#cybertronians

[botmilf]

headcanon: Cybertronians LOVE to be adored by humans. They LOVE when we call them pretty and beautiful and pet their faces and give them lil kisses ok even DECEPTICONS LOVE THAT SHIT.

[bluespider008]

Phasoraid's so done with his sister's scrap 😭

[cheschesterpossum]

Imagine if one day humanity left the planet/system en masse for some reason, leaving their old creations behind without a second thought. Cybertron falls into civil wars and chaos for millenias until an (un?)intentional reunion with their creators.

Get it? Time work differently in the pocket universe? Ok, sorry that was cringe😔. But anyway-

Ohhhhh, i like that! Imagine going back to check on your creations just to see their planet is currently an absolute scraphole right now.

Humans and cybertronians can be very similar. In this AU, it would actually kinda make sense in a way. Like father like son/j humanity would probably see themself in their creations. Earth have a long list of war and conflict with eachother. Seeing history repeating itself on Cybertron, i like to think we would help or guide them (or at least try).

Now, i have some ideas for how the bots would react: under cut↓

One - humans are seen as myth on Cybertron (for example: the concept of some higher being created us- or aliens). Some would probably think we're not...real? they're baffled to meet their og creators (or Primus's creators) that they once thought were just myth. Oh, and SOME bots would fall into existential crisis (like Tyrest hehehehehe) since I remember there's the whole xenophoic or organic-phobic thing too.

Two - they have zero idea who we are, we're a complete new species to them. Didn't know they were created by us in the first place and would have a hard time believing so. Again with some of the xenophoics, this time in denial until we proved it and then they went into existential crisis again.

Three - this is mostly just to stroke my slight god complex, but heyyyyyy what if they looked up to us. Having created the cybertronians, i imagine it's possible they would recognize n heck even have relics or records. I think this would make a bit more sense if placed in TFA, maybe then it'd explain why there's ninjas robots. Possibly learn and took some inspirations from it. Also it would be kinda funny to see human slangs written in history datapads, 'ligma' and 'updog' being the cause of multiple arguments among the scientists- ok ok I'll stop now.

Sorry for ranting so much!

[icecream4starscream]

Hasbro just really hates Starscream, don't they?

[arken0]

Falling Star

[therocketeer0501]

He’s extremely worried about her 💕

[lets-try-some-writing]

A more humorous concept.

Cybertronians, despite being non-organic in origin, do in fact have to shed their bulky outer armor every now and then. Old plates get brittle or otherwise damaged over time, and while rather energon consuming to regrow, sometimes it just has to happen, especially if rust or other nasty stuff has gotten into it. The missing plates regrow in relatively short order and the shedding only occurs after sufficient damage it taken or once every few vorns or so. Sometimes, the plates can even be removed by a medic with a quick visit if they are loose enough. The only problem with this? Everyone experiences something a little different.

Poor Ratchet suffers from what amounts to alien chickenpox. In order to get all his old armor off, he claws at it like there's no tomorrow. He will die before being caught trying to drag himself along the ground or rubbing himself up against various textured surfaces to get old armor off, but it has happened. It still happens when he's pretty sure he's alone. Optimus was there to watch Ratchet roll around on the Archive carpet many times.

Arcee is lucky in that all her old armor tends to drop within a few hours, but without it, she can't regulate her internal temperature very well. To compensate, she practically turns into a space heater as her systems kick into overdrive. The kids can't touch her without getting burned and the team are left yelping whenever she touches them when they aren't prepared for it.

Bulkhead is forced to endure losing his plates agonizingly slowly. He'll lose a plate, a new one will grow in. He's in a near never ending state of shedding. And so, much to Miko's horror, he'll just lose pieces sometimes. He's not all that concerned since the shedding, while continuous, is so slow. But the humans? It still startles them to hear an ominous THUNK out of nowhere and see a chunk of metal on the ground.

Ultra Magnus, much to his chagrin, turns into a beacon every time he sheds. His already vibrant colors come in even brighter as new armor grows into place. And so for a few weeks, he looks like an exotic fruit of neon blue, bright red, and blinding silver. Sunglasses are required.

Wheeljack likes to say he never sheds, but when he does, he recharges like the DEAD. Growing in new armor is very biologically taxing, and rather than suffering from other side effects, Wheeljack just takes a really long nap. He'll recharge for days at a time, getting up only to raid the fridge and then pass back out again until his armor is back where it should be. The humans have no clue he sheds armor because of this. But Bulkhead knows. He's been the one paying for Wheeljack's shed time groceries since before the war.

Smokescreen has only shed a handful of times, and all those times he was usually instructed to keep out of the way since he was in danger of being skewered without his armor. So now, whenever he sheds, despite experiencing no negative side effects, he instinctually goes to hide somewhere dark and safe until his armor grows back in. This has led to several incidents of someone screaming like a little girl as a spindly Smokescreen capitalizes on his status to scare people whenever they turn on the lights.

Bumblebee doesn't necessarily suffer whenever he sheds old armor, but he's just uncomfortable to look at. The scout tends to look like a plucked chicken whenever he loses his armor, and due to the weight shift when he losses so much mass, he hunches over oddly. In total, he looks a bit ghoulish and it actually hurts the team to witness, so usually he's given a few days off to get himself in order.

Optimus is in a similar boat to Ultra Magnus and Bumblebee on the rare occasion he sheds old armor. He always gives Ratchet a scare by going entirely grey about a week before the shed actually begins. He loses any and all color in affected areas and then proceeds to lose exactly all his armor within a few hours. Then he's left looking like a gangly half grown youngling due to the length of his arms and legs compared to the rest of his body. Megatron never ceases to mock him whenever it happens, but when Optimus's armor comes back in, his shoulders always come in bigger and sharper than before, a fact Megatron despises.

[raileurta]

When people talk about the pain of a relationship between a basically immortal transformer and a very mortal human who lives only one of their Cybertronian's years (Vorn: 83 years) I am reminded of the sorta real world example of this.

Pet rats on average tend to live 2-3 years and people will still care for them despite their extremely short life span. This is absolutely heartbreaking for owners as a lot of them see their rats or people just in general, see pets as their children/family. They can care for them to the best of their ability but they still die so soon. They can even can get sick or have a accident cutting their life span even shorter.

There's this sort of guilt that must come with it; feeling inadequate as you "failed" this being relied solely on you. Why are they dying so soon? Why couldn't I be better? Is this my fault? You can't really change nature but you can look at it from a different perspective. (Cheesey I know)

While for Cybertronians humans are just a blip for them for these people bots are there for their entire lifespan. The transformer will be a constant throughout it all and be with their person until the bitter end. They will never know a life outside of their love; The metal hands that cradle them in their own form of softness. The breeze as they feel as they sit on their shoulder. Even in the face of knowing this organic will never always be there to ride in their alt mode, scamper over their frame, or just by their side. They will still be with them; this is a privilege and a burden they must carry within their sparks.

You might find that a human can change a bot's entire perspective on life and even the world itself; because they live so short everyday is a precious one. They must make the most of the time you have left. It can't be wasted in entropy, just slugging through it. This would be a dishonor to their human and a dishonor to themselves.

Which in that case I feel the inevitable heartbreak is well worth it for the bot in the end. They just can be there, and that's the greatest gift of them all.

[lovinglonerhybrid]

Has anyone stoped to think that the bots on team prime might be considered tame for cybertronians. Like there so worried about scaring the humans because they recognize the threat that humanity poses to there survival on earth. If they could make a rated r transformers show or movie that would be so sick because we tend to forget that these are ALIENS! Give me the normalized cannibalism the experimentation on lower classes the highly deadly sports of not just gladiator games but deadly racing and air shows. Give me mutated mechanimals and sparkeaters. Show us the worst of cybertron and then how the war made it even worse. Insecticons made into ruthless killers. Bots reformatted into weapons of mass destruction. Mechs being starved out and attacking their comrades. The freaky torture that bots can inflict on one another. The bots on earth are tame, if only humanity knew what lurked among the stars.

[the-decepticon-apologist]

Me trying to remember the plot for the TF fanfic I was writing after I haven’t touched it for 7 months:

[no-hhamani]

Cybertronian car courting tradition but they're jumping like Lowriders

[scarlett-ggv]

Giving up is not an option

Jazz x Reader - NSFW to the last

Maybe it was the distant roar of an engine filling the air or the way the sunlight reflected off his polished chassis that made you look at him twice. Jazz had always been confident, from the first moment his wheels touched the ground of Cybertron to every sharp turn he took on Earth. There was never hesitation in the way he moved, never uncertainty in the way he tilted his head with that effortless self-assurance. He didn’t need words to prove what he already knew: he was strong, fast, agile. And most importantly, he was attractive.

When he began working alongside Optimus Prime, he learned to live with the attention. Stares filled with admiration, whispers among bots every time he passed by. He had gone from being just another Autobot to one of Optimus’ most loyal companions. It didn’t matter if he was in his original form or transformed into a pristine car—eyes were always on him. And he did nothing to avoid them; in fact, sometimes he sought them out, reveling in the sensation of being watched, of being desired.

But with you, everything was different.

He didn’t need to show off. He didn’t need to do too much. He moved naturally around you, lighting up only for you. He knew how to find you at just the right moment, how to make sure you felt seen, protected. Everything was there, planned without words, understood without explanations.

And when he was truly interested, he made it clear in gestures only you could notice. A touch that seemed accidental when he handed you a tool, the light brush of his metal fingers against your arm, his thumb barely grazing you—a touch so soft it was almost not a touch at all. He left you wondering: had that been intentional? Or was it just part of his playful nature?

Maybe in those fleeting moments when his hand rested low on your back, firm but unhurried, guiding you through a crowd as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Maybe in the way his engine vibrated ever so slightly when you were too close, when the warmth of your body against his hood forced him to regulate his internal temperature.

Jazz always found a way to say everything. He wasn’t in a rush. He didn’t need to hurry. Because at the end of the day, the goal wasn’t just to get your attention—it was to make sure that when he finally reached for you, you were more than ready to receive him.

He had never felt insecure about himself—until that night.

It had always been an honor to take you anywhere in his vehicle form, to cover miles with you at the wheel, feeling the exhilaration of speed and the shared freedom. He loved the way everyone looked at you when you arrived—dazzling, radiant… and in a car that only made your presence even more striking. Proud, satisfied, he always enjoyed those moments.

But this time was different.

He had come to pick you up from an elegant, open-air party. Warm lights floated over the scene, like stars caught in invisible threads.

Maybe it was the golden glow of the evening filtering through the string lights above, or the distant sound of a saxophone drifting through the air like a whispered lullaby. Or maybe it was simply the weight of an unexpected thought, a strange feeling he had never known before.

Jazz saw you.

Among the crowd, amidst the laughter and conversation, his gaze found you effortlessly, as if the universe itself had guided him there. But this time, it wasn’t like before. This time, it wasn’t just admiration.

It was more.

There you were, sitting, wearing a black dress that clung to your figure as if it had been made for you and only you. The fabric cascaded down to the ground with impossible elegance, leaving your shoulders bare, exposing your neck, the soft curve of your collarbone. Golden jewelry gleamed against your skin, and your makeup was nothing more than a whisper of light across your face. Perfect. Unreal. So beautiful it hurt.

And then, he saw him.

A human.

A good-looking man who leaned in slightly as he spoke to you, a confident smile on his lips—the kind of confidence that came from knowing he had a chance.

Something inside Jazz sank.

For the first time, he realized what the difference between you truly meant.

That man could ask you out without hesitation, could take your hand without thinking twice, could whisper something in your ear and make you laugh in that way Jazz longed to.

He couldn’t.

Because at the end of the day, Jazz wasn’t human.

And that truth, the one he had always known but had never really felt like a barrier, hit him like a shot straight into the Spark.

For a moment, just one fleeting second, he wondered if everything he had felt, all the hope he had nurtured inside him, was nothing more than an impossible dream.

But then, you smiled.

Not at the man talking to you.

At him.

And in that instant, when your eyes sought his through the crowd, when your lips curved into a soft, genuine smile upon seeing him waiting for you, he understood something else.

Maybe the world would always remind him that you were different.

Maybe others would think he could never be enough for you.

But Jazz was never one to give up.

And this time, he wouldn’t be the exception. You were going to be his, no matter what.

<-------------------------------------------------->

The sound of his hips set a frantic rhythm, a desperate pace that spoke of nights of unsatisfied longing, of a desire that had burned in silence until it became unbearable. Jazz had her right beneath him, trapped between his body and the cold metallic surface he had so easily lifted her onto. His hands firm, large, and warm held her in place, gripping her as if he feared she might disappear if he let go.

The contrast between the hardness of his structure and the softness of her skin was intoxicating. He moved with precision, each thrust deep, driven by the voracious need to feel her in every fiber of his being. Her moans were the melody guiding his movements, and every sound that escaped her lips pushed him to go deeper, to claim every inch of her with his imposing presence. The sensation of her surrounding him was a delicious torture, a searing paradise that consumed him from the inside out.

Jazz’s fingers traced down her spine, gripping her hips with urgency, lifting her effortlessly to sink even deeper. His name spilled from her lips in a breathless gasp, a strangled cry that made him growl in response, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down her spine. The damp heat of her skin, the sweat beading along her collarbone, the trembling of her legs tightening around him… it all drove him wild, made him lose himself in her.

Movements became erratic, urgent, the tension thick in the air, woven from desire and friction. His grip tightened, his lips found her neck, biting down gently, tasting the salt of her skin before capturing her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss—a clash of tongues and ragged breaths that made them both shudder. He felt her unravel beneath him, her body arching with a strangled cry as she shattered completely, dragging him along into the abyss of pleasure.

For a moment, he remained still, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure rippling through his system, lighting up every circuit, every connection. She lay beneath him, chest rising and falling as wildly as his own. Jazz opened his optics, taking in the sight of her—flushed, satisfied, lips trembling around a smile that was just beginning to form.

And then, he smiled too.

No words were needed. None were necessary. Just that shared look, that silent understanding brimming with unspoken emotions. Every effort, every doubt, every night spent wondering if he could ever reach her… it had all been worth it.

Jazz had done it.

She was his. <----------------------------------------------->

El traductor es una kk - Writing about my man is my passion, forgive me if there are any spelling mistakes. The translator and I are competing over who is whose bitch HAHAHA MAUAJJAJAJ bueno

OK Jazz MY MAN Quiero que me preñe aaah. Maybe next time I'll write about Starscream. idk

[michaela-o]

( sound on <33 )

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

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

[cheschesterpossum]

Humans are cats but what if Cybertronians are dogs?

Im going crazy over how big of an impact human can make on a bot. Despite humans so much short lived compared to them, they formed a bond that could last forever.

A self indulge hc of mine: human's bond with their alien robot buddies have an effect on the spark as well, leaving a permanent print on it if the bond goes deep. Their bot buddy want to sparkbond, but that's physically impossible, so a part of the cyb's spark would always look out and yearn for their human buddy.

So whenever their human bud is around or is found somewhere, could be from a distant or they hear their voice- the spark goes "OMG OMG LITTLE AMICA/CONJUX IS HERE, THEY'RE HERE THEY'RE HERE THEY'RE HERE <33333"

You would have to get used to being randomly picked up or snatched, and seeing your robot friend in their alt-mode appearing outside your front yard.

If some bots are weird or unhinged enough, they'd lick your face idk.

Considering humans are a lot smaller and more fragile, cybs tend to get protective over their charges. Is like scary dog privilege, your personal bodyguard. Being able to trust someone so big and dangerous to not hurt you, the dream.

A bit territorial/possessive over their human. I think their equivalent of barking is aggressively loud honking toward eachother. Get a leash or something if your cyb have rabies.

Megatron: fleshie, just because I tolerate you a little more than the other, doesn't mean I will give you special treatment-

Human: who's a good warlord?

Megatron: meeeeeeeee (〃´ω`〃)

[bluespider008]

This? Whaddya'all think?