namelesskn1ght

[namelesskn1ght]

The summer breeze.

TF Prime Ratchet x Reader

I’m getting a little attached to this guy.

Leaning against the rusty railing, you watch him closely as he works on something that you are not sure what it is for or even what it is; but it’s kind of entertaining to see him busy with his alien stuff which you barely understand. Like when you were little and watched a family member repairing or assembling something without you knowing its use, but you found it strangely entertaining and relaxing to watch all the same. A little feeling of nostalgia and he makes you feel that, watching him work makes you feel relaxed in some way, even though he is the least calm and gentle person in the place.

When you ended up here due to an unwanted encounter, you found it certainly disturbing that there were children here; almost too attached to these otherworldly beings for some reason you had trouble understanding, but over time you understood and got used to them. Inevitably, you grew fond of them too. Due to your almost nonexistent thirst for action, you spend most of your time in the old hangar. From time to time it is more lively due to the presence of the children and some bots. But most days it’s just you and Ratchet sharing the same space in silence with little interaction.

Sometimes you have a sneaking suspicion that he isn’t completely comfortable with your presence, even if he doesn’t show it with words. It’s the fleeting glances he throws you, those small, awkward expressions and gestures he makes that give you those little clues that maybe he doesn’t want you here. Although, maybe you’re just overthinking things and he probably doesn’t mind your presence.

You shouldn’t care what he thinks, but somehow you always find an excuse to do it, you want to do it. Because his company and small interactions make you yearn for more, because he’s the only one you spend most days with, although silent, they are often pleasant. He’s pleasant. You’re terrified that you’ll end up scaring him away by trying to overcome the barrier between you.

· He can still feel your gaze on him no matter how much he tries to ignore it, to avoid your silent and pleasant presence. He’d had enough with Fowler and those noisy little humans, but you turned out to be almost another world when you arrived. Silent and calm were words that described you perfectly. Always keeping that curious eye on him when no one else was around, whether at work or whatever he was doing. Sometimes even when you’re not alone together. He doesn’t understand your interest in him; there are other bots and humans who could provide better company, more pleasant and friendly, but it still seems like you want him to be that someone you can spend your days with, why? “Don’t you have anything to do?” He asks subtly, his gaze fixed on his work. But inevitably, he glances at you without really meaning to. He can’t see your face because you’ve turned around unexpectedly. “Does it bother you that I look at you?” You ask in return, he perceives a change in your tone of voice that is not usual, insecure perhaps? And he almost feels strange to worry about that change.

“It’s not that, it was just... a question.” His disinterested tone changes subtly, something a little softer. You look at him, his gaze fixed on what he’s doing. His answer doesn’t feel entirely right; it sounds more like a reassuring response than an honest one. You remain silent, not knowing how to respond, your body slowly falling until you sit on the warm metal floor, staring into space through the bars. You would like to ask him if he feels uncomfortable by your presence to clear up your doubts, but you fear the negative response that always hangs in your head as a very real possibility about what he might respond to your concerns. Because you’ve found a small comfort in his presence, even if the interactions are few, that’s more than enough for you, it’s more than you’ve ever had in a long time.

· He looks at you sideways again, this time voluntarily. He finds you sitting on the floor of the platform, almost hugging your legs while your chin rests on the back of your hands, with such a pitiful expression that it makes him feel a small prick in his spark. He doesn’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but he doesn’t like it. He could almost regret it before he speaks. “Do you want to take a closer look at what I’m doing?” He asks in a low voice, almost a whisper. Part of him hopes you didn’t hear him, and he turns his head completely to look at you, the first thing he finds are those little eyes of yours looking at him with an emotion that is a sufficient sign that you have heard him.

Did you hear what you think you heard or did he ask you something else? And he approaches you, extending a servo for you to join him in a silent invitation, while now his optics are fixed on you. As you stood up to approach him, your heart pounding harder each time, brushing your hand against his large servo for the first time. Strangely soft and warm.

· He watches you position yourself on his servo with difficulty, noticing how you try not to touch him but can’t avoid do so when he starts walking. He pulls you up to his shoulder so you can sit on him and look down from his height, feeling your soft little hands gripping parts of his armor for balance. He feels strange doing this, but he felt the need to do it inexplicably, wanting you to be okay. “Are you okay there?” He asks, hunching slightly, hearing an affirmative murmur in response.

From where you’re standing, you can see what he’s doing from his perspective, feeling nerves in bloom of skin at how strangely intimate this feels, at that small show of kindness. He usually works in silence because of what you seen since you arrived here, but now he’s superficially explaining to you what he’s doing and what each thing is for. Even though you may forget much of the explanation, you appreciate that he’s trying to explain it to you so you can be on the same page. You listen to him, slowly losing track of the words to focus on his voice, his strangely soft voice. So charming somehow. This is all probably a one time weirdness, but that’s okay, that’s enough for you.

I heard his voice in english today for the first time and it’s really lovely ahggg.

[namelesskn1ght]

Hey, I love your Megatron works, its so good and interesting!! I hope you continue <33

I’m so glad you like my nonsense. <3

The beginning pt2.

Skybound Megatron x Reader

Frustration still runs through its circuits but not as aggressively as before, thinking that if only he could have seen even a little, or if you hadn’t even been with him, everything would have been different. A massacre because of the insolence of those actions, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t risk putting you in danger.

He listens to the sound of the flames; night has fallen unexpectedly, although it doesn’t make a difference to him, but it does to you. Your vision wasn’t that good in the dark, almost decent. He hears you shiver slightly, the only sound you’ve made in some time, your voice remaining silent since then. Even though he doesn’t really care. He just needs those organic little eyes of yours until he can get his own back.

· You watch the flames and sparks of your temporary bonfire while you still feel the burning of the wound on your thigh. You didn’t say anything to him, you found no reason to do so. You still think about what happened; at that moment you didn’t believe that could be a possibility, but it was actually a very realistic possibility. And because of you, all you got was them both hurt. Always acting before thinking things through. So stupid.

· Your gaze turns back to him, who is sitting in front of you against a large natural stone structure. The more you look at him, the more intimidating he seems because of his large size, he could easily finish you off if he wanted to but the fact is that he won’t do it which makes you discard that fear of him. You still feel that desire to talk to him, to know about him, but there’s that fear that you might upset him, but you still want to try.

‘Megatron, can I ask you something?’ Your low, uncertain voice echoes unexpectedly, almost taking him by surprise. “Sure.” He answers softly. Because if he wants to keep you faithful by his side, he needs to be patient with you. He won’t hurt to answer your questions either. ‘What will you do when you meet up with your soldiers? Will you leave?’ You ask almost cautiously, and that uncertainty seems into your processor. He must find Prime, if he’s still alive, but after that? He’s not sure yet.

· And he doesn’t answer you, staying silent as if he doesn’t know what to say. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” You try to reassure him, because his silence could be an answer, an uncertainty without clarity. Suddenly a shudder runs through you, the cold becoming more and more insistent as the night passed. You hug yourself in a futile attempt to evade the cold, curling into a ball.

· ‘Come, come closer to me.’ The way he asks you makes you unable to resist coming closer; it’s just a small request. With effort you get up, limping as you approach him, your icy breath spreading through the air as moans of pain escape you. Looking up, his expression shows doubt as you notice his arm moving out of the corner of your eye, following the movement with the gaze, his servo lowers until it’s almost on the ground. ‘Touch my servo.’ And that sounds more like an order but you obey, your cold and trembling hands reach out to touch his metallic palm, so warm despite the cold that surrounds the environment that you would chase that warmth until you lay down on him if it weren’t inappropriate to do so. His fingers wrap around you in a swift motion that leaves you breathless, pulling you closer to his chassis to let you rest on it, his servo still firm, covering your body from the cold.

· And this closeness makes you nervous because of how strangely intimate it feels. Soaking in his warmth as the tiredness that was chasing you finally catches up with you,  head moving until it rests on his chassis, listening to his internal systems and something else, almost like a buzzing sound, is it his heart?

‘Thank you.’ You say thanks almost in a whisper, feeling your hand gently resting almost in the center of his emblem, where his spark would be. He’s disturbed by the gentle way you touch him. If you weren’t so fragile and weak I wouldn’t do this, but those pitiful little noises you made you look like you were suffering a lot. How can you even survive on your own planet alone?

Inexplicably, he still can’t stop thinking about those sounds you made when you approached him. Are you hurt and you haven’t said anything? And he tenses for a brief moment, because now he doesn’t know how to handle that small genuine concern he just felt.

Previous

[namelesskn1ght]

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Just a dreamy knight who yearns share a piece of her soul in the form of writings so that others can appreciate them.

I decided to make a little masterlist so I could have everything more organized in the future.

I feel I must warn you that there will be obscenity from time to time (not something I focus on because I’m more likely to write comfort, drama, or anything tender) so if you are a minor please DO NOT read those writings.

English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are any spelling mistakes or anything I’m not aware of.

Suggestions and requests are welcome!

─────────

TRANSFORMERS SKYBOUND

Optimus Prime A temporary consolation

Megatron The beginning

TRANSFORMERS ANIMATED

Optimus Prime Even though it hurts

Waspinator Tender Sugar- scenario 🔞

Autobots, Decepticons Bones- scenario

TRANSFORMERS PRIME

Optimus Prime One who craves souls

Megatron Let strength be granted

Ratchet The summer breeze

TRANSFORMERS ONE

B-127 The warmht of your skin- escenario 🔞

\[T]/

[namelesskn1ght]

Even though it hurts.

TFA Optimus Prime x Reader Content: reader sensitive to loud noises, you watch the fireworks with Optimus.

If I didn’t write a story about my favorite Optimus soon, I was going to explode.

In fact, the agony and suffering I’ve been going through these past few days inspired me to write this. (I’m a VERY sensitive person to loud noises, and for a week where I live, they were setting off fireworks ALL day, EVERY day. Obviously, my ears and my heart weren’t too amused.) Well, I hope you enjoy this. <3

Under the cold blanket of night, his gaze lowers from the sky full of white specks to find Bumblebee and Sari running back and forth, looking away to find Bulkhead who is intently observing the same sky that he himself was observing just a few moments ago, excited for the fireworks that are about to arrive. He can almost feel out of place at times like this, as if everyone belongs there except him.

And he almost regretted coming. Because when he asked Sari if he could come along too, he thought he’d be accompanied for one night and maybe be able to distract himself a little watching the explosions of color. But now he only sees them from a distance, sitting as he waits, with some curious glances on him. If only they were just kind glances or maybe someone was willing to talk to him, but they just look at him as if they know he doesn’t belong there, that he shouldn’t be there and that only distresses him. Suffocated beyond belief, he gets up, moving away from the crowd with the intention of returning to the hangar. His presence is not needed here, he no longer finds any reason to stay here. All around him, as he carefully advances, he can see some humans with their loved ones, laughing and playing, sharing and experiencing the moment before the fireworks, and envy and anguish intertwine like a poorly tied knot. Because even though he has his team and Sari, they always go about their business; they don’t need him.

And the feeling of loneliness clings even tighter to his spark, like an awkward embrace that never seems to end. Will he ever be able to stop feeling this way forever?

Suddenly, his audio receivers pick up an almost violent discussion. Not the happiness he's been hearing since he arrived here. His optics scan the surroundings until he finds them. A small group of humans talking, one of them seemingly bothering another. He shouldn’t butt in where he’s not called, but he still can’t avoid approach for check in to make sure everything’s okay.

· “Give it to me, you know I don’t like these jokes.” You say, your voice rising, distress deepening as you reach for your headphones, but he keeps pulling them away from your cold hands. ‘Stop acting like that, enjoy the party. A little noise and people won’t hurt you.’ He replies in a tone that is anything but kind. ‘You’re overdramatizing.’ Frustrated, you look around, hoping someone or one of your friends is willing to help you put an end to this stupidity, but they just watch. Some even laugh. Why would this be funny? ‘Is everything okay here?’ A friendly voice echoes behind you, almost robotic. When you turn around, you quickly recognize the red and blue pattern. Before you can say anything, you’re pulled away, almost knocked to the ground. ‘Yes, everything’s fine! It’s a great honor to meet you in person.’ And him drop your headphones on the floor, feeling the urge to push him so he swallows grass.

And he feels a small pang of annoyance as he watches that human nearly knock you off your feet when he pushes you away. Why can’t they act normal? His attention shifts to you, noticing how you fade into the distance. When did you go so far away? And without thinking, he pursues you, driven by that need to help that his spark always sings about, even though they rarely hear him, he still keeps trying. Because that’s who he is, always wanting to help.

· As you walk down the road, you hear heavy footsteps behind you, almost shaking the asphalt. Turning around, startled, you find him. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’ He apologizes almost guilty, moving your headphones away to rest them on the back of your neck to hear him better, he continues. ‘I saw you walking away quietly and wanted to make sure you were okay.’ Was he worried about you? Why? “That’s very kind of you. I’m fine. I just didn’t feel comfortable being there and wanted to leave.” You explain slowly, as the words begin to flow. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m sure you have much more important things to do than help a stranger.”

· And a small, nervous smile escapes you before you turn around and resume your walk. And the further you walk, you can feel his footsteps behind you, as if he’s not satisfied with your answer. ‘I care about the life on this planet. I want to help those who need it.’ He almost sounds frustrated. ‘And I saw you and thought maybe you needed help.’ Now you’re looking at him, those glowing blue optics meet your eyes, and as if he can’t hold your gaze, he lowers his head, touching the front of his helmet with his servo to hide from your gaze. ‘Sorry, I won’t insist.’ And before you can say anything, a loud explosion startles you, making your heart hammer against your ribs.

And his gaze turns to his side, seeing how various colors momentarily tint the dark sky. Hearing a pitiful sound as several explosions go off at once, he looks towards you and sees you with that strange thing covering your ears, with both of your little hands shaking on either side. And he leans closer to you, bending down until his knee touches the asphalt, and you look in his direction. Your expression shows almost discomfort and something else he can’t decipher. Are you sensitive to loud noises? And he’s almost tempted to hold you with his servos because you seem so scared, he feels the urge to protect you.

And an idea popped into his processor.

· You see him transform into that fire truck shape as he tells you something you can’t quite hear, and the driver’s door opens in invitation. Does he want you to come in? Cautiously, you step inside, and the door closes on its own. The sound of the fireworks isn’t as loud anymore. Cautiously, you take off your headphones. You can still hear them, but it’s not as loud as usual. You let them rest on the back of your neck again while you look out the window at the colorful rain. “Thank you.” You say almost in a whisper, but he hears you. ‘You don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.’

You remain silent, staring out the window. He doesn’t say anything; the silence is pleasant. After this, he may never see you again, but he’ll remember this. He wants to remember it. A night where he wasn’t alone, accompanied by a stranger who shared the same feeling of anguish as him, watching the fireworks from a distance.

[namelesskn1ght]

It’s not finished yet, but I’ve been dying to show you this. <3 (I might delete this when I upload the finished drawing)

I almost never follow any drawing trends, but the one with the apple turned out to be quite pretty (and in my case, I made a strawberry instead because I don’t like apples haha’nt)

[namelesskn1ght]

The beginning.

Skybound Megatron x Reader.

This idea crossed my mind before going to sleep. I hope everything is well written, even though I don’t trust my eyes that much when I’m sleepy.

“I promise I won’t hurt you.” He says in a soft tone. He heard a scream as he moved through these unknown lands that he could not see. “As you can see, I’ve lost my servo and my optics.” Because if he can soften your heart enough, maybe you could help him find his soldiers. “I’m lost, I need kind optics to guide me to my soldiers.” And suddenly he feels hands that are too small on his foot, and the corner of his lips curls slightly. Did he convince you so easily? Such a docile, naive thing.

· You’re scared as you stand under his feet, but that voice was so kind and gentle that you don’t even believe it could harbor any malice. You pity him even though he scares you, because you too are lost and both of you could find the path to your destinies. “I will. I’ll be your eyes.” With your gaze fixed on him, where there should be a kind gaze, you finally say with a slight tremor in your voice. ‘I’m grateful to you from the bottom of my spark, little one.’ He replies with a warmth that makes your cheeks burn slightly.

· And he suddenly leans down, and he extends his servo until it is almost at your level. You approach fearfully, reaching out a hand to touch his palm. Hot metal. You look up instinctively, he can’t see you, but you can feel the weight of a gaze that doesn’t exist. “Do you want me to climb onto your hand?” You ask, the trembling still in your voice, but the fear is almost gone. ‘You’ll be better off on my shoulder, you’ll be able to see everything more broadly.’ Breathing deeply, you position yourself on his servo as best you can, closing your eyes tightly as you feel his fingers wrap around your body.

And as he lifts you up, there’s a discomfort in holding something so soft and squishy. Something that feels so fragile and could break with any touch. He gently pulls you up to his shoulder, listening to you exhale heavily, feeling your little hands on him until you sit there, almost feeling yourself against the side of his helmet. ‘I can see everything better from here.’ Your voice says, almost with a spark of excitement. "What do you see, little one?" He feels you moving over him, perhaps looking around. ‘To your left, I can see some lights in the distance.’ You announce hopefully, and without wasting time he turns to advance towards those lights that only you can see. With a little luck, maybe he can find one of his warriors nearby, and when you cease to be of use to him, perhaps he will let you live as a reward for your selfless help.

· And your brain might almost collapse from how surreal and exciting this situation is. Still in disbelief that the aliens could be so kind, will his other companions be as well? Your curious spirit longs to ask him many questions about where he comes from, his story, and how he ended up here. But shyness prevents you from doing so, even though the desire to know is almost overtaking that strong shyness. “What’s your name?” You blurt out, your heart racing as that soft voice answers your question, adding his title as leader of his faction almost proudly. He unexpectedly asks about yours, feeling the butterflies fluttering in your stomach from the nerves, when you reveal it, your name in his voice almost sounds charming as he repeats it to himself, as if he wants to remember it. And you hope you can remember his name and this moment eternally.

Next

[namelesskn1ght]

I'd love to see a continuation of your Megatron story! Just to see him deluding himself into thinking that you return his affections while also trying to deny he has any affection at all. And there's you just playing along so you're not tortured any more. But then eventually, you're no longer just playing along.

You don't have to write anything like this, I just wanted to throw an idea your way!

I was going to leave this as a random scenario but I might try to write more about this idea.

Let strength be granted pt2.

TFP Megatron x Reader. Content: Megatron makes a decision he regrets.

· And the silence is fracture by the sound of the door. Anticipating his steps you hide under the quilted blanket, pretending to sleep on your soft, smooth bed as his footsteps get closer and closer. Always approaching your cage when he returns, as if he wants to see you after spending most of the day outside, but you don’t have the same desire as him. Because even though he’s become strangely kind even to be him, avoiding making your life a misery even though you still feel that way, it could all be a trap. A new way to destroy what little sanity remains in you, and even though you’re not sure of his intentions because of how unpredictable he is sometimes, you’re not willing to fall for whatever this is now.

When he gets close enough, he find you sleeping. It’s not that you don’t do anything else when he sees you, but he begins to suspect that it’s a way of avoiding him. And he gets closer and closer to your little glass home, and his servo, as if it were not part of him, approaches you almost against his will, his finger being close to caressing that silky hair of yours but he stops suddenly when his finger sinks lightly into the pillow next to your head. Doing that feels incorrect in some ways, because it’s something he shouldn’t be doing. Seeking your touch, seeking your figure from a distance, hoping you’ll speak to him. You distract him from his most important priorities, your image reaching his processor when he’s calm. Tormenting his mind like a punishment.

Is he going softening for a mere organic? And the question makes him shudder. And he pulls back his servo in disgust, almost frightened. He moves away from you, glancing at your tiny head one last time before turning and walking away.

· And his footsteps are distant. why he decided to leave so soon? A dull sound comes as he leaves his footsteps, but it’s different; it’s not the familiar sound of that weird door, it’s something else. From under the blankets, you slowly poke your head out from under your eyes, cautiously opening your eyelids. The first thing you see from a distance is that large gray figure sitting on that uncomfortable metal bed. The way he seems to stare off into space, lost. Something you rarely see. And deep down, you can’t avoid to feel pity...

· No, why do you feel pity for this monster? It must be Stockholm syndrome rotting away your broken brain. You bury that pity until it’s almost extinct, burying your head in the blanket. Thinking of other things to distract your mind, daydreaming that you’re somewhere else. That you’re free.

· And his footsteps are close again, and without warning you are stripped of the comfort of your bed, your blanket leaving your skin as the cold air of the room penetrates your skin until it makes you shiver. His servo coils around you, looking at him with a little anxiety, finding him staring straight ahead, his heavy footsteps breaking the brief silence that existed until both leave the room. Moving forward through the long corridors of the Nemesis.

· You don’t question where he’s taking you, sometimes he takes you with him on his shoulder so you can accompany him to do his alien things that you care little or nothing about. But the uncertainty of why you’re still on his servo still haunts your mind. Because he hasn’t done it since those early days when it all began.

· And it’s a strange surprise when both step outside the ship. The blue sky is deeper than you’ve ever seen it, with the sun shining so warmly that it makes the strong, icy breeze feel less unpleasant. You could almost cry. When was the last time you saw the sky since this senseless hell began? You don’t remember. You stopped counting as the weeks passed. The corner of your lips curls as you take in the sky in all its splendor, almost without realizing that he is taking you to the edge of the ship, too close to the edge.

And almost against his will, he looks toward you when he hears a small sob. Those small, translucent tears slide down your flushed cheeks while that small smile grows ever more radiant. No, don’t look. Because he almost feels incapable of doing so, but it’s the right thing to do, what he should have done from the first moment he found you. And his servo extends firmly toward the horizon.

And you look back to make it difficult, meeting his gaze. Your eyes reflect a silent gratitude that makes his servo tense.

If only he could do it with his own servos.

And he opens his servo almost with effort, feeling your little hands cling to his servo as you slip from his grasp. It’ll be fast, as if you’d never existed. If your heart doesn’t stop during the fall, it will when you reach the surface. Your eyes beg for mercy, almost managing to penetrate his unbreakable shield.

And when you glide and almost disappear into the distance you scream his name.

And your voice touches something inside him, and as if his body had been possessed he stretches his servo without being able to catch you in time. Falling into the abyss of the clouds to find you, he manages to reach you and immediately hears you scream in pain as his servo wraps around you too tightly. Transforming around you, it propels itself upward, returning to its original form when it reaches the base of the ship. As he sits up, he pulls you against his chassis as he moves toward the entrance, your heart hammering frantically against him, while the servo he’s holding you with trembles slightly. He hears you sobbing uncontrollably as he only pulls you closer.

What have you done to him?

Previous

[namelesskn1ght]

Bones.

TFA Autobots x Reader, TFA Decepticons x Reader. Content: reaction of the Autobots and Decepticons to you cracking your bones.

I thought the Animated Autobots and Decepticons would be a good choice to write this!

This was an idea that a user gave me, I thought it was funny enough to write it down, (and to try to vary with other situations or scenarios that are not dramatic)

Autobots.

· Lying on the couch while watching the TV screen where Bumblebee is playing some game you haven’t been paying much attention to, boredom almost makes you feel drowsy as you try to stay awake. With heaviness and closing his eyes unconsciously, you move until you raise your upper body as you stretch your arms upwards, lowering one of them until your palm brushes your shoulder as you arch your back, feeling your bones creak with that characteristic sound while you grunt from the small pleasure that doing so gives you. And when your eyes open, the first thing you see is Bumblebee’s horrified expression, staring at you as if he’d seen the inside of Pandora’s box.

“That face as if you’ve seen a ghost, is it because...?” And your sarcasm leaves him perplexed. You literally just broke something because there's no way you have’t broken something after your body sounds like that.

· And without warning, he lunges at you and grabs you with both arms, and with a quick movement, he throws you over his shoulder to jump on the couch and run somewhere you can’t see from where you are. And you hear him calling Ratchet like his life depends on it, listening to that distant growling voice until he moves you and shows you to the grumpy doctor, holding your body like you’re a stray kitten. This is so embarrassing.

“I think something just broke, I heard a horrible crack.” Bumblebee says in an overly concerned tone, gently shaking your small figure as he shows you off like a small, wounded animal. And he leans down to look at you; no reaction to pain and no wounds that he can see on the surface. “They look fine, I don’t think anything’s broken.” He says tiredly, returning to his original position to see Bumblebee’s face, unhappy with his diagnosis.

· And you can’t help but let out a small, awkward laugh. “It’s normal for bones to creak.” You explain calmly, raising your hand so it’s more visible. “It’s a way to relieve any tension, look.” And with a quick movement, you crack your wrist. “I’m fine.” And you hear Bumblebee’s small, strangled scream as Ratchet just looks on in disgust. “Don’t do that again, it’s creepy.” The latter says in an authoritative tone. You notice from a distance how Bulkhead and Optimus are approaching you.

“What’s wrong?” Optimus asks, puzzled. He moves closer until he finds you in Bumblebee’s hands, your gaze meeting his. “Nothing, those two are scared by a silly noise my bones make.” You say with a tired tone but with a small hint of amusement. “What’s this?” Bulkhead asks from behind him. “Oh, this.” And with a strange movement, your neck cracks and you’re like nothing’s happening.

· “For the love of Primus, they just broke their neck.” Bulkhead yells in fear, pointing at you as he fidgets. You don’t know if robots can cry, but you can definitely hear Bumblebee making a noise similar to a very sad puppy whine. “Please, someone tie them up, they won’t stop.” Bumblebee yells behind you. And you look back at him, glaring at him. “No one’s going to tie anyone up here. Let me go.” You wriggle like a rabid animal trying to get free. “I found a tarp.” Optimus shouts in the distance.

“Get that shit away from me.” You yell as you twist, punching Bumblebee in the face, knocking him out for a moment. “It’s for your own good.” Bulkhead says, holding up the tarp Optimus brought as he spreads it out to tie you up. “Bulk, don’t you dare.” You say defiantly. “Sorry.” He replies in return. You kick and squirm as he and Bumblebee wrap you up like a burrito. A very adorable burrito. And if looks could kill, yours could stab him to death with how sharp and full of anger it contains.

· “Let me go, this is humiliating.” you say furiously as Bulkhead carries you to the couch to sit on it, but without being able to stay stable, you fall to one side and your face hits the seat of the couch. They’ll definitely retaliate for this. “When you reflect on your actions, maybe we’ll release you.” says Bumblebee and from where you are you can’t see them but you assume they have surrounded you from behind the couch. But then his footsteps grow distant, leaving you standing there as sweat and frustration choke you. “Don’t think I’ll forget this.” You shout as you try to get out of your burrito-shaped prison.

And after watching all the absurd chaos from a distance, Prowl approaches you cautiously, lifting your head when you hear his footsteps. “You’ve been here this whole time and you haven’t prevented this absurd situation?” You say, tired and with a really annoyed tone in your voice. “Sorry, I wanted to see how this would turn out.” He says, his tone slightly amused. He crouches down to look at you face to face, and you just look at him with an expression that begs for help as you squirm a little. “You’re not going to help me, are you?” He laughs, and you just grunt, burying your face in the seat of the couch.

Decepticons.

· Sitting on Megatron’s shoulder, your limbs feel numb from not moving in a long time. Moving lazily, you stretch your hands and legs until they creak pleasantly. Hearing a comment in the distance about how disgusting your body sounds when you move, you stop and look over to where Lugnut and Blitzwing are. That single red optic staring in your direction but you assume it’s Megatron he’s staring at so much, and Blitzwing just lets out another comment about how fun it would be to crunch your whole body when that dark, maniacally grinning face shows itself. And you can only stare ahead, ignoring him because you can’t do anything, no matter how frightened you are by his empty threats. You want to believe they are.

· And you can see Megatron looking in their direction out of the corner of your eye. It could be a warning look, but you don’t want to look.

· And you crack your fingers one by one to relieve the tension, distracting yourself with the sensation. “What are you doing, dear?” Megatron says, catching you off guard. His voice always so soft. “Crack my bones?” You say uncertainly, looking up at him, only a glimpse of his optics staring straight ahead. Not knowing what else to say, you continue with your thing, switching to your other hand to crack your fingers more. “Don’t do that again, okay?” His tone remains gentle, but you sense something else: annoyance, perhaps? You’re not sure.

“Does the noise bother you?” You reply in return, feeling your small gaze on him. “I just don’t want you to do it.” Because the way those tiny bones of yours have crunched has reminded him how easily you could break, and remembering that bothers him. Why does your body have to be so fragile and small? “Okay.” You reply in a tone that vibrates with uncertainty. And he turns his head to find you out of the corner of his vision, sitting still while your little face looks bewildered. Once he is far enough out of sight of his subordinates, he raises a servo to extend a finger and caress your little face. “I won’t do it again.” You emphasize as if he needs to hear it again, and deep down, he’s grateful for it.

I’m sorry that in the Decepticons part the focus was more on Megatron, I didn’t know how to interpret the others well. :(

[namelesskn1ght]

Let strength be granted.

TF Prime Megatron x Reader Content: food issues? questionable behavior, self-destructive action, Megatron feels affection for you even if he tries to deny it.

When his sharp gaze falls upon your small figure, you hide under one of the soft, warm blankets he gave you when he catches you looking at him from your little glass cage; and your little reaction seems almost adorable to him. And that thought, however innocent and tiny it may be, he dislikes it because it is so strongly twists in his spark. 

When you were brought to him that day, he initially believed that you were only feigning ignorance of the Autobots to save any valuable information about them, and that the great fear you displayed was part of that role. But after a great storm of questions that came to nothing, he came to the conclusion that you were just an ordinary human who was oblivious to the whole situation of his war. Someone who appeared at the wrong time and was mistaken for one of those strange humans who accompany the Autobots so much. Given your uselessness, he believed the most sensible thing to do would be to eliminate you and continue with his life as if your existence had been a fleeting moment that he would forget as the day passed.

But he found a twisted amusement in your suffering, and he kept you as a pet to use for his entertainment. Your cries and screams were his daily bread: tell you how easy it would be to crush you with his servo to extinguish that small, fragile spark of yours or the equivalent of that, take you out of your little transparent prison and let you hang on his fingers until you beg with tears not to let you fall, empty threats, any cruel idea that passed through his processor to torment you. He had nothing against you, he didn’t even know you, but your suffering sometimes made him smile with amusement. 

Although, as time went by, he began to be more careful with his words and actions, almost unconsciously. 

Maybe it bothered him that you were no longer afraid of him. You didn’t react to his empty threats, not even when his servo was upon you. Absolutely nothing, as if you were dead in life. And although his annoyance at your indifference was strong, deep down he felt a little guilty about it. Because his cruelty had broken you, you were nothing like what you once were, just a piece of meat. Without words, without reaction. Nothing.

And he was more neutral with you, waiting for you to feel again so he could go back to how things were before.

Even if he doesn’t want to be like that with you anymore.

Maybe he was worried that you weren’t eating. He assumed you would need some kind of fuel sooner or later, at that moment he didn’t understand why he felt that small impulse to take care of you; but he excused himself that he had to take care of you or he wouldn’t be able to have fun with you. The first few times he dropped your organic food into your cage, you desperately went to eat it, anxious; but, inexplicably, you stopped doing so. You put your food aside, giving him the impression that you were trying to starve yourself. 

And he should have let you die of starvation, but he couldn’t. And in an impulse he can’t justify, he takes you out of your cage to take you to his bunk, moving en masse to feed you himself. You screamed and cried trying to avoid him and the food, having him hold you firmly while he fed you by force. Feeling a cluster of emotions drowning him at that moment: anger, hatred, frustration. He wanted to leave you, but something inside him couldn’t, and he hates not knowing. Not understanding it.

And from that time on, he had to force-feed you many times until you began to not resist, feeding yourself without him having to force you.

It was just a small gesture, a blanket to keep you warm, a reward for your good behavior. But your expression and your gaze sank into his spark, a silent gratitude for the softness and almost gratitude in your gaze.

Maybe he doesn’t want to be cruel to you anymore.

Maybe he’s worried about your well-being.

Maybe he’s grown attached to you, even though he doesn’t know why.

Why does he care about you so much now?

He approaches your glass cage once again, although it would no longer be appropriate to call it that; It seems more like a home because of all the furniture and objects he brought for you. A habitable dollhouse. He extends his servo, there is no reaction as he holds you and your blanket with a delicacy that almost frightens him. Luring you into his chassis as he lies back on his bunk. He covers your figure with his servo, feeling the tiny beats of your heart against his chassis, below where his spark would be.

He feels disappointed in himself for enjoying your presence so much. There’s no malice or hatred in you, just an emptiness he wants to fill, because this is his fault. Deep down, he wants to believe you’re getting used to him, that you’re growing attached in your own way. Because he can’t be the only one who feels this way, right? 

That maybe you can love him like he’s starting to.

Next

I’m running out of ideas, if anyone has any requests or ideas they’d like to read I’d be happy to write them.

[namelesskn1ght]

One who craves souls.

TF Prime Optimus Prime x Reader. Content: anguish, consolation, confession?

He takes slow steps as he enters the base, and it’s a strange surprise not to see you in sight. You usually spend most of your time here, welcoming him with a shy smile when he arrives from his patrols. Always waiting for him on the railing for him to come back. But as he approaches the small platform, His spark contracts when he finds you sitting against the sofa in a state he hasn’t seen in you since he's known you. Dejected, almost believing he saw a small tear slide down your blushing cheek. And yes it was. Because when you notice him, you brush away those tears that slide silently with the back of your small hand. Heading towards him clumsily with a happiness too broken. Approaching the railing, placing both hands on it. Looking at him with those crystalline eyes. Who or what did this to you?

· And his expression turns to a concern you rarely see in him. Do you look that bad? The weight of his gaze sinks into your chest and you avoid his gaze, lowering your head as your grip on the railing tightens. And his big finger slides gently along your chin, lifting your head so that you meet his gaze with such delicacy that you feel you might burst into tears. “It’s just a silly thing, nothing to worry about.” and your broken and pathetic tone betrays you even more. And his worried expression disappears, leaving his usual seriousness to make you feel stupid for your useless attempt to stop him from inquiring about it.

It definitely can’t be a ‘silly thing’, why are you trying to hide it? “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks you softly despite the frustration weighing on his shoulders. And you just you deny with your head, making him only want to inquiring further to know what’s wrong with you. Because he always wants to see that beautiful and tender smile that he secretly adores so much, because seeing you so broken is something he didn’t think could hurt him so much.

· “I wanted to see you.” You confess in a low voice, but he seems to hear you by the way he tenses for a moment. He is your refuge, no matter how embarrassing it may be, because he doesn’t judge you for who you are; he listens attentively the few times you speak. At this point you can’t avoid to feel the nerves take over when he looks at you and smiles so kindly, so in love with someone so different from you. And his servo extends, a silent signal for you to climb upon him, and cautiously you climb onto, still not completely used to being manipulated in this way. And he slowly brings you closer. “Would you allow me take you to a place?” and the request takes you by surprise, but you nod. Feeling a little excitement about it. And he carefully transforms around you, staying in the passenger seat. And their engines roar, then leave through where he entered just a few minutes ago, crossing the desert on a course uncertain for you.

Leaving the desert behind, they enter a dirt road surrounded by a lush forest full of life. Feeling your soft hands rest on the door to look out the window. As he reaches the end of the path, he slows down and then transforms around you. Holding you with his servo to see you clinging to one of his fingers, looking curiously around you. “We have to walk a little from here to get there.” and advancing with great strides, he enters among the trees. The sound of his footsteps and the birds singing are the only things that resonate around him. And the sound of water is closer the further he goes, chasing it until he reaches the desired place. A small waterfall that gives way to a narrow creek, with stones covered in moss and some wildflowers surrounding the area. And the emotion on your face makes any trace of sadness that had been on you disappear. And he kneels, carefully lowering his servo so that your feet touch the ground and you can walk as you please. “This place is beautiful.” And the calm and sweetness of your words reassure him.

“Where are we headed?” You ask, your tone a little more animated. And he still doesn't answer, searching for the right words to answer you. “When we get there you’ll see it, I think you’ll like it.” Try to maintain the element of surprise, it is a quiet and pleasant place that he found during his patrols. Since there was no Decepticon sign the times he went, he thought it would be a good place to take you someday. 

· You walk cautiously, looking around you. Brightly hued trees and flowers everywhere you look. As you approach the stream, you sit on the rock that has the least moss and moisture covering it. enjoying the sight of the water flowing and the sound of the leaves of the trees and plants when a gust of wind unexpectedly blows through. “I thought you might like to clear your head outside.” His comforting voice sounds too close. You turn around to find him closer in size to you, but still much larger than you. His optics are kind when he looks at you, his expression becoming softer. “You may not want to talk about it yet, but I just want you to know that you can count on me or others for whatever you need.” He gets closer and closer to you, staying at a respectable distance but still enough to make your heart pound in your chest. “You can trust us, you can trust me.” And raises his servo as if he wants to touch you, but pulls it back uncertainly. And if only you were braver, you’d grab that servo so it could touch you. If only...

And there’s something in your changing expression that he can’t quite decipher. Happiness? Shyness? Sadness? He doesn't know what certainty. You look away from him to appreciate the landscape. The silence between you is dense but fragile, accompanied only by the sound of water and the leaves of the trees. “I’m terrible with words, and even more so with actions.” You say suddenly, taking him by surprise. “Sometimes people forget about me no matter how hard I try to be in their lives. It’s not that they despise me, I’m just someone who’s too expendable and easy to forget.” And shortens the distance between you, your confession weighs on his spark. “Sometimes I think maybe no one wants someone like me in their lives.” 

· And his arms suddenly grab you from behind and envelop you in a hug so needed and warm that tears stream down your cheeks from the shock. When was the last time someone hugged you like this? Like you were all they only needed? And your trembling hands slide down his arms until you are holding him too. “Thank you.” And you sob, wanting to say something more but unable to. “You’re not expendable.” His voice sounds frustrated against your shoulder, tightening his hold. “You’re not easy to forget.” You flinch in his grasp. “I need you.” And you break down in a heartbroken cry, moving as best you can within his hug to hide your face in the mesh of his neck and cling to the seams of his armor. The shame disappearing, leaving only the desperate need to have him near. His voice sounded so fragile as he said those words, almost sounding like a love confession. Something that destroys your emotional shield very easily. And if you loved him before, he may never leave your heart and your thoughts. 

And your words pierce through their spark mercilessly like a deep stab. And even though he is not someone who is in favor of unjustified violence, would like to have some not-so-kind words for the people who hurt you this way. Because you are someone so good and kind to him and everyone else despite your inexplicable shyness. And he just wants to see that kind smile every day, hear that beautiful voice he rarely hears. Your presence, your attention. He wants it all. “I need you.” He repeats, his voice cracking with frustration and the strong emotions he forces himself to suppress every day. Your little tears wetting the mesh on his neck. And his servo moves to rest on the bottom of your head, clinging to you. Not wanting to lose this moment so soon.

I was hesitant to upload this but I thought maybe someone would feel like me and want to read something like this as a little distraction or a little comfort.

Little doodles of g1 Oppy because I love him so much.

I’d like to get a drawing tablet, because drawing digitally with IbisPaint on a phone where the screen burns like hell itself should be considered a type of medieval torture.

[namelesskn1ght]

A temporary consolation pt4.

Skybound Optimus Prime x Reader Content: Sharing a tender moment on the beach, Optimus gives you flowers.

You have no idea how hard it was for me to find a picture of him that didn’t look severely depressed.

He gently caresses your scalp, his fingers tangle in your silky hair as he watches the foamy waves crash as they reach the shore. The calm relaxes his nerves with the sound of the sea and the fresh breeze that caresses him as it passes by. The scorching heat of the fire flames is nonexistent in this place; there are no loud bangs, no screams of fury or pain. Just the fresh air and the sound of the moving sea. Just your calm breathing and your soft touch against him. Just you and him, hiding in a quiet place, away from the chaos and destruction.

His head tilts to find you still resting. Snuggled up on the small blanket you brought for the two of us, between his legs, hugging one of his thighs like a pillow. Unable to fully understand how you can rest on him with such a relaxed expression, when you often complain of pain when resting on hard surfaces. Inexplicably for you, he being the exception, as if he were the softest, smoothest thing you could have ever found on the entire planet. Always wanting to lie down on him and seek his warmth. A charm.

While carefully observing your features, he can’t avoid but feel that familiar warmth of pure happiness that so comfortingly embraces his spark. A feeling you’ve been giving him lately. Still not fully believing that he finally has someone willing to love him and be with him even though he’s a mess. His gaze turns once more towards the sea, lost in that approaching sunset. Warm and beautiful colors; fluffy clouds tinged with those hues; lurking in the surroundings, threatening to cover the sky. If only he could appreciate this more often, although lately it is not so difficult to do so. With you forcing him to distract his head even if it’s just for a few minutes, always so worried about him.

He feels little hands on his servo unexpectedly. He lowers his head again to meet those sleepy eyes of yours, looking at him with a small smile. “Did you rest well there, sleepyhead?” Ask in a low tone so as not to disturb your peace. His servo captures your hand, covering it completely, caressing the palm with the pad of his thumb.

· You don’t respond immediately. You remove your hand from his servo for a moment, sitting up heavily. You turn to look at him, with his servo still suspended in the air, and you catch it, noticing how he briefly glances at your hands and then looks back at you. “I rest well anywhere if it’s with you.” It’s a cathedral-sized cheesiness, but you know he likes it even if he doesn’t tell you. His battle mask will cover half of his face but you know he’s smiling underneath it because of those expressive optics that give him away. With a special shine reflecting off them. “And you?”

“Better than ever.” before he can pull you towards his chassis you get up from where you were sitting, releasing his servo, stretching while making those funny sounds. You turn to extend a hand to him as you bow. “I want to walk a little, will you join me?” You ask him in a sweet tone, and how could he refuse to accompany you? You rarely ask him for anything. “Of course.” He is able to stand up without help, but still take your hand, just holding it to feel the softness of your touch, standing up on its own without pulling you. Without letting go of your hand, continue your slow walk until you reach the shore. Your bare feet make contact with the cold water and you shudder with an almost silent scream, clinging to his arm at the sensation.

· They walk along the shore, the insistent breeze ruffling your hair. You glance at him from time to time, occasionally exchanging glances. In the distance, you glimpse a rocky area with small pools and without thinking twice, you head towards it. You carefully climb onto the wet rocks, avoiding the moss on some rocks to avoid slipping, before you can warn Optimus, he slips with a stifled cry, quickly getting up as if nothing had happened. “I was just going to warn you about the moss on the rocks. It’s very slippery.” You say in an amused tone, looking at him. “Tread carefully.”

Pushing aside the small feeling of shame, he clings to your arm, afraid that you might slip and hurt yourself. You lean down, moving until you are sitting on a relatively smooth rock, sinking your feet into the small natural pool. He mimics you, his feet almost touching the bottom. “Why do we do this?” He asks, turning his head in your direction as he leans slightly towards you. “The sensation of warm water on your skin is pleasant, at least I enjoy it.” You answer calmly, watching as you swing your little feet. He imitates you, with slower and more cautious movements.

· You stifle a small laugh at how he imitates some of your movements. “All right there?” He doesn’t look at you, without responding immediately, absorbed in the movement of the water as he moves his feet. “I think so.” He answers you softly, turning his head slightly for a brief moment to look at you out of the corner of his optic. You move a little from where you are sitting, moving closer to him until your thigh brushes against his. He seems to notice. And without warning, he picks you up and lifts you up effortlessly, staying between her legs with your back against his body radiating heat while his arms wrap you in a warm and comforting hug.

Sometimes he’s surprised by his own inability to bear not having you against him for so long. How is it possible that you make him feel these needs constantly? The sea breeze is more insistent than before, noticing how small petals and flowers fall from the sky. He follows the fall of the flowers from above until he finds behind him a nearby tree with beautiful flowers adorning its leaves. And a memory flashes through his processor. That day you were reading a book while he rested until his wounds healed. You read him a few pages to kill the silence, resulting in it being a romance novel. Remembering the verse you read to him at that moment, someone who courted his partner with a bouquet of flowers. “Wait a moment here.” He carefully gets up from where he was sitting, feeling your curious gaze behind him. With his great height, he’s is fortunately able to reach the branches of trees. Taking care when picking the flowers so as not to damage them, looking for the most showy and beautiful ones. Resulting in three in total. “Close your eyes.” With his back to you, he carefully holds the flowers with his index finger and thumb. “I just saw you picking the flowers.” You say, sounding amused. “But I will do it if you want.”

· With your eyes closed, you can feel your cheeks heat up as you hear his footsteps getting closer and closer, waiting with a silly smile for him to tell you to open your eyes. His servo slides gently over your cheek, feeling his lips brush against yours, melting into a tender and slightly desperate kiss. With his breath mixing with yours when he pulls away. “You can open your eyes now.” You feel a small emotion sink in your heart even though you know what you will see when you open your eyes. You find him almost kneeling, holding some flowers, with a soft and loving gaze, the corner of his lips curved into a tender, almost shy smile. And it’s much better than you could have imagined. “This is very sweet.” Your hands reach out to reach his servo, wrapping both hands around his servo. He carefully places the flowers in your hands, approaching you to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “Thank you.” 

Even though it was just an improvised courtship, the emotion in your voice for his small detail melts into his spark, longing to remember this forever. Wanting to make you this happy always. “I’ll give you a better bouquet when I get the chance.” He promises you, unsure of where he can find much prettier flowers. Because you deserve the best and he wants to court you. Be the mech you deserve.

Previous

The other day I went to the beach to clear my head a bit and I got the inspiration to do this, I didn’t know whether to consider this a chapter or a scenario but in the end I went with the former.

[namelesskn1ght]

I’ve been drawing a lot lately to get over an artistic block that’s had me trapped for almost a year.

I’m actually really embarrassed to upload my drawings to any social media because of what they’ll say, but I’m trying to overcome that fear.

The drawing here was inspired by a Waspinator fic called “Worker Bee” by @revelboo (that fic made me fall in love with that little insect again, it’s so amazing) It’s the part where the human finds the injured Wasp in the snow.

I had some fun making this one.

Maybe I could upload some more drawings if I don’t die of absolute embarrassment from doing so. (T_T)

[namelesskn1ght]

Tender Sugar.

TFA Wasp/Waspinator x Reader. Content: established relationship, valveplug. 🔞

Waspinator.

His claws slide slowly through the strands of your hair, inhaling your sweet scent, which he’s so obsessed with, feeling your arms wrap around him in a trembling hug. Even displaced masse, you’re still so small compared to him. He loves this size difference; it makes him feel so powerful. Being bigger, stronger. But sometimes he hates it; because even if you don’t tell him, he knows you’re afraid of him because of his new appearance.

His head dips down to meet your shoulder, his sharp jaw so close to your neck that you tense for fear he might accidentally cut you. With your chin on his soft, furry shoulder, you can see his wings flapping anxiously as his free servo travels from your ribs to your waist, wandering distractedly over your naked body. His new form is so disturbing, but he’s still Wasp. Waspinator now. You try to be intimate with him after all this time, and though it makes your hair stand on end when those claws slide so freely over your body, you try it for him, to show him that you too can want him, even if it costs you.

“Wasp.” You say his old name softly as he slides his glossa down your neck, feeling his spike ache behind his privacy plate just from listening and touching you. He lays you gently back onto the pillows, shifting over you to meet your gaze, their spark shattering when you avoid looking at him by hiding behind his shoulder. It hurts, but you’ll get used to it, you have to. “Spread your legs for Waspinator.” he purrs near your ear, your soft, squishy thighs sliding over his, his hips lowering to meet yours, his spike freeing to rest against your abdomen. His servo firm on your hip while he uses the other for support. Enjoying this closeness so much.

Your body tenses as you feel him align himself, hearing his frustrated grunts at not being able to get him in that position. He rises above you on his knees, intimidating you, probably unintentionally. His servos support you as he flips you onto your stomach, sliding down to reach your hips and lift your lower body. Briefly caressing the shape of your ass. Gripping one of the pillows tightly as you bury your face in it as you feel him align and penetrate your wet heat. Tears sliding down your cheeks. He’s too big.

You’re so tight. He strokes your back to ease the tension in your body, because you’re so tense and so tight that he can’t slide inside you. And he’s not even close to reaching the halfway point. “You’re doing well.” he rocks slowly as his servo slides down to your shoulder in gentle strokes, moving down to find your small hand gripping the pillow firmly, and he holds it, wanting to intertwine his fingers with yours. “I can’t do this... It’s too much.” you tell him with a pitiful whimper. He snuggles closer to you, his other servo finding your other hand hidden beneath the pillow, balled into a fist. “You’re taking Waspinator so well.” he pushes a little deeper, gently stroking your hands with his claws. “Waspinator is sure you can take more.” he feels your shudder as he brushes the side of his face against yours.

You try to relax for him, but you can’t quite manage it, guilt twisting your heart for fearing him so much. He’s still him, you force yourself to remember it again. His face caresses your cheek in an almost tender gesture as he slides deeper inside you, your body too overwhelmed and confused to hold off any longer. “Wasp, I can’t-” your own moan cuts you off as his glossa slides behind your earlobe, down to your neck, parting his jaws to bite down hard enough so it only stings. Coming back up. “Almost there... Just a little more.” he moans so softly near your ear it tickles. Feeling his length pulsing inside you as he bottoms out. The sensation is like being crushed inside.

You wrap yourself so tightly around him, he could almost overload in that instant. Proving that, either way, you’re made perfectly for him. He starts moving with slow thrusts when he feels you’re stretched enough, careful not to hurt your fragile, delicate figure, containing those primal instincts to take you aggressively until you’re both tired. Wanting to be careful and gentle this time, wanting to take his time and enjoy it like it’s the first time. Your scent changing to something hotter and needier, encouraging him to keep going when he hears your soft, low moans. Relaxing finally. Your hands loosen their grip on the pillows, and he wastes no time interlacing his fingers with yours, bringing you closer until you’re almost pressed together. 

Pleasure mixes with pain that dissipates. The accumulated saliva sliding down the corner of your parted lips, moistening the pillow. Beginning to chase his thrusts, his grip on your hands tightens progressively as he begins to increase his speed. “I missed you so much.” he says, his tone a mix of sweetness and sadness as he finishes. “Me too.” you confess between moans. You feel something start to moisten your cheek. You move your head to meet his gaze, but you can’t see anything from where you are. You feel his thrusts suddenly become harder and faster as his weight on you causes your legs to buckle and slide on the mattress. You let out a strangled cry when he hits that delicious spot.

His control extinguishes like a flame when you confess that. Holding back his sobs so he wouldn’t worry you. Listening to your sweet, enchanting moans. Calling his name, needing him, wanting him. And he’ll give it all to you, wanting to make up for lost time. Your movements synchronize in quick, desperate thrusts, your lower body lowering so far that he can’t penetrate comfortably, having to abandon the warmth of your hands to hold your hips and lift them high for better control. And the angle he has is so delicious that his claws almost scratch your soft skin as he squeezes hard. Penetrating frantically, chasing his own pleasure now. Growling at the feeling he’s close.

Your overwhelmed body shudders as you reach orgasm, a mess of moans and whimpers, breathing raggedly as he ravages your sensitive insides. Gathering your strength, you sit up a little, twisting your body back slightly to reach for him, reaching for his servo. Needing to hold it. Because even if you’re not yet used to his new self, he’s still your sweet, lovely Wasp. With a different body and a different name. His servo traps you, as he leans down and moves his servo closer to your chassis. “Waspinator has you.” the softness of his tone is lost as he grunts and pants eagerly, pumping shakily as his excess fills you to the brim, with nowhere left to bulge out until he slides down your thighs and stains the sheets. Moaning from the seemingly endless overfilling. Falling exhausted against the pillows.

“Little love?” he says, approaching you. Assuming you’re resting by not responding. Had he tired you out so soon? He lets go of your small hand and holds you in his servos, carefully shifting you both so you're lying on your sides. His member still pulsing inside you, refusing to leave your wet heat. Your small, sweaty form presses against his chassis for warmth, his spike popping out and resting between your thighs when you turn around to hug him. Almost in shock because it’s the first time you’ve voluntarily hugged him in a long time. And he shrinks back, holding you lovingly. Feeling at peace that you’re getting used to his new self.

Wasp.

Lying on the couch while you talk on the phone, you notice Wasp join you, beckoning him to curl up next to you. And when he comes closer, you can see that angry expression he always puts on when he hears you talking to someone, and that expression is even more pronounced when it’s Bumblebee. He always has that disgusted expression when you mention him, still unsure of why he hates the friendly yellow Autobot so much. Always reluctant to tell you even a fragment of his life before meeting you. His servos pull you towards him as he lies down, feeling him tense when he hears Bumblebee’s laughter through the phone.

Anger twists sickeningly inside him when he hears his voice, hearing you laugh with him. Wanting to end all of this once and for all, why wasn’t it enough to ruin his life? Does he also have to take away the only good thing life has given him? Always coming to see you, always wanting to talk to you. As if he’s interested in you. Disgusting.

Suddenly, he moves over you, reaching for your phone and snatching it out of your hands. "(Name) is busy now." he growls aggressively at the phone, then throws it away across the room. Before you can question it, the part of his helmet covering his face retracts, and he crashes his lips to yours in a desperate, needy kiss. You hear Bumblebee’s distant voice before it fades away. You melt into the passionate kiss.

Kissing you hungrily, he struggles with the layers covering you, feeling the need to claim you, to drown that anger in you. Thinking that maybe I could have left the phone nearby so he’d hear how he claims you, so he’d know that you already belong to someone, and that someone is only him. Only his. Feeling your hands trying to help him undress you, desperate, he tears at the fabric covering you. He frees his aching spike from where it was trapped, gripping your calves so your feet are straight against his body, rubbing against your damp heat to warm you both. Feeling that sense of belonging singing in his spark.

Your heart pounds as you watch him from below, as he grinds against you, biting your thumb as your wetness mixes with his. So desperate, grunting and moaning in something you don’t understand, perhaps in his own language. And he seems so charming when he tries to be rough, wanting to hug him and hold him close. You reach out to caress his face, and he leans in close, seeking your touch, and his expression softens, as if your touch has a special effect on him.

Unable to hold back any longer, he pushes into your wet heat, hearing your muffled cry as he does so. Drowning that anger and frustration in you. The only thing that calms him, that makes him feel good. He gets so close to you that he crushes you with your own legs, servos on either side of your head, bringing them up to your cheeks, while you caress him with such love, moving in to kiss him tenderly. You are a beautiful gift from Primus, a chance at a future after losing everything. He hears your beautiful moans against his lips as he picks up a faster, more aggressive pace. You hold him so tightly and cling so tightly to him, telling him how much you love him between ragged breaths. Feeling like I could cry now. Sometimes unable to believe you’re even real.

Moaning against your mouth, you feel a few last shaky thrusts before you feel his cum filling you to the brim. He moves slowly until he stops, his spike still throbbing inside you. “Wasp got really turned on, sorry.” his tone oozes guilt and shame as he burrows between your shoulder and neck. He hides in embarrassment. “Don’t worry, honey, it’s okay," you assure him, stroking his helmet. “You did very well.”

Guilt writhes in him for finishing so soon without letting you finish first, emotions getting the better of him this time. Feel your hands on him, pushing him back. He turns away from you, both moaning low voice as he leaves your wet heat, remaining on his knees. He can briefly watch his cum spill from your core before you move up to straddle his lap, sitting on his as you sink down onto his still-erect spike. “Now it’s my turn.” You wrap your arms around his neck as you grind into him with deep, rapid thrusts. Taking all of him with such desperation that it takes him by surprise, unsure of how to position himself, he places both servos on your waist, begging senselessly as he moans and pants anxiously. Feeling like he’s about to overload again.

You feel him fill you for the second time as you chase your own pleasure, so close you feel your almost numb legs tremble. Penetrating hard a few last times until you reach orgasm, milking his member until you slowly move your hips to a stop. Lying on top of him as he leans back on the couch and holds you. You love him so much.

Wasp Pre-Imprisonment.

“Shh, try not to make any noise. You don’t want them to find us, do you?” he purrs softly against your ear as his fingers pump against your sensitive entrance. Hiding in his closet, you try to stifle a moan as he sinks his fingers deeper, feeling his free servo caress your body at will. It’s hard to keep quiet, afraid that someone will find them.

You’re so soft and warm inside that he can’t wait to be inside you. He knows you’re alone in the entire room and that no one will be around for a while, but he enjoys this little game. He pulls his fingers out of you, hearing your small gasp as he does, bringing his fingers to his mouth, intoxicated by your delicious taste. “You’re so delicious, sweetspark.” he whispers, releasing his aching spike that’s already dripping with cum. “You should taste yourself.” he moves his servo until his fingers enter your mouth, hearing your muffled moan as he presses his fingers against your tongue.

And he doesn’t care much about being quiet, which makes you anxious. He’s always telling you to hide, that only he can see you, that his people could hurt you. There are so many things that everything around you scares you all the time. His fingers leave your mouth, brushing your entrance with his spike so gently that your legs can barely stay still, leaning down as you lean against the cold metal wall, feeling it align and stretch as his body presses against yours, holding you in an almost possessive way.

He moves slowly as he enjoys you. His little secret, his strange but charming pet. All his. He begins to moan against your shoulder as he penetrates deeper, feeling you wrap so tightly around him, like you were made for only him to take. So soft and so warm, a little thing to care and protect. “You feel wonderful, darlin. I make you feel good? You want me to go faster?” he hears your soft moans and gasps, calling his name, your small hands seeking his servos. Always seeking him, such a cute little thing.

And he starts going faster and harder. All you hear is the sound of your bodies colliding and his moans. He turns up the volume like he doesn’t care, and fuck it. You stop holding back and start turning up the volume, hearing his charming laugh behind you. “You want them to find us, what a dirty, naughty little thing.” he scolds you slyly. He grinds against you almost frantically. Your breathing becomes ragged as you chase his thrusts. You feel yourself getting so close. “Please, I’m so close, keep going like that, please.” you moan, and he generously keeps up with that pace, feeling you reach your orgasm, your wetness so great that it slides down your thighs, staining his.

He feels you milking his spike as he now seeks his own pleasure, lost in that haze of ecstasy as he fills you with hard thrusts, trying to prolong it while moaning and groaning at the sensitivity of his spike after he comes. Leaning almost all of his weight on you as he moves slowly to a stop. “Are you okay?” he asks you between gasps, you nod to him, noticing the small curve of your lips. “I love you.” you tell him sleepily. “I love you too.” Because even though it’s strange, he loves you. He found you, protected you, and cared for you. Making you his. And he can’t wait to be an elite guard so he can give you a better place to live, where you can be happy together.

I realized it’s been almost a week since I last posted something, (the passing of time is such a strange thing to me) anyway, here are 3 spicy scenarios about tfa Waspinator because my boy needs a little more attention, (I have a story planned for him but I have to see how I develop it because right now I only have a few ideas flying around in my head)

The other day while browsing my trusted store I found this and I just couldn’t resist and bought it (he’s so cute, I love him so much)

[namelesskn1ght]

Please never die î love your writing style so much

This is the first time someone has complimented my writing style, this is so sweet, thank you so much!! <3

[namelesskn1ght]

A temporary consolation pt3.

Skybound Optimus Prime x Reader Content: sharing a tender moment before sleeping.

· He didn’t think things through clearly when he asked you to spend the night with him. He was somehow terrified of having to go back to his cabin alone and recharge in the dark.

· He knows there is something wrong with him and that it would be best to keep your distance for your safety, but he doesn’t want to let you go. He can’t. He yearns most of the time to have you by his side, and that scares him so much, because at some point it could end in something fatal.

· Feel your soft hands cling to the antenna on his helmet. Feeling a slight pleasure from your touch on that sensitive area. Trying not to show how you make him feel because it would be embarrassing if you noticed.

When you enter the cabin, the first thing you notice is a metal bunk bed and a desk accompanied by a simple chair. It somehow makes you feel strangely sad, because there are no memories or anything decorating the room, it’s as if no one ever lived here.

His large servo holds you carefully, approaching his chassis as he approaches the bunk and slowly lies down. Letting you lean against him as his servo covers you in an attempt to keep you warm.

When he asked you to sleep with him you expected it to be his smaller size, maybe hugging each other, but this doesn’t feel wrong. You hear the constant hum of its spark, his frame radiating such comforting warmth that you begin to feel tired.

· With his thumb he gently caresses your head and back absentmindedly, relaxing with the small beats of your heart against his chassis. “Do you feel comfortable there?” he asks in a low voice, because he is aware that humans rest on soft, squishy things and he is not exactly that. Hear your sleepy voice saying: ‘Yes Oppy, don’t worry, you rest, you need it.’ Oppy?

You hear a small sound, but enough to make you open your eyes wide and get up from where you were lying. “Did you just laugh?” because in all this time since you met him you have never heard him laugh, and his laugh is so sweet that you want to hear it again.

· Your exaggeratedly high-pitched tone takes him so by surprise that he starts laughing out loud. Listen to you excited and super high-pitched ‘You did it again.’ which makes him shake, having to hold you up so you don’t fall while he laughs more. “For the love of Primus, how is it possible that you can put your voice like that, darling?”

· He feels you move until you rest both hands on his battle mask, meeting you in his field of vision; with a smile so charming that it makes his spark jump.

“Yes, I can still hear that adorable laugh, I can change the tone of voice to one that can make you keep laughing.” you want to continue seeing him happy, make him forget everything and have fun with you.

· You spread your happiness so easily, making him smile under his battle mask. Reflecting that smile in his eyes. “I didn’t expect that funny tone of yours, nor that curious nickname,” he says calmly as he absentmindedly strokes your head with his index finger, ruffling your hair and then gently running down your back. “I’ll have to think of a nickname for you, little spark.”

· He feels you approaching his battle mask until you snuggle up, extending your arm in a way that resembles a hug. He hears a sound he easily recognizes; you make it whenever you feel tired.

· With the corner of his lips still curved, he inexplicably relaxes but takes the opportunity to rest. He carefully holds you until he places you back on his chassis, gently resting his servo on you. His optics begin to close, almost forgetting everything that was tormenting him. Without needing to be on alert, there is only silence, just you and him. “I love you.” he confesses to you while you rest, wishing for dawn to come so he can tell you in the eyes.

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Sorry for disappearing, I haven’t felt very well emotionally these last few days. But finally here is the third part, I have some ideas in mind that I wish that to be able to share soon. One of them is an extremely long chapter about this Optimus story about the first encounters with the reader.

I also hope to finish some writings about Waspinator and Bulkhead from Animated soon. (There’s almost nothing about them so it’s time for that to change.)

[namelesskn1ght]

A temporary consolation pt2.

Skybound Optimus Prime x Reader Content: anguish, nightmares, mention of blood. 🔞

Lately I’ve been listening a lot to the soundtrack of the first 4 Silent Hill games, and perhaps that has influenced this writing a little. Besides, I’m sorry for all the angst there’s going to be here, unfortunately I love angst and drama haha’nt.

Resting in the limited comfort of your car’s back seats, heavy footsteps drag you from the depths of your dreams. You wake up startled by the sudden noise, with your heart hammering frantically against your chest, your blurred vision prevents you from clearly seeing the figure moving quickly towards the immense wooded area in front of you, but it is the blue and red pigments so familiar to you that they reassure you. With your hand on your chest, you wonder where he’s going on his own, feeling your heartbeat calm down.

With a slight heaviness in the body, you crawl between the seats until you reach the door handle and clumsily open it. Feeling the fresh air of the place freeze your bones. You unconsciously hug yourself, resulting in a futile attempt to evade the cold. You are guided by the trail of footprints, moving forward until you come across his figure in the distance. Shouting his name to get his attention, you don't receive any response that he has heard your call. You quicken the speed of your steps, noticing how your icy breath spreads briefly through the air.

Distraught, he wonders if his processor will torment him until he loses the little bit of sanity that still manages to keep him sane. Because guilt eats away at him for destroying what he tries to protect, delving into his deepest dreams so as not to let him rest. The frustration of his countless failures leads him to immerse himself in that anger that only accumulates inside him, succumbing and letting go. Destroying to relieve frustration, hurting those who do not allow him to destroy, hurting any sentient being without justifiable reason...

That memory remained welded into his processor so that the horrible act he committed mercilessly would remain in his memories for the rest of his days. That look of horror on your face when he reaches you with his servo, slowly crushing your fragile figure with the same servo with which he so lovingly caressed your face. That red liquid that flowed from you, staining his servos while listening to your inconsolable cries and wails. A suffocating silence that sentenced an end after a repugnant guttural sound came out of you, his servos trembling at a point and apart when calm clears its unstoppable frenzy.

He can’t keep living like this; it is an endless mental torture that is breaking him down by his actions. Even if they are dreams, there is a very real fear that what his sick processor creates through guilt may end up happening. That he loses control completely and gives in to those violent impulses that do not belong to him.

Inevitably, he remembers that version of himself he no longer wishes to be.

Perhaps, it’s that part of his body that doesn’t belong to him that’s doing this to him, corrupting his mind until he becomes a violent beast without control.

You see him stop dead in his tracks, relieved that he finally listened to you because your voice couldn’t give any more. As you get closer, you notice his posture slump as he holds his arm; that excitement in you fading as you hear him growl loudly.

A stabbing pain courses through him as he tries with all his might to tear Megatron’s arm off. Frustrated because that part that doesn’t belong to him clings to him as if it was always meant to be there, when all he wants is to end this nightmare once and for all. He freezes when he feels small hands on his leg, tilting his head just enough to find you clinging to him, completely horrified. Telling him something he can’t quite hear.

Had you been following him all this time?

Why couldn’t he hear you?

With nerves on edge, you manage to get his attention before he can continue trying to rip his arm off. You hear his little plea saying ‘Please leave. I don't want you to see this.’ but you ignore it, responding too harshly without meaning to. “I’m not going to leave you here, and much less will I let you hurt yourself,” his gaze crushes your heart, always so tired and sad. “For whatever you want, let go of your arm, please.”

He looks away from you. Reflecting on this, unsure of his decision, he loosens his grip on Megatron’s arm.

With you here, he can’t do it. Your eyes reflect an anguish and despair that touches his spark, unable to disobey your little request. Because you never ask for anything that is for your benefit, you only ask him to take care of himself when he has to leave. You’re always so sweet and kind to him, always genuinely concerned for his well-being. Such an adorable little thing.

He looks at you, arms extended toward his servo, as if you wanted to touch it. He carefully bends down towards you, extending his servo to you. He feels your soft hands hugging and caressing his servo. Your touch on him has a calming effect that considerably soothes his chaotic emotions. He almost manages to forget the anguish he was feeling just moments ago.

He curls his fingers, wanting to hold you. Hug you and feel the small beats of your heart against his chassis. To enjoy your comforting closeness, to lose himself in your soft, gentle touch.

Maybe, if you give him permission, drown in your lips like that special day.

Lifting you slightly from the surface, his vision bleeds. Your mangled form lies on his servo, wires snaking unpleasantly through your insides. That red liquid everywhere.

Frightened, he lets you fall from his grasp. He finds you alive on the floor, confused and shaken. He sits up and takes several steps back, slumping in his posture, staring at his trembling servos in horror.

You see him covering his head with both servos, muttering non-stop and almost sobbing. He falls to his knees, his helmet smashing against the ground. You quickly approach him without thinking, placing both hands on his large servo. Before you can say anything, his servo pushes you away, knocking you off your feet. You notice a lavender flash across his optics for a moment. What was that?

“Get out of here, run away,” he pleads, almost in a growl. He tries to sit up, to move away from you. He feels as if his processor is being squeezed, feeling those violent impulses manifesting to take control of his body. And by Primus, he won’t allow that, not this time, not with you so close. “I’m completely serious. Your life is in danger if you stay here with me.”

“Optimus, I can’t—” You freeze when he abruptly turns around, his lavender gaze capturing yours, going fast to where you are. You curl up into a ball, closing your eyes tightly. Because you know you’d have no chance of escaping him; it would be a wasted breath.

Waiting for the worst to pass, you only hear a loud noise above you, to your dismay. You feel a warm breath against your neck, giving you chills. You cautiously open your eyes, his much larger body caged in. But he’s closer in size to yours. You don’t know if his kind breathe, but you feel labored breathing against your neck. You turn just enough to find the glow of his optics, now a medical green pigment. With a slight tremble, you carefully move your arms until your hands rest on his helm.

You reassure yourself with the fact that he’s not going to hurt you, that he’s trying. But you’re not sure how long he can stay like this until he returns to normal. You’re scared that he could explode at any moment and you won’t know what to do.

Gentle hands gently caress his helmet. He feels a slight tremor in them, and his spirits plummet even further. Because you’re scared, and it hurts him that you are, even though it’s completely justifiable. You should be safe with him. He should be the shield and sword that protects you until the end, not a double-edged sword that endangers your life. He hates this, hates feeling this rage that’s consuming him.

He just wants to be the same as before all this.

These violent impulses gradually subside. He focuses on your scent and the feel of your body against his frame, impregnating you with his own scent the closer he presses to you. Part of him wants to pull away because of how inappropriate this is, but he can’t. He still feels nervous and can’t move; he’s tense against you.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, hating the small tremor in your voice. He doesn’t respond, he moves over you, turning his head so you can meet his blue glow and his beautiful, uncovered face. You slide your hands over his face. He leans into your touch, but seems to instantly regret it. He towers over you, moving away from your touch until he’s on his knees. A gaze so fragile it could shatter at any moment.

“Let’s go back to the ark.” he evades your question, fleeing from your gentle touch because he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t know how to respond because he doesn’t understand everything he’s feeling right now, but what he feels most is disappointment. Disappointed in himself. He reaches out with his servo to help you up, but it instantly retracts, but you catch it and hold it. Still trusting him.

He gently pulls you upright, placing your free hand on his servo. Moving him so he touches your cheek, noticing how he tenses when it touches your skin. You stroke the back of his servo with your thumb, with your free hand you slide it down below what you think is his wrist. As much as you were afraid before, he’s still him, and even if there’s something that drives him violent that neither you nor anyone else knows why, there’s always regret after his destructive acts. He’s still the same kind and gentle robot you met the first time. “Let’s get back together.”

You smile slightly, turning to move forward with him by the hand, guiding him while his processor, a confusing mess, clumsily follows you. How is it possible that, despite the fact that he almost hurt you, you still treat him the same way? Why are you always so kind and patient with him? Why?

The ride back is silent; you don’t say a word, and neither does he. He can’t. You hold his grip until the very end, looking at him with those kind eyes of yours when you turn around. Feeling his spark contract when you release his grip, wishing him a good night before walking away. He still doesn’t want to let you go.

You feel a small tug on your arm before you can reach the car door handle. Glancing back, you’re met with Optimus’s uncertain expression. Before he’ll let you speak, he first interrupts you with a question:

“Do you want to spend the night with me?”

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I’ve been rewriting this so much because I didn’t like the first drafts, but I finally finished it (yippe).

[namelesskn1ght]

A temporary consolation.

Skybound Optimus Prime x Reader Content: anguish, consolation, first kiss.

It seems that no matter how hard he tries, he’s destined to fail. No matter how hard he tries to do good and help others, it all ends in disaster. Primus, he’s trying, he swears on the Allspark that he’s trying. But he can’t give any more.

He’s too tired.

Isolated in nature, he tries to calm down. The beauty of this world is a small consolation on this chaotic path he’s taking. The birdsong, the flowers, the landscapes that seem almost unreal... There are so many things he’d like to take the time to admire. If only things were different.

His servos tremble, and he lowers his gaze, lost in them. Feeling revulsion and dread at the sight of his right arm, Megatron’s arm. Deep down, he wants to tear off that part that doesn’t belong to him. That parasite. Because somehow his mind becomes corrupted, and he gives in to the anger that pierces him like an arrow. Hating himself when calm invades him, because he’s not like that anymore. He doesn’t want to be like that anymore.

He hides his face with his servo, closing his optics. Darkness envelops him, wishing absolute nothingness would swallow him up and let him rest. Anxiety prevents him from doing so. The thought that the worst could be happening out there while he’s away. His companions. No. His family could be in danger, and he’s here doing nothing.

Primus please give him some peace.

Moving forward cautiously, you follow the trail of the enormous footprints on the path. A clue to where he might be, hoping to find him soon.

Watching him walk silently away from everyone, you could sense there was something about him, or at least you thought so. Something in his posture and expression told you something. An eternal storm of pain suffocating his entire being. You feel it, you worry because you understand that feeling all too well. Even if you can’t save him from the storm, you want to be with him on the journey. To let him know that he doesn’t have to suffer alone and in silence.

A little emotion courses through you as you recognize the small red shape hidden among the trees and rocks in the distance. You move forward more quickly, his shape getting large and large the closer you get. Noticing his trembling body, a servo covering his face. Startling you when he abruptly turns his head toward you with a horrified and scared expression. Making you wonder if he always gets like this when someone gets close to him when he’s distracted. As if he always expects the worst.

Relieved to find you and not some Decepticon, he tries to compose himself and stay calm. But his servos are still trembling slightly. “What brings you here, little one?” he asks softly. Watching you move closer to him with a calmer expression, looking up at him with those little eyes of yours. Feeling a small sense of tenderness as he watches you try to climb the rocks, leaning down and extending a servo to help you up. Watching you cling to him with those soft little hands of yours.

You don’t respond immediately, you cling fearfully to him even though you know he won’t let you fall. You sit with your back to him on one of the rocks when he carefully releases you. “It never hurts to have some company, don’t you think?” you look at the small cluster of flowers on the ground, noticing a red bloom that stands out among the others. Organizing your words, you continue. “Sometimes it’s good to have company during difficult times. To feel heard.” you say subtly, feeling a slight pressure in your chest from your nerves.

Do you care about him? “That’s very kind of you, little one.” his spark vibrates slightly as a feeling of warmth gently caresses him.

He looks at you, at your almost cybertronian figure and face. It unsettles him in some way he doesn’t understand, but he dispels it with the charming little things that make you unique and different from him.

Pretty, one might dare to say. The mere thought of it feels almost taboo.

Such a small and fragile being, filled with a kindness he’s rarely seen in recent times. You’re young, with a whole life ahead of you.

His processor fills him with guilt, sinking that pleasant, warm feeling so deep into his core, it feels as if it had never existed. Because somehow he feels like he doesn’t deserve your pity, with everything his people is doing to your planet, to your people. What they did to you.

You feel him tremble, the rocks vibrating slightly, the tiny stones sliding until they reach the flowers and the grass. You turn to find that sad expression of his that he only reflects lately. You stand up carefully, approaching him somewhat awkwardly. “I know there are many things tormenting you,” you touch his servo resting on his thigh, wanting to get his attention. “I don’t even know if I can help you, as much as I would like to,” he extends his servo; there’s an insecurity there in the way he extended it out, but you climb onto it. Trusting him. Meeting those bright blue optics as he lifts you up. “But you shouldn’t face everything alone. In difficult times, it’s better to have someone accompany you along the way, and I want to accompany you, Optimus.”

“But, why?” he asks, his voice breaking. Confused, perhaps shocked. “My people has brought nothing but destruction and chaos to your world, including me. Why do you pity me so much?” His processor and spark are a cluster of emotions that suffocate him. Believing he deserves nothing when a part of him so desires it.

“Because I think you’re good, and you don’t deserve to feel all the negativity that’s suffocating you,” you reach out your small hands; he pulls you closer, feeling weak for needing your touch. “You’re not a monster. I know you’re doing what you can to bring peace; we all know you’re trying.” you finish, hugging his battle mask.

Feeling like you’re falling, you scream in shock. Nausea intensifies until you can almost feel that familiar sour taste rising in your throat. Dizzy, you feel large arms holding you. They embrace you gently. You realize that he has somehow shrunk, and is now closer to your size. You notice how he’s almost on his knees due to his shaky, wobbly posture. You hear murmurs you can’t understand. He’s hiding between your neck and shoulder. You hear sounds you recognize almost instantly.

Sobs.

Completely shaken, he clings to you like a lifeline. Your words break through his walls until they crumble; revealing that most emotional and fragile part of him he hadn’t shown to anyone in a long time. “Thank you... Thank you, really.” His voice finally breaks, unable to think clearly about what he’s saying. Tears fall and soak your coat. Not remembering when was the last time he allowed himself to feel like this.

Unable to bear his weight any longer, you collapse to your knees with him. He attracted you more to himself. Him soaking you with the warmth of his frame. You reach out to hold him better, gently stroking his helmet. Whispering words you think might make him feel better, telling him to let it all out. That it’s okay to express what he feels and what he needs.

He feels almost incredulous that you’d accept this most sensitive and fragile part of him. Because during the war, he couldn’t even think of it. Showing it is a sign of weakness, an easy target. But you, instead, ask him to do it, to express how he feels. “Stay with me, hold me tight, please.” he pleads. Because if you allow him to be fragile and ask for what he needs, he won’t waste it.

You pull away slightly. He’s a little reluctant to do so, but he lets go, his grip on your arms still firmly in place. Your hands reach for his battle mask, caressing it, brushing away the tears that are trickling down his optics. Without really thinking, he retracts his battle mask, revealing his entire face. He sees your expression, briefly surprised, but then softens immediately. He feels your tiny fingers run over his face, caressing every scar there. Not showing any expression of disgust at them.

“Are you feeling a little calmer now?” you ask, taking in his face in its entirety, strangely human yet somehow charming. You see him nod briefly, and you lean a little closer to his face, just a little. You notice him do the same, he pulls you closer again, his servo reaching your cheek, caressing it gently; sliding down to reach your lips, moving down to your bottom lip. Unconsciously, you kiss his thumb, hearing his small gasp of surprise.

That kiss on his thumb felt so intimate, feeling his spark vibrate anxiously behind his chassis. Thinking about wanting more of that closeness, wanting you to kiss his lips instead of his thumb.

Thinking about how taboo it is to desire someone so different so much

Although that doesn’t matter to him now.

Even if he doesn’t understand what you make him feel, he wants you. He wants you to hug him more, to keep encouraging him to keep going. Even though he doesn’t know if what you’re making him feel is love, what you’re making him feel is almost comparable.

Because the intense desire to have you in his life forever, to have you just for him, must mean something more than friendship.

You notice his gaze fixed on your lips, feeling butterflies flutter anxiously in your stomach. You look at his lips and then at his optics, losing yourself in his blue light. Wanting to drown that need for more closeness, but your body and your heart need more. Slowly moving closer to him, he mimicking your action. You’re so close to his lips that you nervously lower your head slightly, avoiding touching them at the last moment. His servo moves down to your chin and raises it to its original position. Closing your eyes just as his lips are about to touch yours.

He tastes you, and it’s softer and more pleasant than I could have imagined. His glossa enters your lips, and you give him permission to explore, opening your mouth slightly wider. His servo moves to cradle the back of your head, with the parasite servo reaching the lower part of your back to pull you closer to him. Needing to feel you against his frame.

He pulls away momentarily to see your reaction, noticing your cheeks tinged with a tender shade of pink.

“Can we do it again?”

He laughs softly at your question, bringing his lips closer to yours. A ray of light emerging from the clouds, pointing to a new path to follow, leaving everything behind to contemplate an open and beautiful sky. Realizing that you were that hopeful ray of light he was searching for, a source of tranquility and peace. Feeling his spark singing happily, eager for more of your touch.

Enjoying moving forward on this new path in which he is accompanied.

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I would love to be able to hug this Optimus and tell him that everything will be okay, he is suffering a lot.