#transformers jazz x reader

[ollimus-prime]

Jazz Hands

A/N, not important: First transformers fic, sorry if this is kinda iffy. I'll get better as I write more. I tried my best man. Requests open if anyone wants to see anything specific. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: kidnapping

Words: 1578

Summary: It's time for the Autobots to regroup, yet Jazz isn't yet willing to let his new human go.

Low music hummed out of your speakers, the volume turned down low so you could concentrate on the dark road. Your high beams were on, though even they seemed to be swallowed up by the darkness of the winter night. Your car’s engine hummed lowly as you drove, the bumps in the old asphalt road causing your car to intermittently shake. It was peaceful, as far as lone drives went.

You rub your tired eyes with the heel of your hand, tapping the steering wheel along to the beat of the song playing with the other. It was your eighth hour in the car by now, and you were stuck between toughing it out for the next five hours or just stopping in the next town you come across. You glance down at the map shining out from your phone on your center console, checking to see how close any hotels were. Or a walmart. Sleeping in your car sounded like a dream at this point. 

You sigh, quickly tapping on the nearest hotel in the navigation app and changing your destination. The screen lit up with a bright ‘CHANGE COURSE?’, waiting patiently for you to hit the confirmation before your map starts to bug out. You curse under your breath, both hands now gripping the steering wheel in annoyance. It takes a moment for the app to recalibrate, the icon showing you as driving backwards for a moment before righting itself once more. You relax back down, glancing at the number of miles until your exit. Thirty-seven to go and you’re home free.

You’re able to go twenty minutes before your radio starts to glitch out, the low music fading into mild static before changing into the familiar yet confusing revving noises. You sigh, fiddling with the knob on the stereo to try and fix it, grumbling under your breath. You had bought the Porsche from the used car dealership months ago, and while the stereo tending to jam up or change channels at will was annoying, it wasn’t enough for you to fork over the cash to get it fixed. It takes you a couple minutes of fighting the broken signal before you give up and switch the volume all the way down, opting to ride in silence instead. Silence immediately broken by the loud siren and lights of an approaching cop car.

You pull over with a loud curse, clutching tight to the steering wheel and expecting the cop to whizz past to reach whatever emergency they were being called to. To your surprise, and immense resentment, the cop pulls over alongside you. You grit your teeth, the grinding echoing in your head as your heart rate spikes. You quickly try to gather the necessary documents before leaving both hands on the steering wheel in hopes the exchange would be quick. You just wanted to leave. Thoughts of driving off after the cop makes it to your car tempt you, but you shake them off. You wanted to leave with a ticket at most, not a date with a judge.

It feels like forever before you’re able to pry your eyes away from the forward stare they were stuck in. Confusion seeps into your mind and muddles your frustration as you realize no officer had exited the vehicle. You watch the car for a second, face furrowing in concentration. Its low beams were still on, making it hard to see much more than the fuzzy shape of the car behind you. Another second passes as you await an officer to emerge, heart pounding in anticipation.

The car behind you shifts, a loud crunching sound emitting from the vehicle. Your eyes widen as the car breaks apart and stands up, your heart immediately dropping into your stomach. 

“What funding provided that?!” You exclaim in a panic, grabbing at your seatbelt to free yourself from the tin can of death your car became. To hell with a misdemeanor, you were not sticking around long enough to be crushed by a cop car on a rampage.

A loud long rev comes from the approaching thing’s engine, causing your car to start to shake. The seatbelt unclips, letting you make a break for the door before your ears ring with the sound of scraping metal. You scream as your car’s interior shifts around you, the windows pulling back until you’re stuck in a much smaller space. The sudden cramped area and pitch black makes your entire body tense up, your body shaking in fear. You can feel the metal vibrate and shift under you, the air permeated with a harsh chemical smell mixed with motor oil and gasoline. You curl up in a ball on instinct, unable to cry or scream or move. Cold air surrounds you for a second before you’re pulled out by a massive hand curled around your midsection, holding you just tight enough for it to be uncomfortable. The squeeze of fingers locked around your midsection knocks the breath from you, your limbs stinging against the frigid metal. Your eyes squeeze shut as you wait to be crushed, your arms desperately pushing at the giant metal fingers encasing you.

“Put it down, Jazz.” A harsh voice sounds. It was robotic in a way, a metal ring to each syllable that sounded, yet still sounded alive. You’re shooken slightly, the not-car holding you lifting you up as a way of emphasis. The movement makes your stomach drop, your vision swimming behind your eyelids.

“No. I told you already, I’m not leaving them.”

The angry growl of the once cop car’s engine causes your eyes to pop open, causing you to finally face the metal monster. An act you immediately regret upon looking at the sharp blue ‘eyes’ that seemed to possess a hatred for your very being. The instinct to run and hide consumes you with little ability to follow through. The Porsche turned robot you bought had you in its grasp, and was clearly not interested in letting you go. It feels as if your very soul is gripped with terror, your eyes locked on the face of something that shouldn’t be able to exist. Your stomach lurches from fear and discomfort, the cold air biting at your face reminding you that this is all real.

“It’s trembling, Jazz. There is clearly something wrong with it.” The giant white mech seethes, gesturing to your shaking form in what seemed like frustration. The robot holding you makes a concerning metal-screeching noise from its chest, quickly turning its hand and bringing you up to its face to inspect you. The ‘eye’ contact between you and the metal behemoth makes the air around you feel even colder than it already did. 

You were not dressed for the weather in the slightest, only donning a pair of jeans with a ratted old sweater. You hadn’t planned on getting out of your car for a while, so dressing any warmer hadn’t been a concern. You’re able to see your breath in front of you, each gasp of air you’re able to manage causes your lungs to constrict and crackle from the cold. The blue visor dims at your miserable state, its mouth curling in upset. It uses a finger from its other hand to pet your head, something that only makes you panic more. The bot sighs, curling both hands around you and holding you close to its chest.

“They’re just a bit scared. It’s not that bad.” The vibrato in the robot's voice causes his chest to vibrate uncomfortably. The mech pretends to not notice your discomfort, rubbing your stomach and chest rhythmically with his thumb. “You won’t even notice I have them.”

A couple more concerning sounds come from the cop-car-robot causing the Porsche to tighten his grip. You wanted to voice your opinion, to fight or protest or scream, but there was nothing you could do. They continued to bicker almost, the bot holding you seeming much calmer than the one it was facing. It talked about you like one would when bringing a lost kitten home without telling their family first.

The cop car seemed to give up on arguing with the Porsche, your handler’s chest rumbling in smug satisfaction. You help as the familiar sound of the cars changing ripples through the air once more, the hands holding you disappearing as you disappear back into the chest of the beast.

The lurching stops finally, you ending up dazed in the passenger seat. The rev of your car's engine knocks you out of it, pure instinct driving you forward as you try to do anything to get out. The seatbelt around you tightens to the point of near pain, the inability to bring your back off the seat only fueling the desperate feeling to get out. You grope around the car for anything you could grab, only for the crushing realization that nothing you touched worked. The stick shift for the transmission refused to budge and no amount of clawing at the door handle could get it to pop open. You were trapped in your own car, heading off at speeds you wouldn’t dream of hitting. You sink down in the seat in defeat. You could only hope they’d have to stop soon for gas or whatever else robot cars needed to run on. Maybe you could figure out how to escape then. For now, the only thing you do is come along for the ride.

Pt. 2

[tinydefector]

Do you think cybertronians ever get a bit freaked out on how tough we are? Yes they can break us like toothpicks but humans seem to be able to take a good beating as well with adrenaline helping. Even our own body and oxygen trys kills us and yet we stick around like roaches. We're fragile in some reasonable and dumb ways and then resilient in the most dumbest ways.

Oh definitely, alot of the bots are very off put by how fragile humans are just in general and tend to avoid them.

But then there's the moments like Ratchet working a late shift and a small knock on the door alerts him someone's there, he turns around expecting it to be Rodimus or Whirl who he's about to scold but instead it's one of the humans and they look worse for wear. After fussing over them for a moment, detailed scans relay fractured ribs, a broken collar bone, and a heap of bruises and yet the humans just like. "Can I have some Panadol, Nurophen, and a glass of water?" Because they don't know what else to do its what they would get. Most of the times they ended up in the hospital. Ratchet is losing his God dawn mind as he rushes around looking for the best painkillers he can find for orgaincs in the smallest dosage he can give, hoping to primus it doesn't shut their heart down. In the end, they end up on a medication that makes them extremely drowsy, almost like the green whistle/ Weed.

Ratchet ends up doing alot of study on the human body and realises just how fucked up little monsters we are. We literally need oxygen to survive but he we have to much pure oxygen it will kill us. Water, we need a certain amount of it, if we don't have enough we will get dehydrated and die, if we have to much we will get water poisoning, intoxication, or a disruption of brain function. This happens when there's too much water in our cells, such as the brain and blood cells, causing them to swell. When the cells in the brain swell, they cause pressure in the brain, resulting in death. The issue is that it can become an addiction to drinking too much water for the effect it has on the body. Same with nearly everything we consume, it can kill us, but we need a lot of it in moderation.

Human: "I just need some basic pain killers and a nap"

Bot: "No, you need full surgery, sedations, and 3 weeks of recovery!"

Human: "nah she'll be fine!"

Bot: "Absolutely Not, bed now before I cuff you"

____________

Following that imagine a first contact AU where Cybertronians and humans are just slowly getting to know how the other works and next thing a human is kneeling over in horrific pain and it send the bots all into panic mode trying to help them, wondering what's happening and thinking they are dying. And the human after about ten minutes some pain killers still looking rather pale and unhealthy just go. "Sorry about that fuck I hate, Cramps/palpitations/ phantom pains/ and such" and the bots are just looking at them horrified like.

Bot: NOT NORMAL!!!"

Human: what you talking about?

Bot: everything that just happened you literally just short circuited!

Human: nah that's causal wait till you see the really funky shit.

______________

Human pet AU

Cybertronian's keeping humans as pets is like humans keeping hamsters. Humans are some of the most homicidal, suicidal and just deranged creatures that Cybertronian's could keep as pets. It's gotten to the point that they are a luxury/ exotic pet because if you do not feed them the right stuff, give them the right amount of light and socialising, and they will just die. There are so many Cybertronian's who take their human into clinics worried as and its just the human being a little bustard because they didn't get the treat they wanted 2 weeks ago and are still holding that grudge. Not to mention, we are prone to causing as much trouble and issue. We are like cats.

But we are also very easily sick and primus forbid a human gets sick because to a bot they think it's a death sentence for their sweet little spitfire of a human who they have had now for ages. And the human looks ready to die, and the next day, they are up and about like nothing ever happened.

Human: if you don't feed me the meals I want I'm going to pretend to die. If you do feed me what I want I might actually die because I shouldn't be eating it.

Panicked bot: "MY HUMAN HAS GOTTEN SICK. HELP!?!"

Human: totally worth it.

_________

In conclusion, the cybertronians are rather wary/ concerned about how resilient humans really are.

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Taglist

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[revelboo]

I bought this lovely keychain explicitly for my Soundwave themed Jeep at TFCon Orlando and promptly forgot all about it until now. Whoops.

Touch-Starved Headcanons

Megatron x Reader, Wheeljack x Reader, Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, and others. I just like the idea of big mechs coming undone at a little comfort.

Starscream

• Almost always the one to initiate it. Just absently scooping you up while grousing about his day and slowly feeling his tension ebb as he sits with you. And you in turn, relax into the feel of his warm hands and the gentle slide of a servo between your shoulder blades as you sleepily ask questions because you know he likes it. He’ll never admit how much he enjoys these moments, they soothe a need he can’t quite pin down. You’re not plotting against him. Not a threat. Just you and he needs this more than you know.

Megatron

• It’s been a long time since he’s let his guard down. Mostly because he knows the loyalty of his followers is a tenuous, uneasy thing. They might cheer his name to his face, but they scheme behind his back. And he can’t allow himself to really make friends with any of them. Any weakness will just be exploited. Used to hurt and betray him. You aren’t Cybertronian, though. He’s almost sure Soundwave deliberately leaves you with him, because the other mech knows how much he needs it. Slumping on his throne in those quiet moments when no prying optics are about, he cradles you against his chassis. Sometimes he tells you about Cybertron before the war, but usually he just idly holds you, his spark softening.

Wheeljack

• So busy. This mech forgets to refuel and recharge when he’s working on a new project, obsession consuming him. And he’s always working on something. It takes a bit for you to notice the pattern and realize the big guy isn’t taking care of himself. And that’s not happening. You walk across his desk to put yourself between him and whatever he’s working on, head tipped up as his vocal indicator panels flash at you in question. He might not remember himself, but a gentle request to share a meal is never refused. He carefully offers his hand and carries you to find an energon cube and something for you. Recharge is the same, a soft complaint that you’re cold and a light touch on his servos and sure, he’s picking you up to hold because he knows you like sprawling on him, soaking in his warmth. With how explosive his projects sometimes are, most Autobots avoid him. That you want to be around him? Understand that he’s lonely and needs this without making him ask? It means everything to him.

Soundwave

• What with his cassettes and his abilities, he’s never truly alone. Lonely, though? He drifts through the base, the voices of other Decepticons whispering in the back of his processor. There, but distant. But not you. He finds himself gravitating to wherever you are, the strange, chaos of your mind so fascinating. You calm whenever he picks you up, those snarled worries and fears soothed away with a touch of his servos. And his own tension drains away in turn. You give him one voice to anchor to when he’s adrift and in danger of slipping under.

Jazz

• No matter how stressed he is, he keeps that smile in place. It’s part of the mask he wears as a spy-nothing can touch him or put a dent in that perpetual good mood. Even if underneath the surface, he’s so tired of pretending. That exhaustion is always there, trying to drag him under. He can’t let that mask slip, not even around the other Autobots. They need him to be the easy, going spot of sun for the team. With you? His door wings can droop as he toys with your hair or feels your little hands cautiously exploring his much bigger servos. He doesn’t have to pretend that everything is alright. And he needs that so much his spark hurts.

Ratchet

Not much better than Wheeljack about remembering to care for himself. He’s too busy. And while he pushes himself past exhaustion, he’s more likely to take breaks if you’re about. He has no idea how long he’s been in surgery, hands a blur, but as he washes the energon off, he sees you. On the counter, back against the wall sound asleep. And then he’s picking you up, venting when you curl into him with a sleepy sound, smiling as he fusses at you. Humans need sleep. And have you eaten? He’s one to talk, but you’ve invoked caretaker mode now. You protest without any real heat and press your face against his palm and he just freezes before carrying you to his quarters to rest. Because you need him and he doesn’t want to put you back down on that cold counter as you cling to his servos. He can’t.

[yasashii-leaf]

[kiwii-tururu]

Sorry hahaha, I saw several versions of this and I wanted to do it too.

Tururu~

[l3ibnest]

a gift for his conjunx

[ikkosu]

Ibis smh crashed after I drew Jazz and locks me out everytime I go back in 😔 here’s the flirty Jazz doodle you wanted @desertrosesmetaldune there’s prowl and oppy to go but I could do that if a certain someone let me into my app

drawing mechs are kind of fun omg,,,,

[k0hakut0u]

transformers discord goes wild

[inferno-0]

Embrace / Headcanons / [Transformers Bayverse]

Autobots: Ironhide, Jazz, Drift

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Sorry for the English

────────────────────────────

Ironhide

* Ironhide knows that humans are social creatures and need physical contact. Of course, he doesn't understand what exactly you want, but the assumption was in his processor.

Embrace? Ok.

* Although the big black bot is not particularly tactful, if his person is really depressed and cannot somehow control himself, then he will immediately throw all pride into the Kaon pit and come to you to cheer you up.

* In Mass Displacement, he does so with uncertainty. You're just too young for him, and your skin is too soft and unaccustomed to his hard lining. Sometimes you can hear him puffing as he begins to envelop you with his manipulators on the sides.

* To tell you a secret, he himself sometimes runs to you. Of course, this was not without questions that he had to answer. But Ironhide still gets his way. Especially at the moment when he decides to pick you up and press you to his spark.

Jazz

* Do not let the tears fall and do not go to him, for he is already here. Jazz is a shrewd creature. It catches a lot of little things and keeps it on notice. Seeing your dull face, the Bot will immediately begin to offer all options for calming down. Do you want to hug? You are welcome.

* Jazz is glad that it is not a bulky bot that barely fits in human hangars.

+ To this, sometimes he does not have to shift en masse to be on the same level as you.

* Is one hundred percent self-confident. The sleight of hand that strikes you grabs your body in the blink of an eye and presses it against your body. He is always interested in your reaction to this sudden gesture. Jazz can never be persuaded, he acts with cunning.

* After some time, jazz will understand when you feel bad.

He knows exactly what you need and how. Just don't forget to reach out your hands. Fur like a pet will snuggle like you do in a minute.

Drift

* Also the same as Jazz, but deeper in words and understanding. He knows what physical intimacy is and their types.

Drift is well oriented in any situations and knows what to do when you feel bad.

* I can't say that he is an ardent fan of hugs, but it sometimes calms him down and makes him forget for a while. He likes the way your palms run down your back.

He considers them the most delicate and soft, despite the structure.

* Prefers to do this in Mass Displacement, as he is afraid of hurting you if he lifts you to a high enough height.

Drifting can give you at least a whole day, the main thing is that you calm down and warm up in its manipulators.

* Its spark sometimes pulsates and you can smell it. Drift won't say anything, of course, just awkwardly look away, pressing you to him. Sometimes you can play a joke, to which Drift smiles, as he realized that your sadness is over and you are just sitting on his lower servo, seizing the moment.

────────────────────────────

Guys, I'm alive, don't worry 🙌

[bones4thecats]

Tfa Autobots fearing J reader, would be Optimus, Bee, Starscream and Jazz, also J reader is part of the elite guard

TFA Fearing the Murder Drones J! Reader

Characters: Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Starscream, and Jazz (Transformers Animated) Requester: @zinnia1506 A/N: These are short due to lack of many ideas, but I do hope you like it otherwise. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Nothing bad ⚠️

Disclaimer: This contains zero spoilers for the show Murder Drones

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Optimus Prime ══════════════════════════╝

⚔️ You scared this guy a lot. No other words.

⚔️ Known for your slight arrogance and obvious workaholic nature, all that had energon flowing through their cables knew that you were not someone to mess with under any circumstances

⚔️ Optimus was surprised to see you come out of the Steelhaven with your two fellow Elite Guard members, Velocity and Nickel, and the other two guards, Sentinel Prime and Jazz, along with your leader, Ultra Magnus

⚔️ It was when Starscream lunged at Ultra Magnus that you merely blasted him away, a cocky smile appearing on your face as you criticized him

"You're pathetic. Going at someone from behind? Just shows how much weaker the Decepticon cause has gotten in the past many cycles."

⚔️ Now he understood Sari when they first showed up on Earth...

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Bumblebee ═════════════════════════════╝

🐝 Bee admired, yet was scared of you, when you came in during one of his classes with your fellow teammates, Velocity and Nickel, behind you. You tried teaching them fighting skills, only to fail with Bee's idiocy

🐝 You glared at him as he tried stinging Nickel, he may be a weaker member of the Elite Guard, but he could be useful. Sometimes...

🐝 Nodding at Velocity, she smiled sadistically, jumping in with her servos transformed into multiple spinning-blades. She then attacked Bee, making him panic and run

🐝 Sentinel scoffed as you looked at him, your head tilted slightly to ask him what was wrong

"This Guard is getting weaker by the cycle... I swear..."

"Completely agree with you there, Sent'."

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Starscream ════════════════════════════╝

💫 You were one of the best Autobot fighters, and when you saw Starscream aim his blasters at Ultra Magnus, you just snapped into work-mode

💫 Jumping up, you spread your wings, flapping them to push you towards the Decepticon as he looked at you in shock

💫 Your long tail emerged and wrapped around his neck, causing him to fly into the air with you while the others observed. Sentinel, Jazz, and Ultra Magnus just sighed as you inserted your tail's tip in the 'Bots neck, injecting him with acid

💫 He wailed in pain as you scoffed and kicked him away. Starscream then stood up shakily whilst yelling about how he'd find you and make you pay sometime

"Go ahead, 'Screamy. I'd love to hear that squeaky voice of yours scream in pain as I tear your wings apart."

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Jazz ═════════════════════════════════╝

🎷 Jazz liked being around you, but he had to admit, you could be quite scary despite your seemingly-polite front

🎷 This was proven when you grew tired of listening to Velocity and Sentinel argue. You slammed your servo against the panel, wrapping your tail around the two 'Bots before slamming them into the nearby desktop

"If you two don't shut your intakes, I'll shut them for you. Capiche?"

🎷 The two nodded erratically as you let them go, throwing a datapad at Nickel before walking out of the control room. No doubt you were going to train your heart out against a dummy

🎷 The white mech just watched with slightly widened optics and a nervous demeanor as you walked away, thankful that he wasn't the center of your anger

[ollimus-prime]

Hey :) , Loved your jazz hands and might i say that im absolutely obsessed with it. Could i request more? Maybe day in the life / slice of life of being held captive by jazz. Gosh we are just so helpless with him and jazz is special ops lmao. Is it wrong to say id be cool with it? -🐞

Jazz Hands Pt. 2

A/N, not important: Sorry if the characterization is off, I'm still learning. I'm only like, 90 comics in. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: kidnapped, you're basically a pet idk

Words: 1513

Summary: You're stuck with Jazz for now.

Pt. 1

The room was empty. You look around, glancing between the lone slab of metal your kidnapper, ‘Jazz’, slept on and the door. He was gone, really and truly gone. The desk you were left on gave you just enough of a view of the room to be certain, letting you slip nervously off of the pile of rags you now slept on. Hope bloomed in your chest before you angrily stamped it down, not letting yourself get too excited. This was possibly your only chance of leaving this horrid place, and you were not going to let something as pitiful as hope get in your way. No, you needed to be logical about this.

You carefully made your way to the edge of the desk, trying to judge the distance to the floor. The long way down made you feel dizzy, a pit forming in your stomach. The chair was slightly pushed out and, while a worrying distance still far down, was much more inviting than the floor. You try to steele your nerves to jump, working up the courage to take the fall. Sure, it was maybe 8 feet down, but the worst that could happen is you break something. You wince, starting to lose your nerve at the thought.

With carefully curated confidence and determination, you back away from the edge before bolting forwards and throwing yourself towards the chair, trying to keep your body loose as you fall. The fall is short but sickening, your mind reeling as the images of you broken on a chair for the robot who took you to find flashing through your head.

The landing is painful, your legs giving way under you and knocking you to your knees. You let yourself starfish out onto the chair and take deep breaths. Rushing getting up seemed more of a bad idea than the jump itself was. You carefully roll your ankles in a small circle as you lay there, making sure nothing was broken or damaged. Pleased with the results and your resolve growing once more, you push yourself up to inspect the next jump you had to make.

You sigh at the similar height down to the floor, internally wincing at the hard metal you’d be jumping down onto. While the chair was made of a similar material, the floor itself seemed all that more threatening. You steady yourself, getting ready to throw yourself off the next ledge and bolt to freedom. You change your tactic, lowering yourself down and hanging yourself off the edge of the chair instead of jumping straight down. With the height between your feet and the floor now much lower, you let go.

The impact on your legs is much easier to deal with. You smile wide as you merely wobble this time, almost laughing in joy at the realization you were now on the ground. You make your way over to the door, inspecting the gap between the floor. The gap was small, much smaller than anything you could squeeze through. Ideas float through your head as you inspect the door, trying to come up with some way to get out and get away.

The door wasn’t willing to budge no matter how much you tried, and the keypad was much too far above you. Not like you knew the passkey for it anyways. You grit your teeth, kicking the door in frustration. Upon making impact with the door, a loud thud sounds. You freeze, looking at the door in confusion before you hear another one, then another. Panic wells up in you as you try to scramble away from the door as you realize what that sound was. Footsteps. 

Jazz was back.

The door slides open before you’re even close to somewhere you could hide, the surprised rev of his engine your only warning before you’re scooped into his hands. The speed at which he picks you up causes your head to spin. With no time at all, you’re eye-to-visor with him and he looks none too pleased.

“What’re you doing on the floor like that? I could’ve stepped on you!” He scolds, the vibrato of his voice washing over you. The deep sound still scared you. It surprised you how something so completely foreign and inhumane could sound so close to your own native tongue.

You bite down on your cheek in hopes to prevent yourself from retorting. The robot’s engine rumbles in frustration at your silence, his hands shifting so you’re settled in one while the other holds you still. Large fingers start to tousle your hair in the manner of a human to a mouse. 

“Why won’t you just talk to me?” The Porsche mutters in resignation, more to himself than to you. You try to bat away his fingers that seemed to yearn to squeeze the air out of you, the robot’s face contorting into a frown. You refused to engage with the robot in any positive way since you’ve been here, causing his insistence that you’re happy with him to come into question. It’s been nearly a month since he’s had you, and nearly a week since you had refused to even speak to him. It was the only way so far you could ‘fight back’. Especially since he and the others freak out if you skip even a single bite of food.

The ‘bot sighs after a while of you still refusing to respond, his hands cupping under you once more before depositing you onto his shoulder. The temptation to try and jump from his shoulder was quickly squashed with a quick glance down reminding you that you couldn’t make it unscathed. The height from the desk to the ground seemed like child's play now. You ease your way into the small space between where the car’s hood ended and the cables of his neck began, taking careful consideration to stand somewhere you weren’t going to lose a limb if he moved weirdly. The first couple steps made your stomach lurch and your hands cling desperately to the thick cables in hopes you wouldn’t be launched off the shoulder of the metal beast. It was a hated compromise, to cling to the monster that kidnapped you and made you a glorified pet or be dropped from thirty feet, but a necessary one.

The Porsche walks through the halls of the ship he brought you on, greeting the other robots he sees with an easy smile. You weren’t particularly sure where he was going, the ‘bots sure steps tussling you each time. You hated when he carried you like this, yet you weren’t willing to be held in his hands either.

It was a short walk to the room he wanted. The tables were occupied by other bots you didn’t care to find out the names of, garbled speech washing over you. You didn’t usually care to hear what they were saying, their conversations of ‘Decepticons’ and whatever war they spoke of going completely over your head. Nothing here made sense anyways.

The ‘bot under you walks over to the dispenser of their fuel(Energon, as he’d explained one) and draws a cube. The glowing pink liquid was mesmerizing. You were drawn to it in a way, the soft glow easier on your eyes than the harsh lights the rest of the ship had. He starts to drink from his cube-shaped glass while moving away from the dispenser to let others access it too. You stumble slightly as he moves, tensing back up against his neck in hopes to stay upright.

“Jazz,” One of the more robotic voices sounds. You scowl as you look towards the call, hiding further behind Jazz’s neck. The cop-bot stares at your movement as he regards the Porsche, his metal face scrunching up. “Ah. You brought your organic. Of course.”

Jazz’s engine revs slightly at the dig, his hand coming back up to cup around your form. You shrink away in an attempt to escape the new prison, but fail miserably as your space gets noticeably tighter. “Uh-huh. I don’t see the problem.”

“It’s an organic,” Prowl says with heavy judgment in his voice. Jazz sighs, his optic flashing at the tactician.

“They’re called humans, Prowl.”

“Sure,” He dismisses, ignoring the Porsche’s statement. He hands Jazz one of the large tablets the robots used. You zone out of the rest of their conversation, their heavy voices deep enough to go in one ear and out the other. You settle down against Jazz’s neck cables as his hand starts to rub at your head and back again. You kick at his fingers to no avail in an attempt to fight him off. The ‘bot pays no attention to your wants, instead shifting his hand so you can't fight back.

You slump back, bitter and miserable in your new state of life. Daydreams of hopping down heroically from the monster’s shoulder and running to freedom fill your head as you sulk. Maybe you could come up with a plan to finally get you out of here and back home.

Maybe.

[tinydefector]

Every single day I think about your post about bots being freaky xenophiles about humans it is my Roman empire

Heheheh I'm glad you guys like it but here's some other funny ideas I have of humans being stupid little creatures forgetting that the bots are literally Alien robots.

- getting smoochy with one of the Bots and attempting to fondle them, you slap their headlight and their horn honks, scaring not only you but the bot themself, it kinda ruins the mood but it's worth the laugh afterwards.

- specifically an Optimus Prime one. Having to tell this bot to get a power wash before he's allowed to sleep with you becuase God forbid you have to lay beside him because all you can smell is diesel and it makes your stomach churn so badly. He will grumble about it but if it means he gets to cuddle and hold you of a night you can bet your boots he is squeaky clean. (Also leads to alot of bathroom fun)

- taking any of the speedsters to a show and shine, it's like a fuckin car porn show and the bots are just stunned. Rodimus is having the time of his life literally having humans touching every inch of him as they admire his paint and engine. He loves it even more when you get the bucket of water out. It becomes something he regularly ask you to go do with him becuase he loves having you dressed up all nice and showing him off. In more than one way the praise really makes him feel worth it. He loves having you lean into his engine bay asking if he's alright, asking to just let them know when he wants to go. And this bot treats you to a nice beach side date after. (He has every local show and shine dated) other bots who love this consist of. Tracks, Jazz, Mirage, Knockout(he likes making Breakdown Jealous. Get cucked in the back row)

-rust, it is ratchets most hated thing to deal with because of how corrosive it is to their frames, and trying to find something on earth that works well enough to clear it off so he can do surgerys leads him to the humans gifting him a large thing of Coca-Cola, it works just as well as clean cutter (cybertronian rust remover), when he realises the ingredients are very similar it makes life so much easier until he catches The humans drinking it and he nearly has a spark attack trying to make them regurgitate it. It leads to him finding out that humans casually drink it when they really shouldn't.

- the bugs and insect carnage left in the bots grills, windshield and just small gaps. The horror on one of the humans face when they kiss their bot and then that taste the nastness of dead bugs. Or them enjoying laying on their bot and then a spider crawls out of a gap, scurring right towards them. It leads to the bots regularly getting washes alot more that they ever would have on cybertron, and it's time each bot loves so much. Becuase it develops into pull sized bathtubs, power washing, polished and just proper care given to them.

Here's also a collection of new things humans do that become kinks or fetishes for the bots.

- cleaning/ washing,

- panel beating and repairs

-causal car maintenance

________________

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[revelboo]

Assorted headcanons- scenarios 🌶️ 18+

Starscream x Reader, Megatron x Reader, Jazz x Reader, Wheeljack x Reader, Bluestreak x Reader, Prowl x Reader, Thundercracker x Reader, others. G1/IDW, TFP, TF One. Mass-displaced Cybertronians x reader scene pack- no plot here

Sorry, not sorry at all.

IDW/G1 Starscream

• Kneeling, body bowed over yours, he chuckles and runs his servos over your rib cage. “Something wrong?” He almost purrs the words, lips twisting knowingly. With your hips up, thighs spread over his you can’t get any leverage. Can’t move and you desperately need to, feeling the thick length of his spike pulsing where it’s buried inside you. You tuck your chin to glare up at him, but his optics are focused on where you’re joined, almost seeming fascinated with watching himself slowly rock against you, his spike slick as it disappears inside you before he glances at you, sly expression growing wicked. “Say it.”

• “Please. Please move,” you growl at him voice straining, trying to wiggle and he leans back, servos tightening on your soft hips to pin you still with him buried deep right where he belongs. Teasing his own control and yours. Wings flicking, he studies your flushed face as your thighs clench around him, struggling in frustration. Needing him. Only him, because you’re his. “Star.” Your voice hitches, begging for him and his restraint shatters. Shifting to stretch out over you, he begins to move. You cling to him as he drives into your wet heat, adoring those softy needy sounds you make and the way you feel like you’re made just to take his spike.

TFP Megatron

• Coiling the length of your leash around his fist, he buries his face against the softness of your throat as he covers your much smaller frame. He lets his claws play over your core, testing how wet you are for him. Feeling you squirm as he runs his chain wrapped servos along your belly and up to caress the delicate line of your jaw with a claw tip. Those sharp denta tease the skin of your shoulder, biting just hard enough to send little sparks of pain through you to mix with the need coiling you tight. Leaving marks so there’s no doubt who you belong to.

• Trembling in need as he palms your throat with a hand, draping himself against your back on his knees and a fist planted against the berth. You can feel his spike against your inner thigh branding you with his body heat, leaving a wet trail as his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Such a good little pet,” he growls, before his mouth slides down along your throat to your shoulder. You don’t even have time to form a retort or get offended about the pet comment, before he’s spearing you on his spike and you brace as that first thrust almost sends your sprawling face down. Then he’s firmly pressing against your nape until you surrender with a whimper, chest down, hips up as he ruts against you with a possessive snarl, pace relentless.

TFP Soundwave

• That soundless hum crackles over you, through you in an electric rush that lifts the fine hair at your nape as he settles against you and that tingling awareness washes over you. Arching against his grip as he uses those tendrils like built in shibari to restrain you. Pin you immobile where he wants you. Positioned how he wants.

• Everywhere his flesh meets yours, more of you sinks into him, giving everything you are to him as he presses his forehead to yours, servos sliding down your sides. There’ll be no keeping your thoughts out, no mental walls between you as he spreads you to him, holding you immobile and gripping himself, slides the head of his spike against your slick heat. Your need lashes at him, demanding wordlessly and he can’t deny you. Uses his tendrils to pull you down onto his spike and shuddering as your heat, your thoughts, all of you, envelopes him. Those little noises you make as he claims you almost musical.

G1/IDW Prowl

• “Screw you,” you curl your lip at him. “You can’t just crook a finger and I’ll come running.” The first time had been an accident. How were you supposed to know that if you kept pushing his buttons he’d react that way. Your back thumps against the wall, his fist smacking against the wall as he glares down at you, all frustration and heat and hunger. It’s a feeling you understand all too well as his mouth crashes against yours with bruising force. It’s not a kiss, so much as a domination. And then he’s gripping you, lifting you to pin against the wall with casual strength, settling himself between your thighs so you can’t shut him out. You don’t like him, you’re pretty sure he hates you, but the both of you are equally screwed by how much you enjoy angry sex.

• You bite his lip hard, hands shoving at him like you can actually force him to budge and he nips back, hearing your sharp intake of breath, those angry eyes flashing that he drew blood. He’s almost certain you’d do the same if you could, can feel your fingernails digging into the seams in his armor, biting into the mesh there. Trying to hurt him, mark him as yours. You can hate him all you like, glare and snap at him, but you want him. Want this. A fact that winds him tight as he pulls back enough that he can line your bodies up, find that wet heat and thrust into you. You cling to him, legs hooking around him as he bucks into you and your lips and mouth press whimpering kisses against his throat. Needing him. Hating him. Begging and cursing.

G1/IDW Bluestreak

• His servos tunnel into the softness of your hair, lips running over your jaw up to the corner of your mouth. Internal systems hitching as you shift on top of him where he’s sprawled and the servos of his other hand tighten and almost immediately relax against your hip. Fighting himself and the urge to just move you where he needs you so he can drive up into that tight, wet heat. Your blunt little teeth nip at his lip, soft fingers playing with the mesh of his protoarmor under his jaw. And you shift against him, sitting up on his chassis, eyes dark with need, hair messy from his servos.

• Bluestreak’s head is thrown back, denta bared like he’s in pain as he curls his warm hands around your waist. Every rough vent blowing across your sweat slicked skin as you brace your palms on his chassis and rock back. Sliding yourself against his spike until he shudders under you, servos tightening on you so much you know there’ll be bruises later. “Please,” he growls, optics gorgeous as he looks up at you, that hungry stare almost worshipful. Making you feel powerful as you reach back to find him, grip his pulsing spike and lower yourself on him. His venting hitches under you, hips lifting as he groans in Cybertronian, seeming to forget you can’t understand him now as his hands slide down your waist to your hips and he pulls you the rest of the way down to take all of him. Now you’re throwing your head back as he uses his grip to grind himself against you, still murmuring softly in his language. As soon his grip eases, you brace your palms and ride him, hips rolling.

G1/IDW Thundercracker

• “Please,” that soft, almost whining whimper strokes over him as he lazily rolls his hips. “Thundercracker, I can’t.” Pinning you on your belly, legs spread so you can’t try and shut him out, his arm hooked under you just enough to keep your hips tilted where he needs them as he keeps rocking himself into you, he smiles indulgently. Feeling your slick heat quivering around his spike as he nudges you toward that peak again just so he can fill you again, because you definitely can for him. His wings shiver in lazy little tremors as he feels you clench around his spike.

• “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, lips tenderly brushing the back of your shoulder as he thrusts a bit harder, his servos flexing under you, brushing where you’re joined so you gasp and moan. He’s trying to kill you with pleasure, coaxing and demanding until your tired body is coiling again. Until you need it again as he adjusts his angle, spike stroking inside you and you’re crying out again, shattering. And he groans as you fist his spike, taking him along with you.

G1/IDW Jazz

• “Frag, doll,” he groans, the ragged sound of his voice winding you up as your arch under him. Servos span your sides and glide up, pulling your arms up and pinning your wrists as he rolls his hips, that big spike driving deep inside you. He’s not letting your hands loose since the feel of your hands on his spike had nearly done him in if his ragged venting is any indication. Makes you wonder what he’d do if it was your mouth on him and what kind of noises he’d make. You hook a leg over his hip, bucking your hips to chase after your own pleasure, because it’s so close. As he snarls at you in Cybertronian, you’re almost certain he’s swearing at you.

• Primus, how can you be so tight? Your heel digs into him as you grind yourself against him and he almost bites his glossa. You apparently have no patience, don’t want gentle or slow. And honestly? That’s fine by him. Growling soft, little nothings in your ear, he stops holding back. There it is, your head thrown back as he pounds into you, tenuous control fraying. Crying out his name as he takes what’s his.

TF One Megatron

• He likes this view of you, your body spread open under him, as he props himself up on an arm. The ragged sounds of pleasure you make just for him and the wet heat of you around his spike. Fingers of his other hand sliding over the fragile line of your throat, he bucks into you, chasing down his release. You writhe under him, little pleas falling from your lips. Begging him so sweetly as he thrusts harder.

• He shifts over you, hips pinning yours to the berth as his thrusts grow more urgent and you can only hook your legs around him as he ruts into you, losing all control and it’s a powerful feeling to know you do this to him. He’s always reminding you that you’re his, but that just means he belongs to you, too. Especially as his rhythm quickens and he slides a hand under the back of your head and presses his face against your throat as you cry out, warm tremors crashing through you as his denta grip your shoulder with a snarl. Hard enough to leave a mark on that soft skin.

G1/IDW Ratchet

• Those little teeth try to bite the palm he has covering your mouth as he ruts into you from behind. The container he’s pinned you on your belly on with your hips and legs hanging is just tall enough you can’t reach the ground. Can’t do anything but squirm as he claims what’s his. Taking you like this in the medbay where anyone might walk in hadn’t been the plan, but you’d started it.

• Feeling every, deep drive of his hips, you cling to his forearm. All because you’d felt bad for Fowler getting hell from his supervisor. All you’d done was touch the guy’s arm in platonic sympathy. Next thing you know, Ratchet is picking you up in his servos, locking you both in the medbay. And taking out some pent up frustration on you, not that your complaining as you writhe under him. He stops trying to muffle your cries, gripping your hips in both hands so he can drag you back to meet his urgent thrusts and the wet sound of your bodies meeting, the feel of him inside you mixes with his rough, growling venting to send you over that edge.

G1/IDW Wheeljack

• Little hands on his vocal indicators. A soft mouth against his throat and the feel of you wrapped around his spike, so tight and wet. His hands tremble as they ghost over your ribs, scared if he holds you, his grip might bruise that soft flesh. Scared he might do something that makes you stop. So he just sits still, growling softly, systems revving as you roll your hips against his. Perched in his lap as you torment him with that slick heat and your slow, cautious rhythm. The feel of you anchoring him.

• He’s trembling under you as you ride his spike. His head falling back, vocal indicators flickering mauve. Over and over you feel his servos barely there against your cheek, your side, or your hip. Needing more contact and being denied because he seems to think he’ll break you. Pressing soft kisses against his throat, you roll your hips almost dancing in his lap. Moaning against his jaw and tracing the mesh of his neck with the tip of your tongue. And then finally whatever was holding him back snaps. Those big hands find your hips and he’s in control, thrusting up inside you as he pulls you down to meet him.

[yasashii-leaf]

• The human in Optimus' group is considered a member of the group, but a member unable to hunt frequently therefore Optimus brings fish to the human... Problem, their new member doesn't seem very interested in the fish...

Worried Optimus explains the situation to Ratchet, who takes matters in hand (tentacles)...

In the end it was a failure.

More ???

• Arcee is strongly inspired by the Opisthoteuthis Californiana(It's long🙁)... Or the octopus flapjack. Arcee loves Arachnid, Arachnid is torn between loved or hated *cough* Tsundere *cough*. Oh also Arcee is considered quite old among the mer.

• Elita-one hates Arachnid.... For reasons unknown at the moment...Elita-one is very territorial like many females of her species...

• mating season, the time when merformers do courtship, and all the stuff... uh... mating seasons??? yeah everyone tries to have companions in their own way, sometimes they will fight, dance or sing, well it all depends on the merformers.

Otherwise some just prefer to get it over with and do it with a companion from the previous year...

Couples who are already well formed always like to do romantic things...

• Jazz is visually impaired, he uses his other senses to orient himself, his senses are so good that he is able to smell and hear many things (smell, vibrations, sounds and touch). Jazz's whiskers are sensitive (like touching it tickles).

• Prowl lost an eye because of poachers... If before he was wary of humans, he is now on his guard when he is in the presence of a human.

•I decided to change the coloring of elita-one it's another shade of pink

[mariacrow]

How about a (bayverse)transformers x reader that is from our universe? Like we somehow got into the movies which means we know everything, who dies,when they die, who to trust ect. so that would mean that we can save bots that are going to get killed yk?(jazz my baby🥺🥺) okay so if you have no clue how to write it, you dont have to!!!

I totally get you! It’s like an AU I have myself :) My brain simply CANNOT comprehend that they’re dead. What if, to add a little more spice, we’re actually a Witwicky or better yet Sam’s sibling! I’ll leave that to your imagination ;) and I know exactly how to write this piece ;)

AU where Jazz, Ironhide and Ratchet are saved by Y/N!

2nd person

female reader

takes place in Transformers (2007)

takes place in Transformers: Dark of the Moon (2011)

takes place in Transformers: Age of Extinction (2014)

battle, injuries, reassurance, swearing, flirting…

JAZZ lives!

“YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME!? YOU WANT A PIECE!?” blasting Megatron’s legs, Jazz was angrily shouting while you were watching, standing on top the same building Megatron was on along with Jazz in his claws.

“No! I want two!” Megatron yelled angrily.

“Hey! Hey big guy! Megs!” you yelled as loudly as you could so Megatron could hear you. Your plan was to distract him. “Megatron!!!”

Just when he was about to rip Jazz in two pieces, he turned around because he heard you. Jazz took that opportunity immediately and blasted him in the face. Megatron groaned in pain and irritation as his grip on Jazz went loose.

“You ain’t that smart after all, you pile of rust!” Jazz mocked him as he got out of his grasp and jumped towards you.

Megatron quickly turned around and aimed at you both while groaning in indescribable anger. Jazz grabbed you and jumped off the building while Megatron was trying to blast you both.

“Hold on tight, baby girl!” not the best time for flirting.

Jazz transformed into his BMW and secured you in the driver’s seat with a seatbelt, driving down the building, vertically.

“WOOOAH! JAZZ WATCH OOOUT!”

Inching from the ground, he partially transformed to safely push himself onto the ground. He did scratch his bumper though.

“Aw man! Not the bumper!”

He was speeding through the streets, drifting and sliding like the pro he is. You could barely comprehend what just happened.

“Quite of a bumpy ride, huh~?” he said kinda seductively.

“Jazz, you’re insane.” you said, chuckling.

“You saved my life out there, kid, you know that?”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

“Yeah.” he chuckled, “ “Friends~” “

🩶

IRONHIDE lives!

“For the sake of our survival, a deal had to be made… With Megatron.” Sentinel said as he repeated his gun.

Your eyes widened. Your heart skipped a beat as a heavy wave of adrenaline struck your body. The gun you were holding felt heavier than ever.

“IRONHIDE, WATCH OUT!!!” you shouted and started shooting at Sentinel’s face, aiming for his optics. You made him groan as his aim on Ironhide became wonky.

Ironhide turned around in time and got his weapons out. Sentinel managed to blast his arm off. It made Ironhide groan and lose balance, falling onto his knee as he was trying to shoot Sentinel with his other arm but the pain was keeping him away from being precise.

“NOOO!” you panicked because of Ironhide, seeing he’s badly injured.

“TRAITOROUS PUNK!” Ironhide cussed.

“GET BACK!!!” Lennox yelled.

Bumblebee reacted quickly, the fight was on. Sentinel managed to blast the base, sparkles and heat were all over the place, you could barely see anything. The sharp pieces of metal were flying everywhere which got you injured. Your arm was badly hurt which made you drop your gun and yelp.

Suddenly you could feel a huge, strong metal hand grab you and pull you back. Clinking of Ironhide’s transformation surrounded you and you soon found yourself inside of the black RAM.

He floored it along with Bee. You could hear him groan. His turning was wonky, he was barely driving.

“We need to find Ratchet, ASAP!”

“I don’t need no medic!” you could hear pain in his voice.

“Ironhide, it is not the time for your stubbornness! Please! That grandpa blasted your whole arm off!”

He angrily drifted into an alley and transformed back. You flew out and hit the ground as he slid down the wall, sitting down, holding his leaking shoulder.

You bravely got up and climbed on his leg, taking a better look at him.

“Ironhide, please…” you looked at him with pleading eyes, “This is serious and I don’t know how to fix it…”

Seeing you almost cry because of him made his spark ache. The fact you worry so much about him made it even harder for him to suppress his feelings…

“Fine… Call Ratchet…” he huffed, his ego kinda hurting.

And so you did. He was on his way. You were praying he arrives safely.

Ironhide picked you up and placed you on his other shoulder, gently keeping his servo around you. You smiled and leaned against his helm, giving him a hug. Funny how you both got your left arms injured. Twins!!!

“It’s gonna be alright… I promise…”

“Well I ain’t dying yet.” he chuckled through the pain, “I didn’t even get to take you out.”

He made you chuckle, “Well then. What are you doing tomorrow?”

You both had a good laugh as Ratchet’s sirens were approaching.

Ironhide was saved.

🩶

RATCHET lives!

Ratchet and you were hiding on that abandoned boat for a long time. It was quite difficult for survival but you had him and he had you. He has great survival skills, he taught you a lot.

The night they went hunting for you both almost meant the end. Thankfully you were there with him to react on time. You weren’t sleeping, you were guarding the hiding spot.

It was a peaceful night with a clear sky. You furrowed you eyebrows once the silence was ruined by helicopters in the distance. They were getting closer, you saw them as well as bunch of cars on the dirt road. Your eyes widened as you ran to Ratchet.

“Ratchet! Ratchet, wake up! We need to go, now! They’re coming for us!!”

“Are you sure, Y/N?”

“Yes! I saw them in the distance! Come on, hurry!” you said while quickly packing everything you had, picking up your bag and running out with him. He had a bad feeling about this but he trusted you nonetheless.

The boat got blasted from far away, you didn’t even see who did it. All you knew is that it made you jump off the boat. Ratchet grabbed you mid air and transformed into the ambulance vehicle. You found yourself tumbling inside as he got onto the ground and floored it.

Someone kept blasting you from far away. It was Lockdown tracking you but you had no clue.

“Someone is tracking us! We need to lose them!”

“I know where to go. I suggest you hold on tight! Safety first!” he’s so wholesome.

Suddenly, Ratchet’s tire got blasted. Both of you almost went flying.

“Primus!” Ratchet exclaimed and groaned.

“WOAH!” you bounced inside, securing yourself with a seatbelt, “Your tire is gone!”

Nevertheless, he kept driving with no back tire. You kept being chased by enormously strong blasts until you lost whoever was trying to kill you.

“Whatever was trying to kill us… it isn’t human. I don’t think we have such artillery… and it wasn’t coming from the sky for sure.”

“Humans have made an alliance with the Deceptacons. They won’t stop until they butcher us all!” he said with emotional pain in his voice while driving deep into the countryside, going for an abandoned junkyard.

You sat there, resting. Ratchet seemed hopeless until he spoke.

“Optimus will come back. I know he will. All of this isn’t for nothing…”

You looked up at him and smiled, standing up.

“I’ll go find a spare tire.”

You made him smile, “Thank you. You’re a sweetheart…”

That night you saved the medic’s life without even knowing how butchered he could’ve been by Savoy, Lockdown and KSI…

Dividers belong to @saradika 🩶

[crying-fantasies]

Frame modification

Masterlist

Featuring TFAnimated! Jetfire and Jetstorm, smut/humor, CW: heavy touching, licking, massage(?), fingering, blowjob, humping, alien courting (gone wrong), aerial crash.

It was an accident, you swear in everything loved to you that it was a sincere, clueless accident, yeah, there's direct affirmative in the fact that you didn't know what was happening at first, but then it just got so messed up so fast after the realization, but how could you stop the whole deal was beyond salvation, sincere curiousness got out of proportion stupidly quickly from both parties involved in, you could still feel the whiplash of the morning after.

What was worse than dealing with touchy servos as soon as the sun rises was having to talk to the one in charge of the well-being of your principal headache.

But before diving down into your debauchery, curiosity peaks its ugly head above the anxiety and the black hole that once was your embarrassment, because you have to know if what happened yesterday (or today's first hours?) was common for robot alien standards or if you have updated the term hoe to another level.

“Oh”, Jazz is driving, impossible to see his faceplate due to him being in alt-mode, but he sounds sincere enough to make you feel worse, “well, yeah, split sparks tend to share the same partner”.

Your suffering groan almost shows his amusement, “you're kidding, right?”

Jazz was an easygoing and nice mech to be around, ironically the first and last person, or not, you wanted to know about the incident, but he seemed anything but serious and understanding, “They once were the same spark, they may be in different frames now, but the bond of love blends them once again”.

Why did that sound like the lyrics of a goddam Madonna song?

When did all go down? Maybe it was a bad idea to exhibit them the beauty of Earth by flying over the city only to spite Sentinel, and since the twins could fly, why not? They offered to give you a ride in the first place, making peace at the very end as Jetfire let Jetstorm be the one to take you. Memories are distant as you were more focused on seeing the revolted face plate of the Prime once he found out you entered inside the twins, maybe while you were getting into Jetstorm there was a moment when your hand lingered over his wing, he trembled, strange static bouncing inside his cabin as you were searching for his seatbelt, “What was that?”

He seemed out of breath, but alien robots from space don't breathe, “Worries not! Brother just happy to help!”

You believed in Jetfire, but the kick he gave to his brother's side was evident and loud like a frying pan falling, certainly making it seem different like it was indeed something of importance.

The twins were gentlemechs in all that time, also watching your manners the whole ride and making sure to not touch anything on his board, figure out what all those buttons were for, Jetfire was saying something about “greenness fields! And doted mammal quadruples!”, there was little time to explain those were cows before Jetstorm put on his own two cents, “Little two-pedes mammals too, coming to say hi!”

Those weren't mammals you wanted to say, but had little time reaction once you crossed eyes with the dark, soulful eyes of a whole flock of birds, news of high-speed jets and the likes of it impacting birds flashed inside your mind, and headlines of death, destruction as the twins were greeting the animals.

The twins weren't the brightness, your whole body moved before your brain, Jetstorm made the same sound as before when you impacted with his board and turned right, Jetfire soon followed as his brother came over him, and the last you saw was the birds continuing their path. Life does flash in front of your eyes, as you hear both twins scream, or is it you? Not sure, maybe you didn't even blink during the whole ordeal as your consciousness came back, Jetstorm was performing, or trying to do, CPR with his massive digit over your chest, maybe the pain woke you up, or Jetfire’s pedes pacing from one place to the other, asking himself, if not to his brother, what they were going to do now, was he crying?

But you woke up, and they both screamed as high school kids who didn't believe their hamster was still alive before you laughed at the absurdity, the nerves and the adrenaline flushing over your body, maybe madness was contagious, as Jetfire left his fussing over your wellbeing aside and started to laugh once Jetstorm did accompany you.

“Brother really believe soft human went to the Allspark!”

“Did not!”

You wanted to ask what the Allspark was, and how come they didn't know about the dangers of flying, before realizing, once again, that yeah, they did tell you about not being familiar with their new alt modes or even the new coding, Jetfire was the nearest to you as they were too occupied still placing faults, laughter was soon dying out as the open fields were anything but chilly at this hour of the afternoon, and you could feel him being so warm.

Jetfire made the same sound his brother did earlier, as you snuggled on his side, maybe that was another red flag, well, not a red flag, but a signal indeed.

But you kept on, “touchy feeling today, ya?” Jetstorm accused you, but not really, his words lacked annoyance, rich with amusement instead, perhaps alien robots don't touch one another so easily?

Possibly not, they liked to touch you, too, one digit over your head, one pressing your belly, feeling how things moved inside, they liked your touch, if only laughing or making that static again.

It was your fault, believing it was a good thing once Jetfire didn't escape from it for the first time, leaning onto your hand instead, believing it was good when Jetstorm got you shiny pebbles and maybe quartz before his brother accused him of not being fair, of going too fast, their discussion was lost on you as the quartz shined in your open palms, Jetfire got you a pebble of gold the next day, saying it was tasty and that he didn't know humans also consumed metals.

“It's not your fault”, Jazz said back to the present.

Maybe it was indeed your fault, no, scratch that, it was totally your fault.

It was you who noticed how much static they built up once your fingers traced over their arms, just where their wings got when they were in root mode, Jetstorm smiled, almost like a grin, before pressing it to you, letting you explore before transforming, still in root mode, but with his wings in full display, his grin was now a little, tight smile as he didn't have to say anything before having you over the surface of it, a shiver ran along his whole plating, loud enough for you to hear, he was warm to the touch when he was the coolest one of the two.

Realization dawned upon you when his cooling fans started to work and his hips stuttered.

Did alien robots of space do that?

It was a question without a direct answer, Jetstorm was fast to cover his intake with a servo, his sitting position now more relaxed but also more tense, if it even made sense, “okay” he said with a puff of hot air, “Softy don't know, better stop now-”

But you didn't stop, your finger gripped a little harder over his wing, and this time Jetstorm's hips moved forward, it was clear as the day.

Something inside you did a hard jump too.

“Softy!” he called out, whole frame trembling, as your other hand reached out too, experimenting, was he being serious? Did his wings feel good if you did this?

There was only one way to know, “Storm?” he was lost on his own, a gentle pinch over his wing got him back to reality, followed by something similar to a moan, you related the motion just to be sure, and holly, it was, “does it feel good?”

Took him a moment, but his helm moved, “ya”, his back strut was almost sliding down the wall, screeching metal could be heard as he descended but he never flexed his wings back, “feeling great”

Did that make something to you, of course, face deep red for all to see, grateful it had happened inside, where no one could notice, “Do you want me to do it again?”

New experiences are what move the curious and the youthful, no matter the species as Jetstorm encouraged you once again by flexing his wing in your hold, whimpering when you grabbed it again with both hands, “New frame, new wiring, not normal for me”, his helm was thrown back with heavy ventilation once your lips made contact with the surface, not colliding with the wall by pure miracle “Ah! Soft! Softness much!”.

It was a guilty pleasure, seeing him come undone, is this how it feels to have someone so receptive as a partner? The dopamine flush was making you feel dizzy, having control over this literal giant, brave enough to try and show off, dragging your whole body over the surface, pressing yourself against it, earning a whimper soon to be a lustful moan.

Jetstorm and Jetfire always talked endlessly about how they liked your squishy bits and the fluffy feeling of your hair, you raised the likeness to the limit when your tongue made contact with the plating, and Jetstorm screamed.

Someone screamed from the corridor too.

What a sight it must have been, Jetfire opened the door and looked as if he had run to get there, you could almost see the heatwaves streaming out of him as the snacks he went to get were falling from his servo, you took a glimpse at Jetstorm, sprawled over the big mattress they used to hang out with you, ventilating so hard his chassis was rising and falling, intake wide open, something pink coming from between his leg struts, wings stretched and trembling, you, red in the face, hands still over said wing and still holding to them for dear life, your t-shirt showing the fat of your belly in your desire to press yourself on him.

Fear splashed on your face, this is it, you were about to do the nasty with your friend's brother, who is also your friend, and he caught you in the act, there was no way to say “It's not what you think” but you still did so.

Jetfire, with his big optics over you, directed his fury over the almost unconscious bot, “Brother! How could you!”

Oh, this is it, you fucked up, in more than one sense, you braced yourself for losing a great friendship over your stupid horng mess, but Jetstorm talked back from whatever post-nut clarity he had on himself, “Sorry, brother, poor pitiful me could no longer wait”

“Softy is a high-end!”

“Oh, a luxury one indeed!”

“But what about organic courting? The wine dining! The three decacycle celebrations! The slow dancing!The song under tree! Brother messed all up!”

“Messy indeed, brother!”

They lost you in that argument, but pieces came together, the rocks, the touches, the spare time here and there to hang out, whatever alien ritual was going on shattered over you as Jetstorm didn't want to wait anymore, and requested to a handjob from you, finally, it made sense, as they kept on fighting verbally, your shock was broken when Jetstorm's wing pushed against your hand once again.

The gall of this fucker.

“So”, you tugged hard, Storm cried out, again, and Jetfire shut up for good, “you were ever going to talk with me about it?”

That was a point of no return.

And then a point of discovery that you were a freak in the sheets.

Having reduced Jetstorm once again to a messy rebooting state on the floor was one thing, another different thing was having Jetfire thrusting into the air, sitting as he gave you free access to the wielding point at the base of his wings, must have hurt, but it also left you flabbergasted how much sensitivity it was holding.

Curiosity reached another level, as the tip of your tongue made minimal contact with the length of his wing, Jetfire cried out and there was a sound, something dripping, “Where- where Softy going?”, you were no acrobat or gymnastic, but you could be bent to his side and see some wiring flicking light over where Jetfire’s stomach should be, going south and falling behind.

That day you not only found out your peculiar nature but also that those wires in the protoform were the cybertronian equivalent of a happy trail you were happy to follow, being presented with the cybertronian equivalent of a dick and a vagina once your hands touched enough for him to finally let go, accompanied by the last pieces of your sanity as Jetfire did the most fuckable face you've ever seen before diving down to it, Jetstorm was now pressing his spike between your legs as you worked on his brother.

“Well, all I’m saying”, Jazz’s voice brings back the present, “is that they've been very interested in you for so long, I'm happy you guys figured it out”.

You didn't figure out shit, and it showed when Safeguard appeared that very same evening at your house with a rose bush in hand, looking like a flimsy virgin searching for their date, your mother gave you the most scorching glance in forever.

You wanted to vanish from existence.

Just what you would expect of the crash course into the deep and delicacies of cybertronian courtship.

.

I'm taking too long, am I taking too long? Kind of hard to put my ideas in order, no angst this time, but more silliness from one pair of twins I love dearly since I was a kid.

For the Jetwins lovers.

@tf-kinktober2024