#back into the void i go...

[wondrous-eos]

Bathed in Light A new outfit made for Noctis. A friend showed the original one on Cloud to me and I couldn't resist. You can download the mod from Steam Workshop. 🚫 Do not repost. ⬇️4K wallpapers here.

[soepwashere]

Turtle Tot shenanigans, a harrowing encounter

bonus doodle :]

[potato-arts]

DELTARUNE [a couple days ago]

SO HOW ABOUT THOSE TWO CHAPTERS, LADS? HOW WE FEELIN?

[matchstique]

More, turtle tots.

[yxkipop]

Hello ^^

Goodbye ^^

Dream sans belongs to Joku-blog

[vervielle]

lapidot but theyre in different attire or something

[krazieka2]

big things happening on my twitter rn

[shinotail]

Realized I have not posted in awhile goooo my attempt at human loop doodles

[echoes-of-the-unknown]

These guys practically drew themselves being too sweet for words

[laundy]

sinners

[non-plutonian-druid]

So heres the thing about Dredge.

I think its a huge missed opportunity that the main character is the husband and not the wife.

the backstory doesnt come out fully until the end, but when it does, what you learn is this:

some amount of time ago, the player character was married. over the course of the game, you pick up notes from a woman, and at the end you learn that she was your wife.

*was*, because Cthulhu ate her.

you were a fisherman, and obsessed with the ocean, and she was not. you were superstitious, and she was not. And one day, she messed up and did something unlucky, and then she was lost at sea one night when she was on your boat.

it fucks you up so bad that you lose all your memory and end the world trying to save her.

so, obviously you're torn up about her, but also, it kinda didn't have anything to do with you. She fucked up and she got got. whoops! Oh well. It also didn't change very much about you: you're still a superstitious fisherman obsessed with the sea, except you're sad now.

But if you were the wife? If he died instead?

you were happily newlywed, but if you had one issue with your husband, it was that he was too married to the sea. He was too obsessed with fishing. He liked his boat too much, and he had all these sailor superstitions that you don't take seriously.

then one day, you ignore his superstitions. and a horrible eldritch force that you've never even dreamed of KILLS HIM.

your husband is DEAD and it is YOUR FAULT.

and it breaks you. So much that you take his boat, set sail, and spend your life at sea. Just like him. Embroiled in superstition and ocean magic. Just like him. Just like your least favorite parts about him. and you spend the rest of your life trying to undo the horrible thing you did, and only ever manage to end the world.

wouldn't that be so much fun?

[captain-flint]

i can be your angle or yuor devil

[canisalbus]

✦ I was never as good as I always thought I was ✦

[turtleblogatlast]

I’ve remembered that colors exist

[starlingfawn]

kgatlw bearded vulture furry.... reference for artfight

[rabotimagines]

“Responsible” GN Autobot Reader x various, Mainly Ratchet, Wheeljack, Hoist, Perceptor. [Smut Scenario]

Summary: Reader gets their obsolete heat protocols triggered during a battle. Horny shenanigans follow with some of the Autobots trying to be responsible.

G1 characters: Ratchet, Wheeljack, Hoist, Perceptor. (Various other Autobots and Decpticons are also mentioned here at the start)

Genre/Theme: Smut Scenario 🔞

Warnings: MDNI, Heat cycles and the other horny nonsense it usually entails, Voyeurism, Interface toys.

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Notes: Starts Ratchet pov and goes to Wheeljack for the most of the smut. The start of this is absolute shenanigans I will not lie to you, Spike/Valve terms used for Bot Reader, The science and Medical team on the Ark trying REAL hard not to be perverts. (They only partially succeed)

“Ratchet please-!”

“No! Get your heat ridden aft back on that berth now!” Ratchet barks out and you mutter curses the whole way back to the medical slab in the back of the medical bay. When you get there you huff and drag the privacy curtain back closed.

Rachet pinches the space between his optics and sighs harsh. His plating loosening a touch afterwards in exhaustion. What exactly else were they supposed to do about this entire mess?

It had started like any other battle via whatever new Decepticon scheme it was this month. That being the machine they’d built that exploded after you pressed the fail safe. Right before it had a chance to fire a high pressurized blast directly into the closest human city. The formula they’d used for such a high level destructive weapon ment a large and aggressive amount of energy discharge when it did explode.

And unfortunately the exact backyard mixture they’d used had a rather unfortunate effect on your frame.

Megatron had grabbed you first, dragging your limp frame upwards to use you as a hostage- Optimus stopping his failed dash for your frame to try and figure his next course of action. Megatron was in the middle of gloating and goading Optimus when he adjusted his grip on your frame and- according to Optimus- you moaned. Loud and unabashedly.

They both froze at the very obviously obscene sound and balked at your still limp frame.

Megatron jerked and stared wide opticed down at your slowly twitching frame for some reason Optimus couldn’t discern- and no sooner was Megatron shot in the helm by Powerglide flying over which sent him down and you tumbling out of his grasp. Optimus rushed and dove for your frame scooping you up and running back for cover under the sudden blaster fire. And Apparently -again according to Optimus- you almost made him trip and fall flat on his faceplate when your glossia abruptly lapped against his windshield glass. Your em field pulsing hard in want against him and the urge for anything he was willing to give you- suddenly had him assume this was what made Megatron act that way-!

Optimus had to wrestle you off of him after that with an increasing embarrassment, because every touch from him had you making rather- racy sounds in response. You had also started begging Optimus for some ahem- “Special overtime.” was the phrase Ratchet manged to get out of Optimus. Optimus did a rather quick scan of your frames internal status while you squirmed in his hold- and realized it was the explosions fault for your behavior. The abundance of energy had your virus protocols scrambling everything to dispel every ounce of heightened charge immediately as fast as it could.

Which kick started up now active “Heat” Protocols which they didn’t even realize you had-! They weren’t exactly common and were rarely activated for obvious reasons! And that had your array set as high as it possibly could get leveled too. With you attempting to get that charge out as fast as you could. Even if that was by clinging onto Optimus while his optics brightened and he was trying to dodge blaster fire. Blaster fire that lessened when bots had stopped firing to instead gawk at the loud and horny attempt you were making on your own leader. Leader who was obviously floundering and failing to get you to stop feeling him up in the middle of the battlefield.

Optimus had made it back to some of the others and Inferno had grabbed you to help get you off of Optimus. You let go of Optimus finally and instead turned your attention onto Inferno.

You shocked everyone via not waiting or asking to lock Inferno into an open mouthed kiss. Shoving your glossia in Inferno’s mouth while already trying to frot against him- Inferno’s siren sounded off in a flustered panic and Optimus had to hastily explain you weren’t exactly in control of yourself. And seemed to be under the effects of obsolete heat protocols being triggered by the energy explosion. Red Alert had to pull you off of Inferno only nearly dropping you, his frame not made to carry other mechs like Inferno or the medics were.

Taking advantage of the slightly lost grip, you just turned your greedy servos upon Red Alert instead. You didn’t hesitate to lap your glossia over the edge of one of his helm sensors. Ratchet could have been back at The Ark and Ratchet still would’ve heard the embarrassed scream that came out of their security director. Inferno had to just yank you back off Red Alert. While Red Alerts sensors were left sputtering sparks, his optics bright, and muttering incoherently.

Which had only lead to a game of pushing you onto another Autobot when your horny attention and advances got to be too much for one of them. Ratchet had tried to get a hold of you then since you were impaired and needed help sooner than later. But he kept getting blocked by blaster fire or other battlefield insanity.

And then you had gotten grabbed by Breakdown when Wildrider slammed directly into Hoist, who had a hold of you at the time and they’d all tensed. Ratchet cursed knowing they’d use you as a hostage-

Breakdown yelped when you didn’t even hesitate in turning your heat driven perversions onto the unprepared Stunticon. Your servos grabbing at his pauldron tires and squeezing was enough for Breakdown to panic- and try to get you off of him instead of trying to hold onto you. When you tried to kiss him Breakdown screamed and fell with you already clambering on top of him.

Dead End had to pull you off of Breakdown and the cycle of perversion only continued with the Decepticons now involved in your heat ridden haze.

A few of the cons actually didn’t freak out and did try and use the opportunity to take advantage of you- only to either be hit by an Autobot or even one of their own faction members telling them to get it together. But finally- finally Ratchet managed to grab a hold of you after Brawn slammed into Motormaster’s helm and Ratchet made sure to keep a hold of you- even when Decepticons tried to grab you for hostage purposes- and even more unsavory ones.

The cons finally pulled back when Optimus threw Megatron through a wall and he called for retreat.

And now Ratchet was stuck guarding the entrance to medical from you and from any other sparkdamn idiot who thought they might just “help” you with your little heat issue. He’d grabbed Sideswipe by the back of the neck and thrown him out when he tried to sneak past him. He’s also stared down Smokescreen of all bots, who froze seeing Ratchet and tried to play it off as inquiring about you. Ratchet just told him to waltz his aft back to his habsuite.

But no- it couldn’t have just been the Autobots being morons- Skywarp had decided to warp into the Ark and sneak around only to be caught by Grimlock- which had the Dinobots all chasing him out of The Ark. The Dinobots leaving a trail of destruction behind them as they went. After that the Aerial bots were set to patrol the Ark's surroundings and no sooner than a few klicks ended up in an aerial dog fight with the coneheads.

Hound by chance caught the Stunticons on the other opposite area by the base. Which thankfully the Dinobots were still hunting for Skywarp near by and promptly helped fight off the sudden appearance of Menasor.

Megatron even had the sparkdamn audacity to video call Optimus to talk- Talk of “so graciously offering” to a limited ceasefire for the duration of your sudden heat if Optimus let them “borrow” you.

That bucket helmed jackaft was lucky Ratchet wasn’t in the room for that call because he’d of ripped him a new afterburner. Though Prowl and Optimus apparently didn’t hesitate to dress him down for the nerve of the request.

Ratchet was old enough he’d had a few fleeting conversations with a few bots that had heat protocols. And he’d felt the light ever encompassing waves that their em fields would give off when the protocols were active. He had asked a few questions to the first bot he’d met with them. Wanting to know how to assist if he had to help treat a bot with it.

Ratchet was told it was like your frames on fire and you can’t think or focus on almost anything other than trying to satisfy the heat in your array. Also that the first few heats were unimaginably more difficult than the later ones. The mech he’d been talking to had said on his first heat he’d interfaced with at least five different bots in a single lunar cycle… and he had done that for multiple lunar cycles sequentially. But the mech was also in the middle of a heat cycle while talking with Ratchet. And despite the em field that was heated and almost addicting- The mech had been managing it well anyway. Seeming mostly annoyed by the entire thing as opposed to well… you in your first heat right now.

You’d already tried and failed to get into Ratchets array panel more times than he could count. Desperation not diminished in the slightest due to your overcharged array and obsolete code running in your frames make up. You’d tried flirting, to asking, to begging him to help you- and it was driving Ratchets stress levels through the sparkdamn roof! The last thing Ratchet would want for any of his patients was to keep them suffering but- you were impaired and couldn’t make rational decisions at the moment.

As far as Ratchet knew he couldn’t trust you to not run out into the woods and pop your panel for whatever con happened to be the closest- let alone make a correct judgment of consent.

Ratchet groaned when his com pinged, fully expecting to be alerted of yet another failed attempt from the Decepticons. But Ratchet was pleasantly surprised by the message in his com.

“Have a possible solution for their array. Can you bring ‘em to the lab?”

Wheeljack messaged back finally about trying to find a way to break you out of your heat. Perceptor and Hoist were also assigned to help- and also assure Wheeljack not blow anything up in the mean time. Ratchet looked at the closed privacy curtain, his audials catching what he knew was you again self servicing trying to get some type of relief.

Ratchet approached and pulled the curtain aside to be met with you on your side and three of your own digits shoved into your own valve, array utterly soaking wet with pre lubricants. Spike heavy and twiching, already leaking a small puddle of pre lubricant on the medical slab. Ratchets optic ridge only twitched having seen you in almost every compromising position in these past few days.

Almost.

“Up. We’re going to the lab.” Ratchet stepped forward but you only groaned and shoved your digits further inside your valve. Your valve mesh easily parting due to your own arousal to take the intrusions even deeper.

“Why?” You mumbled and huffed, your plating tensing and fluffing over the abundance of over stimulation you were in.

“We may have a fix for your heat. Wheeljack wants me to bring you to the lab.”

“Don’t wanna…” You mumbled like some pouting youngling- and Ratchet can feel his optic ridge crease in annoyance.

Ratchet was very aware you were in a- delicate state and that state made it hard for you to do much else other than think of fragging or getting fragged. That energy in your frame could be partially discharged with another system or in this case another frame. It didn’t necessarily need to be someone else’s spike or valve.

Ratchet was really going to have to give you an inch here so you’ll help yourself, wasn’t he?

Huffs and your other soft noises drowned out much else in the room.

“If- you behave on the way over to the lab and keep your panel closed the entire way there- You’ll get a reward afterwards... And is will be for your array.” Ratchet made sure to stress. Your frame perks and your optics now focused to lock directly onto his.

You realize he’s serious and immediately roll over on your front and pull your digits out of yourself. “Ill be good-!”

Ratchet hopes you’re right! If he had to drag you off another bot after releasing you from the room he was going to make you know exactly how mad he is at you.

-

Perceptor had came over to help Ratchet in transporting you to the lab and he met you both right outside the medbay. Your designation leaves him at the sight of you “Salutations- How have you been fairing over your latent heat protocols being activated?” He slightly tilted his helm, definitely trying to ask for educational purposes.

Your plating twitched and your optics zero’d in on Perceptor. Your gaze slowly dragging down his frame. Ratchet mentally prepared himself to inevitably having to drag you off of Perceptor. But you didn’t pounce onto the microscope.

“Struggling.” You said blunt. “So Percy- Wanna frag till I can’t think about anything but your spike hitting my ceiling node?” Oh, for Primus sake-!

“Oh my-!” Perceptor recoiled a bit and his optics widened and brightened a good few levels when he comprehended what you’d just said.

“What did I say about behaving?!” Ratchet grabbed you by a gap in your chassis armor.

“I am behaving, I’m staying by you and keeping my panel closed. I'm just flirting.”

“That’s not flirting-! That’s you propositioning him!”

“Well you didn’t say I couldn’t do that either.” Your optics darted back to Perceptor “Or would you want my spike-” Ratchet started shaking you before you could finish what you were saying with your filthy no filter heated processor.

Perceptor reset his vocalizor loudly and cycled his optics. “I am- well aware of the effects a heat can have on a bot- let alone the tribulations the first heat will inflict upon a frame. So I…” Perceptor crossed his arms. “Shall not fault you for the inappropriate outbursts from you that are clearly driven by your heat.”

“Great so knowing I don’t have to feel bad about this- Percy, has anyone ever told your red would look lovely stained pink-?” Ratchet grabbed onto you with his other servo too and shook you harder this time. Perceptor’s optics brightened further and he raised a fist up in front of his own mouth while his optic ridge lightly creased.

When Ratchet stopped shaking you he scoffed pushing you forward. “Walk you overzealous heat ridden turbo fox.” Perceptor nodded at Ratchet and turned to cover the front while you all walked to the lab.

You thankfully did behave and kept your panel closed for the duration of the trip to the lab.

-

“Do you really think this will work?” Hoist muttered staring at the invention they’d made together.

“I mean it’s all we got right now besides handling it the uh- ol' fashioned way.” Wheeljack shrugged “Worth a try, ain’t it?” Really the worst that could happen is it wouldn’t help any, then they’d all just have to go back to the drawing board and think up something else to help you.

The lab door opened and Wheeljack glanced to see you being lead in by Perceptor and Ratchet. They make their way over to Hoist and him as soon as you guys saw ‘em.

“Hey, how ya doing?” Wheeljack smiled at you.

“Like I need to overload.” You bluntly remarked. “At least staring at Perceptor's aft on the way over here was a good distraction.”

Perceptor sounded like he’d choked on his own oral lubricant before he covered his faceplate with his own servo and looked anywhere but you. While Ratcheet looked like he was a nano-klick away from grabbing you and forcibly shorting your vocalizor.

“Well! I have great news then-!” Wheeljack clapped once and held his servos out towards- his new invention in the form of the false spike he had sitting upwards on the table. “Me, Hoist, And Perceptor think you might just need to overload enough times to get your frame to stop thinking it needs to burn out your interface protocols. So we-”

“Mostly Wheeljack-” Perceptor murmured still refusing to meet your gaze- And Wheeljack gets the embarrassment to a degree but c’mon! Being embarrassed about it wasn’t gonna help ya any!

“Yes mostly me designed this- But it’s basically a false spike with some neat extras. It throbs and twitches and even overloads fake lubricant to mimic transfluid.”

“And it’s got it’s own system set up so It will be able to respond and absorb some of the charge you’re putting out in your array because of the heat.” Hoist tacked on at the end.

“Is this why you wanted an immediate portion of the interface lubricant I keep in the medbay? For a frag toy?” Ratchet stared at him and Wheeljack knew it was the “I’m very disappointed in your current thought process and need to weld that fact into you with my optics.” Expression.

“Well, we were still work shopping a name for it but well- ha, that’s basically what it is. It’s just a basic design for a false spike and with one optimal addition for a spike if you wanna also service that at the same- woah-!” Wheeljack stopped short when you pounced directly onto the table on all fours.

“Finally-!” You cursed and your modesty panel snapped back- Your own pre lubricants immediately started cutting slick tracks down your own inner thighs and even dripping right onto the table top. Your spike pressurizing so quickly Wheeljack was wondering how you even kept your panel closed to begin with.

Peceptor sounded like he’d choked on his own glossia this time “G-Good gracious-!”

Ratchet said your designation sharp, “Get off the-!” Ratchet didn’t finish before you got your valve over the spike and Ratchet grunted when the toys head slipped into your hole and you dropped down the toys length fast. “Oh, for the love of-”

“Oh dear-! Not too fast you might hurt yourself!” Hoist tried to caution you, but Wheeljack was stuck staring when your thighs touched the back of your own pedes. Your valve almost flat against the table top and taking almost the entire thing near instantly. When the false spike bottomed out your mouth fell open and your glossia touched your bottom derma- a deep groan that sounded like it probably came out of your spark chamber tumbled out.

Your servos found purchase against the edge of the table and you didn’t waste any time pulling back off the false spike. “Frag- yeah, yeah-!” Wheeljack watched you start bouncing yourself up and back down the toys length, your heavy spike bopping in the open air every jerk back down. So he’s obviously focused enough that he can see the drop of pre lubricant that falls off your spike head and hits the table top to join in making a mess, along with the rest of your fluids.

Your spike- right! “Uh- right the other attachment!” Wheeljack cleared his vocalizor, remembering why they’d done all this in the first place and tries to ignore his own array trying to kick start a charge itself. He pulls the other part of their plan out of his subspace, “Tada! It’s a spike sleeve! And its got some uh- real neat settings.”

You actually whimpered in response “Wheeljack-!” And Wheeljack feels his optics brighten and his finials flash.

“Alright- You don’t gotta beg or nothin’!” Wheeljack closes the distance and tries to put the toy on your throbbing spike- but you just keep bouncing on the false spike! It doesn’t help that you keep preemptively rutting your hips, making him miss- and he ends up dragging teasing frots of the outside of the toy against your spike. You don’t seem to mind the clumsiness- just gasping and cursing from the limited friction on your spike.

“Wheeljack just- here!” A red servo grasps over his own thats around the spike sleeve. Ratchet steadies Wheeljack's servo and Ratchets free servo grabs your hip and tries to still you- Ratchet says your designation with a bitten curse. “Hold still.” Ratchet uses his “no arguments” voice and you actually do sorta listen to him and slow down. You don’t stop but with how you were slamming down on the toy Wheeljack's surprised you were even doing that!

Wheeljack watches as Ratchet helps him line up the sleeve then helps him slide the toy onto your spike- You grunt and then whine when the sleeve registers your spike and immediately tries to milk you for everything you’ve got. Well at least it works-

Wheeljack gasps when you bounce with more force and the toy almost slides right off your spike entirely. Wheeljack forces the sleeve back down your spike so it doesn’t slip off and you groan openly when the sleeve touches your pelvis. Your spike tip peaking out of the other open end of the sleeve teasingly.

“Wheeljack- How exactly is this supposed to stay?” Ratchet asks, this time ready to help Wheeljack to keep you from bucking the sleeve right off the next slide back down the toy spike you take. The sleeve making a sound after being slathered in your spikes pre lubricant.

“Uh- Well…” Wheeljack didn’t really think you’d be this uh- drenched with fluids.

“Wheeljack-!”

“Sorry-! Uh foresight and all that-!” Wheeljack did not need to look to know Ratchet was glaring at him. Which was good because Wheeljack was a little bit caught up watching you. Wheeljack was short enough and with you on the table he can clearly see your stretched valve clench down on the toy and he can also see the false spike throb which only makes you curse.

“Is it open at the end?” Hoist asks and he’s closer- so Wheeljack glances up and sees Hoist peeking over Ratchets pauldron to stare down at the toys and how they were both working your array. His visor just slightly brighter than it usually would be- If they were doing literally anything else Wheeljack would just think it was nothing. But instead Wheeljack can see Hoist's plating twitch when you moan on your next slide back off the toys girth. “I thought we'd decided on a closed model. Won’t that-… make a mess when they overload?”

“It was- A practical design choice for- well” Perceptor's voice is real close to his audial so Wheeljack can only assume he’s leaning over Wheeljack's pauldron to keep the view. “Clean up for the toy mostly- also so the sleeve wont overheat on accident.”

Wheeljack watches your spike tip kiss the back open end of the toy at the mention of it- trying to keep his servo steady so it won’t slide right off. Because if Ratchet weren’t holding his own grip over Wheeljacks- Well... Wheeljack would’ve probably worked to milk your spike at the same pace as your desperate hips were fragging yourself back down the false spike.

Speaking of which the toy actually slips out of your valve on your next slide up and your hips jut making the false spike slide past your aft. “Frag- frag-!” You try and reposition the spike back inside you on the next slide down- and the toy doesn’t catch on your hole and slides against your inner thigh making you whine. “Please- please-! Please-” You start begging and thankfully someone else steps up to help before him. So Wheeljack doesn’t have to feel guilty about being so hot and bothered and also a pervert for trying to get the toy back into your soaked valve.

Hoist was thankfully that pervert instead. “Hold on just-” Hoist rests his modified arm on your knee, the barrel of his attachment almost brushing against Ratchets servo- (which Wheeljack just lately realized was still gripping your hip) Hoist's servo grabs the base of the toy. Than he angles the spike when you lift your hips, your helm instinctively tilting to see the movement between your thighs. The spike head slots between your valve mesh and catches on the rim of your hole.

“Yes- yeah!” You moan loud but the sound still isn’t loud enough to drown out the sound of the toy sinking back into your soaked valve. Hoist grunts when you sink back down fast enough he can’t pull his servo back yet and you end up sitting down right on his palm. Hoist getting a full grip of your aft when the toy runs out of length.

Hoist does pull his servo away ....after three more full drops of your hips anyway. Hoist's gun muzzle was still on your thigh though-

Yeah, Wheeljack’s kinda glad they were taking care of this now. He could only imagine what would’ve happened if they’d left you loose in The Ark like this. Another greedy drag of your hips has the toy bottoming back out in your seemingly insatiable valve yet again. The toy utterly soaked in your own fluids and slick drenching your inner thighs. The mess you’ve made out of the table top and your own valve right here for anyone to see.

Wheeljack can’t exactly stop himself from imaging you bouncing down one of their actual spikes, when he thinks about them not being quick enough to stop you from going off on your horny lonesome. Maybe getting up to it with one of them and it turning into one big frag session for anyone that wanted to join. Wheeljack doesn’t exactly think all the other Autobots would have the same level of will power as them. Though even with that said-

Wheeljack can feel Perceptor's own em field that’s just coaxing against his own frame due to how close they are to each othet right now- and he can blatantly feel the arousal peeking out from it. Wheeljack hears an audible swallow on his side from the other when you moan again. He also hears Perceptor's plating softly clink like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Ratchet wasn’t glaring at him anymore optics focusing on your over active array- optics flickering from spike to your valve. And maybe he was imaging it, but Wheeljack swears Ratchet’s servo over his own starts speeding up how quickly they were dropping the sleeve down your spike.

Wheeljack’s optics follow Ratchets other servo on your hip to the muzzle of Hoists gun attachment still resting heavy on your thigh. And Wheeljack knows he’s not imagining Hoist’s muzzle trying to follow the rhythm you’d set. His modified arm almost lightly urging you down every time you sank back down the toy.

Yeah... at least Wheeljack’s not the only perv here.

You groan openly and Wheejacks rather abruptly dragged right out of his observations when you still and paw at the table and start overloading unabashedly. Ratchet jerks to the side to avoid getting your transfluid on him. Thick heavy ropes of your transfluid shoot out of the gap in the top of the spike sleeve with every throb of your spike. Pink streaked out onto the floor and on part of the table and- oh yeah the toy’s features!

You bite down on your bottom derma and keen when the false spike registers the overload and throbs, spilling lubricant right into your waiting valve. Lubricant and your valves slick treks out of your hole and onto the table top making an even bigger mess. When your overload stops racking your frame your mouth opens and you start panting rapid vents. The air near your mouth fogging from the heat of your own frame and your glossia dusting your bottom derma. A stray string of drool rolls down your own throat cables. Expression blissed out of it and obviously satisfied.

Wheeljack registers wet on his digit and looks down at the sleeve.

There's a stray string of your transfluid that rolled down your spike tip and down the edge of the sleeve- and down to where Wheeljack's servo was resting. Wheeljack can feel Ratchet's servo twitch over his own when you groan again.

And Ratchet says he wasn’t the responsible kind...