They needed you to take another one of their overloads-! You could do that!

You conceded with a loud noise that devolved into you holding onto him as he dragged you through another session of basically getting used as their toy! You were theirs- You wanted to take them! You wanted to make him feel good-!

And they wanted you overloading while they stuffed you full of their transfluid again!

Devastator could feel more charge start building back under his plating just as fast. You being turned into a mess in their grip- turning into a mess for them, was making it build quicker. Your plating tense but loose enough he could still see those sensitive pieces of yours through the gaps. Bright- bright optics either screwed shut or barely able to open. While you were getting fragged the hardest you must be in your entire function-! The noises that came out of you while you could only hold on and take it- take them-! You started begging- Pleading.

“Please- Please-!” Your frame tried to flex even more but his grip on you prevented it- “Please-! Please-” Your em field was practically popping against his digit joints from the treatment they were putting you through. Your spike spilling more of your transfluid onto your chassis when he forced your second overload right out of you.

His engines revved and he pulled you back down just the same as before- pumping more transfluid right inside of your valve. Filling you to the brim as more of his transfluid overflowed and poured down from where you were still seated on his spike.

They groaned when they watched as your middle distended more than it already had been.

The panting and soft sounds of fans filled the air alongside his engines all purring low inside him.

Devastator slowly pulled you back off his spike- You groaned as he did it. Their spike tip pulling out of you with a wet squelch. You sighed loudly when more of their transfluid almost immediately started spilling out of your currently gaped valve and onto the ground. Your hole fluttered over nothing; unsure on closing after the amount of time he’d had his spike buried down almost to the hilt in you.

A part of him wanted to pull you up to his mouth and shove his glossia back into your valve and taste them all over your insides. The other parts of himself dismissed the thought, because it would be a waste of transfluid. Transfluid they wanted to stay inside Your hips lightly twitching at their petting of your already overworked equipment.

And maybe Devasator softly tilted your top half back just a little in their servos, so less of their transfluid would spill out of you so quickly.

When Hook checked a few weeks later he came with a curse and the negative that they’d failed to spark you again.

They groaned and cursed- But Scrapper reminded them yet again-

That they just had to try again.

And they knew he was right. They needed to try again and make sure it takes this time around. You still liked making them feel good- They did do.

They might just have to have you overloading yourself incoherent on their spike next time to make sure this time was a success.

Divider support credit: @/cursed-carmine

Art Credit: @/David Nakayma

Ironhide is the fastest out of these mechs who snaps first in this scenario. Now, don't get it twisted. Ironhide lasts much longer than other autobots not included here. (Sunstreaker, Skyfire) But out of the other contenders here, he snaps near immediately compared to the rest of them. It starts with soft brushes of your em field when passing each other and you don't react. And Ironhide can see the shape of your aft while your bending over to help fix teletraan 1- and it cultivates when you accidentally run into him and his servos fly onto your frame to steady you not realizing it's you- and your frame is pressed right up against his own and your servos are on each other- and then Ironhide can't fragging take it anymore!

Ironhide drags you into their equivalent of a storage closet before you can protest. It's a heated and frustrating blur, but Ironhide does remember yanking the manual release on your modesty panel- Next thing he knows, he's pounding into your valve from behind where you're both standing. Ironhide curses when you squeeze down on him while you groan against Ironhides' servo. Ironhide had covered your mouth when he yanked you in here. While the back of your frame was pressed right against his front. There's a soft clank of his windshield glass getting hit on your armor every time he bottoms out inside you again.

Primus- you little- You didn't mean to do it! Ironhide knows- he's just a filthy fragging pervert who can't help himself! Every muffled cry out of you only makes Ironhide snap his hips harder and harder. The heavy want in his core only getting hotter and hotter the longer he's fragging you silly. Primus- Ironhide fantasized about this so many times, and the press of your frame against his and your valve taking his spike like this didn't even come close to his own dirty little thoughts. You're so good- taking his spike so good- not struggling too much against him neither- Ironhide lately wishes he'd dragged you in here by your front because he really wants to taste your glossia right now.

A strangled noise, muffled but still audible, escapes your throat when Ironhides free servo grabs your spike and practically starts fragging you right into his own fist with the force of his thrusts. Your spinal strut arches back against his own frame, where you're flush against one another. Your frame is trapped between ironhide and his own servos, and you overload on his spike. Valve clenching down on him and a muffled but used sound escapes you when Ironhide only speeds up. And Ironhide groans and stills to finally overload inside you.

You groan against his servo and Ironhide just continues to softly rut against your aft. Riding out his own overload and making sure his transfluid is stuffed in your valve proper. Your spent spike is twitching in his servo and Ironhide pushes his em field out to praise you- His dang glossia wasn't cooperating with him right. So instead he's pushing his field to wrap around your frame like the rest of him was. the Good, good, you're doing so good. that Ironhide feels in his struts caresses your softly twitching frame.

Ironhide pulls his servo away from your mouth, and you pant in greedy vents. Ironhide then gags you with his digits next- The flat of his digit pads pressing down flat on your glossia. His own glossia dragging along the covering of your audial- Ironhides spike twitching inside you when you whine around his digits. Ironhide had a good amount of pent-up tension he still needed to get outta himself concerning you.

He's lucky you were so understandin' to his predicament...

-

Prowl didn't know what else he could do to avoid the new influx of- unsavory imagery infecting his proccessor whenever he would see you. He'd chalked it up to it being because he'd seen you as he had in the hallway self servicing. And now he could not get the imagery out of his helm. And then new... fantasies continued to turn in Prowl's processor. His logic center continued to randomly calculate subduing measures. He'd now made a habit of dismissing them and keeping his servos behind his own back when you'd have to be near one another.

Prowl is coming out of his habsuite, and you suddenly crash into Prowl, and you both end up on the floor in a tangle of limbs. You're practically straddling his lap- you apologize and sit up and in the process your aft grinds down on Prowls modesty panel. Prowl is hit with the sequence of moves he'd need to take to knock you on the floor and get on top of you instead. And he dismisses it, and he forces himself still. In fact, he's so still you look down at him in confusion and ask if he's alright.

Then your em field of all things brushes against Prowl, and there's a hint of- playfulness? It makes Prowls logic center run, and it runs into a conclusion. There was a thirty percent chance you'd been doing this to Prowl on purpose. Every little pose and stretch- the longer Prowl recalled incidents, the chances had jumped up to forty percent. And then Prowl does something he loathes to admit- but he reacts without thinking. He follows through with the take down sequence prompt and swiftly knocks you off of him. And before Prowl knows it, you're on your front, with your wrists bound in the stasis cuffs he always carries in his subspace.

After a heated few klicks, Prowl grabbed you and dragged you through his doorway into his habsuite, the door closing behind you both. What he was doing to you- but Prowl knew- Prowl was following his intuition. He was trusting his intuition that said the forty percent was correct, and he was reacting accordingly. (Never mind the fact that you were incapacitated-) and he snapped open your modesty panel and your valve was dripping on his digits in less than a klick and the percent shoots up to fifty percent and Prowl (this was wrong- this was wrong-) takes that chance and spikes you right there on his habsuite floor.

Prowl rarely cursed. It just wasn't a habit- but he's muttering curses under his vents when he enters you and promptly bottoms out. You felt- wonderful. Prowl thrusts hard and fast- he never punished you for self servicing in the ark hallway- this was for that- nothing else! Prowls pace doesn't falter when you start moaning and grunting every time he bottoms out. And his door wings don't fan high when you start saying his designation against the floor where your faceplate is pressed. (And he's certainly not fantasizing about pulling you onto his berth after this and fragging you senseless-)

Prowl notices that you're drooling on the floor. (His stasis cuffs having taken function of your fine motor controls.) Prowls servos move from your waist to your pauldrons and he's pushing you down further and thrusting into you harder. Your valve clenches down on his spike and you're murmuring his designation over and over- Prowl overloads with a sharp invent of your designation while pressing down on your back. You're twitching around him and panting lazily against the floor. His cuffs still preventing you from doing much else. Prowl gets the inappropriate thought of kissing the back of your neck and he does not follow through with it.

He does, however, lean to the side of your audial and speak. "Consider this- punishment for your habit of self servicing outside of your habsuite." Your vent hitches at Prowl's words. Prowl realizes he still needs to punish you for playing with him so inappropriately- Prowl didn't consider this nearly enough punishment for your misgivings.

Prowl is running through what else he's going to do to punish you while he drags your frame upwards.

-

Frankly the only reason Ratchet doesn't snap before Prowl is because he took measures to try and keep you safe from him. Which was limiting his interactions with you unless absolutely necessary. Which was working- to a degree. Ratchet keeps thinking about you and the few interactions have left his frame hot and his engine wanting to rev. It's getting harder for Ratchet to continue to convince himself to leave the room when you enter- and then you walk right into the medbay and Ratchet has no where to go- you see him and walk right up to him- and Hoist is off base and he's not gonna be able to handle this- and you'd come in with a visible limp so Ratchet can't just kick you out without seeing you. (He should! He should do just that-) And you ask if Ratchet can realign your leg pivot.

That was simple- Ratchet should be able to do that at least... So you're lying back on the medical slab and Ratchet has a hold of your leg and his other servo is on your pelvis and he just- Ratchet pushed up and to the left and feels your leg realign and you audibly groan in relief. Ratchet found himself staring at how your plating all slacked after the action. And Ratchet takes much too long to realize he hadn't moved from his position and still had your leg propped up. His other servo still on your pelvis' when you're on your back looking up at him.

Ratchet needed to move now.

So Ratchet leans forward forcing your other leg to the side and his servo reaches for your throat- and you stop but you don't panic because you trust him- (He was your medic of course you trusted him-) and one of the multi tools in his digits zapped you right in the throat. Your own sound of surprise is cut sort because Ratchet just shorted your vocalizor. Your optics go wide, and you jerk backward and start trying to use your voice- but nothing comes out. And nothing would sound out of you for a few klicks. Ratchet realizes that whatever is seriously wrong with himself might not be fixable when Ratchets first thought is to feel bad for shorting your vocilizor- not because he might have hurt you. (Or because it's a gross violation of your trust-) But because now Ratchet won't be able to hear what sounds you'd make.

Ratchets yanking the manual release on your modesty panel and climbing up onto the medical slab too, and before he knows it- He's spiking you right then and there in the middle of the medbay. Ratchet savors the reaction of you arching off the medical slab, mouth open but no groan or moan to accompany it. Ratchet pulls back and re enters you slow and watches your valve open up to accommodate the girth of his spike. You grit your denta, and your own spike pressurizes properly, and Ratchet doesn't hesitate to grab it and stroke you off languidly. His grip tightening at your spike tip and giving you a gentle squeeze at the base every pump back down-

Your hips jerk against his own and his servo, and Ratchet actually feels gratified when your valve clenches down on him- (he shouldn't! He shouldn't! It was a basic reaction to him servicing your spike! Ratchet knows better!) Ratchet groans and starts snapping his hips and fragging you proper on the medical slab. His optics are trained on your faceplate- watching how your optics almost shuttered closed- your optical ridge furrowed. Your optics are as bright as he'd ever seen them. Your mouth closes and opens with no sound coming out of you still- Ratchet really wishes he hadn't shorted your vocalizor! Ratchet needed to hear what sound you'd make right now- how you'd sound taking his spike- how you'd sound overloading on his spike- How you'd sound begging for him-

Your spike throbs in his servo, and the only sounds out of you are the slick sounds of your pre lubrant in his servo and your valve when Ratchet bottomed out inside you. You arch against Ratchet, and he jerks your spike in quick pumps and watches you overload all over your chassis and on his spike. Ratchet then rushed forward and locked his derma against your own. His glossia lapping against yours while he snapped his hips. And Ratchet overloads right in your valve while sucking on your glossia.

Ratchet pulls away from the messy kiss and huffs in heavy vents. You're venting harsh, and in the middle of your soundless vents, your vocalizor resets, and Ratchet can suddenly hear your quiet cursing. Ratchet rolls his hips, and you audibly keen- your valve twitching around his spike. Primus- Ratchet was going to need to hear how you sounded overloading on his spike a second time... and maybe a third and maybe a fourth-

Ratchet uses his credentials to lock the medbay door via his HUD and then sends a message about closing the medbay temporally.

-

Optimus is suffering. He's suffering. He is suffering! He has not known peace since his infatuation with you. And he's not known sanity since he's noticed how even more tantalizing you suddenly seemed to be. But Optimus may look- even though he has to yank his gaze away. And Optimus may fantasize- even though he doesn't let himself indulge in those thoughts. Optimus does not "snap." He may be suffering and wound terribly taunt, but you didn't need to suffer because Optimus was a filthy pervert- this was his problem, not your own! (A prime example and the only bot on earth who keeps it together yandere or not!)

Then you're in his office for something, and you ask to examine his desk- and Optimus is confused about why you would possibly need to examine his desk? But like most things involving you, he finds he can't deny you the simple request, and Optimus scoots his chair back to allow you in front of him. And then you promptly sit down right in his lap!? A startled sound escapes Optimus and his servos hover right over your frame. You're on his modesty panel- and you say you didn't think Optimus were this dense. Dense about what exactly?!

And then you admit it. Admit that you'd been purposely teasing Optimus- because you wanted him to proposition you?! Then Optimus's servos fly onto your hips when you rock on his lap. And you tell him he can throw you out If he isn't interested- and Optimus can't let you assume that so his panel is pulling back and he's pulling you upwards so his spike can pressurize correctly. The sound of just your own panel pulling back excites Optimus much more than he'd imagine it would.

Optimus's digits find your array quick, and he vents when he can feel how your valve is already wet and your spike pressurizes in no time at all. And then you ask if he wants to spike you and Optimus abruptly realizes he hadn't asked he'd just assumed you'd be willing to take his spike- After scolding himself a bit for getting caught up in his own needs- wants, Optimus asks if you'd rather spike him. Optimus's engine purrs in his chassis when you say you wanna get spiked by him right now.

Optimus has to take his time prepping you- he has to, his spike is admittedly rather large. By the time he gets two digits down to his knuckle in your valve you're squirming and making all sorts of noise in his lap- and every sweet sound out of you is going right to Optimus's spike and he's dripping pre lubricant on himself- But Optimus just savors every little reaction he gets out of you while opening you up for himself- and then he believes you'll be fine at least taking half his spike. And you're asking him to spike you, and he can't deny you when you want him almost as badly as he needs you. It's a task and then some but you've got at least half of Optimus's spike in your valve and Optimus figures he should show you how much he wants you- Show you what you'd wanted from him with all of your teasing.

Optimus starts fragging you up and down his length (it doesn't matter if you're in his frame class or maybe even bigger he's strong and he's using his matrix enhanced strength to frag you down his spike like a toy.) And Primus you feel amazing squeezing around his length so perfectly- and every noise out of you is music to his audials. Optimus is muttering praises and cooing over how darling your expression is while he's stuffing your valve with all you can take of him. (If you're big enough/trained enough that Optimus can actually bottom out inside you, he's groaning hard. And his engine revs loud.)

Optimus's em field brushes flush against you, and he's telling you how good you're being for him. His spike throbs when your optics noticeably brighten under the attention. (Sweet - you were so sweet for him-) And he starts pulling you down his spike faster and faster- You overload on his spike with a groan, and Optimus follows right after. His spike throbbing and pumping thick amounts of filling transfluid into you. His transfluid starts spilling out of your valve and into his own lap.

Stars- you were amazing...

It takes a few klicks, but eventually, Optimus shifts you up and then drops you back down again. Optimus can't help but enjoy the sight of how your spinal strut arches and how you squeeze down on him. When you question him, Optimus points out how you'd wanted this- all your hard work of teasing him was for this- so Optimus was going to make sure you were satisfied. Completely and utterly.

Was it selfish and almost completely for Optimus's own desire? Yes. But Optimus felt justified being just a touch mean to you. Especially when you'd been purposely making Optimus stress over, apparently nothing for multiple cycles. He's just- punishing you a bit. He was justified doing that. Now, wasn't he? Optimus wondered exactly how much he should punish you- but he guessed he could decide when he got there how much was too much for you, now couldn't he.

Optimus was going to make sure you were satisfied enough that you'd never try and tease him like you had again. He could do that much for you at least.

(Spoilers but Optimus frags you so hard, and so many times your frame ends up entering a forced stasis to recover.)