#idw tarn x reader

[ikkosu]

"You're the most jealous man I know."

"You know other men?"

— Prowl, Pharma, Tarn probably.

[revelboo]

So......

With the new bots being added wat kinks do you think they have?

Also you turned me into a Megs fan. I came for the Soundwave and have been hit with the Megatron hots. And the whirl.

Waking up to more fics is great!! But don't forget to look after yourself

More Scenarios

Various Transformers x Reader

18+ content 🌶️

Knockout

• “Just to make sure you keep your grubby little paws to yourself,” he growls as you wriggle against the soft material he’s bound your wrists with. Huffing at him as his servos lift your hips with casual strength and you feel his spike slide against you. “Can’t smudge the paint.” Back arching as that spike slowly stretches you, you moan. “Do you know how wrong this is? How illicit?” Gripping your hips, he thrusts against you, optics narrowing as his attention dips to where your bodies are joined. Knowing he loves it. Loves that this is taboo and scandalous as much as he loves to complain. Toes curling, you whimper.

• “It’s obscene,” you moan, that breathy sound stringing him tight. Part of him hates how addicted to the feel of your body he is. To watching his spike shiny with your need sliding into your wet heat, the way your grip him. Hips snapping against yours, just to hear that wet sound. To make you whimper and squirm, so responsive to him. So vocal.

Shockwave and Soundwave

• Tension thrumming through Shockwave as his head tips to watch you squirm against Soundwave, head thrown back against the communication’s officer as you come apart. Hears the other mech murmur against you, shuddering slightly as he releases, servos tracing the delicate line of your throat with one hand, the other sliding from your hip to your lower belly. Watching Soundwave’s hands slide to grip your hips and help you out of his lap. Your warm smile faltering some when you come to him.

• Nerves thrumming as Shockwave’s head tilts to study you, there’s always the uncomfortable feeling that you’re an experiment to him, not a person. Soundwave you trust to an extent, he seems to care about you despite how distant he can be sometimes, but Shockwave? This one makes you shiver and not in a good way. When he just stares, you give up and drop to your knees between his spread thighs. Comforted by the fact that Soundwave is right there watching as you grip his spike and slide your mouth along Shockwave’s length and he makes that low, rumbling snarl, but doesn’t move. Doesn’t try to touch you, just trembles. Because this has become normal. Him watching, but rarely touching.

• That warm mouth of yours slides against his spike, tongue stroking over the head. Antenna flicking back, he watches Soundwave kneel behind you. Unable to move as you make a hitching sound of pleasure when Soundwave mounts you again. Mouth working his spike he cautiously reaches out a hand, processor stuttering when that disjointed feeling of wrongness slams through him, seeing the cannon at the end of his arm when he’d been sure it should be a hand. Shaking as your eyes flick up at him in worry, he runs the smooth metal muzzle of the cannon over your cheek. It should be a hand, shouldn’t it? He’s not sure. Antenna flicking as Soundwave rumbles at you, hips rocking as he breeds you, Shockwave focuses on that. That low, crooning purr and the feel of your mouth on his spike. Letting those sensations ground him in the present.

Rodimus

• Curled against your back, he slides a palm down your arm and twines his servos with your fingers. Hears the sleepy sound you make when he tugs your hand down your body and spears a servo inside you, rocking your knuckles against yourself. Feels you squirm against his hold. “Not even wake, yet,” you protest, voice hitching adorably as he rocks his hips against your butt, teasing his spike against you.

• Leg sliding in the blankets as he releases your hand to grip your thigh with his wet servos and then he’s driving inside you with a growl. Rolling you to pin on your belly as his spike slides deep, thrusting urgently. Rushing for that finish line with no patience at all. Laying your cheek on your outstretched arm, you look back at him, his optics so bright as he ruts against you, growling in a broken mix of English and Cybertronian. “With my sparklings…. Frag, so tight… mine…” Sparklings. He’s said that before while inside you. More than once and you never remember to ask what that means, but as he ruts against you, nothing else is important aside from the feel of that thick spike driving deep over and over.

Whirl

• Leg kicking out slightly as he bends you over the edge of the surface he’d lifted you onto, you shiver as one of his pincers slides against you, hooking around one of your thighs and spreading you open for him. Feel his spike slide against your inner thigh as he tries to line up with you, refusing to let you just roll onto your back and help him. “So wet,” he growls, the outer curve of his pincer sliding against you. “Be loud.” Because you’re in Ultra Magnus’s office. How many times has he fucked you across the poor guy’s desk? You’re almost positive he wants Magnus to walk in on the two of you going at it.

• “Fuck me already.” Impatient and needy, your tone has an angry edge that makes him shudder with delight. Shifting behind you until the head of his spike finds you, he drives deep, thrusting urgently. Figuring out how to mount you with his unique anatomy had been fun. His tit guns as you refer to them in the way in most positions. This way, though? He can rut against you, pincers grabbing onto the edge of the surface he has you on, giving him extra leverage. With the added thrill of possibly getting caught fragging you on Magnus’s precious, oversized datapad of rules.

Tarn

• Big servos scraping against the berth under him, a rough snarl escapes him as his hips buck against you. Big frame draped over your back, you’re tempted to risk his temper to try and remove the stupid blindfold. Especially when you feel his lips brush against you, sliding up behind your ear. Wanting to see his face, but knowing he’s weird about it. Denta grazing your ear lobe, he shifts behind you, his warmth leaving your back before placing a palm between your shoulder blades to push you down.

• So obedient as you lower your upper body, hips up and his hands slide to grip your hips as he moves against you, spike stroking deep. You feel so much tighter this way, gripping his spike as he stares down at you. Sees your blindfolded head turn to lay on your arm, lips parting. Making those little, ragged sounds that string him tight. Movements growing rougher when you push back against him, crying out. Fisting his spike as he keeps bucking, drawing it out as his servos tighten on you. Snarling as he releases inside you, palm surfing up your skin while you tremble under him. “Don’t,” he growls in warning when you try to touch the blindfold. Feels you tense under him, but you don’t argue, turning your face away. Can feel the disquiet in his spark as he slowly rocks himself against you, reluctant to leave the wet heat of you. Why does it matter so much to you? No one sees his face, he tries his best not to see it himself. Venting softly, he braces a hand near your head and curls his frame over you.

Constructicons

• Crying out, head tossed back against Mixmaster, your thighs tremble. Six sets of hands gripping you, keeping you suspended between them as, which one is it now? Scrapper ruts against you. There’s a mouth sliding warm against your hip, a glossa sliding over your belly. Another mouth finds yours as you arch and buck in their grip. Hearing them murmur to you as Scrapper’s spike strokes deep, toes curling as he drives you to that peak again, your brain too muddled to be sure, but you think they’ve started a second round. That Scrapper had already fucked you. “I-I can’t, please.”

• “We’ve got you,” Mixmaster says. Laughing softly as you writhe against them with a breathy cry, arching like you’re trying to escape, and he rumbles at you, hands curled around you under your arms as you toss your head back against him, soft hair sliding against his plating. “Take good care of you,” Bonecrusher growls, his hands under your hip as he bends forward over you. “Such a good little mate,” Hook adds as you buck in their hold, crying out as you milk Scrapper’s spike.

Drift

• “Slow down,” he growls, shuddering and hips lifting slightly as you bounce on his spike. “Not going anywhere.” Worry about you overexerting yourself mingling with his fear of losing control. Of slipping again, rolling you under him and taking you hard and fast. Hates how rough he’d been with you, even though you’d insisted you liked it. Servos stroking your hips as he watches you ride him, those lovely eyes meeting his optics.

• “Not made of glass,” you gasp, rolling your hips as you chase that high. Feeling his palms stroking over you, touch so gentle. Because you’re still not well, but you’re not an invalid either. You want this, want him. And he’s holding back. Always keeping himself in control, but when he slips? When he takes you with that urgent, edge? Fucking you like he might die if he’s not inside you, that had been electric. Made you feel alive in a way you desperately need.

These nerds…

[michaela-o]

Hi hello everyone :D🧡

So a while back i made a post about Cybertronians witnessing humans being feral when in fight or flight response or how humans act when we are on adrenaline in general because i really like this idea. But hear me out- :D

Protective, scared and angry human = very scary human

We all have this natural need and drive inside us to protect. Wether it's the person we love, family or friends. I myself am very protective when it comes to anyone i love. I would throw myself in front of a bear if i had to. Or i would fight anything and anyone if i had to protect the people i love.

Now imagine if the human was the size as an average cybertronian: (slight warning for blood at the end)

The Lost Light got under attack by the infamous DJD and everything goes to shit so quickly no one has time to react as the deadly members tear through the ship and with Tarn having one goal in mind and that was to find Megatron. His optics burning with lust for killing him. Eventually he finds him and they both fight together. The human is watching this from the security office locked in with other members of the Lost Light. They all watch in horror and worry as they both fight. But Tarn doesn't play fair. As Megatron gets knocked by him the other bots notice as the human's breath quickens, their frame is shaking a bit and their teeth are tightly gritted together. Their protective drive has woken up.

Enough is enough..

You know what Megatron did..but no one has the right to take away someone else's life..especially someone like Tarn...Megatron was almost like the father the human claimed to never have..

As the human turns swiftly to unlock the door the other bots try to stop them but the human is determined and full of anger and adrenaline as they push past the bots who are taken aback. The bots are not fast enough as the human is already sprinting towards the scene where everything was happening. So many thoughts and emotions ran through them as they sprinted..anger, fear (you know because it's still fucking Tarn)

But no they aren't backing away now.

As they round a corner they barely make it in time because Tarn was already aiming his canon at Megatron.

The human suddenly jumps in front of Tarn and they srunch their nose and bare their teeth at him, their arms spread over Megatron. Tarn stares in disbelief and then he chuckles. You may be the size of a cybertronian but you're still a fragile dumb human.

"If you want him..you're gonna have to go through me first.."

As the human growled no one wanted and couldn't believe what they were seeing and hearing back at the security room on the cameras. Thats it the human has gotten crazy. NO ONE would do a thing like this. It's like you were asking to be killed. It's the DJD.. Even Megatron's expression almost changed to bewildered and wide eyed.

Of course the human got a good beating from Tarn but there was just something in them. This weird wild look in their eyes as blood dripped down their forehead into their eye and down their chin. Scratched and battered with at least 4 broken ribs they still stood with determination. Tarn was enjoying this but it was getting frustrating and on his nerves. Tarn is deadly and strong but the human was agile and quick. As Tarn was about to finish Megatron once again (because he thought the human was finished) they once again threw themeselves in front of him with this crazy look in their eyes and the next words rang out in everybody's ears.

"Over, my, dead body..."

The human was shaking, growling and huffing slowly loosing their strenght but reinforcements were quickly arriving and the DJD was in disadvantage so they had to fall back but of course Tarn would be back and would take the human with him the next time.

And this is how i think bots view this :3

From the cybertronian perspective:

The bots, often more concerned with survival and the war’s toll on their world i think would most likely react with shock. Tarn is a fanatic Decepticon who enforces ideology without mercy, would represent the last person they’d expect a human to stand against. They might interpret the human's bravery as foolhardy or even reckless, given Tarn’s terrifying reputation, but they may also see it as a powerful symbol that courage and conviction can transcend size and power.

From Tarn's Perspective:

I think Tarn, who worships Megatron’s original vision and detests any deviation from it, would be utterly incensed. The idea of a human—whom he views as nothing more than an insect—intervening to protect Megatron would enrage him. He’d view it as an ultimate insult to Megatron's legacy and to the Decepticon cause, likely intensifying his resolve to destroy them both to "cleanse" this offense.

Aaaa i hope you enjoyed reading as much as i did writing :3🧡 here i also drew a picture of the human so you could imagine the whole scenario better :3

[tinydefector]

I was just interested if you were a suckered for the clothing and fabric and perfume trope as I am. In the sense where fabrics and a abundance of organic flora was considered more common for higher class cybertronains but that even then it was pretty scarce. Imagine a bot or con after getting over their fears or mild disgust of the squishness of humans so to speak the next few things they notice is how many types of hair there are. How many styles and how many different ways to dye said hair. It drives them nuts the feel such softer fibers all together to make a more denser form. Curled,staight,wavy it all catches their optics. Painted nails almost similar to paint for their frames. Tattoos so intriguing. A human willingly damaging their surface that is more fragile than their metallic frames. It's a living scar. And they can't help but slowly come to love it to when they see how much their human complain does. But fabric? God they almost get drunk off of it. When they get a hug they shiver at the smooth article that brushes on their frame. The variety. So many styles and colors. So many meaning behind patterns and techniques. They can't help but almost grow jealous hearing how far back a simple stich can come from in human history. Humanity dressing itself in plush silks and flimsy polyester but it's all gold compared to what the cybertronains have come to crave. Imagine them having made themselves smaller so they could be inside your living space and they can't help but notice all the fabrics. All the plush surfaces. Their in heaven fully convinced they're going to meet the great primes. And if you had a scented burning candle? Sweet or citrus they can't help but want to inhale deeply to capture the scent. Perfumes? God their drunk whenever a human walks into a enclosed space because all mechs and femmes are fighting themselves to not snatch you up and keep you. If you use scented body wash or scented lotion then can practically taste it on your skin if you are near or hug them. They crave it when it's late at night and they've got you sobbing and thighs shaking as they kiss and lap at your scented thighs. And if theirs multiple humans in a space? That almost has a bot slurring their words as iff they just had the best energon. Just some thoughts haha I'm very sorry it's so long. I'm just a suckered for all these headcanons and just how while they may be disgusted and have hatred for humanity some fo them can't help but swoon for so many qualitys of their human companions that are nothing like their skin. So soft and complaint and so very warm at heart.

So I do have some fics on this stuff one is

Ratchet x reader. Involving perfumes effecting cybertronians like a sex potion or sex pollen.

Then I have

Starscream x reader. Involving the infamous dress and him testing out different outfits on his partner.

This small collection of bots reacting to nipple piercings (was like my first fic I ever wrote here)

_________________

I am quite a sucker for the clothing and fabric and perfume trope. I really enjoy writing cybertronians who adore seeing their partner drapped in shimmering fabrics. Becuase to the human its could just be a satin sheet, but to the cybertronian it is luxury, it showcases so much about you and every chance they get they love getting to just feel or touch the fabrics.

Imagine: your cybertronian is sat on theirs berth which is a mix of almost foam matting(yoga mat/ expanding foam) They don't lay on just metal but it's not particularly comfortable for their human. So one day, they introduced them to memory foam, and its like the bots world has opened up. It becomes a soft, comfortable recharge. But as you start bringing sheets, blankets, and your pillows, it makes the bots feel as if they are falling in love. They love it when you drape the soft fabric over them and make yourself almost a next on their chassis with the soft bedding. To they it feels like a luxury that you are pampering them even if it's just to make yourself more comfortable. It's the fact you leave them in their suite on their berth take makes their spark clench in delight knowing you'll be coming back.

I also tend to write cybertronains have alot more nasal sensors and detectors to the point they can break down the partials to annalise them. The smell of fresh lining is something that effects them almost like catnip with a cat. They will roll around in the fabric optics wide. Engines roaring in delight. As their joints squeak and clank against the walls.

I also love writing that Fabric was something that only the Highest of society had on cybertron, but mainly due to have small the fibers are it is extremely hard for cybertronains to replicate the material, so it fetched for high prices when Imported from organic planets. If you were of the lower classes, you would be lucky if you had a tarp or some sort of soft plastic as it was also still very sort after. So you can imagine how the cybertronains reacted once on earth, even while undercover. Fabric is such a huge part of human culture that cybertronians, when they find even just a pretty scrap of Fabric, keep it as a token. As if to say "frag you" to the universe.

But I can also see a human finding the stash of Fabric cut off's and offering to sew them all together in an almost patchwork like blanket for their bot and you can bet your ass you will have that cybertronian on thier knees worshipping you for it.

______

"Hey, we have hail forecasted," their voice calls out to the vehicle parked in the driveway. The cybertronian is rather quiet as they register what was said to them. "It isn't acid rain, so it won't be anything too bad." they try to argue only to have a large old blanket thrown over them. "Hey, what are you doing?" It sends shock throught their system having something so soft drapped over their frame.

"I'm covering you up so you don't get hail damage, I sadly can't get you into the garage at the moment so the next best thing I can do is cover you up with some blankets and a tarp so you don't get damaged by ice falling out of the sky" they explain as they throw another over the vehicle. Making sure to fully cover the bot before throwing a waterproof tarp over them, too. "Sorry, I don't have anything better than this, but it will keep you dry and our of harm's way." Those words hit their spark in a way they never would have thought it would. They are left almost speechless, cosy, and somewhat warm as the hailstorm rolls in.

________________

When it comes to hair colour, skin colour, and tattoos. It fascinates them so much to see such diversity and colour on a species they originally believed to be quite dull. It gets to the point when making their holoform avatars they love exploring and expressing themselves as if making a sims character. Even going as far as some get custom paint jobs of the tattoos, they get on their avatars because, for them, it's the closest thing they can have to tattoos. But think about you getting a tattoo in a shop right across from where your cybertronian partner is getting their paint job because it was a cute couples day out.

And don't get me started on how much cybertronians love human's hair. The fibers are so different to them and they love the feeling of it, they just have to be very careful when running a digit theought thier lovers hair as to not get it jammed in the joints causing you pain.

Another thing that cybertronians are fascinated by is humans' willingness to injure themselves in the name of beauty. From tattoos, piercings, injections, and surgery. In honesty, it's not that different from frame ulteration, but they don't know how a human can do it. The bots can turn their pain sensors off while humans are just soldier on through it.

I love the idea that the bots also horde car freshners that their humans get them. It becomes a full-on pokemon card situation of them trading double ups, begging their partner to get them others so they can rub it in their friends' faces. But air freshners weren't a thing until Earth, and the bots love how it makes their frame smell different from the oil, grease, and car smell.

But perfumes gods I love the idea that perfumes have a certain chemical reaction to Cybertronian systems to the point to turns them into a raging horny bot who can't get enough of how your skin taste and how desperately they try to literally lick the perfume off your skin as if it were the riches and most expensive high grade energex on the market. It also leads to a lot of personal working with the bots not being allowed to wear perfume/cologne. Deodorants don't affect them the same way, but they also enjoy how they smell quite a bit.

But yes I love the idea of perfumes pretty much working like a pheromone spray and don't get me started on actual pheromones spray, your not leaving that bots berth for atleast 3 days, they will bring you food, water and anything you want but it literally overrides their system protocol and makes them desperate to breed you.

In conclusion, DO NOT wear perfume or Pheromone spray near the bots unless you don't intend to be leaving the berth for at least 3 days if not more becyase they can and will keep you their.

________________

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[darkastarte]

Just grab a finished one from the sketches at random.

[signedaiko]

Hii just saw the regenerating human on the DJD thingy and I was wondering what each of them thought of reader individually 👀

Decepticon Justice Division [MTMTE]

In which the DJD finds a human far, far away from their planet, that they just cannot seem to kill.

Reader is: Gender Neutral | Human | Unaligned. Platonic.

Warning: Hurtful comments/thoughts | Reader 'death'

Helex thinks you're cool, freaky, but cool

What someone is doesn't really bother him; organic or not, if you can't be killed, then he may as well enjoy your properties

You're not worth even trying to kill, not his usual way, because human fluids get really caked on, and he doesn't want to clean up stuck-on flesh

Kaon will never get over how infuriating it is that you can just...live through his strongest shocks

They don't even incapacitate you for that long; a week, and you'll be up and at it again

Instead, he's focusing on what he can do to make your life a living hell: restraints, isolation, treating you like shit

Oh well, he'll get over it eventually

Nickel hates organics a lot, so she doesn't mind watching your torture even if it does little to you mentally

But, eventually, enough is enough for her

If it's really not doing anything, and they won't get rid of you, she will put up with you

She is interested in monitoring your mental state and determining whether it can revert to its initial emotional state

Tarn just doesn't have time for these sorts of things

His voice can't control non-mechanical forms, so it's not as if he can do anything but shoot you or get creative

He's fine with keeping you around for research purposes, and of anyone, he's the least concerned with your existence so long as you don't get in the way of anything

Once his team gets bored, like they always do, he'll throw you away again

Tesarus is bothered, only because you're easy to step on, and it's extremely difficult for him to clean all the nooks and crannies of his peds

You're not that interesting, you're easy to kill and shred and take forever to put yourself back together

If you want to hang around him, fine, he'll talk if you ask the right questions, too

Vos finds you most intriguing, though that is of his scientific nature to want to study

You're also not as small compared to him, so he can really get a good look at how your flesh pulls itself back together after being torn and ripped

It's fascinating, and you've become a frequenter of his lab so he can forcefully collect samples and try to recreate the technology with Cybertronian metals

Author's Note - These guys r a little mean and evil but thats cool...thank you for requesting!

Part One

[jazzy-man13]

Hcs for dating IDW Tarn, Deathsaurus, and Megatron

Tarn: He would only date you if you were a con. No exceptions.

Not a fan of pda, but if some other bot tries to flirt with you, he'll "take care" of them. He'll then proceed to keep his servos on you for the rest of the night to ensure that it doesn't happen again. A servo on your back, an arm around your waist, a hug from behind, you name it!

Would only use your real name around others, but in private he'd probably call you some scrap like "My pet" or "dolly". (Don't ask why. Also, major ick imo)

He won't treat you very differently from the rest of his crew, but he might be a little more lenient when it comes to you completing any assignments. He expects you to work as hard as anyone else would "for the cause" but you're definitely his favorite

Deathsaurus: He'd prefer to date a decepticon, but he's also not entirely opposed to someone from another faction. You'd have to be pretty special though.

Big pda mech! He firmly believes in expressing his love in whatever way possible, usually meaning he'll be found holding your servo or waist. As we all know, he has a strict "no secrets" policy, meaning he'll introduce you to his troops as soon as he can. lowkey just wants an excuse to show you off

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he loves pet names! Darling, sweetspark, dear, my love, my spark- he's got a bunch of 'em for you. If you call him any of these back, he'll be grinning to no end.

Obviously, if you want to be with him, you'll have to respect his crew and his troops. He won't tolerate you or anyone else treating them like scrap. If you're kind and supportive of his troops, and get along with them well, he'll fall for you so damn hard and fast. He's a sucker for a responsible, productive, and capable bot that'll pull their weight.

Megatron: He's fine with dating any faction, though there might be some guilt lingering in the back of his mind if you're a con.

Not big on pda, or physical affection in general. His love language is probably acts of service, like helping you out with some of your tasks. He's not big on pet names, but he might call you "dear" sometimes. He doesn't mind any pet names or nicknames you give him though.

He'll give you datapads with his poetry sometimes, and he might even recite it out loud for you as you get closer. He'd be helm over heels for you if you're into poetry and write some for him as well- it'll hang on the wall in his room and he'll have it memorized. Even if you're not into poetry, he still enjoys spending quality time with you. It's nice for him to not feel judged or scrutinized around someone for once.

[water-petal]

Tarn nation i present a new brainrot.

slasher! humanformer! tarn

slasher! humanformer! tarn

slasher! humanformer! tarn

slasher! humanformer! tarn

imagine tarn as a slasher like when y/n is just vibing she gets a call and we hear him say, "tell me darling? what's your favorite scary movie?"

heck if it's ghostface, tarn and overlord can be the duo or kaon and tarn.

slasher aside

he can work as pyramid head too, especially if it's humanformer au.

[robokisser2000]

PUNISH AND ENSLAVE:

Summary; sparing a autobot gets you in trouble, and not in the way you think.

_______________________________________________

Your optics were solely focused on the metallic flooring beneath your chair, only further shying away from Tarns broad stare.

He glared down at you, his red ruby optics casting a faint glow on your much smaller frame. 

The faint tapping of his clawed digits against the metal desk was the only sound in the tight office, it resonated off the hollow walls, bouncing around the room with each coordinated tap.

He watched you like prey, studying how you squirmed in your seat, and averted your gaze, waiting for you to submit, admit you were in the wrong and he was right, but,, that’d come at a later time, for now, he’s focused on delivering justice.

“Tell me,, did you really think that I wouldn’t find out,,? That I’d give you a simple pass, leeway, if you will. If you begged nicely,,?”

He paused, his dark and obscured face glinted as he shifted in his seat. The chair creaking under pressure as he leaned forward a bit, wanting a closer look of your fearful gaze.

“That’s not how I work, I deliver justice, not mercy. But you knew that already,, didn’t you,,?”

You did know that already, and you knew damn well not to waste his time on petty things like this. You swallowed down your collected saliva, feeling dread bubble in your lower chambers with each word he spoke.

He kept a polite tone, keeping himself proper as he thought about what to do with you. You weren’t a fighter, no no not at all, you were a meek thing, small and had no fighting experience. It was,, laughable, to him at least. To watch you squirm under his scorching gaze, his stare alone bothering you and making you scoot away from him.

He studied how you breathe, taking note and eyeing your chassis, watching as it rose and fell with each shaky and labored breath of yours. And yet, you still refused to look at him, to ashamed too. 

He drank up your fear, enjoying your anxiety and dread as he sat before you. With another creak, he shifted to rest on his elbow joints, his helm resting on his mechanical knuckles.

You tried your best to swallow your fear, because if you didn’t, Tarn would eat you alive. And that was a fact, something you tried desperately to avoid. He feeds off of your fear, taking pride in the fact he’s the cause of said emotions swirling and settling inside of you.

He tilted his helm, taking in your features as time clicked by, second by second, he only eyed you up. He caught himself glancing at your chassis more than once, taking in the mold and curves of it, every single intricate detail.

Perhaps he should,, shift the punishment a bit, feeling a small change of spark as he started to appreciate your build a bit.

With a heavy sigh he pulled back, leaning away and letting you breathe for the first time since you stepped in. He sat up, all proper as he glanced behind you, at the door.

“You were put on the list with the intention of learning your wrongs, so clearly you know why you are here, yes,,? You’re here to learn, and to indulge in your mistake, to make sure it never happens again.”

He paused again, taking a breath and relaxing a bit, now having an idea on exactly what he wants to do you.

A dark grin tugged at his dermas, going unnoticed by you of course, being obscured by the fear inducing mask of his. He wanted to see you break, to beg for redemption and forgiveness by his servo.

“Of course,, there is,, one way, to be forgiven.”

He went silent again, noticing the way your frame perked up when he uttered those words, hope started to brew in your spark at the mention of redeeming yourself.

If only you knew exactly what the cruel mech had in mind.

_______________________________________________

It was wrong, so very wrong. and Tarn knew that, but he hadn’t an ounce of care about it, more interested in indulging that frame of yours.

He moved like an experienced mech, you thought he was, with the way he touched you oh so confidently, acting as if he’s done this countless times.

Tarn quickly tugged you over, pulling you and pinning your much smaller build against his broad one, burying his faceplate into the crook of your neck to catch your musky scent.

You scrambled and squirmed in his strong hold, petrified that this, was well- the only option he gave you to redeem yourself.

He only pressed harder as you fought back, scared at what he wanted, to punish you is one thing, but to tear away your innocence is another. 

Tarns reasoning for such harsh treatment and pressure, was that he simply wanted a taste. The pressure building up in his lower abdomen as he grew excited about it, eager to get a slice of heaven, just for himself.

Tarn pulled back, giving you a moment before he took things a step further. Watching you catch your breath and shudder, disbelief wracking your frame as you settled down, last thing you wanted was for Tarn of all people to start talking. 

He quickly grew satisfied with you, pleased that you were slowly but surely submitting to his whim. Tarn pressed your frame into the table, coaxing you to lay on your front, exposing yourself further for him.

He let out a satisfied purr as you did, pleased by your obedience so far. Tarns servo wrapped around your hips, pulling your aft to grind against his groin panel, eliciting a groan mixed with a chuckle at your sudden squeak from the oh so bold action.

You kept still, trying your best to focus your breathing as his clawed digits traced your frames curves, dipping into the small details and watching as condensation built up in a trail from his ghostly touches. 

You, you would do perfectly.

______________________________________

Your servos dug into the metal of the table, scratching and clawing as you gripped at it, wanting to stabilize yourself and find a better grounding.

Your valve burned as he pushed in, aching and pulsing as Tarn slowly pressed in with a sigh. Your calipers clenching down and squeezing his spike, trying to force out the sudden intrusion. The head of his spike poked through the last seal, muttering profanity about how tight of a fit you were under his breath as he hilted finally. 

His spike was heavy inside you. the ribs only dragging at your valves sensitive and velvety walls. You felt full, your legs spread fully as you desperately tried to steady your breath and focus on adjusting to the sudden stretch.

His ribbed spike deliciously pulled on your valves tight walls as he pulled out, the tip of his spike still pressed inside as he shuddered in pure pleasure at the feeling.

With a slow grind he slowly pressed back in, eliciting a deep moan from deep inside his vocalizer. Your warm and wet valve only welcoming him back in, greedily swallowing him whole. 

The head of his spike kissed at your gestation chambers entrance as he hilted again, his thighs shaking at the fullness and feeling of your valve sucking him back in.

He held your hips still, the lewd smack of metal resonated throughout the room as his Hips met your aft in a swift thrust. A squeal escaped your intake and dripped down your glossa as he repeated the motion again, and again.

His thrusts were steady and languid, more determined on keeping pace and keeping his thrusts heard and slow. Your digits dragged across the table with each buck of his hips, the burn melting in searing hot pleasure deep inside the pits of your abdomen.

With each steady buck it sent your frame jumping higher up the table, moaning out like a Turbofox in heat. Pleasure overrode the feeling of guilt, your module blank as you attempted to recall exactly how you got in such a lewd position, but couldn’t really find yourself to care about it.

His spike bullied your ceiling node, abusing it as he sped up a bit, enjoying the pleasure from such harsh blows, each thrust only knocking the air out of you. 

He muttered unintelligible praises under his breath, appreciating of your compliance as he had his way with you. 

Before you knew it, you felt the knot deep inside snap, unwind as your frame shuttered and shut off for a nano-klik, your frame slump against the desk as your juicy valve fluttered around his spike, milking him as you came down from your high.

He gave a few lazy thrusts before finally coming undone, his spike tensed and twitched inside you, shooting ropes after ropes of thick trans-fluid into your valves canal. It was warm, and heavy inside of you.

Your optics clicked back on, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm your poor frame. Tarn on the other hand was in cloud 9, having had the best first frag ever. He reluctantly pulled out, not wanting to finish the fun yet.

He was mesmerized by the flood of trans-fluids, he watch in amusement as the thick and sticky fluids dribbled out of your stretched out valve, globs dribbling down your thighs and dripping onto the floor with small little taps. Your legs shook a bit, shuddering each time a small clump of the thick fluids leaked out of you.

Tarn gave you aft a small pat, retracting his spike back into his groins panel. He sat back down in his seat, taking in the sight of your pretty fragged out state. Your fans and vents on the highest setting to calm your poor frame down, the condensation slowly drying as you sat there, a bit unsteady.

Tarn was pleased, greatly so. You’ve earned your name being cleared from the list, so good job on your part. Tarn will make sure you,, slip up a bit more, so he could try this again.

______________________________________

UHM yeah

[tea333love]

angel and devil

[ikkosu]

MY DARLING MEDIC

(fem.human.medic.reader x pharma)

summary : tarn strikes up a deal with pharma. but when he refuses, the tank takes up a more personal measure to confront him.

warning : angst. fluff (if you look real close💀). blood. this is the DJD what'd you exoect. bro I fucking died writing this. wanted to cut this in like several parts but decided to merge it together. wanted to write this into a multi-chaptered fic but my commitment could never. could be a series ig. lovely headers by @cafekitsune

One moment he's caught Ambulon at gunpoint, then the next he’s scampering down the halls, clutching the vials close to his chassis as he tears through for an exit. The game is up. He should've known better than to nab the easy path. Responsibility purges itself a mile away when confronted at the baseline of his problems. Now, it's got him cornered and Ratchet — who barged into the room — his friend, his oh-so-dear friend, pulls up a blaster.

PHARMA doesn’t know what to say.

Points it at his face.

His own mirth were flaked with rust, crinkled into a grimace, where along the crevices, the miniscule cracks, oozed spatter of crimson. The gun was unsteady; he’s shaking. He's infected. The uncomfortable feeling of your insides twisting punched him back. It gutted him more than he could realize and he’s got no guts, just thrumming circuits struggling, and failing, to prevent the inevitable.

So he does just that— prevent the inevitable.

A, one, two, three BANG of bullets barrage the other side of the room. Disregarding the startled shout of surprise, he stepped round the corner, making a beeline for the shaft. Storms of remorse whirled around his processors as he pulls himself up the ladder. It jostled and creak, much like how his jitter palms does when he's drunk on andrenaline.

He’s made that mistake again. He should’ve known better. He should’ve. Impulse stumps logic and now, he's outside. In the cold. Digits clinched the edge, close to slipping. Close to falling. Ratchet is aboven and where his optics catch below, he can see the fall, the descending vertigo of ire before his eyes.

“Pharma, buddy — what the hell happened to you?”

YOU scroll aimlessly through the datapad.

He doesn’t know; he might never will.

Propped against the armchair, legs crossed and ankle bobbing, the screen flared your face with a soft blue-ish glow as the lines of words blurred together the more you strained to stare.

You're bored. Tired, too. But mostly bored. You were able to rest in your office after a tough match with several unruly patients. They were mechs. Pretty big mechs. And, they were a little, ah, how do you put this, organicophobes?

One of them had a more dire diagnosis : a t-cog malfunction. A type 3 kind. One that involved the t-cog overheating from too much usage, causing it to, in a way if you were to explain in human terms, like an organ, rot. It was deteriorating quick and the metal shards, miniscule ones, had already infected the internal circuitry.

A kind of job that required smaller, steady hands.

In short, they required humans.

You can handle a bit of discrimination — resentment against Organics was normal here despite the rules ensured to prevent so — but it still gutted you, knowing these mechs can do better than to hate another race from their own.

Especially when the said race tried to save their life.

A little bit of acknowledgment doesn't hurt from time to time.

You hope they were doing well, though.

The silence of the room was broken by footsteps approaching your office. The sliding doors opened with a swish and there you could discern the wide Cheshire grin of smugness amidst the slight darkness of the room. You should really stop shutting the lights, its begging to hurt your eyes. His teeth were practically glowing and was obvious he's quite in a good mood today.

You tucked the datapad inside the cabinet and caved against the cushion of the armchair, tipping your chin up into a smile, brimming with curiosity. One much as a 'whats he gonna pull this time?' type of curiosity.

“Working hard, I presume?” He croons, slinking across the room to your cubicle with several strides.

You quirk a brow; he's got something behind his back but you don’t press.

“Depends on which report you’re haggling me about,” You reply back, a playful smile. “Though, I can’t say for sure which region I am currently hard in, doctor. Would you like a scan?"

It catches him off gaurd for a moment — a simple one, two, three blink of his optics and your smile prods wider upon the not so subtle twitch of his wings. It sags in frustration.

“And here I thought I might have, for once, an appropriate greeting from my darling. I can never grasp your vulgar little mind, no less the entire mapping of your organic, squishy little brain,” His optics twitches as he vents. "But I’m not here to lecture you on prudence, no. I’ve got you a little, ah, herbal gift from my trip off world. The one you adore so much.” Then he adds with a mumble. "So much more than me, apparently.”

You perk up, and if you’re anything like a bunny, those ears would straghten right up to the brim. "What, like tea?”

"Even better, dear."

A ceramic mug is quickly perched onto your desk with a clink. You can't help but to coo in adoration at the utterly adorable little thing. It’s those tiny little teacups with teal blue flowers pasted across. A petite like holder, round and smooth, accommodated the curl of your finger. Nostalgia wrings you nto its clutches, back to teatime with your stuffed animals. You'd always be the princess.

You inhale the drink, warm steam wisps from tea, the color is an emerald-like-ore cadence under the stark white light.

"Since when did they have green tea in Nexus?"

"Earth, apparently. Globalization this, Space-localization that. Ignore the specifics. I'm sure you're better off without another lesson in economy?"

"I'd rather keep my thinking intact."

“Hm, that's a lot less fun. Anywho, I've taken some of my time to make it myself.” He pronounced, optics closed, regarding the cup with a theatrical wave proudly. "In fact, I have purchased the finest, well-endowed tea packet from the best of the best merchants. Never mind the cost, it's a splendid little thing, no?”

You’re still a little stunned admiring the cup but you blurt the first thing to mind.

“Smells fruity, for sure.”

He snaps one optic open, then entire look falls into offense. “Fruity is not what I had in mind.”

Ah, fuck.

"....nice?”

"Not that, either.”

“Ah, er, well — Great....?"

“Try again, dear.”

“C'mon docbot, what do you want me to say?”

”I’ve bought a tea packet that costs more than what this entire hospital is worth and you're describing it as 'nice?'”

You scrambled for words, fishing for the right one until— “Fragrant!" You snap your finger. "Right, fragrance.”

He stares.

You stare.

His rigidness loosens a little.

“One of these days I should really lecture you on the essence of compliments. See there? The mug is a ceramic. I’ve taken much care to handle it. It's from a lovely old organic. Her little shop in Nexus are a must to visit again."

You lean against your palm, eyes crinkled, cheeks round with warmth. “Is this a compensation?"

"For breaking your bed, yes—" you choke a little at that "—Now, go on, taste it.” He bends over to rest his elbows on the table, perching his chin on his two servos like a girl would, kicking their little feet during a sleepover.

“Don’t you have to buy me a new bed to compensate for that?”

He huffs, “ I already did. This is a bonus. Now, stop stalling. I have a patient to tend in a few hours and unless you've not taken a sip, I'm not going anywhere."

"Right, right. No pressure, doc."

"Very much."

You pinch the cup between your index and thumb. A pinkie is jutted out the for dramatics where you caught his lethargic look of disdain to it. And the final act concludes when the rim kisses your lips and you take a sip.

"Well?"

You stare at the ceiling for a moment.

"s'good...woah, real good." You blink in surprise, licking your lips to process the taste. "It's like my mother's! How'd you make this?"

“I was hoping you’d ask that.” He takes it upon himself to sit on your desk, inching close. "It's a, well, how do I put this — an obscure ingredient I am not willing to disclose."

"...You didn't lace this with laxatives didn't you?" You challenge.

"Laxatives?" He almost balks. "No, of course not. Why would I ever do such a thing? Think again."

You squint like that'll help you think. "Vanilla extract?"

"No."

"Oh, come on! Sugar?"

"Not a chance, dear."

"Milk."

"Far from close."

"Salt?"

"Are you serious?"

"What is this, 20 questions? I'll die by the time I cover the whole list of ingredients." You stand up with a huff.

All he does return, however, is a bemused crinkle of mirth from his eyes.He says nothing, only curling out a digit where it prods the area just above your chest. He taps it. Once. Then twice. It took a moment before the cogs turned on its own, and when it does, your cheeks flared up much to your chagrin.Oh. Oh. Your heart. The secret ingredient is—

—love?

You slumped to your chair, clutching your face to fight away the embarrassment at his audacity. You wanted to say it was the lamest, cheap, heart grabbing compliment of all time but you can't.

You just can't.

It's too....sweet.

"I swear Pharma...." If anything, you're reduced to a sputtering mess.

"Pharma? Not so much. I think 'God' would be the latter end. I swear to God, no?"

"Okay smartass."

"I know my rear-end is quite fine. Though, reduce your compliments to the bedroom, please."

"Pharma!"

There was something innately fond with how he’s fixated upon your scrunched up faces and agitated eyes.

Your eyes, they were always so expressive, so bright, much like stars when they flicker amidst the darkest night. A miniscule notion yet so wide in prominence. A haven he could dwell in when plagued upon with sullen days.

He couldn’t resist, and with his digits squishing your cheeks, he pulls you close. The agitation melts the moment you feel his lips against your temple, cheek, nose then your lips.

You glare at him when he pulls away."

"...You’re really making it hard for me to focus my angry molecules into an explosive blast, you know."

“Blast? Please, the least you can do is wield a knife and you're horrible at combat.Also, that's scientifically inaccurate.”

“Oh, shut up.” You look away, faltering at the sight of the door. “....You know what I meant.”

“How about you, as the humans would say, shut me up for a change?" His eyes became playful, tone borderline seductive. You're still fixated on the door. “On the topic of something explosive. Since we’re getting off our shift early today, I was wondering if you’re willing to test the new coils on our bed—“

“….Pharma?” But your eyes on fixed on somewhere else, or someone behind him.

"Doctor."

That isn't your voice.

Pharma’s sensor flares much as his wings did when he whirled around. His spark churned at the sight of the engraved decepticon insignia on his chassis and the gruesome signature mask upholstered on the mech’s face. A mask intended to revel fear, douse the flames of sanity.

Instantly the atmosphere shifted.

It dawns upon him how vulnerable he currently is. How close youre in proximity to the tank. How easily he could tear through the room and kill you. Lodge a knife through your chest. Leave you there on the floor. Skull, cracked. Brains, spooling. Blood agash. A simple red stain on the rag.

Pharma is terrified — he’s terrified of his unpredictability. Whatever thoughts are churning in his head are reduced to a blank slate as his shadow looms over, dwarfing his frame. He's not even moving. Just lingering there by the door. Any second now he could lose his temper and any second later you could be dead. Reduced to atoms. When crimson eyes flickered over, leaning to the side to get a better look, Pharma steps aside to shield you from his gaze.

“I’ll be there, Tarn.” He says stiffly.

The mech regards you for a moment before striding off. Away. The doors swished closed. How'd he knows where he was?

“Who’s that?” You ask, an innocent question he wished he could answer but Pharma pulls you up to your feet, his optics locked on the door.

“No one important, darling .” He replies yet he's already packing your stuff, pulling and shoving everything from your desk. His servos are jittery, wings twitching, brows furrowed.

You follow him around, wringing your hands. "Pharma? I thought you said—“

“Go home without me, dear.” He whirls around after tucking in your jacket into the last slot of your pouch and slips the bag over your shoulder. "It’s late and you have an early shift tommorow, no?"

You deflate, defeated. "Yeah, but i—"

"I have a meeting to attend. It'll be be fine. I won't stay up too late, I promise."

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He’s composed but you know he’s not. You know from the twitch of his digits he’s hiding something. He's a cunning deceptive man amidst all the layers but he's never a good liar. You wonder if it’s a reasonable time to press but in the end he’ll just figure out another lie to deceive you.

It'll hurt to leave.

You give him a wry grin. “Don’t stay up too late then or she’ll hog the covers.”

“Fortify the bed for me.” He pulls you for a kiss. "Get home safe."

PHARMA doesn’t want to open the door.

"Will do, doc bot."

Instead, he's pacing the front, wringing his servos, muttering to himself. He knows he should. But the temptation to stride in, get it over with, then walk back out was inviting. An in and out kind of ordeal wasn't the kind Tarn tolerates, much rather, he's mech hiding behind the facade of patience.

He's the worst to impatient.

Steeling himself, Pharma juts his chin up, bearing his usual haughty demeanor and barges through the door. Tarn's imposing presence was enough to halt his circuity but he pulls on the act, pedes an impatient thunk against the floor he rounds the desk, slumping on the chair. Unbothered.

“Make it quick. I have my duties to attend. Another influx of patients up from the east were admitted today. My schedules are full."

Tarn says nothing, regards him for a moment before tossing a deception insignia onto the table. It skidded across, bumping his elbow. By the scrapped off sheen of metal surrounding the symbol, it appears to be ripped out. There’s still energon on it. Barely dry. Pharma pulls away with a grimace. He needed air.

"One of your patients that I've taken care of."

By taken : unruly, unethical forms of torture.

“You ruined a nicely done table in favor of your dramatics.”

“Dramatics to which I prefer not to be taken ever so loosely, doctor." He flicks off a chip fron his talons. It plinks on his desk.

“You’re hiding them here.” He grits, a smooth croon of his voice. So deep, relaxing if not for the fact that he's close enough to snap his neck broken.

“No, I do not,”

“You know better than to lie to me, Pharma. You see, I know everything and it doesn’t take long for me to wrench that truth out of you, I assure you. So, answer me : are you hiding them here?"

“What does it matter to you?"

"A whole lot if you're anywhere close to the ranks of a deception warrior. But, for this circumstance, I will turn a blind eye to it and leave you alone."

Pharma straightens up, surprise. "Impossible. There should be a catch."

He can imagine how smug the smile behind the mask is. A crinkle of his eyes, a gentle prod of his lips — a facade so deceiving it was hard to believe this mech was the cause for all the sufferings they've imposed upon those traitors.

"Yes. And I'll get to the point. I accepted your rejection to your proposal last week because I understood your hesitance. I gave you time to think about it and right now it is dire I require more stocks of the T-cogs. Refuse me and I'll have to take up a more, personal counteractive measure to persuade you."

Pharma stiffens. He tries not to glance at your framed picture on his desk.

"You wouldn't want that would you?"

He narrows his optics. “I don’t know what you mean,"

Tarn shoots out an arm, wide digits curled around his neck cables before he yanks him close, clamping down, choking him. The doctor struggles, clawing at his chest.

“You’re meddling with an organic, Pharma—"Tarn croons, squeezing tighter with every disgust that laced his word. "—That is what I mean and while I prefer not to cut out the pleasantries, she will suffer from the consequences of your actions if you’re not going to concede. So, I’m going to make myself clear. Do you accept that deal or do you not?’’

Pharma tugs on his wrist to loosen the grip

“Please, anything, please, I—“ He holds up his hands placatingly, choking down his last grip of pride. "I'll do it. I'll do it! Just don't..."

Please, don’t hurt her.

"....Just don't. She's innocent. Don't bring her into this, Tarn. She's a remarkable doctor, please—"

Tarn releases his hold. Pharma drops to the ground, clutching his neck.

"I'll send you the list of requirements and a few donors willing to concede. You know where to find me when a problem arises."

Pharma is still on the ground, shaking, pressing his helm against the cold, metal floor. The footsteps disappear much like the diminishing hope in his chassis.He shouldn’t have listened, he shouldn’t have. Tarn and his sweet, sweet lies that’ were always so alluring, drawing him into the abyss.

You're in front of him. Behind was Tarn. He's got a blaster. And from the core were wisps of smoke,

THE tea cup, the one with the flowers painted across were discarded shards on the floor. Fragmented much like the reality he denies as he's wrangled behind. Arms tied. Wrists bounded. He stares, distraught.

”Ph..Pharma…” You’re confused as your palm hover overs the stain, the hole on your torso, the white a crimson red. You look down then up, expression contorted like you're asking him why. “I- I don’t understand…” You ramble and three frantic steps back you collapse, stumbling to the floor.

"What have you done....." Pharma tries to wrench away from Helex's grasp, voice rising to octaves. "Organic internal structures are weaker than a Cybertronians! This blow is fatal, do you not realize she'll die?!

Tarn steps over your body, and marches over to the jet, grabbing his face with a forceful shove. "Think again before you lecture me about those flesh-like scum. Why do you think I've chosen this method of action to condemn your actions with?"

"I couldn't get hold of the corpses in time!" He's frantic, shuffling, leaning aside to peer over the wide shoulders of Tarn. " They're not easy to get when you're a doctor every hour. I couldn't possibly kill the patients, cant I? Please, she needs medical attention, Tarn."

"And it's delayed, much like how you delayed my commodities."

"A deal is a deal. You should know better than to disrupt it."

He should've known better.

Pharma shoots out an arm, he clutches the white jacket, the sleeve, pulling the body. He ignores how heavy, how limp and lifeless you were, compared to the motning when you were just laughing, rolling around on the bed that smelt like lavender, smiling about some pointless joke you scoured from the net.

With each pull, crimson stained and scraped the concrete floor, grime collecting at the base of your body. He doesn't seem to mind. He's too tired. Much too lethargic. When he's got you in his arms, he cradles you, holding you. His digits pinch your cheeks, You’re not warm anymore. You’re cold. Just like his armour, just like the air, just like your eyes. Much like a star, it's doused. The brightness — it's gone. No longer flickering. A mass, the singular speck, gone.

“Pharma, buddy —what the hell happened?”

“Everything. Everything did.”

He cups your jaw, presses a kiss to your temple, your nose, then one last lingering kiss to your lips.

[revelboo]

Do you have any plans to write for any mtmte villians? Pharma, tyrest, the djd, overlord etc? In the mtmte rodimus fic brainstorm mentiones that there might be humans outside of the lost light as well, so i wonder if that's how you plan to write those ones (assuming you will at some point) 🤔

I do. Two little guys and one rabid dog today

L.G. Fuad

IDW Tarn x Reader

• “No,” he growls, trying to walk away from Nickel and that organic animal she has in her servos. Ignoring as best he can when she jogs after him. Megatron, give him strength to deal with this lunacy. Especially as she cuts him off and holds it up at arm’s length, it’s little head lolling forward. Out cold either from terror or the trauma of being caught by the Pet. And he knows exactly why Nickel had saved the thing, it’s even smaller than she is. “We have a pet, remember?”

• “But it’s cute and helpless. It needs us,” she protests. Helpless just means weak and weak things don’t survive. Don’t deserve to survive. Optics narrowing behind his mask, he vents tiredly. Wouldn’t it be better to leave it here to die or have let the Pet mauled it? It’s not like any of them know anything about organics, but staring down at Nickel, there’s no denying her. She’s asks for so little and does so much. Relenting, he kneels to prod at the thing with a servo and sensing victory, Nickel thrusts it into his hands. “Watch it for a second.” And she’s hurrying off leaving him with this small, pathetic thing warm in his servos.

• Wanting to demand she come back, because letting her keep this thing doesn’t mean he wants anything to do with it. But it shifts in his servos, a little hand bumping against his palm. And the skin is red and broken from the Pet. It’s honestly amazing there’s not more damage, almost like the Pet was playing not trying to kill it. Studying the little thing, it’s the similarities that nag at him, make him uncomfortable. Its little face is curiously almost Cybertronian. Similar body shape to a crude protoform, same number of fingers as his own servos. Just horribly, eerily soft and organic.

• Carrying it to a chair and sitting in the medbay, he uses the clawed tip of a servo to nudge its head. Like a Cybertronian, but not. A mockery really. Too weak and fragile to be anything like they are. Little bones under flesh that will snap with the slightest pressure. So why does he keep toying with it? Touching it to feel that strange soft give its skin has or the steady beat of its heart. It’s alien and ugly. Soft and warm. Not his problem at all and he needs to stress that to Nickel. This thing is her pet, not his. He doesn’t care if it lives or dies at all even as it curls into a ball against his servos and makes a soft, pained sound, forehead pressing against him.

Next

[michaela-o]

( sound on <33 )

I love reading dark fan-fiction about humans being abused and used by evil Cybertronians to whatever purpose they seem fit to put them into. Might be kinda weird but inspired me to do this so :3

Also im sorry for dissapearing for a while but i recently got a job and im trying to enjoy life😌❤️ but i still browse tumblr everyday i just dont have many things to post❤️ but if anyone ever needs me im always here🥹❤️

[tinydefector]

Is it too much to ask for a follow-up on the Human' Effects fic?

Prev

Next

Masterlist

This is more just some more information of headcanons I have and how I like writing the bots. So I hope you enjoy it. This one's more on the differences and similarities between humans and Cybertronians.

Word count: 2.5k

Warning: mentions of reproduction, and exploration of body's. Valveplug.

__________

So this is just a continuation for Human effects. This one also delves into some more information on biological, cultural and different frames and how they interact with each other, humans and other organic Creatures. 

Biological Humans and Cybertronians are vastly different even with quite a few similarities. 

Sparklings and children 

There is a very big difference in the body function of Humans and Cybertronians. Size for one but also Organic DNA and CNA. There are many things which can Line up with the other species but also function very differently 

Such as. 

structure and organ comparison 

Plating - skin

Helm - head

Processor, brain module - brain 

Faceplate- face

Audio Receptors, Audials, Receptor orifices - ears 

Nasal ridge, enstril, olfactory sensors- nose

Optical ridge - eyebrows

Optics, visors  - eyes and glasses sometimes visors are used as optics

Intake- mouth, throat or a breath. 

Denta, denta plating- teeth 

Glossa- tongue 

Mandibles (insecticons) - jaw 

Vocalizer- voice box 

Chin or chin plating are the same 

Chestplate, chassis- chest and higher stomach (abs area) 

Fuel tanks- stomach. 

Backplate, back struts, binary system,  bipedalism - back and spine, spinal cord. 

Servos and digits - Hands and fingers 

Sounder plating - shoulder blades 

Pede - feet 

pump and Spark - heart and soul 

Energon lines - arrays veins. 

Vents - lungs, breath. 

Pelvic plate - pelvis

Aft, tailpipe, skid plate- butt

Interface panel - covered reproduction organs

Spike - penis 

Value - vagina 

Carrier chamber, Gestation chamber - womb

Helm and head

With the fact one is filled with circuitry, coding and wires and the other is filled with flesh, fluid and other organic matter. Humans' heads are covered in hair most times. And even those who aren't their head Is still rather soft and smooth. And the bots love playing with human hair and facial hair when they are allowed too. 

It also leads to humans giving the bots head scratches, and it's something so man you the bots had never thought of and they love it. They will lay their head in their human lap and just enjoy the gentle touches to their Finial, audials, and helm crest. It becomes. Causal thing of the humans using soft little microfiber cloths to clean out dust and dirt from the small crevices in the bots Plating. Head pats and scratches really becomes something that Cybertronians love alot and it makes a lot of humans consider the bots large cats.

Faceplate and Faces. 

One of the things which is very different between humans and Cybertronians is how they show affection to each other. Cybertronians do a thing called a helm hold. Where they each hold their partner's helm in their servos while looking into each other's optics, it's how they show how much they care, because they are focusing only on that one person. And it means alot more after the war, to focus all your attention on just one bots servos shows a lot of trust, affection and love for someone.  

While humans have Hugging, kissing. So the bots are rather confused the first time they are hugged, tensing up not wanting to hurt their human. And they nearly short circuit when the human kisses them it's more out of fear. 

“Do you know how dangerous that is! What if I crushed you!” The bot hisses in panic while looking at their lover. “not to mention the fact that is my Energon Intake! Do you know what energon can do to Humans!” It nearly sends the bot into meltdowns as they hold their lover's face staring into their eyes trying to show them how much they love and care for them. It would break their spark if they accidentally hurt them. 

“it's called a Kiss, I was kissing you” the human tries to explain, their hands cupping around their bots servos. 

“a kiss?” the bot inquired. “Yea I'm sorry if you didn't want it, it's just I thought we were in that part of our relationship” the human begins rambling out of anxiety thinking they had messed up. In the end they both settle for a small gesture in-between. Pressing their head and helm, together as they cradle the other. 

Eventually they will come around to accepting kisses but it is only for very special occasions. Because the bot will make sure that there isn't a trace of energon in their system for their partner's safety. Over time it becomes them pressing soft kisses to each other's noses. 

Skin and Plating 

These are all the parts which somewhat are similar to humans, but also work vastly different than the human body does. So with this listed here are many of the things that vary with the similarities. 

Plating and skin are vastly different due to one being metal and the other being flesh, it's one of the things a lot of the Cybertronians love is how soft Human skin is. They really enjoy just fondling their human companions, pulling their checks, and enjoying how their skin moves. How pliable, warm and squishy they are. Cybertronians finding out about human breasts really takes them by storm. 

“What are those?” the bot asks while pressing a finger to their breast feeling how soft and squishy they are. 

“breast, boobs, tits they have a lot of names” 

“What are they for?” The bot continues to just slowly play with them out of curiosity, not knowing what the human would need them for. 

“they are used for feeding babies, they fill with milk, it's not a constant thing and not everyone's do but they are for feeding babies.” the human tries to explain and it just leaves the bot shocked. 

“You're with Sparkling?” The bot asked as they began fussing over the human more, gently pressing their digits to the human's body more. 

“no, no I'm not pregnant!” They laugh out loud while rather embarrassed. “‘but wouldn't they deflate?” The bot shoots back as their digits begin needing the flesh which makes the humans sigh and lean into the touch. “human babe, don't have the same functions as you.” They tease softly.

 It ends up with one bot having their human lover back pressed to their Chassis. The bot's servos just cupped around their partners breast slowly massaging them as the human leans back just enjoying the feeling because it takes the weight off their back and the cool touch of the metal feels delightful against their skin. 

Heart and spark

The difference between a human heart and spark aren't that different at all. They both pump blood/energon to where it's needed, it's the life provider of the body. Each has a beat or pulse. And the said beat and pulse sounds different. A human's heart beat feels like a thump but to Cybertronians it's an echo. Each beat they can feel and see like A beating light. And they love how it feels laying against them, their spark will actually fall in tune With their heart beat as a way to calm the human.  While for humans a Cybertronians spark pulse feels like electricity dancing across their skin it's like the build up of static but it doesn't zap. The vibration of a spark is like energy building and releasing, the buzzing sound that just resonates through their body as they lay against their bot. 

olfactory sensors and nose

Unfortunately humans don't have the enhanced scent sensors that a lot of other species do, and Cybertronians have one for the most advanced ones, they don't just smell it but they can break down the chemical compound to its base and are able to tell humans emotions based on how they smell. It also leads to bots becoming rather touching with their lovers when they can smell their cycle. It also leads a lot of bots realising they have a breeding kink after being with a human, because the moment they can feel their partners change in hormones they are hovering. It becomes an even bigger thing when they smell the scent of a young spark, they feel the EM Field. 

carriers and pregnancy 

There is a major difference between human pregnancy and cybertronian pregnancy. Humans can only be born from reproduction.  a new spark can be formed in multiple ways. 

-Forged.  

-Cold construct. 

-split spark

- Sparked 

Forged new sparks are bots that are formed in hotspots across cybertron and on occasions sparklings can also be formed from these hot spots. 

Cold constructs are bots that have been made by others for a purpose and were originally classed as 2nd class citizens, miners or lower than other bots, 

Split Sparks made from splitting your spark into another form. It was very rare due to multiple laws being inplace against it. 

Sparklings were formed through spark merging with another and creating enough energy to form new lifeforms. A carrier would then have to host said spark in their Gestation chamber until the spark could grow its own protoform. Then from there they are moved into the carrier chamber where they learn off their carrier's coding, and also receive food, coding and personal information from their Sire via Transfluid. As sparklings are still not able to consume normal energon and it has to be processed down enough for the sparkling. (Similar to how humans breastfeed) from there once they are ready the sparkling will be ‘birthed’ and from their they will need to be carried in a spark chamber until they have fully developed but gives them time to learn the world around them but still have the safety of a parent to protect them. 

This leads the bots and humans to both be horrified at the differences of the others' reproduction. The bots are horrified over the fact a human's pelvis bone breaks just to birth a baby. But also the fact that humans can carry more than one child. They eventually watch a documentary over human birth; it makes a lot of bots short out and crash. 

Humans on the other hand are shocked over the time it takes for a bot to have a sparkling. 100 years is longer than a lot of humans ever live but it's how long it takes for the full process of a sparkling to be formed and born. That's without all the issues with CNA, temperature, spark energy, energon. A Lot of Cybertronian pregnancies don't make it to term due to these factors. 

So when by some chance a human gets pregnant by a Cybertronian it has the whole planet up in a tissy. Not just the fact of how genetically different they are but how it happened. The first human Cybertronian sparkling is a miracle watched by man and documented. And it turns out the human womb is actually the best possible hosting spot for the start of a sparkling, it's the perfect temperature, and it's not a temperature a lot of bots can keep their own frames. The human womb actually short cuts a lot of time over the birth Due to the sparkling Not needing to be shifted from one chamber to another. It comes down to being pregnant for 3 years. It's a long time for a human but it's decades Less than what it normally takes for a Cybertronian if they made it through the full progress. 

And when the sparkling is born it's discovered that the sparkling doesn't have any human traits, defects or appearance. Due to the human body mainly working as a host, the CNA and DNA don't mix when it comes to creating a sparkling but they work perfectly in sync When it comes to helping the sparkling grow. And it also turns out humans are able to sustain more than One sparkling. 

That also brings me to the function of spike and Valves. For Cybertronians spikes and Valves aren't how Sparklings are created, sparklings are created from two sparks merging together and creating enough energy for a sparkling but interface is needed to start the process of how they form. Sparkling needs Transfluid to begin and that is what Cybertronians use interfacing for outside of sharing memories, information and emotions. Most times Cybertronians interface for fun, feeling close, sharing information with a loved one, or to help feed a sparkling the necessary data, fluids and programming. 

so When a Cybertronian and human interface it has a lovely mix of a 50/ 50 chance of getting pregnant due to how the human and cybertronian heart and spark link in a frequency that is almost essential Spark merging. And a human doesn't even need to interface with a Cybertronian to get pregnant.

Here is a list of ways humans have gotten pregnant/ a bot has gotten pregnant. 

-interfacing 

-spark bonding 

-a human touching a bots spark. 

-having enough hated for another you get them pregnant by sheer Anger

- spark And heart syncing 

-A human being on their cycle will make a bot pregnant. 

______________

Megatron entered the medbay of the Lost Light, feeling unusual warmth and pressure in his chest. "Ratchet," he said gruffly to get the medic's attention. "Something is...off. I feel as if I have consumed fool's energon again, but I know that is not the case." 

He looked down at the medic, his optics betraying slight concern beneath his usual stern demeanour. "Examine me and determine what ails me. I need to be at full function." His pride did not allow him to admit weakness easily, but he trusted Ratchet's skills. 

Ratchet nodded to First Aid and They as they stood ready to assist. He turned back to Megatron with a scrutinising gaze.

"When did you first notice the symptoms? Any other anomalies in your systems?" he asked gruffly, scanning the Decepticon warlord from head to foot with a diagnostic tool. The scans showed unusual activity in Megatron's Gestation chamber.

"Hmm...it appears your spark is pulsing more rapidly than normal. And the pressure you described suggests a buildup of energon flow." Ratchet paused, analysing the data. "This could indicate...no, it's not possible. Or is it...?" He leaned in closer, inspecting Megatron with keen optics.

"We'll need a more detailed scan. Over here, lay back - this won't hurt but may feel peculiar. First Aid, fire up the resonator. Ambulon you're in charge of monitoring vitals."

"What's wrong, ratchet he was fine this morning?" The human asked in concern. 

Megatron lay back on the medical berth as directed, his massive frame dwarfing its size. his expression softened ever so slightly. As the detailed spark scan began, Ratchet's optics widened in surprise. "By the Allspark...it can't be..." He motioned First Aid "Look here. What do you see?"

First Aid peered at the monitor in amazement. "Two distinct spark pulses...but how is that possible?" Ratchet glanced over at Megatron, then back at the others. "It would seem Megatron himself is carrying sparkling. The increased energon flow and pressure were signs of protoform development beginning."

He chuckled wryly. "Well Megatron, it seems that fool's energon was not to blame after all. Congratulations...you're going to be a creator." Megatron's optics widened in disbelief at Ratchet's announcement. Carrying sparkling? It made no sense as far as he knew, spark merging could only occur between cybertronians and he had only been intimate with a human. 

He sat up abruptly, almost knocking First Aid over, and glared down at Ratchet. "Explain yourself, medic! How is this possible? The human and I have been intimate but they clearly lack our means of conception." Ratchet held up a calming hand. "Peace, Megatron. I have a theory," 

Taglist: @angelxcvxc

@ladyofnegativity

[loveofbots]

Sfw and nsfw head cannons for tarn please? Reader or cannon don't really care.

Shoutout @starscreamscorpse for calling beloved Tarn ‘mista taint’

I (lovingly) hate tarn so please take this with a grain of salt

SFW:

- Tarn is a loner in all senses of the word. He doesn’t ask for help, not even Nickel. He trusted people before and that led to his empurata, and then his abandonment from the academy, now he simply directs his team without confiding in anyone except Decepticon high command.

- To tarn, being a Decepticon is a belief. I know we joke about him dick riding megatron (he does) but the Decepticon cause gave him purpose. It gave him someone to believe in, a support system even.

- Advocate for universal healthcare, most likely due to Nickel’s influence.

- Tarn actually likes to sing. Even as Damos! I imagine he sings by himself most days, and actually writes his own music. In his perfect world, maybe he’d be a prodigy and launch Cybertron into an age of art. But of course, his story is one of tragedy.

- Tarn is harsh on the DJD. He may be friendly but he has a short temper, and will easily snap at people he considers his ‘friends.’ He’s also highly critical, as we know he started putting Decepticons on the list for increasingly petty reasons near the end of it.

- He’s probably not as grossed out by us squishies as he tells himself. Although he agrees that transformers are better- he would begrudgingly ‘keep the fleshling alive’ if he was instructed to. Because his singing does not affect humans the same way it affects his own race, he would probably grow very fond of singing to them.

- Tarn’s the type to be creepy at first, but he’s just a lonely, hurt Mech on the inside. He takes advantage of other folks like Pharma to fuel his addiction, a gentle hand would help him by light years. Yet he pushes away (and kills) anyone who tries to help. Citing that they are trying to ‘cleanse him.’ Dumbass.

[NO MINOR ZONE]

- His only lover is his hand. I’m serious he gets NO bitches. Every time someone came on to him he would fumble like a dink. Helix is still trying to give him better pickup lines than ‘I won’t kill you… tonight.’

- For me Tarn is on the ace spectrum. He doesn’t want to participate in interfacing, but he likes to watch. You could probably find him in the corner at some swinger parties.

- Normally he doesn’t have time/is too tired to even try to get off. He runs the DJD he’s a busy Mech. Not to say he doesn’t have his own little fantasies.

- Top all the way. He WILL NOT bottom (unless you ask) Tarn likes to feel in charge, superior, loved. He likes to be serviced and he likes the idea of ‘capturing’ someone and making them obey his every word.

- is actually a super awkward bot. His old self- Damos- comes out when he is flirted with. He’s a bashful Mech that can’t take any praise.

- Likes the idea of his partner getting off to his voice, it makes him feel powerful that his voice alone could make someone so down bad (I am looking at you tarn fans)

- cw: drugs!!! He is the WORST person to give a doobie to, this mf takes one hit if a roach and is coughing all night. On another note, he probably does take medicine to help him sleep thanks to mama nickel.

[liaswritesrobots]

Inspired by @montyuh's asks about terrible soulmates.

"Check his arm." Tarn commanded Vos.

Vos shook his head after examining the mech's arm.

Still no luck. Though he supposed that was a good thing, since he didn't want to be the sparkmate of a dead mech. Still, it's been centuries and he still hasn't found anyone with the name that was written across his arm and he hasn't found anyone with his name on theirs.

He sometimes imagines what kind of bot they are, to have such a strange name for a cybertronian- perhaps they weren't born on Cybertron and instead are a part of a colony off world. He wonders if they're a Decepticon. He hopes they're a Decepticon... or at least a neutral that could be easily swayed into joining the Decepticons. He wonders what colors they've decorated their frame with. And what color their optics are. And if they like music. He hopes they like music. He could sing for them.

He thinks about them far too much some would say. Obsessively checking every bot they off to make sure they aren't the one. Not that he's opposed to murdering his sparkmate if they're an Autobot or defector, but he can't help but feel a tinge of sadness at the thought of the bot made solely for him being his enemy.

He wants to know the euphoria of having his other half by his side. Someone to hold him on those long, lonely nights aboard The Peaceful Tyranny. Someone to protect. To conquer. To playfully tease in the privacy of his habsuit. Someone that loves him.

He sighs, turning to leave the room. Ever since they boarded this Primus awful ship crawling with Autobots he's had this... feeling... that the one he's supposed to meet is here. He wonders if there's a chance they're locked in the holding cells. Some Decepticon prisoner that wandered into these fools' path and found themselves at their mercy.

That wouldn't be so bad. Then he could free them himself. They'd be completely indebted to him then. They'd have no choice but to be by his side and-

He stops in his tracks noticing you standing there with a blaster aimed at him.

Human.

These Autobots and their love for organics... it's disgusting! Letting one of you live amongst them. Disgraceful. What a pathetic little thing, trembling at the sight of him despite your fighting stance. Your little arms can barely hold that blaster up and they're shaking too bad for you to even get a clear sh-

Hold on...

He squints, examining your trembling arms. They're shakey but he swears- he swears he can see the word "Damus" on it. His eyes grow wide and with a swift step he snatches you off the ground causing you to drop your blaster. You scream and struggle and try to hit his hand to make him let go of you but he brings you to his face to examine you.

He raises his other hand and between two digits, violently stretches your arm out causing you to cry out in pain.

Damus

And it looks like the word "Glitch" is faded behind it.

"No." He whispers. "No. No. No! No! NO! NO! NO!" Each no getting louder an more desperate as his grip starts to tighten around you. You manage to yank your arm free from his grip and try to pull yourself up out of his hand.

"Human, what is your name?" His eyes narrow.

"Like I'd tell you!"

Defiance. Even in the face of danger, even within his grasp that could easily end your life you refuse his simple request. He tightens his grip again, causing a sharp pain in you as you gasp and huff for air, "Tell me!" He demands through gritted teeth.

You comply this time and his grip not only loosens, he nearly drops you as he falls to his knees.

This is joke. This has to be. A cruel prank by Primus! There's no way his sparkmate is organic! This is a mistake! You can't be the one that is supposed to love him no matter what. You can't be the one he's wanted to hold and cherish for so long. You can't be the one he's been waiting for all of his life. You can't! You can't!

"Tarn?"

The sound of Tesarus' voice down the hall snaps him back into the moment. He stares down at you trying to pry yourself from his hand so you can escape. He closes his fist around you once more and opens his chest, placing you inside. He uses the wall to help himself back up.

"You ok?" Tess asks, running up beside the mech.

"Yes. I just... I think I need to go outside for a moment. I'll be back soon." Tarn turns away and staggers down the other end of the hall towards an exit

"You want us to put the party on hold for you?"

"No. Kill everyone you find. Do not leave even one spark intact." Tarn reponds.

He just has to clear his head. Some fresh air will do the ventilators good. He'll figure out what to do with you once he can think straight again.