#Cybertronian reader

[therobotsarestuckinmyhead]

Could you create a request featuring Rung from Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye, alongside a Cybertronian significant other—male, romantic—who is an elegant and distinguished figure on Cybertron, standing taller than him? Honestly, I’m not sure if you’re familiar with Rung or if you’ve read Transformers: MTMTE

♡ [IDW] "ELEGANCE" — Rung HCs

don't worry about that, i've read MTMTE upto and including Chaos Theory. the whole thing was pretty much spoiled to me though so :”) Rung is like the only normal-ish person on that ship. kinda short, forgive me!

scenario: rung with their more popular, distinguished s/o and their time on The Lost Light

setting: this is upto just post-Chaos Theory cause I've only gotten to that part </3

— You two have been together for a long, long time now. Rung has many gaps in his memory but he could never forget the first time the two of you met, even if the details are vague.

— He was slightly intimidated; tall, elegant upright posture with a graceful gait that screamed upperclass and that he was poor right to his face. Rung remembers he was there for.. Something he can't really remember.. something with the Senate. You worked in the Senate building and that memory was rather fresh. If he remembers correctly, he accidentally walked into your workstation and the rest was history.

— Somehow, Rung caught your attention. You're not sure how and frankly, he's not sure how given how many times he's been told that he is ‘forgettable’. It was forbidden in a way given you were of a much higher stature but that didn't stop you from pursuing him and he couldn't resist your charm either. You've been together for who knows how long now. The two of you are like an old married couple in a genuinely loving relationship.

— So when the war ends, the two of you are obviously very excited. There's so many things you've wanted to do with him. Exploring space was one of them so the two of you were happily on your way to the Lost Light. A decision you would regret shortly after because the trip was nothing more than stressful.

— You saw him interact with Red Alert. You often carry things for him, even if he'd rather carry things himself but you would insist. That day, you were carrying his collection of Ark models in a box. And then Cyclonus ruined it all and your Conjux lost his whole servo, you immediately went off to get him medical attention. Rung got his arm back in the medbay and you're relieved for once. Sighing happily and until Whirl bursted into the room and attempted to choke the love of your life. You nearly threw yourself onto that psycho.

— You love him so much but unfortunately, Rung has the penchant charm for attracting not just you but whatever misfortune that lurks in the area. So you're somewhat protective over him. And Rung isn't exactly very combat efficient unlike yourself who can gracefully take down an enemy.

— Because of this, whenever ‘incidents’ happen with Rung, you're going to be giving the most nasty glare imaginable to whoever it is that hurts your Conjux. It's like a test of his durability and you honestly want it to end, there's a running joke between you two that Primus must be punishing him because of something he did in a past life. You were practically staring down Cyclonus for cycles after the wonderful beginning to life on the Lost Light.

— Then the Sparkeater incident. That one had you fuming. You wanted to punch Rodimus in the face for using Rung as bait but you managed to restrain yourself with Rung constantly reassuring that he was alright, even though he was clearly shaken up by the whole thing. You just held him tightly in your servos, helm on his shoulder as he soothed you. You also thanked Skids that day.

— If you have any sort of anxiety issues or stress, Rung is the mech to go to. While he claims that he's not ‘romance material’, he somehow knows what exactly to do and what exactly to say when you're in distress, unprompted.

— Then the Fort Max incident. At the time, you thought that had to be the worst one yet. Almost as bad as when the Fateful Archetype crashed. You were in an entirely different star system and you couldn't even come to his aid. But when Swerve accidentally shot his helm off, you froze.

— Pacing around in the medbay, you still look as elegant as ever but you're deep in worry as you think of Rung. You're fighting back the urge to bombard Ratchet with questions on whether or not Rung will make it. Or even if he can. You looked devastated at his memorial service however, you knew he wasn't dead— he's survived worse and there's no way Rung would go out like that.

— Ratchet and First Aid managed to build him a new helm, you've never felt so indebted to two mechs before in your entire life. But to your dismay, you find out that Rung's brain module is still foggy. He can't really move or function properly. So you partake in Rewind's story-time circle to hopefully get your partner back to how he usually is. It's kind of funny because you're sitting there, looking all regal which is a stark contrast to every other bot.

— Speaking of which, they're not sure how Rung bagged a bot like you. At all. Swerve thinks it's a mystery. Also Swerve apologizes to you constantly about what happened knowing you are his conjux. You accept it because he's the reason Rung was able to move. Swerve yapping for hours straight made Rung raise his servo up to shush him.

— You don't want to blame Fort Max or Swerve… But you've always wanted Rung to maybe consider a different career path on numerous occasions. The mechs he works with are literally insane or half way there. He wasn't even supposed to work as a psychiatrist anymore. You don't interfere most of the time knowing that this is what he's passionate about.

— But when Megatron turns to the Autobots and Rung is assigned to carry out the assessment of the ex-evil ex-Warlord who's terminated more bots than you could ever imagine, you're practically looking at him with that look; silently begging for him not to take up the job. There's a serious talk and Rung promises nothing will go wrong… this time at least. You trust that promise with a grain of salt.

— You buy him materials so that he can build his model ships and you also help out a lot with his collection. It was his hobby but now he's involved you in it, you enjoy this. The two of you sometimes paint the ships you've built together, it's one of Rung's favourite things to do. He looks forward to it a lot.

— You mainly spoil him by giving him expensive gifts and Rung has mixed feelings about it. He isn't sure on what to feel. On one hand, you're not only just spoiling him but you're showing your affection to him this way but on the other, it's very, very expensive stuff you're getting for him. He doesn't want you to spend too much on him! But you really don't seem to care, dismissing his worries as "nonsense" and how you enjoy seeing his smile. That made his spark skip a beat.

— Another one of his favorite things to do with you is explain the realm of psychology and psychiatry so if you're interested in psychology or psychiatry, Rung tries to explain his field of work to you and will do so happily. If you're paying attention and you ask him questions regarding the subject, the happier he is.

— He isn't really into PDA. Not that he hates being affectionate, it's just that he prefers gentle affection, preferably behind closed doors. Rung will have a fond smile as the two of you are laying on your shared berth in your shared hubsuite facing each other. Hold him close and he'd give in with all his spark, his own servos would wrap around your frame. He likes that you're taller than him cause he can lean on you comfortably whenever the two of you sit somewhere. Also, he likes being in your servos when the two of you get some alone time.

— You're the only bot who knows what he looks like without the goggles.

— Considering you're distinguished and you have a lot of influence, you use it to make sure Rung is never belittled. You're going to make sure everyone remembers his name no matter what. You stand up for him. Rung appreciates it a lot.

— Also, you catch the attention of bots when compared to Rung. Now, he isn't jealous. Not in the slightest. But he's going to stare down anyone that's trying to make a move on you. Rung feels a rush of joy and pride when you mention that you're taken, even more so when you specify Rung's designation. He knows he doesn't really need to interfere because you're committed to him just as much as he is committed to you.

— But he'd still like your words of affirmation. Not because he's insecure or any other underlying issue, no. Rung simply likes hearing you say such things to him. He's very comfortable with himself.

— Overall, despite all the terrible things that happen to him and you nearly fainting with a spark attack whenever it happens, the two of you work well for each other. Rung is a real romantic even if he thinks otherwise.

— He does get stressed with his patients sometimes but he sees you and his mood is better already.

this was the last request :3 time to take more soon...

[x4az]

Obsessed! Optimus prime having that mentality of "I can fix them." if you're on the opposite side, he genuinely believes you're NOT beyond saving, even when it's very clear you are. 🙏😭

Obsessed! Optimus Prime: “I CAN FIX THEM!!!”

Team Prime: “NO THE FRAG YOU DON'T!!!”

Knock Out: "Ooh, this is getting spicy."

Starscream: 😈

Megatron: "What in the name of the AllSpark is this fragging nonsense?" 🤨

Your honest reaction:

— post inspired by @/muletia and a sprinkle of @/yanderes-galore idea.

[woradat]

just wonder.. will you write for rodimus? 🥺 I mean, that jump-to-your-soul pic of him have to mean something right??

also do you take any req?

Done with your ex

SUMMARY – just an ego through the roof captain and his ex on the same ship, long trip together

PAIRING ��� rodimus x reader

NOTE – you take a hint huh. What are you, a government spy? I'm already working on him for a while now. And yes, I do a requests. You can see the rules/details in the pinned post. I just added+edit about few day ago

The loading ramp of the Lost Light hissed open like the universe itself was trying to be dramatic

Rodimus barely glanced up. He was in the middle of arguing with Swerve about whether installing retractable flame decals on the hull would count as 'atmospheric augmentation" or just "unnecessary and definitely going to kill us"

Then he saw movement out of the corner of his optic—and everything in his CPU short-circuited

There you were

Striding up the ramp like you owned it. Like you hadn’t ghosted out of his life with nothing but a pointed sentence and that half-smile that always meant checkmate. Like you hadn’t once told him—flatly, and with clinical precision—that loving him felt like "trying to put a fire out with gasoline"

And dammit if you didn’t look exactly the same. Polished. Poised. Primed for war and polite company. Elegant as ever. Calm as a sunset before a Category Five energon storm

You weren’t flash, never were—but you had that aura. That smooth, coiled presence like a vibroblade sheathed in silk. Oh the look—that faint, unreadable smile like you knew something he didn’t and were gracious enough to let him flounder in ignorance. That same neutral expression you used when pretending not to judge the tactical decisions of people clearly beneath your IQ range. That same stride that said “I’ve already calculated the probability of this going sideways and I brought snacks"

Rodimus froze, his spark dropped so hard it might’ve left a dent in his internals ‘No. Nope. Absolutely not!’

It couldn’t be you

Except, of course, it was. Because the universe loved poetic suffering and apparently it was his turn to monologue through one. He stared. You stared back. Unbothered. Professional. Radiating the exact same emotional energy as someone walking past their ex at a high-society gala—with better posture and zero regrets

Rodimus blinked so hard his optic lens recalibrates “What— what are you doing here?”

You didn’t even flinch. Just turned to him with a look that was one part serene and two parts smug, tilted your helm slightly. That little angle that always meant “I heard that. I’m just choosing violence later” Your voice, when it came, was like silk over sharpened steel

“Captain. How lovely to see you again”

“You’ve got to be—this is—no. Nope. Absolutely not”

Ultra Magnus appeared like a summoned ghost behind you, arms crossed, expression stiffer than a rusted gear “As I explained in my three prior reports, they’ve been appointed to the crew as strategic analyst”

Rodimus blinked "Three reports?"

“High-level pattern recognition. Crisis forecasting, multi-factional battle simulations, inter-faction negotiation” Magnus went on, tone flatter than the C.I.C. floor “They’ve been correct approximately 91.3% of the time. Statistically, that qualifies them as one of the best. They will be a valuable addition”

You gave a modest nod. Like someone who totally didn’t memorize those numbers already “Besides” you added smoothly

“I’m here for work. Nothing more. You can unclench now, Captain”

Rodimus looked like someone had just served him a steaming mug of his own poor life choices “Right. Work. Of course. Just work. Nothing else weird about this at all. Nope. Totally chill"

You stepped closer. Not enough to touch, but enough that your electromagnetic field skimmed his. Cool, clean, unreadable. Like an encrypted data packet wrapped in charm and sarcasm

“You always did have trouble being chill” you murmured “Still trying to solve everything by flying straight into it?”

“But don’t worry, captain. I’m not here to relive the past”

Rodimus sputtered. Behind him, Swerve audibly choked on a laugh “Oh, Primus, it is the ex. The one who called him ‘reckless with delusions of grandeur' I thought that was a metaphor”

You didn’t dignify that with a response. Just tilted your helm, optics flicked to him—neutral. But your smirk said “I win”

And with that, you turned and start walking down the hall—measured, composed, calculating—like a battlefield was unfolding beneath your pedes and you’d already chosen where all the pieces would fall – Rodimus stared after you like he’d just watched his worst mistake reappear in haute couture and get a standing ovation, as if to twist the energon dagger in his spark just a little further, you said—without turning back

“And for the record… I liked you better before you started trying to be respectable

Rodimus stood frozen, expression somewhere between awe, horror, and very mild arousal

“This is fine” he said out loud “This is great.. This is the best worst day I’ve ever had”

“Wanna talk about it?” Swerve offered

“Wanna be spaced through an airlock?”

“You’ve been out here for twenty minutes” Drift said, suddenly beside him. Rodimus jumped like he’d been caught digging through a black ops file “I’m not spying..!” “Sure” Drift glanced pointedly at the window “Just… monitoring morale with your face pressed against the glass?” Rodimus shoved a blank datapad into his hands "I’m checking their reassignment logs! That’s normal. Curiosity is normal” "You could just ask” “I can’t just ask! What if they think I still care?” “Rodimus, you’re literally stalking them through a wall" Rodimus made a noise somewhere between static and a dying turbo-ratchet “Okay, fine. Then you ask”

“Me?” “Yeah. You’ve got that wise monk aura. People think your invasive questions are… philosophical" Drift gave him a look so dry it might’ve been illegal in five star systems “If they throw something at me” he said, turning to leave “I’m blaming you”

Rodimus was not asking

He was simply conducting a targeted data acquisition exercise. Command-level intel. Tactical morale assessment. Strategic background audit on one of his newest officers. Perfectly normal captain things. Not weird. Not personal. Absolutely not fueled by the gnawing ache of unresolved emotional abandonment

“So” he began, too casually, sidling up to the corner of Swerve’s bar where Drift was trying to enjoy a moment of monk-like silence and absolutely not entertain any of Rodimus’s mid-spark crises “hypothetically—if someone used to date someone, and that someone got assigned to their ship without, say, any warning whatsoever, that would be… strange, right?”

“Strange. Uncomfortable. Emotionally volatile” Drift didn’t even look up from his cup “So yes. Very you”

Rodimus scoffed. Loudly. Overcompensating “This isn’t about me”

“Of course not” Drift said blandly “We’re speaking in totally neutral hypotheticals about your insanely sharp, tactically brilliant, emotionally impenetrable ex who now occupies a front-row seat in every strategy meeting like an elegantly silent death sentence”

Rodimus’s scowl could have curdled energon “They’re not that elegant”

“They once ended a meeting by folding a datachip in half. With one hand. While smiling”

Rodimus muttered something under his breath about “intimidation tactics” and “showoffs”. Drift, clearly bored of the deflection game, pulled up a datapad with a flick of the wrist—graceful, like a librarian about to ruin your life “Alright. Let’s see what your not at all relevant ex has been up to post-breakup…”

Rodimus leaned in. But not like he cared. More like he was... intellectually engaged. Professionally intrigued. Possibly a little nauseous

“They worked under Prowl"

“PROWL?! You mean—rules incarnate? Mister ‘Let’s Commit War Crimes But Quietly’ !?”

“The one and only” Drift confirmed smoothly “High-level strategy corps. Joint command ops. Dozens of successful missions. Commendations for tactical elegance, command precision—”

“Okay, okay, you can stop reading their résumé, this isn’t a talent show” Rodimus began to pace, movements sharp and erratic like a hovercraft trying to salsa “They worked with me and said I was reckless, but then they go partner up with Prowl? That sentient flowchart? Seriously?”

Drift was already sipping again “Maybe they like the quiet, measured type now. The kind who doesn’t detonate their own escape pod just to spell ‘hello’ in midair”

“That happened one time”

“And it was somehow still in the mission report”

Rodimus groaned into his hands. He imagined you and Prowl standing next to each other, talking shop, making flawless tactical adjustments while not even blinking at each other — It was horrible. It was clinical. It was worse than anything he could’ve imagined

“What else?” he asked, in the voice of someone about to regret every answer

Drift’s optics flicked “They turned down a permanent command position. Said they wanted a ‘change of pace' ”

“—So… they chose this ship. My ship”

“Seems that way”

“Knowing I was the captain”

“Still seems that way”

Rodimus blinked. Then frowned. Then blinked again, slower. Like it would change the data “So what you’re telling me is: either they’ve secretly forgiven me and came to rekindle the flame—”

“Highly unlikely”

“—or they came here to watch me fail up close, with popcorn in hand and a tactical spreadsheet”

“That one sounds more plausible”

Rodimus placed both hands dramatically on the bartop and huffed. Dramatically. Theatrically. The only way he could before he declared, straightening up “I’m fine.. I’m a professional. This is my ship. I am not threatened by my ex working with a glorified calculator"

...

..

“…Do you think they ever kissed?”

“Please go to therapy”

—

The outpost was still burning behind you

Fires licked at twisted steel frames and shattered windowpanes, the heat rippling off slagged ground like a second atmosphere. The smoke stung your optics, even with the filters on, but you didn’t blink. Hot Rod stood a few paces away, armor scorched and mouth set in that stubborn line that always came right before he said something reckless. You didn’t give him the chance

“What were you thinking?” Your voice was level. Too level. The kind of calm that meant someone was furious. Hot Rod flinched. Not visibly—but you knew the twitch at the corner of his mouth, the flicker in his EM field when he was caught “I saved them”

He said “I had to”

“You disobeyed a coordinated strategy, blew through our cover, and almost got yourself killed—again”

He looked at you now. Really looked. Heat still clung to him like a second skin, optics burning, frame vibrating with leftover adrenaline. And somewhere underneath all that fire was a flicker of… confusion. As if he still didn’t understand why you weren’t proud of him

“But it worked”

“That’s not the point”

You turned to face him fully, field tightening, anger settling into your shoulders like weight “You’re not a one-mech army, Hot Rod. You’re not invincible. You can’t keep throwing yourself into every explosion and expecting everyone else to clean up after you”

He stepped forward, hands half-raised “I did it to protect other”

“No. You did it because you wanted to be seen protecting other”

There it was. The silence after a sharp cut. His optics widened, and for a moment you saw it, that bare, wounded flicker of a spark hit too close to the truth. But he covered it with bravado—because that’s what he did. That’s what he always did “So that’s it? You think I’m just some attention seeking show off?”

“I think you’re brave. I think you’re passionate. I think you’ll make a great hero one day–”

“..But I also think you’ll never learn how to lead, if you can’t learn how to listen” That hit deeper than the last shot he’d taken in the field

He turned away, jaw locked, fists clenched “So what, then?” he said, voice tight

“You’re walking away? Just like that?”

You hesitated—but only for a moment “I don’t want to. But I can’t spend my life patching up the aftermath of every decision you make on impulse –You always dive first and ask questions later. And I.. I want to build something that lasts. Not chase something that burns” you admitted softly

The silence between you was long and cruel —without another word—you stepped back. Hot Rod didn’t stop you. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what hurt the most

After the breakup with Hot Rod, you took a high-ranking strategic position under Prowl—not romantically, but deeply professionally and intellectually tense

Prowl respected your mindset but hated your moral flexibility and tendency to “go rogue if the math is prettier that way” You – in turn, found Prowl’s rigid morality fascinating and enjoyed poking holes in his logic — Their relationship was legendary among staff—half strategy meetings, half philosophy battles. You both made an unstoppable duo on paper. But behind closed doors?

“That is not regulation protocol”

“Neither is surviving half the war. I’ll take my odds”

Eventually, you left when the war ended, saying something like: “If I stay any longer, I’ll either become you or throw you out an airlock. Neither’s ideal”

The medbay lights flickered once before steadying again. Outside, the sky over the outpost glowed red with the aftermath of an explosion. You stood at the outside, arms crossed, helm tilted just enough to convey “I’m not mad, but I’m seconds away from strangling you with my own field”

The door hissed open with a battered flair, and there he was—Hot Rod in all his half-scorched, grinning, chaos-stained glory. One arm was covered in carbon scoring. His left shoulder was leaking a thin trickle of energon. There was what looked like a thruster casing lodged in his hip plate

And he was still smiling. Of course he was

“You should’ve seen it” Hot Rod said, voice bouncing with adrenaline “I looped around the ridge, came in low—boom! Took out the flank in one go. Didn’t even need backup”

You didn’t look up from your datapad “You told me you’d follow the plan”

“Technically, I did. For the first ten seconds”

“And after that?”

“...It got boring?”

You set the datapad down. Slowly

Hot Rod’s grin twitched “It worked, didn’t it?” he said, stepping closer “Mission success. I’m standing. The ridge is rubble. Everyone’s cheering”

“You nearly didn’t come back”

You stared at him—really stared. All that molten gold, still burning in his optics. His armor still warm from the blast. That stupid, crooked grin he wore like a shield

“You know I hate improvising. Not because it’s reckless. But because it’s you. You gamble like your life isn’t worth anything”

“Hey, come on—”

“Rod”

That landed. His grin faltered for real now

“I’m serious. Every time you run off-script, it’s like you’re testing fate. And I’m the one stuck writing the damage report” You stepped closer, thumb brushing a burn mark near his jaw. The scorch made your spark ache a little. He leaned into your touch without thinking. Like a reflex. Like your hand on his face was the only real thing in the place

“One of these days” you murmured “you’ll pull that stunt and I won’t be there to drag your aft out”

“That’s not true” he said softly

“No?”

“You’d come back for me. Always”

You wanted to argue. But you couldn’t. Not really. Because even now—even furious, even worn out—you were here. And when he leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth his head dipped low down to your jaw, kissing soft like apology, you let him. His hands found your waist. Familiar. Easy. A rhythm you both still remembered

“You love it when I push my luck” he said into your helm

“I love you, Roddy. That doesn’t mean I love watching you destroy yourself”

That hit harder than a mine to the chest. He didn’t pull away. Just held you tighter. You sighed, pressing your faceplate against his shoulder. He still smelled faintly like ozone and energon. Still radiated that wild, sun-hot energy that made you both love and fear him

“Next time” you said into the space between you “you disobey a field order, I’m duct-taping you to Ultra Magnus”

“...Kinky”

You laughed. Just a little. Couldn’t help it “Don’t make me regret loving you”

There was a long silence. No snappy comeback. No flirt. Just a stillness that made your spark ache. His arms tightened around you and for one fleeting, fragile moment—you let yourself believe this would last

—

You are alone in the quiet of the hallway. Staring at the window, the stars wheeling slowly past beyond the glass. It wasn't dramatic solitude—you weren't hiding. Just… decompressing. That was all. Your optics drifted to your own reflection—faint, transparent, caught in the black

And for some damn reason, his voice echoed there instead

“You'd come back for me. Always"

Primus

You let your head fall back with a soft thunk against the reinforced wall. He wasn't wrong

You had come back. Not for him—never that, never openly. But… well. You hadn't exactly gone out of your way to avoid the Lost Light, either. And when Magnus had offered the post? You could've said no. You didn't and now here you were. Sharing meetings. Sharing air. Sharing old ghosts

Your fingers tapped against your datapad in a slow, guilty rhythm

“Stupid charming idiot with fire in his optics and no sense of self-preservation” you muttered under your breath. You knew that smile he gave you in the last meeting. Knew it like a habit you never quite kicked and the worst part? That stupid little ember in your spark still glowed when he looked your way

“Okay. Fine. He was right” You let out a small, strangled sound through your vents

Not quite a groan. Not quite a sigh. Just the noise of someone on the edge of "Why am I like this?" and "I could still jump out the airlock and make it look like strategy” You pressed your head lightly against the cool surface of the wall. Just for a second. Just enough to feel the metal and imagine it was hitting you back. No matter how reckless he was. No matter how much he grinned like the universe owed him forgiveness. No matter how much it still ached when you looked at him and remembered the way things used to be. You stood upright again with a snap of your shoulders and a squint of righteous self-annoyance

“Next time he he opens that mouth" you mumbled “I’m going to verbally gut him. Real clean. Sharp. Professional. Something with bite, doubling the sarcasm. Go for the ego. Aim for the hair fins. That’ll shut him up" You narrowed your optics at your reflection—your own face looking smug in the glass “He gets one more pass. After that, I’m escalating. He’s going to wish I never came back”

“Stars, I hope he does that thing with his optics again though…” and maybe—maybe—if you kept throwing enough barbs, you could stop remembering how it felt when he held you like that and made you believe the fire wouldn’t burn

You buried your face in your hand

“..I need therapy"

[spectrazzz]

Can we start making some cybertronian reader fics 😔? like ik theres a tag for that but it barely gets any post and sometimes I just wanna be a cool tall space robot 😭

Don’t get me wrong the human ones are so good but I would make a transformer oc and there wouldn’t be any new fics besides the human ones and if there is it takes forever to find them

[lavenlady]

Hi again!

I really enjoyed the HCs you wrote from the last request I sent you. I have another one you can try out.

May I request HCs of [Bayverse] Ironhide with a Cybertronian![S/O] [Romantic] [Femme] who’s based on Viper from Valorant?

In the game, Viper is a Controller, somebody who uses strategic methods on the battlefield and utilizes her expertise in Chemistry to create chemical devices to choke out enemies. Her character traits can be unforgiving to enemies, but can seemingly be kind to allies. The [Reader] would have that kind of personality.

The two would work well together on battlefields and when working on projects.

I can imagine the two creating weapons filled with chemicals [Reader] developed, only harmful to Cybertronians (which mainly targets Decepticons).

Cybertronian![Reader]’s alt. mode is an MV Agusta F4 R 312.

Here you go! Enjoy!

✦ Chemical Love ✦ | Bayverse Ironhide x Viper!Cybertronian!Reader

☄ You and Ironhide met before the war on Cybertron. It was purely accidental

☄ You were so immersed in your research you had ran into him, knocking down both of you to the ground

☄ You had exchanged some words and saw he had interesting hobbies, thus you choose to hang out

☄ Though shortly after the conflict caught up to your lives. Destroying everything you loved, not leaving any pieces to pick up

☄ It was understandable you were angry, or rather said furious, but you bottled up those feeling deep beneath. You were going to make those Decepticons pay for the damage they had done

☄ This is where you met Ironhide again and you had chosen to join his fraction. Soon both of you were assigned to assist Optimus Prime - leader of the Autobot

☄ Your research continued with your tests taking place on the battlefield. Most of your missions were with Ironhide and surprisingly both of you worked well together - no Decepticon could escape your wrath

☄ Sadly your planet was destroyed by the war and forced you to evacuate

☄ You landed near an amusement park, but luckily noone was near your crash site

☄ You ran into Ironhide again and choose to stay by each other's side till Optimus called

☄ This is where you met Samuel Witwicky, the grandson of Archibald Witwicky, the one who discovered Megatron

" What? You like my guns? Wanna have a taste? "

" Please - it would be too quick. Why not use some poison to pass the time? "

☄ You scared the guy, but it was funny to do so

" Are they together? Like- they get along pretty well- "

☄ Now you were annoyed

☄ Though you liked the weapon specialist, that human knew nothing for all you cared. But it wouldn't be too bad

☄ The final fight came and with it Megatron had fallen, that success didn't come without sacrifices. Jazz was a brave warrior, but it was the end of his live

☄ For now you could rest and await the next possible attack from the Decepticons

☄ During that time you and Ironhide got along even better

" You know, you are quite nice to hang out with. "

" Mhmm. You too are tolerable, Ironhide. "

" Wanna go to the training grounds? "

" With pleasure. Be ready to lose. "

" Likewise. "

☄ Hope nothing bad happens anytime soon.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□

( Hope you liked it! )

(Master list)

[i-starcreamed]

Hi!, can I get some headcanons of transformers one character being jealous and the reader teases them.

D-16, Orion, Sentinel, Badassatron, and elita.

TF-ONE X READER

I tried to make this silly I'm feeling silly...enjoy

Post includes all of above :3

D-16

Tries to act unaffected by it, but doesn’t make a huge deal

Usually

He’s usually nice about it

Let’s say a bot is being really friendly with you, they’re making you laugh and everything. D sees from the distance, then comes up to you. Placing a servo against the small of your back-frame. “Heyy what’s so funny? I want to hear too :)”

He’s forcing a smile so bad.

He’s harmless, man, he trusts you completely

If another bot is for real flirting with you though, he's going to be so passive-aggressive

It’s more like he wants ur attention lol

If you teased him about it he’s going to deny it so hard

"What? No, no no.. I’m not jealous..pfft"

If you’re extra sweet maybe he’ll admit it

NOO y/n.. I’m funnier than them anyway.. I’m cooler too..

Orion

Don’t get jealous often either

He trusts you, he’s trustful of most bots

He gets jealous when you don't give him enough attention too

You’ll be talking to someone and he’ll just be in the background like,

“I’m..Y/N? Hey I..y/n? Uhm..I'm..right here..”

He’s so awkward, he doesn’t want to be rude to either of you but he’s lonely!!

If you tease him about looking sad when you’re not looking at him all the time, he’ll softly scoff.

"Well...yeah. They were flirting with you.."

sad puppy eyes

"Orion..they were asking me about Sentinels speech yesterday.."

"Oh...sorry."

eughhh

Sentinel

Oh boy

It’s a mix of irritation and jealousy

Why are you looking at someone else! When you can be looking at him!

He might be an attention seeker. He’ll just say things to catch your attention.

“Hey sweetspark, come look at my new paint job!” He calls you over as you're busy talking to someone else, he looks exactly the same btw

If you teased him I feel like he’ll take it way too seriously

“Jealous? What is there to be jealous of?? I’m literally Sentinel??”

But then his insecurity starts

“Wait…do you like talking to them more?”

evil sad puppy eyes

He'll only be content if you feed him compliments. Also erm..never talk to that bot again

#toxic

If he can’t demote the bot he was jealous of, he’ll try to one-up them, otherwise they are FIRED

After he gets over it he’ll be extra affectionate. You also get affectionate when you tease him so maybe it’s not so bad after all

insert makeout session

B-127

Badassatron

He’s definitely a bit attention and touch-starved after being stuck in low levels for who knows how many years

It’s only logical that he’s glued to your side for the rest of your life

If he’s jealous it’s very obvious. He tries to do something to get your attention or awkwardly stands there

Hey y/n look at this! - Does a backflip and falls

Tease him about it and he gets flustered

"Whattt? No, I’m not jealous!" He lets out a cocky laugh

“Ok maybe a little..”

Kiss his faceplate all over and he’s yours

He's definitely the least harmful

If he's jealous about a bot he particularly dislikes or they're flirting with you out and about, he might be more passive-aggressive about it

"Hey don't mean to intrude or anything, but uh, I'm kinda busy with my PARTNER. And by PARTNER I mean we're together. Yeah, uh huh! So, if you don't mind, my PARTNER and I are going to ignore you now. Since we're y'know..busy being together."

Elita

She’s smug about her jealousy, but only you could tell

“No, I’m not jealous. What makes you think that?”

Meanwhile, she’s giving the nastiest glare to the other bot.

“You really need to stop bringing their hopes up. Did you hear the way they were flirting with you?”

“Elita...they were just thanking me."

“Don’t even look at them actually"

If you tease her, she either denies it or is very proud

Like yeah she got a little jealous, she has such an amazing partner and anyone in their right mind would see that too.

Or no..she's definitely not jealous. She's just speaking her mind

[animekidkt]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66707845/chapters/172110880

[gardens-light]

Opposites Attract

Unlike his friend, D16 often kept his head down and followed protocol. Going through his usual routine one cycle after another, only stepping out of his normality whenever Orion Pax needed to be pulled out of trouble. Yet... he'd be lying, if he ever said his optics never occasionally drifted towards the one thing he's wanted. You. The High Guard that had stolen his spark, who's beauty could only be compared to the sparkling towers of Iacon. Something he could never touch and never to keep. For he accepted the fact you both were from different worlds. Something that not even one of the 'great plans' of Orion Pax could change... right...?

Content: D16/Megatron TFO x F/Cybertronian Reader. Fluff.

Toiling away under the flickering lights and constant hum of machinery. The cavernous walls of the mine glittered with the veins of energon, their iridescent glow faintly illuminating the surroundings.

As the others grinded away at the seams of energon, Orion Pax's gaze flickered up at D16, noticing the distracted expression upon his faceplate.

"Hey D. You ok?"

Startled and snapping out of his daze, D16 briefly looked over his shoulder. "Huh? Oh- yeah, yeah. I'm fine." he replied dismissively, casually returning his blank gaze back to the task at hand.

"You know I've got your back. Right...?"

"I know, I know you do, Orion. It's just... it's nothing. Really."

Orion lowered his tools, placing a hand on D16's shoulder as his movements became a bit more forceful, as if he was trying to take out his frustration on the cave walls.

Stiffening under his friend's touch, finally taking a moment of pause as he met Orion's concerned gaze.

"It's just... it's stupid. I honestly don't know why I'm even bothered by it." A heavy sigh escaped D16's lips, dropping his tools and leaning against the rocky wall behind him. "I... bumped into someone this morning before shift. It was a little thing really, but the simple shock of it... the shock of realizing who it was... I-I've never seen her in person before, only from the holos, but... Primus, Orion. She was... perfect!"

"Don't give me that look." He groaned, seeing the faint smile tugging on Orion's faceplate. "It's not like I have a chance with her. There's no universe where she'd be slightest bit of interested in some lowly mech like me-"

"C'mon D... don't be like that-"

"Why shouldn't I? It's the truth and you know it." D16 pushed himself off the wall and resumed his work. Wielding his tools with more force than necessary. The sharp ringing of metal against stone echoed throughout the cavern.

"Because there's gotta be more to life than just... this!" Orion protested, gesturing to their surroundings. "Don't you want to try and be more than what we're 'supposed' to be?-"

"What else are we supposed to be, then?!" D16 scowled, swinging his tool once more, causing a shower of sparks to fly up. The glow of the energon-flecked rock reflected off the planes of his face, casting deep shadows under his optics. For a brief moment, the harsh environment seemed to aged his otherwise youthful features. "We're miners! Built for this! Just because you have grand dreams and aspirations, doesn't mean the rest of us do!"

Orion flinched, pausing for moment before finding his voice again. "You're... not seriously gonna just admire this femme from afar...? I-I've seen the way you look at her. You adore her!-"

"It doesn't matter, Orion. She's far beyond me. I'm... just a simple miner, and she's a High Guard. There's no point in even entertaining the thought that I could ever... be with her."

"Why not? Who says you couldn't? You're just as good as any mech!-"

"Oh yeah! I'm sure she'd be enthralled by my rugged charm and the coal dust that's constantly clinging to my frame!" D16 bitterly laughed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I bet she'd swoon over the grease stains on my servos. And of course, the highlight! My endless stories of energon extraction- it just gets the femmes going every time! Clearly!"

Grinding away at the cavern wall, using the repetitive motion of his tools against the stone to distract him from the thoughts spinning through his processor. The dull ache in D16's servos felt like a welcomed relief compared to the turmoil in his spark. A small thorn of guilt pricked at his circuits, as he caught Orion's somber expression within the corner of his optic.

Both fell into a tense silence, the only sound of steady rhythmic clang of metal on stone dragging out till the end of their long shift.

---

Eventually the twelfth hour came to an end, D16 and Orion headed to the nearest exit along with their fellow miners. Grimy from the day's work, their servos stained and joins sore from exertion. D16 stretches lazily, trying to work out the kinks in his wiring, rolling his neck and shoulders as he walked beside Orion.

Raising an optic ridge, following his friend's gaze. D16's spark practically stutters when he spots you not far in the distance. A sweet smile framing your lips, as you spoke to another High Guard, your polished form standing out against the dingy backdrop of the mining station. D16's spark pulsed within it's chamber, sending zaps of electricity throughout his circuits, as if you're a magnet drawing him in. As you turned away from your fellow High Guard, the silver miner quickly avoided eye contact, secretly hoping you didn't notice him as he stared at the floor.

Hiding his mischievous smile, Orion slowed his pace a little. His gaze stubley peering up at you every so often, as the gap between you and his friend gradually closes. Secretly positioning himself slightly behind you, Orion quickly pushed you into D16.

His optics widen as you came crashing down on top of him, your sudden weight causing him to lose balance and fall onto his back with a surprised 'oof.'

"H-Hey! Watch where you're..." oh... Primus...

Subtle warmth slowly raised beneath his faceplates, as passers by raised an optic ridge at your... rather compromising position. Your tall yet slender frame caging D16 beneath you, while his servos hovered awkwardly above your waist.

"Ow..."

A jolt of electricity shot through him, a gasp slipping past his lips as your weight shifted onto his legs, straddling his lap. His servos itched towards your thighs, his amber optics watching the grime and dirt rub off onto your otherwise flawless paintwork. Quickly glancing up at you with an apologetic expression, as your optics flickered open.

"By the AllSpark! Are you ok?" your melody tone was filled with concern, as your soft gaze met his. "I-I honestly don't know what happened."

Taking a moment to collect himself, D16's servos involuntary slowly slid up and down your thighs. "I'm... I'm fine. No harm done... are you alright?"

A subtle heat rose to your faceplates, making them warm to the touch, as your optics flickered down at your thighs. Feeling the miner's calloused servos subconsciously caress your sooth metal.

Following your shy gaze, embarrassment flushed across D16's features. Quickly pulling his servos away and scrambling to sit up properly, his chassis brushing against yours. His optics nervously darting around, attempting to avoid your gaze while his spark wildly pulsed within its chamber.

Both raising onto your peds, and after a brief moment of hesitation. The miner's gaze slowly trailed up your form, as you brushed off the coal dust and grime.

"Primus... s-sorry about that." A pang of guilt struck his inner-circuits, while D16 fussed over you. His spark skipping a beat as you gave him a sweet smile. The warmth of your body made his processor go all fuzzy, not being able to string a single thought.

"Thank you-"

"D! There you are! I've been looking for you." Orion's cheerful voice interrupted. Pulling his usual warm smile, ignoring his friend's annoyed glare as Orion wrapped an arm around D16's shoulders. "Please forgive my clumsy friend, ma'am. If you'll allow it, he'd would like to properly apologize for this whole inconvenience. Perhaps over some energon? His treat, of course."

What?! D16's optics widened, as his glare narrowed onto his friend. For sparks sake, Orion! Now isn't the time to conjure up one of your 'master plans!'

You held up your servos. "Oh... that's very sweet. But he doesn't-"

"Nonsense. He insists. Right, buddy?"

Not wanting to bring anymore attention, than Orion already did. D16 slowly nodded, as an irritated huff escaped him.

His optics flickered towards you, as your sweet chuckles came to his audio receivers. Clearly finding somewhat some form of amusement, as the miner obviously looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Very well... if he insists. U-Um... when?"

"How about this evening?" Orion's smile widened, clapping a hand upon D16's shoulder, who subtly cringed under his friend's touch. "D knows a great energon bar down the way, The Cranked Gear. Very laid-back atmosphere, perfect for a casual... meeting."

The warmth beneath D16's plates rose, as he caught a glimpse of your sweet smile. Your soft gaze roaming over his frame, "sounds great. See you later... D."

"What. The. Fragg was that?!" the silver miner snapped once you were out of earshot. A mixture of disbelief and frustration etched into his faceplates, "you set me up!"

"Hey... I was just trying to help." Orion held up his servos in surrender. "Plus, it proves you have a chance with her-"

"Are you kidding me? There's no chance!" D16 threw his servos up in exasperation, his inner-circuits coiling with tension. "She's a High Guard. I'm a cogless miner-bot. We're practically from different worlds! What am I supposed to do? Just sit there and make a fool of myself?"

A weak smile came to Orion, shrugging as he tried to give D16 some form of reassurance. "From... what I've heard. You kinda just... sit there and talk when you're on a date."

"Gee, thanks for the helpful advice." D16 frowned, his tone dripping in sarcasm. "I'll just sit there and chat about the weather and my thrilling work in energon extraction." A low groan escaped his lips, while pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't know why or how I let you talk me into things, y'know..." This is gonna be a disaster.

Later That Evening

Rocking upon his heels, shifting nervously from pede to pede. A subtle hopeful expression etched upon his features, as D16 glanced around for you.

No sign of her yet...

Taking a deep breath, trying to steady his spark and nerves. While his processor ran through potential conversation topics, attempting to prepare something interesting to say. A sigh escaping his lips, as D16 looked down at himself, suddenly hyper-aware of his frame. His rough, dull plating starkly stood out against the sleek finish of the other mechs in the vicinity.

Hopefully... she's not too put off by my rough exterior-

"Good evening... hopefully you haven't been waiting long."

Your soft tone snapped him out of his thoughts, his wide eyed stare roaming over your newly polished figure. "No! Uh, I mean... no. I just got here... you look..."

"What...?" you quickly looked down at yourself. Examining particular spots over your frame, "do I still have coal dust on me or something?"

"No! No! You look good. Great, even. Better than great!" fragging idiot. "Um... shall we...?"

Giving him a brief smile, you followed D16's lead into the bar. Sunken ceiling lights lit the area with a warm, gentle hue. The atmosphere bustling with chatter and laughter. Making your way through the clutter of tables and chairs, D16 could practically feel the surprised and confused expressions of the patrons, as they took in your presence.

He knew that the pair of you must make quite the duo, a miner and a High Guard. While guiding the way through the bar, his optics narrowed onto the nearest bots, silently daring them to say something. Leading you to a more secluded booth in the far corner, the lights became slightly more dim, creating more intimate feel. While the patrons chatter reduced to lulled muffle.

Your smile slightly widened, as D16 pulled out a seat for you. Politely waiting til you were settled before taking a seat opposite you.

"So... uh... how was your day?" his voice was uncharacteristically low, while his digits anxiously fidgeted wit the edge of the table. Seriously? That's the best you can come up with? Come on!

"Um... alright. Nothing out of the ordinary."

The awkward tension slowly eased into the space between you, as D16's processor scrambled for a new topic.

"That's good... My shift down in the mines was pretty normal. Just the... usual amount of ore. No issues with the equipment- well, one drill malfunctioned. But we fixed it quick enough."

D16's spark nervously pulsed through his wires, as you flashed him a weak smile. Replying with a simple nod, "oh... um, sounds... eventful? Would you... like to order some energon?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure. I, uh, should probably warn you though. The stuff they serve here isn't exactly the most refined. It's... got a kind of a bite to it."

After answering with shrug, D16 took the cue to approach the nearby bar. The bartender passed him the drinks with a knowing glance, only to be greeted with the miner's glare in return. Knowing full well that the whole bar was undoubtedly watching him, make his way back to you.

Settling himself back into his seat, carefully sliding your drink towards you. As he took a sip from his own, the smooth taste a momentary distraction from the awkward tension.

Noticing your half-hearted smile, a pang of guilt thumped within his spark. This a complete fragging diseater! Why can't I say anything? I can practically feel this whole thing already crashing and burning in front of me!-

"What's... that on your shoulder?"

"Huh?" D16 followed your gaze, briefly noticing you pausing from your drink. A subtle warmth radiated beneath his faceplates as embarrassment swept through his frame. "Oh, uh, that's just... a sticker. My friend, Orion put it there a while ago, and I... forgot to remove it-"

"Oh no. Don't remove it." The tone of your voice peaked a little, as your gaze softened. Admiring the sticker's holographic shine. "It looks good on you. You should see my stasis pod in my private quarters."

A shy smile lit up his features, as D16's spark fluttered within it's chamber. "Y-You... you think so? I, uh... I appreciate that. And... what's on your stasis pod?"

"My favorite, Solus Prime. But I promise it's only a small sticker."

"Ah, a Solus fan, eh?" a small chuckle escaped his lips. Optics shining with a glimmer of amusement. "Not too shabby. Can't blame you, she was a badass warrior. And... only a small sticker, you say?"

Holding up your servo, almost pinching the air between your thumb and index digit. "This small. Nothing too crazy."

"Oh, phew." A light laugh escaped his lips, as D16 mockly wiped an invisible bead of condensation upon his forehelm. "I was worried you had her face on a full sized wall mural. But just a little sticker? That's much more reasonable."

Your sweet chuckles rung through the air between the pair of you, like a sweet melody. Lifting the awkwardness that lingered before, finally giving him the chance to actually feel connected with you.

Feeling a bit more emboldened, D16 continued. "Seriously. Solus is a solid choice. But I'd have to go with Megatronus, personally."

Raising an optic ridge, while tilting your helm to the side. "What draws to you him?"

Leaning back in his seat, a look of admiration sparkled within his optics. "Well, apart from being the most fearsome warrior in Cybertron's history. He was also a brilliant strategist! He could take on any opponent and come out on top! Plus, he's just... so incredibly powerful. Unstoppable really! I guess I've... always looked up to him for that kind of strength."

A small smile teased the corner of your lips, trying to hide it behind your cup. "That's very true. I gotta admit that he's a total badass."

"Oh. He's definitely a badass! I remember reading tales about his battles against the Quintessons, and let me tell you. They're the stuff of legend! He could take on an entire army by himself and come out with nothing but a scratch."

"Careful." Your teasing tone purred. "Your fanboy is showing."

The warmth beneath his faceplates grow even more, as embarrassment crept back into his frame. Clearing his vocal processor, attempting to return to his usual demeanor while his spark skipped a beat. "What? I'm just stating facts."

Taking the last sip from your drink, your soft gaze trailed down his chassis. D16 subconsciously shifts his body, covering his cogless chamber. His spark pulsing more, avoiding your gaze while taking another mouthful of his drink.

A lull ache pulsed throughout your frame, guilt jabbing your at your spark. "Forgive me... I-I shouldn't have starred-"

"It's... It's fine." The lull ache within you begun to painfully prick at your spark, as D16's words held a more rougher edge than he intended. "You were just curious. I don't blame you."

A subtle blanket of awkward silence slowly crept back into the air, as hesitation temporarily stole your words. A flicker of surprise flashed within D16's optics, as his soft gaze noticed your servo edging closer to him across the table. Breath almost got stuck in his vents as he met your optics, the colour shining with genuine curiosity and a hint of compassion.

The question swirling within your processor, softly escaped your lips in just above a whisper. "Can I...?"

Answering with a simple nod. D16 flinched slightly as you touched his cogless chamber, as if bracing himself for judgement or ridicule. Yet your expression remained soft, a hint of... affection? Flickering within your optics. As your digits gently traced the otter rim of his circular chamber, a strange sense of comfort washed over him. The gesture surprisingly tender, as he found himself relaxing under your touch.

"It's... It's a pretty pathetic sight... isn't it?"

Another prang of guilt pulsed throughout your inner-circuits, as you picked up the subtle shame hiding within D16's words. "What? No! No, of course not. Just... different..."

"Different? That's one way to put it." D16's tone held a bitter edge, while a scoff escaped him. "I mean... look at me. A cogless miner bot. I'm a pathetic excuse for a Cybertronian."

Great... Hanging his head low, a heavy sigh escaped him. Why did you steer the conversation in that direction? You idiot!-

Crunch!

Snap!

D16's optics widened as he witnessed you tear away a small section of your forearm. His puzzled gaze flickering to the soft smile upon your lips, your optics shining with kindness as an idea crossed your processor.

"Wait! What are you doing?-"

Your soft smile, sweetened as you leaned back in your seat. Purposely positioning yourself just out of his reach, while you worked on the scrap piece of metal. Only taking a few moments to flatten it, using the table's edge to smooth and round off the edges, before holding up the now makeshift disk for inspection.

"I... know it's not real." D16's spark fluttered within his chassis, as his wide optics met your loving gaze. His breath hitching as you reached across the table, placing the makeshift disk into his empty cog chamber. "But maybe... a part of me could be... your 'cog?'"

Staring down at the makeshift 'cog' which now rested in the chamber, a hopeful pulse beat through your inner circuits as your spark skipped.

For a moment, he couldn't find the words to express the swirling emotions within his spark. Surprise, gratitude, affection... They all crashed together in a wonderful mess.

"I-I... I don't know what to say. This is..." D16 slowly placed a servo over his cog chamber, feeling the shape of his new 'cog' inside.

The act itself wasn't just incredibly kind but... surprisingly intimate. The fact that you would willingly give up a part of yourself for him. To make him feel more... complete.

I-I... would never believed... never have imagined...

H-Have I... overstepped somehow? You nervously swallowed a lump in your vocal processor. Was it too much?

But the invisible tug upon the corners of his lips, was enough to slowly calm your racing spark. For he couldn't help but stare at you in quiet awe, as D16's processor still reel from your act. He gently reached a servo across the table, resting it atop your own. A silent gesture of gratitude and affection, while his optics met yours.

"Th-This... was unexpected- wonderful! Thoughtful! But just... unexpected..." he lowly spoke. "How could I ever thank you?"

"Well..." your sweet smile turned slightly flirty, as your thumb caressed D16's knuckles. "Maybe... you could demonstrate your strength to me? I... heard miners are strong."

D16's faceplates heats up at your flirtatious tone, a rush of nervous excitement tingles pulsed throughout his frame.

"O-Oh..." his amber optics glanced around the bar, making sure nobody was eavesdropping as he returned your smile. "And... how would you like me to demonstrate that? Perhaps somewhere more... private?"

Butterflies entangled your wires, as D16's servo took yours in a slightly tighter grip. "Where did you have in mind?"

His breath hitched a little, feeling you checking him out. The touch of your servo beneath his sent a shiver through his circuits. Gradual confidence filled his spark, as he leaned in a bit further, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "I know a secluded spot not too far from here. It'll give us all the privacy we need for a... rigorous demonstration."

"Sounds perfect."

D16 gives you a sly smile, his frame buzzing with anticipation as you softly bit your bottom lip. Sliding out of the booth, his optics meeting yours. Extending a servo out to you, a silent offer to follow him. "This way gorgeous."

[yandere-wishes]

hey whenever you can, can you make some yandere d-16

❥༄ؘ I'll do you one better Anon!! How about Yandere D-16 vs Megatron

𝄞 Somebody That I Used To Know (Slowed)

✿˗ˏˋ ✴︎D-16✴︎ ˎˊ˗✿

.☘︎ ݁˖D-16 can't remember when exactly he first noticed the erratic pulsing of his spark straining against his metallic frame when you walked into the room. Just that, after all these cycles, it had remained constant, enrapt. Pulling him to you.

.☘︎ ݁˖D-16 has a tendency to pick at things he likes, things he finds bizarrely blissfulas. He wishes he could leave them alone, leave the questions locked under his tongue and the paint free of servo marks. But he can't, indifference only gets you so far, and while he tries to follow protocol. He can't always let things go. He can't let you go.

.☘︎ ݁˖He watches as you chip away at sedimentary rock, coated in soot as you trek for the liquid lifeline. He can't help but think you look like a princess from those old spark-tales. Circuitella. Dainty and disheveled. He wonders if he should offer to carry your jackhammer on the way back to the barracks. He wonders if his voice box can even form words in your presence. He settles for trailing behind you. Optics darting between the stone walls and the back of your helm. Orian laughs and laughs and laughs. D-16 can't help but see the humor in it all. Irony too early to land.

.☘︎ ݁˖He didn't mean to drag you to the surface. It just so happens that on that exact day, there was a forgotten crate. And in that exact moment, you'd decided to personally deliver it to the surface train. It just so happens he grabs your servo, pulling into the shadow of the crates. Tucked away beneath him. Heading for doom or glory or a grotesque third.

.☘︎ ݁˖D-16 is obsessive, longing for his darling from afar. Desperate for a sliver of your attention, desperate for the shadow of your presence. He can't help but watch you, optics trailing over your gorgeous features. He can't help but dream of the taste of your lips and sturdy touch as he chips away at a vein.

.☘︎ ݁˖He secretly collects little pieces of your essence. Keeping them locked in his chest chamber right above his spark. Chipped paint, a piece of metal from your plating, tiny parts of an old drill you once used. He needs you in ways he can't understand, ways that claw at his processor and spark like the wild beasts Megatrouns used to fight. Needs to hear your voice as you complain about a stiff joint or your breathy giggle as you laugh at him and Orian arguing again.

.☘︎ ݁˖He wishes he could collect stickers of you. Stick them across his frame and watch the iridescent glow under Cybertron's sun. Wishes he could decorate his measly possessions with your radiant smile and sparkling optics.

.☘︎ ݁˖Is it weird that I LOVE the thought of D-16 collecting stickers? Mostly of Megatrous but also of the other primes, famous racers, sentinel prime, etc.

.☘︎ ݁˖The thought of Sentinel Prime having touched you, having stolen a part of you (let alone a part of him) leaves him teetering on lava rage, leaving his spark breaking in ways he didn't know it could.

.☘︎ ݁˖D-16 is still a child, young and new by Cybertronian standards. But age isn't gauged by online cycles now is it? It's measured in accomplishments and opalescent dreams. So maybe the little Sparkling voice screaming in the back of his helm isn't too far off. Crying that by stealing his T-cog, your T-cog. Sentinel screwed up something in your circuitry. Maybe you were always sparkbound. Maybe you were the incarnation of Solus Prime and he, Megatronus. Maybe you where always destined to be together.

.☘︎ ݁˖These thoughts burn his processor during the treacherous trek back home, back to Iacon. Can you even call he even call that cage a home? D-16 hovers closer to you. Growing bolder, even daring to leave his servo on your shoulder pad. Daring to hold your servo and drag you out of danger.

.☘︎ ݁˖"Thanks, D" you chirp cheerfully and he thinks his spark might just erupt. "Yeah it's nothing" he mutters jogging after Orian leaving you behind with a giggling and concerned Elita-one.

.☘︎ ݁˖After "retrieving" Megatronus's T-cog from Sentinel he swears on Primus himself that he shall fuse you with Solus Prime's T-cog solidifying your love. Bounding you to him through every incarnation.

.☘︎ ݁˖D-16 is tragic in every way. His fall makes Cybertron shake, his new scarlet optics send a shiver through the universe. Obsession and subjugation. Anger and Hate. D-16 burns away, you feel it when you kiss him over Sentinel's corpse. The monster in his place bites your lips trying to devour every inch of your. Conquer, Conquer, Conquer

.☘︎ ݁˖Even if Orion Pax/Optimus Prime tries to protect you. Keep you in Iacon safe from the bot he once called brother. There is no way he can stop the newly evolved warlord from hunting you down. D-16 had always been loyal to his obsessions, tearing through everything to feel them under his servos. Although back then -when they'd been happy under a blanket of lies- D-16's obsessions had simply been holographic stickers of tragic heroes. Now it's bloodstained domination. Conformation to a macraber freedom. He's no longer a little minor bot tolling away, he's Megatron now. Hungry monstrous thing raging wars until he has both his darling and Cybertron in his grasp once more. D-16 had always told Orion that he thought you nothing less than a princess. And maybe it has always been true, after all, princesses are a tragedy too.

.☘︎ ݁˖Optimus can't help but shed a tear at the thought as he watches D-16 Megatron roll away...

⋆༺𓆩𓆩Megatron𓆪𓆪༻⋆

✮ Upon your recapture, Megatron isn't too gentle. He's rough and angry. He's betrayed -again- it pricks at his spark like daggers. The first thing Megatron does is force Solus Prime's T-cog into your chassis. He promised you he'd bound you to him, didn't he? Promised you'd be together in every incarnation. And unlike every golden leader before him, Megatron intends to keep every one of his promises.

✮ He loves the sight of you writhing in pain beneath him. Runs his clawed servos over the the raw wires fusing and the circuits crunching into each other. The look of utter pain in your optics has his spark racing like the first time he saw you in the mines. He can't help but kiss you deeply, greedily swallowing your essence.

✮ You can taste his anger on your tongue. You roll the pulp of rage around your mouth swallowing the sadness, the desperation. Letting the taste burn the roof of your mouth. He calls you traitor and darling between each breath. And you can't tell if he wants to kiss your spark or decollate your helm and mount it on the wall of his new ship.

✮ Megatron suffers in shades and flavors that haven't been invented yet, you feel them swatch against your lips in every single one of his raging kisses. He isn't above leaving marks and dents across your armor. He likes you better this way broken and beautiful. Tragedy in every way

✮ He used to hate seeing you scared and defenseless. Now such a precious sight leaves him intoxicated, spark buzzing with overt excitment. He likes this power, feeling you tremble each time he raises his servo. Your life is laced between his digits, he loves tugging it harshly showing you how he controls you in every way imaginable. He likes being the monster that princesses fear. "Circuitella" he whispers under his breath, he knows you don't get the joke.

✮ Megatron likes to kill through you. Intwined digits holding a blaser, his claws on your digits pushing until the trigger releases and the bullets impale the target. He trails open-mouthed kisses across your back afterward. Sharp teeth sinking into the metal of your neck. He pulls you closer locked between his arms. When did he get so big? You remember when he'd been so utterly small. Little minor bot, where is he? Megatron never notices your melancholy optics or the whirl of your processor as it tries to distance itself from the physical world. All he cares about is your body wrapped within his. About the sweet taste of your metal and paint on his tongue.

✮ Megatron's love is lave upon open wounds, painful in every way. Where D-16's love had once been saccharine energon goodies and shy iridescent kisses. But D-16 is dead, he died with Orion all those centuries ago. Only Megatron remains. Lord Megatron, the one who keeps you caged, overpowers you with rough kisses and says "I love you" while pointing a blaser to your spark.

✮ I guess it's worth mentioning that D-16 would never harm his darling in any way but would absolutely avenge her if someone so much as left a scratch on her. Megtran punishes his darling for amusement and also because he loves her submission and fear. But I guess a little D-16 still lives inside him cause he will rip apart anyone who so much as touches his darling.

✮ Sometimes, when the lights are low and darkness begins to play it's ploys. You swear you see D-16 looking at you. Easy smile and bright sunny eyes. Body still tiny, with no pain engraved upon it. But illusions are always so quick to shatter, their precious shards melting under reality's brutal wight. D-16 withers away and in his place Lord Megatron stands. Piercing Claws and teeth gleaming under the dim light. He's gentle when he touches you laying something on your armour. Thin smile as he admires you, ethereal little you before leaving. You always check to see what he's left. It's always an iridescent sticker from his old collection...

[therobotsarestuckinmyhead]

♡ [TFA] GRIMLOCK HCs!

i wrote this eons ago on ao3 and is one of my first few HCs for this fandom so yay! also where my tfa grimlock fans at???

scenario: you're a nerd stuck with your insufferable excuse of a Space-Bridge Repair Crew on an organic planet and you're the only one happy about it.

— You were a part of Optimus Prime’s space bridge repair crew and ended up being the defenders of the planet called “Earth”, fighting off the Decepticons. Megatron and his goons were causing quite some havoc on this primitive organic planet that you’ve grown attached to.

— Most of the others liked Earth as well. You especially. You were fascinated by its rich history and its numerous organic creatures. It was far more diverse than Cybertron, you hadn’t seen a single planet with so many unique varieties of creatures. More specifically, you grew really fond of Earth’s prehistoric creatures.

— Which is the main reason as to why you felt so enthralled when you first met Grimlock. A cybertronian(?) that was a Tyrannosaurus, you’d read quite a bit on the mighty creature. It was like a dream come true for you in a way given you were about 66 million years too late to see them. it was a nightmare for Optimus who kept getting his skid plate handed to him.

“Me, Grimlock, will crush puny autobots!” His roar shook everything around him. Honestly, you didn’t want to hurt him, he was WAY too cool to get terminated and it's not like you could really do anything against him in the first place. Thankfully, despite how ruthless the T. Rex seemed, you thought that maybe you could reason with him. The fighting against the Dinobots is causing some collateral damage and that human named Fanzone might pop one of his 'blood vessels'.

“But why would you want to do that, Grimlock!?” You shout out to him. Something deep down in your spark told you that maybe, just maybe, Grimlock could be reasoned with. He was a sentient being after all and he did possess some kind of intelligence.

Grimlock turned his snout and walked towards you. The whiplash from his erratic change of movement causes his tail to swing and it swats Optimus back into the stratosphere for the fourth time this solar cycle. He lands with a loud crash, thumping onto the floor backside first and his back shooting up from the pain. Ouch. But currently, you cant bring yourself to focus on Optimus as the gears in your helm turn to somehow get this Bot to calm down.

“Because, puny Autobot...” Grimlock paused, he almost looked confused. “Because, Me, Grimlock… Uhm… Uhhhh…” Grimlock stopped moving and pondered for a second. It was evident he was not very smart and you couldn’t help but frown slightly out of a strange sdndd of concern. This Grimlock character didn’t seem to have any malicious intent. Was he running on instinct? Or... was someone controlling him? If so who? Grimlock certainly didn't look like a criminal mastermind and he most definitely didn't just spawn out of Earth's soil.

Within the time you and the Dinobot took to think, Prowl lunged forward onto Grimlock. “Thanks for distracting him!” This wasn’t what you intended. Prowl tried to throw an attack onto Grimlock only for him to...

— HOLY SCRAP HE CAN BREATHE FIRE. Can this bot get any cooler? Honestly, you were way more mesmerised by him than you should be at this point at this point. He's dangerous but you can't help but marvel at his abilities.

— After your little skirmish with the Dinobots, Commissioner Fanzone presented the idea of melting down the Dinobot for extra parts and that made your spark drop. That was too harsh! For all you know, they were programmed yesterday! Of course they wouldn't understand collateral damage yet. Thankfully, you weren’t the only one who thought Fanzone’s decision was too harsh. Prowl felt bad for them too. Even if Prowl got a few burns here and there...

— So, you, Prowl and Bulkhead secretly team up to save the Dinobots. It was against Optimus’s orders but you didn't care, Optimus could go ahead and suck your shiny metallic-

“Why puny Autobots saving me, Grimlock and Dinobots?” He inquired, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic lack of confidence. Honestly, Grimlock was surprised that you guys were willing to save him and his friends. The King is confused even. Why would you do such a thing even after all the damage he's caused? Even after he nearly sent you and your friends to a long trip to Ratchet's?

You thought for a second, careful about your words.

“Well, cause we care about you! And I personally think that you’re really cool, Grimlock. Besides, I don't think you’re just some mindless brute. ” You replied, whispering out the last part to make sure that Prowl and Bulkhead couldn’t hear you. He might’ve not been bipedal (or so you thought) but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a mecha like you. The thought of being cared for, the thought of being seen as cool was all unfamiliar to the Dinobot— He didn't exactly spend a lot of time on his emotions after being made by the funny looking helm but...

You thought he was cool? And you cared?

Grimlock was speechless, he didn't know what to say or have any idea on what would even be appropriate to say in such a situation. He felt something in his power core, something… that he could only describe as nice. Your words kept ringing in his head but in a pleasant manner. Like a song he didn't want to turn down. Meanwhile you look over to Prowl and Bulkhead, the coast was clear and you lean closer to Grimlock.

“Hey, is it alright if I visit you guys more often?” You ask in secret with a hushed tone, Prowl and Bulkhead seemed to be engaged in some conversation. You didn’t want either of them hearing this knowing they'd reprove.

Grimlock tilted his head slightly and thought about it for a second, contemplating your words and considering it heavily.

“Of course, puny Autobots can visit Grimlock and Dinobots anytime.” He replied in a low, almost soft tone, as if he was somewhat uncertain but willing to give it a try. You couldn’t really make it out as his helm was that of a T-Rex but you swore you saw a smile.

— You had been visiting Grimlock and the gang regularly after missions. None of the other crew was aware of your friendship with Grimlock, Swoop and Sludge. You just told Optimus that you were ‘exploring’, thankfully, the Prime bought it since he's known you to be the curious type but never the reckless kind.

— But Prowl didn’t. Prowl knew damn well what you were doing. He just didn’t want to interfere. It wasn’t hurting anyone so he really didn’t see any reason for interference. However, Prowl was growing concerned about the extensive amount of time you spent on Dinobot Island. And he did often privately vocalise his concerns.

— You were the first to see Grimlock’s bipedal form! This confirmed your previous theory that they might be of Cybertronian descent. However, their biologies remained a mystery considering their frames weren’t built with the usual minerals and metals Cybertronians were made out of. Maybe they were the result of Sari’s Allspark key? Either way, it narrowed the possibilities. You have a datapad dedicated to figuring out the origins of the Dinobots.

— You taught Grimlock, Swoop and Sludge about Cybertron and how you were from there. You told them stories that they greatly enjoyed. Grimlock loves your stories and hearing about your life. You told him what a spark was, some of the things you told him did confuse him but he would just nod and pretend to understand while the other two look at you blankly.

— After two or three days, Grimlock will eventually reach the grimm conclusion [ba-dum tiss] that he wants to be with you after you told him what romance is and what love was. He'd always felt it but never knew how to label it. But his pride makes him feel embarrassed that a puny, tiny Autobot wiggled their way into his spark.

— Grimlock prefers to hang out with you in his T. Rex as it allows him to carry you on his back as he roams around the island and talk. Scaring the local wildlife and laughing at the way they run away while you glare at him for a moment. He doesn’t get why you don't find it funny!

— Now, Grimlock isn’t the best conversationalist out there but he is a good listener. He will listen and give his own commentary. Sometimes you rant about Bumblebee being stupid or how you fucked up. He honestly doesn’t have much to say as he’s confined to Dinobot island, nothing’s really going on in his life.

— Grimlock can be a real asshole. He will tease and joke about you, this happens mostly because he doesn’t get how to express love. Grimlock gained sentience like three days ago, give him a break. He really isn’t ready for such complex emotions, he’s brutally blunt and doesn’t usually care how blunt he is. So he will end up coming off as insensitive. He's new to this relationship stuff!

— He will try to find some other way to annoy you if you tell him that his teasing is annoying or if you don’t like it. Grimlock is smug.

— The second he sees your drooping expression in response to his words of mockery, he will freeze. Grimlock was just being playful! He didn’t mean to make you sad! He doesn't understand the weight of his words and he's still new to empathy.

— Grimlock will laugh at your fuck ups. He will laugh at anyone and everyone’s fuck ups. You’re no exception unfortunately. Grimlock would fearlessly laugh in the face of Primus without any hesitation. He’s just that kind of bot. He does not give a fuck. He doesn’t know how to hold back a laugh either

— It should be noted that his sense of humor can be bubbled down to Tom and Jerry or Oggy And The Cockroaches. He's immature. People accidentally hurting themselves, childish irony and bad puns make him laugh out loud. He would watch children's cartoons and laugh at them but then immediately smolder and stop laughing when Sari tells him that they're for children. Now he doesn't want to watch them. He cannot fathom higher forms of comedy like sarcasm, he will try to get it but it just doesn't tickle his funny bone..

— He’s a tsundere. Big fucking tsundere. But instead of blushing like an anime girl, Grim just grunts and his voice goes in a slightly higher pitch. He does get all nervous like an anime girl though. You can see him blush slightly if you look really closely onto his faceplates when he’s in his bipedal form, what really gives it away is his click of his cooling fans and the not so subtle steam from his vents.

— Despite his tsundere nature, Grimlock will do whatever you want him to. Grimlock is a simp (we saw that in the Blackarachnia ep), no questions asked. He will not hesitate to do whatever you want him to. Especially if he’s fallen for you hard.

— If you tease him back, he will pout and protest. Won’t admit it but he likes being commanded around by you. Grimlock can be really adorable without ever realizing it. Wait. Did you call him… adorable? Are you falling for a fragging metal dinosaur? Tch. Tch. Tch. What would the others think?

— The first sign that shows that Grimlock is deeply in love with you, is that he stops referring to you as ‘puny Autobot’ or by your alt. mode with robot as a suffix but rather by your name. 'Car robot', 'truck robot', 'jet robot'... depends on your alternate mode but he will stop calling you that.

— Grimlock, unlike Predaking, has no restraint when it comes to jealousy. He will openly fling himself onto Swoop or Sludge if they are taking too much of your time and attention away from Grimlock. You’re unaware that the conflict is because of you, you just think that Grimlock has some weird spontaneous battle instinct. You look clueless and confused, trying your best to diffuse the situation if it's getting out of hand. You wouldn’t be surprised, Grimlock and the others do have play-fights with each other. And when they do, you always cheer for Grim

— He hates that you can’t spend all the time you have with Grimlock here on Dinobot island. Grimlock desperately wants to spend more time with you. he kinda wishes that you were also a Dinobot, he hates knowing that you spend more time with the others.

— Sludge and Swoop are completely aware of Grim’s huge crush on you but they shut up about it knowing that Grimlock would throw them into the sea if they ever revealed it. But they do tease him. A lot. It would go like "Hey, [name] ! Did you know that Grim has a-" *ding* *ding*, Grimlock has KOed the opponent!. Flying punch to their faceplates in his bipedal.

— You were also quite attached to Grimlock which is why, when you ventured to the island and saw Meltdown, you quickly informed Prowl all panicked.

— Grimlock seethes with jealousy knowing that you’re under the command of Optimus and not him. He constantly tries to put up displays of strength by lifting up stuff like boulders or heavy weighing items or heck, you to show you how much cooler he is than Optimus. Honestly, he just hates Optimus. Optimus does not understand why Grimlock dislikes him so much when the two meet up once again because of Meltdown. Once Meltdown was defeated, an terribly embarrassing exchange of words took place.

“Listen, Grimlock, I don't understand why you don’t like me. If it's about-” Grimlock rudely cuts off a stern and angry Optimus. “No! Me, Grimlock don’t like you not because you put Grimlock and friends into cement!” He snarled, irritated. Grimlock was easily annoyed and the way Prime was so persistent on an answer bothered him. You, Prowl, Sentinel and the rest of the Dinobots went silent as all of you watched this exchange.

The tension withered away as awkwardness crept into the empty space left for words as the T. Rex figured out what to say next, a hint of vulnerability as he looked down, trying to articulate what was on his processor. Grimlock switched to his bipedal form, facing away from you and Optimus. Optimus looked confused, very confused. He was almost certain that was the reason.

“Well, then… Why do you hate me?”

Grimlock grumbles something, incomprehensible to Optimus which makes Optimus' temper flare, he's in a bad mood and the Prime only just wants to resolve this mystery dispute he has with Grimlock and he doesn't even have the slightest clue over what Grimlock is being so aggressive over. “Come on, Grimlock! I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what’s wrong!” He exclaimed with a hint of exasperation, the Prime was extremely frustrated. Optimus wanted to right whatever wrongs he did to Grimlock, he’s certain that Grimlock could prove to be a powerful and useful ally, given how he helped out with tackling Metldown. Only if he weren’t such a difficult mech!

“You have what Grimlock wants.” He speaks, hesitant. His tone was low and uncharacteristically soft, almost as if he was embarrassed.

”Well, what do you want?” Optimus asks, completely dumbfounded now. He questioned if Grimlock even had the capacity to have interests other than wrecking things and fighting. What could he possibly have that Grimlock would want? Was it oil? Energon?

“Grimlock wants… Grimlock likes…” He’s simply too embarrassed to say it out loud, his optics fixated on the ground as if he was some overgrown sparkling. He sighs and lifts a single digit, pointing at you. Helm to the floor as his faceplates are practically on fire, steam puffing from his vents as his dermas are pursed into a thin line.

“...”

“Pfft- reall- OW.” Prowl bonked Sentinel’s head.

— After the whole extremely awkward confession, Optimus agreed to let you hang out more often on Dinobot Island but now the aura between you and Grimlock is also extremely awkward. Bumblebee is teasing you. Sentinel on the other hand thinks its pathetic, he isn’t even a proper Cybertronian for Primus’ sake. Prowl isn't sure how to feel and Bulkhead is sort of supportive? He thinks it's sweet.

You and Grimlock were sitting on the floor, Grimlock was in his bipedal form with his legs crossed, you sat in a similar posture next to him, both of your optics averted from one another as you stare into the grassy ground below you.

“…” Grimlock began as he leaned close towards you. “Me, Grimlock, am sorry for…”

You cut him off as you hesitantly turn towards him. “You don’t need to be sorry for anything, Grim.”

You cupped his helm between your servos and he's frozen, you've never really touched him so tenderly but he immediately loves it. “I… kinda like you too.” You muttered out with embarrassment, your own faceplates on fire as you look away for a moment.

Grimlock felt like the happiest mech alive at that moment, his faceplates flushed and his jaw slightly parted as his optics went wide, of course you wouldn’t notice his optics due to his visor. You know what, maybe truck robot isn’t so bad after all.

— Grimlock lets you hold his flame sword but he’s extremely cautious about the whole thing to make sure that his sword doesn’t even bring the slightest harm to you. Grimlock doesn't want you hurt. He cares deeply about you.

— Grimlock is the type of guy to try and fight the sun if you start complaining about how hot it is. He might not look like it but he’s willing to go across the universe for you.

— One time, you caressed his helm when he was in bipedal form and his head literally caught on fire. You were extremely concerned after that. Grimlock had to convince you that it was a natural response to affectionate touch.

— The thing Grimlock likes the most about you is the way that you treat him. Everyone else treats him like an idiot, even his fellow Dinobots sometimes but you don’t see him as a brainless brute. You treat him with patience and respect and that makes him swoon.

— He will give you rides on his back in T. Rex mode.

— Grimlock is a huge cuddle bug. He craves your physical touch and affection and attention constantly. Grimlock can be real childish some(most)times.

— If you won’t give him the attention he so desperately craves for, he will just loom over you and follow you around in his alt. mode until you do. He’s like a puppy but a really stubborn one. He demands your attention. He will even swoop you up into his servos at one point with pleading optics.

— If you threw something, Grimlock will fetch it for you out of pure impulse. Running after it in his T Rex alternate and walking back to you in bipedal with the item in his servos. As I mentioned before, he’s like an over-grown puppy that can breathe fire.

—When it comes to romance, Grimlock is probably one of the most coy mechs out there. Grimlock tries to be stoic but it doesn’t work, he falls apart fast. Simplest words of affection like “I love you.” or “I missed you.” is enough for him to go from confident to shy in an instant. Interfacing would probably kill him from embarrassment.

— But once he gets used to your words (which he will at some point), he will just be incredibly smug about it. Like you missed him? Hah! Of course you would! He's the Grimlock. There's a lot to miss about him.

— Grimlock adores rubs, neck scratches and just being caressed in any way. He hates getting tickled though. Grimlock is really ticklish and you have used that to your advantage on multiple occasions.

— Grimlock loves it when you fawn over how cool he is and he will get jealous of whoever else you find really cool, the poor bots that are on your ‘cool people’ list are the sworn enemies of Grimlock. They are his tackling practice dummies.

— P r a i s e t h e m i g h t y G r i m l o c k. Feed his ego and tell him how amazing he is. He will be cocky afterwards so brace yourself for the consequences. The other dinobots will damn you for that because now they have to put up with an even more ego inflated Grimlock.

— He might not say it outright but he’s actually sort of embarrassed at his way of speech. Grimlock just doesn’t know how to speak outside of in third person and he won’t show it but he’s sort of insecure about it. He’s insecure about lots of things and he needs your constant reassurance. Grimlock is well aware that everyone thinks that he’s just a big dumb brute and he doesn’t want you of all people to think so about him. He usually doesn’t care about what other’s think but what you think means the world to him.

— He’s a sucker for headpats.

— Since he can breathe fire, sometimes he takes the liberty of being a walking talking heater. You rest on his chassis, face against his chest as he warms himself up and the two of you drift off into recharge.

— He will get all flustered over the smallest bits of affection. Yes, even hand-holding. Holding each other’s servos is probably his favourite thing to do with you. Yours are very nice to hold onto and he likes how it feels to have your digits intertwined. He loves you servos in general because you use them to touch him.

— One time, you smothered Grimlock’s faceplates in kisses while you sat on his lap and his whole frame went rigid. He swore that he almost passed out from overheating. The confident leader of the Dinobots turned into a stuttering mess. Just don’t do it in front of the others... please.

— Grimlock pretends to hate pet names but he actually kind of likes them. Its a love-hate relationship.

— Grimlock loves it when you bring back things for him from your missions. He revels knowing the fact that he’s always on your mind. His favourite things you bring back for him are probably the weird dinosaur keychains. Grimlock is flattered that the humans make merchandising of him and it sort of makes him more chill around humans.

— Now, the love of his life is an Autobot who’s here on Earth to take care of the Decepticon pest so naturally you have to engage in the field and he won’t say it but he’s worried. You’re so puny and small... the Decepticons are so much more deadly! He knew that especially since Megatron basically made him. Speaking of which, you came to learn you were dating the enemy’s technical ‘son’. You didn’t know how to feel about that.

— Speaking of Decepticons, he will without hesitation tackle down a Decepticon if they are a treat to your life in any way whatsoever with Swoop and Snarl joining in. They will literally jump the Decepticon which ends up giving the rest of you time to prepare yourselves.

— Grimlock will gladly accompany you on a mission if you ask him to tag along. Him falling for you has made him far more complacent with the Autobots as a whole so Optimus is a bit more approving of your relationship. You're like Cybertron's ambassador to Dinobot island.

— You had to introduce him and the rest of the Dinobots to hygiene. Like, none of them cleaned themselves until you came along.

— He really really really loves you, he’s your number one simp and fanboy. If anyone insults or makes jokes about you when he’s around, he will start a fight. Only Grimlock is allowed to tease you. Bumblebee once joked about how shitty your aim was when Grimlock was present and Grimlock began rambling on in grammatically broken sentences that would’ve made any English teacher’s head explode about how amazing you are then and there. Anime fans can’t compare to the way he defends you from such horrendous accusations.

— You’re probably the only person who’s able to make Grimlock form a sentence without using less than fifteen words.

— Grimlock love love love loves when you come to him for protection from something. He loves knowing that you rely on him and yes, he will be smug about it. He’s just like that.

— In private, he will be slightly bolder and give you soft chaste kisses on your faceplates.

— Rest of the crew teases the fuck out of the two of you, except Ratchet. Sentinel is on your case 24/7 and Optimus… doesn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, your relationship is cute and helps repair his and Grimlock’s weird enemy-friendship but on the other hand… It's Grimlock. He’s like the most arrogant mech the Prime has ever met. Bumblebee calls you a ‘Xenophile’ as a joke while Sari teases you, asking you where your dinosaur boyfriend is (you had to do research to understand what a boyfriend was). Prowl is like 'i know what kind of bot you are' with a knowing smile and Bulkhead is lowkey very chill about it, he's given you his thumbs-up.

— This mech is willing to give you his life. He really loves and cherishes you. Grimlock is a good boyfriend. For a ruthless fighting machine. Golden retriever but really possessive.

also, if it does interest anyone, a friend of mine decided to use these HCs to make a fanfic series on ao3! please check it out, it's titled Dino Lover!

[azlrse]

➳ branded (a yandere d-16/megatron x cybertronian!gn!reader oneshot)

a/n: had a few hours of spare time and i gotta post this before i disappear again

cw: yandere themes, non-consensual branding, tf!one spoilers, fluff to angst, reader has pain receptors and it's kinda weak eeeee, i miss d-16 sm :crii

your friends knew you had this huge crush on a certain bot who had the same occupation as you. the way he talks about his idol, the way he looks after the others and you loved how much he checks up on you, reminding yourself to take good care of your spark since both of your occupation as miners is dangerous. the same way how much danger cybertronians were without energon.

you will never forget how shocked he acted when you first confessed your feelings for d-16 after learning you had this huge crush on him for quite sometime. You became quite happy and excited when he confessed that he felt the same way, adoring how you patched him up after he was injured in the mines and the way you became angry (in an affectionate way) for becoming wreck less (same goes for orion).

in d-16's eyes, you are an embodiment of his type of conjunx endura. aside from talking about megatronous prime, he constantly talks about his crush on this particular bot and had quite a temper. orion just laughed wholeheartedly and told his friend that he is not just having a crush but is in love with you. it was excruciating to say the least that two of his friends are quite oblivious to their antics and affectionate gesture.

it's not surprising from orion's reaction when you told him about d-16 being your boyfriend. he is proud that the both of you became each other's conjunx endura and prayed to primus that your relationship with him will provide the both of you with fulfillment, happiness and so much love.

you wished that so-called happiness lasted for an eternity, but it wasn't long when you and the entire miners knew about d-16's retribution against all types of authority, implying that he will lead all of your kind into a future he in visioned for himself. that wasn't until he was reprimanded by orion, now optimus, and banished him from iocon city. he was bewildered and looks at you for affirmation that he didn't do anything wrong. sad eyes gazed upon him as you looked away in sadness for what he had done.

megatron looks at you in disbelief, even felt betrayed that not only his best friend became a prime and betrayed him, but also you, his conjunx endura, turned you back against him.

'i will come back for you, (m/c)..' he muttered to himself as he and the other high guards falls back and went to the surface, didn't even turned his back to say good bye to you and you only remembered the way his bright red eyes looked at you and orion/optimus sharply and in anger.

as his figure became smaller and smaller, you felt your tears falling from your cheeks, holding back a sob as you stared at your junxie's figure became smaller until you saw nothing but the bright lights above. turning your back against orion, sobs began to escape from your throat as you felt elita's hand comforting you, reassuring you that d-16's gonna be okay and let him pursue his own path.

so you waited...

and waited...

and waited....

on the same spot he left you on the day he turned his back against optimus himself. many of your friends even checked on your well-being, became even more worried as you waited for days, weeks, even months for him to come back. you wished that he would return to you, abandoning his ideology that freedom and tyranny are just the same concept.

cycles went by and hope has diminished for your junxie to come back. you slowly moved on from him and even meeting other cybertronians, becoming friends with them and slowly discovering your new vehicle mode (in which you slowly became accustomed).

that wasn't until an attack broke out, screams echoed on each and every street as the seekers laughed maniacally when they destroyed everything they see; the streets, buildings, even putting the lives its citizens in danger. just like the others, you ran for your life, running towards the archives and screamed for optimus' help when a small boulder came crashing on your direction and felt a sharp pain on your head before everything goes dark.

but, wasn't that bee's voice you've just heard?? why is he screaming for your name?? and who's carrying you away??

you hoped that it's just ratchet carrying you to safety and aiding your wounds.

. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙���✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

fear was just a concept, a state of one's vulnerability when encountering their worst nightmare in front of your eyes. yours, however, is seeing him for the first time and felt true fear when his red eyes gazed upon your shaking form as soundwave and shockwave held both of your arms. you were trying to escape after you woke up from your slumber as you felt a throbbing pain on the side of your head and being chased around, only for you to be caught by them.

"t-there's been a mistake! i need to go home!" eyes of the decepticons stared at you like some kind of weakling. you begin to thrash around, trying to loosen the grip of the two cons who held you tightly. no luck, for they are far too strong for you. the tyrant didn't say anything but brought in something that made your eyes widen in fear.

"no..."

it's a branding iron with some kind of weird insignia, a symbol that soon everyone would fear. the way the smoke danced around the thick air makes your skin crawl as the iron moves closer and closer to you.

"NO!! I WON'T HAVE IT!! NOO!!" you screamed as you panic around, thrashing even harder in hopes that it would loosen the grip and giving you the time to escape this so-called nightmare. you will never forget how hard he pressed that iron against your chest, the way it sizzled and smoked when it comes in contact with your chest as the pain becomes even more unpleasant and unbearable to deal with. he didn't say much but watched in glee, seeing that insignia on your chest felt like you came back to him as your eyes began to slowly close due to how tired you felt, how you felt empty and numb from all of the ordeals you just went through.

your tears won't replace the bot you once loved. no matter much how much you screamed, you begged for him to let you go back to iacon city, how much you valued your freedom since you've gotten your t-cog back, he just won't let you go. even if he presses the hot branding iron into your chest as soundwave and shockwave held your arms as you thrash around, kicked your legs and screamed on how much the heat painfully branded your chest.

it's painful, just as how your throat burns from all the screaming and pleading for your own freedom being stripped down. as the new tyrant carried you away like some type of princess and away from the eyes of his new followers, sleeping away from the painful and traumatizing ordeal you just went through. he looked at you, soft eyes now replacing the hard and sadistic look he just exhibited moments ago as he cradled your body close to him. a small, chaste kiss he placed at the top of your head as he murmured after the kiss;

"i finally had you back, my conjunx."

and he plans on never letting you go again.

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

[genyawritesshizz]

Promotion - Sentinel Prime X Reader

Spending your days endlessly mining energon you yearned to one day be promoted. To finally free yourself from the frame aching work of the mines. Yet when you catch the optics of the Sentinel Prime, that promotion may come at a terrible cost, maybe you should have read the fine print.

Tbh it’s very little plot mostly just smut.

18+ ONLY

IVE NEVER WRITTEN FOR TRANSFORMERS NOR HAVE I READ MUCH FIC OF IT BUT I TRIED TO GET THE TERMS RIGHT BUT YA KNOW, ITS A LOT.

Possible part 2, we’ll see how this does.

WARNING: Dubious consent, emotional manipulation, Power Imbalance, (TBH Sentinel is a walking red flag), Sexual Coercion, Size kink, SMUT, Cybertronian reader,

This is essentially just robot porn I'm sorry to all my anime followers :(

The first time Sentinel Prime had set his optics on you he knew, much to his initial disgust, he wanted you. 

A miner. 

Of all the femme’s at his disposal the one that at last managed to catch his gaze was a cogless, bottom level, miner. 

“That thing?” With a snarled lip and multiple sets of trailing skeptical eyes, Airachnid's own revulsion was evident. Far down below the balcony on which they stood, walking the bustling city streets you at last returned to his hungry gaze. 

“Unfortunately so.”

Primus, what an honor it was to be within the presence of Cybertrons protector, the bot who single handedly protected all Cybertronians from the Quintessons; Sentinel Prime. 

After being approached by Arachnid and ordered to follow her you had initially feared you had broken an unknown protocol, resulting in a demotion. Yet much to your shock within the gold columned building you had been led to he was there.

The look of pure admiration within your optics as you stared up to him in awe coupled with the now quiet whir of your internal fans as your spark raced within his mere presence fed his already raging primal desire.

Such blind naivety.

"Walk with me. I’d like to discuss something important." His tone was warm but carried a weight of authority. One you could not help but blindly follow. 

The two of you stroll through the empty corridors, arachnid standing guard just outside of its entrance.

“Tell me, have you always felt bound to the mines? Or have you ever imagined something greater for yourself?" You shift, pace faltering a smidge, taken aback by his directness. You're proud of your work as a miner but can’t deny that you’ve thought about rising above this level.

"The mines are… Well, they’re home. I have my friends down there. But I’ve always wanted to do more…to make a real difference for Cybertron." 

Sentinel nods, his optics narrowing slightly. Searing blue scanned from the top of your dull paint chipped helm to your transfixed gaze, (noting how you subconsciously averted it away from him when noticing his search), down to your chin.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, signaling his satisfaction in finding whatever he had hunted for. 

Vulnerability suited you well.

"I could see that. You carry yourself with a strength that is rare, even among the most seasoned warriors." 

His confident stride deviates him closer to you and he lowers his voice just a touch. 

"Cybertron needs warriors with your spirit. And not just in the mines. In places where real change can be forged." 

His words spark something in you. Your gaze sharpened, instantly locking with his, the once thick humility gives way to a flicker of pride. 

‘Is he going to promote me?’ You hopefully thought. You had been working your frame down to the wire for the last few rotations in hopes of this.

Sentinel picks up the change in demeanor immediately. Before continuing his sweet talk, he comes to a complete stop and turns towards you.

His frame is significantly larger than yours, as to be expected when comparing a cogless to a Prime.

Though, the way he truly towered over you left you feeling far weaker than usual as he had to bend down significantly to reach optic level with you.

"Too often, talents like yours go overlooked down there. Others might not see it, but I do. Imagine if you were to rise up, to stand among those who shape Cybertron’s future. Those who ensure our planet’s place as the greatest in the galaxy." With each passing word he had leaned closer, faceplate now mere centimeters from yours.

Your spark fluttered. 

His venting flowed deliciously warm against your intake.

Proximity feedback signals fired on high and energon lines pumped furiously fast. 

Yet despite your system's shock at his actions, you could not look nor move away.

“You really think… I could be that?”

A set of servos planted themself around your lower chassis, their span long enough to completely wrap around you. 

Your servers struggled to process exactly what was happening, focusing solely on the swirling lights of blue that threatened to swallow you whole.

“I know you can.”

The digits ensnaring your waist tightened, pulling you flush against his wide frame. 

His helm delved lower, denta lightly nipping at the sensitive wires between the spaces of your minimal plating. 

The second you beeped in surprise then melted into his embrace, helm craning to the side allowing him further access, he knew once again. 

You were not going anywhere. 

But then again, why would you want to?

When your protector was so kind enough to show you, a nobody, such special affection. 

Never had you anticipated that you would ever find yourself within a Primes personal suite yet here you were. Sprawled out atop a luxurious berth, hidden away from the rest of Iacon city, with desires you had never even thought to dream of coming true.

Your gracious leader's frame was reduced to a hunched, yet still ever imposing, form as he kneels between your legs. Your modesty paneling had long since been retracted, revealing your array to his hungry gaze, and allowing you to relish in all the new sensations your Prime was bestowing upon you.

No, in all your cycles you had never found the desire to fragbond with someone. Yet now as Sentinel Prime’s silver glossa ravenously glides through the throbbing mesh of your valve and mouthpiece occasionally latching onto your external node you cannot believe your hesitancy for such pleasures. 

To think you had gone for so long without.

Not to worry, never again shall you ever have to suffer such a fate.

It is extremely out of character for Sentinel to give his partner's pleasure this way or in any way/to care about it. 

Normally he wastes no time in pleasuring others, he was a busy man after all. Instead focusing solely on his own release within others bodies then disposing of them.

But something about having you pinned beneath one of his arms, the other easily reaching over your head to hold your wrists down, the way you cried out for him, your Prime, and to be completely at his mercy…It has his spike twitching beneath his own paneling.

Savagely he feasts upon your now swollen valve, thick glossa entering your spasming opening, nose buried atop your external node.

“M-my, oh Primus! - My Prime I-” You were completely unfamiliar with the feeling boiling inside you, it felt as though a coil was winding. Each intrusion of his glossa only pulled it tighter.

“That’s right, say my name.” A smug smirk tugged itself into the corners of his faceplate before he delved back where you so desperately wanted him. 

You looked and sounded both pathetic and desperate.

He loved it.

“Sentinel!”

Overloading into the mouth of said mech was absolutely euphoric.

Though despite your high, he was left utterly displeased to hear you leave off the Prime in your cry.

He had earned that title.

It was his name.

You would learn the error of your mistake soon.

He did not ask permission to continue. 

Standing up from his crouched position, the grip that once held you down now flipped you onto your chest plate and dragged you towards the edge of his berth, allowing your legs to dangle off the edge.

Even on the tips your pedes you would still not touch the golden floor beneath.

Positioning your aft up into an arch he at last retracted his paneling, allowing his spike to spring free. 

Central processor still short circuiting under the throws of overloading, you did not even notice the shift in position.

Once your intake had returned to normal your mind followed suit, catching up to the reality of what was happening.

Yet it was too late to protest as something sickeningly thick prodded at your valve's still quivering entrance.

It felt like far too much.

Trying to squirm away from it you're met with a dark chuckle and thick digits atop your shoulder, easily pulling you back down into position.

“Where do you think you're going? We're just getting started sweetspark”

The moment the head of his spike entered, you felt an immediate sense of dread wash over and a cold shiver through your struts. 

“Too big...” Your vocalizer had barely returned, causing the whine to sound utterly pitiful, drowned in static and served only to feed Sentinel's ego.

“Hm? What's that?” Leaning over your form, faceplate centimeters away from your audio receptors, steam rolled with his words; fogging over the heaving metal of your shoulder plates.

“Frag…You-You’re too big.”

“Oh, do you want me to stop?” His tone was high in pitch and laced with manipulation. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint your Prime now would you?” 

A strangled whimper and a shake of your head ‘no’ gave little confirmation to his taunt in ‘permitting’ him to keep going, not that he cared whichever direction your response led. 

Even if you wanted to stop, you had no power to break away from him.

A deep, dominating, chuckle bubbled within his chest plate. “I thought not. You’re serving me, a great honor really.”

It felt like being pried open, the way his spike speared into your clamping valve was utterly painful. 

Despite your cries you attempted to stay still as the gold winged Prime behind you continued to push further. 

Each half centimeter only served to strengthen the burn.

Halfway in you had closed your optics, denta plates gritted tightly shut. 

“Take it all, I know you can.”

The same four words that once filled you with hope now filled you with burning heat.

You will take what he is so graciously giving you. 

Finally, after what felt like eternity, his entire spike was successfully sheathed inside. 

Though this was just the beginning.

“So tight,” Your body was clamped around the intruder in a vise grip. Desperately begging for it to be removed. “So small.”

His pace was brutally fast. The servos on your shoulder and hip kept you from escaping or sliding too far away from his attack. 

Surprisingly, after a few klicks, the tight inner calipers of your valve slowly loosened. His spike, now slathered in a combination of fluids, began sliding without much resistance. 

At last, a few surges of pleasure coursed through your system. 

Soon both of you were grunting, occasionally moaning. Though your sounds far outnumbered his. 

Your servos clenched into the smooth bedding atop his berth, surely tearing the fabric though in this moment neither of you cared. However it was something he would be sure to punish you for later. 

“You're mine, little miner.” His hips pistoned faster, slamming against your aft, surely to leave you sore. “All Mine.”

In response all you could do was hold on tighter, moaning louder with each intense slam.

“I’ll. never. let. you. go.” Each word sent another wicked surge into your swollen valve.

Blind sighted by the throes of pleasure bordering on overstimulation his words simply did not translate in your faltering audio receptors.

Though he meant every bit of it.

Helm falling back and a loud moan echoing throughout the gold-plated room, his overload blazed hot through his system. Filling your already stuffed valve to the brim with his transfluid.

Fans whirling on high, neither of you moved from your conjoined position for a few klicks.

After he's regained his senses fully, he removes himself from your valve, being sure to marvel at his work of completely ruining your once virgin body with a devilish smirk. Admiring the way his bright blue transfluid seeped from your still clenching valve.

Though this will be far from the last time he sees you like this.

With wobbling arms, you attempted to rise, though as you began to lift yourself up a large servos pushed you back down.

"We're not done."

True to his word, you had earned a promotion.

Fitted with only the finest armor paneling and a fresh coat of paint you had earned yourself the pristine position of his pet.  

A position you held with utmost dignity, after all you were serving your Prime.

[woradat]

HALL OF RECORD

SUMMARY – once he was chief advisor, once you were archivist. Now they are not

PAIRING – sentinel prime x reader

NOTE – I read this fanfic and oh my god, the concept is so awesome?? I really couldn't help but have to write this one out after I finish reading

—

“You always talk this much?”

“Only when I’m not being appreciated properly”

—

The restricted archives of the Hall of Records didn’t have doors

Instead, a shimmering energy curtain flickered in the threshold—neither entirely solid nor passable without resistance. It hummed faintly, a curtain of containment and silence, casting the interior in a calm, undisturbed glow

Inside, You was standing at the center of a semi-circular array of holographic control panels. The light from them cast soft reflections across your plating, washing your frame in gentle hues of blue and gold. Your optics were narrowed, fingers dancing across the controls as lines of Proto-Cybertronian text hovered and rotated before being carefully sorted into branching timelines. Names, eras, battles—entries from the Age of Origins that most bots only heard of in myth or prayer—floated across the air in spectral luminescence

You were so focused you didn’t notice the energy curtain shift. Didn’t hear the quiet approach of footsteps echoing off the polished floor outside. But you did hear him “It’s so quiet in here, I half-suspected you'd unplugged the whole room just to keep people like me out”

That voice. Smooth as always, laced with that specific flavor of smugness only one bot had perfected into an artform. You didn’t turn around, just kept your optics on the console

A voice followed. Predictable as clockwork “You know, if you're trying to make this place uninviting, you're doing an excellent job. It feels like a tomb in here"

“Then do us both a favor and leave the tomb” You tapped a glyph to dismiss a particularly long-winded transcript, expression unreadable – the tone was dry as sand

The kind that scraped slightly on its way out

“Oh, temping” Sentinel replied easily, his silhouette now visible beyond the flickering field. He stepped closer, the energy parting around him in a faint shimmer. Every movement he made was deliberate—graceful in a way that suggested performance, not necessity. His arms folded behind his back as he glanced around, as if pretending to study the room when it was obvious who had his attention

“but I’m waiting for Alpha Trion. He told me to collect a report from you” He paused, letting silence settle, then added in a quieter, almost conspiratorial tone “Though... I suspect he meant for me to wait. Probably figured you wouldn’t hand anything over unless someone stood here breathing down your neck”

You sighed—long and theatrical—and flicked a glowing folder through the air toward him. It hovered just beyond arm’s reach, daring him to step through the last layer of distance

“Fine. Take it” But instead of grabbing it, Sentinel stepped into the room. Through the field. Through the silence. He walked with the sort of casual confidence that suggested he was used to testing boundaries—and getting away with it

Your shoulders stiffened “I said—”

“I heard you”

He smiled that smile—the one that never reached his optics but somehow always reached your nerves

“I just had to wonder... Do you archivists actually read all this? Or is the dramatic lighting part of the job description?”

That made you turn

You pivoted slowly, lifting your gaze with the kind of patient menace that suggested this was not the first time you’d had to deal with him while resisting the urge to throw a data-pad. Your voice, however, was calmer than expected — not fast, not irritated. Just a calm, evaluating glance—like a scholar measuring a hypothesis before entertaining it

“Sometimes we don’t have time”

You glanced past him at the glowing panels, timelines shifting silently in the background “But I make time. Because if we don’t read the past... the ones building the future will start thinking they were the ones who invented counting"

Something in your voice held weight. Not anger, not sarcasm—but purpose. A quiet kind of conviction that echoed beneath the words. Sentinel, for once, didn’t speak right away. His optics dipped to the floor for a breath, then lifted again—expression softer. The faint smile remained, but it was... tempered. Less a smirk, more a trace of something else. Maybe thoughtfulness

“Tell me this, then. All these hours poring over the past—do you honestly think it’ll change what happens next?”

“No. But if we don’t remember where we’ve already walked, we’ll keep falling into the same holes. Just with better boots”

“You sound like Alpha Trion when he hasn’t recharged in a week"

“That’s rich” you muttered “Coming from someone who thinks leadership is about dramatic speeches and hero poses"

"I do not pose”

"You paused in the middle of a battle to stand on a cliff"

“It was tactically advantageous!” Sentinel protested “The high ground—”

“It was sunset, Sentinel"

He made a strangled noise—equal parts indignant and caught "…Alright, maybe the lighting was good"

The silence that followed wasn’t sharp. It was still. Reflective. As if the room had paused with them—time stretching between two minds not in agreement, but in rhythm

“You know.." Sentinel finally reached out and took the data-folder from the air, fingers brushing the edge of the projection with practiced ease

“You’re probably the worst assistant Alpha Trion’s ever had…”

He turned the file over in his hand, optics skimming the surface—but he didn’t leave “ and he once told me you’re the only one who reminds him he’s not a god. I thought he meant it as an insult. Now I think it might’ve been gratitude”

You blinked. Your gaze flicked to him, surprised—but not in disbelief, didn’t say anything. But your stance eased. Just slightly. Like a string that had been pulled too tight for too long had finally loosened a notch — Sentinel turned then, walking toward the exit. He passed through the energy field, static dancing across his armor—but paused, halfway through. One foot out, one still in

“Next time, could you maybe not sound like you hate me so much? ease up on the open hostility? Some of us bruise easily” He turned his helm slightly, optics glinting with that old familiar mischief

You raised an optic ridge, mouth twitched “Is that what you’re calling your ego now?”

Sentinel chuckled—low, and far too pleased with himself “Among other things” he replied, already vanishing into the shimmer

“But good luck getting rid of me, I haunt well" with that, he disappeared through the barrier and the room was quiet again. But it wasn’t the same kind of quiet anymore. It lingered differently. Like the space between pages, before you turn to the next

Like a history book left open

Still waiting to be finished

—

The Hall of Records was supposed to be a place of reverence

KEYWORD: SUPPOSED TO

Vaulted ceilings soared high above, ribbed in glimmering alloys and etched with flowing script older than most functioning civilizations. Stained-glass data channels cast shifting patterns of cyan and violet across the marble floor, and the soft hum of ancient servers echoed like distant chanting

It was a place meant for quiet awe, for scholarly silence. It was not designed to accommodate Sentinel’s ego. Ever since he’d discovered that the shimmering energy curtain at the entrance didn’t shock intruders—merely issued a stern sonic warning in a disapproving librarian voice—Sentinel had made it his personal mission to stroll in whenever he pleased. No authorization. No warning. No respect for the rules of spatial awareness

Usually mid-shift. Always mid-sentence

“You changed the lighting layout again”

His voice preceded him, gliding in a split second before his tall frame breached the energy field with a dramatic flicker “What is this now, mood lighting for monologues?”

You didn’t look up

You sat in the central alcove, surrounded by a web of holographic panels arranged in concentric arcs, your fingers flicked through three overlapping treaty records—each with footnotes, post-conflict amendments, and suspiciously contradictory date entries. A headache wrapped in bureaucracy, topped with illegible seals "It adjusts based on optic strain”

“You wouldn’t know anything about that"

Sentinel grinned as he sauntered in, clearly unbothered. His stride was the kind that echoed on purpose—heels angled just enough to produce a satisfying click with every state

“You wound me” he said, placing a hand over his spark in mock offense

“I have very sensitive optics, thank you"

He attempted to lean against one of the translucent crystal data pylons that jutted from the floor like frozen lightning. There was a sharp snap of static, and he jerked back with a hiss as a warning glyph lit up in disapproval

Again

You didn’t even flinch

“Stop touching things” you muttered, still scanning through sub-clause annotations

“Every time you lean on one of those, it reroutes a quarter of the data flow”

“Oh?” Sentinel said, perking up like a mech who had just found a big red button labeled Do Not Press

“So this one messes with the stream?” he asked, already reaching toward a pulsing glyph marked in ominous red. A symbol that all but screamed catastrophic protocol override — You looked up, finally. Your optics widened “Sentinel—!”

Too late

His fingers brushed the glyph. There was a soft ping, a hum like an engine hiccuping, and then— All the lights dimmed to a dull amber. The panels around you flickered, rippled... and then recompiled. All at once. Every menu, every label, every command—rewritten in looping, sharp-edged characters

You stared “You rewrote the interface in Old Vosian" It wasn’t even a living language anymore. Not really. Mostly used in ceremonial inscriptions and bad poetry

Sentinel blinked, stepping back with a shrug and zero remorse “…You’re welcome?”

“GET OUT" Your’s shoulders tensed like they were physically restraining themselves from launching a stylus across the room

“Too late” Sentinel said, lowering himself into the spare console seat like he absolutely belonged there “I live here now”

He leaned back with that satisfied sigh he always made when he thought he was being hilarious. One foot kicked up against the base of the pylon. The interface flickered again, this time turning the archive’s auto-index into a rotating wheel of Vosian proverbs. You slowly, very deliberately, pinched the bridge of your nasal ridge

There was no reverence left in the Hall of Records today

Only Sentinel

The worst part wasn’t that he kept coming back It was that somehow, he always managed to bring food This time, it was a ration cube with what looked suspiciously like hand-scraped energon drizzle—artisanal he’d claimed, from a street vendor in the lower spires “Do you even like these?” you asked, eyeing the cube on their desk with wary suspicion

“Not particularly” Sentinel shrugged “But you get weird when you don’t recharge or eat”

“I don’t get weird”

“You cataloged two hundred years of war records in reverse chronological order because you were cranky”

“That was for cross-referencing purposes—!”

“You growled at a light”

Some days, Sentinel brought things that absolutely, unquestionably, did not belong in the Hall of Records

One cycle, it was a cleaning drone the size of a knee joint, scuttling around your workstation with a high-pitched hum and a sensor that kept mistaking ancient dataplaques for dust "To help you declutter” – Sentinel had said, setting the bot down with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t read a single regulation about archival containment. Another time, he’d arrived with a battered datapad in one hand and a suspicious grin on his face

“Found this under a floor panel. Probably cursed. Or priceless. Or both"

You barely looked up from indexing screen “You can’t just bring things into the archives without logging them"

“What if it’s historically significant?”

“It’s a receipt for wing wax. From a Seeker bar"

Sentinel had held it up like a trophy “Exactly! Cultural anthropology"

You pinched the bridge of your nasal ridge and sighed, the kind of sigh one developed only after multiple encounters with the same brand of madness “One day you’re going to knock over a whole building”

“Then you’ll just have to yell at me until I help you rebuild it" He said it with a smile so falsely innocent it could have been carved from polished smugness. You didn’t respond—not with words, anyway. The silence you gave him was honed, practiced, and about 80% ineffective now and yet. For all the chaos he trailed behind him—misfiled reports, rerouted light fixtures, at least one energy spike traced back to an extremely suspicious pastry— You had long stopped trying to keep him out

Somewhere between the first complaint logged and the thousandth ignored intrusion, his presence had settled into something else

Routine

A break in the quiet

A reminder that not everything needed to be orderly to be valuable

That cycle, the ambient light had dimmed to its evening hue, fading into soft golds and purples that streamed through the stained dataglass and washed over the polished floor. The archive felt half-asleep, hushed and slow – Sentinel’s voice came from the doorway, framed by the low gleam of the setting shifts “You’re staying late again"

He leaned one shoulder casually against the frame, his figure lit from behind in dusky silhouette “Trying to impress the scrolls?”

You didn’t glance up—still combing through a data tangle from the war of the Thirteen Clades, most of which seemed written in ego and coded pettiness. But your voice lacked its usual bite

“Trying to make sense of a thousand years of ego and bad handwriting" There was a pause, and then— “You’re included in that”

“Naturally”

Sentinel stepped inside

This time, no jokes, no data pylons knocked over. Just the quiet tap of his footsteps and the warm scent of a synth-brewed energon cube he placed gently beside them. You looked at the cube first—steam curling into the low archive air – then at him – then... they just shook your helm with a faint huff, like amusement trying not to be seen “…You’re not as intolerable as you were”

Sentinel smirked, folding his arms and leaning slightly closer “I’ll take that as a heartfelt declaration of affection”

“Take it as a warning. You’re wearing me down”

“Good” Sentinel murmured, pleased “Makes it easier to sneak into your schedule”

You didn’t tell him to leave

And he didn’t ask to stay

They just worked. Side by side. Occasionally brushing data windows toward each other, occasionally sharing quiet that didn’t feel like silence. Like this was normal now. Like somehow—without anyone announcing it—he’d become part of the footnotes in your day

—

The archives had always been quiet. But this… was too quiet

You sat before the central validation terminal, optics narrowed as lines of processed data ran across the screen. Normally, your work involved verifying temporal consistency, cross-referencing source authenticity, and cleaning up language input from field bots who treated historical reporting like casual gossip — but this wasn’t gossip

This was a timestamped field report. From a Prime-tier outpost. And it didn’t match the report Alpha Trion had handed them this morning

Same event. Same operative. Different wording. Different outcome

And this was the fourth time this week

You brought up both documents—parallel, floating side by side. At a glance, identical. But not quite. The phrasing was just clinical enough to avoid suspicion. The numbers… just plausible enough to escape casual audit. Some were altered more subtly than others. Some inserted new information. Others erased things. Patterns began to form—certain names vanishing from records. Certain decisions scrubbed clean of dissent. A slow, deliberate redirection of narrative

But You didn’t read casually, you read like the future depended on it. Because sometimes, it did

You leaned closer. Opened the metadata. Something flickered – an override signature

Sentinel

Not the full one. Not overt. But his code was in the chain. A sublevel authorization ping—probably buried deep in a rerouting command. Too clean to be a mistake. Too careful to be a coincidence

And why is that? That is the question

—

The chamber was silent but it wasn’t the silence of order and it wasn’t peace. It was the kind of silence that came after something broke— Suddenly – Violently —So completely that even the echoes didn’t know where to go

You sat alone in the central atrium of the Hall of Records. The room—once alive with soft lights and quiet, rhythmic humming—now felt vast and hollow, like the inside of a broken bell. The archive’s main lights had dimmed themselves hours ago, following protocol that couldn’t tell the difference between motionless focus and simple absence. Holographic glyphs still hovered faintly above the console. Fragmented, flickering. Half-rendered thoughts waiting for a directive

They pulsed softly in the darkness, as if uncertain whether their purpose remained

You hadn’t moved. Not since the message came through. Not since the declaration hit them like a blade made of code and finality

The Thirteen Primes have been lost

No battle. No footage. No grand sacrifice — Just... a report. One sentence. Cold, clean, absolute and a follow-up notice:

They will not return

Not “they cannot” Not “they may not” they will not. Your hands had been still on the console ever since. Locked in place. Not gripping—clutching, with pressure that only now began to tremble from strain. You hadn’t moved. Not from disbelief. You had seen enough in your long life to know that nothing—no matter how vast—was immune to destruction. Not even from grief, not yet. The pain hadn’t taken shape. It was numbness. Cold, static-lined void. Not like losing a person. More like watching the stars themselves turn off, one by one, and not knowing if you were next

If someone had asked you yesterday whether the Primes could die, you would’ve said no. Not because you were naive. You had never been one to place blind faith in divine myth. But the Primes were not just icons — They were anchors — Mountains, carved into the structure of Cybertron itself. Fixed points around which history rotated. You didn’t believe in them, the way you believed in stories

You relied on them and now? Gone

Gone, without a trace. Without a last word. Without even a record. Like they had never been

You hadn’t noticed the way your joints had locked until you finally loosened your grip on the console. One finger twitched first, then another. The sensation returned slowly, pins and needles rippling down your arm as you exhaled for the first time in what felt like megacycles. The silence pressed back in

And then—

Footsteps. Slow. Unhurried. Too measured to be uncertain. Too composed to be innocent You didn’t need to turn. You knew

“You’re still here”

The voice came low, as though reluctant to break the stillness—but unable to resist doing so. Controlled, almost gentle but not quite — Sentinel stepped past the edge of the darkened corridor and into the atrium, his frame outlined in the cold ambient glow of the failing terminals. Even his footsteps sounded louder than usual here, every contact with the stone floor ringing too sharp, too deliberate “Everyone else has gone to the Spire"

You didn’t answer, didn’t even blink. Your gaze remained fixed forward, eyes dim and distant, staring through the projections as though trying to read something that hadn’t yet been written

Something that should have been there

Sentinel’s footsteps echoed again as he moved closer—slow, even, deliberate

“The official rites are being drafted” he said, after a moment “They want you to verify the final accounts. For the records"

He didn’t phrase it as a command. Not exactly. But the weight behind it was undeniable. At that, Your helm dipped slightly. Not in obedience. Not in agreement. Just… acknowledgment. Your voice came a moment later. Quiet. Hoarse in a way that had nothing to do with their vocalizer

“They’re dead..” A beat “All of them”

The words didn’t echo, simply fell, flat, lifeless, like corrupted data hitting a locked node

Sentinel didn’t respond right away. He stood behind them now—just a few paces away—but made no move to reach out, no pretense of comfort. Only the silence, shared “Yes”

One word. Heavy as a headstone

The word lingered. Not in grief. Not in reflection. Just—confirmation. Neatly clipped. Perfectly balanced. As if he had been waiting to say it

You didn’t move at first. Only optics shifted—quietly tracking the flickering remains of the central display. The soft wash of light from the terminal painted shifting glyphs on the metallic floor, but no new data came. No emergency alerts. No last pings from the outer sectors. No autologs from the Primes. Nothing — Your hand moved slowly, brushing a few dormant glyphs back into focus. The last outbound transmissions. System traces. Anything

But the logs were clean

Too clean

“They didn’t send anything” you murmured, the words soft, but weighter “Not one of them. No burst signal. No fail-safe ping. Not even a corrupted echo"

The words turned brittle. The disbelief was not loud—but it was cutting. You turned—just slightly. Enough to glimpse him standing behind, his figure still and controlled, as though carved from the archive walls themselves. Hands clasped behind his back. Shoulders squared. That same unreadable expression he always wore like armor

But now… it felt wrong —Too smooth. Too complete. Like a statue placed just a little too soon after the funeral

“And you…”

“You’re very calm”

There it was: a twitch

Not obvious—just the faintest narrowing of Sentinel’s optics as he turned his helm slightly toward them “Would you rather I fall to my knees?” he said. Tone level. Not mocking—but not grieved, either

If it was meant to soften the moment, it failed

Your optics didn’t waver “I’d rather you look like someone who just lost everything"

The air between them was thin now. Like atmosphere stripped bare. Sentinel stepped forward, one pace only. Careful. Measured “The rites must be prepared. The Council needs stability. Cybertron needs structure. If I crumble now, what will they cling to?”

“Structure..?” The word tasted sour on your tongue. You turned to face him fully. The low light caught the edges of your frame, casting a faint halo over the lines of wear fatigue had etched over long hours

Your voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to “Funny how fast structure came together... considering how sudden this all was"

Something flickered across Sentinel’s face. Too brief. A pause, like static between signals. He recovered quickly. But you had seen it “You think I planned this?”

“No" They took a step closer, boots clicking softly against the stone floor “I think you expected it”

Sentinel didn’t reply. So you pressed forward, calm as a scalpel’s edge “The sealed Spire. The rites drafted before the message even reached all districts. The in memoriam archives already preloaded" your optics glinted now, cold and sharp

“You don’t prepare that fast, Sentinel”

Silence. A heavy one

Sentinel’s gaze held steady—but his stance had shifted. A subtle set to the jaw. A flicker of tension behind the shoulders “There are contingency plans” he said at last

“But you didn’t react like this was a contingency – You moved like someone whose schedule had simply... advanced" you weren’t shouting. This wasn’t anger. Not yet. This was worse. It was the kind of quiet that cracked glass — you took another step forward. Sentinel didn’t move “You knew”

You said it not as a claim—but as a data point “You knew something. And you didn’t say anything. Not to me. Not to the Archives. Not to anyone who might have asked why”

Silence stretched again, pulled thin between them like a wire ready to snap. Even the terminals seemed to hold their breath

Then— “Knowing…” Sentinel said slowly “isn’t the same as choosing”

“Then whose choice was it?”

That stopped him. His expression didn’t break—but it no longer looked composed. It looked constructed and still, he said nothing. Which, perhaps, was the loudest thing yet

The Spire bells had long gone quiet. The mourning banners were still up, but the tones of grief had already begun to shift—less raw now, more ceremonial. Official. Muted into symbols

In the weeks that followed

Sentinel did what he had always been best at: He moved forward. Quietly. Confidently. Like a mech simply answering a call no one else could. No one declared him the new Prime. Not at first. But decisions began flowing through his office. Emergency coordination. Transition logistics. Security restructuring. Public reassurance. Every corridor that once ended in silence now echoed with orders signed in his glyph. And no one stopped him. Because no one knew what else to do

At first, it was small. A council meeting held without you—an oversight, you were told. A briefing rerouted to a secondary terminal—misfiled, the assistant claimed. Requests for archival access began to be reviewed then delayed then quietly ignored. One by one, your permissions shifted. Not revoked—restricted. Not banned—just... paused, pending Sentinel’s authorization “Just protocol” he said with that same calm smile “We’re all adjusting to new parameters”

And yet—those parameters always seemed to shift in one direction. His

The chamber above the New Arc Circuit was always cool, always dark. A half-circle of open air overlooked the hall below—a place once alive with debate, bright with the thrum of Prime-forged voices. But now, like so many places in recent cycles, it stood hollow. The ancient lighting had dimmed itself to a low ambient hue, cool silver washing over the stone and metal in shadows and soft reflections.

You stood near the edge, hands resting on the curved railing polished smooth by centuries of counsel. Below, the great speaking floor stretched wide and silent, a ceremonial space untouched since the Spire bells fell quiet. You didn’t turn when you heard the footsteps. Didn’t need to

They had learned the cadence of his walk. Smooth. Steady. Never rushed. Never loud. The stride of someone who believed he already belonged in every room he entered “You’ve been reallocating my permissions"

No anger in your voice. No shock. Just cold, deliberate observation — The kind of truth that left no room for denial. Sentinel didn’t slow. He crossed the polished obsidian floor behind them, his reflection a ripple of dark armor and gold filigree beneath their feet

“Temporarily” His tone was light. Gentle, even. But too balanced to be mistaken for casual

“You didn’t inform me” your gaze fixed on the empty floor below—an echo chamber now. The ghosts of the Primes no longer stirred. Sentinel stopped a short distance behind you

“I didn’t need to” he said quietly “The system recognizes my authority now — Your position, on the other hand, is being... redefined”

That made you turn. Sharp. Controlled. But sharp, optics caught the low light, glowing brighter than he remembered—like you had finally reawakened from grief, only to find anger waiting behind it

“Redefined?”

“By whose decision?”

“By necessity” he replied so so simply

“Your role was constructed under the old paradigm. The Primes are gone”

He took a step closer—not threatening, but deliberate “You served history well”

He meant it. He did. He had watched them work for vorns—methodical, incorruptible, brilliant in ways few ever saw. You had been the voice behind the curtain. The invisible measure by which even the Primes were kept honest. He respected that even… envied it.. But it couldn’t remain

"But I am building something new”

Now he looked at them fully. Not like a subordinate. Not like a rival. Like a problem that used to be a person “And history… isn’t what we need right now.”

You didn’t respond. Not with words

But he saw the tension in your jaw. The stillness in your hands—too still. Like someone holding a thought so tightly they feared it might shatter if spoken aloud. He waited a breath. Two. Then smiled. Just barely “Let it go” he said, voice low. Not mocking. Not cruel. Just… final

“Let the past rest” He took one step more. Just near enough to stand beside you. His voice dropped even lower. Almost a murmur and for a moment—just a moment—he thought they might yield. That the weight of it all—the grief, the isolation, the slow, quiet cuts to your place in the world—had finally worn you down “You don’t want to turn yourself into a relic chasing ghosts”

He didn’t want to erase you

Not like he had erased others

He remembered the way you used to speak in the early days, side by side during cross-era briefings. He remembered the dry wit. The spark of challenge in your optics. You had once made him feel watched. Not in the paranoid way—but in the way that reminded him to stand taller. To be better. But this wasn’t then and if you couldn’t see the necessity of what he was doing…

He would have to act, eventually

But not yet

“Let the archives sleep a while” he added, almost soft “We’ll find a better use for you”

He turned then, the floor catching his reflection as he walked back across the chamber and you remained behind, silent at the rail, watching as your world—your work—shifted underfoot like sand in the tide. They said nothing. But in your chest, something clenched. Because they could hear it now. You quiet, subtle shape of a lie forming in every document you weren’t allowed to see

And it carried his glyph

[quixotical-lymbo]

Hi ! Just discovered you through your D-16 x reader fic and your writing is MWAH MWAH yummy 😋 ahhhh thank youuu, I've been craving for tf one fics, I want to request a short fic with D-16, Orion Pax and Gn! Reader who's a racer from that various reader prompts you posted awhile ago? Anything else is up to you! Go wild

Thank youuuu 🫶💐

Pairing: D-16, Orion Pax x gn!racer!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: Showcasing your appreciation for your fans leads to an unlikely encounter.  Warnings/Tags: Pre-canon, cybertronian!reader with a cog, size difference, awkward flirting??, forehelm kisses, and fluff.  A/N: Aww ty for the love! Hope you enjoy :) Word Count: 800+ words 

"What are we doing back here?" Came a rushed whisper from one bot. 

"What does it look like, genius? We're here to meet, ___."

"What?! You said you wanted to show me something, not break into a racer's personal quarters!"

"Psh, I bet they meet all sorts of fans back here all the time, besides, I'm sure they won't mind the bot they blew a kiss at to come and meet them backstage." 

"...you mean me?" 

"You?" 

"They blew the kiss at me."

"My friend, you need to get your optics checked, I'm pretty sure that kiss was meant for-" 

Orion didn't get to finish his sentence when the door to your quarters opened and your shiny figure stepped out and into the hallway. You glanced down at your newly filed digits before glancing up to spot two small, cogless bots standing in front of you. 

"...." 

"..."

"Why, hello there…where did you two come from?" Your voice was as warm as the sweetest energon and caused the tense mechs to ease up. You crouched before the two and placed your servos on your knee pads. One mech was blue and red, a lot more colorful in appearance and personality compared to his standoffish, silver colored mech companion. They were obviously miners from what you could tell from their chipped paint and dusty frames. 

The blue and red mech cleared his throat and prepared to speak until he was nudged back by his friend.

"We were lost! Yeah, we didn't mean to come…all the way here," The silver mech gave his friend a side-optic glare. 

"Could you help us find our way out?" The red mech briefly met his companion's shocked expression with a teasing smirk before switching his bright gaze onto you. "The name's Orion Pax, this mech over here is-"

 

"-D-16, nice to meet you…I'm…your biggest fan! I've been to almost all of your races and-" D-16 stammered out his introduction and seemed to be digging a further hole for himself as he rambled on. His friend watched with a familiar fondness before he snapped his gaze to the racer when their bell-like laugh rang out. 

"Aren't you two the cutest fans I've met," You cooed before pushing yourself up to stand. "I'll show you the way out, follow me." 

Orion pumped a servo when you turned away and winked at D-16 as he went to walk by your side. D-16 only rolled his optics and quickly went to catch up. 

“So, ____, how do you win like all the time?” Orion started the conversation. 

“Practice makes perfect,” You replied with a smile. 

“And what do you do when you lose?” Came the interesting inquiry from the silver mech. Realizing how his question might imply something bad, “I mean, how do you deal with the pressure of needing to be the best? I couldn't imagine having all those optics on me at all times.” 

You giggled and mulled over his question for a few nanokliks. “Well, I suppose I don't beat myself up about losing a race, after all the races would be boring if my rivals weren't on my level.” 

“Right! Makes sense. I, uh, thank you." D-16 felt his face plate warm as your bright optics made contact with his. 

"You're welcome, thank you two for seeing me,” You stopped when the exit came into view. “I haven't had this much fun in a while, I hope to see you too at the finish line again.” 

“We'll be there, ” Orion nodded as he nudged D-16 toward the exit. 

D-16 bit his bottom derma before turning back around and walking over to you. 

“Can…can I get a signature?” 

You blinked before your dermas curved in happiness at the timid request made by the mech. You see, instead of signing merch the regular way, you usually left your ‘mark’ on any special fan who caught your attention. It was a very rare occurrence which is why those bots claimed they'd never wash the mark off. 

 You crouched down and tilted the mech's helm back by curling a digit under his chin. D-16's breath was caught in his intake as your dermas pressed against his helm. He stood there frozen even when Orion came to his side and asked for a mark as well.

You obliged and kissed his helm as well. 

Orion leaned into it as you pulled away, you stifled a laugh as you booped his nose to snap the red and blue mech out of his daze. 

“Well…I'll see you two at the next race,” You mused before turning to leave. 

Orion and D-16 were standing there, pedes frozen to the ground as they processed the previous events. 

“Guess that blown kiss was meant for both of us.” 

D-16 only rolled his optics before smacking Orion's arm.

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. like my writing? consider buying me a kofi :)

banner(s) by @dollywons !!

[cyberrose2001]

Tfp Soundwave and Shockwave might not interface a lot (or ever), but I can 100% guarantee they know all the best interfacing tips and tricks even if its questionable how they know them 👀.

So any drop of nsfw content for these mighty mechs with a femme cybertrionian reader 🙏🙏would be much appreciated.

Also, remember to hydrate

TFP Soundwave and Shockwave NSFW Headcanons (Femme Reader)

This is literally just a bunch of kinks and I will not apologise for it, tehehe

Many thanks to @mechdyke-after-hours for it's helpful input, I was stuck for ideas, so it deserves much credit !!

Warnings: Intense Kinks (Tentacles, Exhibitionism, Voyerism, Overstim, Somno, Medical Kink, Gun Kink), Oral Sex

Word Count: 721

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Soundwave

- As one of the most reserved cons on the Nemesis, Soundwave gives little to no information about himself, let alone his private matters. And most certainly nothing about his relationship with you. For most members onboard who are curious enough, it could spell a life-or-death mission to find out what gets the spy hot and bothered. He keeps his desires under wraps in public, always guarded but never truly depraved of lust.

- But when it eventually does come to the berthroom, that thick impenetrable wall of secrecy unveils a door for you.

- It's definitely been discussed amongst the others whether or not Soundwave could put his tendrils to questionable uses. And they are all correct, you discovered that the spy is very much into tentacle play of the hentai calibre. He'll sit back and let his tentacles do the work for him. He'd tenderly snake them around your limbs, spread you nice and wide before him, and penetrate you in the air. It also gives Soundwave the freedom to use his servos for other means, whether on the computer or knuckle-deep in his own valve.

- The rumours have spread that he's into exhibitionism, ironically enough. Soundwave wouldn't be caught dead exposing himself fully, but he's sneaky enough to encrypt a live feed on the monitors of the Nemesis to any bot who's smart enough to access it. And if they do, they'll be met with the garbled and static moans of you being pounded into the desk.

- Soundwave likes a bit of overstimulation and orgasm denial. He'll keep hold of your frame on his spike while his tentacles pinch and 'suck' on your node, bringing you to the edge in an endless cycle until you're limp and twitching.

- Soundwave has a thing for somno; quiet is his style. He loves recharging beside you, don't get him wrong, but there's something so peaceful yet arousing when he slips a couple digits into your puffy valve. He loves how your frame unconsciously jolts when he rubs circles to your node.

- Overall, one of the freakier mechs on the Nemesis, except, of course...

Shockwave

- When Shockwave met you, he knew he just had to have you, despite the fact that a pretty little femme like you had no business with a mech like him. But it was all about business once he got his mitts on you, making you even sign a waiver. Are you stupid or just insanely charged up for the scientist?

- Interfacing with Shockwave borders between super tame and straight-up morally insane. He tested the waters first, plunging his engorged spike into your tight valve as a "control" for his "experiments". He would show nil emotions, fucking into you on his desk, calculating and observing every whine and gasp.

- Shockwave would test the waters more, observing your obedience to him. He'd make you sit on your knees and flex your glossa for him before making you take his spike to the base of your throat. And he liked using your mouth more than he'd admit, unexpectedly overloading just to watch the transfluid dribble down your chin.

- This is where the waiver comes in. Being a scientist, Shockwave likes to experiment on you. Medical play is where it's at with this mech. He'd start with a helm-to-toe assessment while you're strapped and exposed to him, poking inside your intake, then trailing down to your exposed spark chamber. He'd take samples of your energon, maybe even taste it, the sick fuck. He'd inject different substances and observe your reaction, always taking notes. And yes, his spike is erect and throbbing the entire time.

- And when you thought you couldn't possibly risk your life more, Shockwave has a gun kink, specifically his gun. He'll lean over you on the berth, one thick arm beside your head and the other sticking his cannon between your thighs, teasing your slick valve with the tip. He'd push you to your limits, slowly stretching you over it until he has to hold you down against the berth. The thrill of fucking you with it at the risk of blowing your fragile little frame to bits makes him almost overload above you.

- And, of course, Shockwave will ensure your emotional integrity is still attached, asking if you need anything and supplying you with endless energon for your troubles.

[i-starcreamed]

Can I request how Megs would feel if he fought his beloved, reader needs to beat some sense to him and help him from being blinded with hatred. (Tf one plz) Also I want a good ending cuz I'm still sad about the movie. And if it isn't obvious cybertronian reader.

MEGATRON X READER

Obviously Tf One spoilers! God this was so fun to write, I just hope I got their personalities right. I haven't written anything this long in a while !! Also I never knew I'd be so much of a Megatron enjoyer until this movie...yeah, it took me this long.

[ cybertronian! reader Angst and eventually fluff, could be pretty rushed tbh but I just want him to healll. Very NOT canon to the movie

You knew it wasn’t your D-16 the moment his optics changed. Or maybe it was the way he distanced himself from you and your friends in a matter of hours--maybe minutes. It was a subconscious, subtle shift, but one you wished you could have talked him out of.

You suppose you saw the changed D-16 once you made it to the hideout of the High Guard fliers. Your once-kind, responsible lover was gripping Starscream by the neck, his hold tightening with every word from the flier beneath him.

You glanced at Orion, Elita, and Bee, all frozen in horror. You panicked and you stepped forward, placing your servo on his shoulder. Before you could continue, he whirled around, optics burning with a cold, harsh light—practically glaring at you.

“Y/N…“

“D, what the hell are you doing?!” You demanded, your voice steady despite his glare. “This isn’t like you, this isn’t the way, come on.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his optics locked onto Starscream again. He was seething, the flier grinning through the pain wasn't helping your case either.

“Come on, do it! Do it, don’t be a c-coward!” Starscream sputtered through glitching vocal processors, even as D-16’s servo squeezed harder, threatening to crush the life from him.

D-16 narrowed his optics, “I’m not a coward!” He roared as Starscream’s cackling turned into garbled screeches

You attempted to push him away, roughly shoving him by the shoulder. “D, stop it!” He shoved you back. The sudden force sent you stumbling, and when you steadied yourself, you found yourself staring down the barrel of his arm cannon. His orange optics were locked on you, but for a fleeting moment, they softened. It was like he didn't recognize you, but then he hesitated.

“Stay out of my way, from now on.” He said lowly, as if his words pained him. “Please.”

His hesitation vanished as the cannon swung back toward Starscream. You stood there, stunned, until Orion and Elita rushed over to pull you up. Then you just stood and did nothing.

You watched in horror as D-16 continued to declare himself as someone they should follow to victory. Oh, you knew how much he wanted Sentinel dead now. Hell, you did too. But you weren’t sure if this was the right way. You weren’t a bad bot. Neither was D-16, he never was. You had to do something...before things got bad.

You recalled the moment just before he…snapped.

___

“Y/N, don’t you see? He’s been lying this whole time.” “Yes, D. I see, I know. But—“ “I want him dead. I just-I need..I need to see him suffer. Look what he did. To you. To me. To us. We could have been..so much more.” He placed his servo over your spark, right above where your transformation cog was. He used to dream of you two racing together, having fun. Hell, flying even. Back then he didn’t know what he would transform into. “We can still be more, D. We have a bigger purpose now, we were given the ability to transform by a prime himself. We just need to..show everyone the truth. And we will. Then we can—“ “It’s not enough.” He blurted out, pulling you closer as if it was the last time he’d hold you. “You deserve so much better. I promise you, Y/N. I promise you he will pay.”

___

Things only got worse from there. You reached your breaking point when you saw D-16—no, Megatron—vanish Orion himself. You couldn’t believe it. They were like brothers. And now, your beloved had become something else entirely. And yet, you still felt helpless.

You rushed over, avoiding and pushing the other bots as you made your way to where D-16 stood. They all cheered him on as he was trying to lift Sentinel into the air. He was going to kill him. He really was.

“D, stop it! Look what you’ve done!” You shouted, stomping your way forward, frustration boiling inside. You slammed your shaking fist into his shoulder. Primus, you were pissed at him right now.

“Please, please! Tell me what the hell you’re doing. This wasn’t a part of the plan.” You pleaded with him, hoping you’d somehow get him to react. Instead, he inched closer, the same stance you’d expect of someone challenging you. “No, you’re wrong. This was the plan. It was what had to be done. How can I get you to see that.” He visibly calmed for a moment, reaching out a servo to brush against the side of your faceplate. Despite everything, it’s still him. And he loved you.

You hesitated, then stepped back. Oh, how it pained you. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand your goal.” You said, barely above a whisper. Time seemed to freeze, and he slowly lowered his arm. In an instant, you watched his gaze darken.

“Then you’re just in my way.”

__

Your hopes were revived as Orion, now as Optimus Prime, came back, the matrix of leadership implanted into his chest. Optimus had saved the life of Sentinel (perhaps a little undeserved), knowing there was another way to deal with this. But now he has to save..practically all of Iacon. Maybe just maybe, between the two of you, you can stop Megatron.

The fight between the two friends wasn’t solving anything, you only feared they’d end up killing each other. You got rid of your fear, inserting yourself in the fight just as they managed to gain some distance from eachother. He grunted as you shoved him harder this time, his footing a bit unsteady from his existing injuries.

“What are yo—“

“I told you, stop. This,” you punctuated every word with a shove. “Is. Madness!” You panted, glaring up at your lover. “Come back to me, D. This isn’t the real you. I know it isn’t.” You pleaded, he responded with an irritated grunt.

“I, am Megatron. Not D-16, I am not that bot anymore. Y/N, stand down-“

“No! You stand down! You’re acting foolishly right now! I won't just stand here and watch you destroy yourself and--” You yelled, going straight for him to push him again, but he stopped you with a raise of his cannon. You froze in your tracks.

"Back down, Y/N." He said with a growl. You narrowed your optics, leaning your frame right up against the barrel, hearing a light clink.. The glow illuminated your armor. For a second, you saw his optics widen. He paused, licking his teeth. "I don't want to fight you. But I-"

"But you will if you have to, right? That's what you were going to say? Do it then," Your voice cracked, "I have nothing left to lose."

He huffed, so be it. He lunged towards you, and you raised your arms, blocking the strike. You opened up to move his blaster out of the way, leaving your side open to his incoming fist. It collided with your side, sparks flying from the contact. You grunted, stumbling back. When he came at you again, you caught his arm, pulling him close until you were face to face.

"We're both being foolish right now, are you happy yet? You panted, he grits his teeth.

"Quit saying that!" He growled, shoving you away. He shot his cannon, the blast flying past your side. You slid to avoid it, earning another blast from him. He fired his cannon, but the shot missed. He was aiming wide on purpose. You blinked, you knew his aim wasn't that bad...primus, he really was missing on purpose. If you weren't fighting right now, you'd swoon.

"Are you missing on purpose?" You asked incredulously.

"No! I.. yes..no! Listen to me, Y/N. We can end this now, if you let me do this one thing."

"You've already done enough. D..."

"Don't call me that."

He lunged again, but this time, you sidestepped, charging into him and sending him crashing to the ground, the side of his face hit the ground. You managed to pin him momentarily, struggling to keep him from standing.

"This isn't what you want. Trust me.." You paused. "Megs. Please."

He tensed beneath you, then slightly loosened as you called him 'Megs.'

"This is revenge, it won't help you feel any better. Not long-term. You'll only continue hating and hating, I can't bear to lose you like this. It's...it's tearing us apart." You shuddered, loosening your grip.

Eventually, you felt his breathing slow to a decent pace, slowly, you climbed off him, kneeling beside him. He sighed. "I..I don't know how to stop." He quietly said. You leaned forward, placing a servo against his jaw. "I can help you. I will help you. Megs, you have me with you. You have..Optimus with you. We're all with you."

You both knelt silently for a moment, gathering each other's thoughts. Finally, he had the courage to look up at you. You might never see those big yellow optics of his again, but at least now they weren't so cold. They held some type of sincerity. "I'm..so sorry." He breathed out.

You almost sighed in relief. "You're still angry, and that's okay, alright? Now it's my turn to promise you, we'll deal with this differently. It won't feel fair at first, but it's the right thing to do. Stand up." You gently said, extending your servo out to him. He slowly took your servo, his grip as gentle, almost afraid of breaking you. Primus, how he regrets hurting you. You can see it written all over his face. He was blinded by rage, he was indeed acting foolish. His optics briefly flicked to Sentinel, still on the ground and honestly, grateful to still be in one single piece. He turned away before the anger could return.

"I didn't want to hurt you," He whispered.

You softly scoffed, gently nudging him. This time, without any defensive intent. "You controlled yourself better than I did. I wanted to beat your aft, D-- Megs." You joked, earning a small, bittersweet smile.

You took your servos in his, softly smiling at him. You turned to Optimus, who was just as relieved as you were. "Optimus, do you think Megs and I can help rebuild Iacon? The way it's supposed to be?"

Optimus smiled gently, looking proud. "Of course you can. We all can." He looked at Megatron, his gaze firm but kind. "I am glad to have you back, friend."

Megatron nodded, still tense but..accepting. One day, they'll be as brothers again. You just know it. "As am I." He said, turning to you. His gaze softened. "Y/N...I love you."

"I love you as well, Megs."