#tfp x mech reader

[uselessmicrowave]

kinktober day two

tfp starscream x reader

tws/content- biting, blood, slight size kink, marking, aftercare, teasing, predacon reader

“Is- s’ it okay if I-” you slow the pace so it’s easier to form words.

“Yes! Frag, bite me already!” Starscream shoves your helm closer to his neck cables. So you give him what he wants. The force in which you bite down makes your denta ache. You can feel the vibrations of his vocalizer, whining and moaning and telling you to go faster, bite him harder.

You were made to serve, what else would you have done? Growling, you put your servos around his hips, squeezing his waist tightly or scratching around his array whenever you wanted.

Starscream’s optics widen when you pull away from his neck cables, you move downwards on his frame, biting his collar guard. The crunching sound of his plating is exquisite.

You bite his shoulder, not letting your grasp slip until you’ve tasted energon. You eagerly lick at the lovingly inflicted wound, causing him to helplessly whine. He sounds pathetic, which, oddly enough, adds to your arousal.

You carefully take his wing in one of your servos, rubbing at the tip and moving upwards, closer to his delicate wings. Starscream lets out a worried whine, his wing twitches away from your faceplates and servo.

“I’ll be careful, I promise.” he nods, giving you permission. You gently press your glossa against the ridge of the wing, then ever so carefully putting pressure on his wingtip with your denta. When you pull back, the softest indentation of your denta was imprinted on his wing. It isn’t very noticeable, but that too, added to the increasing amount of arousal. Seeing the slight dents in his wing, it made you proud, made you feel like he’s yours. Only for you.

A staticky screech comes from him as he overloads. These feelings, physical and emotional, make you overload as well. You close your optics as a wave of sharp relief washes over your frame. When you open your optics back up…

His plating… well, let’s just say it looks far from brand new. It’s covered in dents and energon. When Starscream looks down to see the damage you left, he looks surprised. He glares at you, still catching his vents.

“Don’t complain, that’s exactly what you wanted.” Starscream sighs, knowing that you’re right. Both of your panels snap shut.

“We should probably go see Knockout… I’ll carry you.” you scoop him up into your strong arms, trying to be gentle. His frame relaxes in your hold, he purrs and becomes a big pile of lazy affections, reaching up to kiss your face and asking for your servo as you start the short trip to the medbay.

“So, Screamer, what did you do this time, ask them to bite you?” Knockout laughs and turns away from the two of you to fetch medical supplies.

You have to stifle a laugh, Starscream weakly and playfully punches your arm from his place on the medical berth in an effort to keep your intake shut.

Knockout comes back to the two of you and starts to lay out his tools. “I don’t endorse this, you know,” he says, pointing a digit at you. “I’m just glad I’m not patching Star up from The Big M.”

You stay at the seeker’s side protectively, giving him your servo to squeeze.

[stickytrigger69]

tfp dom Airachnid x sub mech reader, bondage and masochism/sadism

TFP Dom Airachinid x Sub Mech Cybertronian Reader

NSFW minors DNI!!!

Mech reader

Use of he/him pronouns

Sadist Airachnid, Masochist Male Reader

BDSM Elements!!

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Your lover has left you all alone, bound, and on the hard floor. Servos behind you, pedes under you, and mouth coated beautifully in the webs spun by your dearest lover. Though you're mildly uncomfortable, you can't help the excitement racing through your spark. Just thinking of those fine pointed pedes and slim black legs leading up to perfect hips and chest plate makes you giddy, and your spike pressurize just enough to make you dizzy with lust. Airachnids slim but curved frame is one you could recognize while blind folded. Her fine, glossy lips hiding the cutest fangs make your throat dry. The poison laced on those lips, you're going mad.

And how she's bragged about you, her own pride and joy embodied in the frame of her favorite mech. You were made for her, the well of sparks, and Primus worked together to take one spark and split it in half and mold the perfect frames to match. You're hers, and she's yours equally. What's she doing that's taking so long. You miss her, miss her frame, miss her valve, the way it drips with want as she bites and claws at you. Shocks and smacks, hisses in your audials as she takes you apart. You start shaking, spike pressurizing by the second. Shouldn't have let your thoughts go astray, but you can't help it. The promise of reward causes you to act as though you are insatiable in your want.

You groan out loud in frustration, in need. When she comes back, you're gonna....

"Darling?" The door whooshes open and in steps your queen. Her purple optics glow devilishly. Any strong thoughts you had of being dominant are thrown to the wind. Your spike throbs underneath your array, and a small groan leaves you. 'Please,' you think to yourself, 'please use me, I'm your little toy.' She smirks at your pitiful state, lubricant leaks out from the seams of your array panel. She stalks forward, heels clacking painfully on the steel floor. You vibrate with anxiety.

Your helm points upwards as she stands before you, long, thick legs, slim waist, large chassis, curved derma, angled optics. You choke on a ball of thick lubricant, olfactory on overdrive as the sight of her teases your senses. 'Primus, forgive me for the sin I am about to commit.' You pray, knowing the vile things she will do to you and make you do. She releases your legs from their confines on the hard ground and spins you a small collar and leash from her silky web. She tugs and pulls, forcing you to your pedes. "Come on! Faster! That's it, 'atta boy." She praises as you stand to tower over her. Your fans whirl and hum warmly, "Come." She commands as she turns a heel towards the berth. You follow stiffly, joints locking from sitting for so long, but fast enough to still be a good boy.

She sits on the edge of the berth and immediately tugs down to have you on your knees again. She holds the sides of your face in her dainty servos, observing the heat coming from your cheeks, then slowly starts peeling the web from your derma. A taunting swipe of her glossa leaves you whining, "Now, now, this is supposed to be a reward, not a punishment. Be good. Be patient." She whispers. She smiles sweetly as her array panel swipes away, valve dripping and glossy. Immediately, you try licking it up. She slaps your face away hard, making you groan in painful pleasure. "Patience, you're my good boy, right?" You nod slowly, vents increasingly getting hotter.

"Please." You whimper, your array slips away, spike bobbing out and leaking, "Oh please." Her smile widens.

"So cute when you beg, sweetspark." She tugs at a wire in the back of your neck to turn your face up so she can bite into the sensitive cords on the side.

"Ahhh" you moan, spike twitching.

"Going to overload already, my love?" She teases.

"Please." You whine again. Giving her a pleading look, optics look so big with want. She only chuckles before grabbing hold of the leash once again and scooting up, heels locking into the edge of your shared berth. Knees spread wide, exposing her perfect valve with an inviting look on her faceplate. She tugs once, and you dive right in. Kissing, licking, and sucking on her sweet, lubricated valve, the taste of her making you groan as she moans, closing her optics softly. Your glossa flicks over and circles around her node, making her jerk her hips.

"Oh, my good boy, mmm, just like that." She takes hold of your helm and keeps you in place. You nibble slightly at her node, and she pulls you off to slap you again. "No." She says sternly and pushes your derma to her valve again. You just look up at her for a moment before nibbling again. "I said no." She forces you back and stands up over you, grabbing your face forcefully making you whine. Her servo grasps your neck as she pulls you up to stand before her. You look down at her, wanting more pain for the rest of the pleasure, and she can see that.

"I see, then, should have said something, baby boy." She turns you around to sit on the berth, servos still around your throat as she kisses you, grip tightening and other servo trailing down to jerk at your spike. A painful tug jolts through your spine to your processor and is followed by tender touches as she jerks your spike, rubbing the tip, smearing the lubricants around as she bites your derma, drawing energon. You moan deeply as her claws dig into your neck, touching and scraping at sensitive nodes and wires.

With a moan, she pulls away to look at your pretty face, energon leaking from your derma, dribbling down your sharp chin and onto your strong chassis. "You really are gorgeous, sweetspark." She praises her favorite toy. She looks down to stare at your spike in her small servo and feels heat pool in her gestation chamber, "mmmm, such a fragging unit." She groans deeply, sounding predatory. "Servos." She demands, so you rip them from their confines, webs dangle from your wrist joints and forearms, the off-white contrasts your paint job. She loves seeing it, and marking you makes her swell with pride. A servo goes to your chassis, the other firmly at the base of your spike, and scratches a deep mark into the strong metal, pulling a growl from you. "Pick me up, good boy." Your larger servos wrap gently around her waist to lift her from the ground with ease. Her legs spread wide, and you pull her close, valve aligned with your spike.

Slowly, you begin to lose your patience as she licks and kisses at your bite wounds. She hums happily and then bites down hard on your neck as she slams her hips down, spike plunging deep into her tight valve. You moan loudly and overload into your beloved spider. She feels hot lubricant jet into her and immediately starts bouncing onto your hard spike, moaning and whining with each fall of her hips. The tip of your spike pokes and prods at her gestation chamber, making her bite harder onto your neck. She pulls away and pushes you down her pedes flat on the berth as she straddles you, wrapping her servos around your neck as she rides you, keeping the air from circulating through your ventilation systems. You feel as though your spark has been destroyed, processor being flooded with too many senses, her smell, the pain, the pleasure.

You can feel how tight her valve is, how hard it squeezes around your spike, and how warm and wet she is. Subconsciously, your servos squeeze around her waist tighter and tighter as you take the wheel and push and pull at your pace. She gives you a second to breathe to take your servos into hers instead, then traps them above your head in more webs. She does the same on your legs and midsection, successfully trapping you to the berth. She steps up and off of your leaking spike, making you whine and groan disappointedly. She gives you a small scratch on the side of your faceplate while she moves to grasp it, making you writhe in your place.

A heel moves up next to your helm as she stretches across your larger frame. "I don't know whether to treat you or punish you." She coos then sucks through her denta, "I rrreally want to just punish you for nibbling on my node earlier, but you have been such a good boy." Her optics soften, your silvery face so blue and hot, your optics droop, you're exhausted from the teasing, overload, and all the waiting.

She hums softly and then makes her decision. She spins around to put her valve in your face and takes your large spike in her servos. First, she licks and kisses at the head and shaft while pushing her hips down on your face, your glossa sticking out to provide friction for her to grind down on. She takes your spike into her intake slowly at first, then starts ramping up in speed, sucking hard as she lifts her helm upward. Her goal is to suck your soul from your spark, and she'll be damned if she doesn't. She wants a taste of that sweet lubricant as you eat it from her valve.

Your processor has gone numb and optics blurry. You've been waiting so long for this, and now you're hardly conscious as you lap up your mixed juices. You don't realize until she gets oof of you that you've overloaded once more from her intake. "Mmmmmm, my good boy tastes delicious." She wipes at her derma to lean forward and kiss you. "But I haven't overloaded yet, so I hope that you have more to give, baby." She rubs your sensitive spike tantalizingly slow.

"Oh, please, I can't..." You beg.

"Tut tut my sweetspark, you'll be okay." She bites you again, injecting you with a special serum she came across on another planet. She loves using this stuff on you and how it changes your optics to a pretty pink color. And how hard it makes your spike. Suddenly invigorated, you sit up a little and smirk at her. You thrust forward a bit, spike rubbing against her node, making her gasp.

"Use me up, baby. He's still standing at attention, I need you." You pull her into a deep kiss, lifting her up and pushing her down onto your sensitive spike. "I want to feel you wrapped around my spike for cycles after this, even if you're not there. Break me." Your last comment makes her smile. She's going to spin you up in her net and use you for as long as she wants,

"Are you sure you're alright?" Knockout asks.

"Fine, thanks." You walk out of the medibay admiring new scars she left. You can still feel her, her claws, valve, chassis, spark. A shiver runs down your spine as you recall that night. "Can't wait till she breaks me again." You whisper to yourself as you walk past Breakdown who only makes a sour face, not that you saw. Otherwise, you'd ask what his problem was.

"-but his energon that night was so sweet." Airachinid finishes hee long droning as she presses a key or two into the computer in the main hull of the Nemesis. "I can't wait to break him again. I can still feel his spike throbbing and filling me up." She starts exciting herself. "I think I just might right now." She turns to walk down the halls to find her sparkmate.

[dragonridernoobie]

Okay, This is kinda in the realm of angst and horror since I live that kind of thing so since Raf have a large family, imagine he have an older sister who is the black sheep of the family but look out for him even support him with his love fr science as she gifted him the best text book she can afford for him but one day she just left home leaving his final gift and note saying she is sorry and couldn't take it anymore as all the fight she have with their parents is not good for her mind and don't blame their parents as she explain that she have her own demons and hopefully one-day he'll understand why she leaves

She left and joined the military, but something happened on a mission that went wrong that she had been tested by MECH with dark energon, and basically she a corrupted human with ability that similar to Unicron then rescue by the Autobot when she mids of a vengeful rampage then in a middle of a mental break down

( I'm not good at explaining things )

Be emotional when both siblings reunited, but she sees her nothing but a monster, telling Raf to stay away from her as she didn't want to hurt him but he just hugs her they both reunited and is very emotional to see

Hmmm, I've done horror and angst before, but never like this. I tried my best since there was part you dident say that I kinda just took over. For example, you never said this was an autobot request or a raph reqest so, I'm going raph to make it more emotional. I really hope you like it, and I might have a tad bit of fun making this XD

TFP Raphael X Mutated Sister

9 years...it's been 9 years since Raphaels sister left. Raphael misses them so much. They always remember his birthday. He still got the last gift he got from them. A textbook about coding. He loved it since it tought him everything he knows now.

Though, after they left, he hated how his family reacted. They acted so happy and actally forgot about (Y/N). He hated his family except his mother. They still remmber his sister and misses them to.

All he knows about them from searching online is that they went into the army. He dosent believe they died since his mother would have been told if they did die.

All he can hope is that they did not die and aren't suffering. If they where here now, he would show them Bumblebee, the autobots, and his new friends.

He knew, he just knew that they would have stars in their eyes from how awsome it would be to see living alien robots.

For now though, he had to wait for them to show themselves.

Currently, he was with Bumblebee and the team. Everyone has been on edge and there has been no action from the decpticons or MECH.

So, they decided to go to a forest in the amazon where a gaint Lake was. The autobots would be able to transform without being seen, and kids could play in the water.

It was going well for a few hours intel there was an explosion near by. The autobots obviously go check out what it was and they find MECH.

Well, it's more of a destroyed MECH building. There were MECH gaurds shooting at a human who was throwing MECH vehicles at them.

Raphael noticed who it was right away. It was (Y/N)!!!

But they looked diffrent...they looked more angry, sad, in pain, and diffrent.

They had purple vains across their arms, legs, and face. They clearly had super strength to. They where destroying and killing MECH guards.

The autobots jump in and take out the rest of the MECH gaurds. When done, they try to help (Y/N) but they attack them to.

It takes ratchet, bulkhead, and optimus to hold them down. Ratchrt scanned them and announced that they are filled with Dark energon.

They immediately take (Y/N) back to base to help them. No matter what. Especially now they know this is Raphaels' lost sister.

Raphael watches them put his sister in a container.

He sees how she is in pain to.

She was crying purple tears from the pain she was in but was such in blind rage that she couldn't tell that he was standing right in front of her.

Ratchet comes up with a plan to heal (Y/N), but the success rate is extremely low since this was just theory but the best they got.

So Raphael watches them start the plan and hook the canister that (Y/N) is in, ontop a machine.

He watches them start it up and inject clean energon into it.

(Y/N)'s screams echos through the base.

They beg, cry, and scream for it to stop but they have to keep going.

Eventually, when all the dark energon is gone from their body, they turn it off.

They open the canister and get (Y/N) out.

There, lays an unconscious (Y/N)

Ratchet scans them and says they are alive but need to go to the hospital since their body won't be able to survive without assistance from machines.

So, the next 4 months is Raphael sitting next to (Y/N)'s bed in the hospital, reading them books, talking to them, and telling them about the adventures they went on.

(Y/N) would eventually wake up and welcome Raphael to a hug.

Once they where healthy enough to leave the hospital, off to the autobot base.

Raphael was right.

They did get star eyes from meeting them.

He doesn't want to lose his sister again.

I hope you enjoyed this! I tried by best with one hand so I hope you like it!!!!

[mlm-writer]

Ease My Mind (Smokescreen x Mech Reader)

Pairing: TFP Smokescreen x Mech/Male Reader (trans-friendly) Rating: Explicit (?)  Words: 680 POV: Third Summary: Smokescreen is suffering under the pressure of Optimus’ legacy and there is only one mech who can ease his mind. Notes: For the prompt ‘robotfucking’. See my kinktober 2022 masterlist here. Reader is referred to with he/him, but there is no spike or whatever here. Tags: sparkplay, angst and fluff and smut

Even a power down did not stop his processors from simulating unnecessary hypotheticals. Smokescreen watched the sun slowly illuminate Cybertron, his home, once more. It had gotten so lively in the past months and as a member of team Prime, most of those new sparks would look to him for guidance and direction. It was a burden larger than his younger self ever could have imagined. It was a burden he was unsure his present self could shoulder.

From the darkness of the rest of his room, emerged a young bot. He wrapped his arms around Smokescreen’s chassis and pressed the side of his helm against Smokescreen’s. “It is a stunning sight, isn’t it?” He spoke, his voice muted to match the quiet in the room, but even at this low volume, the bot’s voice penetrated through the static noise in Smokescreen’s processors.

“It is,” Smokescreen agreed readily. Pulled from his thoughts, he had little more to say at the moment. The blue-yellow bot did not move as his sparkmate settled himself in his lap. Cuddled up together, they watched the day cycle break in. 

“I spoke to Bulkhead the other day. Construction is going splendidly. Gearblast spoke of opening an energon bar with music and a monthly talent show. I am pretty sure he came up with the idea to show off how many Earth songs he knows…” 

Smokescreen shut down his optics, focussing on the input from his audials. The other bot’s voice calmed his every thought, the words irrelevant. Once his cables were no longer taut, the bot in his lap ceased his idle chatter. “There we go, relax, my dear. You don’t have to carry the weight of a civilisation on your own.” 

Smokescreen brought his optics back online, the sight before him a masterpiece from Primus himself. There was no need to be perfect around his sparkmate. He felt like a mess sometimes, stuck between his own youth and veteranism. It left him in pieces he did not quite know how to put together. However, his sparkmate knew exactly how. 

Right now the other’s servo was resting on his chassis, right above his spark. Questioning optics met Smokescreen’s own. He smiled and gave a nod, before opening his chassis. His spark was bared to the world, but only to be seen by his sparkmate, who also exposed his spark. Their sparks casted a blue hue upon their faces as they reached out, the energy intertwining. 

A mutual gasp filled the silence, when the tendrils of pure energy met each other. Smokescreen threw his head back, as the feedback ran along his fuel lines, electricity running between him and his sparkmate. “I can’t believe I ever went without this,” Smokescreen shuddered. His processors were wiped clean of worries, making place for pure pleasure. A wanton moan left him, making him lose trust in his vocal box. Whatever was going to come out of it from here on, he had no control over it. 

His sparkmate knew it and sent another wave of pleasure with his spark. They both cursed as the energy between them flourished, slowly working towards a peak. The feedback loop allowed them to feel each other’s pleasure and amplify it. “I’m going to overload soon. Join me,” Smokescreen’s sparkmate shuddered. The veteran did not need to be told twice. 

“Yes, yes, please,” he whimpered as he felt a familiar pleasure coiling up in his frame. His voice glitched, as he was hurled towards his climax. Static filled the moans echoing through the room. 

The sparkmates held onto each other as their overload crashed over them, the energy between them dissipating and lightening up the room in a blue hue of their combined sparks. They slumped against each other, vents whirring loudly and electricity still dancing over their cables. “Are you ok, Smokey?” 

Smokescreen hummed and closed his chassis. His sparkmate did the same and Smokescreen pressed his faceplates against his neck cables. “Thank you. You always know how to ease my mind.” 

His sparkmate caressed his helm. “And I love doing it too.” 

[call-me-blip]

Y'all so I may have or may have not been extremely ill today and just decided to stay in bed and right chapter 2 and 3 of etherea (Optimus x reader)l.....yeah I totally didn't do that at all because I'm a responsible madame who has school work and responsibilities....

Chapter 2 will be uploaded tonight or tomorrow after I fix a couple of things. Chapter 3 will be later on early this coming week

[cyberrose2001]

Hi hi! Your op drawings are so good?? My bby aaa drawing him (bots in gen) is so tough, I get too caught up in the details TT

Anyway, since I miss him lol I was wondering if I could request some... uh, gosh I hate this word but idk anything synonymous. Could I request pussydrunk tfp op?

Hope you're having a nice day/night btw <3

- 🍄

TFP pussydrunk!Optimus x reader

Hi hello!!I am very proud of this and it's probably up there with my list of my favourite fics I have ever written. Thank you so much for requesting and liking my silly sketches of the blorbo. I've written this as gender neutral <3

(lowkey ive been writing heaps of OP eating pussy,,, its a canon event for me i cannot intervene..... anyway its 11AM and i havent slept yet but i needed to finish hggggh *dies of horny*)

Warnings: Oral sex (reader receiving), edging, reader has a vagina.

Word count: 657

18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI

Spending time alone with you has learned to be one of Optimus' most treasured past times. But as much as it pains him, relaxing with you is a rare treat. The usual business of the base either keeps him up all night, or he genuinely has no time. However, he tries his best to make the most of it, whether he's relaxing with you, cuddling you, or with his head glued between your inner thighs. 

Like right now. It was nearing two AM. Optimus has you sprawled out on your shared berth, his face pressed against your aching heat, finally finding sweet relief from his built-up arousal. It's been too fragging long since his face was buried in you. He misses it, and if Optimus had a choice, he would sacrifice everything he's worked for to keep you bare before him.

Two hours. Optimus had been lazily lapping at you for two hours now. At one point, his helm had lulled to the side to rest against your right inner thigh to not strain his neck. His glossa grows tired, and his energon roars through his hot frame.

His stamina is almost depleted compared to when he initially delved into your drenched pussy. Despite this, Optimus still has the capacity to tightly grip your hips, gently massaging them as you lie still for him. He is weary, yet he perseveres, ignoring his aching joints and pulsing spike painfully pressed against the berth because tonight is about you. He will make up for all those lonely nights you've spent in berth alone in one lengthy oral session.

It's very often that when Optimus gives you oral, his mind feels like he's been transported to a higher plane of existence, one where he has no responsibilities or obligations to lead a team, just the mind-numbing taste of you. It makes him dizzy and light-headed, similar to the buzz he gets when he has a high grade or two, but Optimus prefers revelling in you instead to get his high. 

As ever patient as you are with your star-crossed lover, your hips still gently roll and shudder involuntarily against his glossa, and Optimus fucking loves it. He loves your soft cries when he sucks on your clit, and he loves when you clamp your legs around his helm when your orgasm is merely within reach. But he won't let you finish just yet, not when he's yet to relish and thoroughly drown himself in your sticky sweet.  

His warm optics remain lazily trained on your face, only fluttering close when you squeeze his helm. The pressure from your thighs only heightens his hunger, a carnal desire to swallow every drop of your aphrodisiac juices. 

"Mmmmm," You mewl, sweaty palms digging into the berth, "Fuck, I missed this… why don't we do this - aah - more often, baby…."

Optimus doesn't respond, and he can't because his processor is so intoxicated and aroused that he can't even form a single coherent sentence. It's quite ironic, he thinks. A mech of his nature that is so poised and articulate in his vocable is conned by his own desperate need to surrender his intake to his humans' essence.

"Mmmffh," He purrs into your heat, parting your sensitive lips with his glossa, lazily swirling around your bud before pressing a gentle kiss against it. He can't help but grind his spike into the berth below at your whimpers, servos kneading into your soft flesh, "More… Primus, I need more…."

You titter breathlessly, snaking a hand to the top of his helm to lightly press his face further into your pulsing heat, and Optimus delightfully grunts. You shiver, biting back a moan at the vibrations, "Go ahead, hun, you've got me for the rest of the night."

Optimus may need to blow a hole into the sun to prevent it from rising, since one night will never be enough to satisfy his thirst for you.

[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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[emelinstriker]

May you share your TFP Decepticon headcanons 👁️👁️

If you want specifics, then their domestic lives? (Or what one can achieve akin to a domestic life in time of war 💀)

I did NOT expect to see any ask regarding TFP- Or at least till I switch fandoms again- So like I can't really think of many X Reader headcanons right now. So I just wrote down like 3 for each. I'm also not quite sure how to condense domestic points, cuz I suck at general fluff when my hyperfixation is elsewhere- So sorry if these don't feel like they're really in the domestic direction fhgnfhg

Only doing some Decepticons though-

☆ ~ Headcanons ~ ☆

☆ Megatron

He do be a busy mech, so he doesn't have too much time on his servos. Therefore he cherishes it whenever he gets to have private moments with just his human and no interruptions.

Likes to carry you around on his shoulder pad- It just generally makes it safer for you, in his opinion, and more comforting for him.

Any that would merely look at you weirdly would face the wrath of Lord Megatron. You can tell him not to punish the other Cybertronian though. He does listen... sometimes.

☆ Starscream

Mans refusing to show affection towards you around other Decepticons, especially Megatron. But he's just melting around you when in private.

He prefers recharging with you lying on him. It's oddly soothing having his human on his chassis.

Tends to look for you as comfort whenever he had a bad day with Megatron.

☆ Soundwave

Despite the amount of work he does and how busy he is, he doesn't really fail at also paying attention to you. He's truly a multi-tasker.

Would let Laserbeak play with you though if his extra appendages and music can't keep you busy.

Very loving towards his human. He may not talk, but he uses emoticons on his visor to display how much he loves you.

☆ Shockwave

Just don't play with whatever materials he needs to conduct his experiments and you're good to go. Play with his antennae and ear fins while on his shoulder pad instead.

He gets easily distracted by his human. He knows it's illogical with the major size difference, and how he should just be able to ignore you. But he can't help it nor explain this phenomenon.

He also also can't explain why he has this urge to gently pat you with a digit.

☆ Knockout

While he does buff himself on his own, or has Breakdown help him, he does enjoy it when you're buffing him instead as well. Especially when he's in his alt mode.

Speaking of which, expect drive-in theater dates. Just don't get his interior dirty with snack crumbs.

Worries a lot about your health. If you're sick, he'll keep you close to him to make sure you're actually alright. But no kisses from him till you're no longer coughing and sneezing. He just buffed himself and doesn't need your sickly fluids on his frame.

☆ Predaking

Tends to pick up you up whenever he wants attention. You were talking to Steve? Nah, now you gotta give you giant mecha dragon pets and kisses.

He also enjoys carrying you around on his frame whenever he can. At least he won't have to look where he goes this way.

While he has to go on missions from time to time, it's not a common thing due to his value, so a lot of his time is spent protectively watching over his human.

[bones4thecats]

you can also do Orion pax/Optimus prime x cybertroniana reader, both were a couple before the war, and they still follow him on Earth

TFP! Optimus Having A Longtime S/O

Character: Optimus Prime (Transformers Prime) Requester: @zinnia1506 A/N: I love this trope. Just a calm and nonchalant boyfriend x his loving and slightly-feral S/O! Anyways, I hope you like this. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: The ending of the show and Predcons Rising Film ⚠️

Fun fact: I wrote this listening to Lion King/Guard songs😂

••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●•

»»——————————-　 Optimus Prime 　——————————-««

⚔️ Optimus doesn't have that many people left, at least people that he knows that are currently alive. He knew more friends were deceased than alive basically

⚔️ Though, he does have someone alive that he cares the most about; his adorable S/O. You.

⚔️ Meeting back when he was still Orion Pax and a young data clerk working inside of the Iacon and you were the current Grand Diplomat of Alpha Trion's rule as Cybertron's Council's head

⚔️ You had to deliver some information in pads to the place to get organized, and when the young bot smiled and allowed you inside to organize them to how Alpha Trion wished, you began to ask about his life

⚔️ As you began to speak from time-to-time whenever you visited with more classified documents, a bond was formed quick. While many solar cycles passed, the pair of young bots were ogled on by many elders, especially Orion's friend, Megatronus, and your boss, Alpha Trion

⚔️ You were there when Megatronus, now Megatron, was denied in favor of Orion. And you were right by his side when the war blasted off and you soared away with his small team to Earth in hopes of finding something to help with the war and your home planet

⚔️ And while you two would spend many of your days by one another, as the war progressed, that was becoming harder and harder. Thankfully, your teammates would get you two to spend time together by taking some work away from your servos

⚔️ Now, when it comes to missions, you guys almost always go together. Very rarely are you apart in battle. And whenever you go without him, he keeps solid contact with you, and whenever he doesn't get a decent reply, he gets worried beyond recognition

⚔️ During the time fighting against Megatron for the final time, you were help hostage with Ratchet. Being held not for assistance in finalizing the synthetic energon, but for your information on fixing Cybertron, in which you told Megatron to piss off and jump down a hole to a scrapheap

⚔️ Unlike Ratchet, you weren't given to Predaking to kill, rather, you were held in a cell surrounded by Vehicon soldiers. In a matter of minutes, you had gone from acting unconscious to wrapping your legs around on soldiers neck from behind and killing all around you. Think of that scene from The Suicide Squad (2021) when Harley broke out

(Here's a link for reference: Link) - warnings for A LOT blood and death!

⚔️ Optimus was very pleased when he saw both you and Ratchet okay, but when he saw a Vehicon attempt attacking you, he blasted him to the Well of the Allspark. Despite this, you fought brilliantly against the many soldiers against you

⚔️ You also showed a new depth of rhythmicity, from attacking Megatron from behind as Optimus took the front. And before you were knocked aside roughly and your sparkmate was hanging onto the Nemesis, everyone, including Decepticons, were shocked at how in-sync you two were. You really were sparkmates

⚔️ Bumblebee then killed Megatron, making you leap in joy and help him get your sparkmate up and onto the ship's base. You held the mech closely as you cheered with the rest of your team about the win against the Cons

⚔️ Throughout the rest of your lives together, you spent it fighting against Unicron. And while it was hard for you to say goodbye to your lover of many hundreds of years, you couldn't help but shed a tear when his red, white, and blue spark spun around you and acted as if he was pecking your forehead

⚔️ The others watched with smiles as you kissed the spark before watching it fly away. Ratchet patted your shoulder as Bee and the other, including Knockout, gathered around you in a large group hug. You were a family no matter what, thanks to the mech you called your one and only...

"I love you, Y/N..."

[jazzy-man13]

hello everything is fine? I saw that requests are open! I would like to know if you can write headcanons for tfp (megatron, predaking, soundwave and shockwave) falling in love with a cybertronian femme, the reader is a former gladiator and scientist (extremely intelligent) who is capable of creating a black hole? thanks to his scientific skills.

TFP decepticons x femme cybertronian reader

Grrrr ty anon for the request! Kinda short but I hope you enjoy :D

Megatron: He greatly admires your battle prowess and holds a much greater respect for you than most of his soldiers. Whenever he watches you put your gladiatorial skills to use, your magnificence and brutality nearly puts him in a trance. He also finds your scientific expertise to be of great value, considering that there's only one other experienced scientist on board.

Predaking: The beastly mech is eternally greatful to the allspark for blessing him with such a powerful femme in his life. He takes great pride in knowing that your strength is nearly capable of matching his own and that you are able to defend yourself. He often seeks you out whenever he has a question, seeing as he's still learning about the world and you are a highly intelligent and esteemed scientist.

Shockwave: He doesn't show any emotion, but he is more courteous to you than to most of his colleagues. He's greatful to have someone nearly matching his intelligence in the lab with him, significantly speeding up the work. Your capability to create a black hole fascinates him, and he spends more time with you to trade knowledge and discuss scientific matters.

Soundwave: They don't get to spend too much time with you, considering you're often on missions or in the lab. Every moment they have with you is cherished, just silently relishing your presence. Soundwave might not be an emotional or reactive con, but it's clear that they've taken a liking to you and your powerful frame. Since they can't spend a lot of time with you, they'll often send Laserbeak to assist you in the lab or on the field.

[mariacrow]

TFP Decepticons x reader

✶ relationship headcanons ✶

I know no one asked for this and that there are requests in my inbox but rewatching TFP got my inspiration and ideas all over the place :’)

THIS ONE IS LONG 💀 (that’s what she said-)

2nd person

female reader

how you’d get together, confession

how you’d function together, PDA

intimacy, preferences (NSFW)

how long would it last

MEGATRON

OOF.

As your lord he would treat you as one of his servants, nothing less, nothing more

Knowing he’s intrigued by you and not denying it, he would give you more difficult tasks (mostly in the lab because you’re SM0LL)

All you’d get from him is bare minimum praising but oh how you’d blush and melt nevertheless would make him smirk and snicker

He’d definitely be bossier when it comes to you just because he wants to dominate you in any possible way

As time would pass he would get more intimate with you in private, perhaps a little touchy

It would all start with rough sex, him pounding you into the control panel, make you stain it with your bitter sweet juices as he’d make you scream his name- okishouldstop-

Anywho, that would be the “confession”. More like making you moan out YOUR confession

As your relationship would develop, he’d make you seem as his personal pet, he’d even call you pet names

He’s very possessive and protective, hence PDA in this case would be making you follow him around the warship all the time, carry you and be a little touchy at times just to make sure you’re still his. He’d protect you at all costs and maybe even panic when you’re in danger

When he wants to do it, you will do it, be that the control room, the lab, in the hallway against the wall, on the floor, it doesn’t matter. You will take him when he wants it the way he wants it

He’s into dirty talk, also loves when you beg and scream his name or call him lord or master

He doesn’t like making a mess so he’d always scold you when you’d make one or when he’d fill you up to the brim and make a puddle underneath, always blaming it on you

Actually loves when you’re a playful brat and disobey him so he can punish you

At times you feel like his sex toy but he’d prove to you that you’re much more

It’s just the way he functions, he’s evil after all but definitely loyal to the core

You’re either his forever or you shall perish

🩶

STARSCREAM

EW.

He’d pretend he’s annoyed by you all the time, pretend he hates you the most as if you’re his blood enemy

In fact he’s very jealous when he sees you looking at anyone else or God forbid TALK WITH THEM

Once he wouldn’t be able to take it anymore, he’d angrily drag you somewhere where you’re alone. First he’d take a deep breath and almost cry as he’d confess to you

He’d beg you to be his, he’d kneel in front of you and kiss your hands and cry his feelings out as well as apologize for treating you like scrap

In the relationship he’d be into that master and kitten stuff, he’d even call you kitten (cringe imo)

He is into PDA just so he could brag how you’re finally his

He’d act all dominant and make you refer to him as master, as well as during the freaky time but if you’re a switch or a dom, he can easily become a sub and squirm and whimper

After he’d totally embarrass himself with begging you to let him cum, he’d deny it and pretend nothing happened

When he’s dom, he can be very nasty and sloppy. Definitely a dirty talker, also likes to hear you beg

He’s very easily offended BY ANYTHING so he’d always be the one breaking up with you every week and then coming back to you on his knees just a day or even a few hours later

He’s just one pathetic lover

🩶

KNOCKOUT

Oh he’s one hunk of a mech

He’d very visibly expresses his burning feelings for you

He’d flirt with you all the time, give you seductive gazes, smirks, winks etc.

He’s a mech that notices every little detail so he’d shower you with compliments any time he gets a chance, making sure he doesn’t repeat any of them

He’d always ask you to help him fix his paint job whenever it would get ruined or simply give him a buff session

That would be your beginning love language, that’s when you’d be alone and when he’d take his sweet time making you all flustered

He’d love taking you on long relaxing rides, he’s a romantic soul after all

That’s when he’d take advantage of the perfect moment and kiss you, tell you how the long foreplay should finally turn into something serious

He’s an amazing lover, he’d treat you like a princess, pamper you, spoil you, get you everything you need to take care of your beauty

He’s definitely a tease too so you’d enjoy his little suggestive sentences until your passions finally collide and drag you to bed with him

He’s sensual, he likes to take it slow and hot and definitely a mech to get turned on by the pleasure he’s making you feel

Definitely into oral, loves eating you out until you reach your limit

He DOES NOT shut his mouth, he might as well give you an eargasm before and orgasm

He knows what he’s doing, he knows how to find all of your soft spots and overstimulate you and occasionally make you beg, he doesn’t mind, he loves all the sounds you’re making

In conclusion, he’s definitely a mech who read that “She comes first” book

He isn’t perfect though, he can be a burden and difficult to handle, especially his perfectionism which can be REALLY annoying

That’s why you might go through some difficult times with him, take a break and then come back to each other after a month or two

Even when you’d “officially” break up, you would get back together nonetheless

🩶

BREAKDOWN

MY 2ND FAV!!! 🥰 he so goofy I love him

He definitely lacks a couple of braincells so he isn’t the best at making you intrigued

He would flirt with you all the time in his own… Breakdown way-

He’s trying to cover up the fact he’s VERY afraid of hurting you, mostly physically because he’s so huge

He doesn’t have a sense of his surroundings hence he can be too rough at times and he’s aware of that. Just another reason to be scared to break the ice with you and take it further

He has proved to you a couple of times that he isn’t just a pile of steal and a hammer. Deep inside, behind that thick armor he has a big warm spark waiting for you

His confession would be perfectly timed, even though he hasn’t planned it a bit, just when you’d feel he’s playing with you all along

He would spill his spark for you and tell you he loves you

It would be a start of a wholesome relationship with a perverse size difference which would actually start turning him on

He’s quite of a sloppy kisser (kinda hot ngl)

In bed he’s like a dog in heat, his favorite position is doggy style even, he loves giving you spine breaking back shots and watch your ass jiggle and smack on his thick hips and thighs as you scream for more

He also loves using you as a pocket pussy, just squeeze you in his servo and bounce you up and down on his spike

He doesn’t know what a slow gentle pace is but if you ask him nicely, he will try, for you, his beloved

He’s quite vocal so you two will definitely echo around the warship

He doesn’t give a single damn what others think, hence he’s totally fine with PDA

Quickies are also his thing, he’s a risk taker, it turns him on

Sometimes he’s taking it too far while others are around:

Breakdown: *gets all touchy in the middle of the lab* I want to stick it deep inside of you so bad rn-

Y/N: Not the time-

Breakdown: ok-

He can be so dumb sometimes, no one can make you mad like he can, make you cry even and that’s why the relationship would be unstable at times

But he doesn’t want to lose you because you really make him happy and he wants to build something serious and everlasting for the first time in his life

That’s why you’d always get an honest apology from him and you’d move on together like a healthy couple (until the next stupid thing he does-)

🩶

DREADWING

MY NUMBER ONE!!! 🥰

He’s definitely a mech to hide his feelings for you and deny it

He’d treat you roughly and avoid you at first, trying to erase every special feeling in his spark he has for you

At some point he wouldn’t be able to do it anymore and he’d let himself sink into your beautiful eyes, admire your smile and small, soft figure, let himself enjoy every moment of your beautiful voice tickling his audio receptors

As you’d grow on him, he wouldn’t leave your side and tend to stare at you without even blinking (he can be a creep-)

His confession would be spontaneous, your lips and his dermas would meet one evening in the lab and he’d tell you how much he’s been thinking of you. It would seem like a proposal because when he gets attached it’s over, you’re his one and only

As your relationship would grow stronger and more serious, you’d see he indeed has a soft side but ONLY for you

Hence he isn’t really into PDA but he isn’t ashamed to say you’re his partner, though he tends to avoid it

He would make sure you don’t think he’s ashamed of being with you, explaining how it’s all because of his duty

When it comes to intimacy, he’s a mech that prefers it slow and gentle at first but then he wouldn’t be able to contain his urge and strength and go rough on you (size kiiiink)

He dirty talks here and there but he’s more of a groaning type that uses his hands to express himself (grab your hair, scratch you, mark you in any way)

He’s into sounding though so he’d make sure you make sweet juicy noise that would only make him into a wider animal that will fill you up to the brim

Perhaps a tiny punishment kink-

Afterwards he’d ask you if he was too rough and if he hurt you to which you’d only boost his ego with saying how it was perfect

He’s not playing around, if you’re his partner, he will cherish you and protect you forever

After losing his brother, he can’t lose you too…

🩶

SOUNDWAVE

The moment he lay his optics-… visor? Sensors? Anyway- the moment he SAW you, he knew you’re THE ONE.

He must have you at all costs

He would secretly display a smiley face for you from time to time which would lead to him doing it whenever he’d see you on the ship

When you’re alone, he’d quietly approach you and stand or sit very VERY close to you

He would express his intrigue by being willing to help you, displaying sentences such as:

“Soundwave: willing to help.”

As you two would get closer to each other, sentences such as these would show on his visor:

“Soundwave: finding Y/N prepossessing.”

“Soundwave: relishes moments with Y/N.”

He would start displaying a heart the moment he’d feel as if you two finally clicked

When he’d want you to give him a kiss, he’d simply lean closer to you and wait for a sweet smooch on his display

This is ONLY when you two are alone, PDA is a big nono due to his job, he must stay focused at all times

In bed all he cares about is pleasing you. Tell him what you like and how you like it and he will more than just exceed your expectations

If you’re a fan of tentacles, well… you know~

Sometimes it seems as if he doesn’t even need to get intimate, as if he’s just your pleasure robot but at times he can get overstimulated by the sight of your pleasure so he gets the urge to take over

He doesn’t make sounds at all

He definitely videotapes every single freaky time you two have (kinkyyyy)

If you ask him about his voice, he will reveal it only for you but afterwards he will still prefer not using it often

If you’re his, you’re his forever, no doubt

🩶

SHOCKWAVE

HE SO THICC

It is ILLOGICAL for him to fall in love

But here we are, lab boy is all over you

He would rather die than express it, hence you always thought you had no chance with him

Though as time would pass, he would invite you to the lab more and more often so you would help him

He would admire your tiny hands at work, just stand there and watch you do whatever he asked you to

He needs a little lab assistant to help with him with stuff of smaller size

And that’s indeed how you became his little lab assistant!

You would get mixed signals from him whenever he’d pet your head and tell you you did a good job

Until one day he would just lean closer to you and say:

Shockwave: I request a kiss.

To which you’d kiss his LAMP.

He’d only treat you as a partner when you’re alone, mostly in the lab or his berthroom, explaining to you his position is too serious to show any kind of weakness

He would keep his formality of speech all the time which is kinda hot at times

Getting intimate with him is not easy considering his sex drive isn’t big but once you do, it’s heaven

He always takes it his way and it’s mostly in the lab. He has a weird sex in the lab kink (kinda hot)

He prefers missionary as he loves seeing a pure mess he’s pounding into

He’s mostly quiet but he would throw his helm back or/and groan in pleasure because you’re too tight for his girthy spike

Getting caught is not something that worries him. Even if someone does walk in on you, he would just assert dominance that way - stare at whoever entered the lab as he keeps pounding you

He isn’t the best at aftercare but he’d praise you and clean you, carry you to bed or just let you rest on his shoulder as he continues working

He’s VERY possessive which means there’s no running away from Shocky~

You’re lamp boy’s eternal love

Some stuff is from the roleplays with my bestie @k----a27s

Dividers belong to @kiwicidios , @firefly-graphics and @kimjiho1 💜

[uselessmicrowave]

pspspsp!!! can i get a one shot of tfp wheejack with a teasing mech s/o?? like s/o keeps touching his ear things which are very sensitive?? thank you!!!

You poke at his audial fin again, giggling when it flicks away from your touch. You have that stupid grin on your face, the one that he can’t even see because you’re behind him, but Wheeljack knows.

“Stop that, Y/n.” He grabs your servo when you try again.

“Aw, but it’s so cute!” You try to tap his audial fin again with your other servo. Wheeljack’s mask snaps closed to hide his blue-tinted faceplates. “Oh, you’re embarrassed! Adorable.” You press a kiss into the side of his helm.

“Sunshine,” He groans. “Don’t tease me.” Wheeljack leans back against your chassis. You chuckle, wrapping your arms around his chest plating.

“I can’t help it, you’re too cute.” You say. He sighs as you kiss near his optics. He lets go of your servo, you go straight back to tapping and petting his audial fins.

[stickytrigger69]

ooo could we get a thing with subby tfp starscream being kind of a brat with a mech reader? i imagine his wings are sensitive, so reader rubs them while he teases his spike at screamer’s entrance, that kinda thing,,, throw a “good boy” in there too please? thank you!!!

TFP Starscream x Mech Reader

Mech reader

Submissive Starscream, Dominant Reader

NSFW, minors dni

(A/N) I accidentally posted before I even started, so I did start it but then my phone turned off and lost all of the fucking progress, I feel like that picture of pepe pulling at his eyelids. (yes I wrote it all while at work)

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"The audacity! How dare he!" Staracream grumbles, pacing back and forth like a caged mechanimal, "He can't do that to me, be that way with ME?! of all mechs on the ship." His small servos wave around in the air, the even smaller object in his servo makes you a little nervous. You've been watching him for the past 5 minutes, at the least, trying to make sure he doesn't hurt himself in the middle of his hissy fit.

"Darling?" You try getting his attention.

"I'm his most valuable, his second hand mech." He stomps past you, then turns on his heel to go back around.

"Darling, sweetspark." You speak softly and affectionately, you know hes frustrated so you're treading as lightly as possible.

"Ugghhh, it's not fair!!" He cries and turns to face you, throwing the object in your direction. Without thinking, you swat it away before it can touch you, and within seconds, you're standing in front of him, his wrist in your large servo. "Ah, let go of me!" He starts pulling against you, but you don't budge.

"No, you're misbehaving." You say simply, looking at him voidly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to throw it at you, I'm just so-" He scrambles to apologize.

"Frustrated, I know darling, but," you grab his chin and make him look in your optics, "That's no excuse for your bad behavior. I think you need to be punished." You peck his derma gently. He shivers, and that's all you need to begin picking him up and pulling him flush to your frame. A deep kiss has him relax, and a smack to his faceplate alerts him again of the trouble he's in.

"But I..." You shush him, making him gasp and swallow his words.

"If you're a good boy, I'll be nice." You promise, which makes his optics sparkle almost. "Will you be a good boy for me?" He nods. "Then show me, baby." You set him down, and without another word or thought, he gets on his knees and prods gently at your panel until it opens. Your spike has begun to pressurize, but not completely, so when he starts touching you and licking and sucking and nipping at it, the brighter the biolights glow, and the bigger it pressurizes. You let him do his job until you hear his panel pop as well. "Alright, come here."

He stands in front of you for a deep kiss. You start fiddling with his wings, rubbing and circling the bumps and crevices, occasionally making him moan into your mouth. He grinds his hips forward, valve aching for your spike and dripping with sweet fluid. "Please." He pleads between a kiss

"Please, what baby boy?" You ask, tugging and pinching lightly at his sensitive wings.

With a moan, he answers breathlessly, "Frag me already, please, Daddy." He grinds his hips into the air again. With one thought in your processor, you lay him on the berth. His servos hold onto your neck, playing with the cables while you stare at him. Admiring your beautiful mate. With a servo on the side of his faceplate and the other on his wing, you start prodding the head of your spike at his entrance.

"You're so beautiful, my good boy." With a sweet kiss, you thrust fast and hard into his tight valve. He moans into the kiss again, this time louder. "Good boy." You sit up on your knees and look down at him. He already looks spent, but there's so much more ahead of him. Your left servo takes hold of his throat, and you start pounding unto his valve. He holds his legs up for you like you've taught him. "Such a good boy." You grunt and groan into the air. His valve is so tight and wet.

After a few hours of non-stop fragging, you sit at the edge of the berth, Starscream lying in the middle of it, sprawled out. Transfluid pooling out from his valve. You're reading more mission briefs. At least you had the chance to clear your processor before you had work to do. You stand, stretch, and sigh. You look down at your lover, so soft and sweet, misunderstood and mistreated. It makes your tanks churn and spark ignite.

Starscream wakes up to incessant pings. He sits up clean and refreshed, oh he needed that spike more than he thought, but the more he thinks, the more he wants. His panel pops open again, "Scrap!"

[dragonridernoobie]

I’m kinda embarrassed cause I messed up last time so I may go anonymous for a lil bit but I had an idea! Okay transformers=shiny reader who likes shiny things=crow behavior

And what do crows love?! SHINYS! Now to ideas for this Crow!Reader who keeps just trying to collect the transformers(wether reader is like a crow harpy/actually has bird characteristics or is human/crybertronian is up to u😌) ORRRRRRR she keeps bringing them shiny things cause she likes them and is trying to court them but they don’t get it, and reader is super possessive of her shiny things

Characters: Optimus(TFP or Bayverse you can pick!) Wheeljack, Ratchet, and Megatron(I’ve read all of the fics for him and need more:,))

Don't be embarrassed. We all do stupid shit, but if you still want to go anonymous then go ahead. Remmber one of my rules here are no shame. Also, I like this. I will try my best, hope you like it!

TFP X Avian Reader

Background info: The reader is an escaped experiment from MECH. They tried to make a super human but failed, this is for the optimus one.

Also, reader is an avian. I think it fits better. Also, this is what a avian looks like.

Optimus

Optimus was minding his own business. He was following an energon single intel he came across a massive trap laid out by MECH.

Inside he found reader.

He was amazed since he never seen a human with feathers or wings.

He definitely noticed how they acted like a bird. Meaning reader ruffled up their feather's, and tried to make themselves bigger.

Like an owl.

How an owl dose it

He talks calmy to it and frees it.

Reader takes this chance to fly away.

Optimus was surprised, worried, and sad that reader flue away but he hopes to find them again

Weeks past and optimus starts to find strange objects right outside of the base

Broken beer peices, rings, cans, even an engergon crystal once.

When he stayed up late to catch the intruder, he finds reader.

She was the one bringing the stuff to the base.

Optimus takes this opportunity to try to help and earn trust from the reader.

It takes a Hella long time.

But reader comes when optimus calls them and will actally bring him things he lost.

Even ancient objects that reader can carry.

Wheeljack

When wheeljack was captured by the decepticons he was brought into Knockouts lab.

(Shockwave wasent in the story yet)

While he hanged there, he noticed movement from the corner of his optic.

When he looks over, he finds reader looking at him curious from her contaner.

Wheeljack was definitely surprised since he knows humans don't look like giant turkeys.

He tries to talk to it, but reader just dose clicks and chirps.

When wheeljack has the ability to knockout...knockout...ya

He takes this chance to grab the container reader is in and runs out of the decepticon warship.

Once back at his jackhammer, he opens the container and reader quickly flies off.

Wheeljack definitely will tell the autobots but pains no mind to reader.

She's free, no longer in danger, no longer his problem.

After a couple of weeks after the incident, wheeljack flies off earth to find more autobots.

That's when he hears wierd noises at the back of the jackhammer.

He goes back to investigate. Preparing since it could be a con.

But he finds reader, making nest out of his tools.

He is surprised but tries to talk to reader.

He is surprised when reader hands him a can.

He learns quickly that shiny is readers favorite thing.

Ratchet

Ratchet was going thru the internet at base, looking for any spotting of weird things.

Like ancient shit.

That's when he came across a article about a moth/bird person.

He knew humans made up alot of woerd story's to scare there kind.

He would have dismissed it, if it wasent for the fact in the picture, this moth/bird thing had a necklace.

An ancient cybertronian artifact.

He looks at all the spotting and narrow it down in a forest in south America.

He takes a portal there, since he thinks he can handle this alone.

After a few hours of searching, he finds the necklace...with a bunch of other shiny stuff in a giant ass nest

He was amazed since all the reasurch he has done on earth life never talked about birds or anytbing making nest this big.

When he reached for the reckless, something swoops down and latches on his face.

Ratchet curses and tries to swat the thing off.

It makes a painful chirp and crashes into the ground.

When he looks at it, he is amazed to find a human...half bird?

He was amazed but seeing it hurt, he curses and helps it

He takes it to base and helps it

Que a stressful few weeks

Reader was a pain in the aft.

But ratchrt somehow earned their trust...also alot of shiny nick-nacks on his keybord.

Megatron

Megatron met reader when he captured a human and gave it to Shockwave.

Ordering him to make a hybrid.

Weeks later, Shockwave presents reader. A half bird and human hybrid.

Megatron wasent happy that it was dangerous but dosent kill it.

Nah, it's his pet.

Soon, reader gets out of the warship and dose there own thing.

Soon returning with shiny stuff they find.

They made a nest up high in the throne room

Megatron was annoyed by that but it dosent interfere with his planes so leaves it alone.

Soon, he noticed shiny things in his berthroom.

Like rings, cans, broken beer bottles, chip bags, anything shiny.

He was confused and went to Soundwave to see the recording who dared went into his berthroom

He finds reader flying in there and setting them in there.

He was confused.

Intel once day, reader returned to the ship with an artifact they just lost to the autobots.

He was amazed and actally impressed for once.

He praised reader and ordered anyone who hurts reader will lose their spark.

Reader was now a higher rank then starscrsam XD

Hope you like it!!!!!!!!!

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Ready Or Not, Here I Come

Pairing: TFP Knockout x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains mentions of soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 2875

Summary: Being kidnapped by a giant alien robot who also happens to be one of the most narcissistic assholes on this side of the galaxy wasn't something you planned for today. Unfortunately, things happen, and now you must hide and escape from a mech who certainly doesn't want to let you go.

Knockout fic time ya'll eat up. This is actually my first time writing for him and I did A LOT of research on his mannerisms and personality to make sure I got him right. I also really wanted to play into the fearplay factor and show how terrifying it would be for one of us humans to be hunted by what is essentially an apex predator that has its notoriety spread to numerous planets who have interacted with Cybertronians, especially Decepticons. Feedback and comments are much appreciated! Enjoy trying to escape from this handsome idiot :)

You are screwed.

Like, absolutely, positively screwed.

You huddle in the corner of the empty boxcar, your entire body shivering from cold and fear. The evening is dark, with no light except from the moon to illuminate the deserted trainyard around you. Your breath is labored and quick, coming out in puffs of dragon’s smoke while you tremble and hug yourself tighter, sinking into the little warmth your winter coat provides.

  You feel a vibration pulse beneath you.

  All of your senses are on overdrive. You go still while you strain your ears for the slightest sound of movement, holding your breath and pressing your hands into your forearms.

  Silence.

  There’s only the roar of your own heart.

  Maybe it was from a car, you think to yourself. Or a truck. There’s a road not far from here. It had to be that.

  Convincing yourself you are safe is not working.

  Your body still shakes, and your instincts know, they can sense that you aren’t out of the woods yet. The thing that took you is still out there.

  You want to mutually sob and laugh from the utter disbelief of it. Monsters are real. And you are being hunted by one.

  “Boom.”

  The boxcar trembles.

  Your heart stops and you feel the chilling sensation of numbness prickle over your skin.

  The night is silent.

  “Boom.”

  Footsteps echo in the distance.

  They aren’t human. They’re too heavy, too loud.

  He knows where you are. He’s coming for you.

  Panic sets in. Scrambling to your feet, you leave your little corner and poke your head out of the boxcar’s open door. Fog has set in and turned the trainyard into an eerie maze with paths draped in mist. Your sense of direction is thrown off by the hazy images of the other boxcars all around you. Everything looks exactly the same. This place is huge; how are you supposed to find your way out of it? You can’t even recall the way you took to get to this point!

  “Boom.”

  He’s getting closer.

  “Shitshitshit.” You turn in a circle and pull at your hair while your chest constricts and you feel a familiar tugging from behind your eyes that means oncoming tears. You don’t know what to do. What can you do? How are you supposed to get out of this? You're running out of time!

  Don’t panic. That’s rule number one. Panicking will only make you an easier target. You force your arms to drop. Inhaling deep through your nose and letting it out of your mouth, you close your eyes and urge yourself to relax.

  You will find a way out of here. When the creature brought you here, you saw a gas station about a mile away down the main road that borders the trainyard. If you can make it there, someone will have to help you. You just have to remain unseen until then.

  “BOOM.”

  The boxcar shakes. You wobble a little, and your hope drops.

  “Helloooo!” A prim male voice announces itself. “Little human! I know you're here!”

  You duck out of view and press yourself against the boxcar’s wall. Footsteps echo with the smooth whirrr of mechanical joints moving a massive robotic body through the alleyways of train cars.

  You don’t understand why he’s doing this. You were minding your own business, going about your life like any regular person does, when all of a sudden this…car zoomed straight for you and flashed you with a blinding blue light. Everything had gone black then, and when you woke up, you were trapped in a vehicle with no driver. A vehicle that was talking. Thank god it was still a vehicle with a steering wheel and brakes, because you managed to get into the front seat and crash it into a ditch. That’s how you ended up here. You were running and hiding from a car-turned-giant robot who’s probably pissed you scuffed up his paint job.

  You hear a growl that sends shivers down your spine.

  Okay. He’s definitely pissed.

  “Oh, I know you fleshies love your little games,” the robot lilts, “but I’m not particularly in the mood to play one. So, either you come out now, or I will have to force you out of hiding. Trust me human, you really don’t want to know what I’m like when I get serious.”

  You have to get out of here. If you don’t run now, he’s going to find you, and you’ll never have another chance to escape again. Gathering up what little courage you have, you once again peek outside.

  A pair of massive red eyes stare right back at you.

  A scream is ripped from your lungs. You fall flat on your ass, pushing yourself away from the giant robot looking in. The mech cackles. “Oh, that was priceless! You fleshies are so easy to startle!”

  “F-Fuck off!” you yell hoarsely at him. “Get the fuck away from me!”

  He laughs again and reaches a clawed hand into the boxcar. You shriek and fumble to avoid the oncoming digits. The corner once again becomes your safe haven when you curl up into it, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

  The robot smirks. “All bark and no bite, hmm? I was expecting that. All of you fleshbags are the same. You think you're so tough, until something bigger comes along to snap at you.”

  You give him the most withering glare you can muster, but you guess it doesn’t exactly do the job, since he only chuckles. “If you weren’t such a revolting mass of organic waste, I would actually find you rather cute, you know. Ah, shame. And here I was thinking about being rather gentle with you.”

  “W-What do you want with me?!” You stand up on shaky legs that nearly give out beneath you. “Why did you kidnap me? What did I do?”

  “You really want to know the truth?” he asks.

  “Yes, obviously!”

  He shrugs. “Alright. I was bored. I saw you and decided, hey, why not have a little bit of fun before I go? Is that a satisfactory answer for you, human?”

  You blink dumbfoundedly. “So you…you kidnapped me and drove me out into the middle of bumblefuck nowhere because you were bored?!”

  “Well, I hardly think being bored is a simple reason,” he replies matter-of-factly. “Boredom can be quite the bane to one’s existence. It can lead to all sorts of medical complications. Depression, stress, irritable tank syndrome-”

  “Cut the crap!” You interrupt him with a gnash of your teeth. “This isn’t funny! Take me back to where you picked me up, right now!”

  “It’s quite funny to me.” The mech drums his claws idly against the boxcar’s floor. “You know what else is funny? The fact that you actually think you're in control of this situation. Tell me, what if I were to say no?”

  You open your mouth to retort, but find no sound comes out. The mech raises an eyebrow. His shit-eating grin widens. “What, got nothing to say? That’s fine, I really didn’t expect you to have an answer. Here’s the thing: You're not going anywhere right now. So, kick back, relax. Maybe if you're a good little meatbag, I’ll consider letting you go.”

  “I’m not a meatbag!” You're really starting to hate this guy. “I’m a person! A human being!”

  “Human, meatbag, it’s all the same.” He waves a hand dismissively. “Now, are you going to make this easy for yourself? Or are we going to keep up this argument that is not only petty, but also rather meaningless?”

  You slump back down and draw your knees close to your chest, lowering your head a little and wishing you weren’t shaking with fear. The mech takes great delight in this. He inhales deeply and sighs, shuddering ecstatically. “Ah, there it is again. That wonderful scent of terror. It’s absolutely tantalizing.”

  Your head shoots up. “Wait. What?”

  “You heard me. I didn’t take you just because I was bored, you know. I was also on the lookout for a snack.”

  “You…eat humans?” You gape at him, horrified.

  “Not typically. But ever since my home planet decided to, well, blow up ages ago, my kind have had to resort to some…secondary methods in order to survive.”

  “So, you’re-you’re an alien?”

  “No. I’m just a normal Aston Martin.” He oozes narcissism while he runs a hand expressingly down his shoulder armor. “Notice the expensive color? The gold rims? I’m a real work of art, you know. You should appreciate me more.”

  You feel like you are ready to explode. “Be serious! What are you?”

   He rolls his eyes. “Hmph. No sense of humor. Typical humans. Fine, since you want to be such a downer about everything, I’ll tell you. I’m a Cybertronian, fleshbag. My name is Knockout.” He tapped his chest like you were a child he was teaching basic English to. “And you are?”

  You grumble, reluctant to give up your identity, but feeling obligated to since he just revealed his. “It’s…Y/N.”

  “Hm. Y/N. Pretty name.” He smiles. “So, Y/N. Ready to come out of there and face the music?”

  You shake your head fervently. “N-No way!”

  His eyes glint with sinister mischief. “What if we were to play a little game?”

  “I’m not interested in playing any game with you.”

  “Come on. It’s not like you have anything better to do. Just hear me out. I’ll give you twenty Earth minutes to find your way out of here. If you do, I won’t follow you, and I’ll let you go. But if I do find you…” He slowly gouges his claws against the boxcar’s floor. The wood splits and shatters, leaving behind deep, messy wounds. An impending sense of doom fills you.

  “If I do find you, you're mine,” he says. “And you will accept that with no opposition.”

  You stand up in protest. “That's a terrible game!”

  He shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s perfectly reasonable. I’m giving you a chance to prove you aren’t as pathetic as you make yourself look. Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

  “The worst that could happen would be me being eaten by a giant fucking alien robot!”

  “You won’t die.” His voice grows uncharacteristically soft. For a moment, you actually think you see a hint of genuineness in his eyes. “I can promise you that. I don’t digest organics. It’s not good for my systems.”

  You scoff. “Yeah, right. As if I’d believe you.”

  “I can prove I’ll be fair with this.” He rises and takes a few steps back. “I’ll stay right here and even give you a head start! How thoughtful of me. I don’t display generosity like this very often, so my advice would be to take advantage of it.”

  You hesitate and consider your odds. If you remain in here, not only are you essentially trapped, but the mech can also easily shake you out. But if you take up his offer…you might actually have a chance to escape.

  The mech taps his foot impatiently. “I don’t have all night, Y/N. Come out, or I’ll drag you out.”

  Slowly, you inch out of the boxcar. He towers over you, a massive red giant who, now that you fully perceive him, looks more and more alien by the second. Cherry red and silver with accents of yellow peeking out between joints that come together to create something that should not be possible. He’s bulky, yet slim at the same time, with spiky points neatly jutting up from his knees and shoulders. The finials on his head give him a sharp, shark-like look. There’s an equal mixture of danger and beauty surrounding him, and it makes you even more uncomfortable with him being around you. You full heartedly believe he could snap you up in one bite if he wishes.

  He tilts his head with an air of curiosity and offers you a charming smile.  “There you are,” he coos. “Look at you. I knew you could do it. Good little human. You like what you see?”

  You have to look away so he won’t see the way your cheeks flush red. “No, I don’t,” you shakily retort. “Don’t patronize me.”

  “Aww, you're flustered. Don’t be embarrassed. There’s no shame in admitting you're attracted to me. I’m a real knockout when it comes to looks.”

  “Oh my god.” You slap a hand over your face. “Oh my god. You are horrible.”

  Knockout throws his head back and laughs. “Get used to it, fleshy. Your feelings will grow for me sooner or later. Now, go on, scurry along now. Remember, five minutes and I’m coming for you.”

  You can’t believe you’ve agreed to this. You don’t want to believe this is happening. A giant alien robot from outer space wants to hunt you down and take you away from your life. How the hell could your day have gone so wrong?

  You find yourself running. You’ve agreed to this game. Now you have to go through with it. You don’t want to know what will happen if you don’t.

  Your feet clumsily hit the ground and create loud, uneven steps. Too loud. Too obvious. How long has it been? A minute? Or thirty seconds? Nervous sweat beads your brow. Hiding within another boxcar would be too easy. You must use this maze to your advantage. There is no elaborate plan of deception rising up within your mind. When you spontaneously decide to shimmy your way beneath a boxcar, only one thing is certain: you just need to hide.

  The tracks are cold and uncomfortable to lay over. You squirm and hiss through your teeth when the metal presses up against your stomach and legs, but you bear with it and remain in place. There is no sound. Just your breath. Just your heart.

  “Boom. Boom. Boom.”

  Mighty steps shake the ground forcefully. A twin pair of mechanical red-and-silver feet stomp past you, a methodical movement thundering down the line of cars as that of an animal pacing back and forth with hungry impatience, watching first one boxcar and then another, alert for movement inside. There is laughter beyond your cover, mocking you.

  The thunder fades to simple vibrations. You must move. You roll out and stand, going in the opposite direction as Knockout. Steady footsteps. You must remain calm. But your breathing is still uneven and your heart still fights within your chest like a caged bird. You are afraid. So, so afraid.

  “Scccccccrrraaape.”

  Metal screeches. You can hear him dragging his claws across a boxcar’s top.

  “I can smell you, you know,” he gloats sardonically. Hair prickles up the back of your neck. “Do you know what you smell like?” he continues. “Do you want to know?”

  “Boom. Boom. Boom.”

  “The purest energon from the richest of mines. So delicious, so tasty. Oh, I cannot wait to get my jaws around you, little human.”

  You aimlessly turn a corner and see a hulking vermillion frame right in front of you.

  You just…freeze. Like a deer caught in the headlights, you can do nothing but stare at the gigantic robot. He’s crouched on one knee, peering into a boxcar with his back turned to you. You make the terrible mistake of releasing a soft gasp. It’s no louder than the faintest of whispers, but he hears. Of course he hears.

  The robot’s head snaps towards you. Unblinking crimson eyes search for you in the dark, pupils expanding and contracting repeatedly. You remain still. The tension in your muscles burns, yet you refuse to take your eyes off of him.

  He is a piece of tech beyond your understanding. But even robotics can have trouble seeing through fog.

  The mech inhales deeply through his mouth. His pupils become so large they nearly swallow up the red of his eyes. A wide, toothy grin spreads across his face.

  “Hm. Using the fog to your advantage. Clever little one. You're making this much more fun.” He stands. “Unfortunately for you, this liquid vapor does not hide everything.”

  You are whipcord tight, standing there with your feet nailed to the ground. There is a disconnection between your brain and your limbs. The mech has you under a spell, crafting your fear into a paralyzing weapon. You are too terrified to even utter a sound.

  He approaches you, slowly. You have to crane your neck to meet his gaze when he stands directly over you. “My, my,” he croons. “Such a fragile, delicate little thing. You make this too easy for me. Oh yeah, I’m definitely keeping you.”

  Your voice cracks a little. “I thought I was just a revolting mass of organic waste?”

  “You are. But, I’m willing to change my mind. After all, you’ve made this such an entertaining night for me. I’ve come to realize that…I need to see your fear again. This can’t be a one-time thing. It makes me far too…hungry.”

  Your hands shake when you raise them pleadingly. “H-How hungry?”

  He smiles wickedly, tongue running over his teeth. “Starved.”

  You don’t have time to even think about screaming before he lunges, claws caging you in and mouth descending for you, ready to swallow you whole.

[orion-nottson]

devil’s in the details | tfp!megatron x reader

A/N: i have tfp megatron brain rot. like i know he’s cray cray and deluded, but literally so am i we’re made for each other he’s mine

also this obvi deviates from canon, bc there is no way on god’s green earth that dreadwing and starscream could coexist semi-peacefully.

also, please be warned that i haven’t written transformers fanfic since i was like 14 💀💀 fought for my LIFE with the terminology (had to check my old WATTPAD stories to find some vocab 💀)

summary: lord megatron propositions you. it’s a rather bold request.

content: SMUT, 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, femme!cybertronian!reader, seeker!reader, sticky sexual interfacing, breeding kink, wee lil bit of choking, technically boss/employee relationship, power dynamic (it gets semi-resolved), implied past relationship/thought unrequited love, average decepticon emotional constipation, business arrangement procreation

word count: 6,367

~ * ~ * ~

The Decepticon warship lingers somewhere over the southern pole of Earth, resulting in a dramatic decrease in temperature, even with the efficiency of Cybertronian technology. You shift your wings for the umpteenth time, armor plates releasing air to alleviate the discomforting chill that’s started to bother you. Of course, it was far from being so cold that you needed to worry about your core temperature, but you are a Seeker from Vos, and Vos was always warm.

The thought makes your wings tremble again, so you hurry yourself to your quarters with a bit more haste.

It wouldn’t suddenly be warm and tropical, but at least you’d be able to curl up and shiver in privacy. Recharge sounds particularly nice too, considering you’ve been up for several cycles trying to appease Lord Megatron’s endless demands. Inwardly, you roll your optics— There seems to be nothing you can do that would satisfy him.

The corridor finally breaks into the wing that houses Decepticon high command, where yours and your fellow officers reside. Your room is down almost the entire expanse of the hall, the turn right before where Megatron’s personal habsuite lies. From where you’re walking, you can spot the sleek, black metal door. A chill runs up your back struts, and your processor convinces you it’s from the icy cold that’s overtaken the Nemesis.

“Curse this inhospitable, organic planet.” Muttering to yourself dissuades you from also blaming your Master, who was no help either, if you were to be honest. He could shove his “not wanting to expend precious Energon on unnecessary heating” decree up his tail pipe.

You resign yourself to some rather cold nights for the foreseeable future. Perhaps... If you played your cards right, as the humans say, you could convince Soundwave to pilot the ship north. Maybe somewhere near Hawaii...

A sharp, gravelly voice from behind you calls your name, and you spin around to see your Lord and Master a ways down the corridor from you. Immediately bringing yourself to attention, you straighten your back struts and bow politely.

“My liege.” You say, thanking Primus you’ve become so accustomed to Megatron’s thunderous shouts that you no longer jump, let alone flinch, when they occur. The silver mech strides up to you easily, displaying all the strength of a warrior in the confidence of his steps.

“Retiring to your quarters?” He asks austerely, as if he’s ever concerned himself with your whereabouts, let alone personal routine. Unease creeps up on you, so you shift on the thrusters of your peds and cross your servos over your chassis. Wings fluttering, you reply slowly, “Well, yes.”

“Allow me to accompany you there.” The silver mech says brightly, and it’s such an absurdly peculiar request for both the mech saying it and the situation at hand. You instinctively snort a laugh.

“I do believe I know the way to my own habsuite, my Lord.” You say before you can stop the words from coming out, and immediately regret them once they do. You meet Megatron’s hard stare sheepishly, wings dropping timorously. Forgetting your place in the grand scheme of things is not wise amongst the Decepticon ranks.

To your utter shock, you’re not met with a vicious reprimand and instead Megatron grins— this wickedly suave thing— and purrs, “Humor me.”

And all you can say is, “Of course.”

Megatron hums appreciatively, brushing past you as he takes the lead, like he always does. You step in time behind him, nearly colliding into his back struts when he suddenly halts, and you stumble backwards a few steps. The looming mech pivots, glancing down at you with a quizzical expression in his glowing optics.

“Seekers are a rare breed, yes?” Lord Megatron asks, and whatever game he’s begun to play with you genuinely stumps any reasoning you attempt. Opening your mouth, your optics dart over his face, trying to decode whatever message your Master is sending and coming up empty. 

“Er... Yes, my liege? Even before the war, Vos was not a populous city-state. There are probably... even less now.” You reply cautiously, becoming very put off as Megatron takes a step towards you. He looks as impassive as ever, though you’re beginning to see a very curious appraising expression overtaking his faceplates. It begins with the upcurve of his mouth, derma pulled into the most wolfish grin you’ve ever seen on the mech.

Utterly bizarre. Your processors want to reset because this Megatron is starting to look like the studly gladiator of Kaon you’d hear be lasciviously giggled about, not the ruthless, merciless tyrant he’s supposed to be.

“I have a rather... avant-garde proposition for you, my most loyal Seeker.” Megatron purrs, his servos clasped easily behind him as you’ve seen him too many times before, often when he schemes. He’s also talking to you as if this is casual, expected business of him; matter-of-fact and cordial, with his usual cool drawl.

Before you can reply, Megatron turns sharply once more and begins walking down the corridor, stopping after a few steps when he realizes you hadn’t started with him. He turns his helm to look back at you, this time there’s this strangely unreadable expression on his faceplates.

“Follow me.” He says simply, and without a second thought, you do.

Even though you’re a Seeker with naturally long legs, his pedsteps are even longer strides, so you have to exert some effort in keeping up with Megatron. It adds to the growing franticness that’s begun to bubble up inside your chassis. 

While not exactly fear, though that’s certainly part of it, you’ve been a Decepticon and aboard the Nemesis under Megatron’s direct command long enough to know that when he becomes cryptic, it means trouble. Or at least a command that you’d rather not be the one to deal with. Bluntly asking what the frag he’s on about wouldn’t be the best course of action, but you know that he likes you enough not to offline you immediately if you did.

So you do.

“My Lord, what exactly are you asking of me?” You inquire, noting with slight abject horror as Megatron approaches the door to your quarters and types in your lock code with ease. Of course, he is the leader after all. Instead of answering your question, he makes you feel even more uneasy by throwing you a mysteriously sultry look and quipping, “Let me have you if only for a breem. Or longer should I entertain you.”

You catch the flash of his ruby optics, their intentions indiscernible, and then he disappears into your habsuite like it’s his own.

There’s something to it, an itch of a thought that’s begun to decipher the puzzle and put together the pieces. Lately, Megatron has been far more... involved with you, more eager at your presence, and it was blatantly obvious that he grew quite miffed when others got too close. It was no secret to anyone— From Soundwave and Starscream to a lowly technician— that Megatron had an optic for you (many did, frankly) and thus he was quite possessive of your wiles and charms as well.

This line of thought leads you to step into your room, slowly and evenly as if it’s unmarked territory and not the quarters that were assigned to you millennia ago.

“Lord Megatron...” You trail off, catching his stare just as he sets your old null ray back on your weapons rack, where most of your old, dismantled, and prized tools are located. Your null ray had been a favorite, until some blasted Autobot blew out the important bits that kept it working. That had stung, and even eons later you still curse that specific Autobot to the Pits.

Megatron flexes his claws, and with a flourish he clasps his servos behind him once again. His red optics scan the entirety of your quarters, lingering on your berth until they come back to rest on you. His gaze is equal parts unnerving and fascinating, as if he’s deconstructing you armor by armor, stripping you down until he’s watched your spark pulse.

His optics, like twin red suns, center you at their universes, and you feel oddly... flattered at their amorous disposition.

“It is no secret that I have watched you for some time.” Megatron starts, tilting his helm as he becomes pensive. You nod dumbly, hardly processing a word he’s saying. Megatron takes a single step towards you, looming like a shadow. In the dim lighting of your room, his silver armor catches all the chiaroscuro, his violet accents hued to black. Only his glowing, fiery optics remain bright. He continues.

“I admit,—” Megatron drawls your name deliciously, “— That I have found myself... captivated by your beauty. Entranced by your prowess, both in battle and mind.”

“I...” Your vents hitch, wings shivering at the praise. Blinking rapidly to ensure this isn’t some monumentally vivid dream, you clear your intake and say, “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, my Lord.”

Megatron laughs, that slight chuckle that sounds halfway between his engines roaring and something genuine that comes from the spark. The silver mech’s rolls his shoulders, armor hissing as it releases air. Wildly, he confesses something you never would have expected from him, “I believe myself bewitched.”

His servos have clasped themselves into fists at his sides, and briefly you wonder if he’s angry with you, then his entire frame relaxes like he’s decompressing after a long spar with Dreadwing.

“Tell me, my little Seeker, why have you denied yourself of me for so long?” Megatron asks it like a tease, like he’s some boon to be revered or a sacred sword to be wielded. Heat rises beneath your armor plating, and your processors race kilometers a nanosecond to find a suitable answer. Or at least one that doesn’t make you sound like some lovesick femmeling.

You couldn’t lie and say you had no... feelings for your Master, who was as handsome and dark as he was powerful and cunning. Megatron was once a gladiator of Kaon, and gladiators on Cybertron were what you had often admired, marveling at their strength, drive, and raw spark. Megatron had been no different, though you also found his commanding presence and impressive intellect to be even more attractive.

That was really why you’d joined the Decepticon cause all those millennia ago; Drawn to your Master’s fight to bring equality to the rigid castes and to seize control of the Energon supply to better disperse it by his charismatic allure.

And somehow, Megatron knew all of this.

“It would have been insubordination if I acted upon my... desires.” You reply, crossing your arms over your ample chassis with a shrug. Megatron matches your collected temperament with a hum, staring down at you with unreadable red optics.

“Indeed. Though I wish you’d had disobeyed, my little Seeker.” Megatron purrs, taking a step towards you that closes the space between your frames and boxes you in. His EM field magnifies the atmosphere around you, tingling at the periphery of yours.

“M-My liege?” You gape, faceplates feeling hot as metal left in direct sunlight. He chuckles, and sinfully the tip of his glossa runs over his pointed denta. Your spark skips a beat, owlishly watching 

“If I had known sooner that you wanted me as direly as I did you, then this song and dance would have concluded vorns ago.” Megatron growls, optics flashing with not anger, but lust. He takes another step, and you’re speechless.

“That being said, I am patient. I have no qualms with how long we have waited, nor will I if you choose to wait longer.” One of the tyrant’s long, clawed digits clicks at the bottom of your chin, tilting your face upwards. His touch is delicate, like you’d break if he pushed too hard. Honestly, you probably would if he did. Part of you wants to see him try.

“What did you want to ask of me?” You whisper, optics fluttering until they stay half-lidded and dewy under the carnal scrutiny of your Lord. Megatron grins, a sliver of sharp denta flashing in the lowlights of your habsuite. He takes a final step towards you, a half-shuffle that does well to close the gap between your frames, the air warming from the work of your combined engines. You hope he feels the way your spark races, hope he feels the heat emanating from your core.

“Give me an heir, carry a sparkling of my code and stand beside me as my queen.” With each word, laden with desire until it shows in his optics that drip with lust, Megatron has you against the wall of your habsuite, one servo tracing the sleek edge of your wing.

It’s entirely intoxicating, and against your better judgment and all remaining reason— and mostly because you haven’t had a good, hard frag in ages— you moan.

It’s a soft, angelic sound that barely catches on the audials, but it makes Megatron grin like a shark. You gasp, affronted, optics flickering, “My liege!”

“Have I offended you?” He breathes, and suddenly his mouth is against your neck cables, each word leaving the softest of kisses on your Energon lines. Your resolve nearly crumbles entirely, each brush of his dermas like a shot of high grade to the systems. You sigh, vents hissing, and place one servo on his chassis. Beneath the broad expanse of silver armor, his engines rumble like thunder on the horizon. It makes you pulse with need.

“No.” You whisper, wanting to sing as Megatron kisses the slope of your jaw, then pecks the side of your mouth, agape with shock. He pulls back, the heat of him evaporating as soon as he’s once again standing at his full height. You tremble, not from the cold, but from his absence. 

It’s not something you’d ever given much thought about, your feelings towards your Lord and Master, but it’s something that’s come rushing back. All the suppressed thoughts, the dashed dreams, the impossible futures... They come back to you and leave you weak in the knee joints, cooling fans whirring from the memories of the fantasies you’d entertained when you’d had long midnights alone.

“What say you then?” Megatron’s stare is hard, unshaking and fully serious. He wants to have a sparkling with you, wants you to bear him an heir— He wants you as his queen and equal, to stand beside him and lead the Decepticon cause. The expression on his face is a cross between a wild animal, wanting to ravage you the nanosecond you say Yes, and the warlord with enough resolve and self-restraint to accept if you say No.

It’s all so much at once. Eons of time made up in just a single question. Details and technicalities will have to be conferred over later, as for now you’re content with the conditions as-is.

“Well... You are a handsome mech, my liege.” You reply, teasing him by placing a chaste kiss directly on the Decepticon insignia on his chassis. He doesn’t say anything, only his engine rumbles more audibly. You look up at him and salaciously imply with a coy smirk, “I do believe we’d make a fine clutch of sparklings.”

And then you find yourself swept up into his arms, back struts and wings pressed against the wall, your Lord’s hips slotted perfectly against yours. The more base urges inside you squeal, your Seeker coding nearly overtaking you and having you present to him like a turbofox in heat.

Not one to be outdone, Megatron quips, “And you are quite the striking femme— Shall I ravage you against the wall or your berth?”

You laugh, cut off only when Megatron captures your dermas in his, drowning you in the roughness of a mech starved of Energon. He kisses like he owns the practice and has made it an artform; Dragging your dermas with his, glossa invading your mouth, denta nipping dangerously close to sensitive nodes and wiring. You moan and gasp, coming to the realization that one of your servos grips his wrist and the other is flat against his chassis.

You shutter your optics, reveling in Megatron’s power and dominance, wanting so desperately for him to devour you. The warmth blossoms, spreading throughout your core until you feel charges pulse at your interface panels that have you whimpering.

After what feels like vorns, Megatron parts and your dermas unlock with a metallic pop. Megatron’s mouth ghosts over yours, and he hums as he repeats himself, “Berth or wall, little Seeker?”

“The berth, my liege.” You urge breathlessly, a delighted sound escaping you as Megatron heaves you from the wall and carries you to your desired destination. He isn’t gentle when he deposits you on your berth, doesn’t mind the wings, so you hiss when your back struts connect with the metal beneath you. Megatron manages to keep himself between the smooth metal of your thighs as he hitches one knee up onto the berth.

“I wonder,” Megatron stops to kiss you deeply once more, making your processors spin, “If this is an auspicious position for conception.”

A bite to the dermas stifles your wanton moan. Your Lord may not be fully aware of it yet, but each mention of being sparked, of bearing his heirs, has your more base urges spiraling out of control. While Vos was not populated by many Seekers, the need to breed is more hardwired into the programming than most other frame types. His words act like fuel to the fire.

“O-Oh— I can only hope.” You gasp, your whimpering cries smothered by Megatron’s dermas in yet another bruising, brusque kiss. This time, he lingers, slows down as if he savors the taste of you on his glossa. Your servos grip his shoulders, smoothing along his breadth before your pointed digits grip at the armor panels high on his back. Megatron responds most enjoyably, using one servo to anchor himself above you and the other to caress down your body.

His servo travels from the curve of your waist, talons scratching at your paint, down to the slope of your hip where it rests heavy and warm on the junction of your thigh. He teases the sharp point of his thumb digit on the transformation seam nearest your interface panels, causing you to arch your back struts like a cat. Megatron uses this opportunity to settle a servo on the low of your back struts, where he pinches at the sensitive nodes at the bases of your wings. That makes you cry out, your cooling fans whirring loudly as a charge builds up deep inside you. 

You’ve never been this close to an overload so quickly before, though you’ve had many sleepless nights built up to bring you to this moment. And Megatron proves his expertise in the berth, past rumors and gossip proven to hold more truth than you once thought. 

Your entire frame feels electrified, your lower body feels like it’s on fire, the heat centered gloriously on your interfacing parts. Particularly your valve and anterior node, which feel wet and pulse beneath the panel with each of your sparkbeats.

“You react so gratifyingly.” Megatron purrs, his gravelly drawl like fine high grade on the audials, uncharacteristically sweet and sensual. He glances down at your interface panels, where your glowing transfluid is beginning to seep out along the seams. With a devious grin, Megatron meets your gaze just as he presses his thumb digit to your overheated panel.

“Megatron!” You cry his name, forsaking honorifics, and nearly overloading on the spot. Almost unconsciously, you send a command and your valve panel slides open, revealing your weeping slit and throbbing anterior node. You cry out again when Megatron wastes no time and starts tight, small circles on the sensitive bundle of mesh wire and circuitry.

“Beautiful.” He hums, quickening his pace on your anterior node as he notices sparks fly as your charge builds. You grip his back, claws digging at his silver armor and leaving scratches in his already worn paint. Megatron leans in, steals your dermas in a kiss, keeps circling your wet node, and just as you see warnings for an imminent overload— He stops.

The charge doesn’t die, but it decreases to a staticky tingle, and you part from the kiss, scandalized that he’s prevented your overload. You gape at Megatron, giving him a glare that could rival the World Destroyer’s himself. He only offers you a sly look.

“My liege.” This time you growl the title past grit denta, bucking your hips against your Master’s still servo. He hums, your anger meaning nothing to him, though indulging you by brushing two digits along the transfluid-soaked mesh of your valve. You gasp, optics blowing wide as he pushes them in, mindful of his sharp claws, stretching you wonderfully.

There’s a slight burn at first, pain sensors sending alerts, alleviated as your frame adjusts to accommodate his thick talons. Megatron eases his digits back until they are almost out completely, then sinks them back in. Your knees come up, peds shaking as you hook them behind his back struts.

“Patience, my dear,” Megatron kisses your neck cables, “Is a virtue.”

And like he had your anterior node, he works your valve slowly, steadily building the charge that buzzes all the pleasure centers in your frame. Warnings for an overload screen your vision again, this time your optics flicker as it grows closer. Staccato vents escape your intake, fans skipping cycles and hitching, encouraging Megatron to go faster, digits plunging in and out of your valve with sopping, moist noises. The room smells like interface; the tinny tang of transfluid, the almost-burnt smell of metal-on-metal friction.

You moan, this time a long keen that crackles in your audials, and Megatron responds with the first pleasured sound you’ve heard from him: A low, throaty groan that he practically strangles in his intake like he doesn’t want it to escape.

“M-My liege, plea-please.” You whine, writhing, bucking your hips even as Megatron’s servo relinquishes your wings in order to still them. You sob, systems on the fritz as the charge crackles, your overload closing in due to Megatron’s working servo and digits. He laughs again, the breathy one that you adore, and surprisingly heeds your plea.

“I want you like this when you take my spike.” Megatron hisses, doubling his pace and making you scream. The wet squelch of your mesh grows louder, and with each thrust of his servo, his knuckle joint brushes your throbbing anterior node, whiting out your optics.

“I want you disheveled.” The tyrant presses close to you, tightening the cyclic thrusts of his digits, biting at the base of your neck cables. Your helm lolls to the side, voice crackling in constant whines as you squeeze your optics shut. He growls, sharp denta piercing an Energon line close to your shoulder armor, the pain mixing with pleasure and having you singing.

“I want you desperate.” Megatron snarls like an Earthen beast, the gruffness of his voice matching the hot stretch of your valve. Transfluid soaks the inner seams and mechanisms of your thighs, spilling onto your berth below. Megatron drags his dermas to yours, his glossa hot and heady as he shoves it in your mouth and dominates the kiss. You moan against him, gripping him tight and hearing the sound of metal screech as its torn.

The silver mech groans, low and rough, breaking the kiss and allowing his helm to fall besides yours. To the cables and wires of your neck, he leaves open-mouth kisses, condensation hot from his vents, then pulls himself up to your audials and whispers harshly:

“I want you as mine.”

The last word is punctuated by a hard push of his digits and his thumb squashing your anterior node, and your overload hits you like a system crash. You wail, wings fluttering and hitting the berth with metallic clangs as your body seizes, the charge overtaking your processors. Pleasure like molten lava consumes your frame, transfluid squirting out onto Megatron’s forearm like paint.

The overload lasts eons, like some supernova of a dying star. Your legs lock, armor plating shivering, wings hitched high and scraping against your berth.  Maybe this is what death is, you think illogically, Maybe I’ve joined with the Allspark.

“Beautiful.” Megatron breathes again, his optics glowing in awe, “Positively beautiful.”

It takes a click for your processor to compute what he said, then another for your optics to blink back on. Coolant tears leak out the corners, blurring your vision. Your mouth gapes, dermas damp with condensation, your cooling fans whirring in loud in your audials. The grip you have on Megatron loosens, servos slipping until they fall upon his shoulders.

The charge in your valve mesh and anterior node quivers and bounces, and you realize with a pleasant tremble that Megatron’s digits are still firmly inside you.

“Megatron.” You coo his name, “Megatron.”

He says yours back, like all you’ve done and are doing is exchanging designations in a routine meeting and it reminds you of a time when things were simpler between the two of you. It’s been eons since Megatron’s seen you the way his ruby red optics gaze upon you now, eons more since you’ve felt seen.

War has made you both volatile, too tough and too angry to do anything else but fight, and fight some more. But here, in the privacy of your berth, blanketed by the secrecy of darkness: War can’t touch you. Nothing can.

“How I have yearned for you...” Megatron cups your faceplates, his servo cool against your overheated frame. You smile, still hazy from your overload and the lingering sensation of his other servo very much connected carnally to you, feeling like you’ve overdone yourself on too much high grade. 

A switch flips inside you, the one that reminds you’re no fainting femme, but one that asks and will take regardless. You are a Seeker, after all— It’s in your code to want offspring.

“Give me a sparkling, my Lord.” Even though your voice wavers, it still sounds like an immutable command. The contemplative look on Megatron’s face morphs into the devilish one, and he snarls, removing his digits from your core. A thin line of gooey transfluid stretches between you and his servo, until Megatron brings it to his mouth and his glossa licks along the length of his digits. His optics narrow in as he hums.

“You presume you can command me.” And yet he obeys again, his interface panel unlatching with a hiss. His spike emerges, a long, thick one that fills in sections, ribbed along its length. Glowing transfluid oozes in droplets from its tip, rolling down the underside of his spike. Your jaw drops, both in want and slight alarm— Megatron is a large mech, you should have better anticipated a large spike.

“Know this, dearest: I will take you, ruin you, fill you up until my code takes.” Megatron promises, lining his bobbing spike up with your throbbing valve. He then grabs your hips, propping them up for a better angle. You quiver, writhing on your berth and bracing your servos on his forearms. His armor is hot under your touch, and your claws dig into the smooth of his paint. Then you match his stare, licking your dermas.

“Frag me like you mean it.”

Megatron suddenly thrusts his spike into you and you wail, unforgiving of your smaller stature. The delicate mesh and sensitive wires give and mold around the hot rod of his pulsing length, forming a slick suction around your lover. He groans, easing back then thrusting in with earnest. Your thighs tremble as you take him, each rimmed circlet of his spike passing into you, dragging deliciously on your valve’s walls.

It’s a tight fight, even with being loosened by Megatron’s thick digits. The transformation seams on your hips and thighs stretch, soft whirs and clicks as your frame adjusts to take him. He’s the biggest you’ve ever had, and the strongest too. The power in his hips drives you up the berth, and he pulls you back down.

You can’t meet his thrusts, but you try and buck your hips in time with him, erratic at first. Megatron’s servos are locked on you, guiding you when your movements skip or miss. All the pleasure centers in your frame are alight, charges sparking and fritzing along your circuitry. Another overload builds, a hot, deep bubbling in your core.

With each thrust of his spike, your valve squelches, the mesh slick and hot with transfluid. More drips down your legs, your aft, onto the berth, leaving everything tacky. Megatron hits a particularly sensitive node deep inside you, one you didn’t even know was there, and you keen. Coolant tears prick at your vision again, escaping the corners and rolling off your faceplates. 

“How badly do you want it?” Megatron seethes, and you could mistake his lust for anger. He seizes your neck cables, dangerous talons threatening Energon lines, as he demands, “How badly do you want me?”

“Desperately.” You wheeze, optics whiting out as Megatron squeezes your neck cables just so as he gives you a series of particularly rough thrusts. Your peds tighten on his back, urging him deeper. Your Master vents, harsh and hot, his engine rumbling loud in his chassis.

“You will look...” Megatron chokes on a groan,”... Excellent with a trine at your hip.”

That makes you whine, Seeker coding squealing and preening at the thought. A trine. Three little sparklings just like their carrier. You’d delight in carrying them in your gestation chamber, wanting to see yourself change and swell to accommodate them.

“I want... I want,” Your voice cuts out, broken by a sob, and you can only manage a tight, “I want that!”

“Good.” Megatron pistons his hips like a jackhammer, his rhythm not breaking once. Powerful thrusts meet the wet heat of your core, the tops of his thigh armor clanking loudly against your legs. The overload warnings start appearing once again. Megatron hisses when your valve tightens around his length, and it prompts him to pick up the pace.

“You are so pretty.” He growls, leaning in to recapture your dermas with his. As he kisses, he doubles his speed and the strength behind it. You moan and sob into his mouth, servos gripping him by the back of the helm. His glossa battles with yours, his sharp denta nicking you more than once. Then he switches to kissing you deeply, soulfully, like he’s found salvation in your dermas.

It’s as you’re so viscerally connected to Megatron that the heat in your core reaches a boiling point, the slow-building electricity coming to its peak. Your valve walls spasm, the giving mesh convulsing in the telltale sign of your overload on the horizon.

Somehow accomplishing it, Megatron kisses you deeper, his faceplates flush and hot against yours. A particularly hard grind of his spike on the sensitive nodes of your valve has you gasping into the silver mech’s mouth. Your optics squeeze shut, you feel like your core is about to explode with heat—

Your second overload hits, just as spectacular and wonderful as the first. Electrified charges bounce between the mesh of your valve and Megatron’s throbbing spike, transfluid soaking him and yourself once again. It’s only after your audials tingle that you realize you’ve screamed loudly enough to reset them. Your systems crash, processors overheated and cooling fans hitching and trembling. With a hiss and a long grunt, Megatron follows you over the edge as well.

Warmth blooms in your core, pleasure nodes and receptors picking up the hot liquid feel of Megatron’s transfluid deep inside you. It comes out in spurts, and he rides his overload by continuing to push into you. As your optics come back online, you catch him hunching over you, ceasing his thrusts in favor of pressing as close as he can, spike still weeping transfluid and coating your inside walls.

Megatron hisses and groans, his frame shivering just once as he finishes, lazily bucking his hips thrice to empty himself completely. He doesn’t disengage his spike, leaving it to soften in your overworked valve. You can’t feel your peds, not after the overload you just experienced, and your entire frame shudders when he nips at your neck cables once again.

For a while, he hovers above you, his EM field embracing your frame. Softly, your servos caress his upper back struts, the tips of your digits dancing along his seams. His servos finally release your hips, revealing he’s left shallow dents in your armor. No matter, you’d wear them proudly. 

“Do you have fiber cloths in your refresher?” Megatron asks, breaking the comfortable silence, his vocal processor crackling only slightly. A twitch of the helm is the best “Yes” you can offer, and brutally Megatron parts from you, drawing a soft whimper as his spike and warmth leave you. The thought of sliding your interface panel back on crosses your mind, but your anterior node and valve are still throbbing so tenderly you can’t will yourself to do it.

You hadn’t realized you closed your optics until Megatron’s approaching pedsteps makes you open them again. He stands before your sprawled, ruined frame, a sheer fiber cloth in his servo, reaching to clean you. Silently, he wipes up the glowing transfluid that’s stained your berth, then moves to clean what’s left on your body.

For a long few moments, the sounds of your cooling fans cycling down, wings softly scraping on your berth, and Megatron’s movements fill your habsuite. At some point, you hear the distinct click of Megatron’s interface panel closing and you tilt your helm up to see him putting his spike away. Also distinctly, the slight burn of soreness as Megatron wipes your exposed valve of excess transfluid.

You’d need to wash regardless, but it’s the thought that counts.

“That was...” And you have no words. Your voice sounds distant and far away, like you’re listening to yourself whisper from miles away. Megatron hums to fill your silence, then you hear the muffled sound of the cloth being discarded somewhere in your room.

“May I join you for the night?” Your Lord’s question is far more polite than it needs to be, considering the circumstances, but it’s 

“Of course.” Your answer is quick and sure, marked by the tremendous effort you put in to roll onto your side, even though you still can’t quite feel your legs. You watch Megatron around your berth and sit at your side. He stretches, silver armor plates shifting and whirring back into place, the length of his back struts revealing his hidden Energon lines.

Then he swings his peds up and lays beside you like it’s the most normal action he’s ever done. Though you do have to scoot over until your wings stick out past the edge.

“I would like for this to be a repeated venture,” Megatron teases after he settles himself, “And if you will accept, for this to be continued past a successful newspark creation.”

He glances at you out the corner of his optic, its glow dimmed. You smile.

He’s never been one for grand romantic gestures, never one to speak about softer, kinder things like “love” or “sparkbonding”. It’s unbecoming of him, the Leader of the Decepticons, former gladiator of Kaon, dark Lord and powerful Master. You don’t know if he’d ever pose the actual question, or if it will remain as nebulous, vague riddles and coded phrases for you to decipher and analyze. It isn’t in Lord Megatron’s making to be tender— At least not in the explicit regards.

“I want nothing less for the sire of my offspring.” You reply, your frame curling around the curve of his chassis, servo finding the same spot it always had: Right above his insignia, above his spark. His engine rumbles evenly, the steady drumming could bring you to power down, though you’re kept awake by the pleasant ache between your legs, the chill of the Nemesis, and the pride in bearing your Lord an heir. 

~ * ~ * ~

epilogue

Your berth is too small, much too small, for two Cybertronians attempting to recharge upon it. Megatron keeps an arm wrapped under and around you to prevent you from falling off, your frame halfway atop his. One of your servos rests under your helm, the other lazily traces invisible shapes on his broad chassis. Both of your EM fields mingle, the waves pulsing to each other in rhythm.

Earthen hours have passed since your coupling, and though you’re tired, you find yourself unable to slip into recharge.

“My Lord?” You catch his attention, Megatron optics flickering back as he pulls himself from the onset of recharge. Part of you regrets keeping him awake— Primus only knows how many sleepless nights your leader subjects himself to— and the other part of you quietly marvels at how he was nearly dozing in your arms. What show of trust is as great as that?

“If I am to carry, this means the Decepticon cause loses one of its strongest warriors—” You sigh happily as the warlord shifts so that his servo rubs your wings, tenderly caressing sensitive transformation seams and Energon lines. What more you wanted to say dies on your glossa, too caught up in the tender display of affection your Lord gives you.

“A temporary hindrance.” Megatron rumbles, shuttering his optics once again and stating, “The Decepticons will prevail.”

It falls quiet, fully so for a handful of clicks until you pipe up again.

“... And, we will need protoforms. And transitionary metals and alloys. And start the process of distilling Energon into low-grade, sparkling-safe—”

Megatron silences you with a deep kiss, one that has you purring in delight and cupping his faceplates. He lingers on your dermas for a few beats, his EM field heavy and warm on yours, lulling you closer to recharge. Megatron parts, settling down on his back struts, his frame creaking and hissing air as he relaxes. Then he sighs:

“We will discuss technicalities in the morning.”