#Cybertronian/post human reader

[ss-shitstorm]

Hey sorry the next chapter of Bread is taking so long(I have a good reason I swear and that reason is I’m trying to speedrun the smut) In the meantime please accept this excerpt from my first ever participation in Kinktober(that probably won’t be ready until december at the earliest) and also the most self-indulgent shit I’ve ever written in my goddamn life.

Seraphim (working title)

Paring : Starscream/Reader, Starscream/You

Kinks : Strip clubs, Pole Dancing, Semi Public Sex, Leg/Heel Worship, Gentle Dom, Master/Student Dynamic, Drug induced sex

“Are you feeling alright?”

Asks your stage mate a stone’s throw away on his side of the holographic catwalk, half-naked protomass hugged flush against his frame as he slows to a lazy stop.

“I can’t keep my eyes on my pole and your body at the same time “A little dizzy” you say plainly, furiously chewing the quid in your tightening jaw. “My uh...my fluid pump is going kinda fast.”

“Syk will do that.” he says, loose grin splitting his face as he regards your tense, trembling frame. “That and the spark oscillations. Let your cooling fans catch up for a moment.”

That sounds like a good idea. But so does sinking to the floor, or collapsing on it, the latter a bit closer to reality than you’d like. “Alright. I’m um…gonna sit down for a sec.”

“Fortunately, we’ve a surpluses of seats.” He says, abandoning his portion of the stage and strolling over to yours. He offers his servo, far smoother and softer than you’d ever realized to pull you to your feet.

“Steady?” he asks as you take a tentative step forward.

You answer by stumbling on your arched ped, blinking not-quite in stereo.

“I suppose not.” He slings your arm over his shoulders as he hefts the majority of his weight from your frame into his. It has the (probably) unintended effect of pressing your face into his neck and your own exposed chassis against his as he walks you step by warm, blissfully unsteady step over to the front row, guiding you off the catwalk and into the frontmost seat.

Or, tries to. Said seat happens to be occupied by a stocky purple and yellow femme with squinted, bloodshot optics and lazy grin on her plastic face, making repetitive cheering motions while tossing glowstick-colored popcorn in your general direction.

“Wait.” You say as he starts setting you down, struggling not to slur over your alien bubble gum. “Someone’s in that seat.”

Airplane man blinks, looking from you, to the occupant and back. “They’re a hologram. They’ll be fine.”

“Yeah but, I still don’t want to sit on her.”

He blinks again. You grind your jaw harder, instinctively anticipating a hissyfit or long winded dump on you and your “pathetic leftover human sensibilities”.

But that’s not what you get.

What you get is a roll of his optics, pupils blown to oceanic proportions and a muffled snort under his breath as he chokes back a laugh.

“You’ve blown up cities with no remorse, and still pull the parking brake at being rude.” He says, taking the prifma from his subspace, activating it in all its ornate, infinitely complex glory. He waves it in front of the femme’s face and, once certain she’s enraptured, pitches it across the room.

She stumbles from her chair, bolting after it and giggling like a madman. You find yourself joining her, blown away by the attention to detail he’d put into this holodeck program. Even the NPC’s reliably stay in perfect, pleasantly-fucked up character as the patrons he’d based them off of.

“I had some remorse.” you say as he sets you down in the seat, non-linear headspace dangling the thread from earlier irresistibly in your peripheral. “About the city, I mean. I didn’t really want to do that.”

“I’m sure at least part of you did.” He answers with a knowing sneer that barely qualifies as a facial expression. “But that wasn’t intended to be an insult. I simply found the juxtaposition of those attitudes amusing.”

“I didn’t take it as one.” You bite down on your lip by sheer accident, and not because the tips of his digits as they release your arms send the most sublime wave of goosebumps cresting over your protomass. “And you’re right. I did kinda like doing it. Not because I wanted anyone hurt though.”

“Simply because you enjoy blowing scrap sky-high?” he asks with a probably unintentional purr.

“Yeah.” You swallow at nothing, suddenly very aware of how dry your intake has become. “Ah, crap. I should probably go get some coolant.”

“Good idea. Do you remember where the dispensary stations are located-wait.” His optics flash as he sinks down to his knees, reaching into his subspace to withdraw a handful of disposable coolant packets, before offering them to you. “Stay seated, my little apprentice. I’ve got you.”

Were you capable of producing tears in this state, you’d surely be crying. “You….you’re a god.” You croak, taking the handful and ripping the top off of the first one.

“And you’re an exceptional worshiper.” He winks, straightening and getting to his peds. “In fact, stay put and I’ll give you reason to be truly devout.”

“Mmmph.” Is your poignant reply, covertly spitting the quid out to jam the packet’s straw into your intake. Your denta might suffer for it later, but right now you’re thirsty, and your jaw is *exhausted*. “You what now?”

Something warm, satisfied as a cat that’d claimed a mouse washes over his face. A look like he’d been waiting for this precise moment his entire life as he strides towards the pole you’d abandoned, casting a sly smirk at you from over his shoulder.

“Allow me to show you how I got my stage name.”

Starcream, or, “Sykness”, as he’d revealed earlier, taps his audial, likely altering the holodeck parameters in a way you still don’t understand how to do yet. After a moment, and clearly satisfied, he steps forward, raising a servo to snap his fingers.

The lights dim, the ambient electrohouse music softens to a nigh-inaudible level.-, the track taking it’s place jogging a very human part of your memory. Your brow furrows in contemplation, chewing the straw on your cybertronian Capri-sun as your brain scrambles to place these famous first few notes into their respective cubby holes. You know this. C’mon think. Think.

Definition remains elusive even as it dawns, casting shadows and early sunlight over that meandering, out of place electric guitar riff. The thick, wet kick drum that starts just a moment too early. That melodic, haunting voice layered over aimless, choir-like vocals.

He steps forward, placing a servo on his hip, wrapping the other around the pole as he keels forward into a reverent bow, waiting for the true melody to start. How fitting it is, you think, that a being bowing to no worldly power allows music alone to bend his knee.

“Life is a mystery

Everyone must stand alone-”

How also fitting, you also think, that he’d choose a human song sharing the thematic nuance of the substance coursing through both your veins. Though the “Are you fucking kidding me” stays wedged behind your denta as he tilts his helm upward, reaching the servo from his hip toward the stars as a pharisaic priest calls upon his god.

“-I hear you call my name

And it feels like-

Home.”

The scattered percussion solidifies into a drumline, moving his hips for him as he he lowers his servo. He clutches it to his throat before drawing the digits down his face, savoring the theatrics until the tempo demands his full compliance. Which it does, as a drum and bass enhanced version of Madonna’s 12’ inch Like a Prayer club mix slides into its first chorus, while he slides into a splayed V at the base of the pole, sinfully sharpened legs spread towards your line of vision like a runway.

“When you call my name

It’s like a little prayer

I’m down on my knees

I wanna take you there.”

He bends them at the knees, backwards until the tips of his heels barely graze the top of his aft, before swinging the right one over the left, sprawling onto his back and reaching one arm horizontally beyond his head, drawing the other down his cleavage and chassis.

“In the midnight hour

I can feel your power

Jut like a prayer

I wanna take you there.”

Rolling to his side he faces you, sliding his servo down the length of his topmost leg as he raises it up. Up until the tip of his ped kisses the top of his helm, before swinging at the knee to place it flat on the floor, digits trailing along his thighs and aft as he pulls himself into a catlike crouch at the base of the pole.

“I hear your voice

It’s like an angel sighing

I have no choice I hear your voice,

Feels like flying.”

Fly he does, reaching both servos behind his back to wrap around the pole, pulling himself to his feet before hooking his heel and calf around the base and gliding in a half-moon circle until his lithe, winged back now faces you.

“I close my eyes

Oh god I think I’m falling

Out of the sky I close my eyes

Heaven help me-!”

In a feat of limber blasphemy that would make serpents weep, he holds the entirety of his weight in his servos while swinging his lower body forward and up. Knotting his peds at the top of the pole once there to hang upside down, frame held in the downward swoop of a diving falcon.

“When you call my name

It’s like a little prayer

I’m down on my knees

I wanna take you there.”

You’re certainly taken somewhere as he spins around once more to face you, weight balanced on a single leg as his second stretches out to meet his lifted arm in a sharp point. The other servo used to draw trails up the biolights peppering his sides, chassis, and throat before reaching towards you in a “come hither” gesture.

“In the midnight hour

I can feel your power

Just like a prayer

I wanna take you there.”

He circles round, leg akimbo before allowing both to fall to the floor. Kneeling at the pole, curving his back into a C as he transitions to all fours backwards. His chin tilts to the ceiling, optics half-lidded while bracing his digits on the stage, bending one leg up to his chassis and lifting the other pointedly in the air. The second joins it with a sharp kick, both dangling in a loose Y like silk strands in the breeze.

“Like a child

You whisper softly to me

You’re in control,

Just like a child

Now I’m dancing.”

With a cock of his helm, he pushes himself up and back on both servos, throwing both legs backwards, planting his heels on the stage before you and rolling to his feet, granting you full view of his tight, perfect aft while gliding his digits up along his calves and thighs.

“It’s like a dream

No end and no beginning

You’re here with me

Its like a dream

Let the choir sing!”

Straightening his frame to perch flamingo-like on one leg, he reaches one servo above his head, the other sailing from the curve of his waist out to his suspended knee, before flicking both forward, hitting the floor in a roundhouse spin that takes him back to the pole. Back and wings grind flush against the metal as he dips his aft towards the floor, one clawed servo woven between his legs to grip his panel. The other cups his chin so he can bite into his index digit, catching and holding your gaze with those smoldering vermilion searchlights.

“When you call my name

It’s like a little prayer

I’m down on my knees

I wanna take you there.”

He slides into a split, before rolling onto his back to push himself backwards-upright with his palms into a profile view, rhythmically rolling his hips into thin air. He kicks his leg up once, more, hooking it around the pole to sweep the rest of him in a slow circle, springing forward to grip it and pull himself straight.

“In the midnight hour

I can feel your power

Just like a prayer

You know I’ll take you there”

He hugs the pole, cradling the metal between the plush of his exposed chassis, before jutting his frame away. Throwing his helm back and pelvis forward, he thrusts his hips in a continuous, undulating wave, all the while flashing you looks from the corners of his optics and lightning-fast-denta-barring smirks.

“Just like a prayer

Your voice can take me there

Just like, a muse to me

You are a mystery-“

Alien amphetamines or no, you’re very much drugged. Captivated like a cobra frozen by a tamer’s flute. Though his song is one sung in movement, in the serene, frenzied picture his artful limbs paint on the present moment. A moment, which, while existing only within the borders of now, has no end or beginning. Time has stopped for the two of you, and now that it has, you’re made to realize it had no claim over either to begin with.

This mech isn’t just extraterrestrial. He’s extradimensional. The fairy king that’s brought you to the forested threshold of his world. The demon smothering coals made for sinner’s feet to walk you barefoot and painless into hell. The seraphim whispering through the jumbled flesh poetry your mind provides, filtering raw intent and cognition through the labyrinthine filter your bodied consciousness relies on. “Heaven exists.” The angel tells you. “And you’re living in it.”

You believe him, because he’d blessed both bread and wine and handfed them through your parched lips. Because he extended the molecular invitation that led you to and through the doors of perception. Because that’s exactly what beings made of bent light and stardust do, and that’s exactly what he is.

He’s a fucking angel.

“-Just like a dream

You are not what you seem

Just like a prayer

No choice your voice can take me there~”

One that’s making love to himself on that pole so you can watch. So you can be a part of it. Partner in this divine act on the celestial stage that exists only in the gap of your shared awareness.

You’d be content to dissolve into this awareness, this universal heartbeat owed to all by birthright yet obscured by the task of surviving. It’s the first you’ve tasted in *either* life you’d lived, and you’d known not how you hungered for it till it touched your lips.

“Your voice can take me there-”

But your soul cries for something more pressing, more primal. A deeper desire than the one to dive into and drink from this fountain. Behind your slaked thirst grows something far more earthbound but no less urgent around the branches of your heart. Something highlighted by the wicked, nubile body of this Enochian being twisting into shadows before you. By the legs that could lace ribbons ‘round your neck as easily as snap it in half. By the wings that could drop you from the stratosphere as well as shelter you from the sun.

By the arm’s-length distance and thin metal plating separating you from his array, which you’re trying very hard to not think about as stretches into a bird of paradise pose as his finishing move.

“-Like a prayer.”

He slides down to the base, righting himself into a crouch and finally a sit, but not before lassoing a leg to hook around your neck. He pulls you flush against his torso while slinging the other leg around your back, barricading you against his frame.

“You seemed to enjoy that more than I did.” He says, roping an arm around your shoulders as his leg slides down to the curve of your waist. “And I really, really enjoyed that.”

Of course he noticed that. Even despite his natural ability to read everyone within a five-mile radius like a book, he was watching you watch him the entire time. That, and he knows you. Sussed out every last one of your objectives before you even knew them time and time again. That, coupled with the empathic bond you currently share, and metric fuckton of emotional vomit you’d heaved into each other’s laps only an hour or so ago, breaking the barricades down between your naked hearts leads you to a conclusion. The frightening, nauseatingly-thrilling conclusion that he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

And what you’re thinking, you realize with dawning horror subverted to euphoria, is that he’s extremely fucking attractive.

He's hot. Brain-rewiring-hot. Hot beyond anything you or any member of your prior species conceptualized as attractive before. Renaissance painters covered faces of the divine in flesh, only because they knew not what the hands of God could mold from metal.

“I d-did.” You say with a stuttering hiss, his talons tracing the fringe of your wings. “I couldn’t look away if I wanted to.”

“Tell me you didn’t want to.”

“I didn’t.” You ex-vent shakily, nervousness and insecurity foreign concepts as a half-knowing smile spreads over your lips. “And you know damn well I didn’t.”

He laughs, high and pearly you can feel through his bare chassis as he pulls you closer, talons creeping up your spinal strut and sending pleasant goosebumps or the cybertronian version thereof bubbling along your protoform. “Reassurance is always appreciated. Especially from another seeker.”

Right. Robot god retroactively corrected his mistake by rebirthing you as the same breed of creature holding your attention and adrenal glands hostage. Except you’re not. No one is. No one comes close to replicating this supernova condensed into living metal, whose lap you’re currently sitting in. And that’s fine, because you didn’t come here to replicate a dying star, you came here to get lost within them.

An objective you’ve accomplished, upon summoning the courage and stupidity required to look into the sun. Those optics, those impish, mischievous, so very lucid and other optics even with the pupils blown and obscuring, they’re red like a sunset. That brilliant glow coaxing long shadows from the trees and canyons with their warm last strains of light. They offer the promise of further mystery, of the comforting cowl of night for those allergic to the sun to dance within.

He’s not the end of the light. Merely the beginning of darkness.

Perhaps, beyond the loving caress of true death, the gentlest darkness you’ll ever know.

“I might’ve told you this before, back when you were still entombed in that flesh prison-“ he begins, voice liquid velvet against your audials. “But I don’t want to end the night without telling you exactly how engaging I find that brilliant little mind of yours.”

He did tell you, didn’t he? He’d also told you, after testing a facefull of the product he’d conned you into making, that said flesh prison was the only reason he didn’t bend you over the counter and fuck you until your pelvis broke.

“I…thanks. You’re also attractive in the brain, and…um…everywhere else.” You say, fluid pump thrashing uncomfortably fast in your chassis and beneath his servo, which now hovers between your exposed cleavage. He can feel that. He can feel how worked up you are and there’s nothing you can do about it. “But…yeah…I think you said something like ‘Primus help me if you were cybertronian, let alone a flyer.’”

“Oh my. “ He smirks, drawing a talon beneath your chin. “You remember that verbatim?”

“Kinda hard to not.” You say around your stuttering spark. ”It’s not every day someone tells you they like you for YOU that much.”

"A shame. You ought to surround yourself with those who know you better.“

He’s laying on the compliments pretty thickly. And touching you pretty much everywhere he can without touching you *too* much. And while both of those things are absolutely facilitated by the party favor blasting insecurity and unneeded boundaries to bits, you can’t dismiss the possibility he’s hung out to dry in the air between you. Because that possibility is starting to sound like something you’d *very* much like to make reality.

“Since I um… y’know…became both of those things- “you start, squaring up to shoot your shot, venting hitched in please god please even with the bullseye inches from the barrel of your gun. “-what now?”

“Now?-” he says, tilting his helm towards yours, an undefinable something burning like distant stars in his optics as he leans in, lips grazing the very shell of your audial as he whispers:

“-Primus help me.”

You’re not sure who starts it. Maybe neither of you do. Maybe both. Maybe that matters less than the smell of ozone and residual coolant smothered by the taste of a foreign glossa on yours, because Starscream is fucking kissing you.

You’ve been kissed before. You’ve been kissed by metal titans before, prior to becoming one yourself. This is fact, painful and brilliant carved upon your spark. But neither fact nor scar holds any power over the present moment, because all that you are is screaming you’ve never felt like this. Not with every sensor in your frame lighting up like a firework at the ghost of his touch, the whisper of his lips against yours before he fully finds them. The electric zeal as they claim yours fully, neither asking nor demanding entrance to your intake that you give all the same because not listening, not giving, in not deepening this kiss and letting his glossa pins yours down isn’t possible.

This is surrender, some part of you thinks. This is what it feels like to die, once you’ve thrown up your arms and given your life up for lost. The comfort that swaddles you once you’ve stepped beyond, the placid anticipation of what comes next. And what comes next is whatever your reaper decides, because you’d handed him the reigns of this pale horse before ever donning your bridle.

He breaks the kiss, smooth venting uncharacteristically harried as he pulls his lips away only to bite them.

“I’ll take your reciprocation as enthusiastic consent-” he begins, optics searching yours for the tattered remains of hesitancy. “- unless you desire otherwise?”

You desire nothing other than swift and immediate continuation of where you left off. While normal, sober (y/n) might be too nervous to articulate that, Syk! (y/n) isn’t leashed by so useless an emotion. And nervous energy without fear is simply another word for exhilaration.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t. I mean...” you shutter your optics, blowing out a breath. “This is fine. I like this.”

“Would you like to go further?”

You exhale sharply. This time, it’s you that reaches for his face, you that cups his chin in your servo, you that tilts his face up to yours.

“I’ll go as far as you let me.”

He blinks, taken by surprise, not aback by your boldness. It’s a vulnerable half second he hangs within your touch, before laughter erupts from his intake. At once rumbling and yet airy as he shakes his helm from your grasp.

“You’ve yet to interface at all in that body. Do you really want your first time to be while you’re this altered? While we’re gliding?”

“I know I want it to be with you.”

His optics widen, in-venting with a sharp hiss. This is only the second time you’ve caught him off guard tonight but it’s not going to be the last. Because the only thing more attractive than sassy, confident Starscream is reeling-from-raw-and-euphoric-truth Starscream.

“I...I’m not going to pretend this doesn’t sound appealing right now.” He says, a tinge of caution to his carefree tone. “But Syk... its going to set a standard. An impossible one. Nothing you do after this is going to feel the same. So I’ll ask you one more time-” he rears back, laying both servos on your shoulders “Are. You. Certain?”

That’s a good question. For literally anyone other than you, because you already know the answer. You’ve got very little to lose, other than this new body’s virginity. Hopefully to this chemically-induced non-asshole version of Airplane man, if you can scrape enough braincells together to tell him so.

While you’re scraping just that, you give his query some space from your spark and genitals you still aren’t totally certain how to use yet. Even with that space, you can’t find a reason to *not* get your seal ruptured and back blown out in a perfect replication of the nightclub your ex’s ex used to manage, complete with music and strung out NPCs. A handful of which a re literally cheering the two of you on and making obscene hand gestures.

The stars had already aligned once to bring you two back into each other’s lives. You’re not waiting till mercury falls into retrograde to for another chance to fuck this up.

“You are an impossible standard, and you know you are.” you tell him through gritted denta. “Sober or not, if we frag you’re gonna ruin me for anyone else. So go ahead-” you reach for his servos, plucking them from your shoulders and planting them firmly on your hips. “-and fucking ruin me.”

Starscream inhales sharply. Then jerks forward sharply. Then grabs your waist, pulls it against his and crashes his lips against yours once more sharply.

Softly, you yelp in surprise. Softly you melt into it, losing a fluttery moan as his servo slides down to the small of your back, holding you steady even while he pushes you down onto the stage. Quite loudly you whine as his other hand finds the base of your left wing, pinching them betwixt his thumb and index digit.

Erogenous zones in a truly alien bit of anatomy flare to life like a litebrite set, twinkling in a magically mundane fashion at the edges of your nervous system. It’s something like lips, nape of your neck, and inner thigh all twined into one nerve cluster wet nightmare, one that has you hooking your legs around his hips and squealing against his mouth as he dips you into the floor.

The squealing again, this time in pain as your flared right wing crimps miserably against the floor. Airplane man, to his credit immediately pulls your frame up off the floor and back against his body.

“Fold them in, my dear.” he says, breaking away from your lips to reach for the wing you’d nearly sat on, tucking it in against your frame. “It’s worth the extra effort, believe me.”

You, reeling both from the endorphins still crashing through your veins and from the visceral reminder you’re not at all used to this *new* prison for your soul, need a moment to form words. “I...okay.” you exhale, folding what rightfully feels like an extra, lightweight leg sutured into your back up and against it. “Is there...uh...anything else I should know about this uh, frame?”

“I’ll tell you as we go.” He rears back, optics softening even as they narrow. “I’m going to level with you, I’ll be getting a bit bossy. There’s simply no part of me that enjoys being subdued, I’m afraid. Primus knows I get enough of that treatment *outside* the berthroom.” He works his jaw for a moment, though wither that’s from less-than-fond memories or the quid he’d discarded prematurely, you’re not sure. Is...is that going to be a problem?”

If it is going to be a problem, it’s going to be your problem, because there’s no way in hell you’re backing out now. “I can do either.” You say with absolute sincerity, all too eager to pass your whip and chains to his hands. “Just gimme a safeword, and we’re good.”

The silken, serene smile returns to his flawless face. “Right then. What’s the name of that organic spice you used to make this sojourn possible?”

You squint your optics in thought, thinking back to the agonizing lab session literally less than 24 hours ago. “Pepper?”

“Then it’s pepper.” he cocks his helm. “I trust you know how to use it?”

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“Very well.” He pauses in thought for a moment, though only a moment, before that sweet grin takes a subtly capricious flavor. He detangles himself from you, rising to his peds only to step over your delightfully disheveled form, trapping you between his perfect legs. “I noticed you noticing these-” he runs both servos up his silver calves and thighs “-a fair bit more than the rest of me. Why don’t you start paying your tithes there, and this deity will make it worth your while?”

Honestly the payment sounds equal to or better than the eternal reward. But you don’t tell him that as you lower yourself to the floor in a reverent bow and press your mouth to the hollow of his ankle, plying the not-quite-entirely-solid metal between your lips. Then, when met with no resistance, sliding your glossa out and making long, urgent strokes beneath he ball of his ped.

Your god shudders, wincing pleasantly as he leans his weight back into the pole. “Oh my. Getting right down to business, are we? Not a shred of disobedience in you?”

“Nah.” you lift your helm to plant a kiss on the tip of his stiletto, before drawing your lips up to his calf, oh-so-carefully pinching the metal between your denta. The texture of either so vibrant tears nearly spring to your optics. How is he real. How. “Are you gonna punish me for being *too* good?”

“I’d be an awfully inconsiderate master to do that.” he gives a low hiss, then a not-so-subtle jerk of his hips, indicating his thighs are trying to clamp shut. “Unless that’s something you’re interested in?”

You take a moment to respond, preoccupied with nipping at the protomass exposed near the top of his legs. God the way his plating comes together makes them look like thigh-highs Wicked, steel, razor-sharp thigh highs. “Not especially.

“Then we’ll do the opposite.” he says, peering down at you, placing a reassuring servo atop your helm. “You’re doing an immaculate job, darling.”

At “darling” you find your thighs involuntarily clenching together, because of course.

Of course this dude’s into dolling out the praise he’s personally starved for. Of course *uplifting* those around him as apposed to grinding them into the carpet gets him going harder while he’s gliding. Of course he just introduced a sweet, gentle dominatrix fetish you didn’t know you needed in your kink catalog.

You loose a muffled growl against metal flesh, painfully aware of not only a throbbing ache between your legs, but also an uncomfortable pressure further towards the front. Jesus this is gonna take some getting used to.

“Oh frag.” he murmurs, optics half shuttered as you shift your weight to your knees, straightening to cup his ankle and ped in your palm as you press your lips to the back of his knee. He sinks further back against the pole, leaning his weight into the other leg. “Vector-fraggin’-sigma you’re good at this.”

You’re beginning to wonder if seeker legs serve as sexual soft spots the way wings do, or if that’s literally just a Starscream thing. Either way, the face he wears as you make sweet oral love to his struts is enough to throw you over the edge on your own. Or would be, if you could keep dry humping the floor. But a few precious inches further up in absolute territory is all that separates you from the panels covering his array, which at once weeps tears of shimmering lubricant through the metal and bows out in the front. The more malleable metal thinly veiling what in no uncertain terms is going to split you in half later.

Sinking your weight into your own peds, you raise yourself off the ground, making your way towards both of those things. Only for your vision to be obscured by splayed digits as he covers your face with a servo, pushing your helm away.

“Oh no, not yet. You stay down, my dear.” he purrs despite the hitch in his breath, eyeing you like a beloved cat trying to climb his leg.

Much like a cherished feline, you make a face as though you’ve been kicked across the room instead of gently reprimanded. “Okay.... How do I get to your valve or spike, then?”

“Hmmm. Good question.” he says, righting himself to stare contemplatively into the distance. And doing little more, loose smile still plastered on his face as he regards thin air with pleasant ambiguity. Even experienced dominatrixes have issues chasing the next command when rolling their tits off, you suppose.

Though he might be a bit further gone than that. After a few more moments of nothing but the confusing primal scream of your new genitals, you rap softly on his hip. “Hey, uh, my next command, master?”

“Oh scrap, right.” he startles, blinking not quite in stereo. “I was trying to calculate and...ah, hang on a moment.” He narrows his optics at the ceiling. ”How long ago did we start gliding?”

“Well…it kicked in right when we came in here.” you say, struggling with your own fractured memory. “And we were dancing together for a while before you started dancing. And you dragged me over to the mirror to”-turn me on with my own body you altruistic narcissist-“ make me feel better. And we were talking for a really long time before that, so maybe…two hour-“

“Ah ah ha. “He cuts you off with an index digit placed against your lips and a yeilding, good-natured sneer. “In cybertronian..”

You choke over your stuttering spark, because surprise surprise, that grammatical correction just turns you on even more. Stop trying to acclimate me sky daddy. “….A cycle?”

His optics flit towards the ceiling, chewing his lip in thought. “Ah. Well, that puts us at about the halfway mark, when our experience would begin to taper off and pull us molecule by molecule out of the Allspark. The operative word here being ‘would’.” He dips a servo into his subspace, emerging with a packet of dusky-blue granules that seem to pulse faintly in time with the bass in the background.

You raise an optical ridge, both the color and reactive properties recalling a skeleton you’d only partially memorized. “Is that…is that Nucleon-”

“-Nail in freebase form?” he finishes for you. “Yes actually, the very same you made for me. I salted it out of the injector this morning. Good job, by the way. Not that I expected anything less. It’s also our extended-stay pass to this neurochemical sanctuary. It’ll extended our glide for another cycle and a half, before hailing us in for a *much* smoother landing than without.”

“If it’s not in the injector...How do we take it?”

“Insufflated.”

Like you’d watched Knockout do with the circuit speeder. How delightfully trashy. “Do we need like…a mirror? Or a razorblade? Or like…a straw or something?”

With an expression you clock in at about 15 million degrees C, he laughs. “Oh no. We need only once another for this. And since you’ve been such a good pet, you’re going first.”

Gritting your denta worryingly tight and probably also the inside of your cheek, you watch as he retracts the front half of his array panel, allowing his spike to spring free. It bobs slightly, catching refractive light from the many mirrors, lasers and visualizers. With human eyes, you might’ve had a stroke trying to comprehend exactly what you’re looking at. Without them, you still might be having a stroke, with the deep carnelian and acid yellow biolights and nodes peppering the sides, the tip itself a dimly glowing ember in the relative darkness.

Syk nonwithstanding, it might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life. But *with* the Syk, burning light trails and tracers into the peripheral of your optics, you’re quite certain this is some sort of holy relic.

Venting rapidly, your priest kneels at your side, leaving you to watch stupefied as he spreads a generous bump’s worth of powder on the shaft near the base. He then grips the back of your helm, gently guiding you towards your sacrament. “Go ahead darling. You’ve earned it.”

Whelp. You didn’t exactly sign up for this when you agreed to manufacture illicit robot pharmaceuticals, but you also didn’t give your signature for anything else that’s happened. And the *anything else*, thus far, has been the most spontaneous, most fun, most healing night of your goddamn life. In for a penny, in for a glitch switch, I guess.

With herculean willpower to not simply wrap your intake around the head, you dutifully obey, hold one of your nostrils shut, using the other to clean the powder off of his cock.

It burns. Not terribly so, but enough to make you gasp, and your optics water. Panting and sniveling, you try once more to get to your feet only to be held down by one of Airplane man’s savagely sharp ones.

“Not quite yet. Give it time to hit, and once it does, stay put until the room stops spinning. Then you can get up.”

If the sight of his swollen, glowing dick inches from your face isn’t enough to make you cream your jeans, then the pressure of his heels against the back of your head might just be. “How long? For it to kick in, I mean.”

“Likely just long enough for my turn.” he says, dangling the baggie as an afterthought. “Lie down and roll over, my dear.”

You do precisely that, sinking down to the floor once more as a dull, chemical taste seeps into the back of your mouth. “Am I supposed to spit this out, or-?”

“If you please. It’ll be slightly easier on your filters.” He extends a talon to draw a circular gesture in the air. “Face down, aft up in the air, please.”

Growling under your breath, you do exactly that, burying your face in your folded arms while your legs strain to heft your ass upright. There’s a half-second delay between the order to move your limbs and their actual movement that’s making this simple command a fair bit more complex. Maneuvering yourself isn’t impossible, but it does take more concentration than you remember. As does keeping yourself in place as the floor and ceiling begin to undulate like a waterbed, or surfboard over choppy water.

Though that’s not what’s taking up the majority of your inebriated attention. No, that’s Starscream holding your hip with one servo, using the other to scatter powder onto the exposed protomass of your ass.

“Primus blessed, you are a marvel, you know that?” he purrs, closing the bag and slipping it back into storage.

Even with your face partially obscured, you struggle to tear your eyes away from his exposed chassis, slutty little waist and noxiously gorgeous spike bouncing in plain sight through the window of your legs. “I’m...I’m starting to believe it.”

He gives a deep chuckle, one that rolls through the hollow where your bones would be. Though it’s drowned out by the squeal you give as he digs his talons into the meat of your aft. Just fucking fucking wreck me already.

He lowers his helm, and you can feel both the hot air from his intake as he vacuums the powder off your ass and a second, unholy wave of “oh god fuck me *yes* washing over you like a tsunami. The nail must be kicking in. Though unlike the Syk, it carries with it a sort of benevolent aggression. You still want to dance, let the bass possess and move your body for you. Still want to get fucking railed by the saint that provided you with both, but you’ve less qualms insisting about either. You’re in a position to *demand* cuddle puddles, *demand* those puddles turn into a fuck castle. And if it doesn’t, that’s fine and well. Everyone’s gotta be on the same page about this, of course.

But long, arylcyclohexylamine derivatives aside, you’ve very little issue asking for the debauchery you desire.

“Oh god.” you bite into your servo, smothering a full blown whore moan. “God I need your dick in me so bad-!”

“Spike, my dear.” Corrects your deity. “And you haven’t even taken yours out yet.”

That’s a good point. One that’d be easier to illustrate if you knew how to do that. “Where’s my dick?” you whimper, fumbling blindly around the vicinity of your crotch.

Starscream looks at you with the genuine compassion one would have for a neutered companion animal. “Oh, you are adorable.” he crooks his finger, ushering you forward. “A bit closer, and I’ll be happy to show you-oh frag.”

His optics widen, helm tilting downward as the Nail presumably barges into his system with a battering ram and war cry. He leans his back into the pole, sliding towards the floor. “Oh my. Oh yes. Oh frag me yes this is fragging perfect-!”

His helm lolls back for a second, chassis slowly heaving as his nervous systems finds it’s feet in this neurochemical balancing act. You watch his gorgeous face melt into a caricature of pure bliss, before sliding those sunset-red, newly hungry optics over to you, flitting from your face, the juncture of your bodies, to his spike, still twitching viciously erect in the velvet in the air between you.

“Still want me to show you around your array, pet?” he hooks an arm under your leg, both to pull you against him and dip his talons into the seam between your inner thigh and valve panel.

The tips of his talons send cold lightning bursting through the outer lips of your pussy and well up into your belly. You gasp, choking back, then on a whine as it escapes your lips. “Yes. Please please please yes.”

“And you seem awfully intent on attending to this.” he says, retracting the razor-sharp plating of his claws to expose smooth, slender, probably extraordinarily dexterous fingers to cradle the length of his cock, pumping them in a slow, languid motion.

“I might actually die if you don’t let me put that thing in my mouth.” you say without a shred of sarcasm, being terminally deficient in a form of vitamin d the sun can’t possibly provide.

His lip curls into a smirk, exposing a sliver of perfect denta as he slides forward. “Well, we don’t want that happening again, do we? So by all means-” he draws his free servo up your leg to your inner thigh, slipping those smooth, blunted fingers into the dripping seams of your panel to not just retract them, but sink *into* the freshly exposed, soaking wet folds of your pussy. All the while clutching the back of your helm, pulling your face down flush with the weeping head of his spike.

“-Go ahead, my dear.”

[cheschesterpossum]

Maybe the lil shijs aren't so bad

[witchofthesouls]

I like to think that there's some humanity's weirdness that followed the ex-retailer's cyberization:

Seems to be more like a Polyhexian Seekerkin as you're suitable for aquatic environments

Your protoform and armature have a greater degree of resistance to salinity and rust

A great tolerance to many toxins and temperature

Has resistance to metal-eating bacteria

A far more efficient system that's capable of extra energy and resources as you can consume other things that Cybertronians can't

Specialized platelets that converts solar into energy. Minor, though.

A distinct lack of biolights. You seem to have more varied textures and/or coloration on your protoform (i.e., moles, freckling, visible Blaschko's lines)

Far more flexible compared to baseline Cybertronians

The ability to walk around very quietly

A very broken Danger Sense to the average Cybertronian

This is all because of a potential running gag where Nautilator is constantly terrified because you keep catching him in his lobster alt-mode, and you mutter all the potential plans to cook said lobster because you're dying for shellfish.

[ran5066]

I just woke up, took my phone and drew this

[sometimes-you-write]

[ Look at my DNI before interacting with my blog, please ]

[ Transformers Animated ]

[ you can decide if Reader is a human or a cybertronian ]

Reader: Can I tell you something?

Ratchet: Sure, why not?

Reader: Okay, so… yesterday, I overheard Bulkhead saying “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and Bumblebee replying “Trust me".

Ratchet: …

Reader: And let me tell you, I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.

Ratchet: *sighs and facepalms* Those two…

[justarandomweeb]

Yandere LL x Earth Liaison Reader

No beta read we die like fucking men and I swear I'm a dummy in English (not a first language) OH YEAH the characters might be a bit ooc since I haven't finished mtmte

Edit: um chat... this shit was not supposed to be posted um- whoops I guess??? I can't take this shit out um, I thought Tumblr ate this drabble, turns out I accidentaly posted it???

'FUCK FUCK FUCK!' a lone human curse in their head as they crouch walk inside the vents, navigating the never ending maze, watching your steps and sound. You knew those bots have good hearing, but they're not your priority to be worrying. It was Skids and those with him inside the vents, you can hear the heavy bodies thuding and thumping. He knew the ship like the back of his hand, you would say. You could have used your inbuilt digital map over the paper map you crudly and hastily drew, but you knew it would be a matter of time before Perceptor or who over is smart enough hacks into your watch and pings your location.

You wished you would've seen the signs, no...

You wished you had never dreamed of meeting aliens as a child, riding a rocket ship, and fly through space. You wished you never pushed so hard for that silly dream that soon became a nightmare.

Yet, you were blind to it. Ignoring the signs, thinking, 'Oh, it must be a cultural thing' or 'They probably are curious about humans and our culture, most of them haven't met one.' The ones who didn't liked organics in general became more softer, yet possessive as the rest of others. The prisoners coaxed you to free them from their cells, just so they'd 'express' their love. The enemies bribing you to join them, promising you unbroken loyalty and adoration.

Those innocent questions became... intimate and invasive.

Megatron, he didn't want to be near you. You didn't know if it's out of guilt or a still prejudice against the organics. You knew his history, the war, and the devastating impacts he caused. You were willing to give him a chance. You talked to him. At first, it was one-sided, and then he replied back, with small answers, acknowledgments, and comebacks. You'd tease him when you saw a small smirk. He'd deny. You joined his poetry sessions, exchanging poetry to one another, critiquing and praising each other. You'd read him classic human literature, and he'd read you cybertronian literature in those moments it was just you and him. When did it all go wrong...

Ultra Magnus he intimidated you, a big guy with those stern eyes and broad shoulders. Of course, a big man like him would be the goody to shoes, abid to the law like its his only identity. You thought you could never relate to him outside of work, that he and you will never understand one another. You'd talk when the air was empty. You'd tell him about the dumb decisions you've made when you were a kid, stealing gums and candies, sneaking in an abandoned building with friends, attending street racing, laughing at your own idiocy and stupid antics, but you reminisce the bond you had with your friends. Ultra Magnus would criticize your actions, listing all of the laws and rules you've broken. But this time, he just listened, didn't list down your crimes, keeping quiet. You don't know what he was thinking other than the possible charges you'd have if you'd have gotten caught. When did it go wrong...

When you first met Rodimus, he reminded you of a frat boy who was given leadership in a silver plate. Not taking anything seriously, meteor surfing, delaying his reports, not even paying attention half of the time on the meetings. You'd chase him down, trying to get his attention. You've felt like a mother trying to discipline an unruly child, but this child is giant fucking robot leading an expedition in outerspace. That what you'd have thought of him, till you saw his struggles. The guilt of the deaths of crewmates, what he could have done if he did things differently. You'd shoulder his burdens, cradling his helm. You'd look at him eye to eye, telling him not to blame himself that he did what he could. You'd help him out with reports. You'd hold his giant servos that it helped him be grounded on the meetings. You'd laugh at his jokes, bite back with scarastic comebacks. You final smiled at him, when those days where he feels down, you'd let him in your lap again. When did it go wrong...

You've been invited to the movie sessions with the Minicons, sharing your favorite movies and series with them. You'd hang out with Rung, help him build his miniature spacescrafts, sitting quietly with him during the sessions of his patients and letting them hold you. It felt therapeutic for them. You'd help out on medbay reaching through the cracks of patients to close the delicate wires, medics freeting over you after a successful operation. You'd gossip with them and talk about the stupid antics those bots done to be sent to medbay, trying to knock sense on those daredevils.

Your time at Lost Light was up. You wished you've stayed longer, but you definitely missed home. Your family and friends are waiting for your return. You were walking through the corridors to the meeting room to talk about your retirement when you heard yelling from the cracks of the doors.

"Can't we destroy their space bridge? Brainstorm and Perceptor can make it seem it malfunctioned. Even blow it up completely for safe measures. Besides, it's the only space bridge that connects to Earth directly."

"Rodimus please, we can't do this to them."

"Please, Mags, I know you'd don't want them gone too! I can see the way you looked at them Mags, you love them too like I do. We all do here. The crew would help out Mags, I talked to everybody on the comms, so please do it for us."

You can't believe what you're hearing, why won't they let you go home. You turn around to see three mechs, your eyes water over the betrayal. You ran before they can catch you, diving into the vents for refuge. You can hear them telling everybody you ran away, you're scared. You didn't ask for this. You're regretting everything. Maybe you should have stayed at home, be a boring office worker over being chased by crazy giant bots who refuse to let you go home.

You wonder... When Did It Go Wrong.

[love-and-war-on-cybertron]

Could I request NSFW of Jazz, Armada Starscream, TFP Knockout or Rodimus/Hot Rod being curious about a female reader with a bigger chest? You can pick any I just wanna let you choose whichever seems more interesting! 🩷🩷🩷

I see so many poste about them liking readers being soft, but never really about breasts, I assumed they'd find the softness fascinating.

Count how many times I wrote the word breast:

I went with Jazz and Hot Rod. N/$/4/W. Nothing too explicit, Hot Rods less so. Also No beta. Had fun writing this.

Jazz:

Humans were rather squishy compared to Cybertronians. One grip too hard and squish. Flesh would give under the slightest of pressure, with some resistance to the boney areas. It was still nothing compared to his own metal plating.

Jazz was observant, and through that observation he learned some things about humans. They, like cyebrtronains, came in many shapes sizes and colors. But some of them had round and bouncy somethings on their chests. He assumed it was just their own bit of kibble, just some extra bits. These too, came in various sizes and shapes.

But not like yours.

Jazz couldn't stop himself from starring. How could he not? Every step you took, turn, and even when you laughed, they would bounce. He liked to make you laugh, but now he had more motivation to crack jokes around you. He liked to stare, and you knew he liked to stare. You made it more interesting for him to stare.

Playing with the collar of your shirt, or wearing low cut blouses. He wasn't sure why, but the hot summer day you ran an icecube over you neck and cleavage has his own system over heating. Had to go drive and get some steam out after that.

When fate, or luck, or maybe mutual interest finally got you alone, he got to finally see them uncovered. A bit too eager to take his time, Jazz peels your shirt away with careful servos. Didn't want to rip it, you already threatened to kick his aft if that happened.

the shirt comes off and he is gawking. The curve, the swell, the peak. the way they sat so differently now that you werent wearing anything. He takes a moment to just marvel at them while you lean back on your hands. Jazz could only think of one thing to do with them.

Such pretty sounds came out of your mouth when he put his mouth around one. Mesh glossa flickering over the hardened nipple as you arch and put a hand on his helm. He could do this all day. A servo on one of your tits, the other in his mouth. they really are soft, softer than he expected and it makes him moan around the flesh. When he takes the stiff nipple between his denta, you whine and warn him not to bite.

"Oh don't worry sweet-spark, when I bite, you'll like it." Not iff, when. He could already picture how it would feel to carefully leave his mark. Maybe your thigh, or hip. He wouldn't dream of bruising your beautiful tits.

With a pop, he switches over to the other, Lubricant coating your flesh. Jazz hums in appreciation seeing your grab and play with them yourself. He pulls back, watching, wondering. Could he rut his spike between them?

Hot Rod:

He was taking advantage of the situation, that much you were VERY aware of. It was cold, you were even colder without a jacket, and Hot Rod was very, very warm. All of the bots were, but he was especially so. You hadn't planned on being in the snow without a jacket, and Prime was apologizing profusely when he got you back to base.

Shivering, teeth chattering, you assured the Leader that it was perfectly fine. Hot Rod volunteers to warm you up, and now you were sat in his lap, one servo holding you against his chassis. You sunk back against him, soaking in that warmth when you noticed it the first time. The subtle brush of his digit against your chest. Just his servo flexing, you told yourself. Then it happened again.

He must have thought he was being subtle, not thinking about how his size makes it far from subtle for you, but he was coping a feel. You shake your head. No no... He was curious, hadn't had a lot of time with humans. he was curious.

The edge of his thumb brushes downward, pausing when he feels you nipples poking through the shirt. You should say something. Another soft press. You might want to say something. It's awkward, but the tip of his middle digit is circling one of your nipples. You should really say something if you want this to stop.

The Mech keeps poking and subtly squeezing your chest, getting a little bolder by your lack of response. You could feel your cheeks go warm when he started pushing your breasts up before letting them drop. Even leaning over you to watch them bounce. You want to say something, but Hot Rod chuckles, watching and you don't have the heart. You bite your lip and try to tell yourself it doesn't feel nice.

"What are these?" He asks, putting both massive hands around you. There is a digit on each breast, massaging them. It feels kind of nice, but you gotta stop this, he doesn't understand.

"Hot Rod-" You put a hand over his digits that push and squeeze your chest. He doesn't seem to realize your trying to stop the movement. It's gentle so it doesn't hurt. It feels nice, "These are breasts and you really shouldn't do that.

"Do what?" The massive bot curls over you more, and the heat intensifies.

"Touch them." You breath hitches as he some how manages to pinch the nipples delicately enough to not hurt them. Again, and your jerk with a whimper.

His touch pauses, optics flash and cooling fan clicks on, "Oh?"

Hot Rod keeps you pressed against him, but doesn't move. You're squirming from embarrassment and a heat in your core. Overly warm, craving it and wanting this awkwardness to stop.

"Can I see them?"

Oh this got so much more embarrassing.

"What?"

"You humans cover yourselves right?" He fingers the collar of your shirt, unintentionally making your head tip back, "Can I see them? I noticed yours are bigger than others."

"Some bots have bigger chests." You retort, shivering as his digit keeps pulling down at your collar.

"We don't cover up." His other digit runs over your nipple again. "Whats this?"

"If I show you will you drop it?"

Hot Rod pulls his servos away, still hovering near you. a smile on his face plates as he nods. He is way to eager for this. way too eager for how... innocent he seems about this.

You grumble to yourself before reaching for the edge of your shirt, glancing around. No one else was in here. You hope it stays that way. In one quick swoop, you pull the shirt off. Damnit, should have worn a cute bra today. Why do you care? It's a robot? This was just an old bra that was slightly too small.

Hot Rod makes a noise that may have been cooing. "More coverings?"

"Yeah.... I need it."

"Why?" He rubs a bra strap, trying to get it off your shoulder. He tsks when you smack his digit before reaching behind yourself to unhook it. He makes that noise again when your tits spill out. He is quick to touch again, cupping them with his thumbs.

"Hey! You said See!"

He makes a pouting face, still gently pressing. "Hey, not my fault they're even softer than the rest of you. Too tempting."

His metal was hot on your skin. Were you warm from him, or..

"You... you should stop." You hands rest on the junction that would be his wrist.

"Why?" Hot Rod asks, curling more, leaning close. Caging you in. "Because you like it?"

You can't respond with more than another whimper. Oh he was completely aware, huh?

Hot Rod smiles, happy to keep using you like a stress ball. Cooing and squeezing. Trying to see how else he could get those little sounds out of you.

[revelboo]

would you ever think about writing something with the elite trine/starscream, thundercracker, and skywarp x a human reader ...... perchance .......... i am a hungry little peasant child, digging for scraps of poly trine x reader on the side of the road which is called tumblr .......... [TAKE UR TIME . OR DONT DO THE REQUEST ITS OKAY SERIOUSLY !!!!!!!!! GENUINELY YOURE SUCH A GOOD WRITER AND ITS SO INSANE THAT THE STARSCREAM X READER HCS HAS 33 POSTS ...... SINGLE HANDEDLY FEEDING US STARSCREAM LOVERS]

All I heard was reverse harem Seeker smut 🌶️ 18+ no plot here. Mass displaced mechs

Trine x Reader- sharing (stand-alone)

• Big servos flex against your hips and pull you back against a warm frame. It’s the feel of denta gripping your shoulder hard enough to bruise that gives away that it’s Skywarp. Little stinging nips along the curve of your neck that are intended just to make his brothers angry. Marking you. One of his big hands slides up to curl around your throat, the other down your front.

• Biting again as he cups your slick flesh, you make that little breathy sound of need that drives him crazy. Hips rocking against his hand in invitation and he’s generous today, not teasing. Pressing a servo into you and stroking until you’re moving against him to ride his palm. So needy. “You started already?” Growling as he looks over at Thundercracker, he nips that soft skin again, ignoring the question. He’d never shared anything very well. Star can be as angry as he likes after he’s finished with you. Withdrawing that slick servo earns him a little noise of protest, but as he urges you down, bending you over, you submit willingly. Needing this as much as he does. Wings lifting stiffly as he tries to ignore Thundercracker watching, he buries his spike in your wet heat.

• Groaning as he drives deep, you feel his servos tighten on your hips and then he’s rutting against you. Rough and fast, almost too much. And he’s growling in your ear, a rumbling stream of Cybertronian you can’t understand as he claims you, his bigger body caging yours. What’s it say about you that you don’t mind being shared by them? That your body responds the same way to all three Seekers. Hunger and heat. Skywarp shifts against you, thrusts becoming more urgent to send heat coiling through you. Impatient, hard strokes and then his rhythm falters and he bites again, hard enough to break the skin. The sharp sting tangling with the pleasure to drive you over the edge as he buries himself deep to release.

• Thundercracker watches Skywarp drag his glossa against your shoulder, his red optics bright as he slides out, a hand stroking affectionately down your spine. “Such a good pet,” Skywarp chuckles, teasing. Thundercracker knows he needs to wait for Starscream, that he’s going to be mad enough, but as you roll onto your back, thighs parted and slick, he’s moving without thinking. Dragging you to the edge so your legs hang over and burying his spike inside you. Curling himself over you, he rolls his hips and slides a hand under the back of your head. Lifting you enough he can reach and explore your mouth as he lazily rocks himself inside you. Taking his time to tease you both.

• For being the most affectionate of the three, Thundercracker’s mouth is pure sin. That glossa of his stealing inside, turning that warm kiss into something urgent and wholly at odds with the slow stroke of that big spike buried inside you. If Skywarp has no control, Thundercracker has too much. Your body heating again, needing more and being denied. Hooking your legs around his waist to buck your own hips against him, chasing that high he’s denying you.

• “Again?” Starscream vents as he lets himself inside and scowls. Skywarp laughs from where he’s sprawled, servos curled lazily about his own spike watching Thundercracker and their human. As annoyed as he is with them, he’s not too surprised. It’s so easy to rile you up. Always so eager and needy. Able to keep up with their needs. Thundercracker growls, hips moving faster, the wet sound of their bodies meeting mingling with the little noises of their human lost in passion. Your head thrown back, thighs trembling as Thundercracker bucks into you, his wings shuddering with his own release.

• Your body is still humming pleasantly as Thundercracker pulls away with one last kiss against the corner of your mouth. Head back and heart racing, you tremble as servos curl around your knee. Starscream, his expression calculating as he takes in your sweat slick skin and the mess his brothers have made. His expression growing tight before it passes. The complaint doesn’t come as he vents and buries himself inside you, that familiar spike stretching you. Bowed over you, thrusting deep his optics hold your eyes. And somehow your tired body responds for him, winding up again. Needing this. Him.

• Eyes dark with passion stare up at him as he takes you. Sometimes he regrets agreeing to share you. Wishes he’d kept you to himself, but he doesn’t regret how sharing you has mended the strain between them. You’re his. Always will be, but theirs too. Rutting against you, feeling your soft hands on him, he knows this is right. A trine united over something precious that they need to protect at all costs. Wings trembling as he pounds into your wet heat, he chases after as you arch under him, moaning his name as you milk his spike. Shattering.

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

yandere Hc/scenario In every soundwave you know please!!!! Everyday I'm craving for his content... although I'm more into human but I guess I could open to all kind like cybertronian s/o too

I'll be doing Prime, One and Earthspark since those are the versions I know best! (´▽｀Uu) I would do Animated too - but I know little of the series and only more about Optimus, Bee and Starscream.

（*＾-＾*）

Yandere!Soundwave (Headcanons) (TFP, TFO & TFE)

WARNINGS: Yandere behaviour. Mentions of stalking, kidnapping, obsessive ideas/thoughts. Reader is human (TFp & TFE) and Cybertronian (TFO) and gender neutral.

TRANSFORMERS PRIME: SOUNDWAVE

A possessive yandere that stalks and recollects everything about his beloved S/O.

Soundwaves was sure he would come to hate humans - they were like... parasites, too primitive. Inferior.

And yet - you were not like the other humans. You were... more.

Perfect, ethereal, unique - Soundwave was sure he caught a glitch or something, but his spark would beat at the rythm of your own heartbeat (Soundwave was sure his spark and your heart were bonded, connected - synchronized) whenever he got to see you.

Sadly, the Autobots got you before you and him got to meet like true sparkmates, as you accidentally saw one fight between the vehicons and that yellow autobot.

Soundwave got to see you when he connected with one of the vehicons and saw through their optics... oh, precious you.

To this day, Soundwave is not sure what made him fall overpedes for you - and that frustrastes him as it is the only knowledge he doesn't possess.

Definitely stalks you if you have any type of presence on the internet, no matter if you are a private user or an influencer.

Everything about you - any photo, any username, any post, e-mail, ubication, everything about you rests now deep inside of his system as data, and he keeps collecting more and more.

Soundwave would manage to kidnap you after sending you a false message under the impression it was from any of the autobots that tasked you to meet somewhere so they could take you to the base.

Before you could yell for help, you were already snatched.

Every little reaction, sound, mannerism, body language - anything is getting recorded and Soundwave is just so fascinated.

Treats you like the most fragile thing in the whole universe.

Allows himself to be selfish and keep you in his arms, working and from time to time, look down at you and place a kiss emoji in his mask.

Escaping is a far away dream of yours now - Soundwave knows everything and hears everything, and he made sure to not let you see anything about the Nemesis when he brought you to his quarters.

You are trapped - like a precious butterfly inside of a glass case.

"Soundwave: loves dearly S/O. Soundwave: knows everything about S/O. S/O: Soundwave's sparkmate."

TRANSFORMERS EARTHSPARK: SOUNDWAVE

Earthspark Soundwave gives me the vibes of a yandere that starts obsessing with you out of hate.

He wants to hate you - you were a human! A human like G.H.O.S.T (even when you were not related to that organization) that locked him and his fellow teammates after that traitor of Megatron betrayed all of them!

Changing a little bit the Earthspark's story - you and Soundwave crossed paths when Soundwave managed to escape from G.H.O.S.T's HQ - it was at night, and he was trying to find somewhere to hide.

Like the Maltos, many people in Witwicky had their homes in the forest. And it just happened that you had a home like that, too. Soundwave managed to hide behind it - and by Primus' choice, you were still wide awake right at 3 AM.

You would have screamed in fear at the sight of a giant robot - but you quickly catched on at how he just seemed to be trying to hide, not attacking you or anything. And when you heard many cars pulling right outside of your home.

Soundwave was just about to start running again, but when he heard the front door open and you come out, already screaming your lungs out to the agents to leave your property and such, managing to even scare them off as you didn't allow them to speak or anything.

"Threaten me all you want - it is 3 freaking AM and you are all suddenly just arriving to my property! I will call my lawyers and the town's mayor!" You yell as the agents finally leave. And you turn to the tall robot who peaks his helm from the back of your house. "Uh... you can stay - just, do not get those weirdos back or something. Good night."

Ugh! How Soundwave loaths you! With your boring life and your sympathy and your will to keep him hidden and stay at your territory! Your human behaviour, always telling him he could count with you, that you could be a shoulder to cry on and how you always give him that kind smile and those reassuring words, and...

In a few days and night, Soundwave becomes a protective, obsessive yandere who is not afraid of destroying others if it means to keep you safe.

Is not afraid of snatching you from your home and life the moment Optimus, Megatron and the others find out about his whereabouts and about you.

Vows silently to protect you with his own life - he was gonna shed the energon of others and his own to keep you safe and sound.

Cry and beg all you want to Soundwave about letting you go - he is not going to do so, dear. He is keeping you safe, he is keeping you far away from the same bots who ruined his life.

He is not gonna let them take you away from him - his new light of hope, his new reason to live and fight.

TRANSFORMERS ONE: SOUNDWAVE

You and Soundwave have known each other from a long time ago.

You two worked together, and you two followed the High guard after defecting from the False Prime's orders after witnessing all the horrible things he did and the murder of the Primes.

Many times you grieved after watching the fall of the Primes, knowing all of you were now in danger if Sentinel Prime and his followers found you all, no longer able to go home and knowing so many innocents were suffering at the hands of that monster.

Soundwave held you closer as you cried against his chesplate, trying to whisper you hopeful words... but he was slowly spiraling in a sea of despair and that sensation of everything seeming lost.

A delusional, overprotective yandere - with the pass of time, he starts to actually believe you two are the conjux of the other.

Doesn't leave you alone - he is always by your side or keeping you with him.

If he was already too protective before, with the arrival of those four bots from Iacon and the sight of how one of them nearly ended Starscream, Soundwave became ten times more protective - and add another 100 times when they were attacked by Sentinel Prime's people.

Imagine the despair and down righ madness if Soundwave witnessed you being one of the bots that got taken back to Iacon.

He might have actually... killed a few bots when he got into Iacon to fight back against Sentinel Prime's defenses.

When he found you, he hugged you so tightly and promised to protect you - he promised to kill anyone who ever tried to take away his beloved conjux.

You become a precious gem - when he leaves to follow Megatron after he is vanished from Iacon, he takes you with him, and you comply.

It was the mech you've known for so many years!

... But you can't help but be afraid at the fact that... the Soundwave you knew has changed.

And you decided to kept silence whenever he would whisper to you sweet, protective and delusional promises - you are his conjux, after all. He has to protect you, and he is not afraid of beheading anybot who stands in his way.

Can you believe I couldn't find a good TFO Soundwave gif here on tumblr? Tumblr, help me out, man. (╬▔皿▔)╯Vhaos out!

[jinuaei]

Yandere Tarn x human Reader

Warning: OOC! NOT COMIC ACCURATE I ONLY KNOW A LITTLE BIT ABOUT THE LORE ALSO IGNORE THE TIME DIFF I KNOW ITS LIKE MILLIONS OF YEARS BETWEEN PRE WAR AND POST WAR. Spoilers for Tarn lore?

Imagine being Tarn’s first ever human he has met when he was still Damus, you being a cute human Liaison that follows around Senator Shockwave who also brings you around the Academy. You are an adorable, curious little thing, always so eager to see the different bots’ outlier abilities and wanting to know how it works, and Damus’ ability was the one that caught your eye. And he too is smitten with you from the very first time he laid optics on you, but he respects the Senator so much that he tends to shy away from actively seeking you out. 

However, you don’t seem to fear the large bots that could squish you with one of their pedes considering you’ve been persistently seeking him out even when he tries to hide away from you. In the end, he could not escape the temptation that is you.How could he? When you are so persistent in getting to know him, even to the point where you would sneak off to find him —He feels honoured whenever you do so, so special that you chose him out of all the students to befriend— He cannot do much to entertain you, but you seem to enjoy seeing him use his abilities to annoy bots by shutting their stuff off, mostly datapads and what not.

Both of you enjoy each other's company so much, sharing stories and knowledge. He finds himself especially invested in human arts, mainly music, it’s much different than Cybertronian music, it’s softer, less robotic, more organic, it’s so…you. He likes to hear you sing, even when you are humble with your abilities, he thinks of it as perfect. He cannot help but adore music that comes out from your mouth. Ah yes, your mouth, your language’s equivalent to the word ‘intake’. He remembers you saying something about kisses and how humans do it to show affection, but Cybertonians never had something similar to that so he does not pay mind to it. But he cannot deny how much he wants you to do it to him, especially when you mentioned something about it can be ‘intimate’ at times.

His days are always bright whenever you come to visit, your small body tucked close to the Senators frame, so talkative and friendly. He also notices the matching colours of your drapes with that of Shockwaves colour of the week, he observes that he enjoys seeing you in purple more than that of any other colour. Gifts seem to be common for you, as you seem to give him lots of small trinkets, but his favourite is a purple scarf that you gave him after he expressed how much he likes that colour on you.

Somehow, you managed to put in a good word about yours and Damus’ excursions considering Senator Shockwave has approached him himself to entrust your safety to the student whenever he is too busy to show you around. And of course, Damus has taken that role seriously, so seriously in fact that the other students you are also close with seem to avoid you all together whenever he is there. Always watching, always looming over your small form.

But then Senator Shockwave got caught, forced to undergo through Empurata and Shadowplay, and he did not find you ever since. He did not find comfort from your presence when he woke up after being subjected to the same fate as his teacher, stripped from his identity as Damus, now Glitch. But even his faceplate has been replaced, forced to be faceless, to be a nobody, his processor still kept the memories of the only person that knows him, the true him, him as Damus and not Glitch. You…You, you, YOU. His dearest human.

He remembers a conversation about your world's religion, about how many there are that exist on your planet, and how anybody can create a religion by just believing in it. And he does, in you. Creating a religion where you are his god and he is your most devoted follower – a religion where only he is to worship you.

Perhaps if he prayed enough, devoted himself enough to you, you will return, just like how yours has 3 days after his death. But you never did. Still, he prays to you daily, even when under Optimus’ care he did not forget to call for you, and while he uses his spare time to read Megatron's manifesto, he always makes sure to pray to you every day, every hour, every minute, that he has.

He even made a small shrine for you that he carries around on his frame via a small box. Inside are everything that you have ever given him, especially the scarf, and a picture of you both that you took with your Instant camera. He keeps that locked tight, like it’s his most valuable treasure — which as a bot who has close to nothing, is.

That habit of praying to you has persisted even when he adapted the persona of Tarn, even after he has stayed with Decepticons, he does not forget to pray to you every chance he gets. The items that he so carefully took care of are slowly degrading, piece by piece, thread by thread, all the cherished objects are turning into dust. Time does not spare anything from its cruel grasp, the picture that showcased you and him as Damus is slowly fading, his claws scraping off its print bit by bit. He fears that he will destroy the remaining memories of you, just like how he destroys every mech that he encounters. So after the scarf has turned into scraps, your face scraped off, he finally kept that box containing everything that you are close to his spark where it would stay until his end.

However, there is one thing that he cannot destroy no matter how much he has desecrated it, using it during his hunts to please him and his comrades. Music. His love of music is also a show of his devotion towards you, to say that yes, he remembers your music and your voice. And at times, when he is especially in a good mood, he would sing the same songs that he learnt from you to one of his victims. Though he would become aggressive right after the last note – realizing that they do not deserve to hear your song. In that case, he does not talk to them to death, instead he would pummel them into scraps, spilling energon all over him.

Millions of years have passed and his devotion only grew stronger, and oh how his prayers have finally been answered! You have returned! Though it was not 3 days but millions of years, he still rejoices as you are now back! His god! His beloved! And now he does not have to stay loyal to the Decepticons as you are now back with him! But the only problem is… he can see you on the other side of the battlefield, with the Lost Light, with Rodimus, with him– Megatron.

And now he realizes why Megatron has betrayed the Decepticon cause, perhaps like him, he has found his true purpose on the side of the good. But Tarn can never be good, he has done so much in the name of the Decepticons, in the name of righteousness, in your name. 

Even so, he can repent, renounce his identity as a Decepticon and come crawling back to you if you so wish. He can start his redemption by killing all of the DJD members right in front of you, or maybe you would want him stripped off of his armour, being laid bare for everyone to see.  Whatever you want, he will do it.

So he crosses the field with new found focus, optics trained on you. He ignores all of the weapons trained on him and keeps his pedes from shaking in nervousness. The more neurotic bots shoot at him, but he did not raise his blaster to shoot back nor did he try to defend himself. He only had one goal, and it was to get to you.

Once he finds himself in front of you, being guarded by Megatron and Rodimus, he kneels, unable to hold himself above you, his chassis lowered until his helm presses against the rough terrain. Energon pooled under him from the wounds he sustained.

When he utters your name, you seem perplexed, as if surprised at how this large bot knows you. And he spills everything, about who he is now, his prayers, his shrine, his millions of years of devotion. As he looks up at you from the floor, your face twists into confusion, baffled at this obsessed mech that you have never met in your human life.

Perhaps it was years of not seeing each other, but you looked…different somehow, still similar to his memories of you, but oddly different, it's small, but noticeable to him who has been so devoted to you and made sure to memorize every single part of your face. Nonetheless he did not care what so ever, what matters is he can finally serve you again, he might not be your Damus anymore, but he can be your Tarn.

The mask that he has worn for so long slipped off from his faceplate, and he drops it unceremoniously right next to him. He does not care if the bots think of him as an embarrassment or weak, all he knows is that you need to know about how much he adores you.

His faceplate lowers towards your pedes– feet, as you have taught him ages ago, and kisses it, just as you told him how one would do it, again and again until you can feel his love for you, his longing, his adoration, and his years and years of worship.

Until he repents, until you accept him back into your life. Until all that he has, and all that he is, is finally yours.

________________________________________________________

Uhhh uhhh I don't know if this is coherent.

[tinydefector]

Starscream - Rut Cycle

Starscream x Human reader

Warnings: Smut, Porn, Giant/tiny, size difference, Mating cycles, Heat cycle, Oral, fingerings, penetration.

Word count: 2.7k

Wooooo finally got this piece done, I hope you all enjoy how snarky and pissy Starscream is but he's also not willing to ask anyone else for help with his issue.

Request are Open please read my pinned post for rules.

Masterlist and Rules

Rut cycle masterlist

Starscream Masterlist

_____________

 Both factions tried their best to avoid each other as much as possible with the many cybertronians. But it's the little human from earlier which catches Starscream's attention. They are peacefully unaware of his burning gaze on them despite the sweet scent that came from their smaller frame, making him nearly snarl with want. Had it been any other time his optics wouldn't even flicker on their frame, but the cybertronian rut had him eager to find a way to let off charge and the organic responsible for igniting such foreign urges within his circuits during the meeting is what he has set his gaze upon.

According to his studies of indigenous species during past orbital observations, he knew rut pheromones held little effect on humans, but they had a constant scent which seemed to almost enhance. It stimulated his circuits, even had his processor strained to restrain. His joints clenched hotly fans blasting full force to try and cool his frame as  hot air blasted from his vents as he musings of folding those smaller limbs beneath his bulk. 

 It was a ridiculous notion, of course. Yet denying base coding risked compromising not only his system functions and level-headed trine, his trine were already on edge within these crowded quarters.

The mech released another steady exvent. Violence wasn't going to solve anything during their rut, as much as Starscream despised cooperation with the Autobots, this truce was meant to benefit all where interests aligned. The Red and blue seeker stalks behind the human waiting for the best opportunity to snatch them up. 

said human look up when they hear the loud steps echoing from behind them, eyes widening almost in horror as Starscream wraps a servo around them before whisking them off into one of the empty offices of the Ark. Their cry falls silent when Starscream shoots them a glare, wiggling in his hold, until they eventually give up.  

Starscream's engine rumbled ominously as his smouldering optics fell upon the lone organic within his grasp. According to his analysis, their frame is rather suited for  interfacing, yes it carried risk mainly to their much smaller frame but due to increasing heat building up in Starscream's system he lacked the time to care. He needed an outlet, and the sweet pheromones teased his nasal systems made a rumble emit from his cockpit. 

“Cease your writhing.” he Grumbles while dropping them on the desk in a corner. “Remain cooperative and no harm shall befall you,” his low voice assured. Optics scaling  down their body as he inspects and finds that they would do. 

They let out a yelp as they are dropped on the table, looking up at him, taking a moment to try and scurry away only for Starscream to grab their leg and drag them back. They shout in shock before their body is still just laying on the table looking up at him. "What screamer do you want? Screamer! " their voice is shaky before the anger seeps throught into their words as they glare up at the seeker. 

Starscream's optics glowed with sadistic amusement as they futilely struggled in his grip. This one had spirit, while limited by its primitive form, offered finer entertainment than most of its inferior kind. He had to admit their frame was rather to his liking, For a fleshling. 

Starscream doesn't even answer before his helm leans down very close to their frame, taking a deep intake of their scent, letting it filter through his systems, another deep rumble leaves him as his digits begin clawing at their clothing. 

They nearly squeal as he leans in closer. "Stop! I'll scream and every Autobot in the Ark will storm in here!" They stammer out, it makes Starscream pause for a moment. optics narrowing as the small creature issued its threat. drawing unnecessary confrontation while in Autobot territory wasn't something he needed less so when his coding was sending him into full rut. 

Removing his face from against their body, Starscream purred disdainfully, "Your posturing amuses me. But alerting your beloved autobot protectors benefits neither of us." His talons idly traced nonthreatening patterns as charged energy lingered in his field. 

Their jaw clenches as they glare up at him, heaving in breaths. "What, do you want Starscream?" They try to sound menacing but due to the size difference they look more like an angry petroabit. Starscream cycled several intakes of air, fans whirring as the organic's enticing pheromones teased his sensors.

Leaning in close once more, Starscream rumbled in a deceptively soft tone, "You know full well what I Need, you were in the meeting i doubt you weren't ears dropping " the two go silent just staring at each other before Starscream continued, "Remain still and silent, I need you frame to sate my needs. Struggle, however, and I make no promises of no injuries." 

They flail, trying to slap his plating, hissing at him. "Have you lost your mind, what makes you think I'd even let a fucking Con touch Me!, you'd likely squish me after!" They shout at him while trying to wiggle out of his hold. "TRACKS!, BLASTER!" They try yelling. 

Starscream snarled as they fruitlessly struggled in his grasp. "Cease your pointless writhing," he spat. While interfacing carried certain risks across their disparate biology, gentler care could satisfy both parties, he wasn't past trying to satisfy them if it meant he could stable his systems. Releasing a steady ventilation, Starscream stated, "Calm your little processor and listen. Perhaps we can find an arrangement... mutually satisfying."

 They go quiet as they lay there in Starscream's servos. Their heart pounding in their chest as they listen to the whirl and pulse from Starscream's frame. "What kind of Arrangement?" They ask, a slight stutter in their voice. Starscream cycled air slowly through his vents as his optics met the organic's gaze.

"One whereby both parties leave in a state of satisfaction, with dignity intact. I'd rather have a willing participant, as much as I dislike your kind I'd be caught dead before interfacing with an Autobot, you help me with my Issue, you leave satisfied and we never speak of this again" he rumbled softly, fans whining as his body shutters as heat pours through his lines, 

 “ Your pheromones are sending my systems haywire, I need release” he grumbles hating the fact that he had to resort to almost begging for a rut partner. They shutter lightly debating the offer. The whines, clangs and mechanism in his frame screech and grind against each other with need. "Fine, I'll help you with your issue" they grumble lightly. Nearly yelping when Starscream begins discarding their clothing. "Jesus! Desperate much!" They snap at him.

Starscream's optics roll as he ignores their grumbled words. Discarding the shredded garments with efficiency, Starscream purred down at its now-exposed form, his digits traced teasing patterns against sensitive flesh as primitive biological functions betrayed the organic's own rising arousal, he could basically taste them. 

 Starscream rumbled smugly, watching as they squirmed under him. A shiver runs through their body as Starscream traces a digit down their body, watching the way they shift under his touch, the goose bumps that prickle their skin. A soft whine leaves them as he moves further down their frame. "God you're so snobby and up yourself" the human huff in annoyance. 

"Your pathetic frame betrays your prudish words, flesh creature," Starscream sneered, tracing his claws around areas already blossoming with coloured lines. Leaning in until his ex-vents teased their naked body, Starscream purred silkily, "Cease your mewling protests." His own circuits buzzed with building need.  

The human shutter as Starscream's digits move down to their thighs, teasingly tracing against their sex, they let out a slight moan only to gasp as Starscream leans down and watches the way they squirm under his rather gentle touch. "prick" they huff. Starscream's crimson optics glinted with a mix of disdain and hunger as the human's teasing gestures. They go to make another snarky remark only to nearly squeal as his glossa presses against their skin, dipping down to press against their entrance. 

With a snarky smirk playing on his lips, Starscream leaned down, relishing the sight of the human squirming under his touch. "Prick, am I? Well, you're not exactly my ideal choice of company either," Starscream retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm and a hint of arousal. A feral hunger surges through him as his glossa pressed into them,  slowly dragging along their walls. 

Their skin tastes sweet like the Energon wine with crystals he loved so much from before the war. It makes the mech groan out in delight and he pulls them flush against his intake, indulging their sweet taste. Small gasps and whimpers leave them, their protest falls silent as Starscream works them open on his glossa. Starscream's optics narrowed at the human's withering frame, a snarky smirk playing on his lips as he continued to indulge in their sweetness. He speaks against their thighs "Oh, the audacity of you. Don't act like you're not enjoying every astrosecond of this," Starscream retorted.

With a predatory gleam in his optics, Starscream worked them open on his glossa, relishing in the way they squirmed and gasped under his ministrations. Despite the human's initial protest, their body betrayed their true desires, succumbing to the intoxicating allure of the Decepticon's touch. The sweet sound of their moans has Starscream contemplating sharing them with his Trine once the rut cycle is over. hes rather sure that the other two would enjoy their tight body as much as he was. 

As the collection of moans fall from their lips, their hips arch up into his intake. They refuse to call out his name. Even as he presses his glossa deeper into them, a deep purr rumbling from his frame. A small whimper leaves them and it makes Starscream rather smug over the situation. With a haughty tilt of his helm, Starscream pressed his glossa deeper into them, relishing in the small whimper that escaped their lips. Their defiance only fueled his desire to dominate. 

A loud moan falls from their lips as they throw a hand over their mouth, but it was too late now, Starscream had heard the moan. Despite their feeble attempt to stifle their sounds of pleasure. "No need to be shy now,” he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance and amusement.

"Shut up" they grumble. Everything about the human has his systems surged with old coding, a need to take and claim them. Starscream's optics flashed with a mix of irritation and amusement as the human grumbled and pushed him away, attempting to assert some form of control over the situation. "Oh, touchy, are we now?" he retorted, his tone snarky and laced with impatience.

His modesty panel slides away as his Spike pressurises. His movements became deliberate and calculated. Running a digit down their thigh, savouring the contrast between the cold steel of his touch and the warmth of their skin. The choked mew that escaped the human only fueled his desire further, a smirk playing on his lips as he slowly pressed his digit into their tight opening, relishing in the sensation.

 he picks up pace of his thrusting his digit into them, admiring the way their smaller body eagerly takes it. As the human's eyes fell closed in a mix of pleasure and surrender, Starscream's movements became more assertive and dominant. Each thrust was calculated to elicit a response, his actions a blend of pleasure and power. "You're enjoying this more than you'd like to admit, aren't you?" he taunted, his voice laced with snark and condescension.

The human's moans increased in intensity, a symphony of desire that only fueled Starscream's own satisfaction. As Starscream retracts his digits he makes himself comfortable between their thighs, enjoying the mess he had made of them so far. Despite their fight before they seemed much more manageable and cooperative now. A loud gasp escapes them as his spike lays against their skin. Horror and fear flashes before their eyes.

Starscream couldn't help but chuckle at the sight before him, the human's initial resistance now giving way to a more compliant state. A loud gasp escaped the human as his spike laid against their thigh, a playful glint in his optics as he leaned in closer. "Oh, what's the matter, little one? Scared of a spike?" he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery and condescension.

"That's not going to fit" they state breathlessly as he slowly grinds against them. A soft whine leaves them as Starscream slowly rocks against them. He enjoys every second of it, the sweet scent from the human, the way their body responds to him so eagerly despite how much of a fight they have put up.

"Oh, you underestimate me," he taunted, he dragged the tip of his spike down to their entrance, Starscream revealed in the anticipation and control of the moment. Starscream's voice dripped with smug satisfaction as a loud gasp escaped the human upon feeling him slowly pressing his spike into them. With a loud groan and the static of Cybertronian leaving him, he firmly grasped their hips, keeping them steady as he worked his spike inside them. A smirk played on his lips as he relished in the moment.

"What was that about not fitting?" Starscream's taunting words filled their tight body, Whimpers, whines and moans fell from their lips as Starscream began picking up pace, enjoying how tight they felt around his spike, he hadn't interfaced with anything like this. And he was starting to see the appeal of such a soft and plush body. 

"Such delightful little sounds," he murmured, his voice laced with a newfound appreciation for the human's form. His optics flicker down to watcha s his spike slides into their tight hole, enjoying the wait their body almost moulds around his spike, relishing in the tightness and the softness that enveloped him, savouring every moment. 

They cling to him with each thrust, a symphony of moans leaving them. He continued to move with purpose, Starscream relished in the sounds of their shared pleasure, his coding singing in delight as his Spike swells locking them in place as he hunches over them, digits digging into the metal table and he snarls loudly. 

Starscream's frame trembled as the human's fingers dug into his plating, sending a shudder up his struts that resonated through his core. The intensity of their touch, combined with the overwhelming pleasure of how tight they are around his spike pushed Starscream into a feral state, his instincts taking over. 

He ruts his spike deeper into their smaller body as he overloads and coats their insides in a vibrant hue of fluorescent pink that pours out of their smaller body onto the table around them. His optics flicker down to watch the fluid drip and leak from the human's smaller frame, his optics darkening with a primal hunger. The sight of the shimmering pink fluid only fueled his desire further, his fans and vents blast hot air as they try to cool his systems. He doesn't move from his position taking time for his frame to reset and cool down from interfacing. 

The human lay under him in a panting mess, eyes closed trying to catch their breath in the aftermath of their coupling. "You're quite the pathetic sight, struggling to even breathe properly," Starscream remarked, his tone laced with a mix of irritation and amusement. They shoot him a glare before flipping him off. “Go fuck yourself” the huff out, chest heaving as sweat sticks to their skin.  

"You're lucky to have experienced such a moment with me. Cherish it, for it may be the closest you'll ever come to true power," Starscream's words dripped with condescension, a hint of sadistic pleasure colouring his voice. “go suck a spike” they grumble out trying to get the last word in over their argument. “I'd much rather feast on you” he rumbled, slowly pulling out, another flood of transfluid gushes out of their smaller body which makes them gasp and shutter. 

A smug satisfaction washes over Starscream before he drops back down between their tights. Glossa runs over their abused sex as he pulls them back to his intake. 

_________

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[the-smut-mongerer]

hi how are you? If requests are still open can I request headcanon for Transformers Prime? (predaking, shockwave and megatron) with a reader who is literally a dragon? The reader has kept a Cybertronian relic for a long time.

Megatron, Shockwave, and Predaking with a Dragon! S/O

a/n: sorry for taking an ungodly amount of time to get to this, hope you like it!

wanna support me? donate to kofi!

tags: GN reader, dragon reader, robot x monster/dragon relationship, reader isn't suggest to be a human at all. reader isn't described to be verbal but assume they have a way to communicate, dragon hoards, fighting, mention of blood and animal death(just hinted), romance!!!!

ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem, she/her, she/they please do not follow or interact with my mlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛

Megatron —

finds you fascinating, often he can find himself just staring. taking in your beauty and the power the radiates off of you.

of course, he'd like to have you fight for his cause. an advantage for one, and he simply loves seeing you fight.

he'd love to have you train with him. That would depend on your size, though. he knows better than to try to fight. that would be roughly the same size as his ship. (He's a sore loser when he loses btw.)

beware, he might treat you like a pet if he had you at his feet while he pet the rough skin and scales alongside your body. he may accidently go onto a power trip with you

however, feel more than free to put him back in his place. you're much stronger than him at the end of the day

When you show him your hoard, he's intrigued. He views it as a trophy room, like the one he once had from his gladiator days.

If the relic isn't useful to him, he'd let you keep it, but if it is, he will take it from you, regardless of your protest.

Shockwave —

of course, he takes a scientific interest in you. collects your scales you shed, examines your claws, and likes to scale just how strong your fire is and a lot of other things.

His sharp claws are perfect for preening, especially in the stubborn hard to reach places. while he doesn't admit it and claims he only does it to collect them, shockwave finds it very relaxing.

he wouldn't bother trying to fight you, he'd however would like to fly with you. moslty flying out to places that have predacon fossils or lost Cybertronian relics.

he likes to observe how you fly with or against the winds, taking down notes as your body adjusts to flying in high or low altitudes.

When you showed him your hoard, he was indifferent. he saw no point in hoarding objects that wouldn't benefit you.

as he looked around your domain, he picked up and fiddled with some items that he was interested in.

upon finding the relic he asks to take it, if you say no, he'll simply scan the core things he needs from it and leave it there, but if you say yes, he'll have a ball. he might give it back to you once it served it's purpose.

Predaking —

at first, he'd thought of you as a threat. somone who would take his place as a king. it wasn't until he, of course, grew closer and got to know you were he dropped these thoughts.

if your size is similar or doesn't have a very drastic difference, he'd love to spar or play fight with you.

he has no way to consume animals, but he'd love to go hunting with you or watch you hunt, to say the least. finds the way you move with such grace and precision is simply amazing to him.

he likes the difference between his metal and your scales. Feeling your body up against his is an odd sensation but very much welcomed. he's godly at preening your scales and would do anytime anywhere.

flying with you is one of his favorite pastimes with you. he most definitely tries to show off his flight capability as well, doing a wide variety of tricks and flips.

courting dancing/flights are a must. he's unfamiliar with his, but they're so engraved into his(the former kings)muscle memory that he'd remember as he went on with the courting.

when you respond with a dance of your own, he's smitten 10x again. Likes to learn your dance if you'd teach him.

also during courting and even after or before he likes bringing you gifts. Random trinkets he thinks you'd find joy in having.

upon being introduced into your hoard his is amazed. It was one of the most beautiful places he has seen.

unless the relic relates to him, he wouldn't bother doing anything with it, simply leaving it there alone unless shockwave may request it.

[ran5066]

Just imagine that you well go to sleep in peacefully and BOOM! autobot went to your room through your room's window(Your window is big) and he's staying front of you like this................huh? What—how??? don't ask me girly..... but on the bright side you will fall in love with him too! good?? No? Don't worry he's just trying to stay calm when he talks to you maybe he looks...scary but his love for you is real and strong! He's really cute and gentle trust me when I tell you he will doing anything for you! So... good? And I just made him for the reader he's not real

[sometimes-you-write]

[ Look at my DNI before interacting with my blog, please ]

[ Transformers Animated ]

[ you can decide if Reader is a human or a cybertronian ]

Reader: *showing Bulkhead a cauliflower* Can you tell what this is?

Bulkhead: A cauliflower?

Reader: *looks at Bumblebee* Now tell him what you told me it was.

Bumblebee: *mumbling* Ghost broccoli.

*a few hours later*

Reader: Bumblebee? What's wrong?

Bumblebee: *hiding behind Reader* It's the ghost broccoli!

Reader: For the last time… It's called cauliflower, not ghost broccoli.

Bumblebee: I know what I saw!

*turns out that Sari played a prank on Bumblebee, now making him believe that cauliflowers are the ghosts of broccoli*

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Rookie (ABC Series) - pg. 2

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

This list contains all fics and sequels after 12/25/2024.

Page 1 (fics and sequels posted before 12/25/2024)

Page 3 (series and blurbs)

Words to Die By

13k+ words | angst (to light fluff) | BAU!reader | Seven years after failing to become an LAPD officer, you return to Los Angeles as a literary analyst with the FBI's behavioral analysis unit to catch a serial killer.

Strikes to Die By 10.6k+ words | angst to fluff | Months after you kissed Tim, you have to save him and yourself without letting your emotions get in the way. His past follows him to the FBI, and you must decide if you want to be part of his past or his future.

Shoulder to Cry On

1.5k+ words | angst to fluff | When your daughter Mia is taken hostage, Tim Bradford holds you together and offers a strong shoulder to cry on.

Between the Holidays

1.0k+ words | fluff | Tim drops by the day after Christmas, and your family leads you to make an unplanned confession.

Wrong Start

1.1k+ words | brief angst to fluff | You're arrested for a crime you didn't commit. After you point Officers Bradford and Chen in the right direction, Tim decides you got off on the wrong start and wants to make it up to you.

Find Your Own Happiness

2.5k+ words | angst | After a falling out with your family, you move to LA and meet Tim Bradford. When he breaks your heart to give his to someone else, you're left completely alone.

Stood Too Close to a Devil (recommend 16+ for violence/trafficking)

7.3k+ words | angst, minor fluff | UC!reader | While investigating a human trafficking ring, you get in too deep. You're abducted and meet a group of women you can't leave behind. After months of fighting, you find your way home to the one safety they couldn't take from you.

Once In a Lifetime (The Rookie x SWAT documentary-style fic)

4.2k+ words | reader insert | Mid-Wilshire opens a case that requires seven police departments, numerous SWAT teams, and an unusual witness. As the public watches a documentary all about the case and the people involved, they see more than crime.

Anatomy of a Relationship

1.8k+ words | fluff | When your friend comes over in the middle of the night to talk about guy problems, Tim finds out what your relationships really mean to you.

The Memories Get to Kickin' In

3.2k+ words | angst to fluff | singer!reader | Tim gets roped into going to a concert. He doesn't expect to have his heart broken during the first song, or to apologize to his ex-fiancée.

Last Day to Live

2.0k+ words | angst to fluff | SWAT!reader | You take a shot meant for someone else, and your boyfriend Tim Bradford has conflicting thoughts about your actions.

Lock and Key

1.9k+ words | fluff | pregnant!CSIphotographer!reader | When Angela and Nyla need someone to go undercover in a women's prison, you seem like the perfect candidate. Inside with Lucy, Tim, and Angela nearby, you find more than a killer.

Save You Again

1.5k+ words | fluff, comfort | veteran!doctor!wife!reader | Years after meeting on a battlefield, you have to save your husband Tim again. This time, you're married and in the hospital where you work.

Reminiscent of Us 1.6k+ words | While you deal with the aftermath of treating Tim's previous injuries, you're attacked in the hospital and reliant on Tim to save you... from yourself and the danger you face.

Chemistry Partners

2.0k+ words | fluff | PO!reader | Tim and Lucy assist you in locating a parolee in violation of his conditions. Lucy notices the undeniable chemistry between you and Tim, but doesn't expect Tim's response when she points it out.

The People You Deserve

3.9k+ words | angst to fluff | platonic/found family fic | While training as a rookie, you have a devastating argument with your parents. Tim realizes that you need someone - someone you deserve - and sets out to become that person for you.

A Sacred Guardian

4.1k+ words | angst to fluff | Cybertronian!reader | Tim and Lucy experience a number of glitches with their new shop. When Tim loses control of the wheel, he and Lucy learn that they've become involved in a fight that is not their own. You save their lives and gain yourself a new position in the process.

A Sacred Guardian's Duty 6.0k+ words | angst to fluff | While assisting Tim and Lucy in a street racing sting, you're abducted by Decepticons. Tim challenges Optimus's leadership and learns that his experience with war won't help the Autobots... or you.

Still Find You

3.6k+ words | angst to fluff | You're abducted from your coffee shop and Tim has to trust his instincts to find you before it's too late.

Hook, Line, and NOPE!

4.4k+ words | brief angst to fluff | Tim Bradford gets hooked on loving you, but you play hard to get. After you finally admit that you feel the same, everybody says he's sleeping with the enemy.

Playing Favorites

3.2k+ words | angst to fluff | Tim trains you differently, uncaring that he's accused of playing favorites. When he realizes that the scars your trauma left go deeper than your approach to police work, he accidentally falls in love with you, and you're beside him for it all.

Anonymity

3.3k+ words | fluff | singer!reader | You and Tim Bradford have secret lives, but when you see one another, the desire to wear a mask disappears.

Anonymity [Track 2] 3.4k+ words | During your final tour show, you sing to Tim Bradford rather than the thousands of people watching. Despite the reason you're both wearing masks, you can see each other clearly.

Decibels

2.6k+ words | angst to fluff | During a city-wide crime spree, you push Tim away to deal with your trauma responses on your own. Tim proves to you that he can be a strength for you, not a weakness.

Break My Rules

3.8k+ words | brief angst, fluff | Smitty!reader | You have a rule not to date men who work with your dad - who just happens to be Quigley Smitty. After becoming friends with Lucy Chen, you meet Tim Bradford and realize that some rules hurt you more than they help you.

Damaged

1.6k+ words | angst to fluff | After a bad evening with your parents, Tim Bradford reminds you that you aren't damaged, and if your family won't be there for you, he will.

The Accent

2.3k+ words | platonic fluff | Cybertronian!reader (x Hot Rod) | You're shy, so when Tim Bradford sees you interact with one of your fellow Autobots, he's confused. Before he and Lucy learn that Hot Rod is more than a comrade, he wonders why you aren't so open with him.

Le Premier Accent (prequel) 2.2k+ words | fluff | When your alt mode is stolen by a well-meaning police officer, you become attached to him. His friend Lucy stumbles upon you and has a different reaction than the man you now guard.

Father's Faults

3.8k+ words | angst to fluff | Tim is distracted by his memories of his father, so you find an unprecedented way to keep him focused. After he lashes out at you for overstepping, he realizes that you understand and have your own memories to battle. Rather than bonding over that, you accept what's been between you since you first met.

Second First Mother's Day

1.6k+ words | fluff | wife!reader | Angela and Nyla take you out for a late Mother's Day gift, and Tim is left alone while your friends care for your babies.

Blood-Stained Aisle

7.6k+ words | angst to fluff | wife!SAHM!reader | One of your cold cases is reopened after an odd incident at a Los Angeles church. You return to the Mid-Wilshire station with your daughter and work alongside your friends, old and new, to solve a case that's haunted you and the city for three years.

Different Nervousness

3.8k+ words | angst to fluff | In your previous job as a waitress, your trust was betrayed by a boss who sexually harassed you. Now, your TO Tim Bradford makes you nervous. When Tim finds out why you distance yourself from him, he has a few thoughts he's willing to share.

Embarrassed to Be Loved

1.6k+ words | brief angst to fluff/comfort | shy!reader | After overhearing an officer joke that Tim must be embarrassed to be in a relationship with you because you're so shy, Tim reminds you that he loves you how you are. He also gets an apology.

what, like it's hard?

3.5k+ words | fluff | younger!lawyer!reader | Your relationship with Tim Bradford has been perfect but private. When you finally meet his team during a night out, they find you are not what they expected.

[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