i do it wild, even if it's ugly
transformers ;; ratchlock ;; wc: 410 ;; NSFW, knotting, valvedom ratchet. i wrote this on valentine's day 2024.
back to writing! read it on tumblr!
Ratchet’s bouncing up and down on his spike, and he’s half certain that he’s died.
“Ratch,” Deadlock lets out, hands clasped with the medic’s, lying beneath him. Normally, Ratchet would be the one laying back, but the doctor had been insistent on being on the top. It was a nice change of pace, the assassin would admit. “Ratch, please–”
“You like it?” He asks, slamming his hips down, again and again and again, drawing out grunts and groans (and the occasional, embarrassing, whine) from the Decepticon. “Does it feel nice?”
“Yes,” Deadlock breathes, “yes, doc, you feel so good–”
“Such a good mech,” Ratchet smiles, “so good. See, don’t you like getting rewarded? Doesn’t being good feel so nice?” Ratchet disconnects their servos and leans over, running his servos along Deadlock’s chassis, engine purring. “I know I like it.”
Deadlock bucks his hips, burying his spike even further into Ratchet’s valve. “Doc,” he groans, and Ratchet smirks above him.
“Yeah? You like it?”
“I like it,” he sighs. “I– it’s so, so– doc–”
“You gonna overload for me?”
He is. He can feel it building, charge crackling over his plating, and he places his servos around Ratchet’s waist. He’s trying to lift the medic off, but Ratchet slams himself down again, firmly. Deadlock lets out a yelp, a full-body shudder coursing through him. He resets his vocalizer. “Ratchet.”
“I want it,” Ratchet tells him, earnest. “I can take it, c’mon–” he lets out a soft moan. “I want it inside.”
Again, Deadlock resets his vocals. They’re failing him. His fans are running too high, the charge causing his optics to glitch out. His servo’s tighten around the medic’s waist. He bucks his hips again, knot expanding. Ratchet whines, feeling it right outside his valve, and reaches a servo down to rub at his node.
“Give it to me,” Ratchet says, “before you go, let me feel it.”
Deadlock shoots upright, moving his arms to wrap around the doctor, who lets out a broken scream as Deadlock slams his hips upright, knot burying into Ratchet’s valve. Ratchet, too, clenches around him, vocals fritzing out, shaking in the assassin’s grip.
Their fans are working overtime as Ratchet collapses onto him, their frames slowly cooling as they come down from their respective highs. Carefully, Deadlock shifts, attempting to pull his spike free of the medic’s valve. All this results in is a whine from said medic, and a groan from himself.
Locked together.