#Prowl X Reader

[blufblucake]

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Accidentally In Love | Chapter One

Paring: Prowl x GN!Human!Reader.

Trope: Grumpy x Sunshine.

Warnings: This story will eventually contain sexual scenes, so MDNI. Potential sensitive topics addressed in the story will include a trigger warning before the chapter.

Summary: Transferred to a small town after a mistake that nearly ruined your newly started career, you find your last chance at redemption slipping away when a simple patrol turns into a nightmare. Amid mysterious disappearances and strange incidents, you discover that reality goes far beyond what the eyes can see – especially when you find out that your silent, grumpy work partner is, in fact, a giant alien robot.

Word count: 3k

❝Come on, come on, move a little closer Come on, come on, I want to hear you whisper Come on, come on, settle down inside my love Come on, come on, jump a little higher Come on, come on, if you feel a little lighter Come on, come on, we were once upon a time in love We're accidentally in love❞

Author's notes: Hi! I'm back to writing after many years away, and I still feel a bit rusty. I hope the reading wasn't too dull. Enjoy the chapter! :)

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Chapter One

Prowl walked with firm steps toward the meeting room where Optimus Prime was waiting for him. His expression remained serious and rigid as usual, but the others were already used to the mech's mood. Over the past few weeks, Prowl had been a bundle of nerves due to the Decepticons’ activities in that human city. He didn’t quite understand the faction's sudden interest in such a quiet and remote place, but he’d known their nature long enough to be certain that nothing coming from them was ever a good thing.

As he entered the meeting room, Prowl’s gaze briefly met Wheeljack’s, who greeted him with a subtle nod, which he returned. Optimus Prime sat at the head of the large table, his battle mask hiding his expression, but Prowl knew how concerned the Autobot leader was. He cared about all sentient beings in the universe and felt guilty for bringing their war to such a fragile planet. Prowl pulled out a chair and sat down, resting his servos on the table and intertwining his digits. His gaze remained fixed on a point on the table as he waited for a few more mechs to arrive for the meeting the leader had called.

Once everyone was present, Optimus cleared his throat before beginning to speak. “As you already know, we’ve been monitoring the Decepticons for a few weeks,” the leader said seriously, a noticeable trace of unease in his voice. “At first, we couldn’t understand their sudden interest in this city. However, we believe we’ve discovered the reason. Wheeljack, please, tell them what you found.” Prime passed the word to the engineer, who grabbed a datapad before standing from his seat. He walked to the other end of the table and used the datapad to project some images, allowing the other Autobots to see.

In the images unfolding before him, Prowl observed several inexplicable attacks and unusual interferences – unusual for humans, that is, but all too familiar to them as Decepticon activity. “I’ve been working for some time on a new machine, one that’s truly effective...” Wheeljack added before he started receiving judgmental looks from his colleagues. “My new invention was able to detect strange energy readings coming from the city. As we know, there are traces of crystallized energon here, but I have reason to believe these are more than just remnants.”

As he carefully watched the images and absorbed Wheeljack’s words, Prowl’s processor was flooded with thoughts of doubt. How many planets had they brought their war to? How many civilizations had been destroyed because of their actions? He understood that war came with losses, and innocent lives were unfortunately part of the price to be paid. But how high was that price? Prowl tried to hold on to reason, to the belief that no matter the means, the goal was what truly mattered. Yet, deep down, guilt consumed him, and he felt a painful tightening in his spark every time he thought of the families of the innocent lost.

“According to the new readings from the machine, this entire city is a massive reservoir of crystallized energon. Deep underground, there’s so much energon that, if the readings are correct, it could generate enough energy for a very, very long time!” When the engineer finished speaking, a brief silence filled the room, just a few seconds, before an explosion of voices erupted, all speaking at once. Most were asking the same question: Could Wheeljack’s machine be trusted, given the engineer’s reputation? Optimus Prime raised his arms and motioned for everyone to calm down, always maintaining his composure and ensuring everyone had a chance to be heard. His voice was tired as he said, “Please, my friends, settle down.”

He gestured for Wheeljack to sit, then stood and began pacing around the table, his arms behind his back structure, servos clasped at the end of his frame. “We began noticing Decepticon activity shortly after a human excavation project started in the city center. Some workers reported seeing a bright blue glow while operating machinery, and others mysteriously disappeared. We have every reason to believe Wheeljack’s readings are accurate, and that the Decepticons discovered this long before we did.”

Optimus stopped at the other end of the table, where Wheeljack had been standing just minutes earlier, and placed his servos on the surface in front of him, leaning forward. Even with his battle mask covering his faceplate, it was clear through his optics just how serious he was in that moment. “They’re a few steps ahead of us, harming weak and innocent humans. We cannot allow this to continue, we must intervene as quickly as possible. After an analysis with Jazz, we discovered they’ve infiltrated human society, spying and spreading chaos. We need to investigate up close, gather more intel, disguise ourselves and... Infiltrate.”

The Autobot leader straightened his posture and began pointing at each of them, assigning roles. When he reached Prowl, the mech adjusted his stance and waited for instructions. “Prowl, I need you to infiltrate the local police department. You’ll investigate the unusual occurrences and be our source of information on the inside. Autobots, I’m counting on all of you. Let’s roll out.”

With that dismissal, everyone rose from their seats and began leaving the meeting room. Prowl did the same, walking briskly through the base's corridors. His thoughts were fixed on how he would manage to infiltrate human law enforcement. He hated to admit it, but he hadn’t done much research on this planet or its customs since their arrival, only the basics. He would need to expand his knowledge and upgrade his holomatter avatar if he wanted to do a good job and avoid revealing the presence of Cybertronians on Earth.

He knew he could count on Jazz, head of special operations. The mech had developed a peculiar admiration for Earth’s culture and its people, he could help Prowl improve his disguise and understanding of humans. In the end, spending more quality time with his colleague wouldn’t be so bad either. With his mind made up, Prowl changed direction and headed toward Jazz’s habsuite.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Even though it was still early – not even 6:00a.m. – the sun was already shining brightly outside, spilling into the bedroom through the gaps in the curtains. You hurried across the plush carpet covering the floor, grabbing your brand-new uniform and getting dressed. You were so anxious about your first day on the job that you hadn’t slept properly, imagining countless possible scenarios and conversations in your head, rehearsing your introduction over and over to make a good first impression.

This wasn’t just a new job, it was a chance for a fresh start. You knew you’d messed everything up at your last post, and you also knew they had sent you to this middle-of-nowhere town as punishment for your mistakes. Well, not all of it had been your fault, but of course, they would never punish a seasoned, well-respected officer. Naturally, everything had fallen on the rookie. You still couldn’t believe you had been foolish enough to fall for the sweet talk of a notorious flirt, a real Don Juan in uniform.

After finishing getting dressed, you stood in front of the mirror and looked at your reflection. The uniform was completely standard and simple, bearing the city’s police emblem on the chest. There wasn’t much room for personal flair, even if you added some accessories, you’d still look as basic as any other officer. And that was fine. You preferred not to stand out, to remain discreet. Making a good impression was crucial, so no one could use your past mistakes against you. You gave yourself a wide, encouraging smile, even though anxiety bubbled inside you.

The alarm on your phone snapped you out of your thoughts, and you quickly grabbed the device to turn it off. It was time to leave, you couldn’t afford to be late. You packed a few essentials into your backpack and slung it over one shoulder, then walked over to the aquarium where your Guppy fish swam calmly. You grabbed the container of fish food and leaned over the tank, sprinkling a few flakes into the water. “Olivia Benson, wish me luck...” you whispered, a fragile smile forming on your lips before you put the container away and left the room.

You picked up your car keys from the small table near the door and checked your appearance one last time in the small mirror before heading out. Climbing into your old Beetle and starting the engine, you flipped through radio stations in search of something to soothe your nerves. Traffic was light at that hour, and a few people were already walking the streets, off to start their daily routines.

A serious reporter’s voice made you stop changing the station and listen closely. “Two more workers involved in the construction of the new subway station have been reported missing. According to their families and friends, both were peaceful individuals with no enemies, no criminal records, and no known connections to illicit activity. The local police are investigating the string of disappearances, but no updates have been provided to the press so far...”

You furrowed your brow, thoughtful at the reporter’s words. You hadn’t been in town long, but your elderly neighbors had told you it had always been a quiet place. Sure, there were occasional incidents and petty crimes, but nothing serious or recurring. And that’s what you wanted to work on – uncovering what was really going on, finding those people, and delivering justice. You knew you were new to the force, it had barely been a year since you graduated from the academy, but it had always been your dream to make a difference.

The drive to the police station was quick and uneventful. Upon arrival, you parked your old Beetle in one of the available spots in front of the building. Slinging your backpack over one shoulder, you got out and walked toward the entrance. Inside, everything was quiet as expected, considering the hour. Timidly, you approached the reception desk, where a woman in her forties was working with her head down, fingers furiously tapping away at a keyboard. She didn’t seem to notice you at first, so you cleared your throat until she looked up. You tried offering your best smile, but her stern expression didn’t change as she pushed her glasses up with one finger and gave you a once-over. “Yes?” she asked.

"Good morning, I'm the new officer-" before you could finish speaking, she cut you off with a long sigh of someone clearly tired of her job and pointed in the direction of a police officer who was standing by the water cooler. "You're the rookie, right? Sergeant Smith will show you around," she said, immediately turning her attention back to the computer, leaving you on your own. Looking in the direction she pointed, you hurried when you noticed the sergeant was already walking away. You gently touched his arm to get his attention. He stopped and slowly turned toward you. His gaze moved from your hand resting on his arm to your face, where you wore a warm smile. Subtly, Sergeant Smith pulled his arm back and took a sip from his plastic cup, his eyes questioning who you were and why you had touched him.

You cleared your throat before speaking. "Hello, Sergeant Smith, I’m the new officer. The lady at the front desk said you would help me on my first day." He sighed and turned to walk again, his ‘come with me’ so low you almost didn’t hear it. You followed him through the station's hallways until you reached the locker room. He pointed to one of the lockers before saying, "That one's yours. Leave your stuff there, and next time, do me a favor and change into your uniform in here." You barely managed to put your backpack inside the locker before he started walking away again, forcing you to rush to keep up. He gave you a quick and vague tour of the station, so fast you knew you wouldn’t remember most of it.

Finally, you both stopped in front of the cafeteria, and he looked you over from head to toe. "Listen, you’re new here. Most of us already know what happened at your last job, so try not to give anyone a reason to mess with you. Got it?" You nodded, placing your arms behind your back and trying to stay composed, though you were burning with embarrassment on the inside. "You’ll be on patrol today. Your partner is waiting for you in the garage." Before you could say anything, he walked off, leaving you alone. First day, and you had already made a bad impression on two people. You hoped things would go differently with your partner. So, you decided to buy two coffees and a croissant as a peace offering.

With a paper cup in each hand and the croissant in a small bag, you walked to the garage and spotted only one patrol car parked there. It looked so sleek and new that it almost felt wrong to use it for police work. With long strides, you approached and knocked twice on the passenger-side window. The tint was so dark you couldn’t see anything inside. Getting no response, and struggling a bit due to your full hands, you opened the door and slid into the passenger seat with a wide smile on your face.

The officer in the driver’s seat had perfectly styled red hair and icy blue eyes so intense they almost looked like contacts. His mouth was set in a tight line, brows nearly furrowed together, his eyes slightly widened in what looked like surprise at your sudden appearance. You placed one of the coffee cups in the holder and extended your hand toward him. "Hi, I’m the new officer at the station. You must be my training partner, Officer..." you leaned in slightly, trying to read the name on his badge, "...Rowley!" Your hand stayed extended for a few moments, but when it became clear he wasn’t going to shake it, you slowly pulled back and tried another approach. "I brought you coffee!" you said cheerfully, offering the cup. He only glanced at you up and down, his expression unreadable.

Realizing that wasn’t going to work either, you let out an awkward chuckle and placed the cup next to the other. "You’re the strong and silent type, huh? That’s okay, I talk enough for the both of us." Your attempt at a joke fell flat – he remained completely serious, staring at you. Before things could get any weirder, a call came through the radio. "Moderate fire, possibly arson, reported in an abandoned warehouse in the North District. Reports of internal explosions. Fire department en route. Nearby patrol car to secure the perimeter."

Great. Some action. You adjusted yourself in the seat and buckled up. "Alright, let’s-" your words were cut off as Rowley suddenly sped off at full throttle, forcing you to grip the seat with both hands. He stared at the road ahead with such cold intensity that it didn’t seem human. Your gaze flicked between him and the road, baffled by the urgency for what seemed like a standard call. When you finally spoke, your voice trembled slightly, paired with a nervous laugh. "Let’s take it easy, Mr. Strong and Silent. It’s just a fire, and the fire department’s already handling it."

The car slammed to a halt, your body jolting forward and then harshly back against the seat. Looking out the windshield, you saw another police car parked directly in front of you. Your partner had braked to avoid hitting what looked like a dare from the other officer. Before you could react, the officer in the driver’s seat beside you vanished, just like that. Not like he opened the door and got out, he simply disappeared. One moment he was there, and the next, he was gone.

Your eyes widened in shock, mouth agape. You’d seen a fair share of strange and disturbing things in life, but never someone vanish into thin air. Instinctively, you screamed – a sharp, piercing sound that echoed inside the vehicle. As if things couldn’t get any stranger, the car in front of you began to shift, morphing and rearranging itself until it stood upright in its final form: a towering robotic figure. Glowing red eyes stared directly at you, and a malicious smirk curled at the edge of its metallic lips.

You screamed even louder, panic taking full control. Then, a cold, commanding voice filled the car, as if coming from everywhere at once. "Shut up and get out of the car!" You looked around, desperate to find the source. "What?!" you shouted in fear.

"Get the hell out of the car, you idiot!" the voice snapped, now angrier. Wasting no time, you unbuckled your seatbelt and flung the door open, jumping out. You crawled away on hands and knees, gasping for breath, your mind spinning. Looking around, you saw nothing but a deserted street; no houses, no shops, no witnesses. Over your shoulder, you looked back at your patrol car and nearly fainted as it, too, shifted and transformed into a massive robotic being.

You turned your body, sitting on the pavement and inching back in disbelief as you took in the sight before you. Your vehicle now stood as a towering metal creature with sharp red horns, its expression eerily human-like, serious and composed, reminding you disturbingly of your silent partner. "What the actual fuck..." you muttered, eyes darting from one robot to the other. Then, a deep, mocking voice from the other bot sliced through the silence, sending a chill down your spine. "It’s been a while, Prowl!"

Author's notes: I hope you liked it, I believe I'll improve little by little. If you find any mistakes, I kindly ask you to let me know. Thank you! ＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚

[l3ibnest]

first encounter

[michaela-o]

This dynamic🙏🏻 i need to read some prowl with his little human fic :’]

[revelboo]

Hello lovely revel!

May I humbly ask for a birthday request? I would love to be tangled up with Jazz AND Prowl. Jazzprowl sandwich....

No worries if not! Thanks for the continuously delicious content 💖

Happy birthday! 🔞 Mass displaced mech 🌶️

Interludes Pt 13

Jazz x Reader x Prowl

• “Come on, kitten,” he croons, sliding an arm around you, hand on your hip. “Got a good friend to introduce you to.” Guiding you forward to the room he’d secured, he ducks to brush his mouth against your neck. Venting he pulls the scent of you deep into himself. Letting himself in as you squirm against him, he eases you inside and turns you as he shuts the door. Pinning you against the closed door, his mouth covers yours. That sweet, needy noise you make sinking into him and going straight to his spike. Because you’re going to be perfect.

• Big hands lift you up as he settles himself between your thighs, rocking himself against you. And you hook your legs around his waist, holding onto him as his mouth moves hungrily against yours. Trembling when he lets you come up for air, you belatedly notice the second bot sitting on the berth watching you both, his spike already out and erect as he rubs a servo lazily against the head. “Hi,” you whisper, arms around Jazz’s neck. “That for me?”

• Lips twitching slightly watching Jazz rock his hips against you, Prowl slides a servo along the underside of his spike. Bold little thing. “If you’re good for Jazz,” he growls and Jazz chuckles, brushing kisses against your cheek and jaw. ‘Don’t be mean, Prowler.’ Door wings flicking at the nickname, he watches Jazz cup your butt and walk you to the bed, bending to ease you down. “Strip for him,” Prowl says.

• Flushing, you start peeling out of your clothes, and Jazz’s buddy stretches out alongside you, propped up on an elbow as Jazz slides down and drags you to the edge of the plush berth so your legs are hanging over. And his mouth presses kisses against you, mouth skimming down your body and glossa dipping against your belly button to make you squirm before he cups your butt in his big hands and puts his mouth on you. “Prowl,” his buddy says. Gasping, you arch and his friend, Prowl, grips your chin, turning your head his way as his mouth covers yours.

• So sweet, hips trembling and moving against his mouth as he tastes you, visored optics flicking up to watch Prowl kissing you, the other bot catching one of your hands and guiding it to his spike. Encouraging you to stroke him. And your other hand cups his helm as you buck and whimper his name. Growling when you come apart under his glossa. And he shifts over you freeing his spike. Hearing you moan as he stretches you and Prowl’s optics lock with his.

• You gasp against his mouth and Prowl nudges your head with his. Feeling your soft fingers tighten on his spike, still stroking him as Jazz’s hips pump against you. Covering your hand with his, he shows you the rhythm he needs and watches Jazz’s hips flex as he frags you. Loving watching the way the other bot moves inside a partner, losing himself in the interfacing. Always trying to take care of his partner. Reaching out to run a servo against one of Jazz’s wheels as the other bot shudders with his overload, filling you as his venting grows ragged.

• Trembling as Prowl rolls slightly so you’re trapped between their heated frames, Jazz bumps his helm against Prowl’s before slipping free of you. And his buddy flips you onto your belly and shifts against you, his spike stretching you as you moan. Prowl rutting against you with a growl as Jazz turns your chin his way to claim your mouth. And you’re overwhelmed by them, feeling Prowl moving urgently inside you, the heat of their frames, hearing both of their rumbling growls and your own desperate sounds. “Look at you,” Jazz murmurs against your lips. “Prowl making you feel good?” Crying out as you arch, Prowl’s hips snap against you as you come apart. Feel him manage a handful of thrusts before he snarls and overloads inside you. And Jazz’s hand lands near your head as your heart races and the breath is almost driven out of you when Jazz leans over you both, grinding his hips against the other mech. “Don’t worry, we’re not done with you yet, kitten.”

Previous

Next

[runicarbiter02]

I’m sure this is a very common take, but I haven’t had any motivation to write fandom stuff lately, so I wanted to get this little bit down while I had the inspiration

—

Being the human partner of a Cybertronian, any Cybertronian really, and turning this huge, hulking, intimidating bot into a giant mechanical cat with some gentle touches, some kisses, and sweet words. Standing on your bot’s shoulder, gently stroking a hand over their cheekplate, and listening to that earthshaking rumble of their engine as they purr. Your bot gently nudging you with their cheek or nose when you stop, silently insisting the continued touch and affectionate words. Your bot mass displacing and crawling into your bed, arranging pillows on your lap before laying their head down and promptly falling into a well deserved recharge. (Let’s pretend that they wouldn’t shatter the bed frame just by putting a little weight on it, lmao-) Your bot trying to teach you chirolinguistics, not realizing that you don’t have the same kinds of sensors in your palm as they do, leaving you incredibly confused. Your bot relishing in the tiny flickers of unabashed emotion they get from your very weak organic EM field. Singing softly to your bot, only for them to croon one of their favorite Cybertronian tunes right back, and the both of you giggling over just how vastly different your music is from each other’s. Your bot trying to teach you the Cybertronian language, and you trying to teach them about human art/literature/philosophy/etc. You and your bot being soft and cute and fluffy. Send tweet 🏃‍♀️💨

—

I hope you don’t mind me tagging you, but you’re the one who motivated me to get back into writing!!! This lil drabble certainly isn’t my best work, but it’s the most I’ve done in awhile, haha @revelboo

[cybertronianwriter]

Dear Panther - Prowl x Cybertronian!Reader

You and Prowl had been conjunxes for quite a bit, to the surprise of the rest of the autobots and Sari. They were surprised that Prowl had a sparkmate now, especially one as cheerful as you.

But as you spent more and more time together, you started noticing some... traits of his. From his solitary habits when he wasn't around you to taking naps in trees, you had started to notice how absolutely catlike he was.

Even with those traits that wasn't the most catlike he had gotten. It was late at night and the two of you were tucked away in a sideroom, Prowl's helm in your lap as you gently stroked the metal of his helm with your servo.

As you did so, you could hear a soft rumble. It took you a moment to realize what it was coming from- or rather, who.

Prowl was purring. His engine was rumbling in a deep simulation of a purr, optics closed in both contentment and a sign of pure trust. It was absolutely adorable.

After a moment of thinking, you reached a servo up and scratched under his chin with a digit. He trilled, back arching briefly before he relaxed it again. If anybody else saw this he'd never live it down, but he trusted you more than anything.

He was your panther, your kitty, and you were so near and dear to his spark.

[sparkriddledfever]

Okay but like the milk maiden dress definitely gets those engines revving.

Reader is gender neutral.

Warning: 18+ under read more. Cunnilingus (in First Aid's part)

(Megatron, Prowl, First Aid, Hound)

Megatron may be an old, tired mech. Though that does not stop him from appreciating this sight before his optics upon entry into his habsuite.

The dress slightly hiked up your thigh, the front almost daring to slip off; threatening to tease his optics with the bare flesh. Daring him to descend upon your form without remorse since you just want to be a slagging tease. His fans switched on low, his face failing to hide behind that stoic persona. Yet you knew you had him flustered, a soft laugh roused from your lips.

"I was-" he cleared his throat to clear it of the static, "was not aware of any special occasions."

"No special occasion besides wanting to surprise my favorite mech," you winked.

A light snarl escaped him at the tease; he swiftly enters the suite and descends upon your flesh.

Prowl necessarily didn't have time to stop and drop everything. However, you just had to come into his office while he's leg deep in his work and show off that dress without shame. Telling him to take a break all the while purposely spreading your legs wide, leaning back on your hands as an invitation to him.

Well, since you kindly allowed him to take what he wants. He shall take advantage of it.

"P-Prowl! Slow down!-" you squeaked when his servos slammed down near your head. His optics glared down at you in those same fiery shades of blue, never once did his hips falter in their thrusts, a slight uptick of his dermas sent that fiery liquid feeling through your nerves and pooled in your stomach.

"I believe you don't have a say since you gave me the choice to relax. So, I am relaxing-" he grunts when a comm blimp into his HUD, growling as his tempo was thrown off, "fraggers."

"H-Huh?"

"Silent," he press two digits to his audials, "what is it now?"

Prowl rolled his hips slowly while quickly covering your mouth. He sent you a silent warning to behave, but you were never the one to follow his orders.

First Aid always admire his sweetspark even you happily show off new stuff or clothes to him. He always took the time to compliment you or share your joy, if he was going to play favorites though. His absolute, all-time favorite is you in a red and white summer dress; of course, he's a sucker for anything you wear that's in his colors. This specific one had his engine revving in delight.

His digit played with the strings while his dermas kissed down every bare inch of you. He softly vents, the air billowing over your heated skin sent shivers down your spine. Slowly, he lifted the skirt up; groaning softly at the sight of your wet pussy under the sun's gentle light flooding through the window.

He leans forward without a thought to his processor, placing a sloppy kiss to your clit. His glossa lapping up your juices and running it across his dermas. Rousing a sweet, shrill gasp from you. Making him smile in delight and filled with the urge to hear more of your sweet sounds.

Hound is a sucker through and through. You, who got him all wrapped up around your pinkie, have him stumbling and chuckling like a young mech. Flutter your eyes up at him while wearing that dress in his shade of olive green. He's truly panting like a dog when you press yourself up against him, letting him rut his spike between your thighs.

His servos trembled to keep his strength in check to not squeeze your hips too hard. His optics never once left your ass, too much focused on it rippling under his thrusts.

"Yer- ngh- killin' me here, darlin'. Yer gon be tha death of me, I swear."

It's not fair that your laughter gotta be so saccharine to his audials, making him feel like liquid with such ease. His helm drops into your neck with a barely audible whine when you squeeze your thighs together around his spike. You lean back into his hold, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. Your lips brush against the sensitive audial, smiling with a soft blow to it,

"It'll be much easier for you to overload in me, no?"

Now, you're truly trying to kill him, huh?

[hoiststowline]

tell me why

prowl x reader a/n: newly edited from my initial post on ao3, I will update it there as well!!

Sensing his deadpan before your feet even leave the stairs, you save him the scoff that was certainly headed your way and offer a middle finger instead. 

"You've got to be fragging joking." He won't open the passenger door, heaven forbid he let you sit in the driver's seat, yet his side-view mirror jerks your way in an aggravated manner. Languidly looking you up and down, and not in a way that makes you feel good about yourself, he continues with as much disgust, if not more. "Do you even care about appearances, or have you just given up entirely?"

"I'm sorry," You start, hand defiantly coming to your hip, anger seeping far too easily into your tone, now riled up. "I didn't really have a second to change when you called me at eleven-forty-eight, yelling at me to be outside in three minutes." Backpack hanging from one shoulder, the toe of your sneaker meets the pavement in an irked manner. "You're lucky I even picked up, I have you blocked from four different numbers, and yet, you've managed a way to contact me."

The police cruiser sputters, his engine growling as he argues, temper flaring alongside a familiar dramatic display. "I'm lucky?! y/n, please, I should drive off and leave you pissed that I got you out of recharge for nothing."

Your fingers curl around the door handle, tugging it twice to ignore his unkept threat. "Open the door," 

"You're the biggest pain in the aft I know, and that's saying something." The door pops open, narrowly missing your kneecaps, but you can't find an ounce of energy to start up another round of quarreling. Prowl's voice echoes from the center console as you throw your bag in the backseat, hard, bouncing off the leather before landing on the floor with an unceremonious thud. "Would you stop that?"

"You woke me up and are giving me attitude?" His rear-view mirror moves erratically now, straightening out until you're looking back at your reflection. 

"Get out." He doesn't particularly mean it, because the whole reason he called you is because he needs you, something he'd rather drop dead than admit. You're the bravest and yet the daftest individual to even offer a smidge of trust towards Prowl, but the only being that's shown him a glimmer of kindness in epochs. "I'll do it without you."

But the recently slammed door doesn't re-open, and his engine never cuts out, leaving the conversation hanging in empty air. The two of you sit in silence, the mech baiting you to erupt into an argument, but the only thing you propose is to sit in the front seat with arms crossed over your chest. 

"I hate you." The seatbelt clicks across your waist, tightening gently as a warning to behave. "I hate you so much, y/n, and I hate that I even resorted to coming here."

"You don't hate me because you wouldn't be here if you did." You jeer, sniffling before looking out the window, unimpressed by his nonchalant jab. "I'm one of the few friends you have, you bastard."

"Please," He takes off, moving down your street with purpose, hardly disclosing the actual reason for darkening your doorstep. "Let's set the record straight, we are not friends, not by any definition."

"Oh?" Your palm meets his dashboard, a half-hearted hit. "Then what are we, Prowl?"

"I'm an Autobot." Prowl snuffs, coming to a stop at a red light, yet jamming on his breaks a little too violently. "You, are annoying."

Rolling incurious eyes, you offer a swift kick the glovebox, leaving some residual dirt along the plastic. Beating him up was probably not the smartest idea you've had recently, though it was a valid response- you were on the verge of burnout. But the worst part of it all was that you could never deny Prowl, even as exhaustion threatened to claim you. He was abusing you, knowing your weakness was your compassion and ability to jump when he told you to. 

"Stuff it, you overgrown toaster." Your crankiness was leaving you with no filter, eyelids heavy as he began again down deserted roads, kicking up unsettled dirt with squeaky clean tires. 

"I have been alerted there is Decepticon activity in a secluded area where your species partakes in...street racing?" He relays it as if he's reading a transmission. "And I needed a driver."

"So you roll up, as a police car, to an area where people are doing illegal activities, with me in the passenger seat?" Elbow resting against the paneling of the door, your chin meets your hand. "Aren't you the smartest person alive."

"I-" For the first time since you've met him, he actually gives pause as if surveying his next round of words carefully. Whether that be to think of an insult or to think of a reason for how he's right, you give him thirty seconds before continuing. 

"You really woke me up on a Tuesday night for this shit, Prowl? I know you hate me but for fucks sake." He's been driving straightforwardly for a few minutes now, and taking in your surroundings, you realize he's long left city lines. "Hey, where are we going? How far away is this place?" 

"I lied." It's short as if he isn't going to provide any more information, and to nobody's surprise, he doesn't.

"You woke me up! For nothing! And you aren't even at least going to tell me why?!" Throwing your hands up in exasperation, you begin erratically pulling on the handle, even as he increases his speed. "Prowl, let me out, or so help me-" 

"You'll what?" Part of you wished the sadistic mech would open the door like you know he would, leaving you clean on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. He'd done it before, but every time except once, he'd come back to get you, much to his grumbled annoyance. Yet, at this very moment, walking home was better than being with him any longer, patience long since tried. "Tough luck."

"I'll key you. I'll run my keys over your doors and steal your sirens, kick your bumper, disconnect your voice box-" Rattling off as many empty threats you could think of before you ran out of breath, you end the rant with one final blow. "Fuck you, Prowl, this is the last time I ever do anything for you. You insufferable, bird-brained jackass-"

Prowl takes it, every single one of your denunciations, listening and waiting patiently for your incessant prattling to end. He could wait, he's waited thus long, stewing in sleepless nights and throwing any object that he picked up, berthroom walls littered with dents from his servo meeting the metal. He could take one more klik of your unendurable squabble before he transforms, moving cautiously until you're wriggling in the palm of his servo, staring up at him as he stands off the pavement.  

"I will dump an entire gallon of iced tea in your interior," You stand, dusting yourself off as the black and white mech deposits your backpack at your feet. "Pause. Aren't you supposed to be careful about this shit? I know we're in the middle of nowhere but-" 

Prowl's staring, intently so. He eerily hasn't said a single word in five minutes, which is unlike the Prowl you were just previously bickering back and forth with. A frown is permanently etched onto his face plate, cerulean optics unblinking as he observes you and your body language, vexation evident.

"You're not often correct, y/n, but I will give you credit about one thing." A retort looms on your lips, but he silences you with one look. "You are one of the few friends I have left." 

There's a brief moment where it all comes at you ridiculously hard, his unselfish words for once, not agitated or backhanded. Prowl woke you up so late because he couldn't stand to be alone with his rampaging thoughts anymore, putting it off as long as possible before it all boiled over in one fell swoop. It's why he's indignant and irate towards you, at least more than normal because he's trying to process something uncertain of how to proceed. You cock your head to the side, trying to read his well-stifled emotions, but it all comes back to one thing where you release a shaky laugh.

"You're an asshole." Your palm finds your forehead, smacking it with a guiltiness residing in your chest, but the insult this time is much less sincere. Prowl deserved it, he and you both knew he did, but you were blindsided by his vagueness and impromptu wanting to meet up. "I really do hate you."

"You say that as if I don't hear it every damn cycle," His unoccupied hand comes to your back, circling you leaving you no means to escape. "Old news, y/n."

"Are you going to say it, or are you going to make me?" You push away his digit as it smacks you, enough to say 'Cut it out'. 

"Pain in my aft." Prowl gravels, leaning forward to deposit a kiss on the crown of your head. "Don't expect a ride home, ungrateful brat."

You refuse to believe you're blushing, reduced to nothing, as Prowl just offered genuine affection and not a mean-spirited one. Feeling relief in the non-existent explanation and exchange of pitiful and disputatious words, it could only be described as the last puzzle piece finally slotting into place. 

"Kindly, shut the-" You're interrupted as he presses a benign digit over your lips, successfully silencing you, though you don't doubt that wouldn't have happened anyway, even without his assistance. Instead of fighting back, you pull away from his soft pressure to kiss the tip of his finger, letting your lips linger before a weary sigh escapes you.

"Are you wearing that petrolatum on your dermas?" Prowl spits with disgust, yanking his servo away. "You are, aren't you? You fragging gremlin."

You hate Prowl. He was selfish, infuriating, and generally unfriendly to everyone he's ever had the pleasure of meeting, but for some otherworldly reason, you found yourself attracted to his stupid face and his outwardly unlikeable personality. There was a mountain of gold buried under layers of hardened concrete and false promise, but you were up for the challenge if he would let you in. 

[rabotimagines]

"Tease" GN BOT Reader x [Yandere/Obsessed] Ironhide, Prowl, Ratchet, Optimus.

Summary: The bots snap. Or BOT Reader gets their valve pounded.

G1 characters: Ironhide, Prowl, Ratchet, Optimus

Warnings: CNC (technically), Yandere/obsessed bots! Prowl uses his stasis cuffs, Ratchet abuses his knowledge as a medic.

Genre/Theme: Yandere Smut 🔞 MDNI

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Notes: Reader wants to frag but thought it would be more fun to tease the bots while playing coy. The bots don't know this, however, hence the CNC instead of NC or Dubious consent because they think its full NC from their perspective. (Prowl has assumptions but isn't sure, While Optimus is the only one who does actually know for certain you want him.) G1 Optimus would be such a soft Yandere I'm sorry it's true. Prowl and Optimus's parts directly references their first imagine I wrote with Yandere them here

Ironhide is the fastest out of these mechs who snaps first in this scenario. Now, don't get it twisted. Ironhide lasts much longer than other autobots not included here. (Sunstreaker, Skyfire) But out of the other contenders here, he snaps near immediately compared to the rest of them. It starts with soft brushes of your em field when passing each other and you don't react. And Ironhide can see the shape of your aft while your bending over to help fix teletraan 1- and it cultivates when you accidentally run into him and his servos fly onto your frame to steady you not realizing it's you- and your frame is pressed right up against his own and your servos are on each other- and then Ironhide can't fragging take it anymore!

Ironhide drags you into their equivalent of a storage closet before you can protest. It's a heated and frustrating blur, but Ironhide does remember yanking the manual release on your modesty panel- Next thing he knows, he's pounding into your valve from behind where you're both standing. Ironhide curses when you squeeze down on him while you groan against Ironhides' servo. Ironhide had covered your mouth when he yanked you in here. While the back of your frame was pressed right against his front. There's a soft clank of his windshield glass getting hit on your armor every time he bottoms out inside you again.

Primus- you little- You didn't mean to do it! Ironhide knows- he's just a filthy fragging pervert who can't help himself! Every muffled cry out of you only makes Ironhide snap his hips harder and harder. The heavy want in his core only getting hotter and hotter the longer he's fragging you silly. Primus- Ironhide fantasized about this so many times, and the press of your frame against his and your valve taking his spike like this didn't even come close to his own dirty little thoughts. You're so good- taking his spike so good- not struggling too much against him neither- Ironhide lately wishes he'd dragged you in here by your front because he really wants to taste your glossia right now.

A strangled noise, muffled but still audible, escapes your throat when Ironhides free servo grabs your spike and practically starts fragging you right into his own fist with the force of his thrusts. Your spinal strut arches back against his own frame, where you're flush against one another. Your frame is trapped between ironhide and his own servos, and you overload on his spike. Valve clenching down on him and a muffled but used sound escapes you when Ironhide only speeds up. And Ironhide groans and stills to finally overload inside you.

You groan against his servo and Ironhide just continues to softly rut against your aft. Riding out his own overload and making sure his transfluid is stuffed in your valve proper. Your spent spike is twitching in his servo and Ironhide pushes his em field out to praise you- His dang glossia wasn't cooperating with him right. So instead he's pushing his field to wrap around your frame like the rest of him was. the Good, good, you're doing so good. that Ironhide feels in his struts caresses your softly twitching frame.

Ironhide pulls his servo away from your mouth, and you pant in greedy vents. Ironhide then gags you with his digits next- The flat of his digit pads pressing down flat on your glossia. His own glossia dragging along the covering of your audial- Ironhides spike twitching inside you when you whine around his digits. Ironhide had a good amount of pent-up tension he still needed to get outta himself concerning you.

He's lucky you were so understandin' to his predicament...

-

Prowl didn't know what else he could do to avoid the new influx of- unsavory imagery infecting his proccessor whenever he would see you. He'd chalked it up to it being because he'd seen you as he had in the hallway self servicing. And now he could not get the imagery out of his helm. And then new... fantasies continued to turn in Prowl's processor. His logic center continued to randomly calculate subduing measures. He'd now made a habit of dismissing them and keeping his servos behind his own back when you'd have to be near one another.

Prowl is coming out of his habsuite, and you suddenly crash into Prowl, and you both end up on the floor in a tangle of limbs. You're practically straddling his lap- you apologize and sit up and in the process your aft grinds down on Prowls modesty panel. Prowl is hit with the sequence of moves he'd need to take to knock you on the floor and get on top of you instead. And he dismisses it, and he forces himself still. In fact, he's so still you look down at him in confusion and ask if he's alright.

Then your em field of all things brushes against Prowl, and there's a hint of- playfulness? It makes Prowls logic center run, and it runs into a conclusion. There was a thirty percent chance you'd been doing this to Prowl on purpose. Every little pose and stretch- the longer Prowl recalled incidents, the chances had jumped up to forty percent. And then Prowl does something he loathes to admit- but he reacts without thinking. He follows through with the take down sequence prompt and swiftly knocks you off of him. And before Prowl knows it, you're on your front, with your wrists bound in the stasis cuffs he always carries in his subspace.

After a heated few klicks, Prowl grabbed you and dragged you through his doorway into his habsuite, the door closing behind you both. What he was doing to you- but Prowl knew- Prowl was following his intuition. He was trusting his intuition that said the forty percent was correct, and he was reacting accordingly. (Never mind the fact that you were incapacitated-) and he snapped open your modesty panel and your valve was dripping on his digits in less than a klick and the percent shoots up to fifty percent and Prowl (this was wrong- this was wrong-) takes that chance and spikes you right there on his habsuite floor.

Prowl rarely cursed. It just wasn't a habit- but he's muttering curses under his vents when he enters you and promptly bottoms out. You felt- wonderful. Prowl thrusts hard and fast- he never punished you for self servicing in the ark hallway- this was for that- nothing else! Prowls pace doesn't falter when you start moaning and grunting every time he bottoms out. And his door wings don't fan high when you start saying his designation against the floor where your faceplate is pressed. (And he's certainly not fantasizing about pulling you onto his berth after this and fragging you senseless-)

Prowl notices that you're drooling on the floor. (His stasis cuffs having taken function of your fine motor controls.) Prowls servos move from your waist to your pauldrons and he's pushing you down further and thrusting into you harder. Your valve clenches down on his spike and you're murmuring his designation over and over- Prowl overloads with a sharp invent of your designation while pressing down on your back. You're twitching around him and panting lazily against the floor. His cuffs still preventing you from doing much else. Prowl gets the inappropriate thought of kissing the back of your neck and he does not follow through with it.

He does, however, lean to the side of your audial and speak. "Consider this- punishment for your habit of self servicing outside of your habsuite." Your vent hitches at Prowl's words. Prowl realizes he still needs to punish you for playing with him so inappropriately- Prowl didn't consider this nearly enough punishment for your misgivings.

Prowl is running through what else he's going to do to punish you while he drags your frame upwards.

-

Frankly the only reason Ratchet doesn't snap before Prowl is because he took measures to try and keep you safe from him. Which was limiting his interactions with you unless absolutely necessary. Which was working- to a degree. Ratchet keeps thinking about you and the few interactions have left his frame hot and his engine wanting to rev. It's getting harder for Ratchet to continue to convince himself to leave the room when you enter- and then you walk right into the medbay and Ratchet has no where to go- you see him and walk right up to him- and Hoist is off base and he's not gonna be able to handle this- and you'd come in with a visible limp so Ratchet can't just kick you out without seeing you. (He should! He should do just that-) And you ask if Ratchet can realign your leg pivot.

That was simple- Ratchet should be able to do that at least... So you're lying back on the medical slab and Ratchet has a hold of your leg and his other servo is on your pelvis and he just- Ratchet pushed up and to the left and feels your leg realign and you audibly groan in relief. Ratchet found himself staring at how your plating all slacked after the action. And Ratchet takes much too long to realize he hadn't moved from his position and still had your leg propped up. His other servo still on your pelvis' when you're on your back looking up at him.

Ratchet needed to move now.

So Ratchet leans forward forcing your other leg to the side and his servo reaches for your throat- and you stop but you don't panic because you trust him- (He was your medic of course you trusted him-) and one of the multi tools in his digits zapped you right in the throat. Your own sound of surprise is cut sort because Ratchet just shorted your vocalizor. Your optics go wide, and you jerk backward and start trying to use your voice- but nothing comes out. And nothing would sound out of you for a few klicks. Ratchet realizes that whatever is seriously wrong with himself might not be fixable when Ratchets first thought is to feel bad for shorting your vocilizor- not because he might have hurt you. (Or because it's a gross violation of your trust-) But because now Ratchet won't be able to hear what sounds you'd make.

Ratchets yanking the manual release on your modesty panel and climbing up onto the medical slab too, and before he knows it- He's spiking you right then and there in the middle of the medbay. Ratchet savors the reaction of you arching off the medical slab, mouth open but no groan or moan to accompany it. Ratchet pulls back and re enters you slow and watches your valve open up to accommodate the girth of his spike. You grit your denta, and your own spike pressurizes properly, and Ratchet doesn't hesitate to grab it and stroke you off languidly. His grip tightening at your spike tip and giving you a gentle squeeze at the base every pump back down-

Your hips jerk against his own and his servo, and Ratchet actually feels gratified when your valve clenches down on him- (he shouldn't! He shouldn't! It was a basic reaction to him servicing your spike! Ratchet knows better!) Ratchet groans and starts snapping his hips and fragging you proper on the medical slab. His optics are trained on your faceplate- watching how your optics almost shuttered closed- your optical ridge furrowed. Your optics are as bright as he'd ever seen them. Your mouth closes and opens with no sound coming out of you still- Ratchet really wishes he hadn't shorted your vocalizor! Ratchet needed to hear what sound you'd make right now- how you'd sound taking his spike- how you'd sound overloading on his spike- How you'd sound begging for him-

Your spike throbs in his servo, and the only sounds out of you are the slick sounds of your pre lubrant in his servo and your valve when Ratchet bottomed out inside you. You arch against Ratchet, and he jerks your spike in quick pumps and watches you overload all over your chassis and on his spike. Ratchet then rushed forward and locked his derma against your own. His glossia lapping against yours while he snapped his hips. And Ratchet overloads right in your valve while sucking on your glossia.

Ratchet pulls away from the messy kiss and huffs in heavy vents. You're venting harsh, and in the middle of your soundless vents, your vocalizor resets, and Ratchet can suddenly hear your quiet cursing. Ratchet rolls his hips, and you audibly keen- your valve twitching around his spike. Primus- Ratchet was going to need to hear how you sounded overloading on his spike a second time... and maybe a third and maybe a fourth-

Ratchet uses his credentials to lock the medbay door via his HUD and then sends a message about closing the medbay temporally.

-

Optimus is suffering. He's suffering. He is suffering! He has not known peace since his infatuation with you. And he's not known sanity since he's noticed how even more tantalizing you suddenly seemed to be. But Optimus may look- even though he has to yank his gaze away. And Optimus may fantasize- even though he doesn't let himself indulge in those thoughts. Optimus does not "snap." He may be suffering and wound terribly taunt, but you didn't need to suffer because Optimus was a filthy pervert- this was his problem, not your own! (A prime example and the only bot on earth who keeps it together yandere or not!)

Then you're in his office for something, and you ask to examine his desk- and Optimus is confused about why you would possibly need to examine his desk? But like most things involving you, he finds he can't deny you the simple request, and Optimus scoots his chair back to allow you in front of him. And then you promptly sit down right in his lap!? A startled sound escapes Optimus and his servos hover right over your frame. You're on his modesty panel- and you say you didn't think Optimus were this dense. Dense about what exactly?!

And then you admit it. Admit that you'd been purposely teasing Optimus- because you wanted him to proposition you?! Then Optimus's servos fly onto your hips when you rock on his lap. And you tell him he can throw you out If he isn't interested- and Optimus can't let you assume that so his panel is pulling back and he's pulling you upwards so his spike can pressurize correctly. The sound of just your own panel pulling back excites Optimus much more than he'd imagine it would.

Optimus's digits find your array quick, and he vents when he can feel how your valve is already wet and your spike pressurizes in no time at all. And then you ask if he wants to spike you and Optimus abruptly realizes he hadn't asked he'd just assumed you'd be willing to take his spike- After scolding himself a bit for getting caught up in his own needs- wants, Optimus asks if you'd rather spike him. Optimus's engine purrs in his chassis when you say you wanna get spiked by him right now.

Optimus has to take his time prepping you- he has to, his spike is admittedly rather large. By the time he gets two digits down to his knuckle in your valve you're squirming and making all sorts of noise in his lap- and every sweet sound out of you is going right to Optimus's spike and he's dripping pre lubricant on himself- But Optimus just savors every little reaction he gets out of you while opening you up for himself- and then he believes you'll be fine at least taking half his spike. And you're asking him to spike you, and he can't deny you when you want him almost as badly as he needs you. It's a task and then some but you've got at least half of Optimus's spike in your valve and Optimus figures he should show you how much he wants you- Show you what you'd wanted from him with all of your teasing.

Optimus starts fragging you up and down his length (it doesn't matter if you're in his frame class or maybe even bigger he's strong and he's using his matrix enhanced strength to frag you down his spike like a toy.) And Primus you feel amazing squeezing around his length so perfectly- and every noise out of you is music to his audials. Optimus is muttering praises and cooing over how darling your expression is while he's stuffing your valve with all you can take of him. (If you're big enough/trained enough that Optimus can actually bottom out inside you, he's groaning hard. And his engine revs loud.)

Optimus's em field brushes flush against you, and he's telling you how good you're being for him. His spike throbs when your optics noticeably brighten under the attention. (Sweet - you were so sweet for him-) And he starts pulling you down his spike faster and faster- You overload on his spike with a groan, and Optimus follows right after. His spike throbbing and pumping thick amounts of filling transfluid into you. His transfluid starts spilling out of your valve and into his own lap.

Stars- you were amazing...

It takes a few klicks, but eventually, Optimus shifts you up and then drops you back down again. Optimus can't help but enjoy the sight of how your spinal strut arches and how you squeeze down on him. When you question him, Optimus points out how you'd wanted this- all your hard work of teasing him was for this- so Optimus was going to make sure you were satisfied. Completely and utterly.

Was it selfish and almost completely for Optimus's own desire? Yes. But Optimus felt justified being just a touch mean to you. Especially when you'd been purposely making Optimus stress over, apparently nothing for multiple cycles. He's just- punishing you a bit. He was justified doing that. Now, wasn't he? Optimus wondered exactly how much he should punish you- but he guessed he could decide when he got there how much was too much for you, now couldn't he.

Optimus was going to make sure you were satisfied enough that you'd never try and tease him like you had again. He could do that much for you at least.

(Spoilers but Optimus frags you so hard, and so many times your frame ends up entering a forced stasis to recover.)

[jackalackqwq]

Based on @revelboo prowl x reader these are the vibes they give me

Bonus+++

[tinydefector]

Ooooh my good TINY

I THINK I HAVE A GOOD IDEA

For human effect

When the human will arrive on Cybertron, they have to wear uniforms. MILITARY UNIFORMS OR ANY STUFF, AT THE MOMENT THEY ARE UNIFORMS AND THEY ARE ALL PRETTY. Hair done, some makeup on, the humans are all shiny and beautiful. And interacting with AUTOBOT HIGH COMMAND make them super hot bc for once the humans are serious, very diplomatic, very formal,...

Idk why i though about it but it's crazayyy

It will start a uniform kink oh my gooood yessss ....

I can see Rodimus or Skids or Swerve leaning on a wall and struggle bc "primuuuus they're hot... i can't..."

jeez i had too much math for today i gotta cope im sorry

Omg I love this idea. Watch out Bee I'm probably gonna add this in.

Watch the Ambassador's uniform be how Prowl and Ultra Magnus becomes Simps badly.

Ultra Magnus: looking over their uniform to make sure everything is in position and they look respectable. Him rearranging something. 'Oh primus they are so small in my servos, but they look so good, I can't ruin their uniform this goes against every code from 34 to 47.

Prowl: is so pissed off he can't go off at them for anything being wrong either their uniform to the point he wants to ruin it in the best way so he can tell them off.

[l3ibnest]

Cybertronians are hard to read

[michaela-o]

Pov: Prowl and humans (sound on)

A fun little thing i did while i have some free time :3♡♡♡

[revelboo]

Hear me out, Prowl and Shockwave and Reader in center

Sure! 🔞 Mass displaced mechs 🌶️

Interludes Pt 12

Prowl x Reader, Shockwave x Reader

• Lip curling as he runs a servo around the rim of his glass, even tucked into a dark corner of the bar, Prowl feels like he’s too exposed. Sure the war’s over and they’re supposed to all pretend to be friends now, but a rendezvous with a Decepticon? Especially this Decepticon? It would lead to questions. Can’t afford that. “Why here?” He growls, optics narrowing as Shockwave’s antenna flick. It’s noisy and crowded, making it hard to be heard and this is a delicate conversation that could end with both of them executed if it gets out.

• “It was suitable for both of our needs. A public, neutral place to meet for you and entertainment for me,” Shockwave says. Ignoring as the Autobot vents loudly, he taps his cannon on the table top. Head turning to track a human walking by and he reaches to snare you by an arm, hearing you giggle. “You wish to interface, human?” He asks.

• He really just straight up asked if you wanted to fuck? And he’s a funny looking one, no actual face, just a single optic and little antenna that make you think of rabbit ears. Those are kind of cute at least to make up for how odd he looks. Glancing from him to his buddy, you smile slowly and straddle his thigh, hearing him rumble softly. “I might be interested in a threesome,” you say and his antenna flick back. ‘You’re slicking my thigh,’ he growls sounding almost surprised as you laugh and roll your hips against him. “Well, I don’t have anything else to play with, so I have to amuse myself somehow.”

• “We’re not here for entertainment,” Prowl grinds out, stiffening as Shockwave eases you off his thigh and slides out of his side of the booth. “Where are you going?” Door wings lifting and trembling slightly in frustration, Shockwave uses his cannon to nudge you toward the bar and ignores him, leaving him no option but to follow. Watching the Decepticon grab a room token and then guide you toward the rooms.

• “This conversation requires discretion,” Shockwave reminds him, leaning into the Autobot’s space and his antenna flick when Prowl doesn’t flinch. “Privacy,” he adds, holding up the token and herding you toward the room. Slipping inside with you, he shuts the door behind him and Prowl. Sliding his hand against your back, he moves to sit on the padded berth and releases his spike. Watching as you insinuate yourself between his spread thighs without hesitation, little fingers wrapping around his spike and stroking to make him shudder. “Make your proposal,” he growls at the Autobot.

• You hear the black and white one growling in his own language as you pin purple’s spike against your belly, stroking him. And he tugs you awkwardly up into his lap, his cannon hooked against your knees, antenna back as you guide him to you and sink yourself down on him back to his chassis. Your breath catches as he stretches you, feeling almost overwhelmed by him. Easing back onto his elbows as you roll your hips adjusting to the feel of him inside you, you hear him groan and growl something back at the other one. Talking about you?

• Staring at anything but you lazily riding Shockwave’s spike while you’re staring at him, Prowl grits his denta. Trying to have a serious discussion while you’re moaning and Shockwave is growling and venting raggedly and he can hear the wet sound of you taking the Decepticon’s spike. Hating that his spike is stirring. That he’s aroused by this. Thinking about how you’d feel riding him. Or under him. How you taste.

• You’re so slick and tight as you ride him, bouncing on his spike. Cannon sliding against your side, his hips lift slightly. Those little noises you’re making stringing him tight. “Faster,” he growls and you roll your hips, looking over your shoulder at him. Before giving him what he wants, moving urgently until there’s no focusing on the annoying little Autobot or his scheming. Feels you trembling right before you cry out, fisting his spike so tightly and he’s snarling, overloading to fill you as he shudders. And when you shift to slide off of his spike, he vents feeling his excess trailing down his spike to slick himself. Immediately missing the heat of you.

• Legs wobbling, you walk over to purple’s angry friend sitting in a corner and you straddle his lap, feeling him tense, door wings trembling. “Want to let me put a smile on that face?” You ask, leaning up to graze your teeth against his chin. “Satisfaction guaranteed.” Wiggling in his lap to make him snarl at you like he might shove you off his lap, but when you grind against him, he frees his spike for you. Venting raggedly when you lift up, guiding him to you and sinking down on him. Eyes closing in pleasure at the way he feels inside you.

• Jaw gritting as your tight, wet heat grips him, Prowl’s servos grip the sides of the chair. Feeling you rock yourself against him. “Are you looking for a mate?” Shockwave asks and your surprised laugh sinks into Prowl as those eyes meet his optics. ‘I’m just here for a good time,’ you say, tone teasing as you move on his spike, riding him. “Disappointing,” Shockwave growls and Prowl wonders if he could change your mind about that, because you feel fantastic, making him want to pin you on that berth and rut inside your wet heat. Frag you until you decide you do want a mate. Him.

Previous

Next

[chippa44444]

TFA Autobots reacting to SO collecting robot model kits?

(im thinking Op specifically but go nuts) 👉👈

Thank you for your request! English is not my main language so I'm sorry if I make any mistakes!

TFA Autobots React to Their Human S/O Collecting Robot Model Kits

[Autobots (Optimus' team) x GN!Reader]

🔥 Optimus Prime

He notices the model kits with a curious look at first, a little uncertain.

“You’re really into… robots, huh?” he asks with a small, slightly awkward smile.

But when you tell him you started collecting long before meeting him—and that now, no plastic version could ever compare to the real thing—he freezes, his optics widen, and then… he chuckles softly.

“…You really know how to make a bot blush.”

Later, if he sees you assembling a model of him, he might glance at it quietly… and then strike the same pose in real life while pretending it’s a coincidence.

🛠️ Ratchet

“Model kits? Bah. What’s the point of fiddlin’ with tiny pieces when you’ve got the real thing right here?” he grumbles.

But when he sees you carefully clipping, painting, and fitting parts together with your deft fingers, he finds himself quietly impressed.

“You’ve got good hands,” he mumbles. “For such a tiny thing.”

You mention you've made one of him, and he instantly demands to see it.

Ends up squatting nearby, arms crossed, giving "helpful" (and very bossy) advice.

“That part’s upside down. No, not that shade—use this one. That’s closer to my actual paint job.”

He won’t touch it—he’s too scared he’ll break it—but he’ll hover like a grumpy old guard drone.

💪 Bulkhead

“Oh wow!! Look at all these tiny lil’ bots!! They’re so cute!” he exclaims, his massive frame practically lying down to peer into your display shelf.

When you warn him not to touch anything, he immediately backs off with wide eyes.

“O-oh! Sorry!! Didn’t mean to break your treasures! They’re just so cool…”

Then he spots one that vaguely resembles him and gasps.

“That one’s me!! Right!? It’s gotta be!!”

He gets ridiculously happy, and later? He secretly crafts a tiny badge with his own name and places it beside that model like a proud little kid.

He also starts asking if he can be part of your collection too.

“I promise I’ll stand real still! Like a statue!”

🌸 Prowl

He watches your hobby with quiet interest, eyes following the movement of your hands as you assemble piece by piece.

“There’s something meditative about this, isn’t there?” he says, voice low. “A miniature reflection of order and discipline.”

You gift him a model of a sleek samurai-style mech.

“I thought this one looked a bit like you.”

He takes it with delicate fingers, silently examining it for a long time.

Then softly murmurs, “If I had only ever existed like this… I wonder if you still would have loved me.”

He stays beside you in meditative silence while you build. Doesn’t speak—but his gaze? Always watching. Always warm.

⚡ Bumblebee

“Wait, WHAT!? You collect robots!? That’s so cool!! Is there one of me!? Please say there’s one of me!!”

He’s bouncing on his feet, practically vibrating with excitement.

You try to tell him to be careful and not touch anything, but he pouts dramatically.

“…Sooo you were into plastic robots before me?” he asks, suddenly sulking.

You reassure him that he’s way better than any model kit.

Instant mood switch. He beams.

“Yeah!! 'Cause I talk and move and do this—TA-DA!!” He strikes a heroic pose next to your shelf.

Starts showing off every time you're building.

“Need a reference model? I can hold that pose forever if you want. Take pics. Frame them. Worship me a little.”

[mehiwilldoitlater]

I asked @revelboo about permission of making some draws about her fic....I was quite excited...

As a personal headcanon, i saw Prowl!Reader as a professional cheerleader?...Like...she have this vibe that like to chew people...also, she and Ironhide!Reader would be like complice in crime, both of them plotting on cutting their mech throat//kiss them gently.

Optimus!Reader that keep on pestering him, someone save that poor delusional old man...

As soon as Trailbreaker!Reader find out that Hound!Reader planned to abandon her if things went south, things gonna get messy.

okay, these are my personal one (author, you can do whatever you like with this, i was just having fun by creating)

1)Hotrod!Reader, a young Ballerina (yes, my actual now fixaction , god help me). He didn't planned to take her away, he was mostly just protecting her from some Decepticons and was forced to follow order. She came from a poor enviroment, she practice dance with heart and soul, and actually feel devastated knowing that she have to lose her dream. Hotrod feels bad about it, he care for her deeply, he just wnat to see her smile again. He see their story as the Swan Lake, with her being Odette and him being Rothbart.

2)Smokescreen!reader, an homeless girl that play an old guitar. Abandoned by her parents in favor of their golden child, she soon lost her precious uncles and lived on the streets since then. Despite her condition, she's a ray of sunshine, optimistic and quite cute around everyone. She can tell you the most thraumatic experience like some jokes and not seeing how bad they are. For some reasons, she's quite unlucky but bring a lot of luck to his guardian, now she's his luckycharm. Think honestly that Smokescreen is the best thing ever happen to her, she have a roof, foods, blankets and fresh water to clean herself.

3)Inferno and Redalert!reader, a bride that had been cheated on on her wedding day. She's not sad about her lost freedom, to be honest she doesn't care about anything at all. She have a broken heart, and doesn't care about any kind of comments that Red can do, Inferno is genuinely scared for her. She had sew her own wedding dress, she's planning to burn it.