revelboo

[revelboo]

Please, more Jazz 🙏🙏 it's one of my favourite storyline of yours, and I honestly love jazz so much, the nicknames are doing things to me 🫡

Don't feel pressured tho, take care of yourself. You're the best! 😋

I’m good. Just slow down when I write long form rather than these quick fics

Over It Now Pt 13

IDW Jazz x Reader

• Spreading out the blanket on the grass in the shade of the pin oak, he fidgets with the pillows he’d taken from the furniture on your porch. Satisfied, his attention turns back to your house. Watching your shadow moving around in the kitchen, as he heads back to the house and waits. When you finally open the door, you’ve got a tote bag in your fist as you awkwardly shuffle out the door with your crutches. Not even protesting when he reaches to pick you up and carry you across the grass to that pile of pillows.

• When he’d asked if you’d share a meal with him, it had seemed so silly to you. Knowing neither of you can eat what the other does, but he’d looked so serious when he asked. Not smiling like he’s teasing you and that’s what had made you agree. There’d been something real and vulnerable in that request. It’s chilly outside even with your jacket and you shiver as he settles you in the midst of what you’re certain is every decorative pillow and cushion that had been on your porch. “Thanks,” you say, reaching to touch his servos as he nudges a pillow closer and sets your crutches aside.

• “Surprised at how domestic I am, doll?” He asks, flashing a grin as he sits with a leg outstretched and the other drawn up, that little touch spreading warmth through him. Waiting until you unpack your strange smelling human food before reaching for his own energon cube.

• He’s sipping at that glowing goop, and you can see the mesh of his throat working as he swallows. Reminding you that even if he’s metal, he’s alive. It’s not like you haven’t known he wasn’t just a machine for a long time now, but it strikes you every now and then. “Just surprised you’re behaving,” you counter as you pick at your food, very aware of that visor flaring slightly. That he’s watching you eat with open curiosity to make you feel self conscious.

• “Nah.” Watching you shiver and huddle into your coat, he’s leaning forward. Picking you up plate and all, and settling you on his thigh against his frame as you inhale. “I have a reputation to maintain.” Servos lingering against you, he waits for you to get mad. But it’s your turn to surprise him by leaning into him. It’s only that he’s warmer than you are and he knows it, but that little show of trust throws him off balance.

• “The lying,” you say as you take a bite and he stiffens against you. Immediately on guard making you almost let it go. But that’s you, always unable to leave well enough alone. “You want to talk about it?”

• “Nothing to talk about.” He’s smiling still, but it feels brittle as one of his servos gently taps against your ribs. Wants you to let it go, don’t push. Don’t ruin this for him, because he just wanted to share a quiet moment with you. A little peace. Because the truth is that he doesn’t know how not to lie anymore. Playing spy, wearing a smiling, harmless face to hide how awful he really is underneath. Smiling instead of screaming at the things he’s been forced to do throughout the war. Things that haunt his recharge. That’s why he needs this, needs you. Your innocence reminds him of who he’d been and what he’d lost. And protecting you so you don’t end up broken and bitter like he is? It’s everything. “I’m just a liar, doll.”

Previous

[revelboo]

I'm soooo obsessed with 'Skin and Bones' it makes me look stupid. I daydream about it at work lmao. Honestly fantastic

For me, it’s as fun to write soft Megatron as it is to write feral TFP Megs. Mass displaced mech 18+ 🌶️

Skin and Bones Pt 9- extended cut

IDW Megatron x Reader

Servos trembling as they curl into fists, he shrugs off Soundwave’s hand on his shoulder. Knows the communications officers is concerned, but the energon splattered on his hands and chassis isn’t his. It rarely ever is.

“Leave me,” he growls, wishing he could gentle his tone. But that fury is a living thing inside his spark. Another failed coup to put down. It’s not like it’s anything new, but he’s just so tired of it and violence is the only way to keep his throne. The only thing his followers respect and he hadn’t been able to temper his blows, because betrayal always brings out the worst in him. Those memories always too close to the surface.

Drags him right back to the gladiator pits, struggling and clawing just to survive, because one wrong move will cost his life. Never being able to relax, not even during recharge. Being the strongest had placed a target on his head. Made him plenty of enemies.

And finally alone, that rage shakes him, sinking into his spark. Because everything he’s done has been for them. Fighting for freedom, to not be leashed by the aristocracy ever again. Dragging his chair away from his desk, he slings it across the room. Wants to tear the walls down around him, but it’s the sharp cry from his berth that freezes him. Chains that fury.

Spark constricting as he realizes he’d forgotten all about you. Head turning, he finds you pressed against the wall on his berth, eyes wide with fear. Seeing the real him for the first time, the angry mech who’d fought so hard just to survive, who’d grown bitter and determined. And you’re terrified.

“Little one,” he growls, voice too rough still as he approaches. The chair didn’t land anywhere near you, but he’s been so careful to not show you the worst of him, because around you he can relax. Remember that there were times before the fights that weren’t easy by any means, but were almost happy. Companionship found with the other miners, a sense of family that had been taken from him. Reaching out a hand, he doesn’t try to touch you as you flinch back, little hands curled against yourself. Afraid if he tries to touch you, it’ll send you running. And he’s afraid of what he’ll do in turn if you reject him. He’s just so tired of it all, but you give him comfort. A little spot of trusting warmth.

Eyes shiny, you look from his outstretched hand to his face. Slowly letting out a breath and coming to him to lay a warm palm on his servo. Still trusting him even if you’re scared.

“Everything okay?” You ask, looking up at him as a single tear slides down your cheek and you reach up to scrub it away. Afraid, but asking him if he’s okay and your concern aches in his spark.

Knows how dangerous it is after the brawl he’d just had. If anyone comes looking for him, if they get past their fear and come at him together? Knows he shouldn’t risk it even as he places his ped on the berth, leaning forward and mass shifting. Closing the distance between you as he shrinks and seeing your eyes widen as he carefully grips your little hand. Even like this, you’re so much smaller than he is, fragile. But as you look up at him, he’s snared by those eyes, the little flecks of color in them he’s never noticed.

“You’re little. Smaller,” you whisper with a soft, awkward laugh, eyes dropping to stare at his hand gripping yours. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

He needs to see those eyes again, his free hand reaching to cup your soft cheek and tip your face up. Feeling when you lay your palm on his hand as he slides a servo along your cheek. Accepting his touch despite the faint tremor he can still feel, those trusting eyes seeing him. The good and the bad, and not running. Venting sharply when his touch leaves a smear of energon on your cheek, marking your skin with his sins.

Because that’s what he’s always done, isn’t it? Every time he reaches out, he just ends up destroying what he’s trying to protect.

He’s frozen, those red optics fixed on his servos against your cheek as you try to calm your racing heart. That had been the other side of the coin, the vicious warlord that the Seekers had whispered about. Feared. Red optics glowing, denta bared as he’d seized his chair in energon wet hands and thrown it. That hatred twisting his face mixed with despair, cutting you so deeply, piercing the fear.

Those wet servos are touching you, dampening your skin. And he’s just staring, venting raggedly like he’s about to lose it all over again. That’s what makes you catch his hand between both of yours when he tries to snatch it away. Eyes dropping as he hesitates and you pull, turning yourself so your back is to him, his arm under yours and pinned to your body. So you can examine that big hand. “I like when you touch my cheek or play with my hair,” you begin, unsure of how to say what you need to, what he needs to hear. Playing with a servo to curl it slightly and amazed that he’s letting you. “These hands don’t scare me, they’re warm against me when I sleep. They’re strong, but they keep me safe.”

“They destroy, too,” he murmurs.

He’s so close he’s almost touching you and you feel the warmth of him when he vents and it stirs your hair. “Mine can, too.”

He huffs out what might be a bitter laugh at that, but he would think you’re too little, too fragile to do any harm. Giving in, you lean back into him. Soaking in his warmth and safety and realizing how attached to him you are. That you like that rumbling voice, like those big, gentle hands. It’s not like you’d ever deluded yourself into thinking he was safe, but he’d made you feel seen and cherished. He’d felt safe even knowing what he was and what he’s capable of.

“I’m not afraid of you.” Tugging his hand up, you press a kiss against the center of his palm. You can’t look at him, can’t risk seeing the surprise or worse, the disgust on his face. Cause to him, you’re a pet. A weird little alien he adopted as his. So you brace yourself when he turns you, those red optics searching your face.

“You should be,” he says, cupping your face in those warm hands. “I terrify myself.” And his head dips, his mouth brushing against yours.

More of a question than a kiss, a warm stroke of his lips against yours and he’s lifting his head. Going up on tiptoes as warmth spreads through you, you catch his helm and drag him back so you can mold your own mouth to his. Wanting this, him even though it’s crazy. You’re two very different species, but being held by him, drowsing to the thrum of his spark under you, it feels like coming home. And you want all of it. Want to hang on with both hands so you’re not left alone again, because after him? You might not survive that loneliness.

His glossa slides against the seam of your lips entering when you part for him. Those big hands sliding over you, dragging you closer as your feet leave the ground. His mouth moves against yours in a hungry demand and one of his arms cages you to him.

Your mouth is all heat and hunger against his, those soft hands clinging to him as if afraid he might stop. Even if he’d wanted to, he’s not sure he could now. Because you’d reached out, taken what you wanted and given him permission to do the same. No, there’s no stopping until he takes everything he can, loses himself in whatever comfort you’ll allow him. Because you? There’s no conniving or plotting in those warm eyes. Pinning you to his frame, he goes down on his knees and lays you down under him, head lifting slightly so he can find those eyes. Reassure himself that he can have this without destroying what little he has.

“Don’t go,” you whisper, face flushed as you reach for him and how can he deny you?

Slowly do he doesn’t scare you, he finds the bottom edge of your shirt and slides it up to reveal soft skin. “I’m here,” he says and you smile faintly, little hands moving to help him strip you. And only then, bare underneath him, do you avoid his optics as he surfs a palm against you, mapping you out with his servos. “Look at me.” It’s a demand and not as gentle as he’d meant, but you hesitantly meet his optics. “We’re very different.”

“I know,” you say, reaching up to skim your fingers over his chassis in barely there touches. As if not sure if you’re allowed.

Catching your wrist, he presses your palm more firmly against him. “I like those differences.” Shifting slightly, he continues his slow exploration. Finding where he can touch you to make you shiver, squirm away, or gasp. Then his servos find you, cup you and stroke that wet heat. Realizing that as different as you are, it feels like you’re made for him as he presses a servo inside you and you arch. Primus, help him as he frees his spike. Needing to be buried deep inside you even as he strokes that servo deep.

“Don’t stop,” you protest when he pulls his hand away and he laughs softly. He can’t even if you asked him to as he shifts to cover you. Little eyes widening as you feel his spike slide against you, then slowly press inside. “Oh.”

You’re so tight and wet wrapped around his spike as he sheaths himself. He can feel you clench on him before you relax and soften as he cups your cheek. Rocks himself against you with a growl, savoring the feel of you. “I love those differences,” he snarls, beginning to move against you. Hips driving urgently against yours, still wound up with that anger from earlier. Taking that frustration out on you, claiming you rougher than he intended. And you hold onto him, murmuring against his neck. Right there, please, his name, falling almost mindlessly from your lips against the mesh of his neck. Accepting him even like this when you deserve gentle and soft.

And when you cry out and tighten on him, he keeps rutting against you. Denta bared as he thrusts and chases you over that edge. Feeling you milk his spike as he buries himself deep and releases. Claiming you as his. Needing you and those soft hands that had reached out, those eyes that had seen him and not turned away. Knows he doesn’t deserve you, but wants to hold onto this as long as you’ll trust yourself to him, because you feel more like home than anywhere he’s ever been.

Previous

[revelboo]

Oml the cliffhanger on metroplex. Big guy needs more love in his life.

I absolutely love your work on these stories you got cooking here. Each and every one of them have so many characteristics to them. Can't wait for your next work. 🤗💖💖💖

Thank you!

18+ 🌶️

I Can Feel You Pt 6- extended cut

Metroplex x Reader

Monitoring as you step into the labyrinth that makes up his interior, for a moment you hesitate. Looking back up at the light streaming down from above like you want to go back. He knows he could close that exit to you, force you to continue on. Would you resent him then? If he takes away your choice? Little hands twisting together as you stare up toward that light, he knows he can't take that away from you. Needs you to choose him. And finally you take a shuddering breath and square your shoulders. "Okay," you whisper, eyes wide as you look around. "Okay. Show me, big guy."

Slowly he begins flaring his biolights, feeling the strain of redirecting energy where he needs it to give you direction. It's slow going when you're so small. Turning again and again, following the pulses of light. Trusting him to guide you and occasionally reaching out to brush your fingers against him almost absently. Those little touches helping focus him, because if he's wrong, if he's not careful, he'll burn through too much energy and be forced into recharge again. That unease twists through him as you follow, because he's not sure you'd be able to find your way back out. You're so little, so easy to overlook. How long would it be until the Autobots above miss you? Before you slowly starve to death wandering around inside him? That fear is a living thing, urging him to turn you back around. Let you go.

Just once, though. He wants to speak to you at least once. More than your stilted conversations as precious to him as they are. Wants to feel you reach out and be able to touch you in return. "I didn't realize all this was down here," you whisper, brushing against a cable. "It's like a whole other city." Except its only him here and now you.

You don't complain as he leads you, but as time passes, you are slowing. Shoulder and wrist bumping a wall as you turn a corner. Time is a hard concept for him, but it's different for you. You'd have taken a rest interval by now, right? He's not sure, but as you stumble guilt sets in. Knowing you're exhausted, but you're so close. Please, just a little further. "Metroplex? I think I'm done," you say, leaning your head against him. "Is it much further?"

Pulsing warm light, he waits, and you reluctantly push away from his walls to keep going. Knows you're tired and he's asking much more than he has a right to. But just this once, he wants to wrap his arms around your little frame. Needs you to understand how precious you are to him.

Exhaustion pulls at you as you scrub a hand over your eyes, your head pounding. It feels like you've been walking forever, trusting that there's a reason you're down here. It must be night by now or early morning. There's no way to know down here in his labyrinthine interior. He's seen you eat and must know you'll need to soon. Should already have. You keep your eyes on those warm, comforting lights of his, not on the empty shadows beyond. If not for the low hum of his spark vibrating under your feet, you'd think you were alone. Abandoned. Know you're inside him and there's nothing to fear, but panic is just there under the surface. Screaming at you to turn and run back the way you'd come. That this is a tomb, maybe yours.

And then light, warm and beckoning. Leaving the tunnel you were in to enter an open space limned in warm light along the walls, pulsing slowly as they run upward with a low thrumming you feel in your bones. Breath catching as you tip your head up to find his spark. It's a shocking thing to see, knowing it’s everything. It’s him.His life force pulsing and glowing above you, little arcs of energy trailing through the air around it.

"Metroplex? This is your spark, right?" The part of a Cybertronian they protect and keep hidden, and he's shared his with you. It feels like trespassing on something private as your eyes drop. Like this isn't something meant for you to see.

Directly under it is something almost like a closed metal flower, pulsing with that same energy. And along the ground, his biolights pulse. Slow, deliberate flares that draw you forward. As you approach, that strange structure opens, metal petals unfurling slowly as thick cables unravel from around it. "You wanted me to see this?" You ask, because of course he had. That thing that's not at all a flower is pulsing slowly like his spark, that light almost hypnotic. One of those cables brushes your ankle and twines about it as you approach and reach out. Fingers brushing him and feeling energy arc through you, shattering you.

That contact jolts through you as everything falls away and you’re left in a space limned in the warm pulse of his spark, surrounded by him. You can feel him in a way you never have before as you try to figure out if the space you’re in is small or infinite. And if touching whatever that was just killed you, because it’s so hard to focus here. You feel like you’re drifting and just want to sleep.

So hard to focus. That’s not your thought, is it? It feels like yours, but there’s a faint dissonance. Ground me, little one.

“Metroplex?” You whisper, reaching out and a figure materializes in front of you, bigger than you but not as massive as the Autobots are. Ghostly and insubstantial until his servos touch your fingertips and he solidifies some. You’ve never seen his bot form, but you know this is him. Metroplex. Warmth spilling through you as he offers you a big hand and you lay your palm in his.

“Touch me,” he says, the words a deep rumble, a plea as his servos curl around your hand.

Because he becomes more real where you touch him. Encouraging you to reach for him, hand lifting to cautiously cup his jaw. And his other arm curls around you and draws you near, feeling solid against you. The warmth of him, the thrum of his spark against you all so real. “Hi,” you whisper against him.

“You saw me,” he says, chin on top of your head, that deep voice so grateful it hurts you. Like acknowledging him, speaking to him is unthinkable. “Woke me.”

It breaks you wide open, that wonder in his voice over something so simple. Thinking about how he takes care of you, watches over you, has tried so hard to reach out. “I’m here. I’ve got you,” you whisper, reaching for him, cupping his helm in your hands and pulling him down. Because you understand that loneliness, of being unseen. Knowing you’re so much smaller than even the smallest Autobot, that you’re easy to overlook. To forget. And among them you feel alone, alien and unseen. His mouth is warm when you go up on tiptoes to kiss him. And he rushes into you, tangling what you feel with what he feels.

Knowing that he won’t be able to maintain this for long, but he’d wanted to tell you how much he appreciates you speaking to him so he doesn’t drift away from reality completely. All those little touches, the sound of your voice and your stories, you’ve held him together. Giving him something to focus on. A sense of self after so long.

You can’t separate yourself from him as his mouth slides against yours. Can’t tell if the need and heat are yours or his. But knowing that you see him and that you want to wrap yourself around him, protect him against that fear of being forgotten. Of losing what little of himself is left. Dying alone and forgotten.

Not sure how much of this is real, it feels like it is as he drags you against him. The kiss becoming something desperate, needing to show him he’s still alive. To feel him hold you, touch you. Big servos on your hips, lifting you as you wrap yourself around him. You feel the head of his spike slide against you. Sex and need and fear of being forgotten, left behind, all jangling through you. His thoughts, your thoughts. There’s no separating them as he pulls you down, the hard length of his spike sliding deep to stretch you.

Those big hands on your hips, moving you against him as your mouth brushes the corner of his mouth, hearing him venting raggedly against you. “I see you,” you moan, clinging to him.

“I feel you,” he whispers, against you. “I have you.”

You know it’s true as he keeps moving against you, his spike stroking deep again and again. You’re safe and sheltered here in his arms. He’s been watching over you all along, reaching out but unable to say a word. When he pushes you over that edge and you fist his spike, your climax is a gentle warmth spreading through you. Feeling him rock himself against you, groaning with his own release, helm resting against your forehead as those optics seem to devour you. Because he does see you, he’s seen you all along.

Previous

[revelboo]

There’s still some time on the poll, but you guys pushed me over 1000 last night apparently. Star/Sounders was leading with Metroplex in second, and Megs in third. As promised, I’ll write something more polished as a thank you.

But I’m doing all three. I’m just slower writing like this, so bear with me. 18+ mass displaced mechs 🌶️

Everything is Alright Pt 63- extended cut

Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

Frame curled around you, Soundwave presses his cheek against yours. He curls his arm around you, palm splayed on your belly as he braces himself on the other. Just savoring the intimacy of this moment twisting about his spark to softly chain him and knowing he’s completely lost to you, just an impossible, little organic who’s so tangled in his spark there’s no going back. Losing himself in the feel of you, the quicksilver brightness of your emotions and thoughts washing over him, pulling him under. Because like this? Everything’s clearer, less murky and confused as if there were walls up against him before and they’re gone.

And he wants to tangle himself more firmly in you, frame, spark, and processor. Reaching for those memories that he’s been denied and cradling them to himself. Lips brushing your throat and tasting salt, then trailing up to just behind the shell of your ear, he feels when you sense him in your mind. Your trepidation singing through him as you whimper and he gathers you to him, wrapping himself around every part of you. Soothing away the uncertainty and whispering into your mind that you’re safe, he has you. He’ll always have you. “Little one,” he murmurs affectionately, forgetting that you’re not alone. That Starscream is watching, because right now there’s only you. The feel of your body warm and soft against his, his spike pulsing inside you still, the warm brightness of your mind tangling in his, and spilling into his spark. Wanting that final wall torn down. Needing to bind you so tightly to him he won’t know where you begin and he ends.

Head lifting to find the Seeker watching, his frame tense as his wings lift aggressively, he knows that line isn’t one he can cross just yet. Needing to feel the brightness of you touch his spark. To claim all of you as his, but not until you’re more comfortable with him. No, not only him, but Starscream. He’s so overwhelmed with you, he can’t shut out the Seeker’s thoughts. That vulnerability he tries so hard to hide and under it all, a fear so visceral it’s dangerously close to madness. Understanding that it’s you keeping Starscream level now, slowly healing scars Soundwave wasn’t even aware the SIC had. And it’s hard to trespass in the Seeker’s thoughts and still resent him even though he wants to.

Shivering as Soundwave’s servos flex against you where he’s supporting you, there’s a sense of being wrapped up and held that has nothing to do with his warm frame draped against you. He’s heat and warmth in your head, feeling him as his mind brushes yours, pouring through your defenses. Star has never done this to you and it should feel like an invasion as he tugs at you. Seeing everything. Petty little hates, first loves, your best moments and your worst. And not pushing you away, just accepting the good and the bad, cradling you. And when he rocks himself against you, that spike stroking inside you so slowly you feel every ridge, every bump, there’s no hesitation. “Please,” you whisper, eyes down, because you’re so full of Soundwave, he’s so tangled in you, you just can’t meet Starscream’s optics.

His mouth brushes your neck as he thrusts against you. Growling softly in Cybertronian again, but in your head, his voice is a deep growl. He has you. He sees you. You’re his. There’s no guilt about how good he feels inside you, that spike driving deep again and again, his hips pumping against you with wet sounds. There’s only him and you, his venting growls and your soft cries and gasps as he claims you. Your orgasm shredding you apart as you cry out and he keeps thrusting even as you tighten on him. Dragging it out, in almost frantic drives of his hips before he’s shuddering against you, burying himself deep. Hips rocking against you as he fills you and his lips brush the curve of your ear, your jaw, and neck as his mind curls about yours, feeling his pleasure as a warm rush.

Breathing raggedly, you finally lift your head to find Starscream staring at you. There’s that sly smile on his lips you’re so used to, but it’s wrong. Tense and almost manic, his optics lifting to your eyes and trapping you. There’s fear there under that indifference, you know it because you’ve seen him break wide open before. Knows he doesn’t like this, probably hates sharing you. But he’d done it for you, to protect you. Sacrificing his own happiness. Pressing a kiss against your throat as he senses the direction of your thoughts, Soundwave slips out of you and you can feel his excess trailing down your thighs.

Self conscious as you move toward Star, not even bothering to get off your hands and knees, you look up at him. Not sure what to say now, if he’ll even want you still after watching that. While Soundwave’s release is still slicking you. That anxious fear ebbs when he reaches to cup your cheek, his wings lowering slightly as that panic softens from his optics and his servo slides over the curve of your cheek. Accepting this and you. He’s sprawled there, one leg still outstretched and the other up as he tips your head higher and you go up on your knees so his mouth can crash against yours. Shocking you anew with how warm and malleable his lips are, softer than his plating as he kisses you. Growling a soft protest at you when you pull away. Face heating as you reach for his spike and grip him, watching his wings flare slightly. But not protesting as you kneel between his spread thighs to examine him. You’ve not had a chance to actually explore him and the shape is similar to a human’s, the head more tapered as you run your fingers over him, tracing along those ridges and nodes that feel so good inside you.

“Primus,” he growls as you duck your head and slide your tongue against him.

Hoping whatever his precum consists of isn’t toxic to you, but knowing that ship has probably sailed by this point. He shudders as you taste him, sweet with a metallic bite. Glancing up at him, you run your tongue along his length, before taking the tip into your mouth. Hearing him snarl and feeling his servos tangle in your hair so tight it almost stings. “Don’t move,” you murmur lifting your head and his wings shiver. And then you take him as deep as you can, tongue sliding against him, feeling him trembling under you, but not bucking up against you. You’ve heard him growl and snarl before, but the noise he’s making right now as you swallow as much of him as you can? It’s like he’s coming apart at the seams.

Primus, help him as that wet mouth moves on his spike and you glance up at him as if checking to see if he’s enjoying it. Like you don’t know the effect you have on him. Can’t feel him shaking with the need to move, doesn’t want you to stop, but needs to be inside you. Needs to claim you so thoroughly you forget all about Soundwave. To prove who you belong to. You make a noise when he tugs on your hair, until your head lifts, lips parted and wet. And he almost releases right then. Dragging you into his lap, lifting you and feeling you pull yourself up. Servos tightening on your hip as he grips himself with the other hand and finds your slick core.

“I wasn’t done,” you murmur, against the mesh of his neck, breath warm on him.

And he groans as he pulls you down to bury himself deep right where he belongs. Hearing your throaty moan as he scruffs his servos in your hair again and gently tugs until you arch so he can run his mouth against your soft throat to chase your pulse. Just needing to feel you, to hold you. Your lips brush against his helm, little hands clinging to his shoulders as you shift against him and rock yourself. Riding his spike with slow, unhurried movements. Wings flared, he lays back to let you have your way. Watching you move against him, face flushed. Those eyes everything to him as they hold his optics, listening to the sounds you make. Not Cybertronian, but so lovely to him where you’d once been so strange and alien. That need for more lifts through him, twists through his spark. Glossa tucked against the corner of his mouth as he runs his servos over you, entranced with the way you move against him, lifting until his spike nearly slips free and then rocking back down to take all of him.

Servos sliding up to splay over your chest, he can feel the wild beat of your heart there. Where a spark would be if you were Cybertronian. Watching you, that need crawls through him as he stiffens and lifts his hips. Releasing inside you as you smile down at him, hair falling forward and a few strands stuck to your sweaty cheek as you lazily rock yourself against him. He pulls you down against him, needing to feel your heart beating against him.

Knows he shouldn’t, but can’t seem to stop himself from being greedy for more. So easy to open those protective panels, feeling his spike still pulsing inside your wet heat. Seeing your face limned in the glow of his spark, your breath catching as you try to push yourself up and he pins you against him. Distantly aware of how vulnerable he is right now. That Soundwave is right there, but as his spark reaches tendrils of energy and finds you, nothing else matters. Craving those gentle hands to touch him, but venting raggedly when his sparks twines with you. Feeling you tangling with him, aware of you in ways he never has been before. Bonding himself to you as you shudder against him, little hands scrabbling against his plating, before you’re slumping against him, more of you spilling into him. Something he hadn’t meant to take, hadn’t known he could take as he wraps himself around you, sheltering that fragile warmth that’s you in his own spark. “Primus, I see you,” he whispers raggedly, a prayer and a curse both as the bond runs electric through him. Claiming every bit of you as his, losing himself to that warm feeling of belonging as his servos tighten on you, desperate to keep you close against him. To not let go of this moment.

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[revelboo]

You have mentioned, I think, a few times of the humans trying to avoid being sick. How would the bots react to their human being sick?

I'm just sick atm, you don't have to do anything if you don't want too

Dealing with the Human Being Sick Headcanons

TFP Soundwave x Reader

• Pausing in his typing when you make a noise he’s never heard, his helm tips toward your tiny frame. A tendril lifting as you curl into a ball, your little frame shaking as you keep making that violent noise. Drawing your knees up to your body as he loops his tendril about you, feeling those wracking sounds. And he’s bending over you, the side of his helm bumping your head. Because as soon as he touches you, that misery comes through loud and clear.

• Blinking up at Soundwave, even with no expression, it’s obvious your coughing is worrying him. “Think I’m getting sick,” you manage and he bumps you again, tendril curling tighter around you. Whatever he was working forgotten as he fusses over you, his other tendril whipping about to find and bring you every one of your blankets, pillows, any soft thing he’s ever gotten you and piling them up around you. Dragging water and food nearby, his helm lifting to look around like he’s trying to find anything else to give you and it’s so sweet, because he obviously isn’t sure what to do, but he’s trying. Settling yourself against the coil of the tendril, you tip your head to press a kiss against him when he tries to bump you with his helm again, feeling him freeze. “Thank you.”

IDW Prowl x Reader

• “Stop acting like a sparkling.” Hooking an arm around you, he drags you into his lap and grits his denta when you smack a palm against his jaw and try to shove him away. Do you have any idea how much energy mass shifting takes? “Behave,” he snarls, arms tightening around you, chin on top of your head until you finally give up and slump into his warmth. The shivering doesn’t stop, though. Servos finding bare skin, it’s a surprise to find you sweaty and much warmer to the touch than normal.

• “It’s a fever, you idiot,” he mutter, too exhausted to keep struggling against him. Why else would you have stripped down to your underclothes when he knows you can’t stand how cold his quarters are? He hadn’t bothered to ask, just frowning down at where you’d sprawled out on your belly, soaking in how cold his berth is against your feverish skin. And he’d dropped a blanket on you, scowling when you’d immediately slung it off and glared up at him. “I’m fine.” Venting against you to stir your hair, he refuses to let you go, practically wrapping himself around you when you’re already sweating and miserable. Like he’s worried and actually cares. Smothering you. “Some soup would be awesome,” you mutter, and it works. He lets you go, mass shifting to go hunt for a can as you snort. Hopefully there’s none in the Ark and you can sleep while he’s busy searching.

TFP Shockwave x Reader

• “Thirteen?” You’re usually awake by now, but you’re still curled up in the corner of your cage, your blanket tangled around your legs. It’s the rasping sound of your breathing that freezes him in reaching for you, because that sound isn’t normal. Almost wet sounding as your eyes open, head turning to stare up at him. Not smiling for him and his servos begin to tremble, the illogical chaos he keeps so carefully locked away, seeping out. Because something is wrong.

• He’s stuck again, unmoving aside from that faint tremor in his servos and the antenna on his helm flicking. You’ve seen it before, but usually he shakes it off. Covering your mouth as a cough shakes you, it’s an effort to sit up when you feel so awful. His one optic is flaring brighter, servos of his hand now flexing in almost spasms. “Shockwave?” Getting to your feet, you reach for him and he pulls away, that cannon powering up and lifting as his antenna go all the way back, head scanning the room like he’s looking for threats. Like he doesn’t know where he is and your breath catches. “Hey, can you get me some water? My throat’s raw,” you call out, trying to break him from whatever this is, because he’s scaring you. And slowly, his optic dims some and he looks down. Coming back to you as the danger passes.

IDW Starscream x Reader

• Fussing over you, his wings flick as he finds another blanket to tuck around you. “Fragile organics,” he mutters, using scorn to hide how much it upsets him, because he doesn’t know what to do. How to fix this. And you just curl into the nest he’s made you, absently reaching to pat his hand. Like everything is fine. Do you need a medic? Anything he can get you to make this stop? Because he hates feeling useless.

• Squinting up at Starscream as he adjusts your blankets again, you find his fidgeting too sweet, warmth spreading through you that he’s so worried about you. “It’s a cold. I’m fine,” you tell him for the third time, knowing he doesn’t quite believe you as he just vents before scooping you up blankets and all and relocating you to his desk. Apparently intending to sit and watch over you as he props his chin on his fist, optics running over you as he reaches to stroke your hair. So much for resting, but he means well.

IDW Bluestreak x Reader

• “Blue, I’m okay. Really,” you rasp, clinging to his servos as he completely ignores you in his panic, running for medbay with you tangled in the blankets you’d been sleeping in. It doesn’t matter that it’s just a cold, because he apparently thinks you’re going to die on him.

• Cradling you against him, he can feel how hot your skin is and can hear you reassuring him. Knows he needs to calm down, but fear has him by the throat. All those what ifs. Maybe you’re wrong, maybe it’s something dangerous and he might lose you if he doesn’t act right now. And he can’t risk it, needs you. So you’re going to Ratchet, because he needs to be sure you’re okay. You took care of him, now it’s his turn. You have to be okay.

TF Earthspark Megatron x Reader

• He can feel the judgment in Dorothy’s stare as he sits in the modified barn near the air mattress you’re sprawled on. Knows he should have let the Malto’s carry you in the house, but wanted you within sight. Within reach as his servos brush your throat and he watches Dorothy set down a tray with a bowl of soup, firmly telling him that this is the best medicine for a cold. It’s not that he doesn’t believe her, he just hates to see you so miserable, unable to help you.

• Feeling those gentle servos touching your cheek, your hair, you relax. Can hear that deep, rumbling brogue of his as you drift in and out. It’s only a cold, nothing major, but you can’t deny it’s nice to have someone worrying over you, taking care of you. Because it’s been a long time since someone’s worried over you like this, probably since you were a kid.

[revelboo]

You posted a new chapter of Everything Is Alright and I got to read it like a bed time story, I am in love with your writing please don't get kidnapped by an alien robot

“Kidnapped.” I’d go willingly

18+ Mass displaced mechs 🌶️

Everything Is Alright Pt 62

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• You’re still looking back at Starscream as Soundwave pulls you into his frame, reaching to snag your blanket and wrap it around you instead of giving in and exploring you. Can feel your confusion and worry crashing over him where he’s touching you, intensifying as he slides the arm around you under your shirt to find skin. Wanting, needing, more contact, to drown himself in you. Wrap himself around you to protect those fragile, emotions.

• Feeling Soundwave pull you tighter against him, his chin on top of your head, it feels like you’re on uneven ground suddenly. Starscream watching your every move, wings flared slightly, but not intervening. He’d placed your hand in Soundwave’s. Is this part of their agreement? Wanting this, but afraid to hope. Knowing it’s wrong, deviant. Hearing the soft click of Soundwave’s mask a second before he presses his face against the crook of your neck, venting. And warmth shivers through at the feel of his lips on your skin, seeing Starscream grimace before his optics flick up to your eyes and he offers you a wry smile. Those optics grounding you in your uncertainty, because he’s the one who holds you every night, whose servos keep you close, cling to you like he needs you. Maybe more than you need him.

• You’re still looking to him and it calms some of the chaos in his processor. Soundwave’s mouth on your neck, hands on you, but your eyes on him. Only him even as Soundwave pulls you into his lap to straddle him. Sharing, but still his. And he can’t deny that watching you shudder against Soundwave doesn’t do things to him. Getting to watch you as Soundwave’s hands roam your skin, pulling that last covering off of you. Mouth stroking over yours to twist inside him in hunger, heat, and jealousy.

• You can feel Star’s optics on you as Soundwave rocks himself against you, and when you look over your shoulder, he’s shifting to make himself more comfortable as Soundwave’s mouth finds your throat, collar bone, and shoulder. Before Soundwave’s turning you in his grip, your back to his chassis, legs spread open to rest on top of his as he pulls the blanket away. So you’re on full display for Starscream, your face heating as his optics travel over you and his tension eases some. The Seeker’s wings flicking when Soundwave cups you, servos playing and your head falls back against his shoulder. “Please,” you murmur, hips lifting when he presses a servo inside you to stroke as his lips brush your neck.

• Ignoring the Seeker watching, he strokes you as your need sinks into him wherever your skin touches him, intoxicating as it feeds his own hunger. Because this time he’s not stopping. He can’t as he frees his aching spike. Not after that breathy plea for him. Pretending it’s only the two of you, as he slips his servo free smiling and nuzzling against your soft throat when you make a little noise of protest. Before he’s lifting you to sheath his spike inside that wet heat and you arch in his grip when he pulls you down until he’s fully buried inside you. And it’s almost too much, that connection to you amplified until he really does feel like he’s drowning in you. Hands gripping your hips to help move you on his spike, keeping slow. Because he doesn’t want this moment to end too soon, you were worth the wait as he opens himself to your mind. Feeling your love for Starscream, your confused, guilty need for him that isn’t love, not yet. Feeling safe with them both, reaching for them both but not expecting them to reach out in return, not expecting, but hoping to be loved. The hurt and uncertainty buried underneath that slips through his servos when he tries to pull it close to unravel.

• Even if it’s another mech buried inside you, where he belongs, he’s snared by the sight of you. Back arched, lips parted and eyes hooded as Soundwave rocks you against him. Taking you slowly. When you make those soft sounds, an arm reaching back to curl around Soundwave’s neck, he gives in. Frees his own spike and fists himself, holding those need darkened eyes as he works himself. Imagining your wet heat gripping him instead of his own hand. All those things he’s unable to say catching him by the throat. That he’d been lonely before you and hadn’t even realized it, not understanding what was missing until he had your warmth against him. That it’s you he looks forward to and thinks about while away, the way you smile at him, so happy to see him that warms his spark every time. Your little hands reaching for him, needing him. Trusting him.

• Soundwave inside you, spike stroking deep as his servos grip you to keep you from trying to move against him. From rushing after that high that’s so close. Starscream’s red optics snaring you as he grips himself, watching you as he strokes his spike, lip between his denta. Feeling Soundwave’s own denta nip your skin as he growls against you and you reach to cup his helm to you. Watching Star, feeling Soundwave. Knowing they’re both yours and not even the least bit ashamed of it as possessiveness warms you. And Soundwave groans against your throat, bouncing you faster on his spike, before hooking an arm around your middle and shifting you both so you’re on your hands and knees with him curled around you, hips bucking urgently. Whispering in Cybertronian against your skin as you cry out, his thrusts faltering when you tighten on him. Dragging it out for you until you feel him drive deep to release. Hearing Star snarl softly with his own release as Soundwave brushes his jaw against your neck and cheek. All the tension you’ve been carrying, wanting both and hating yourself for it falling away. Because how can this be wrong when it feels like home?

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[revelboo]

I love the idea of Thundercracker and Screamer having civil relationships with their humans and then we have Skywarp

"I think mine might be feral. What are the symptoms of rabies?"

"You're holding it upside down-"

They’re both feral honestly.

Swearing and 18+ below the cut

Stop Talking Pt 2

Skywarp x Reader

• “If you don’t stop that, I’ll stop you,” Skywarp snarls as you scream at him from the far corner of his berth where he’d left you. For such a tiny, fragile thing, you have surprisingly little survival instinct. Just screaming he can understand, but you’d been swearing at him and defiantly screaming demands to be let go since you’d woken up and saw him. You are scared despite the act, though. You must be to have pressed yourself so tightly into the corner as far from him as you can get. The threat combined with thumping his fist on the berth so hard you nearly fall works and you lapse into sullen silence, trembling as you glare up at him.

• It’s like a bad sci-fi movie as you try to keep out of reach of those huge hands, wishing you had actual clothes not just the swimsuit you’d been sun bathing in, because it’s freezing wherever he’s taken you and you’d feel less vulnerable if you weren’t half naked. If big, purple and scary didn’t seem as uncertain as you are, you probably would have just huddled in the corner crying. Instead of cursing him out like you’re too stupid to live. But he’d flinched when you’d screamed the first time upon waking up to him leaning over you and prodding you with a servo. He’d reared back, grimacing. Like the shrill screeching scared him, so you’d leaned into it, because if he’s going to squish you like a bug, he can look you in the eye while he does it. “Go fuck yourself.”

• Not entirely sure what that means, only that it sounds like an insult, he tries to figure out what to do with you. He’d just assumed all humans would be as docile as Star’s had seemed. And that messing with you would be fun. That temper, though. It’s almost cute. You have to realize how small and helpless you are against him, but you still refuse to back down. Refuse to submit, even as it spreads through him with the temptation to prod at you just to watch you lash out. “If I were your size, I’d be a bit more respectful.”

• That tone is almost teasing, definitely mocking as you flip him off. “And if I were your size, I wouldn’t be a huge, kidnapping dick.” Apparently Skywarp, as he’d told you to call him, doesn’t know that word either. The gist, though? You almost laugh when he very slowly flips you off right back. “I hope the military nukes your ass,” you taunt, surprised when he grins crookedly at you. Not getting angry, but seeming amused instead. Because apparently, he’s as dysfunctional as you are. Enjoying snarling right back at you.

• “I hope you get caught in the crossfire,” he snarls, struggling against a grin. Because you aren’t scared or at the very least you’re pretending not to be. Refusing to take any attitude from him and how long has it been since he had someone to argue and pick at? Thundercracker had never cared for squabbling with him, but Starscream had before he’d become obsessed with power and climbing higher. Leaning into your space, you crane your neck to keep glaring at him. Standing your ground. And he freezes as his spark flares, heat rushing through him in a flush of hunger at that defiance. His spike stirring because of a stubborn, little organic with a mouth. Shocking him into shoving back, away from you and that deviant urge. Because something is very wrong with him.

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[revelboo]

Everyone else: yearning, hating, yearning, pining, yearning and pining.

Rumble: DAY ONE MAKEOUT BABYYYYY

And then some 😆 18+ 🌶️

Alcohol Eyes Pt 3

Rumble x Reader

• Venting raggedly against your throat, he doesn’t want to move. Especially feeling the way your thighs are trembling under him and the way you smile lazily at him, your cheek resting on an outstretched arm. Lips mouthing your skin, tasting salt, he listens to that warm, throaty laugh. “Careful. I might just take you home with me if you keep that up.” Is that an option? And why would you think he doesn’t want to continue whatever this is? “You alone, Rumble?”

• You feel like you can almost see the guy’s eyes through that red visor. With how dim the store room is, it’s hard to be sure. He’ll probably think you were joking, but really? Your new friend fucks like an animal. Definitely not a quickie one and done like your ex. And taking him home? Keeping him at least a few days to get him out of your system by getting him into your bed? Oh, so tempting an idea. “I’m with you,” he murmurs, hips rocking against you. Ready to go again already? This guy isn’t human.

• Groaning as he grips your hips and begins lazily thrusting again, he watches you shiver and close your eyes with a low, needy sound. It’s the sound of the doorknob rattling that makes his movements falter, lip lifting to bare denta as someone bangs on the door. “You better have fucking clothes on by the time I get this door open,” someone’s yelling and your human starts laughing, reaching back to push against his shoulder. “Party’s over, champ.” Over?

• Pushing a little more firmly, Rumble finally slides out of you, turning away as you shove off of the container you’d been using. You can’t make out the writing on it, but sincerely hope it’s not foodstuffs, because you both made a mess. Hurriedly righting your clothes and trying to ignore his excess running down the inside of your thighs, you glance at him. He’s already fixed his costume, hiding your new favorite part of him. “Ready for the walk of shame?” You ask, offering him a hand. Because awkward is easiest when you pretend you don’t care at all and it warms you when he plays along, seizing your hand like he’s afraid you’re going to bolt and leave him.

• Apparently whoever had yelled at them and banged on the door had made enough noise to draw a curious crowd. Walk of shame? Grinning crookedly, he pointedly stares down the gawking organics, because why should he care that they know you’re his? Until he spots Frenzy, his twin’s mouth hanging open. That sours his amusement some, especially as Frenzy stalks over. “What are you doing?”

• There’s two of them, attention sliding from their matching costumes to their similar, gray painted faces, you decide they must be brothers and the thought sends your deviant brain spinning with the impulse to invite them both home. Especially when you notice your ex in the crowd of onlookers whispering and snickering at you both. He’s not laughing, though as his hands work at his sides like he’s itching to get them on you. Like he thinks you’re still his. And you lift your chin, even as you shift closer to Rumble. Because he’s never putting his hands on you ever again. “He’s coming home with me,” you tell his brother, seeing Rumble grin from the corner of his eye. “I’m borrowing him for the night. Maybe all week.” That part you say louder just for your ex, flashing him a sweet smile as he glares at you, that look promising you’ll have new scars the minute he gets you alone again. And Rumble’s fingers tighten on yours, that grin of his just like a kid turned loose in a candy store as his brother stares between you two in almost comical disbelief.

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[revelboo]

My Rodimus figure broke :( maybe something with Rodimus accidentally hurting himself doing something dumb and we comfort him?

Attractive Today Pt 3

MTMTE Rodimus x Reader

• Servos curling under into fists, he has to remind himself to keep smiling. Keep playing the clueless goof, because he can feel his spark crackling with his outlier ability and knows that if he lets that anger take over, he might not be able to stop. Might hurt someone. Again. Putting some space between himself and Brainstorm so he won’t be as tempted since the scientist isn’t all that concerned about the chaos he’s caused or the suffering. Some of the bots on board had never dealt with humans before Rung’s had blipped into existence on his desk amid the parts for the model so he was assembling. And it’s easy to not care, when it’s just a nameless little organic.

• Walking from one end of the desk you’re trapped on, you turn and make another circuit. Finally beginning to calm after Rodimus had explained that no, his kind, Cybertronians, don’t eat humans. He could have been lying, but he’d honestly looked so distraught about it that you believe him that the one eyed, robotic death chicken had lied to you. Your new roommate hasn’t had any explanation for how you’d gotten stuck on their ship, though. But he’d said he’d try to figure it out and despite yourself, you want to trust him. Lost in space and far from home, just gone without a trace. His quarters have a large window that you’re trying your hardest to not look at, because that vast emptiness just cracks your fear wide open. The night sky at home had never bothered you one bit, but knowing there’s nothing beyond the walls of the ship? It makes you want to scream.

• Returning to his quarters without any real solutions or answers, his servos flex. As much as he hated it, he’d sided with Magnus and Megs that they continue on rather than trying to backtrack and find the humans to return them home. He’s not sure how to tell the little human waiting in his quarters for him that you’re not going home. At least not for a long time. You’re still where he left you when he opens the door, little head turning his way. And that guilt and anger kindles about his spark, until he’s frozen in place. Because not now. Those expectant eyes are staring at him and he wonders how many of Brainstorm’s accidents hadn’t been so lucky. How many hadn’t survived.

• Big, red, and pointy isn’t moving, just standing there in the doorway before one of his hands reaches and his servos slam against the wall, head lowering. Moving closer, you watch him begin to shiver, servos flexing and almost clawing the wall. “Hey? You okay?” You call out, because if you didn’t know better, it looks like the big, alien robot is having some kind of nervous breakdown. Bright blue optics find you and there is something like panic on his too human face. You know that feeling, know what it’s like to drown in your own head as your breath catches.

• Don’t do it. Keep it together. It’s a losing battle as that anger churns and feeds the fear of what he’s capable of if he doesn’t get it together. Can feel his temperature starting to climb, feels his plating crackling with the threat of flames. Needs to go, find somewhere with no one around, no one to hurt. Then he realizes you’re talking to him. Telling him about your family and your dog, and it’s so random it snags at him. Gives him something to focus on, just the sound of your voice softly talking to him. Talking him through the danger you aren’t even aware you’re in. Leaning on the wall, he stares at you, meets your eyes. Wants to come closer and pick you up, because you’re saving him without even knowing it, but can’t move yet. Can’t risk it.

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[revelboo]

Everything Is Alright Pt 61

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• No one questions him taking extra energon. It’s just logged because of his rank, but that report will land in Megatron’s hands eventually. One extra cube might be ignored, but Soundwave doubts it. Their stores are already stretched too thin for their numbers and that guilt follows him as he heads back to his quarters. That he’s stealing for Starscream energon someone might need. And Megatron is sure to ask why he needed extra. Omitting intel is one thing, but outright lying?

• Servos combing lazily through your hair, Starscream feels you curl closer in his arms, your face against the mesh of his neck and the warmth of your breath. Things now familiar as the beat of your little heart, things he needs to calm himself. Liking being able to hold you like this even if the conditions aren’t exactly ideal. “You and Soundwave are getting along,” you venture, your tone carefully neutral. Too neutral. Reminding him that you like the communications officer, too. And his tentative agreement to share that he already regrets. Leaning to put some space between you so he can see your face, you immediately drop your eyes. Embarrassed?

• He’s just staring down at you, servos reaching to gently make you meet his optics. “We’ve come to a an agreement about you,” he says, his rasping voice dipping into a growl that makes your heart beat faster. “To protect you.” Venting, his lips press into a thin line as he runs a servo across your cheek under your eye making you wonder if the tear tracks are still there. “But you’re still mine.” His tone is possessive as his jaw clenches and he looks away, leaving you to wonder what kind of arrangement they’d come to without your input. Because as much as he tries to take care of you, he still doesn’t see you as an equal, does he? You’re still his possession. And that while you were falling for him, it was one sided.

• “Yours,” you agree, eyes down. And there’s something in your tone and expression that bothers him. Don’t you understand how hard this is for him? Trusting anyone else with you after learning just how little time he has with you? And now even less, sharing it with Soundwave. Denta gritting, he wants to push. Try to figure out what’s going on in your head, but then Soundwave is stepping through the door, hands laden with energon cubes that he deliberately places on his desk instead of offering any to him. The message clear, that he’s not helping unless he’s sure Starscream will uphold their deal.

• Ignoring the Seeker’s glare and flared wings, Soundwave lays his palms on the berth and vaults up, mass shifting. If the theft of energon is going to be noticed anyway, why not take extra? Why not ensure Starscream can keep his word and share this time? Lurching upright, the Seeker drags you closer to his body, wings flicking aggressively even as he sags slightly. Still weak. “Little one,” Soundwave says, approaching slowly and crouching to reach for you, to brush the tips of his servos against your cheek. Not at all surprised when Starscream seizes his wrist to stop him. And he waits, helm lifting to stare at the Seeker in a silent question.

• Frozen between them, you can hear the faint warning rumbling out of Starscream, one arm curled around you, the other keeping Soundwave from touching you. “Star?” Lip still curled at the communications officer, the sound of your voice seems to snap him out of it and slowly, he lets Soundwave go. Still making that barely audible noise as the cassette master closes the distance and cups your cheek. Unsure what’s going on between them, but remembering his words. An agreement to protect you. And when Soundwave offers you a hand, you just look helplessly at Starscream, not sure what they want from you.

• You’re both staring at him now and Starscream hates it. Hates everything about this as he presses his mouth against your temple and laces his servos with your soft fingers and places your hand in Soundwave’s. Because it hurts to let go of you, it hurts to share you. Knows you’ll still be his no matter what, but watching Soundwave pull you closer and curl an arm around you as he cradles you against his chassis, it’s like a part of him is dying as you look back at him worriedly. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, a promise to watch over you to soothe himself and you. To protect you even from your new guardian if need be.

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[revelboo]

Feel Like Rain Pt 2

IDW Ratchet x Reader

• Servos lingering on your throat, on the feel of your pulse there, he knows it’s not enough. He’s not enough. While he’d gotten your temperature down, you’re shivering now, your cheek and arm an angry red where you were out there so long. Wheeljack and his human had left him alone after returning with the news that none of the humans knew anything even remotely useful. An artist, an interior designer, a paralegal assistant and the rest equally useless to him. So he’d had to resort to the human’s own information network, trying to dig through conflicting remedies when you might not have the time to spare, because he just doesn’t know. “You’re not dying on me,” he mutters to you, servos touching your cheek.

• Everything hurts. Your whole body one pulsing ache. But then there’s the feel of your head being lifted and a cup against your lips. Someone allowing you a tiny amount of water when your throat is so dry you want to reach up and tilt it more, drink until you can’t. “Not so much,” the deep voice rolls over you as the cup is lowered. Wanting to protest, but unable to do more than make a ragged noise. Your limbs are leaden and useless when you try to move, unable to even open your eyes as you drift in and out. Fleeting moments of clarity tied to that gentle voice murmuring to you. Giving you something to focus on beside the pain, wanting to cling to that voice as you feel a gentle touch against your temple, then on your wrist.

• “Shh, I know,” he growls, binding your broken bones and trying to shut out the broken sounds you make. Not really awake, but alert enough to register when he gently lines the tiny bones back up. Those noises hurting him as he works. He’d given up and mass shifted to handle your tiny form, because his normal size? You’re just too small. “There.” Brushing your hair back from your face, he vents tiredly and sits beside you. Afraid that if he mass shifts back, he won’t be able to do it again so soon if you need him. And it’s strange to see normal things from this point of view. Feeling uneasy as he watches First Aid putting things away, the bot so much bigger than he is now. This is how the humans must feel all the time around Cybertronians. Helpless.

• That voice is whispering to you, giving you something to keep your mind from drifting. Those hands are so warm and gentle as they find your pulse and monitor it. A doctor? Details are fuzzy, but you remember the wreck, struggling to get free and slowly realizing that you’re pinned. Screaming for help until your throat was raw and you’d realized no one was coming. Someone had, though. Someone had seen you, saving your life. When those kind hands lift from your wrist, you manage to reach out. Fingers brushing his, wanting to beg the owner of that voice not to leave you alone. Your heart racing until that warm hand finds yours and holds it. Telling you that you’re going to be okay and you believe him.

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[revelboo]

There's either gonna be a huge argument or smut with tfp Megatron, and I'm living for it 🙏 The concept of spark bonding is doing things to me 😭

18+ mass displaced mech 🌶️

Broken Arrow Pt 11

TFP Megatron x Reader

• Hunger twisting through him electric as his claws run through your hair, he tries to get himself back under control. Feeling the last vestiges of that pleasant hum of dark energon still in his lines, the incomplete bond urging him to claim what’s his. Because whether you like it or not, you are now. Though if he’s honest, he never had any inclination of giving you up. Feeling your little hands on his chassis flexing as you glare up at him. “What did you do to me?” To you? The same thing he did to himself, accidentally tying the two of you together.

• That big hand is still curled around your neck, a claw under your chin to keep your head up. Forcing you to make eye contact with those optics still hazy with dark energon, but his normal red is beginning to bleed back through. Feeling the heat of him sinking into you and the insane urge to press closer. To go up on tiptoe and pull him down to you. Instead you curl your hands into fists against him, unsettled and warm at the feel of those huge hands on you. His servos shifting to cup your cheek, the gesture is oddly intimate and not at all like his normal teasing touches meant to anger you. The gentleness making your heart race. “I claimed what’s mine,” he growls and there’s that messed up grin you’re used to, those sharp denta on display as his claw tip strokes over your bottom lip. “Can you feel your new leash, pet?”

• He’s not entirely sure why he says it, but the way your eyes narrow even as panic flashes across your face for a second before you hide it, he knows he’s right. You can feel it. Not Cybertronian, but still partially bonded to him. Which is why you’re not trying to push him away now, you can’t. Because you need this contact, need more. Need everything just like he does. “Undo it,” you demand as he traces your soft bottom lip. “Right now.” And you snap your teeth at him like you’ve done so many times before in a threat to bite, but this time it jolts straight through him to his spike to freeze him in place with heat and need.

• Growling as his optics flare brighter, his arm curls against you and hauls you up off your feet against him. “No,” he snarls, lip lifting to show off his denta. Your breath locking in your lungs as heat spills through you to mix with the sudden uncertainty. Because there’s an edge on his voice that’s never been directed at you before. The sound all heat and dominance to make you shiver against him. And then he’s got a hold of the leash around your neck with his free hand as his mouth crashes down on yours, the contact shocking through you.

• So soft against him, your mouth slides against his, feeling when your little hands rest against him. Hanging onto him as you wrap yourself around him. Do you even realize what you’re doing, he wonders. The way you’re moving against him. It’s the bond, nothing more and he knows it. Knows there’s no real affection between you despite the way you act whenever he returns to you injured. That’s self preservation, nothing more. And it aches through him, wanting a hand to touch him willingly. To not shy away because of his reputation. Feels your little teeth on his lip and it’s an effort to not nip you back when you wrench your head away, face flushed and breathless. Teetering between need and anger as he tangles his servos in your hair and claims your mouth again, his spike pulsing where it’s trapped. Because if this is all he can have, this one sided bond as broken as he is, he’ll take it.

• You can feel that humming from his spark, your skin prickling everywhere he’s touching you. You’ve heard that hum before when he’s held you against his chassis, but now you can feel it running over you. Through you as an ache that’s pulling at you, spinning you tight with need. Know you should try to get free, get some space between you so you can think. Because with those big hands on you? There’s only that need to feel him inside you right now, feeling molten with it. Gasping when he hits his knees hard enough to jar you.

• Legs hooked around him, heels digging into his aft as you move against him, making a low, breathy sound of pure need, he’s on a wire’s edge. Nearly knocking you loose as his palm thumps against the berth, bowing over you. His other hand struggling with your coverings before he growls and begins shredding them with his claws. Feels your mouth find the mesh of his neck and bite, hands clinging tighter when he tries to disentangle you. Finally your butt hits the berth, hooded eyes dazed as he frees his spike and covers you again, pulling away what’s left of your coverings. Not wanting to give you time to think about what’s happening, because you might demand he stop and he can’t.

• Arching as his servos slide against you, mindful of his claws, you’re aware of how terrible an idea this is. But as a servo spears into you to stroke deep, it’s hard to remember why you shouldn’t. Only that you want this. Need it. The details on why you need to stop him instead of spreading your thighs wider, feeling him grip his spike and slide himself against you slipping through your fingers. “Please.”

• You’re already so slick for him, stroking the head of his spike against you until he finds you and burying himself deep. Feeling how tight and wet you are as you take him, that needy sound you make as he stretches you. Can feel the bond between you both, demanding more, demanding to claim you. To claim all of you not just your body. “Such a good pet,” he snarls as your fingers dig into the seams of his plating. Maybe you still think you can get away. Delude yourself that he might get bored and let you go. Hips moving in slow, deep drives, your eyes meet his optics, your lips parted. Staring down at you as he begins to move faster, losing himself in rutting against you, those needy cries you make, and the wet sound of your body taking his spike.

• Hooking your legs around him, every deep drive of his spike inside you winds you tighter, nudging you toward that edge. And you’re moving against him, chasing your release, your world narrowed down to this moment, the feel of his spike inside you, his big hand gripping you, and his warm plating stroking against you. Then he’s shifting against you with a snarl, changing his angle and you come apart with a startled cry. Feel those sharp denta grip your shoulder, barely breaking the skin in little pinpoints of pain, thrusting as you tighten on him. Burying himself deep, rocking himself against you as he releases. Feeling boneless as he eases himself down against you, keeping his weight off of you.

• Venting raggedly, he watched you meet his optics then turn your head away. Denying him. Making him want to catch your chin and turn your face. Wanting to see those eyes dark with passion, because when you ignore him it reminds him of when he’d been nothing. Before he’d rose up and made them all know his name. Knows this is different, but needs you to acknowledge him. To see him. “I’m keeping you,” he growls. “Because you’re mine.” There’s those angry, defiant eyes locking with his optics. Watches your jaw clench and rocks himself against you, spike stroking inside you just to feel you shudder under him, your fingers gripping him harder. “This is mine.” He’s not even surprised when you smack him, laughing and burying his face against your throat, glossa sliding against the marks his denta made. His whether you like it or not. And you will see him, he won’t be invisible ever again.

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[revelboo]

I started this September 26th- almost two months ago... and there's 954 of you already. So, I'll write something a bit more polished as a scenario when it hits 1000 for you guys as a thank you. Poll below the cut

[revelboo]

I loved the way you wrote about Megatron in Earthspark. Can you keep writing?

(Please I beg you. It's impossible to find anything about him)

🥺😭😭

Give Up/Give In Pt 8

TF Earthspark Megatron

• Aware of Bumblebee staring at him and the scout’s infuriatingly knowing smirk as he patrols outside the house while you and the Malto family eat, he vents on a growl. “If you want to say something, say it.” Keeping the house in sight since your panic attack still has him out of sorts. That you’d not only reached for him, but clung to him. And somehow his rumbling growl hadn’t made things worse, you’d actually calmed for him.

• “Nothing,” Bee shrugs, hands spread. “You just keep surprising me.” Optics narrowing, his big servos flex. He’d forged these hands into weapons of war, but you’d still felt safe in them. Entrusting yourself to him. And the scout had walked up in time to see him lower you to your feet and gently wipe away the tears so no one else would know you’d broken down.

• “You still see the monster,” he says. Not really a surprise, when he can’t even escape the weight of his own sins. Taking care of you won’t undo the atrocities he’d committed, but he needs to do it. To prove to himself that he’s not still the warlord driven to do whatever it takes, willing to even burn his own world to ash in a ruthless bid to win. Knows that everything went too far and that was his fault, and that there’s no undoing his past. But this he can do. Your life won’t be lost because of him.

• “Hard not to.” Helm tipping up toward the full moon overhead, Bumblebee shrugs again, but he appreciates the blunt honesty. “But we’ve all done things. It was war.” The words are a kindness really, but they do little to ease his conscience. How many lives had he ruined? Destroyed? It’s no wonder his former followers hate him with such visceral passion. They’d believed in him and he’d dragged them into the Pit. And left them there while he’d walked away free.

• Opening the door, you inhale the night air, smelling honeysuckle and pine as you find the glow of optics in the dark. Hesitating when you see the blue pair and sitting on the step to wait. The Malto’s are nice, kinder than you’d expected, so kind it almost hurts. Underlining your own distant relationship with your family. Going home for you, seeing family, means a trip halfway across the country and you like your independence. But you miss belonging.

• Unsure how to respond to the scout, he turns as the house door opens and he sees you silhouetted there, just a shadow limned in light before you sit on the steps. And he’s striding across the yard. Because you need him and he needs you to prove to himself that their worst fears aren’t right. That he can really change, that he’s not still the monster that haunts his recharge, hands wet with energon. Reaching toward you and his own redemption with those same hands.

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[revelboo]

I actually really like your star-soundwave-reader dynamic💌 if you introduce megs to it later somehow thats cool too, but its still so so perfect as is💜💜

I might still go that way, I haven’t really decided

Everything is Alright Pt 60

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• Still more asleep than awake, you murmur a protest when Starscream shifts against you, an arm tightening around you, servos splayed possessively against your spine as he vents against you. Still recharging as his chin brushes against your hair. It’s nice to wake up like this with his arms curled around you. Holding you instead of his servos draped across you as you lay on his much bigger frame. Just sleeping in his arms is so bittersweet because it’s the first time he’s really held you. And it’s only because he has no choice. Head turning when something brushes your ankle, you see Soundwave. His helm resting on his arm outstretched across the berth, a servo curled around your ankle as he recharges, sitting on the floor to let you and Star have his berth. Taking care of you both when he doesn’t have to. That tenuous warm feeling in your chest expands as you watch him and as if sensing your stare, his visor brightens.

• You’re awake, your warm emotions sinking into him where he’s touching you. Head lifting, he has to resist the urge to try and pull you away from Starscream. But the way the Seeker has wrapped himself around your smaller frame, there’s no way to do it without waking him. Reaching out, he tugs your blanket back in place to cover your naked lower body since you’ve kicked it off in your sleep. Freezing when you reach to touch his servo. “Thank you. For everything.” Like you need to thank him for tending to you. Do you really still not understand what you mean to him?

• “Always, little one,” Soundwave rumbles, reaching to touch your cheek and you’re aware of Starscream shifting against you. Breath catching as you wait for him to get angry about Soundwave touching you. But it doesn’t come. Instead Starscream presses his face against your shoulder, venting as his denta and lips graze you.

• “Any thought on our energon problem?” Starscream growls, raspy voice deepening before he deliberately nips against the soft skin of your throat while staring down Soundwave. “I can’t exactly retrieve more like this,” he adds as you make that little noise he’s come to love, shifting against him. Tempting him to mount you again with Soundwave watching.

• Rumbling in annoyance as Starscream’s palm slides down your spine to grip your butt and tug you more firmly against his frame while glaring at him and smirking in challenge. Trying to provoke him. And that little breathy sound you make in response goes right through him. Feeding hunger and need. Because he knows the Seeker will be inside you as soon as he leaves. Primus, help him. “I’ll return,” he growls, ignoring Starscream’s antics to reach and stroke a servo over your cheek, letting his touch linger as Starscream’s optics narrow. Leaving you to the SIC so he can steal from their already limited supply of energon.

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[revelboo]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME WHERE YOU GOT THAT ITA BAG 😭 I NEED TO MAKE A STARSCREAM ONE IF THEY HAVE HIM

It’s from this seller on Etsy. They have Misfire, Sunstorm, and Slipstream left looks like. I keep going back to look at Misfire and talking myself out of it, but he’s so pretty

Point of Extinction Pt 5

TFP Shockwave x Reader

• “Come, Thirteen.” Servos flexing, he waits as you look up at him then hesitantly approach. Still less trusting now since you’d seen Fourteen even though he’d gone to great lengths to move his experiments into a soundproofed area far from your cage since. It shouldn’t matter, but this new fear of him snarls uneasily in his processor and spark. Makes those ghosts of memories surface more often. Because he broke your trust in him or because your fear is something familiar? It’s all illogical, counter to what he knows, but when you come to him and allow him to curls his servos around your little frame, the chaos eases. Calms.

• Having no idea what he wants with you, it’s hard to make yourself approach him when you can still picture what he’d done to that deer. The sounds it had made. Nothing makes noises like that unless it’s in excruciating pain. But there’s no point resisting him, making him have to reach to grab you might make him angry and that might land you on an exam table. Right now he seems content to scan you periodically and to ask questions. Lifting you clear from your cage, Shockwave settles himself at his desk and sets you down on top of it before reaching for one of the apparently hundreds of identical packets of MREs you really don’t want to think about how he came to possess. Sliding it toward you, but keeping the servo on it. “Do you fear me, Thirteen?” Reluctantly you nod, glancing up at that glowing optic then away. “What does that feel like?”

• Your eyes dart to him and away, arms wrapping around yourself while he waits. Needing to know, to untangle the illogical with facts. Things he can weigh and quantify. Little shoulders lifting, you wrap your arms around yourself. “Nervous?” When he doesn’t move, you blow out a breath. “Like something skittering inside me, breaking me apart from the inside. Like I can’t breathe or move. I don’t know how to explain it. Don’t you get scared?” No. He doesn’t feel anything, except this vague unease he can’t understand. But sometimes those memories that don’t fit ring through him. That stranger had been terrified at the end. Relinquishing the food, he watches you reach for it and sit down to tear at the packaging. “Do you feel anything?”

• His helm tips, that single optic flaring brighter as he stares at you. Had he felt anything when he’d hurt that animal for science? Any guilt at all? “No,” he says as your shoulders sag. Then his servo is under your chin, tipping it back up as he stares at you. “It bothers me.”

• Why had he admitted that? It’s makes no sense as his servo lingers against your throat, feeling your pulse. And you reach up to lay a little palm on him. “If you want to talk about it,” you murmur, offering him an uncertain smile. A tiny bit of trust despite still fearing him. No, he doesn’t want to talk about it. Can’t explain that sometimes his memories aren’t his. That in his dreams, his plating is white and blue, not purple. That he comes out of recharge shaking uncontrollably, feeling like his spark is being torn between now and a past that isn’t his. And maybe never was. That he always feels like he’s dreaming and numb to everything but the constant tide of frustration seething inside him.

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[revelboo]

I need a continuation of that TFOne Starscream, you're writing is so so good

Thanks!

Inside Out Pt 4

TFO Starscream x Reader

• Entering his quarters, he vents softly to himself as he hears the silvery sound of the length of your leash sliding against his berth as you launch yourself from the nest of blankets he’d left you in and retreat closer to the wall where your leash is tethered. “Haven’t I asked you to greet me when I return?” He growls, setting the boxes he was carrying down and seizing the excess length of your leash to pull gently. Still hearing your startled yelp as you fall and are dragged closer by the cuff secured around your ankle. A necessity since he’d walked in on you tying your blankets into a rope with the intent to find a way to climb down and escape. “Well?” Sprawled on your back, your coverings rucked up to reveal soft skin, you scowl up at him.

• Reminding yourself that flipping off the giant alien jerk keeping you as a pet isn’t a good idea if you want to live, you bare your teeth at him instead. It’s not a smile by any means, but he likely doesn’t know the difference anyway. “Welcome home,” you hiss, sitting up and trying to tug the stupid leash out of his servos. Falling back and banging your head hard enough on the berth to make you bite your tongue when he yanks on it in retaliation. “Lord Starscream,” you add, tone venomous, tasting blood.

• “No fight today?” Optics narrowing as your jaw works and you don’t try to get back up, he reaches out a servo to stroke your cheek, down your neck, across your collarbone and then you finally stop playing at being obedient and submissive. Smirking as you roll and then kick at his servo, face red. And he cages you under his palm, almost laughing when you drop the act and scream at him, feet and little hands lashing out until you exhaust yourself. “And to think I brought you gifts.”

• Gifts. Things like the leash most likely. Furious, you wait as he reaches to unhook the end of your leash from its hook and curls his servos around you, lifting you to his chassis. Hating that your tension melts away when he presses you to him, that familiarity you despise calling to you until you lay your cheek against him. Feeling the thrum of his spark, that feeling of well-being that comes from contact with him spilling through you. “Go away,” you mutter, eyes closing as you soak in his heat. Needing him, but not wanting him.

• Venting as he cradles you to him, he uses a servo to examine the ankle your leash is attached to, the skin reddened under it and around your ankle. Trying to squirm out of the cuff attached to you or was it from where he’d pulled you out of hiding? Guilt twisting about his spark, he sits on the edge of the berth and pulls one of the little boxes closer. “You need this contact as much as I do,” he rasps, soaking in the beat of your little heart as that connection strengthens when he slides a servo under your covering to find warm skin. “We don’t have to be enemies.” He hasn’t been able to figure out the nature of his connection to you from searching the archives, but he isn’t about to ask Shockwave, either. While he’d likely figure it out, you probably wouldn’t survive his experiments. Servo stroking along your hair, he picks up a box and offers it in his hand. It’s bigger than you are and you squint up at him, expression suspicious. You don’t trust him and he doesn’t blame you. Knows it shouldn’t bother him, but it tears into his spark all the same. Because he knows this isn’t right, it shouldn’t be like this.

• Those red optics are staring down at you expectantly and you reluctantly lean away from his warmth, from that lie of safety and belonging and pick at the tape on the side of the box. “Did you steal this from an Amazon delivery truck?” His expression goes blank so you decide he absolutely did. Tearing into the box, it’s loaded with more boxes and packaging. All of it absolutely random. Laundry detergent, moon pies, flavored water, a body pillow, under eye masks, what might be a dog harness or bondage gear, the latter you decide as you find a ball gag and shudder, rainbow boba, instant coffee, a mix of men and women’s clothes, and a kid’s unicorn comforter and sheet set. “Thanks,” you mutter, burying the harness and gag at the bottom, because nope.

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