#transformers imagines

[pinkanonwrites]

"Oh! That's What That Does?!"

All art by @archie-sunshine

G1 Rumble/ Mechanic Reader - 2400+ Words NSFW, Valveplug, Plug 'N Play, Mild Sparkplay, Accidental Stimulation, Edging, Human Reader, GN Pronouns

Ahh, the inherent eroticism of repairing your machine.~ I've had this one cooking for a while, so I hope you all enjoy! I've also gotten pretty attached to this mechanic Reader, so they'll likely pop up again with other cassettes (and maybe even some other Decepticons!)

NSFW WRITING AND IMAGERY BELOW THE CUT!

“Ey… EY! Careful wit’ dat! It’s touchy!”

“Rumble,” You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You're making this way more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I wouldn't be complainin’ if you'd stop touchin’ all up on bits that don't gotta be touched! Rootin’ around in there like I'm one’a your crappy organic machines!”

Removing your hands from Rumble’s open chest, you tossed them roughly into the air. “Y'know what? Fine. Do it yourself. Better yet, get Frenzy to pull the shrapnel out of your chest. That'll go great.”

You would have slid off of Rumble’s lap and stormed off, if not for his massive servos closing around your wrists with an unexpected delicacy. Your efforts to remove your hands only reinforced his grip, using just enough force to keep you from leaving without crushing your wrists entirely.

“H-Hey, no need ta be so hasty! Look, I’m just steamed cause'a the battle, dat’s all. Frenz’ can't do dis, it's gotta be someone more… dainty. Y’know. Little human hands and all dat.” The harsh glow of his visor had dulled slightly as his gaze cast down to your hands. You rolled your eyes, wrists finally slipping from his grip as you settled back in. 

Dangling wires and sparking shrapnel dotted his open chest cavity, illuminated by the light of his spark chamber. Rumble had staggered off-balance into your workshop whining about the prodding pieces of broken metal keeping him from transforming properly, yet you’d barely managed to get two wires back in place before he started squirming and whingeing and slinging verbal abuse at you.

 Not that you weren't used to it, any interactions with Rumble and Frenzy usually involved some level of bullying. Fortunately, the two cassettes are also incredibly predictable. As soon as you would threaten to take away or withhold what they're asking for, they’d start falling all over themselves with apologies and placations. After all, you may not have been the only mechanic in the area, but you were certainly their favorite.

“Are you going to actually let me work? Or are you going to start yelling at me again?”

“Yellin’? Who's yellin’? Yer the mechanic here, my spark is in your squishy little hands. Do your magic, doc.” He sat back again, servos clutching the edges of your workbench in a show of effort, a genuine attempt to keep them still (or however genuine any show of rule-following from Rumble could be.)

“That's what I thought. Now let me actually fix a few things before you start whining again.” Your gloved hands dipped back into his chest cavity, skirting the edges of his spark chamber to pick away at the bits of loose shrapnel stuck in some of the wires. His frame shuddered, a hiss of steam escaping through his dentae as your knuckles brushed the underside of the spark casing.

“C-Careful,” He said again, with significantly less bite to his tone.

“Does it hurt?”

“Somethin’ like dat.”

“I'll be careful, so let me know if it gets to be too much.” You smoothed a palm down the armor covering his stomach, flinching back when you heard another sharp hiss of steam.

“I’m fine! It's fine! Just… do ya gotta be all on top’a me like dis?”

“I can't reach properly if you're laying down. If you're standing you might keel over on me, and I really don't feel like being squished to death today.” He let out a low grumble as you jacked another cable back into its proper port. “I'll try to be quick, that way you won't have to worry about my ‘human germs’ and you can get outta here. Deal?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just-”

“Be careful. I know.”

And with that you went to work, separating and organizing cables, taping off leaky tubing and removing pieces of scrap metal as gently as you could. Every once in a while Rumble would jerk or twitch beneath your touch, letting out a muffled curse or huff but sparing you from his usual complaints. It was… uncharacteristically quiet, for sure. This was the most extensive repair you'd ever done on him, though, so maybe he was just having surgery jitters.

“Okay, I've gotten most of the shrapnel out. But there's a piece right behind your spark casing.”

“Well? Get it outta there!”

“I'm going to, but I need to get my whole hand in there. I'm warning you now because it's going to be bumping up against your spark casing a lot. I'm going to do my best but you have to tell me if it hurts too much.”

Rumble let out a long, pathetic groan. “Actually doc, maybe you can just leave dat one in there? F-For funsies?”

“Eh?! Rumble, I’m not gonna just ‘leave it in there’! It's gotta come out.”

“Something's gonna come out if you keep proddin’ around in there like dat…”

“What was that?”

“Gh! Nothin’! Don't worry ‘bout it!”

“...Okay. I’m gonna start now. Are you ready?” Rumble only responded with gritted dentae and a tense nod. Working your gloved hand under his spark chamber, you could feel the ambient energy making the hairs on your arm stand on end as you felt for the jagged edge of broken metal. Your glove blocked your view entirely, so you were left blindly groping your way up the metal surface, feeling for anything bent or out of place. When your fingers could no longer reach any further while still avoiding the casing, you slid forward and ducked slightly into Rumble’s open chest, the back of your hand pressing up against the underside of his spark chamber.

CLANG!

You jumped, and if it weren't for Rumble’s arm wrapping around you and almost crushing you into his open chest you may have jostled the sensitive chamber even further. You slid your hand back again, easing off of the reinforced glass, and his grip receded.

“What the hell was that? And what was that clang?”

“I said don't worry ‘bout it!” He hissed, voice glitchy with static. “Everythin’s totally normal, I dunno why you're getting all jumpy ‘bout- MMNGH?!” You moved your hand up again into the same position, and Rumble let out an embarrassingly high whimper. You glanced up at his face, a flush of pink behind the usual grey and beading with coolant… and something clicked.

“Oh my God are you getting off on this?”

“N-No!”

Behind you you heard a sharp snikt, and the sound of pressurizing hydraulics.

“...Maybe?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“H-Hey, don't go gettin’ a big head or nothin’! A bot’s spark chamber is sensitive! Don't go thinkin’ this is cause of your squishy frame or your soft little digits or nothin’!” He seemed to almost shrink in on himself, face plate practically glowing as his shoulders pulled up around his helm. You'd never say it to his face, but he looked surprisingly… small, at this moment. You heaved an exhausted sigh.

“Okay. Okay. I'm going to get this last piece out, alright? It's the last one. And whatever happens while I'm doing that..? It just happens. We won't bring it up again, no need to be embarrassed. Deal?”

“‘Deal?!?’” He squawked, positively scandalized. “How do I know yer not gonna gossip with Frenz’ the next time he's in for a tune-up?”

“Well Frenzy usually never lets me get a word in edgewise, first of all.” You huffed. This was way more than you'd signed up for. “I'm not going to make fun of you, Rumble. Let’s just get you patched up, then you can head home. Okay?”

His mouth was pulled into a tight, wobbly frown as he glanced down at you, choking out a single word. “...Promise?”

“I promise.”

“...Slag. alright, let's get dis over with.” He lolled his head back against the table with a clank, resigning himself to his fate. This time, when your knuckles brushed his spark casing, he couldn’t stifle his soft moan. Your fingers felt further and further up, until almost your entire hand was behind the glass bubble containing his pulsing spark. Finally, you could feel the jagged piece of metal. You wrapped your fingers around it and gave it an experimental tug. It stuck fast, and your hand bumping against Rumble's spark only pulled another surprised moan from him.

“W-Watch it!” He yelped, sounding too fucked-out to come across as actually threatening.

“It's really stuck in there. I'm going to start working it out, so let me know if you need me to stop.”

“Wh… workin’ it out? Whadda ya- ohhh…~” 

With your thumb and forefinger gripping the edge of the broken metal, you began to wiggle it gently back and forth to ease it from the plating and wires around it. Each time you moved the back of your hand rubbed up against the far side of his spark chamber, warmth radiating through your glove as Rumble started to vent more harshly.

“Slag… slag! Don't think it's ever been touched back there before. Feels… feels crazy.” He moaned. The metal of your work table shrieked and crumpled like cardboard under his iron grip, desperate to keep his servos off of himself or, Primus forbid, you. The piece stuck firm, and as you braced your other hand against the outside paneling of his chest to readjust your balance he let out a sharp, staticky yelp. “S-STOP!”

You froze immediately. “Are you okay? What's wrong?”

A few shuddering vents were your only response for a moment, Rumble’s visor lights flickering frantically as he tried to steady himself. “Whooo… Almost blew my top for a second there.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey! Yer the one that told me to tell ya if I need ya to stop! I'll be slagged to the Pit before I let some ‘squishy’ run my charge like dat.”

“...Can I start again? I’m making some progress here.”

“...Y-Yeah. Yeah. Yer good.”

You let out another soft sigh, trying to focus on the rhythmic sktch sktch sktch of metal on metal rather than Rumble’s shivering whines. His vocalizer pitched and warbled with static, attempts to stifle his own words slowly giving way to a deluge of fucked-out babbles.

“Ah! Gh! Ohh, mmnh, stupid little hands feelin’ all- nnh!~ Jus’ get it outta there! Please?”

I’m working on it. You’re doing good, just hang in there.” Your placations only resulted in another desperate moan. After what couldn’t have been more than another thirty seconds or so, he blurted out again.

“Ah! Stop!”

You retracted your hand for a moment, letting Rumble gasp for breath above you in a futile attempt to cool his core. You rubbed at his chest paneling as he shivered beneath you hard enough that you thought bolts were going to start coming undone. Even the paneling you were seated upon was burning up, heat seeping through the fabric of your coveralls. His glowing face plate was slick with coolant. Without thinking, you reached up and swept away a bead of it with your thumb, making him jump.

“H-Hey, quit dat…” He groaned, all bite lost from his tone.

“Rumble… The more you keep stopping me the longer this is going to take.”

“You think I don’t know dat?!” One of his arms draped dramatically over his face. “I’m tryin’! But you just keep pokin’ around in there and it’s all touchy and it’s makin’ me feel like my spike’s gonna burst and I can’t take it anymore!” He sniffled. Could Cybertronians even sniffle? You weren’t sure, but he sounded close to tears.

“Rumble… Have you ever actually edged yourself before?”

“Whu- Whuh? How’s dat any of yer business?”

“I’m just thinking…” You ran a placating hand down his shivering plating. “If you haven’t it can be really overwhelming, and-”

“I can handle it! I-I can!”

“Let me finish. It can be really overwhelming, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself further. Just… take a deep breath for me, okay?” You took a slow, steadying breath, and after a second he mimicked it. “Good. Just think about letting go, okay? I’m not going to judge you. Just think about it.”

He let out a low, pitying grumble, peeking at you from behind his arm plating. “...You can start again.”

Once again, your hands dipped into his chest cavity. Only this time you slid both hands up behind his spark casing, gripping as much of the broken metal as you could reach. As you rocked it back and forth Rumble’s moans returned with a fervor, one servo finally flying to cup your lower back.

“Ah! Ah! Slag, oh slag please! Please don’t stop I’m so fraggin’ close.” He fisted the back of your uniform, crumpling the cheap fabric between his digits. “C’mon, c’mon c’mon c’mon I need it!”

“Shh, I’ve got you baby. Just let it happen.”

With a metallic shriek and a gush of brackish oil the shrapnel popped free, the force enough to send you sprawling if not for Rumble’s servo in the small of your back. Of course, said unexpected force also slammed the backs of both your hands right into the underside of his spark chamber, and Rumble’s voice box screeched into a wail of radio static. Something hot and sticky splattered up the back of your coveralls; said something you decidedly were not going to look at until later. His frame rattled and shivered beneath you, steam venting and joints glitching and spark pulsating a near-blinding glow.  Finally, after a burst of noise and sparks and twitching, he went slack beneath you, helm clanking against the workbench as his optics flickered.

As delicately as you could, you removed the oil-slick shrapnel and let it clatter onto the floor before shedding your gloves and dabbing at his face plate with the cuff of your sleeve. With the whir of an old monitor blipping back to life, his visor blinked back up to its standard brightness.

“Whuh… Wheh?” He garbled.

“How you feeling, hun?”

“Like I got struck by lightnin’... but in like a nasty way.”

You choked back a snort. “Well, I’ve got all the worst of it over with. Feel free to rest for a while if you need it. I’m gonna go change my jumpsuit.” 

He let you slide off his lap without a fight, not even commenting until you’d turned around to make your way over to your office. Only then did he let out a low, salacious whistle when he’d finally caught sight of the back of your uniform.

“Comm me next time yer free, doc. Then I can repay da favor.”

[aceofheartsssss]

What I want for Christmas 😏

like or rb if u agree ig.

[bird-in-the-space]

The Mysterious Painter being Alchemist Prime's Apprentice

If you had been reborn in the time of the primes, and Alchemist Prime took you in as his apprentice.

(Author's note: This was something that has been on my mind, and I took some inspiration from Citlali's story quest)

Warnings: none much, some mentions of the caste system, and some doubting your art skills.

-----------------------------------------------------

- Imagine being reborn at the time when the thirteen primes still existed on Cybertron. The society still lived in a mild kind of caste system, but this time it would not be so serious with the existence of the primes. You were still forced to learn proper survival skills so you wouldn’t end up angering the wrong person, but this time you painted more openly. 

- Your art skills were admired all across Cybertron, even though your art, name, and interest in organic lifeforms were considered odd.

- You respected all the primes and their dominions. You found them and their unique existence fascinating as they were Primus’s first creations. However, even they seemed too busy to notice the hardships of the less fortunate. You understood that their positions and duties were not something they could not ignore, so you never saw them in a negative light for it. 

- Your life was good. But then, one day, you found a container holding a strange liquid. You tried to return it, but since its origins were unknown, you were told to keep it or throw it away. 

- You did not know what to do with it until you got home and accidentally spilled a drop into one of your freshly painted artworks while inspecting it. It did something mysterious as it made your paint shine and materialize the painting into the actual thing. It was magical and strange at the same time. 

- You figured out it was some kind of chemical compound like an alchemy potion. It most likely belonged to Alchemist Prime as he was known for his mystical experiments with elements and materials. How it got misplaced, you did not know. 

- Your conscience said to return it as it was probably valuable, but seeing your painting come to life made you want to see what else you could do with it. Maybe you could borrow just a little to sate your curiosity. 

- For the next few days, you mixed the liquid with different paint colors and saw what happened. You did not expect much but your experimenting resulted in many curious outcomes. You even mixed some colors together and painted on different surfaces to see what would happen. 

- Alchemist Prime eventually left his home to look for the container as the liquid inside was an important alchemy compound. He wasn’t certain how it got misplaced or fell during the transport, but luckily, he had ways to locate it. He could have asked some of his people to bring him more, but unfortunately, the compound was not something that was easily found. 

- While looking for it, he would ramble on his thoughts. His brethren had been asking if he would take an apprentice soon like they had. He had considered it but so far no cybertronian had shown similar fascination for alchemy like he did, or that they just did not feel right to him. It was honestly a hassle. 

- He once even doubted he would ever find the right apprentice, and then he started having visions. He envisioned colors, many different and marvelous colors. He was not certain at first what those visions meant, but then he figured out that whoever was to become his apprentice had connections to colors. 

- He would then be surprised by finding traces of the liquid in small flowers growing on the street walls. He was puzzled as organic flora did not usually grow below Cybertron's surface and these flowers looked unusual. The colors were vibrant and the petals looked like they were made from some kind of liquid. Alchemist touched the flower petals and found paint smearing his finger. This made him curious. It was now clear someone had found his compound and used it in a very peculiar way. 

- He would then follow the traces to you, finding you using it as a mixture of paint to make more flowers on the ground. He would then see the paintings come to life. He looked around and found the secluded alley filled with different varieties of these flowers. It was lovely and Alchemist was filled with excited intrigue. Not many ordinary cybertronians knew how to manipulate the elements of his field and he had never seen any of them used this way. 

- He then looked at you, sensing something different about your spark, but seeing you made him realize you were the apprentice the visions spoke about. Colors were connected to art so it was you. 

- Alchemist would excitedly show himself, startling you as you knew who he was and then realize you had gotten so lost in the art experiments that you had completely forgotten to return the container. 

- You apologized for taking it, but he brushed it casually and asked how you managed to use his compound to bring your art to life. You then relaxed and explained how you mixed the liquid with different paint colors, finding different results.

-  Alchemist was surprisingly easygoing, and he listened to everything you said with keen interest. 

- He then complimented your art, and then, out of the blue, he asked if you wanted to become his apprentice. 

- He claimed you had a natural curiosity and talent for alchemy, so it would be a wasted opportunity for him to not give an invitation. He could sense that your spark was different compared to other cybertronians, and he would like to see your skills in the art flourish even further. 

- It was a golden opportunity, and you had always found his mystical arts fascinating so you accepted. And that is how you became Alchemist Prime’s apprentice. 

- He was a patient and a good teacher. You listened to his lectures well and felt comfortable learning at your own pace. He encouraged your interest in researching and finding ways to enhance your paint, giving them qualities and abilities to do things ordinary paint can’t – such as materializing things into existence, controlling elements, and making a color that would stay vibrant for eons. 

- He was like that one cheerful uncle and when you showed him the new paint mixtures and their unique capabilities he would marvel at them with joy and pride. 

- As his apprentice, you had the chance to meet the other primes, which was an exciting experience and you befriended bots who were mentored by them. Alchemist encouraged this as it was always good to be surrounded by friends. 

- With Alchemist, there was never a boring day. Though he sometimes had little accidents with his experiments and something blew up, you would always laugh about it. Trial and error were natural parts of creating something. 

- You did not forget your passion, continuing painting and making many art pieces. You would remain humble and decline invitations from high-class bots when they found out a renowned artist such as yourself had become a prime’s apprentice. You did not want your art to be appreciated by a single group. It was something you wanted all to enjoy and find inspiration. 

- You would utilize your newfound abilities to help many bots who had it rough. Your kindness would touch the sparks of many and the art of painting would inspire new artists which delighted you. 

- There was one painting opportunity you accepted. Alchemist asked if you would like to paint the thirteen primes in a historical moment on a great wall. Due to the respect you held for him and his brethren, you accepted even though you felt slight pressure. Painting such respectable figures was something that had little room for errors, so you needed to pull this off perfectly. 

- You worked hard for many cycles, painting every detail and refining the colors. Some doubted you could make a wall painting great enough to capture the power and magnificence of the primes, but you were not deterred. However, the painting did lack the life that captured those features, so you decided to try something new to achieve that. 

- You created a new type of paint. It was something you had been working on before the start of your great project, but this time you decided to finish it and bring new life to the painting of the primes. It took many cycles to perfect it, as it required spiritual involvement, but you finally succeeded and it was time to use it. 

- You felt a little doubt and hesitation to use it because if something went wrong then the whole project would be ruined. But with Alchemist’s reassurance, you used it and finished the painting. 

- Everyone then watched as you used your abilities to activate the paint, making the great painting glow with marvelous colors. The bots and primes were enraptured by the beauty and life your mixture brought to the painting. You were glad that the paint worked and that the artwork had the life and magnificence it deserved. 

- Alchemist smacked your shoulder with a proud laugh, saying you had outdone yourself. 

- You received many compliments and the painting of the primes became one of your greatest works. 

- When you finished your training and Alchemist had nothing left to teach you, he gifted you a special paintbrush, especially made for you. It granted you the ability to manipulate your paint and colors at will, allowing you to utilize all your abilities with a single dip of the brush. It was a mystical gift— like you had your own magic wand. You made sure to promise you would use it wisely and only for good. 

- Alchemist had no doubts in your words. He knew the gentle nature of your spark, thus he did not feel hesitant to gift you such an item. 

- As time passed, you would come to be known as the legendary painter. Many bots would still wonder about the secrets of your paints and not come even close to discovering the elements and techniques you used. Your marvelous paintings would still exist even after hundreds of years--- even after the thirteen primes ceased from existence. What became of you was everyone’s guess. Some say you disappeared when the war arrived or that you left Cybertron to seek more inspiration or undiscovered colors. No one really knows. 

[screamingseeker]

Can you do some headcanons of optimus x human s/o romantic moments?

♡ I've said this before and I'll say it again: Optimus translates his favorite texts for you himself. He'll take the time to translate it into your first language, whatever it may be. He wants to share this side of himself with you and only you.

♡ He'll send you love poems he translate with nothing else added to them because he gets embarrassed far too easily when it comes to you, but when you respond well to them, he'll keep doing it with little notes attached.

♡ "I was reading this morning and this made me think of you."

♡ "I never understood what this poem meant until I met you."

♡ "I hope this brightens your day, my love."

♡ And if you start finding the poems seem oddly specific to you, well, you keep Optimus's hidden talent to yourself.

♡ Optimus doesn't claim to know much about human music, but he plays the most beautiful songs from every era while you two are on the road. Once, you sang along to one of the songs you knew and it's now one of his most treasured memories. He makes a list of every song you sing to so he can play them again, just to hear your voice.

♡ Optimus loves rain so if you two happen to be outside when it starts raining, he'll find somewhere you can both be sheltered and hold you close while you two watch the rain pour down.

♡ He doesn't let it show, but he's very anxious about hurting you on accident. He would never forgive himself if he did, even if you forgave him. So when he learns mass displacement can drastically reduce the risk and allow him be closer to you, he's eager to try.

♡ At ten feet, he's still a giant compared to you, but he's amazed that he can hold your hand and kiss you properly without the use of a holoform.

♡ And when you cuddle him while he's mass displaced, he'll never be the same again.

♡ He has nicknames for you, but saves them for when you're alone. He mostly uses human terms as he finds them much more endearing.

♡ "Dearest" is his favorite.

[till-all-are-fuck]

*walking through a packed parking lot*

"Optimus prime is boring."

*nothing happens*

"Megatron is a bitch."

*Nothing happens*

"....Sentinel prime did nothing wrong."

*multiple angry transformation noises*

[migrated-to-diff-account]

Hiyya! I'd like to request a TFP Optimus x Human female reader. I have a headcanon that I believe Optimus has a breeding kink from the Matrix of Leadership, coded to mate. Both get very heated when his urge to mate starts to show and the reader is all on board to chase his pleasure. In which Optimus praises a lot to them. I crave connection between characters that care and have a bond with one another, if possible.

You can change and edit whatever is to your liking as well. Thank you for your time and have a pleasant day. ✨

TFP Optimus x human!fem!reader

oh man oh man optimus prime and breeding is one of my favourite combos!! thank you for being my first request ever btw, it was a pleasure to write this for you

Synopsis: Optimus Prime has urges, urges that can only be satisfied by breeding you.

Warnings: NSFW, breeding kink.

Word count: 1608

To say that this is pure torture is an understatement of the century. He thought he could hold off but seeing you in practically nothing prancing around the base on a hot day is driving him insane. He tried his best to contain his composure throughout the day around the other members of his team, but his spark is thrumming so intensely that it’s becoming borderline painful.

He knows that you can sense it. He knows that you purposely came to the base in a little sundress that barely, oh so barley, covered your soft thighs. He noticed that way that when you would bend over, you would purposely brush the fabric behind you aside so he could bare witness to your increasing arousal. His frame would stiffen up and his Matrix would send a shock of electricity to his spark, indicating that he needs to mate.

And he needs to do it today.

-

Later in the afternoon, the base’s activities became quieter. The other Autobots were either in recharge, patrol or hunched over the main computer. The other humans had gone home, save for you. You were sprawled out on the human couch watching one of your favourite shows, your dress still just barely covering you. Optimus walks over and promptly scoops up his human saying nothing. You let him do so, knowing that you were in for it.

Ratchet had watched his leader walk off down the corridor with his human, he rolls his eyes and mutes his audials, not wanting to hear them again for the third time this week. And its only Tuesday, he thought, returning to his work.

-

He takes you to his private berth room, laying down and setting you close to his helm so that you were face to face with the prime.

“Was it your intention today to wear such small human fabric?” Optimus pokes and pulls at the dress, eager to rip it off you. You grin at him.

“I guess you could say that.” You allow his request to take the dress off, throwing it to the side, “I knew you’d like it.”

 The sight of your plump breasts and soft tummy right in front of his face makes his spike throb with such intensity and yearning. He groans and lifts you up to his dermas, setting you down so he can pleasure you with his glossa.

“What do you need, Optimus.” You moan at the feeling of him mouthing at your still clothed pussy. Wanting to feel more, you lift yourself up slightly and pull down your underwear. He pulls you back down to his intake after you do so. He needs to prep you first so you can take his spike so he can properly breed you.

He licks a stripe up your folds, relishing the pheromones that are emitting from you. He wraps his mouth around your clit and sucks. You throw your head back and place a hand behind you on his chin, shaking and jolting at the feeling of Optimus eating you out. He hums as he lifts you up slightly so he can give you an answer. He is absolutely covered in your juices, leaving a small string connecting from your pussy to his dermas.

“I need...I need to breed you.” He huffs, his hot breath over your pussy making you squirm. He massages your thighs, earning a soft moan from you. His spike is throbbing, aching to be plunged into you. Aching to breed you and fill you up with his trans fluids. He can picture it in his processor, your soft stomach distended and filled to the brim with his sparkling’s. A bolt of electricity shoots up his back strut at the thought.

You lean down and place a gentle kiss in-between his optics, “I will gladly help with that.”

Optimus’s spark is thrumming so very loud now, he is sure that you can feel it. You crawl down near his interface panel, and he opens it with no hesitation. His spike is so large, but he knows from all the previous times he’s fucked you that you can take it. He once offered to mass displace it, but you denied the request. You wanted to feel him stretch you and its safe to say that Optimus feels the same way.

You drag your tongue up Optimus’s spike, relishing the feeling of his spike twitching. You can see how his thighs begin to shake slightly. He places a servo on the side of your face, gently caressing your cheek as you begin to take his spike in your mouth. The moan that leaves his mouth is borderline pornographic.

You bobbed your head up and down as much as you could, attempting to give him as much pleasure with your mouth as you can muster. Your tongue rolls around the tip of his spike while you give him a hard suck. Optimus grips your head as you do so, fighting the urge to push your mouth down to the base. He praises you in the middle of his moans and groans.

“Sweet spark, you’re doing amazingly…” His hips shutter as you pull you mouth of him with a pop, pressing kisses to his tip and down the length of his spike. You look up at him with those gorgeous innocent eyes. If the matrix would allow him, he would’ve cum just from your look alone. But he must wait until he is deep within you.

Optimus carefully lifts you up and flips around so you are the one now lying on his berth, hovering over top of you. He kisses you with intensity, glossa moving past your lips and tangling with your tongue. You can taste yourself on his dermas. He moves to kissing your jaw line, then down your neck, licking and sucking on the delicate skin. The perfume you wear leaves a tingling sensation on his glossa, but that doesn’t stop him from properly marking you as his.

He moves downward, marking your breasts. He shivers as he knows that these will be used to feed and nourish his future sparkling’s. You moan at the feeling of his glossa.

“Optimus,” You squirm under him, “Please… please please please.”

He looks at you. Your hair is in a mess, flushed cheeks and sweat beading on your forehead. You are worked up to the point of begging, this is exactly what he wanted. He gives you a small smile.

“Yes, my love, I hear you.” He chuckles as he watches you bring your legs up to your chest to present yourself to him, sending another jolt to his back strut. He lines his spike up with your pussy, a breathy moan escaping from him. He slowly, ever so slowly pushes himself into you. Your legs shutter as you engulf him, being stretched beyond the human body’s limits. A low groan emits from him as he can feel your walls fluttering around him.

“Primus…” He vents, holding onto the side of your hips. “You’re so tight…”

He moves his hips back and plunged into you again. You cry out in pleasure, not even bothering to silence yourself as you feel his spike abusing your cervix. “Optimus!!”

Optimus’s focus is on your face, contorted in pleasure and ecstasy. Primus, he loves this. He leans down to the side of your face, giving you a kiss on the cheek as he fucks you within an inch of your life. You will be bred, no matter how long it takes, his human mate will bear the primes sparkling’s.

“You’re doing amazing,” Optimus whispers into your ear, voice straining. “Do you wish for me to impregnate you?”

You eagerly nod, crying out as he gives you a particularly harsh thrust, the knot in your stomach becoming more unbearable. “Yes, Optimus! I need you to fill me, please!”

Your cries make his spike throb.

“Primus, you will look so beautiful. Full of my sparkling’s.” Optimus is thrusting into your pussy, eager to relive himself deep inside you. He presses his helm to your head, “You will be a wonderful carrier, my love.”

His thrusts become more and more sporadic as he nears his release, moaning into your ears, letting you know how much pleasure you have given him. You cry out as he presses himself right to the hilt, becoming undone and cumming hard on his spike. His hips shutter as he releases his trans fluids deep inside of you. His grip on your hips is hard as he feels you clench around his spike.

His trans fluids are hot and sticky, drops threatening to spill out of your tight hole. You whimper and whine as he gently caresses your now bulging stomach. He places a kiss upon your lips to mute your cries, you kiss him back eagerly.

Optimus vented; the matrix of leadership is satisfied for now. But he knows that you must be bred multiple times for his urges to lessen. He gently scoops you into his arm and flips around so he is laying down and you are sitting on his spike, you whimper as you feel his spike shift around. His spike keeps his trans fluids contained within you, ensuring that not a single drop spills from you.

You lay on his chassis as he rubs your back soothingly with a servo. You clench around him in a way to return the affection, “I love you, Optimus.”

Optimus hums, “I love you too, with all of my spark.”

He watches you drift off to sleep with a smile, knowing that tomorrow you will be bred again and again.

[ratchetsboyfriend]

Welcome back to transformers fanfic (I found your blog during your hiatus, and I love your older work). Since requests are open, could you possibly write some soft MTMTE Drift headcannons of him watching a movie with a human reader? I’ve been a bit down recently, so I would really appreciate it.

Drift is willing to watch all of your favorites, even if he doesn't quite see the same appeal in them that you do. Depending on what your comfort movies are, he's gonna react differently. 

He's not sure why a brutal horror movie would be comforting, especially if you spend half of it cringing and hiding behind your hands, but hey if it floats your boat. Comedies aren't a bad choice to watch with him, some jokes don't land as well without the context of having lived on Earth, but some things are universally funny so he enjoys them enough even if some of the humor is… questionable. If you watch some of the more heart wrenching romantic movies he gets fairly invested, but the cheesy one's he'll good-naturedly tease you for liking even if he did enjoy some of them himself. Intense, dramatic movies that feature journeys of self-discovery and have more open endings are a particular favorite of his if you happen to put them on.

To ensure the best possible viewing experience, he sets up a projector in his hab suite so you can enjoy a more private viewing. There are movie nights for the whole crew but they can get pretty rowdy and that's not the kind of evening you two are looking for. More than one movie night has ended in a brawl.

His berth is lined with a plethora of cushions and blankets that have been sourced from various planets you've visited. Drift has plenty of money and he's more than happy to splurge on creature comforts like these and it's nice to go shopping for them together. He's also spared no expense on getting your favorite treats for the night, regardless of how much effort it took to source them. The way you light up when he presents them to you is worth every penny.

Whether you start out the night sitting next to him in a heap of blankets or nestled in his lap surrounded by pillows, you will end up sprawled across his chest by the end of the night. He lays out plenty of your soft cushions and blankets atop himself so that you can maintain maximum comfort while cuddling against his much harder frame. It's hard not to fall asleep like that in the middle of the movie since he'll absent-mindedly start stroking your back.

He doesn't mind talking during movies and will happily discuss the plot as it's happening, but if you're too focused on the story to speak he's just as good with silent viewing. He's particularly fond of when you get excited and point out your favorite scenes, making sure to pay special attention to those parts of the movie.

If you want to make watching movies together a regular occurrence, he'd agree immediately and would be delighted to help you pick what to watch in the future. Rewatching movies you've seen before or finding something new to view are both fine with him, it's spending quality time together that's important.

[de-vee-l]

So, you sure know how in most cartoons humans have only 1 outfit for all times? So in Transformers Cybertronians don’t really get to see them change

I wonder if Cybertronians even understand the concept of clothing or do they just think it’s human’s natural coloring? Will they get traumatized if they ever see a human peel off their armor and put on a new one?

I like to imagine a bit more fashion-centered OC that arrives at the base in a new outfit every time and they are just “why you rescan your design so often???”

[sxilor-1010]

Yule Log

Words: 1074

☾★☾★☾★

Getting caught up in work, it’s easy to forget to have time for yourself, especially during the holidays. She’s heard a lot of concerns and reminders from her coworkers, and all of them went by her head saying she’s “relaxed a bit.”

It was her day off, and she had been fighting off the urge to work through celebrating Christmas. Or, in her case, Yule. Now, she wouldn’t say she was a witch. She liked magic, but magic in a world full of technology isn’t known too much.

Why do magic when you have many robots already doing stuff for you? Well for starters, they don’t know how to make a proper Yule log. Which is exactly what Emilyn is doing to celebrate her day off.

Sure she had to go some shopping for some of the things needed, but a little shopping never hurt her. Her table was dawned in bright red plaid, courtesy of Djenne and its amazing fabrics, with a fresh wooden log and other things.

Emilyn hummed to herself, holding a knife as she approached the table. With the log in her hands, she began to carefully carve holes big enough for the candles to fit. The wood emanated a nice scent, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes to admire it all. Her mouth moved on its own, just mumbling a song she remembered hearing while scrolling through YouTube earlier.

“God rest ye merry, pagan folk,

Let nothing you dismay.

Remember that the Sun returns

Upon this Solstice day.

The growing dark is ending now

And Spring is on its way.

Oh, tidings of comfort and joy,

Comfort and joy!

Oh, tidings of comfort and joy…”

Before Emilyn could continue singing, the distant noises of an aerial jet had caught the wind in her ears. Her hands stopped carving and she opened her eyes, looking towards a nearby window to see a familiar face smirk at her. “I didn’t think you’d stop by today, Starscream.” Emilyn approached the window, opening it to look at his face.

“My plans haven’t been the greatest this year, and I’m tired. What better way to relax than to accompany my little moon~?” He said slyly, Emilyn blushing just a bit as he moved a digit to caress her cheek. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood to handle your flirts. Might as well come in.” Starscream smirked, drawing back his digit and walking to her door. Emilyn closed her window and opened the door, the Decepticon now mass displaced.

It wouldn’t be long before Starscream took notice of Emilyn’s little project, and he walked over with curiosity. “What are you making here?” Emilyn turned, smiling just a little bit before taking a seat back down. “It’s a yule log, just something to celebrate for this year…” Her words slightly drifted when turning to face Starscream, confusion glinted slightly in his crimson optics. “Oh, right… You’re probably not aware of Yule or Christmas, huh?”

“No, I’m not. Perhaps you can give me some insight later…” The Decepticon spoke, grabbing a chair of his own to sit next to Emilyn. She chuckled, keeping that as a mental note in the back of her mind. “Alright well, you can watch what I’m doing if you want. Up to you.” With that, Emilyn got back to carving, and Starscream watched intently, curiosity soon drifting towards the other items around her. There were a few candles, greenery branches of pine and cedar, not to mention dried fruits and pinecones.

“Quite the inventory of primitive materials, but what does one do with all of this?” Starscream spoke, plucking a pine branch in between his fingers to get a feel. Emilyn turned towards him, grabbing that branch and placing it back into the nearby pile. “You decorate this log, and supposedly it brings good luck and warmth to those who light the candles. It also wards off bad energy from harming you.” Ah, superstitious stuff. He should’ve guessed. “Peh, superstitious and magical nonsense. Humans are weird.”

That was enough to have Emilyn frown at Starscream, who laughed and smirked. “Well, not nonsense to you, my dear.” She rolled her eyes, grabbing the nearby hot glue gun and the pine branch he was fiddling with earlier. “Does magic not exist as a concept to you guys?” She turned to face Starscream, who placed a couple of digits on his chin in thought. “Not as much as you’d like to think. It exists in concept, but it was never said to be shown.” Huh, so it did exist in some way at least.

“That makes sense, given you and the Autobots are from a planet of metal, right?” Starscream nodded, albeit frowned a bit at the mention of the Autobots. “Magic can’t exist in a place that has metal, or iron. One of the two.” Emilyn spoke, Starscream watching carefully with curious optics as she glued the various nature pieces she had gathered onto the log. “I like to believe that even within today’s times, there’s still magic in this world. Hell, there might be pixies and fairies dancing outside my house right now and I wouldn’t even know it.”

Starscream looked in quiet awe seeing the once naked log now adorned in pine branches and dried fruits, not to mention the interesting scent it gave off. It surely was something magical, but it felt like something was also missing. Luckily, Emilyn was just about to get to that when grabbing ahold of the long candles. “Alright, I’m gonna need your help on this one. You’re gonna hold these perfectly still while I add glue onto the bottom.” The Decepticon looked in confusion but grabbed one of the candles nonetheless. It felt waxy amongst his digits, but it was a nice shade of red. He watched as Emilyn took the glue gun, adding a nice warm dollop to the bottom.

“What do you do once you’re done with this… ‘yule log’?” He asked curiously, Emilyn moving the glue gun away to glue the sides of the holes she carved out earlier. “Well, you just kinda leave it somewhere nice to burn until the end of Christmas. There’s not much else to it.” He nods, Emilyn taking the candle and placing it on the far right. “Only two more and then we’re done.”

“Maybe after we’re finished, I can explain Yule to you.” Hearing that, Starscream smirked lightly and chuckled.

He’d appreciate that very much.

[faithiegirl01]

Guys!! I need help!!

There’s a 2018 Bumblebee fanfic floating around out there somewhere that I adore, but can not find.

Basically bumblebee and reader fall in love (if I remember correctly…) but they both think they can’t be together because of being different. However bumblebee ends up getting his holo form so he goes to the readers school and surprises them. At first the read doesn’t recognize him obviously, but then he tells her “it’s me bee,” I think or at least something like that.

I do know whoever wrote it had an edited picture of Dylan as his holoform so if that helps you guys awesome. Please please please help me find it, I’m dying to read it again, but can’t find it.

[space-payacho]

a lost light liason with makima vibes would be a mess

[pinkanonwrites]

HANDS-ON LEARNING

Read 'Handle With Care' here!

Rodimus/Human Reader, NSFW, First Contact AU, AFAB Reader, GN Pronouns, G/T, Experimental Sex, Fingering, Oral (Receiving)

Since this is a First Contact fic, dialogue that is both bold and italicized are words that both the reader and Rodimus understand.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

Of all the ideas you'd had over the course of your life, this had to be one of the worst.

Granted, it wasn't as bad as trying to follow the blinking light into the woods after your car broke down, only to end up abducted by aliens. But it was pretty high up there.

But between said abduction and your ensuing rescue by the gigantic alien robots and the spaceship they called home, you hadn't exactly had a lot of time to yourself. And after days melted into weeks and you eventually began to lose track of how long it had been since you had been plucked from Earth, you were starting to get a little… wound up.

Most days were spent in between the massive metal fingers of a robot that you were pretty sure was named Rodimus as he shuttled you from room to room and presented you to his fellow crew members like a first-grader showing off their new pet hamster. But despite the glaring communication barrier and the ever-present threat of being squashed under foot, Rodimus was very careful with you. He made sure you were safe and comfortable, never picked you up without letting you know ahead of time, and did his best to communicate simple thoughts and ideas with you through hilarious, size-difference charades. It could be a little awkward sometimes, but he was nice! It was nice.

And then, about a week ago, Rodimus accidentally made you cum so hard you almost blacked out. And you couldn't stop thinking about it.

But honestly, how were you supposed to stop thinking about it? Sure, it was an accident, (or you were pretty sure it was, at least. Giant robot charades isn't always a perfect system) but it was an accident that refused to leave your mind. When Rodimus would lay on his big slab of metal to sleep, or recharge his batteries, or whatever it was that giant robots did at bedtime, you'd be lying awake in the little habitat he'd built for you out of his desk craving the sensation of sitting on the world's best and most attentive washing machine and letting the vibrations spark stars behind your eyelids.

So maybe it was a bit stupid, and horny, and frankly desperate to search out that feeling again from a guy four times your size who could crush you in his hand like a grape if he ever wanted to. But God damn if it wouldn't be worth it.

So that's how you found yourself in the position you are now. Naked, sprawled back against the surface of the desk with one of Rodimus's massive hands cradling your upper body, and a giant finger from the other tracing up the inner curve of your thigh. He seemed almost enchanted by the way your goosebumps rippled to the surface beneath his touch, letting out a pleased, mechanical warble.

He seemed to adore your softness compared to the rigid metal of his own skin, as Rodimus liked to squish you quite a bit. Never enough to hurt, just enough to feel the warm press of your skin between the joints of his fingers and hands, or to drag a curious fingertip down your cheek. But there was a particular meekness with the way he touched you right now, like he was only just realizing how easy it would be for him to hurt you. It was painfully sweet, and if you weren't absolutely aching for something more right now you may have been content to let him continue his gentle fondling.

"C'mon, big guy." You murmured instead, resting your hand around his wrist and pulling him up closer to the apex of your thighs. He let out a soft, surprised revving sound at your boldness, glancing at your face a few times before finally pressing the top of his finger up between your thighs, lying flush against your folds. If you had to compare the sensation, you'd say the feeling of leaning a little too far forward on a motorcycle seat was similar. It was warm, rumbling, pressing up against all the right places, but not quite enough to get you anywhere you really wanted. Still, you couldn't stifle your shaky moan, and that seemed to really get him going.

"Yes?..." He all but purred, one of the few words you had actually managed to learn between the two of you. The pointed chevron of his brow seemed to quirk up a bit on one side as he glanced down at his thick finger between your legs before back up to your gaze.

"Yes. It's good, I just… want more." You knew he couldn't understand your words, but the slow roll of your hips and the slick coating of your arousal over his knuckle seemed to get the message across just fine. He rocked his finger up against you, wet with your drooling heat as the jut of the joint slid up and over your clit again, and again, and again. Still slow, yes, but almost painfully good. Your hips jerked towards the sensation and he cooed, engine rumbling louder to course vibrations up through your aching cunt.

He murmured your name, or the best that he could approximate in his echoey, mechanical trill. From the hand cradling your upper body his massive thumb slid forward, dragging along the curve of your jaw and down to the jut of your collarbone with a delicate curiosity. Panting, you let yourself melt into his touch, rolling your hips against his other hand and shuddering at every other press that seemed to hit just the right spot. Fuck, this was good. Better than good, you felt like your brain was going to melt out of your ears, molten heat pooling low in your stomach as a pleasant buzz of arousal seemed to crawl through your muscles and out to the tips of your fingers and toes. It was probably way too early to be cumming, but you'd been pent-up for far too long already and the relentless vibrations only pushed you higher and higher, a rubber band threatening to snap as you gasped and shuddered and tossed your head back against Rodimus's enormous metal palm.

It was all you could do to keep your feet from kicking out as your orgasm washed over you, the aching clench of your cunt around nothing making you whine as his fingers slowed to a lazy, comfortable stroking. You blinked blearily up at him, a look of incredibly sly pride on his face as you went limp and content in his palm.

"Fuck, Rodimus." You groaned. It startled you, the sheer volume of his engine's snarl in response to your simple, fucked-out sigh of his name. But more surprising was the sudden press of two blunt fingers against your messy hole, slippery with your own arousal as they tried to work their way into you. "W-Wait! Rodimus, fuck, it's not gonna fi-MMGH!?"

With a wet pop, the tips of his two massive fingers slipped into your still-twitching cunt, stretching you wider than you'd ever been before. Even one of his fingers was more than big enough for you, but he somehow fit two? Your entire body trembled as you flopped back, slave to the impossible stretch and press of unrelenting metal against your most sensitive spots. Whimpers and groans were forced from your body with each minute flex and press of his fingers deeper, deeper, scraping spots you could never reach with your own two hands and stuffing you so full you felt like you couldn't breathe in properly. The heat that had only just receded was building again, impossibly quick, a tingling jolt underneath your skin that made the muscles of your legs twitch and kick outside of your own control as your mind struggled between spearing yourself further on this impossible stretch or wriggling helplessly away.

He was talking again, an incomprehensible clutter of mechanized boops and whirrs that you only barely managed to process in your pleasure-drunk mind. Then, with a sudden rush of motion and swoop of your stomach with the G-force, you were cradled off of the table with his free hand and held up to his face. There was a glow to his cheeks, a bead of liquid trailing down the side of his helmet as he gazed down at you. Robots could blush? And sweat? Apparently this one could, a gush of warm heat rolling over your body as he huffed, mouth hanging slightly open. Behind his giant teeth you could see a peek of a silver-grey tongue, a rippling smooth expanse of rubber and metal-mesh that crept towards you until Rodimus dragged it oh-so-carefully up the length of your cunt.

"FUCK!" You wailed, hands scrabbling for purchase against the joints and bends of Rodimus's hand as he swept his massive tongue between your folds. He let out a low, growling groan at the taste, burying his face between your thighs as he stroked and massaged your pulsing clit with the tip of his tongue. His fingers kept working, curling up towards your stomach on each thrust as you sobbed, abandoning your grip on his hand to clutch to the yellow chevron on his brow like your life depended on it. Your head was swimming, buzzing so intensely with heat that you could barely form a thought beyond the deep, impending well of your next orgasm. It pulsed from so deeply within you, a relentless wall of pleasure rushing towards you faster than you could prepare yourself for. All you could do was cling desperately to Rodimus's brow and hold on for the ride, sobbing and gasping and shivering as it crept ever higher, warmth blossoming out from your cunt and crawling across your shaky frame as pleasure exploded behind your eyelids. You wailed his name again, barely comprehensible, as each press of his fingers forced a gush of slick from your quivering hole and spattered into his giant palm. As quickly as it came his tongue swept it gently away, fingers slowing and letting out a low, melodic hum as your wails and moans trailed off into soft, sniffly whimpers. Finally, finally, after what felt like an eternity but couldn't have been more than a minute at most, he began to lower you carefully back down onto the desk, thumb rubbing a tear from your cheek as he pulled his fingers from your puffy, overworked cunt.

He cooed your name again, cradling your body in both palms. "Good?" He murmured, warmth from his metal palms seeping directly into your sweaty skin and aching muscles. You heaved another shaky breath, unable to form words so you instead shot the giant mech a wavering thumbs-up. In any other scenario that may have been a cripplingly embarrassing response to what was possibly the best orgasm of your life, but it pulled a beaming smile to Rodimus's face regardless.

In a few minutes the tacky feel of slick and sweat and robot saliva drying on your skin would begin to border on intolerable, and you knew you'd eventually have to rise to fawn-like legs and stumble to clean yourself up. But for now you were more than happy to lay sprawled in your giant companion's grasp.

Hell, maybe he'd even help you take a bath, too. After all, it's not like you had anything left to hide.

[aceofheartsssss]

I was feelin’ guilty for not posting a lot cuz I been doin adulting shit and I’m fuckin’ tired, but I managed to whip up some quick sketches of my favorite tired old men bein’… tired- 👀

[bird-in-the-space]

The Mysterious Painter of Cybertron

Imagine being reincarnated as a transformer on Cybertron and becoming a painter.

Warnings: death, reincarnation, mentions of cybertron's caste system, a bit of discrimination, a bit of lazy writing, and mentions of the war.

-----------------------------------------------------

- Imagine spending the last moments of your life in the hospital, listening to the beeps of the life support and watching life pass by through the window. You already bid your goodbyes to your family and friends, who grieved and hugged you for the last time. After years of fighting cancer, you decided to put an end to it and admit defeat. You rather fall into endless sleep than spend more time of your life in a hospital, bedridden, and going through chemo after chemo. It was sad, but you were at peace with your impending fate. 

- You have spent your time wisely before coming to the hospital. You experienced everything you wanted. You drew and painted the last of the art pieces you could and witnessed firsthand the people’s joy and awe at seeing your art. Your life as a painter had come to fulfillment. There was now nothing else you wanted to do. You were content and ready to travel to the unknown. 

- You close your eyes, feeling the warmth of the sunlight on your face and smelling the scent of the flowers near your bed one last time. You took your last breath, feeling yourself pass, unable to open your eyes any longer. 

- You imagined many things you might face when your soul finally left your body and you wandered into the unknown realm of the dead. However, you did not expect to hear sounds and open your eyes to a completely different world, filled with mechanical beings, in a body of a giant robot. 

- You barely had time to process what was happening. You and many others were greeted by another robotic being, who welcomed you as a new generation of transformers on Cybertron. 

- It clicked sometime later that you had reincarnated or been born into a new life. But strangely, you still remembered your previous life as a human. 

- However, you were not frightened by the new situation. You decided to take your previous name as your designation and embrace your new life in this strange world. 

- You marveled the strangeness of this new world. It was unlike anything you had seen in your life as a human. Everything was mechanical and you had a unique ability to change shape. It was beautiful. The culture, the history, everything was new and you wanted to explore all of it. But like all beautiful things, there were ugly sides to this world. 

- You found out Cybertron operated on a caste system. You were given a job based on your alt-form, and though you did not end up with a bad profession and were treated well by your new colleagues, you could not help but feel sadness and watch how the lower-class bots were treated. You saw how they were forced to work in dangerous places and how they were treated like lesser beings, even if their professions were one of Cybertron’s vital sources of energon, the sustenance, and the lifeblood of transformers. 

- It reminded you how humanity used to operate, and unnoticeably still did even in modern times. 

- You wished you could do something to change that, but due to your own status in the system— your options were limited. Even if you were not part of the lower class, you weren’t part of the higher class either. You were somewhere in the middle. 

- You utilized your skills and knowledge from your previous life, which earned you a safe position. You learned new necessary skills to survive in the system, helping the less fortunate whenever you could. 

- You made many friends, even a few from the higher class, who did not view the lower class the way most did. 

- After some time, you began to yearn for your previous home and the beauty of organic nature. Cybertron was beautiful in its own way, but you did not deny your desire to share the beauty of organic fauna and flora, especially when these transformers knew very little about them. 

- It made you think of your previous passion for arts, so you began sketching and painting during your free time, using supplies your credits allowed. 

- You painted whatever you could from memory, painting flowers and landscapes you painted before. You considered applying yourself as a student to a research institute, but due to your status – you couldn’t. 

- Your friends were enamored with your art pieces. Even your friends from the higher class were intrigued. They suggested you try selling them, and the idea appealed to you. Perhaps you finally found an opportunity to support the bots in the lower class. Unfortunately, you had to drop the idea when you failed to sell even one of your art pieces. The idea of a nameless middle-class bot painting such pieces simply did not gain any attention. 

- It was a low blow to your esteem, but you then found a way to overcome that through one of your friends, who was a higher-class bot. By putting their name on your paintings and claiming to be the artist behind them, your art finally gained attention and started to sell. Wanting to help the lower class, you and your friend agreed to donate the funds to support charities and the less fortunate. 

- They did feel bad taking the credit for your work, but you did not mind, since you finally found a way to help the lower-class bots. It also provided you with more art supplies, allowing you to continue painting and making new art pieces. 

- Even if your friend was the one who gained the fame and the marvel for your art, you were happy. Some researchers even became interested in organic life, which was a win for you. 

- You sometimes wandered into the sectors and levels where the lower class lived, painting portraits of flowers and landscapes into the empty walls of the streets. It was your way of giving the lower class something beautiful to look at. They would look at you with suspicion whenever you came, but then gaze in wonder when you painted something they had never seen before.

- Whenever some of them mustered the courage to come and talk to you, asking about the paintings, you would happily tell them what they were and their meanings, which would leave them even more in awe. 

- You were considered strange and even your name felt unusual. However, you were then regarded with respect, for your artistic skills and kind nature toward others. Some thought you were some kind of researcher due to your knowledge of the organic flora, but even so, the paintings you created on the walls and concerns of what they considered slump were left untouched. 

- It was silent appreciation and you even noticed some of them chase away vandals who attempted to ruin your work. It warmed your spark, even if not all of them appreciated your small gifts of art. 

- Unknowns to you, your small paintings would last even when the war between Autobots and Decepticons arose. Some of your artwork could be found left untouched even if everything else around them lay in ruins. No one would know what happened to you, the strange artist behind them. Your name and figure would become things of mystery, but those who still remember them and you would leave them alone and even mark them as a zone of neutrality.

[screamingseeker]

heyyy could i request headcanons (or anything) for knock out or starscream with a captured m.e.c.h member reader? reader is knowledgeable about cybertronian physiology (took one apart before), is generally sinister and snarky but shows a flirty side of themselves when prompted?

♡ Starscream was too quick to dismiss you as just another human insect that he was shocked - SHOCKED when you turned out to be his equal in terms of intelligence and snark.

♡ The seeker actually gets a bit flustered the first time you show your vicious streak.

♡ He never imagined a soft, squishy human could be so cruel and it actually endears you to him.

♡ You find yourself stuck with Starscream taking on the responsibility of your "handler". It's all an act so he can get to pick apart that fascinating, twisted little mind of yours.

♡ Starscream often asked for your opinions on how to discipline the troops and your harsh punishments would make his spark race.

♡ And when you responded flirtatiously to one of his compliments? He nearly lost his mind.

♡ Being flirted with by a human should have disgusted him. He should have threatened to terminate you, but he found he liked it.

♡ Starscream had grown fond of you.

♡ Knock Out is delighted to find a kindred spirit in a human, of all creatures.

♡ At first, it started out as a friendly sort of rivalry.

♡ "Oh? You think you know more than I do, human? Prove it."

♡ Knock Out liked to test your knowledge of Cybertronian physiology. He'd point out something and intentionally use the wrong name or purpose for it to see if you would correct him.

♡ He found it ridiculously attractive when you did, showing off your knowledge.

♡ The verbal sparring? Legendary.

♡ Knock Out was grateful for your company. Ever since he lost Breakdown, he's missed having someone to tease and provoke, and Starscream takes what he says too personally.

♡ You quickly became his "darling human".

♡ Knock Out was the first to flirt, of course, but it took him by complete surprise when you actually flirted back. From that moment on, Knock Out took every opportunity to try to fluster his sick little darling.

[till-all-are-fuck]

Rodimus, walking up: Pissing alone, handsome?

Megatron:

Megatron: What????