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Rung the Psychiatrist

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Nautica and BJ

Nautica gave a breathless laugh, eyes lidded. “Didn’t think you’d be into this kind of thing, doc.”


Rung emitted a muffled laugh as he hollowed his cheeks and took the spike a bit deeper again.


Nautica let out an adorable squeak as her spike was encompassed nearly to the base with a smooth, swallow.


Sliding into Rung's mouth was like slipping your spike into some hot exquisite oil. His mouth was so, so good…


Nautica whimpered as she felt Rung's tongue caress the bottom and his teeth lightly scrape over the base.


Primus, if Rung lived on Caminus, he would get his aft pounded in all around the clock-


Nautica gave a hiccup of pleasure as she felt the suction begin. Rung hummed as he took the spike deep, massaging Natutica’s inner thighs.


The quantum engineer let out a whimpering cry as she felt Rung begin periodically swallowing, the throat cables squeezing her spike precariously before releasing rhythmically.


Rung eventually let up, his lips suckling and caressing the tip, while pumping the base. Nautica bucked her hips twice and cried out.


Rung purred as he swallowed down the transfluid, and began cleaning up the few streaks that dribbled down Nautica's spike. “Does Caminus specialize in femmes as sweet as you? I’ll have to make a short stop later on, if that’s so.”

Froid hearing of this mysterious interface god mech and he just knows to his horror that it’s Rung. (Again, characterization might be shit)

Froid grinned as he rubbed his hands together.


Candles? Check.


Romantic music? Check.


Energon? Check.


Proper berth sheets, that can easily wash away the… ahem , dirtiness the morning after? Check.


Froid sat down in his chair and laughed to himself. He was ready; Primus, he was so ready.


It took some hard work to find the comm number of the mech that “performed miracles with his interface equipment”, “fragged your world upside down” and not to mention “wouldn’t leave off until you were wailing or passed out.”


Froid liked what he heard about this mech. Very much.


So when he called this mysterious interface god, the voice that purred over the comm nearly had him overloading in his panel.


The mech didn’t give a name, but Froid, oh, he was ready to make sure that the mech screamed his.


The doorbell rang and Froid ran to answer.


Primus yes, he was so ready-


Rung stood there, previously seductive expression suddenly falling away into shock as soon as he saw Froid’s faceplates.


Froid simultaneously felt his boner wilt and die.


Rung meekly looked at the datapad in his hand.


“Please don’t tell me that you’re IceColdBaby647.”


Froid’s optics were blown white. “ WHAT ?!”

Red Alert secretly watching him frag someone and fantasizing himself in that position

Red Alert sat forward in his chair, optics wide and hands clenching at the stress ball within his hand.


The stress ball was a gift from Tailgate, a thanks for the “great, awesome job he did as Security Director.”


Red Alert was so pleased by the gesture that he scanned the ball for bugs, monitoring gear, poison, scraplets, and triggers only six times.


And now he was doing the regular sweep on the cameras.


Making sure that every inch of the room was covered (thanks to the extra cameras that he installed) Red Alert squeezed the ball in his hands, trying to relieve the building panic in his spark.


This happened every time he did a sweep of the ship. He felt for sure as if he was going to catch a stowaway, or murderous Decepticons, or Primus knew what else.


And even if he caught nothing, the panic continued to build. Like what if the bad guys on the ship wanted to lull him into a false sense of security? What if they had finally engineered Mirage's ability? What if they finally found a blind spot in his cameras? What if they were right outside his door now?


The ball was squeezed so hard, Red Alert heard his servo’s creak.


Suddenly, as he scanned the area near Rung’s room, he paused as he picked up on a sound.


A sound that only he could hear. Oh Primus.


Rung was being attacked! The most defenseless bot on the ship! Quick! Switch to his secret cameras! Oh Primus, oh primus oh primus oh-




Red Alert paused as he realized that Rung was simply talking with Atomizer. Oh. OK. Weird couple to be spotted having a casual conversation, but whatever. He’d seen Tailgate continuously trail Cyclonus’ tailpipe.


Based on Atomizer’s position, the body language, he could tell the former designer was flirting with Rung. Red Alert switched the volume on.


“-Yeah, so I’m like, the total best at helping someone with their paint job, and honestly, I think you need a lil' touch up doc.”


Rung tilted his head sideways and grinned coyly. “Oh?”


Atomizer straightened up eagerly. “But y’know, I can help you if you’d like?”


Rung clasped his hands together and his faceplate lifted gently in a smile. “That would be lovely,  Atomizer. When would you like to do it?”


Atomizer made an exaggerated show of contemplating his options, using his servos and everything. He rubbed his chin in contemplation. “Hmmm… Well, I wouldn’t want to carry the supplies, seeing as they could get damaged in the journey… Oh I know! Why don’t you come over to my place?”


Red Alert sputtered. No. No! Bad idea! Bad idea! Don’t do it Rung!


Rung smiled. “I would love to. Lead the way Atomizer.”


The other bot's optics lit up, and he opened the door for Rung.


The two made their way to Atomizer’s quarter’s, a fairly long walk. Red Alert frantically following them with the camera’s. He kept Ultra Magnus’ comm frequency on speed dial. He could hear his spark drumming frantically. When they finally arrived, Red Alert was clenching his stress ball so hard, it had disappeared.


As the two made their way into the room, Red Alert could practically hear the leering grin that was probably plastered on Atomizer’s face.


Aw, frag, he didn’t install cameras in that mech's room! Frag, frag, frag, frag-


Wait! It wasn’t too late! He remembered that he had did a customary drill in each and everyone’s rooms from the very beginning! He could peep in to see what Rung and Atomizer were doing!


Mind set, Red Alert gathered a single camcorder and raced from the Security office to Atomizer’s room.


Unfortunately, the whole journey ate up ten minutes, even with Red Alet running at full speed.


Upon finally arriving, Red Alert immediately stoop down and peeped through the hole, camcorder activated and ready to film evidence that his former psychiatrist was being molested.


But he didn’t really expect to see what he did now.


It took a few seconds to process, but his limbs went almost instantly weak and his mouth dry.


Atomizer was completely tied down to his berth, ropes wrapped around his frame and his arms restrained to the wall. Atomizer's panel was closed, but Red Alert could see a gleam that signaled that he was clearly wet and soaking beneath.


Rung sat behind him, calmly, casually handling a crop.


The weapon whistled through the air, connecting with Atomizer’s aft with a sharp crack . The mech beneath him arched and let out a weak cry. Red Alert recognized the static filled sound that was associated with a mech that had a voice inhibitor strapped to their vocalizer’s.




“Now then, Atomizer.” A small voice cooed out. “What have we learned about taking advantage of seemingly helpless bots?”


A weak whimper flowed out. Another crack of the crop had Atomizer arching up and crying out his answer. “D-don’t take advantage-!”


The crop whistled down so hard that Red Alert winced. Atomizer screamed as the electricity charged metal connected with his pelvic panel.


The sudden influx of pain and energy had Atomizer’s system in a shock. Unable to cope with the sudden barrage of agony and arousal, the bowman’s back arched and he cried out in overload.


Atomizer's panel wa still closed. The transfluid had nowhere to go except to slowly seep through the seams. It trailed down Atomizer's thighs, mixing with the fluid that seeped from his valve.


Rung shook his head in disappointment. “I always knew you were trouble, but being as naughty as to overload through pain? My, my my…."


The crop was set down on the floor. Rung coerced Atomizers’s spike panel open and gave the spike a few languid strokes to bring the mech to full mast. Rung began to rub the lips of Atomizer's valve.


“But I am nothing, but forgiving, dear one. I think you’ve learned your lesson. You deserve a reward now, don’t you?”


Atomizer nodded rapidly. His voice sank into a groan as Rung released his own panel and his erect spike emerged. The psychiatrist slowly pushed himself in, a small smile still on his lips. As Atomizer adjusted, Rung began to pump his hips, restraining the other mech's hips to prevent him from moving.


Red Alert watched the entire thing with his mouth agape and mind in turmoil. Was this really his psychiatrist? 


Rung suddenly thrusting. He pulled himself out slowly, grin only becoming wider as his spike exited with a small pop! and Atomizer's groan of loss. He turned his body back and grinned directly at Red Alert.


The security mech felt as if he was suddenly going to collapse from a spark attack. He felt light-headed.


“This could be you.” Rung cooed. “Just open the door; it isn’t locked now.”


Red Alert ran away before his frame could betray his mind.

Orion Fantasizing about what he missed that day when he refused Rung

“Dammit! I should have fragged that cutie!”


“You always get like this when you’re drunk, Orion, let’s just get you home-”


“Shud-up Roller.”


Rung is in a horrible heat cycle and has locked himself away so he doesn't go around on a fuck-rampage because he's just started a nice relationship with Fort Max etc but he does break out one night and drags himself to Swerve's bar where he's muttering obscenities (like "Swerve, can I suck your spike?") and Swerve is super nervous and thinks he's kidding but Skids encourages him to say yes and they basically end up going to Swerve's room when the bar closes and have a threesome and Swerve is nervous and afraid he's doing something wrong, Skids has a crush on Rung (doesn't tell him) and Rung just wants to frag them both and it's over the top and completely silly, You don't have to write exactly that, don't worry, but this is from a long thing I once made and maybe it can be of help if you don't know what to do, but you really don't need to keep any of this in mind

Rung hissed as he curled around the pillow on his berth.


This particular heat was rather intense.


He considered calling Fortress Maximus to… ahem, help him with his delicate situation, but the warden was still in the brig serving his sentence.


Frag, a mech had needs and who was going to step in to fulfill them for him?!


Opps. Had he shouted that aloud? Yes, it would appear he did.


Maybe if he continued curling in his current fetal position he could magically have a solution pop out.




Unfortunately magic was not abundant aboard the Lost Light. Rung finally dragged himself outside his quarters and made a solemn march to Swerve’s.


There had to be someone who wanted to frag him. If not, someone drunk and horny enough. He didn’t particularly care.


Swerve sat at his regular spot, polishing some glasses. Oh look at that, he was also talking to Skids. “Hey Rung! Finally out and about, are you?” Skids had just raised his arm to wave hello at the psychiatrist.


Rung slammed both hands on top of the counter, knocking over two cleaned shot glasses, and looked Swerve dead in the eyes.


“Swerve, I don’t give a flying frag what your preferences are. I’m going to be sucking your spike while Skids pounds into me from behind by the time this bar closes. If you accept this offer, you can make your way to me when the bar closes.”


Dragging himself to a table a relative distance away, Rung collapsed in it. It was a shame he never looked up. Skids had a smile that looked like it had died and went rancid on his face. Swerve was opening and closing his mouth, but no sound was coming out.


Swerve choked. “Skids? Was that a prank or something?”


Grabbing Swerve by the cheeks, the theotactician hissed in the bartender’s audio receptors. “Swerve, the nerd with glasses is asking to frag us . Whether it's a prank or not, do you want to pass this opportunity up?!”


Swerve took in the sight of a shivering Rung. “N-no..?”


“Bring the lube and drinks. I’ll make a quick trip to my room to introduce the toys.”


“Yeah, good idea!”




Rung moaned around Swerve’s spike as Skid’s spike slide pass a cluster of nodes. Swerve’s legs were quivering as he felt that soft and fluid glossa lap the base of his spike.


Rung’s face was a picture of ecstasy, optics dimmed, cheeks heated.


Skids panted behind Rung. “Primus, knew you were soft inside and out…! Oh Primus…”


Swerve shook his head in wonder. How the frag did they end up in this situation again?!

Rodimus tries to come up with a kink that Rung cannot possibly be into because he feels like embarrassing him.

Rodimus poured over the datapads, chewing his fingertips.


“Alright… Maybe we can try the foot thing…? No, we already did that!”


Swiping his finger across the list, he deleted yet another kink from his mental checklist.


“Hmmm… Oil play? That sounds fun!”


Rodimus slammed his forehead into the desk.


“Except we did that last week!”


Rodimus continued to scroll through the list before his eyes landed on his saviour. “Yes! This might work!”


A slender hand suddenly plucked the datapad out of his servos.


Rodimus felt his mouth go dry as he saw Rung look over his selected option with a little smirk on his face.


“My, my Rodimus… I never suspected that you wanted to be humiliated like this…”



Swindle and something with negotiations.

Swindle looked over the datapad with an raised optic ridge. “Are you sure you have the funds to back this order up?”


Rung smiled back. “Oh, I didn't think I was talking about credits Swindle.”


The arms dealer glanced down at the Autobot. “Well, I guess I could do some trades, but you better have something rare and special.”


Rung opened the door to his office with a gentle smile. “But of course. If you would please.”


Swindle felt a brief moment of danger, but he dismissed it. What was this scrawny little psychiatrist going to do anyway? Pft.


Entering the room, he did a customary scan of hidden weapons or traps.


There were none. Not surprising. It looked like your regular old habsuite. Not a lot of room to fit or modify weapons without some obvious signs.


Rung pressed a button on the wall. The furthest wall from the door suddenly shifted, preparing to turn over to show what was hidden behind.


Rung went over to the door. Swindle found himself transfixed to see what Rung had hidden.


When it finally flipped over, he nearly choked.


Displayed, like Rung’s model ships, were all varying shapes and sizes of interface toys. Some so exotic Swindle believed had gone extinct when the war broke



The door clicked, signifying its lock.


Swindle glanced back at Rung, who stood with a little smile.


“You’re welcome to pick whatever you wish. However, the only catch…”


Rung held up a small camcorder.


“ that I film the entire thing.”




Lockdown lay beside Swindle, smoking his customary cy-gar after another awesome frag with the arms dealer.


“So let me get this straight. You self-serviced with toys in front of an Autobot psychiatrist, then walked away and gave him everything he ordered?”


“Lockdown, this mech was… He was… Holy frag! Those eyebrows practically compelled me to do everything he ordered! If you ever encounter him, swear to me that you’ll have a taste at least.”


Lockdown chuckled. “Of course, of course...”



DJD. DJ DJDJDJ DJD DJD DJD DJD because I am a kinky fucker (This is ultra stupid I am so sorry)

Tarn held up a hand at Kaon’s ramblings. “Kaon, would you please speak slower, I am not a processor reader.”


“It’s terrible Tarn! This mech.. he’s brought Tesarus and Helex to their knees! Vos is being defeated while we are speaking! I sent him back to make sure I had time to warn you!”


Tarn readied his fusion cannon. “Let’s go meet this warrier shall we?”


Kaon shuffled behind Tarn, his face a mask of abject terror. Tarn arrived at the door, hearing…


Oh Primus. Vos was moaning. He scarcely heard the scientist ever utter a single sound in pain or torture. Maybe they were dealing with something new here.


But this nonsense ended now. He was Tarn, the leader of the DJD. He was going to skin the mech alive for what he did to his comrades.


Kicking the door open, Tarn paused for a single reason. Wanting to catch sight and identify this mystery bot before he tore the mech into unrecognizable pieces


What he saw instead was something very different indeed.


Helex and Tesarus were tied with energon ropes in a most erotic fashion. The binds making sure to wrap and restrain their interface equipments in the most intimate way.


The two gigantic mechs were forced to grind against each other as a way to relieve charge.


Vos was tied to a chair, arms propped up with rope, legs propped up on a spreader. The sniper was forced to look at his captor and what the mech did to his interface equipment.


His captor, being a small bot using one servo to tease and spread the scientist’s valve lips, while using the other was rubbing Vos’ external node.




The mystery mech turned toward him. “Ah. So you brought back the one that ran away?”


That soft voice. Tarn felt his valve instinctively contract and spike harden. Kaon whimpered behind him.


“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable Tarn? I can promise you that your patience will be rewarded in time.”


Picking up a vibrator orb from seemingly nowhere, he ground it against Vos’ valve, gently pushing until the object slid in with a wet pop. Vos arched his back and shrieked.



Rung actually not being in control for once and being complete pudding in someone’s hands (not actual pudding. Please don’t kill him.)


Rung bit his ballgag, stifling a small whimper. His optics were covered with a sensor deprivement, leaving his frame for anyone to please. Absolutely anyone.


Now here was a first. The hunter becoming the hunted if you will.


Rung’s pedes curled as he felt a small hand began gently stroking away at his spike.


Oh Primus, what he couldn’t take was the slow pace… He was so used to the feeling of having what he wanted in an instant..!


The clamps on his valve lips and external node suddenly buzzed with a small jolt of electricity right afterward. Rung jumped, barely stifling his scream.


“C’mon Rung; I know you can take more than this! You know not to squirm when I tell you not to!”


Rung managed to communicate a small sound through the gag.


“Maybe Cyclonus here can teach you a lesson on orders and how to obey them.”


Rung felt himself roughly flipped over and his face connect with the ground. A hard spike slid in, uncaring of preparation or anything of the sort. It hit the end of his valve before brutally pounding away. A clawed hand gripped his spike hard and dug into his sensitive tip.


It was the hottest thing Rung over felt. His three overloads in succession proved the feeling mutual.


In the end, Rung panted as Tailgate removed the blinds and cuddled against his frame. Cyclonus held the two against him, searching for any damage on the smaller duo.


“Are you alright doc? I hope you don’t mind; me and Cyclonus like to go the extra mile when it comes to bots like you.”


Rung simply panted, frame still steaming from his previous workout. “Oh no, Tailgate, I am not the least bothered…”


This one’s kinda elaborate maybe, but: Shattered Glass Rung enters the regular dimension and replaces Rung for a bit and thinks he can plunge the ship into chaos but like Skids or Fort Max (or both) show up and frag him senseless (”just how we discussed”) and SGRung decides “okay apparently regular Rung is a weird fucker” afterwards

Rung grinned as he tied up his still struggling counterpart and threw him into the closet. Giving the other Rung a saucy wink he punched the other Rung unconscious and slammed the door closed.


Walking through the office, he shook his head at the pitiful decor. Ugh . There were even model ships. What kind of sad, lonely, fuck was his counterpart? He should have come to this universe and killed him a long time ago. Hell, it was a mercy kill at this point.


Rung looked around him in disgust. Primus, why did he even bother stealing the dimension breaker from Perceptor in the first place? This was just depressing.


At least he could still go home whenever he wished. Remembering why he even came here in the first place, he retrieved the dimensional breaker portal gun from the ground and tucked it away. It was time to fuck things up.


Rung walked out of the office and into the main hallway.


Well, at least outside was better than “his” office. This Rung's room didn’t even have splattered guts, a result of Skid’s short fuse.


“Hey Rung!”


Flinching, he turned around to catch sight of the theotactician and that gigantic hulking behemoth.


Frag! Skids was going to kill him, or beat him up for whatever reason..!


Skids swooped down and gave him a gentle kiss on the mouth. Rung froze.




Breaking the kiss, Skids grinned at him. “C’mon. Let’s head over to Max’s quarter's. He has more space over there.”


Leaning down, Skids gave Rung a dirty leer. “Or would you prefer your office? I know what a kinky frag you are, doc.”




“W-What are you two even talking about?!”


Fortress Maximus raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you wanted us to surprise you Rung.”


Skids looked at Rung. “Are you serious? You wanted to do it that way?”


Fortress Maximus rumbled. “I don’t think I want to change Skids. I think I want what Rung promised us.”


Skid’s look of surprised innocence faded away into something that turned Rung’s struts weak.


“You know what? I think I want to have what Rung here promised us as well. More specifically, to “let Skids and Max use me until my aft is dented in from all your thrusts.”


Rung’s lower lip wobbled as he saw two mech advance unto him.




Rung couldn’t explain exactly what happened after those two shoved him into Fortress Maximus' room in words.


There was certainly fragging, and then there was that heavenly piece of Cybertopia those two mech bestowed upon him.


Rung’s favourite part was when Fortress Maximus made Skids swallow his spike and have Rung spike the theotactician. Finally.


Both of his fantasies coming to life before his optics. Fortress Maximus growing a spinal strut for once and dominating that psychotic theotactician until the mech whimpered beneath him. Rung particularly enjoyed pinching Skid's external node until the mech sobbed beneath him and overloaded.


Rung made his way back to the office (bow-legged) and unlocked the closet, letting out the bound psychiatrist.


Rung looked down at his unconscious counterpart and shook his head.


What a kinky, weird fucker.


Retrieving his remote, he pressed the button, opening the portal back his ship.


Grinning to himself, he walked back, with a finger on his mouth, pondering all that those two lovely mechs had taught him.


Maybe it was time to give Whirl a little treat for his progress.


Sunstreaker being super stressed because his finish gets ruined but the fragging is so damn good

Sunstreaker growled at the state of paint in front of his body mirror. Great. Fan- fragging -tastic.


It was going to take the most of the day to buff out the paint transfers. All the horrendous orange on his aft and pelvic plate. For obvious reasons.


Some orange on his face as well; when that little minx started grinding against his faceplates, demanding to eaten out.


And nearly all the paint rubbed off his-


A slender pair of arms wrapped itself around his midsection. A small pale face peered at him through the mirror's reflection, glasses off.


“Round two, handsome?”


Sunstreaker gave Rung a grin.


Maybe he should be more concerned about his paint right now, but pounding in that cutie’s valve seemed to be the number one priority right now.

Knockout from TFP

Shaking his head, Knockout headed down the corridor to his medical bay, whacking a hysterical Vehicon out of the way with his electrical baton.


He caught the Vehicon stuttering something about an “Autobot interfacing machine” before officially deciding he was done.


He swore sometimes the Vehicons were messed in the processor. Maybe he’d do a scan of them next time.


Opening the door to his medical bay had Knockout dropping his datapad in shock.


Orgy. Full on, damn orgy happening in his medical bay right now.


In the middle of it? That scrawny Autobot they picked up a few solar cycles back.


The Autobot was sucking a Vehicon’ spike while bouncing on another’s. The amount of transfluid on the mech’s body was disturbing.


Looking toward Knockout, the mech removed his glasses, mouth popping off the spike. He gave Knockout the lewdest smirk imaginable, his chops a lick, open mouth showing the copious transfluid lingering on glossa. He closed his mouth, gave a huge gulp, before opening his mouth again to show the absence of liquid.


Knockout barely had time to send Breakdown a comm ping before he was dragged into the room.



Fixit from RID


Rung smiled down at the tiny mech, tinier than most.


“Why hello. New to Cybertron are you?”


The small bot grinned at him unabashely.


“Yep! I’m so zappy-kappy-happy to be here!”


Oh, a speech impediment.


Perfect. He was going to force this mech to count to ten without stuttering before he allowed him to overload. And if he messed up, it was back to one.


“Perhaps you’d like to come into my office for some small talk-”





Tarn having phone sex with him

“I bet you’re dripping in your own fluids right now aren’t you?”


“Ahhh, yes…”


“And I’m willing to bet my life you’re feeling that special voice of mine right down to your spark right now, aren’t you?”




“I possess you inside and out, don’t I Rung? You play with your Autobot friends, but you’ll always need me to take care of those dirty, naughty desires don’t you? The ones that stretch down to the core of your being.”




“You’re close now?”




“Poor thing. You’re so desperate to overload now, aren’t you?”




“Oh my dear sweetspark, don't you know me well enough to know that your cute pleas won't work on me?”




“Listen closely. I want you to rub your external node now, and don’t you dare stop. You can overload when I tell you to. I can tell when you’re about to break, darling…”



Perceptor again, I don’t know I just like it ;w;

Perceptor sighed, feeling two familiar weights press against him.


Having Drift around was in itself enough of an distraction in itself already.


When Rung joined the mix it was as if an atom bomb imploded in his life.


He had a swordsmech and an adorable psychiatrist determined to drag him away from his work.


He moaned as he felt lips kiss the back of his neck and another slim hand stroke his shoulder joints.


So it was going to be like that hm?



Thunder Clash! Rung is a huge Thunder Clash fan and even though he knows he’s fucking amazing at interfacing, he gets super nervous when he wants to show him his skill.

It was the dictionary definition of stage fright.


Even if you were in front of a mech and you knew you were amazing at interfacing.


But this particular mech was something akin to Rung’s god! He had the perfect personality, perfect frame, and perfect spike.


It was time for him to work his magic. But for the life of him, Rung couldn’t understand why he kept covering his face and squeaking whenever he caught a glimpse of that gorgeous spike.


Thunderclash called it “ endearing ” but Rung felt it was more of a substitute for “ prude ”. He didn’t blame Thunderclash, but after all the talk everyone gave to the crew of the Vis Vitalis , Rung knew that the mech expected something more.


Taking a deep breath, he leaned down to swallow Thunderclash’s spike without thinking. He sucked once, but after he made eye contact with Thunderclash, he promptly choked on the spike, and dived underneath the blankets.


He just couldn’t take the idea of failing his idol! He felt like such a pompous idiot! This was Thunderclash! How could a simple blowjob sate him?


Thunderclash rolled his optics and hugged Rung through the blanket.


The larger mech's mouth curled up in an smile.


(As it would turn out, Thunderclash did like prudes. Immensely .)



Tesarus. I just like him.  

Rung peered up from reading his datapad. “Excuse me?”


Tesarus was shuffling his feet on the ground. “I… er… kinda wanted to thank you for… the… things we did last night.”


Rung tilted his head. “So, you wanted to do what again?”


Tesarus’ voice was the barest whisper.


Rung grinned. “You didn’t even need to ask.”


He took Tesarus’ hand and the two went into the grinder’s habsuite.


Lying down, Rung snuggled against Tesarus frame, his head right under the titan's chin, and legs dangling over the grinder. He didn’t mind. The DJD had shown him that they meant him no harm a long time ago.


Tesarus sighed, the comforting weight against his neck and chest making him feel drowsy. “You’re so cute, Rung…”


A small laugh answered him. “I know I am.”



All the new ladies from MTMTE .

The Lost Light and the crew of the Vis Vitalis merged fairly well. Everyone loved Thunderclash, and therefore everyone assumed that whoever Thunderclash associated himself with were great too. Rodimus sulked in his office, but did come out for the parties.


Swerve was positively radiating, his bar filled to the maximum. Mirage wasn’t complaining, seeing as his establishment was practically bursting.


The hallways were filled with conversation, a mix of Vis Vitalis and Lost Light ship mates. And some habsuites were filled with sound too, but everyone mostly ignored that out of courtesy.


When you were stuck in the middle of space with a limited amount of mechs, chances were that you saw your fair bit of the same equipment.


Most mechs took the chance to grab whatever change they had coming. That included both parties.


Rung had for some strange reason this running through his head as he was gulping down Firestar’s spike.


The femme’s were talking quietly, trying to keep the noises to a minimum. Rung didn’t blame them


Fragging a psychiatrist of all things was a pretty odd choice. Most mechs assumed that he didn’t even have interface components.


The femmes helped spread the rumour to the rest of the Vis Vitalis crew. it wouldn’t do to have to fight everytime they wanted a lay.


Rung didn’t mind. His schedule was pretty full already.


He let out a muffled yelp as Roadmaster thrusted in. Primus, was that femme well endowed. She’d put Megatron and Ultra Magnus to shame.


He loved femme spikes. They came in a variety of size and formats, but there was always a feeling of gentle love to their spikes, no matter how vicious they were. Not to mention how sensitive they were as well...


Reaching out, he grinned as he heard Javelin let out a small mewl as he found her spike and began stroking. Velocity was giving her gentle kisses while Proxima ate out her valve.


Oh Primus, he was so close now...





Rung quivered in his restraints, struts already unable to find any strength.


His arms were tied over his head, and there was a small vibrator buzzing against his exterior node.


His spark chamber was open, and a small medibot quietly prodded at his spark casing. Everytime Rung emitted a small moan or loud helpless cry of pleasure, he swore he saw...


The medibot paused.




And seemed to recover for a minute before returning to stroking the psychiatrist’s spark casing.


Rung wouldn’t be surprised if Ratchet purposely reprogrammed every medibot in the medical bay to show an uncharacteristic attraction to him.


One even stroked his aft the other day.


His train of thought was abruptly halted as another overload washed through his frame.


Oh Primus, his spike was starting to tingle…




The sensation of the vibrator against his exterior node triggered his spike, sensors unable to decide whether to overload through valve or spike. So it chose both.


Rung shivered in the aftermath, beginning to drool, his body giving small convulses even after the overload passed. The transfluid from his spike seemed to amplify the overall sensation of filthiness on his frame.


A small cloth wiped at his face gently, and Rung looked at the medibot, panting.


“Don’t you two make the loveliest sight.”


Rung looked at Ratchet leaning against the doorway. The medic’s grin had a quality of casualty and mischievousness to it that made the heat seem ten times worse.




Ratchet strode over and muffled Rung’s voice with a kiss. “It’s alright. But I’ve been awfully mean to you haven’t I? Sending a lonely drone to attend your needs.”




Ratchet untied Rung, and gave the psychiatrist’s exposed spark a kiss.


“So what will this medic do with you now? Frag you senseless? Eat out your valve? So many choices, aren’t there Rung?”


Rung simply quivered.


“I think I’ve teased your sensor node long enough. How about my spike in your valve? Would you like that?”


Rung bent over on the berth, aft in the air, panting. His glasses were already fogged up, providing Ratchet a sight of an rare and erotic state of the Lost Light’s psychiatrist.


The valve seemed to clench on air, wet and needy. Ratchet enjoyed the lubricant within the inner thighs, and the sight of an swollen and overstimulated exterior node.


Stroking his spike, he entered Rung in one swift motion, hearing Rung give a gasp and arch up.


Ratchet tilted his head back and enjoyed the feeling of an spasming valve struggling to adapt around his spike. He barely waited until Rung adjusted. Thrusting forward, Rung let out an unrestrained cry beneath him.


Ratchet put two of his fingers into Rung’s mouth, half fearing that they would be caught, and part wanting to see his lover in a further state of sexual torment.


“Suck.” He ordered. Rung did so, enthusiastically. The only sounds now were Ratchet’s faint groans and the obscene squelch every so often whenever Ratchet thrusted in deep.


Ratchet eventually sped up the pace, giving a nearly growing cry as he overloaded, deep within Rung.


Rung likewise arched up, giving an scream as he felt his sensors overload to the max, completely blowing his processor.


Ratchet shuddered over Rung, riding on the last waves of his orgasm, giving Rung some time to recover.


When Rung finally got that glazed look out of his optics, he carried psychiatrist over to another clean berth.


Hugging Rung close to his chest, he looked over the psychiatrist. Rung was smiling, snuggling deeper into Ratchet’s chest.


Ratchet smiled, rubbing Rung at the back of the head, where most of the processor stimulators were located.


Rung let out a small mewl of pleasure, body melting against Ratchet’s side.


Giving a kiss to Rung’s brow, the two spent most of the day there, kissing and stroking each other.


It was the sweetest thing Ratchet had done in a while.