namelesskn1ght

[namelesskn1ght]

A temporary consolation pt2.

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

A/N: 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:

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

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

Previous

[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.

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

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

Next

[namelesskn1ght]

The warmth of your skin.

TFO B-127 x Reader Content: established relationship, minor anguish, valveplug. 🔞

A/N: Well, this is the first time I’ve published a fic, and I’m a little nervous about it. English isn’t my native language. I’ve done my best to translate this; I hope everything is spelled correctly, even though I don’t think so because the spell checker on my phone hates me for some reason.

Under the resplendent and sublime light of the moon, he tries to reach you with you are getting lost into the distance, laughing happily, while the sea breeze moistens his worn golden armor for staying so close to the shore. Frustration overwhelms him at not being able to keep up with you; being more similar to your size, you turn out to be much more agile and faster than him.

Despite the difficulties, him still trying to catch up with you.

Focuses on your voice to relieve frustration. Listening to you relieves any restlessness, but it also makes his spark feel confusing things. Now just spreading your overflowing happiness to him. Laughing genuinely with you.

From one moment to the next your rhythm falters and it is an opportunity. Stretching the servo to reach your hand, you turn suddenly. Dazzled by the view he has of you. Looking almost unreal how ethereal you look under the focus of the moon.

He takes you in his servos, feeling a little guilty as he triumphantly tells you he has you; when you just slowed down because his speed was almost comparable to that of an overweight puppy.

He leans his body forward, dragging you with him. He murmurs sweet words to you as his servos descend almost pleasurably from your abdomen to your thighs, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder. You lose yourself in his touch, gasping in surprise as he picks you up. You come across those beautiful blue optics. Standing out from everything else in the darkness.

He gently brings the front of his helmet up to your forehead, depositing a kiss there when he raises his head. Feeling your hands slide gently down his chassis to his neck. A pure feeling of happiness runs through him. Laughing softly, imagine a melody. He hums to himself, moving smoothly and almost gracefully, imagining that he is dancing a waltz with you.

Watching your face change from confusion to a tender emotion when you understand what he does. Listening to your nervous laughter. Taking a turn, leans his body, shortening all distance with you, gently releasing the grip on your thighs so that your feet touch the wet sand and the water. Bringing his servo closer to your waist. His lips too close to yours, he hears you murmur ‘how sweet’ but is suffocated by the feeling of closeness. Not yet used to touching you this way. Their internal systems becoming louder and their fans turning on.

His posture falters, bending down to drag you with him into the water. Almost caging you with his body, with part of his weight on you. Panicking as you hit his frame and start coughing underwater, quickly getting up, he grabs both of your arms and roughly lifts you out of the water. He carries you in his servos, noticing how you cough water on him. Coming further along the shore to sit on the sand, lying on his lap, approaching his chassis while you rest your head on its neck.

Snuggling up against him in search of heat, you hear his apologies. You put a hand over his mouth. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” you try to assure him in a tired tone, but he still keeps talking to you with your hand on him. You lower your hand to his shoulder, letting him speak. His frame radiates such comforting warmth that your eyelids feel heavy. The sound of the sea and nature are a great comfort after not having seen the outside in a long time. You try to enjoy it, enjoy it with him.

“It feels good to be in this place.” you say with that sleepy tone so particular to you when you are about to fall asleep. “I would love to be able to stay here forever.”

He laughs softly. “I’m glad you like this place.” one day while patrolling he found that beach isolated and lonely. He thought it would be a good place to bring you for a change of scenery. So you can be calm for a while.

“I hope we can come back soon, it’s so peaceful and pleasant.”

There’s something about the way you say it that hurts him. He knows you're unhappy even if you don’t tell him, but he feels it. Unhappy to spend most of your days on the ark. Isolated in his room all the time. He knows you miss the outside, but since you got too involved in his life, you are inevitably in the sights of the Decepticons.

He doesn’t want the Decepticons to find you again. To hurt you again.

But he won’t make the same mistake again, ever. Not while the spark still burns within him.

What is that expression? you sit up a little, touching the side of his face. He seems absent. “Honey, are you okay?” you ask subtly, gently moving his head so he looks at you. “Bee?”

He wonders if you would be happier if you had never met him. Inevitably remembering those times where he tormented himself for the war on Cybertron, blaming himself for it.

If only I had never created Steve, maybe things would be different. Perhaps he would never have come to Earth and brought his war to your beautiful planet.

Maybe, you would be with another human instead of him.

That last thought twists disgustingly in his processor, bothering him at the idea of ​​someone else having you.

You belong to him as much as he belongs to you. You are his, to cherish and protect.

He will make you happy until the end of his days.

His expression turns into something you’re not sure you can read, softness and anger might be a small possibility. Opening your mouth slightly he muffles your question when his lips crash into yours, his glossa entering your mouth. With one servo firmly on your nape and the other wandering under your wet shirt. Surprised by that passionate kiss and the way he touched you, but not complaining at all.

“I’ll try to bring you here as often as you want,” he tries to say, kissing you eagerly. “Anywhere you want.”

Soft hands on his face. He lays you down slowly on the sand while still kissing you, cradling his hips against yours. Your legs hugging his waist. Feeling his spike twist behind his frame. Needing this, needing you to drown out those bad thoughts that torment him.

He’s trying, he’s doing the best he can, please don’t get tired of him.

“Bee, honey, calm down, I’m not going anywhere.” You try to say in a mocking tone. Because your friendly, sweet robot acting so anxious and hungry is a very charming oddity.

He shortens the kiss, placing soft, eager kisses until he reaches your ear. With its heavy relief giving you chills. “Can I… Can I?” and your sweet robot is still there. You stifle a laugh, because no matter how needy he is, he’s always going to ask you before he goes too far. Always worrying about you. You try to take off your pants, being somewhat complicated with him on top of you, with him marking your sensitive neck.

Getting it to slide down along with your underwear, he tears it off with a desperation that makes you laugh. Drowning your laughter when he lines up and sheathes you tightly. 

You’re so tight when you arch against him. Servos hold your hips tightly as he tries to maintain control by being inside you, not to be too rough with you. Slow but hard thrusts. The obscene sound of your moans and your wet skin crashing his frame further fueling that scorching heat in him. Finally sinking those thoughts deep into his processor as he melts in the warmth of your skin and your moist heat.

The pain of the stretching is soothed by the pleasure of his hard thrusts. Listening to him mutter on and on, many things drowned out by his own moans and grunts, how little you hear how much he loves you, that you are his forever. Without paying much attention to what he says because of the fog of pleasure that clouds your judgment. Holding onto him as he begins to thrust frantically, feeling him take you to the limit without mercy.

He feels you tremble against him, feeling you milk his spike. His release coming when you moan his name so many times it drives him over the edge. Filling you to the brim as he pumps shakily.

He gently pulls away from you, moaning softly as he pulls out of your warmth, watching his excess escape from you. Beautiful.

Exhausted, you notice how he turns you around, feeling its length caress you until it aligns again. Opening your eyes heavily you try to look back, watching him cage you with his much bigger body, holding both of your hands as he begins to thrust. “We still have time before we come back, my love.”