#from what i can see he's likely ground his dentae hard enough for them to crack like that

[transingthoseformers]

Oh look at this cover art. Look at the detail, the sheer brutal messiness of it.

It invokes a very specific feeling, and I feel like Tarn's servo here is very well detailed

fun fact, I've noticed that sometimes he has claws, sometimes he has blunt digits. I suppose it could be a blue eyed Brainstorm situation, but who knows. I personally like him better with the claws. Sue me, I love giving characters claws.

[anon-e-miss]

AU where Jazz runs a TON of charge. It takes ten spike overloads to satisfy him, and he doesn’t have a refractory period. After ten overloads in a row, he tends to go utterly feral—as if he’s in rut. Just mounting and clawing and biting and rutting away until he finally knots his partner and blacks out. This is only occasionally a problem, because basically no one can handle getting him off ten times in a row anyway.

Prowl, SiC, sees how this endless charge is impacting Jazz’s work (and quality of life). He has a crush, but he tells himself that’s not his motivating factor. Jazz needs someone he can trust to see him to blackout. Someone who won’t tap out three overloads in. Someone who won’t judge him for getting increasingly desperate and feral and possessive as he frags them.

Jazz maybe thinks no one could tolerate that kind of behavior. He might feel ashamed of the fantasy he has of ruthlessly fucking someone completely helpless. Someone who trusts him. (Possibly someone who would trust him enough to knowingly drink drugged energon hand fed to them)

Fortunately for him, Prowl thinks that fantasy is HOT AS A SMELTER.

Time for Jazz to finally get some satisfaction.

Despite the war ravaging the planet, Cybertron was seeing a mixing of frametypes like never before. It was by in large a positive as cultures that once stood well apart rubbed one side by side. It was not entirely positive. The differing needs if frame types could class, as Praxian Prowl had experienced this firsthand but at the moment he was not worried about himself or his framekin. He was worried about Jazz.

As Praxus had segregated itself from its neighbours with the great dome, Polihex had itself been segregated, the nomadic and semi nomadic groups had roamed the Wastes and the Rust Sea without fear of heat or storms where no other frametype had. Their frames had developed their own quirks and one of Jazz’s was coming into play.

He needed to frag. But Jazz did not trust so much and so easily as mechanisms thought. Why anyone believed a spy would be trusting, Prowl could not begin to understand. There were Bots Jazz trusted, his team, of course but his team did not comprise mecha capable of taking what Jazz had to give them. He was starting go get snappy, standoffish. It was effecting moral, that seemed like a good excuse.

"You need to frag," Prowl declared as Jazz smacked the datapad he was fiddling with. The Polihexian's visor flashed white.

"Not really yer business, Prowl," he replied. Prowl flicked a single doorwing.

"It is affecting your productivity," Prowl said. "There is no way in Pit I will authorize your deployment when you are in such a state."

"Ya can't order me to frag," Jazz said. "OP would have yer helm."

"Why would I order you?" Prowl asked. "We both know how well you listen to my orders. I am offering my assistance."

"I would ruin ya in two overloads," Jazz said. "Not worth the effort."

"You will find I was forged for endurance," Prowl replied. "I could take anything you give and more."

Jazz stared at him and cocked his helm as he looked Prowl up and down. Prowl did not flinch from the hungry in the mech's expression. He had won, and he knew it. At the best of times Jazz was hard pressed to resist a challenge. This was far from the best of times.

"We'll see."

There was something to be said for Jazz’s self-restraint, he had more of it than anyone, including Prowl would have guessed. He did not push Prowl down on his desk and frag him, but made an honest to Primus appointment for the coming dark-cycle and suggested Prowl take them both off the schedule for the next mega-cycle. Prowl had never gotten so thoroughly fragged that he could not work the next mega-cycle but he acquiesced. It was not as if he could not put himself back on duty as it suited him.

They met in Jazz’s quarters rather than Prowl’s, though Prowl’s rank afforded him best quarters; he had never changed from the original suite he had been afforded as a tactical officer. All he used his quarters for was recharge and the narrow berth was adequate for that. That berth would not serve a marathon interface. Jazz’s would serve that purpose far better. Prowl was not clear of what expectations he had possessed prior to his arrival but every preconception fled as soon as he stepped through the door. That unexpected self-restraint he had observed in Jazz in the light-cycle was gone and as soon as Prowl entered, Jazz was there. Prowl gasped with start as Jazz effortlessly disrobed him.

“Nice tits.”

Servos cupping Prowl’s wells, Jazz pushed Prowl up against the wall and covered his mouth in a crushing grip. He hiked up Prowl’s leg, hooked it over his hip and shoved Prowl’s modesty panel aside as it was still retracting. Prowl moaned into the brutal kiss as Jazz’s ground his palm into his node as his digits spread his folds. The preparations were quick, rough and Prowl was at a loss to do anything but cling to Jazz’s shoulders. He was embarrassingly wet, just dripping with slick before Jazz’s digits ever entered him. His valve made an obscene squelch as Jazz digit-fragged him, spreading his too long empty lining. Apart from the squelch all sounds of Prowl’s overload were muted, swallowed by Jazz’s hungry mouth.

With the nip of his swollen lower lipplate, Jazz broke the kiss and stared into his glassy optics. Prowl dug his digits into Jazz’s shoulders as the other mech suddenly pulled his leg over his shoulder and drove his spike deep into Prowl’s frame. The speed and the force knocked the intakes from Prowl and the sudden stretch burned but along with the burn was a sudden scalding pleasure as his internal sensors and nodes were quickly triggered. It was embarrassing how quickly he overloaded, screaming Jazz’s designation, before Jazz had even sheathed himself in his quickly spasming valve. His leg, the one still on the floor felt like gel and he trembled. Before he could fall, before he could even secure his grip on Jazz’s shoulders, Jazz yanked that leg out from under him and held him up as he thrust up into Prowl’s valve, carving through his internal seal, carving him open. Prowl’s mouth fell open in a shocked O. His doorwings smacked back against the wall. Jazz groaned, denta clenched as he took his pleasure. Blistering hot transfluids flooded Prowl’s tank. He panted. That was one for Jazz. How many did a Polihexian usually have in a session? Oh yes, ten or twelve.

Jazz’s spike was already pressurized again before he pulled out of Prowl. He tossed the Praxian over his shoulder and carried he over to his berthroom. Prowl squeaked when he was tossed onto the berth. Flushing madly, he shuffled back so his helm rested on Jazz’s pillow, then through his legs open and canted his hips as he reached between his thighs and he moaned as he held the rim of his oozing valve open. When Jazz fell over him, Prowl cried out with ecstasy. Jazz held Prowl’s legs up and open as he filled him in one great plunge. He caught Prowl’s nozzle between his denta and nipped and sucked.

With his helm pulled back by the firm grip Jazz had on his chevron, Prowl grunted and panted as Jazz reamed out his aft pipe. He had always enjoyed aftplay and nothing at all had changed here. Prowl dug his digits into the blankets below him and he pushed back into Jazz’s churning thrusts. His wells, too large for his frame, swayed under him. Jazz covered Prowl’s long neck with denting bites. When Jazz pulled out, transfluids drooled Prowl’s slack rim. That was three.

“New ya’d have a tight aft,” Jazz groaned as he watched his spend leak out of Prowl’s afthole.

A mech possessed, Jazz gave Prowl quarter, there was no respite. Prowl braced himself on Jazz’s taunt belly as he rode the Polihexian’s spike. Jazz tugged and pinched Prowl’s nozzles. He was rough as he played with Prowl’s heavy wells and fragged up into Prowl’s well fragged core. As his node ground into Jazz’s array, Prowl round Jazz harder, faster. His glossa lulled from his mouth as he moaned deliriously. Jazz reared up, taking Prowl’s nozzle into his mouth again as his digits drove into his drooling afthole.Prowl’s optics crossed and he overloaded with a wail as Jazz’s splattered his gestation tank with more transfluids. That was... four? Five? Prowl had lost track already.

He was not sure if he was overloading anymore, or if he just never stopped. Prowl panted as he twisted the pillow under his helm in his servos. Another pillow was beneath his hips as Jazz pinned him down, servos folded over his shoulders and drilled him deep. Prowl moaned softly as Jazz ran his servos over his back and doorwings and squeezed his round aft segments. He sucked a denta into the edge of Prowl’s doorwings. Somehow, Prowl found the energy to wail as he overloaded. His protoform rounded slightly as Jazz released into his tank again. Prowl panted. He spent. Jazz rolled him  and pushed his legs open. Jazz was not.

Jazz stood up on his knees and rutted into Prowl’s sloppy valve.The angle he was using dragged Jazz’s spike against Prowl’s gamma cluster and his internals clenched  as sparks flew across his vision. HIs peds curled, Prowl reached between his own legs to furiously, rub his anterior node. With a shrilled shriek, Prowl overloaded but Jazz never stopped stimulating Prowl’s gamma cluster and soon Prowl was overloading again, his valve sprayed lubricants out around Jazz’s spike.

Prowl drooled against the pillow as Jazz crouched over his upturned aft and growled as he plunged his spike into Prowl’s quivering channel. His protoform was bloated, inflated with Jazz’s transfluids. It was going to take orns for the swelling to go down, Everyone was going to think he was carrying. Something heavy and solid ground against Prowl’s slack folds. The knot. He still needed to take Jazz’s knot. Prowl sobbed as the thick swelling at the base of Jazz’s spike butted against his rim. As it was, he was already so full. Overwhelmed, Prowl tried to wriggle away but Jazz bit his doorwing and hiked his hips up, and forced the knot passed the last of his internals’ resistance.

Jazz’s overloaded with a grunt, the force of his spill so much strong and the amount so much greater. Prowl dragged his servo under him and felt his swollen belly where he was inflated with Jazz’s spend. Groaning softly, Jazz collapsed against his back and his spike twitch with another spurt of transfluids as he fell into stasis lock. Prowl tried to push himself up, to get himself out from under Jazz but he was too tired to dislodge the mech. His optics grew dim and he resigned himself to recharging with Jazz pinning him to his filthy berth and his spike knot deep in his tank.

[olivia200312]

Accident~ RID2015! Optimus x Human! Reader

Plot: Y/N got into an accident in her house.

So, this is a true one-shot. This is NOT a lie. I got into an accident this morning. I woke up normally like every other human but when I wanted to move my head, I felt a massive intense pain at the back of my neck and head area. When I stood up, I felt dizzy. I moved a bit but it got so worse that I wanted to lay back down. But I collapsed and my face made contact with the floor. Luckily not hard but I did get a bloody nose. I felt very hot and was pale. But this all stopped when I laid down and slept a bit. My grandmother called my mom and she arrived s fast she can. The ambulance was called and they took me to the hospital. They checked my health and I was allowed to go. I also bit my lip a little bit hard so it's swollen when I fell. I wear a case around my neck and have to take it easy. This all happened on July 16th.

This continues after You're No Alone and Author! Check them out!

Author: one-shot where I became a self-published author on July 10th.

You're Not Alone: on February 5th, my grandfather passed away.

Head area:

Brain: Processor / Brain Module

Head: Helm

Face: Face plate

Ears: Audio receptors / Receptor Orifice / Audials

Nose: Enstril / Olfactory Sensor

Eye brow: Optical Ridge

Eyes: Optics

Mouth: Intake

Lips: Dermas

Teeth: Denta/Dentas

Tongue: Glossa

Chest area:

Chest: Chassis / Thoraxal Cavity

Back: Hexa-Lateral Scapula

Spine: Bipedalism cord / Back Strut

Chest and back armour:

Chest plate

Back plate

Mid-section plating

Neck guard

Side plating

Arm area:

Arms: Arms / Restarlueus

Forearms: Bitarlueus

Hands: Servos

Fingers: Digits

Arm armour:

Gantlets

Shoulder pads

Arm guard

Lower area:

Pelvis: Pelvis

Butt: Aft / Skid-Plate

Thighs: Tibulen

Calves: Cadulen

Feet: Pedes - the high heel bits are called Struts or Heel Struts.

Lower armour:

Skirt plates

Aft plate / Skid plate

Thigh guard

Ankle guard

General/Internal components:

Muscles: Cables / Pistons - It depends on the area in question.

Veins: Fual lines

Stomach: Tanks

Lungs: Vents - used to stop the con/bot from over heating.

Heart: Spark

Tattoos: D-con/A-bot Insignias and the lark

T-Cog: The thing that allows all Cybertronians to transform, be that their arms or their whole body.

Bonus:

Penis: Spike

Vagina: Valve

Body: Frame

-----------------------------------------------------

The alarm clock went off through Y/N's phone. She groaned and reached to put it off. Just as she wanted to move her head, she felt an intense massive pain at the back of her neck and head area. The pain was so intense and aggressive that it paralyzed Y/N to move. She nearly cried because it was very painful! But she managed to push the tears down. She moved her head very carefully. She then managed to stand up but she felt extremely dizzy and hot. She even was pale! Just as she grabbed her things like her phone, the charger, her wristwatch, and her headphones, it got far worse. She wanted to lay down again. She really tried to reach the bed but then... she collapsed. Her face made contact with the ground. It wasn't luckily hard, but she, either way, felt her nose drip out blood. She bit her lip a little bit hard that it will be sure swollen later. She even felt hot! Due to collapsing, she dropped her stuff, creating noises.

There were fast footsteps heard and the door of her bedroom opened. It was her grandmother. The poor woman looked panicked once she saw her granddaughter laying on the floor. "N/N, are you ok?" She immediately helped her up and made sure that she laid down on the bed.

"I f-feel weak."

The grandmother then saw blood drops on the floor, the carpet. She picked up her granddaughter's stuff that was dropped and laid them on the table. "I'll call your mother and clean the blood. Oh my god..." She immediately left the bedroom to call Y/N's mother and once it was done, she started cleaning to get the blood off. Once it was done, she sat down on Y/N's bed and kept an eye on her.

There were noises heard since Y/N's granny lived in an apartment. There was an elevator. Y/N heard the elevator clearly and it stopped on the floor where Y/N's granny lived. The doors opened and she entered the place. She immediately entered the bedroom. Her eyes widened when she saw her daughter in a weak state. "What happened?"

"I-I don't know. She collapsed on the ground. She has a high temperature."

That's when Y/N heard that her mother will call the ambulance. Oh no... Please no needles! Y/N didn't have enough strength to respond she took small naps until the ambulance arrived. It was two grown-up adult males. They were friendly. At that time, Y/N managed to sit up on her bed, her feet touching the carpet floor. She explained everything to the men while her family watched worriedly. They checked her blood pressure and her temperature. Like this one thing where you put your finger in. Y/N's temperature went down back to normal quite fast and she even stood up! She even moved and she felt no dizziness! Huh, looks like her body took the action quickly. Y/N wanted not to get tested but her mother wanted her to. God... She's an overprotective mother since she's single and loved her child dearly.

Y/N's grandmother helped her granddaughter to actually put her pants on before the ambulance arrived. She carefully stood up while the men made sure that she didn't collapse again. Y/N's mother packed like Y/N's phone, wallet, and the book she published. She had to wait for a few days to finally hold her book in her hands. What's stupid was that she had to pay for her own book instead of getting it for free since she's the author after all. The world was so stupid sometimes...

For the first time in her whole life, she rode in an ambulance car. One man was driving while the other was with Y/N, writing important information of Y/N's mother's card ID. Y/N herself was 17, almost 18. Let's just say that the accident happened on the day when her mother was supposed to come over and hand her daughter the book. It was honestly a very sad day for Y/N... She was excited to hold her book in her hands but look t that... a freaking accident.

The ambulance finally arrived at the hospital and Y/N was checked this time by a nurse. Everything went fine. The doctor came to check on her and Y/N explained everything. The doctor explained that the pain might be caused due to sleeping positions or other reasons. And the attack of dizziness, it could be caused by stress.

"Ever since my father's passing, she had a very hard time accepting that he's not here anymore. I see her constantly trapped with her feelings and emotions. She might have possible autism but it's not sure yet because the tests didn't happen yet. She even confessed that she wanted to commit suicide by taking pills. We are going to a psychiatrist but it doesn't help sometimes." When Y/N looked at her mother, she had a sad and soft look.

The doctor looked shocked by Y/N's mother's story. He couldn't help but feel sad for the teenage girl. She suffered a lot and still does. No one deserved to go through this, especially a kid. He looked to Y/N's mother and told her that it's better to continue to go to a psychiatrist. That's when Y/N was finally letten go with her mother. But however, before they can ride fully home, she heard her mother make an appointment with the doctor for a blood test. Oh, come on!

Later~

Optimus heard the news of what had happened. He got very worried when he heard that Y/N fainted. In his processor, he knew that it could be from the stress. Ever since her grandfather's passing, she never got better. She would cry for days, she didn't eat for 3 days which caused her to feel dizziness and headaches. She nearly landed in the hospital because of this. She started having trouble with her emotions and feelings. Not only that, but 2 months later after Y/N's grandfather's passing, her mother had a discussion with her, and guess what she found out, Y/N's other grandfather passed away on December 23th! Y/N never met her other grandfather before. She never saw him but she did saw how he looked from photos. His death was kept a secret for 2 FREAKING MONTHS! Y/N's father went to live in England with his new 'family'. Y/N's father did everything, especially paying the bills but he found out that his girlfriend had enough money to actually pay the bills! She lied the entire time! Y/N's father quickly broke up with her so he lived alone now. Y/N remembered the day very well when she heard the news that her other grandfather passed away in December. She cried. Yes, she may have never met him but she's sad that she lost someone that she could never meet. She wanted always to meet him! But he mysteriously disappeared after Y/N's parent's wedding day! Y/N had so many questions at that time. Had he ever heard of her? Did he know that he had a granddaughter? And many other questions. Y/N was right to be mad at her family. She was furious for days and there's still anger in her, she just doesn't show it. She rather keeps it hidden.

On the 3rd of July, just as summer vacation began, Y/N traveled to Poland with her mother. Since her grandfather passed away in Poland, both mother and daughter had difficulties traveling. Corona was still out there and the airports were controlling the passengers. You need to have important documents and proof that you are fully vaccinated or negative. Y/N was not vaccinated so she had to the test and let me tell you, it was disgusting! You know, the long thick thin stick in your nose to get the cells? Y/N's mother was also not vaccinated so she had to do the test as well. On the 4th of July; she went to visit her grandfather's grave. It was so painful... Y/N's mother believed that it would ease the pain, but she was so wrong, it didn't ease at all! Y/N wanted badly to talk to her grandfather alone but her two aunts and her mother stood close by. She didn't get privacy at all. She was mad. Y/N refused to eat for hours as well. But eventually, she came to eat when it was time for dinner.

2 days later, she returned back to the cemetery. She was alone this time with her mom. She had one minute of silence with her mother and FINALLY, Y/N got the privacy she needed. She must have at least talked for 1 hour to her grandfather's grave because she spoke a lot. She was thankful that her mom understood her. She said at the end her goodbyes and wanted to hug his grave, but she felt ashamed, shy, and embarrassed so she only touched the cross and cried. She cried the whole time.

At that time, Y/N was fighting was depression for months now. It was not easy due to the loss of a loved one instead of an animal. She missed of course her pet friends she lost, but with people was very different. When you lose someone for the first time, it's so painful. It can take a long time to get over with or part pain will stay forever inside of you. Depression cannot be 'cured' but you can control it with your power. It's not easy and it can be stressful, exhausting, and painful as well. Pain can be felt in your heart. What's one of the most important things to NOT ever do to a depressed person was yelling. It happened to Y/N. Her aunt, or her second mother, who lived in Poland, texted her and asked how she was doing. Y/N responded that she's fine. But she also told also that texted if she doesn't get better because of her possible autism or mental illnesses, then she will not go to work. But what Y/N's second mother send next, made Y/N mad. She responded like she doesn't have mental illnesses and that she needed only more explanation. Seriously? That made Y/N cry! Why was she reacting fast? Why was she quickly angry? Why was she having bad days? Why was she losing interest in her activities sometimes? Why had she dark thoughts? Why would she cry a lot? Why was she having trouble with emotions and feelings? Think about other symptoms. Those were clear signs of depression. According to an American's website where the experts knew everything about the loss of a loved one and what can happen further in the future if you don't get better in like 5-6 months after you lost someone, the chances were high that you had depression but it's important to go to a doctor where it helps you and asked questions. It's important, to tell the truth. once it was done, the doctor will finally give you the diagnoses that you were waiting for what's happening inside of you.

Y/N had to wait sadly. Still waiting. It can take up to almost 1 year or 2 to meet the doctor where the diagnoses can be finally revealed. She had possible autism as well. It was very possible Asperger's Syndrome. It's autism where people have difficulties communicating with other people but also having trouble understanding. The person can talk very well but sometimes can be quiet as a mouse too. People who have it were very unique. They even don't like to be touched all the time and don't like to make eye contact. Y/N's grandmother was the first one to notice the symptoms and told her daughter, Y/N's mother, to bring her to the doctor but Y/N's mother didn't notice anything until finally years later when her father passed away. So, they're on the waiting list. I mean, they had to be.

But anyway, Y/N's mother caught her daughter crying after she was done chatting with her second mother. Sometimes, Y/N doesn't want to talk about why she's crying but she's sometimes being pushed a little bit too hard which was not smart at all. When Y/N explained why, let's just say that later, Y/N's own mother, started to yell at her. Yes, Y/N had been fighting for months but seriously? Y/N wanted to scream and fight back but she couldn't! But when the fight was finally done, Y/N's heart was full of pain and felt hopeless as well. Y/N's mother should have never yelled at her! The results will be only crying! Sometimes, it can give results of an attack or worse...

Later~

Y/N walked carefully while not wearing a cervical collar around her neck. The doctor said that she didn't have to wear it all the time and recommended to at least sometimes move carefully her neck. Y/N felt pain sometimes but it's healing. She couldn't laugh hard, not yawn widely, etc. It was so annoying! She still couldn't forget her mother's yelling inside her head and those memories will probably haunt her. She already got her first corona vaccine and tomorrow, she needed to take a blood test because ever since the accident, her health was getting suspicious. Y/N decided to confront her mother at the doctor tomorrow and teach her a lesson that yelling at a depressed person was not smart at all. Now that she's a self-published author, she's busy writing about her life to inspire and teach others. Her mother needed to learn too.

"Sweetspark, when I heard about your accident, I was very worried," Optimus said, who randomly appeared behind her.

Y/N turned around fully to let her neck heal. "I am fine now. Just giving my neck time to heal. Sorry about worrying you..." She felt ashamed.

Optimus wrapped her arms around her waist, causing her to relax and lean gently against him. "Please remember that you're not alone, sweetspark. We all are here to help you. What your carrier did was not smart but I am proud of you that you'll confront her about it."

Y/N only hummed and couldn't help but smile when she felt him leaving soft kisses where she felt pain at her neck and head area. She giggled and Optimus smiled.

P.S. when Y/N became an author, only her second ex, her family, and her followers on Wattpad congratulated her. None of her friends did. Do you consider this disrespectful rude or heartless?

Yes, readers. Every detail left there is all the truth, including the yelling as well. I got the first shot of the corona vaccine and I feel still small pain but it's not bad luckily like the HPV vaccine I got once. So painfully... But my mother feared that soon the entire country will force everyone to get vaccinated, except kids under 12. Sorry to disappoint you all about the shot... The part at the end of my friends not congratulating me is also the truth :(. Darn blood test tomorrow! I have a phobia of needles...

[rawmeknockout]

(Never requested before, sorry if I submitted wrong) Rumble/bot!Reader/Frenzy smut. That's it. Literally all I want out of life. Plz?

You’re not as loyal and upstanding as your comrades seem to think. Everyone talks big about you, looks to you for a dependable ally. It’s not that you’re some goody two shoes like Optimus, looking to be a hero and save Earth. You have no reason to break the rules. Nothing in life seems so important to get in trouble over. You like to be unseen. Passed over, if you can help it. That’s how you will survive.

That being said, you also don’t fuck around with enemy mechs, despite it being fairly common. You’re particular about your berth partners, and if there’s not an Autobot who can match your taste you don’t think there will be a Decepticon worthy of your attention.

You think that until you see them. Those two loud, feisty minicons; cassettes paired with Soundwave. The SIC never caught your interest, besides being a royal pain in the aft, but now you look for him on the battlefield. Giddy with the possibility that he could call out the only two bots to spice up your mundane life: Rumble and Frenzy.

You’re processor almost short circuits when Frenzy knocks you back into the rocks. You’re far from your allies, at least you think you are. It’s hard to focus on anything but black and red paint, scuffed from battle but shining nonetheless. He’s on you in an instant, faster than you can recover. You do your best to kick him off, but Frenzy is scrappy and knocks you hard in the jaw leaving your audials and denta ringing. He’s so short, hardly able to straddle your torso, but the size difference doesn’t deter him. If anything he has something to prove.

“No where to run, Autobot. We’re gonna send you back to Optimus in pieces,” Frenzy spits venom, face alive with the promise of gore and fire. You want to retort but your glossa is tied. Two minicons shouldn’t be such a challenge, but your processor is fried and they’re more aggressive than the average Decepticon. You shove at him, return punches and kicks when you can, but you’re pinned like a squashed cockroach. Alive and squirming and feeling. Your EM field intermingles with Frenzy’s, feeling his rage and lust for spilled energon. It scares you but draws you in all the same. The two of you squirm in the dirt, fighting each other with limbs flailing and denta gritting. He senses that part of you that’s not entirely wrapped up in surviving, that thing you try to hide from other mechs. You’re in his space so long that you forget where his field ends, absorbed and enthralled by his overwhelming energy.

“You’re pretty obsessed with us, huh, mech?” Rumble peers over his brother at your familiar, beaten face, servos on his hips, looking much like a vicious ringleader. He may just be teasing, cruelly mocking you, but something in his tone sounds pointed, “Always up in our business. We’re gonna show you what happens to curious Autobots,”

Their fields are all consuming, all you can focus on. Mingling around you and feeling your fear, your apprehension, your anticipation. That burning in your processor you try to ignore.

Rough servos on you, hauling you up into a more suitable position, is enough to make your spark burst.

“Don’t mistake this for anything else. If we ever want to get our spikes wet, we have to do it before Megatron rips you apart for information,” Rumble is kind enough to inform you, tone brusque and unconcerned. You suppose he has nothing to be concerned about, but you desperately wish it was shade warmer. Slightly more flustered. Anything that would indicate this is anything but a conquering.

You don’t pay any mind where their fingers go, lips and mind preoccupied with Frenzy. He almost tastes like the suffering he has inflicted, like a million steel knives. His servos are rougher that Rumble’s, made for grabbing and tearing and taking, feeling your armor for seams and weak points. You don’t remember why you are infatuated with them, what could be appealing about roughness and cruelty in bots so small.

Rumble isn’t teasing or tentative with your valve, set on what he wants, digits working your calipers none-too-gently. But his face isn’t drawn into downwards scowl like Frenzy’s, hard lines like a mesa, focused on what he’s doing. He gives no warning besides the sound of his interface panel transforming away, pushing into you without even much of a grunt. His chassis shakes with a sigh, though, and his shoulders slump down like you’ve relieved a burden. It’s a burden you’re more than willing to take, as he sets a brutal pace. He moves quicker than you expected from someone so small and bulky. It’s always a surprise the intensity Rumble harbors, but your hips move and buck into him. It’s almost painful, his armored thighs hitting your aft at such a rough speed.

Frenzy doesn’t appreciate your distraction, servos grabbing the sides of your face to refocus your optics on him. Recenter your mouth on his. You expect his interface panel to snap away like Rumble’s, but he’s too focused on feeling your glossa and denta. Focused on digging his blunt digits in every nook he can find on your chest armor. The most he gives you is taking your own slimmer servo and pushing it up against his array panel, grinding the burning hot metal on your palm. You take anything he gives you eagerly, trying to reciprocate the ferocity in Frenzy’s field. Trying desperately to quell your single-minded obsession.

Frenzy’s glossa is sliding over your molars, his panel slick with trans fluid on your palm, when Rumble overloads deep in your valve with a stuttered, choked groan from his open mouth. Overloading has never been so overwhelming, come over you so quickly. You don’t even have the time to appreciate how satisfying it is, because you’re only aware of how empty and cold you are when you’re not surrounded by the suffocating fire and fury of Rumble and Frenzy.

In the sudden harsh silence of a huge mistake, there’s a distant cry of “Decepticons, retreat.” They look torn between the trouble of taking you as a prisoner, and simply leaving. Without a word Rumble and Frenzy come to the conclusion you’re too much work, leaving you collapsed and overheated on the ground like they had never been there.

You had thought this would stamp out the fire in your stomach, destroy the intense focus they drew from you, but even in the aftermath you feel something gnawing at your processor. Something that will always be hungry.

[petitelepus]

MTMTE Helex and 30

WARNING; CANNIBALISM, EATING SOMEONE ALIVE, GORE, ROBOT BLOOD, ENERGON, DO NOT READ IF YOU GET SICK EASILY!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

"Alright, team!" Tarn started, getting every Decepticon's attention to him. The feared leader of the famous Decepticon Justice Division looked at his team as he took the remote and clicked the huge projector on, showing their next traitor.

"Our next target is infamous coward ChainWreck. Like their name suggest they left their position as a front liner back at war and-" Tarn stopped suddenly and looked around the room. A second passed and he squinted his optics and turned his glare on one of his men.

"Dammit, Helex!" Tarn shouted and the huge con saluted his leader. "Yes Tarn?"

"Where in the name of almighty Megatron is your Conjunx? This is the third meeting they are late of!" The purple con shouted and Helex was honestly just as clueless as his leader was. "I don't know? It's not like I'm glued to them 24/7."

"Maybe you should be so then you wouldn't lose your Conjunx!" Tarn snapped and took a step back, quickly taking some calming inhales before looking at his teammate again. "I'm sorry Helex, I shouldn't have snapped like that. That wasn't fair of me."

"It's alright." The huge smelter said but he frowned and that didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the team.

"Uuh, this doesn't belong to me but is everything alright with you guys?" Tesaurus asked and Helex frowned. "Nothing out of ordinary."

"C'mon Helex, this is a safe space." Kaon said and Vos spoke in Primal Vernacular and Kaon smiled a little, "Vos is right, you can tell what's in your mind."

"It's just...!" Helex frowned even deeper and grounded his denta together in frustration. "They have been avoiding me and been distant... And I fear they might be... Planning to run away..."

"Helex..." Everyone looked at each other sadly. The big guy was really in love with you, but if you truly wanted to get away... It would break his spark. But there was the big IF in the room that had to be handled.

"With all due respect, you do know what we must do if they have strained off from our holy mission?" Tesaurus asked and Helex nodded. Leaving Decepticon Justice Division was simple. You didn't. But if for some magical reason you decided to really leave for good then you would do it with your spark extinguished for good.

"Yeah... Just..." The huge smelter nodded and quickly wiped his face with his smaller set of hands, "Let me do it. I don't want anyone else to dimmer their spark..."

"We are here for you if you need us."

Helex smiled. He was truly lucky to have such an amazing leader, team, friends, and perhaps even family. Suddenly the door to the room slid open and everyone turned to look who dared to enter but they saw it was you.

"Hi guys." You greeted them and they all blinked in shock. You were covered in energon from helm to pede but worst was your face. Everyone looked at you and you kinda just whistled there like you were picking flowers and not covered in gore.

Helex felt his spark freeze and he quickly got up and ran to you, grabbing your arms with his bigger hands and your face with his smaller pair.

"Primus, what happened to you!? Are you hurt, what happened?! Who hurt you!?"

"Nothing! You should see the other guy. He is the one you should worry about," You snapped and your Conjunx let go of you and you frowned. "What did you do?"

"I got the traitor. ChainWreck? Dealt with him." You said and every Decepticon in the room blinked. ChainWreck was a huge tank and a coward? Yes, but you claimed that you had handled him all by yourself? You were barely as big as Kaon, how would you have managed that?

"You say you took down a tank, all by yourself?" Tarn asked suspiciously. You nodded and smiled, "The guy never saw me coming."

"Pardon my attitude, but I find it hard to believe you." The purple con said, "Don't get me wrong, I believe he didn't see you, but that you took him down yourself? I think I need proof."

It was clear that Tarn was suspicious of you, but you just rolled your optics, "You get your proof but first...!" You turned your attention back to your Conjunx and smiled happily.

"Happy Anniversary hot stuff!" You cheered and Helex stared at you with his crimson optics wide as a smile slowly rose to his face. "You remembered?"

"Of course! How could I forget the day you and I promised to be with each other until the day we wouldn't be?"

"But... If you remembered then why have you been avoiding me?"

"I was planning your Anniversary gift! I wanted it to be a surprise." You said and with a click, you opened your subspace and pulled out a gift packet wrapped in blue paper and tied with red ribbon.

You gave the gift to your lover and he took it happily. It looked just like any other gift-wrapped packet... if only there wasn't energon dripping from the packet's bottom seams.

"What the frag is in that packet?" Tarn asked but Helex and you completely ignored your leader as you stared at each other's optics.

"Proof of my loyalty and my love." You murmured just loud enough so everyone could hear and Helex's optics softened. Tarn blinked. "No, seriously, what's in the box?"

"Go ahead hot stuff." You nodded, "Open it."

The huge smelter looked at the box in his huge hands and used his smaller set of arms to open the lid. What he saw made his optics widen and spark swell in his chassis.

"You got me ChainWreck's brain module!" He gasped as he picked the module with his smaller hand and lifted it to the light so he could inspect it in its full glory. "It's even perfectly removed from the helm!"

"Only the best for my Conjunx" You cheered and Helex didn't wait any longer, he swiped you into his bigger arms and kissed you on your energon covered lips. The rest of the DJD averted their eyes, giving you the privacy you should have asked for, but were too horny to do so.

"You taste absolutely delicious...!" Helex growled when you two pulled back and you practically purred at him with your yellow optics gleaming, "Must be the fuel pump I ate."

"You ate the fuel pump? That's the juiciest part of the mech!" Your huge Conjunx smiled and you grinned back at him. "It was so plump, I wish I had you there sharing it."

Other Decepticons looked almost sick but Tarn toughened up and looked at you. "I hate to break the sweet moment between you two, but we must address the matter. Did ChainWreck suffer?"

"Oh, he did suffer. Really badly, might I add." You said and your leader blinked, "Don't tell me you-!"

"Oh, nothing like that Tarn!" You swatted your hand over air and the feared Decepticon sighed in relief. You smiled, "I ate him while he was stunned by my stun gun."

"He was alive!?"

"Oh yeah, they're the best when they scream." You licked your lips at the memory and rubbed your stomach. "So warm and juicy."

"I think I'm getting sick..." Tesaurus grumbled as he held his own stomach. That was so hypocritical of him, he put cons and bots alive into his blender and he was getting squeamish for you eating a traitor.

Vos said something, but you weren't fluent in Primal Vernacular like the rest of the DJD. Kaon took the Pet and left when the brain module was pulled out. But there was this another question that popped up.

"You didn't think I'd betray our Holy cause?" You looked almost hurt as you asked and Helex felt horrible for even thinking about it for a second. You frowned and grabbed his huge hands to get his attention and finally, he turned his optics back to you.

You smiled, "I’ll always be here for you, but if anything was to happen to me I want you to eat me. And of course, I expect you to offer yourself for me to eat if it goes another way around."

"That would be my honor. I can't imagine a better fate than being eaten by my loving Conjunx."

"Primus, are you two hearing yourselves!?" Tarn shouted in the background but the two of you completely ignored him.

"I didn't get you anything..." Your love said, sounding disappointed in himself but you smiled and pecked his hands. "It's okay. When you're done eating that brain module then perhaps... You could eat me out?"

"Why won't we share the brain and then eat each other?" Helex grinned back at you and you giggled as blush ghosted over your cheeks. "You huge flirt! Are you sure you're not on? Because you're making me feel hot~!"

"That's it!" Tarn snapped, "Everyone out! The meeting is over! And you two better shut your room door properly or I'm writing a warning to you two!"

[starvonnie]

Do You Remember?

Day 1 of Megarod week! Prompt: Faction Rating: Explicit Fandoms: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types Relationship: Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime Characters: Megatron (Transformers),Hot Rod (Transformers),Rodimus | Rodimus Prime,Impactor (Transformers) Additional Tags: Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Drinking, Shower Sex, Size Difference, Stomach Bulge, One Night Stands, kind of Also on AO3

“You’ve got an admirer,” Impactor said with a smile, gesturing with his helm over Megatron’s shoulder.

He turned, curiously, to meet bright blue optics for just a moment before the fiery little mech whipped his helm around.  He tried to look fascinated with a stain on the wall.  He wasn’t a very good actor.  Good thing he was cute.

Impactor chuckled.  “Go buy him a drink.  He’s totally your type.”

“I don’t have a type.”  

“Then all the more reason to go buy him a drink.”

“You’re not gonna drop this are you?”

“Nope.”

Megatron sighed.

“C’mon, mech, when was the last time you got some action?”

Megatron rolled his optics.  “I don’t care about that.”

“So you’re telling me if that hot piece of aft came over here and said ‘take me home and frag me’ you’d say ‘no?’”

Megatron sighed again.  “He’s not going to do that, though.”

“Well, no, probably not.  You’ve gotta pretend to be interested in their personality for a while and subtly ask them to frag you.  Either way, if you don’t go buy him a drink I will.”

Megatron looked back his way again, and again the mech quickly turned his helm the other way.  If only so Impactor wouldn’t get to him…  “Alright. Wish me luck.”

His spark was in his throat as he made his way across the bar.  His usually steady hands shook.  He felt like at any second, he might keel over from nervousness alone. He was worried that his voicebox wouldn’t work when he tried it, but when Matrix-blue optics found him once more, holding his gaze this time, he felt his fears melting away.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Megatron asked.

The flame-coloured mech smirked.  “Only if you let me buy you one, too.”

Megatron found himself smiling.  “I suppose I could allow that.”

He patted the stool next to him, and when Megatron sat, he offered him his hand to shake.  “Hot Rod.”

“Megatron.”  He shook his hand—and his dwarfed Hot Rod’s.  He was so tiny.

“It suits you.”

Megatron glanced down at the flame decal on Hot Rod’s chest.  “As does yours.”

Hot Rod waved the bartender over, and they each put their orders in on the others’ tab.  The bartender looked a little confused at that, but smiled at them and got to making their drinks.

“You like sweet things then?” Megatron asked, gesturing to the fizzy, hot pink drink presented to Hot Rod in a flourish.

“Listen, I’m not here to taste the engex.”  He made a face.  “This,” he lifted the drink, “is just an excuse to make bad decisions.”

“Am I the first one of those bad decisions?” Megatron asked with a mischievous glint in his optic.  He took a sip while Hot Rod laughed.  He had a laugh that made Megatron want to make a fool of himself if it meant he could hear it again.

Hot Rod shrugged.  “I’m not sure yet.  I suppose whether or not it’s good or bad is up to you.  Seems like a pretty good idea so far.”  He smiled, cocksure, but beneath that there was an endearing shyness. “So… you come here often?”

Megatron chuckled.  “Maybe not ‘often,’ but whenever Impactor and I have some time off together this is usually where we go.”

“I’m guessing Impactor is the one currently making out with a minibot?”  He gestured amusedly back to their booth, and sure enough, Impactor had a lapful of a little purple bot.  They seemed oblivious to the rest of the world.

Megatron sighed.  “Yeah, that would be him.  I think he told me to come over here just to get rid of me.  He said there was a little speedster over here staring at me.”

Hot Rod scoffed.  “Hey, I’m not small you’re huge!”

“But you were staring at me.”

Hot Rod’s face turned nearly the same colour as his drink.  “Sorry, you just… have a really pretty smile.”

It was Megatron’s turn to blush.  

“Sorry, I… don’t really do this much,” Hot Rod admitted.  “Well… more like ever.  It’s not really my scene.”

“Nor do I.  Like I said, Impactor was the one to get me to come over.”

Hot Rod’s spoiler dipped a little.

“Not that I wouldn’t have, I just don’t really flirt much, but you are cute so I, I probably would have come over.  If I were. Like that.”

Hot Rod giggled.  “Don’t blow a gasket.  I get it.” He smirked.  “You think I’m cute, though, hm?”  He scooted a little closer on his barstool, leaning in, “Because I think you’re—”  Hot Rod flailed as he slipped off his stool, spilling his drink and falling forward onto Megatron.  His whole face and the tips of his spoiler turned a bright red.  “Sorry!’

“Careful.”  Megatron helped right him.  “I think that’s the fastest anyone’s ever fallen for me.”

“I think I’m going to go crawl into a hole and die now.”

Megatron laughed.  “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“I’m a bit dramatic.”  He managed a shy smile, but it fell when he glanced around him, seeing other bots looking at him.  

“Everyone’s too drunk to care,” Megatron said quietly, trying to reassure him. “Half of them probably can’t remember the last five seconds.”

Hot Rod laughed, still ducking his helm in embarrassment.  “Maybe we… get a booth?  Something not so open?”

“If privacy is what you want… we could take this back to my place.”

“Oh! I, uh, I…”

“Or not.  No pressure.”

“No, I, I want to.  Yeah, let’s… let’s do it!”

Hot Rod paid his tab and apologized for the spill, and in his excitement Megatron nearly forgot to pay his own tab.  Once they were both settled up, they made their way outside.  The cool air quickly chilled their frames and Hot Rod started to shiver.

“Cold?”

Hot Rod nodded, denta chattering.

“May I?”  Megatron held his arm out, hovering, until Hot Rod snuggled up to him and he wrapped his arm around his shoulders.  “It’s not a long walk.”

Hot Rod put his arm around Megatron’s waist.  “Good.  I think I’m gonna need a real workout to warm up.”

Despite the chill in the air, Megatron’s cooling fans came roaring on.  Hot Rod giggled and gave him a half-amused, half-sultry look.

A few blocks of mild embarrassment and comfortable silence later, and they were at his building and riding up the elevator.

“It’s nothing fancy,” Megatron said.

Hot Rod shrugged.  “You got a berth?”

Megatron nodded.

“Then I think it’ll do just fine.”

In every movie Megatron had ever seen, when they brought someone home, it was a fast, steamy frag.  But once inside, he just held Hot Rod’s hand while the little speedster gave him a soft look.  

“We don’t have to interface if you don’t want to,” Megatron said.  “I just wanted to be alone with you.”

Hot Rod blushed.  “I mean… I want to, if you’re down.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Geez, don’t sound so excited,” Hot Rod teased.  He beckoned Megatron down.  Megatron obliged him, turning his helm slightly since he assumed he wanted to whisper something to him, but he had assumed wrong.  Happily, mind you, since he’d pressed soft lips to his.  

Once they’d touched, he understood.  He wanted to pull Hot Rod close.  He wanted their heated plating flush.  He wanted to hear Hot Rod moan his name and beg him for more.  And his new friend got right to it.  His hand slid right down over Megatron’s modesty panel, revving his engine.

Megatron deepened their kiss, focusing on how Hot Rod’s glossa slid against his own. But all the focus in the world couldn’t have kept his spike from springing out into the waiting hands of Hot Rod.

Hot Rod smiled as he pulled away slightly.  “Look at you.  Hard for me already?”  His hand was almost comically small, stroking his shaft.  

“Who wouldn’t be?”  Megatron kissed him again.  He caressed down Hot Rod’s frame, pausing just above his heated panels.  He stifled a chuckle when Hot Rod made a quiet, impatient noise.  He teased the edge just a little longer, before sliding two fingers between legs spreading for him.  He’d barely felt the steaming metal before his finger was sliding through wet folds.

Hot Rod gasped and then ground against his hand.  He mouthed at Megatron in an almost-kiss, but it was clear his processor had dropped to his array.  

Megatron just barely pressed in, hearing Hot Rod hold his ventilations, then right back out.  He circled his anterior node a few times and whispered right in his audial.  “The berth awaits us.”

“Tease,” Hot Rod said.  But he smiled and took hold of Megatron’s hand—the one that wasn’t wet with his lubricants—and pulled him along.  He backed himself up against the berth, letting himself fall back onto it as Megatron came up over him.

Hot Rod stopped him, and when Megatron looked at his face there was a little fear in his optics.  “Um… I’m gonna need you to, uh… work me up to… that.”  He nodded towards his twitching spike.

“Of course,” Megatron said, his voice deep and rumbling.

“Not that I can’t take that size, because I can.”

Megatron chuckled.  “Even if you could take me right away, it’s much more fun to tease you until you beg me for it.”

“Do your worst, Megatron.”  Hot Rod smirked up at him; a challenge.  “Well, maybe not your worst.  Your restrained worst.  Just to start.  After that you can get as rough with me as you want.”

In an act that was anything but rough, Megatron kissed up his jawline.  “I’m not so sure I want to be rough with you.”

Hot Rod shrugged.  “I’m down for literally anything.  I’ve agreed to a lot of stuff tonight that I’ve never done before, and so far, it’s been amazing.”

Megatron smiled.  “It has.”

He kissed him before he finally pushed a finger into that warm, welcoming valve. He captured Hot Rod’s first moan in their kiss, and then the second as he pushed deeper.  The third he let escape, as his fingertip brushed his ceiling nodes.  It was surprisingly quiet.  Given the flames blazing across his chest, he assumed everything he did was quick, brash, and loud.  Just like fire.

In one way, he was fire.  Every sound, movement, and every glazed-over glance he gave Megatron had crackling heat racing through his veins.  He wouldn’t have been surprised to find soot coating his plating.  And he wouldn’t have cared one bit.

Hot Rod moaned and clawed at Megatron’s back.  He crooked his finger and pulled more of those sweet sounds from his small frame.  He was dripping everywhere and it took a great deal of restraint to not slip his spike in that wet heat and rut into him.

“I can take more,” Hot Rod whispered.  

“You’re sure?”

He nodded emphatically.  “I’m not as breakable as I look.”

Megatron couldn’t help the rev of his engine as he pushed a second finger in. It was a snug fit, but Hot Rod shuddered with pleasure and rocked his hips forward.  Each press in made a wet sound as his fingertips met with ceiling nodes and a gasp from Hot Rod.

All the while, he kissed and nipped at his neck.  Each bite would have Hot Rod holding his ventilations, until fanged denta released him, relatively unscathed.  Tomorrow it would be easy to guess what Hot Rod had been up to the night before.  Same with Megatron, if you looked at his back.  His bright hands left golden trails where his fingers dug in.  

Megatron scissored his fingers, testing his valve.  It opened easily.  Hot Rod groaned and his optics rolled back into his helm.  His biolights pulsed with his arousal, and their position made it seem like they were pointing down to where Megatron’s hand was splitting him open.

“You’re sure you don’t do this often?”  Megatron kept his voice sultry as he asked this.  He quirked up a brow and kept kissing at his neck, jaw, and collarbone.

“Well, I… it’s not like I haven’t with y’know… big bots but—ah…”  He took a few deep, shuddering ventilations.  “On my own, I like to—nhh!... push myself.”  He smiled and bit his lip.

“Is that so?”  Megatron didn’t wait for an answer before capturing his lips in a kiss and biting his lower lips himself.  He got bitten back as he pulled away.  

Hot Rod smiled up at him mischievously.  He easily stole that expression with the crook of his fingers.  He gave him a little pout and then said, “I’m ready. Get on your back.”

“Oh?”

Hot Rod guided him to where he wanted him, straddling him with lubricant-soaked thighs.  The red biolights ringing his valve were a pretty invitation for his spike.  He was a little jealous, but only a little.  If he couldn’t have his own, he’d enjoy Hot Rod’s as that light swallowed him.

“Think you can handle me?” Hot Rod taunted when he caught Megatron staring.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

He smirked.  “Oh, I know I can take this.  But I dunno about you.”  He ran his wet folds along the underside of Megatron’s spike.  It twitched involuntarily.  

“Then let’s find out, shall we?”

Hot Rod let just the tip slip in.  “Oh… we shall.”  He sank down on Megatron’s spike with a soft moan.  He took a few deep ventilations with a hand on his abdomen.  He stroked the bulge Megatron’s spike made.  “Primus, you’re huge.”

“Am I hurting you?”

Hot Rod shook his helm, smiling wide.  “Quite the opposite.”

He lifted up a bit then sunk back down a few times, watching his armour flex. His field flared with lust as he picked up the pace, smiling clumsily at Megatron all the while.

Megatron gripped his calves and gave little thrusts up to meet him.  He let his helm come to rest and shut his optics, sighing with pleasure.  He had to focus a bit on not overloading too soon because, well… it had been a while. It didn’t help that every erotic noise Hot Rod made just added to his arousal.

Hot Rod bit his lip and picked up the pace a bit, leaning forward.  Every time he took Megatron’s spike to the hilt, he would grind his anterior node against Megatron’s plating.  It arced and had Hot Rod chasing that feeling.  Faster, harder.  His warm, snug valve swallowed his spike again and again until Hot Rod could do nothing but pant and hold on.  Megatron kept pace with him, feeling his overload building all too-quickly, when Hot Rod suddenly cried out and threw his helm back.  His optics flashed white and his cooling fans roared as he slumped forward.

Ventilating deeply, Hot Rod said, “Frag… I needed that.”  With shaking arms, he lifted himself just enough to see Megatron’s face. “Sorry.  It’s, uh… been a while.”

Megatron chuckled.  “It’s fine. I was getting close, myself.”

“Don’t worry.”  Hot Rod smiled sloppily.  “I’ll getcha there, too.  Just need a minute to rest.”

“Take your time.  I have nowhere to be.”  He stroked up Hot Rod’s waist, delighting in the shiver of his frame.  He even got a few gasps as he kept his lust alive, but it turned into a flinch when his fingertips brushed his spoiler.

“Not there right now,” Hot Rod said.  “Normally I like having my spoiler touched.  It feels real good.  But right after an overload its really sensitive.”

Megatron let his hands slide back down to his waist and then he hugged him.  “Remind me of that in a few minutes.”

“Heh. Will do.”  Hot Rod nuzzled against his chest.  

Megatron twitched his spike, getting a deserved glare from Hot Rod.

He smiled.  “Sorry, honest mistake.”

“Uh huh.”  Hot Rod rolled his optics.  “You’re just mad that you’re still horny.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Hot Rod blew a raspberry.  “If you wanna go again so badly you gotta take over.”

Megatron shrugged.  “Alright. Hold on, then.”

With a smile and a bite to his lower lip, Hot Rod wrapped his arms around him. As soon as he was secure, Megatron flipped them.  He took a moment to admire the pretty package beneath him.  Staring up at him with eager, lustful optics.  That sight alone would be enough to make him overload.

“You’re beautiful,” Megatron said a little too honestly.

Somehow, Hot Rod’s face managed to turn a deeper shade of red.  He hid behind his hands, but Megatron could still see his beaming smile.

“Shut up.”

Megatron chuckled.  “But you are. And right now, you’re being adorable.”

Hot Rod peeked out from his hiding place, and that only served to make him look cuter.  In a meek voice, he said, “You’re beautiful, too.”

Megatron rolled his optics and shook his helm with a small smile.  “You don’t need to lie to me, Hot Rod.  I don’t expect a compliment back.

“But you are,” Hot Rod insisted.  “Your smile, your optics… not to mention you’re just… rugged.  Like, in a really hot way.”  His spoiler flapped against the berth, trying to dispel heat. “I’m not good with words.”

Megatron kissed him to spare him further embarrassment.  But also because he just wanted to kiss him.  There was something about this little speedster.  He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew that he wanted to be close to him.

The smell of ozone and wafting steam surrounded them.  He tasted the remnants of Hot Rod’s overly sweet drink on his lips, and what would have been too much to drink himself, made him kiss him deeper. Really savouring it.  He savoured the feel of Hot Rod’s hands, too.  All over him.  They dragged electricity along his plating and coaxed him into a gentle rhythm that had Hot Rod sighing happily.

His ventilations a little laboured, Megatron said, “It’s been a while for me, too.”

Hot Rod laughed.  “You gonna blow your load already?”

Megatron chuckled.  “Not right away, but soon, yes.”

“Take it slow, then.”  Hot Rod pulled him down for a kiss.  “You feel really good… I wanna savour it.”

“Says the mech who came after two minutes.”

“It was like four.”

Megatron laughed and kissed him one more time.  “I’m fine with taking my time.  The night’s still young.”

Hot Rod relaxed into his berth with a sigh.  He looked up at Megatron with big, round, sparkling optics, his arms splayed out on either side.  Open, and vulnerable.  There was this air of trust in his field that made him glad he’d been the one to pick him up from that seedy bar.  Most of them would have taken him in and then tossed him out, but Megatron, well… he really hoped this wouldn’t be the last time he got to see him.

It had been a long time since he’d interfaced at all, but even longer since he’d done something so… slow.  Gentle. Watching Hot Rod’s face, soft and languid with pleasure, he wanted to call it love.  

It wasn’t, obviously.  Love at first sight, or even first frag, didn’t exist.  Lust?  Infatuation? Of course.  But this felt like more.  He saw what could easily become love.  Like a new, exciting path had opened up in his life.  And he knew it was foolish to even dream of anything beyond this night, but hope so rarely found his spark.

So, he enjoyed the moment.  He slowly fragged him, drawing out all these soft sounds.  He wanted to kiss him, but then he wouldn’t hear them.  Or see his optics flutter closed.  Or see him shift just a little bit closer.  

And there was his spoiler.

This time, when his hands met the sensitive metal, Hot Rod moaned and squirmed. He gripped the sheets and arched off of the berth, moaning Megatron’s name.

“Good?” Megatron checked in, just in case.

“So good.”  Hot Rod met his gaze briefly before another caress of his spoiler had his optics closing with a long, low moan.

Megatron quickened his pace just a little.  He leaned down to use his mouth, instead, and when his glossa swirled around the pointed tip of his spoiler, Hot Rod rolled his hips to match Megatron’s rhythm. He left more scratches on Megatron’s back as another overload suddenly hit him, arching further and gasping.

His calipers cycled down on Megatron’s girth.  He moaned and thrust erratically.  Hot Rod’s calipers rippled around his spike, pulling him deeper and deeper until he bottomed out, transfluid gushing out around his spike.  He thrust a few more times until Hot Rod had milked him of all that he had.

Being careful not to crush Hot Rod, Megatron rolled off of him.  

Hot Rod was left gaping and dripping.  Out of breath, he said, “I think you’re gonna make me walk funny tomorrow.”  He gave Megatron a wobbly smile.  “Not complaining.”

Megatron chuckled.  He rubbed Hot Rod’s belly, still marvelling how he’d managed to take his spike without that much difficulty.

“I didn’t hurt you, right?”

Hot Rod shook his helm.  “That was one of the best frags of my life.”

Megatron couldn’t help but smirk.  “I try.”

“Can we try again?”

Megatron chuckled again.  “How about we get cleaned up, instead?  It’s a small shower, so you can use it first.”

“What? After fragging me into the berth you’re too shy to share a shower with me?”  Hot Rod shook his helm.  “Nah. We’re showering together. Because I wouldn’t mind getting a little dirtier before we get clean.”

“In that case…”  Megatron got out of berth and swept a surprised Hot Rod up into his arms. He let out an endearing little squeak, and he hoped he didn’t mind when he nuzzled against him.  He assumed not, since he nuzzled him back.

Why did this all feel so right?  

The shower really was cramped.  Even when Megatron was alone he found himself hitting his elbows against the wall.  But with Hot Rod there, wanting to be close to him, it felt like the perfect amount of space.  

Unfortunately, with the difference in their height, it made kissing next to impossible, but they found a way.  Though after a few, Megatron had to be the responsible one and actually clean the fluids from their frames.  It didn’t help that Hot Rod curved his frame in just the right way to get his hands where he wanted them.  And that he stuck his aft out so it rubbed up against his array.  All that paired with the sultry looks over his shoulder, and it took all of Megatron’s willpower not to succumb to him.

The willpower that was cracking away.

“Insatiable, aren’t you?” Megatron purred in his audial.

“Just another quick frag,” Hot Rod temped him. His aft swayed in a figure eight. “You know you want to.”

When his valve cover snapped open and newer, warmer lubricants dripped down his panels, all his resolve vanished.  Megatron easily picked Hot Rod up and impaled him on his length.  He thrust into him, pressed Hot Rod into the tiled wall.  His moans echoed around them and spurred him on.  

He felt the bulge his spike made beneath his fingers, tight around Hot Rod’s waist.  Nearly too much spike for his little frame.  And yet, Hot Rod kept begging for more, more.  Harder. Faster.

Oral lubricants dripped from Hot Rod’s open mouth. He tried to speak, but it was incoherent.  Megatron couldn’t find the words either.  He just pounded away at that welcoming valve.

The water made everything that much more slippery. The only secure hold he could find was wrapping his arms around Hot Rod’s waist, giving him everything he had.  It was the complete opposite of their first time, but just as pleasurable.  It wasn’t long before Megatron was spilling more fluids into Hot Rod’s tank, and hearing him moan his name.

A satiated Hot Rod was much easier to clean.  He seemed too tired to do much of anything, so Megatron gently lathered and rinsed him, giving him a few pecks here and there.

Hot Rod’s smile was wobbly as he leaned much of his weight onto Megatron.  He attempted to return the favour, but after a few clumsy tries Megatron kissed him and whispered, “Just relax.  I’ll finish up soon and then we’ll settle down into berth.  That is, if you wanted to stay the night?”

Hot Rod nodded.  “If that’s alright with you.”

“As long as you’re alright with some cuddling.”

“I’m always down to cuddle.”

Megatron kissed him on his forehelm and got himself mostly clean.  It was enough to be able to cuddle without grossing Hot Rod out, anyways.  Though it seemed like he wouldn’t care either way.  But he wanted to impress him.  Or at least not be gross.  

What a strange night.

Finishing up, Megatron shut the water off and dried the both of them off.  Hot Rod once again made it a challenge by stopping him to kiss and just generally being quite handsy.  It was hard to get annoyed, though.  Hot Rod’s interruptions were hardly a nuisance.  He’d let him distract him all day if that distraction was a hand stroking up his chest or a kiss to his chin when he stooped down.

Eventually, he managed to dry them both off, and then he picked Hot Rod up once more, laying him down in berth.  He was barely in before Hot Rod was snuggled up to him. He cutely nuzzled against him, resting his helm on his chest.  

They stayed like that for a while, just enjoying the silence and closeness.  Megatron thought Hot Rod had fallen asleep when he spoke up.

“Do you believe in fate?” Hot Rod asked quietly.

Megatron sighed thoughtfully.  “Well… I’m not one to believe that everything happens for a reason.  I think, most of the time, what we think of as fate is just one of an infinite number of possibilities.  Coincidences are bound to happen.”

“Oh…”

“Oh?”

Hot Rod shrugged.  “I dunno if I believe-believe in fate, but something drew me to you.  Beyond just your smile.”

Megatron gently stroked his spoiler.

“I think…”  Hot Rod traced a crack in Megatron’s chest plating.  “Some sparks are just drawn too each other and we don’t know why.  I dunno.  I’ve heard some bots say that maybe it’s because our atoms or whatever were close to each other when the universe was created.”  When shy blue optics rose to meet steady red, he flushed pink.  “Uh… not that I’m like saying we’re soulmates or anything like that—I barely know you—but… and maybe it’s just me, but something about you feels… special.  Like I’m supposed to be here.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Megatron said, “but I can say that I’ve thoroughly enjoyed your company.  And I want to see you again.  Perhaps for an actual date?”

“Oh, well, I… I’m not gonna be in Tarn for long,” he admitted meekly.

The room felt noticeably heavier when both of their fields turned somber.

“Sorry, I… I live in Nyon.  I just came here for a visit.”

That new path he’d imagined faded into shadows.  He saw Hot Rod walk off without him, and it hurt more than it should.

Pushing past these new, dumb emotions that he shouldn’t even be having, he said “In that case… if you’re ever in Tarn, you know where to find me.”

Hot Rod gave him a bittersweet smile.  “You can call me if you’re ever around Nyon, too.  I wouldn’t exactly call it a great vacation spot, but I could show you around.”

“It’s not like I get much vacation.”

“Oh. Right.  Is it?  As bad as they say it is down there?”

Megatron’s optics dimmed.  

“Sorry.  You don’t have to answer that, it was rude of me to ask.”

“Let’s just say that I greatly prefer being above ground, here, with you.”

Hot Rod smiled.  “Me, too.”

 These two sparks would meet again, millions of years later.  One hidden behind red and one behind violet.  There was no rosy glow.  No easy conversation.  Not even a pleasantry passed between them.  There was only a fusion cannon, levelled at the red that protected Hot Rod’s spark.

Should he say something?  Did he even remember him?  Had everything he said been a lie?

Hot Rod wasn’t given much time to think before a photon round ripped through his frame and left him floating, near-death, in the void of space.  The Megatron he had met had long since died. That sweet smile was gone.

And Hot Rod was going to die. "You remember that night, don't you?"

Megatron sighed.  He figured this would happen, eventually, but it had been so long he’d assumed Rodimus wanted to forget all about it.  "That was a long time ago, Rodimus."

"But you remember it. Which means you've thought about it."

“We’re around each other enough.  It’s hard not to think about it.”

“Okay, then, what are your thoughts on it?”

“I think it happened millions of years ago.”

“And? A ton of shit happened millions of years ago that I still remember clearly.  That night is one of them.  I had a good time and I thought you did, too.  I would’ve gone for you if we lived in the same city, and now we’re here together, so…”  Rodimus fidgeted.

“… So?”

“So… I dunno.  It felt like fate that night and now that you’re here it really feels like fate.  I just want to know where your head’s at on all of this.  I’m kinda confused and feelings are stupid but they’re there.”

Megatron sighed.  “How I feel doesn’t matter.  I can’t give you what you want.”

“What do you think I want?”

“I can only assume you want what we both wanted back then, if you’re bringing it up.”

Rodimus didn’t say anything for a long time.  When he did speak again, it was a question.

"Where do you think we'd be? If I stayed in Tarn?"

"Was that even an option for you?"

Rodimus shrugged. "If there were streets, I could live on them."

Megatron gave him a sympathetic look.

"I can't say your apartment wasn't... tempting. But I figured you wouldn’t want someone you just met trying to crash at your place every night." Rodimus chuckled awkwardly.  “Plus, I… I didn’t want you looking down on me or taking pity on me.”

“You thought I’d look down upon you?  I was a miner.”

“Yeah, but at least you had a job.  At least you were useful.”

“Your existence is not defined by your usefulness.”

“I know.  I do.  But that’s what I thought at the time.”  

An uncomfortable silence befell them.  Eventually it proved to be too awkward for Rodimus.

"And, y’know, the fragging was pretty good, too." The smirk he gave Megatron was cocksure, but his reddening face betrayed him.

"You remember how good it was all these millions of years later?" Megatron teased.

"You don’t?"

Megatron looked wistful for a moment.  “No.  I remember. I don’t think I could ever forget.”

"I felt something special that night," Rodimus confessed. "If I'm honest, I've spent a lot of nights wondering how things might have been if I’d stayed.  If I would have been a Decepticon, if the war would have even happened…”  After a glance Megatron’s way, finding him staring, he chuckled nervously.  “Uh, but, y’know, it’s nothing.  We didn’t know each other.”

“I wanted to know you,” Megatron said.

“Well… you can now, if you want.”  Rodimus took a half step towards him.

Megatron stifled every urge.  To kiss him or hug him or do any number of things that required closeness.  He couldn’t just take what he wanted, anymore. “Tell me what you want, Rodimus. If I’m on this ship I need you to be perfectly clear with me.”

Rodimus bit his lip.  Then, in a rush, he said, “I want you to kiss me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Just do it.”

Megatron still hesitated, but his blue optics were his weakness.  He couldn’t deny him.  Not with him looking at him so softly.  It was that same not-love look.  Of almost-love.  Of maybe-love.  It was a look so full of potential and all Megatron had to do to unlock that potential was to take that step and kiss him.

Everything would change.  That path opened up again, but it was harder to see far down it.  It was still there, but obscured.  A dangerous path.  He couldn’t plan ahead for what lay beyond.

Megatron took that step, but it felt more like a leap.

Rodimus hadn’t expected much from the kiss, but sparks flew.  His knees went weak when Megatron’s hand came up to cup his cheek.  He could have so easily lost himself in everything this kiss was and let his frame lead the way, but their second meeting came rushing back with all of their baggage.

He pulled away.

Rodimus looked down, but didn’t step out of Megatron’s reach.  “Sorry, I… just, after everything, it’s… it’s not as simple, now.”

“I know.”  Megatron reluctantly released him.  “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay.  Really.” Rodimus smiled at him and took a hold of both of his hands.  “For us, or me, I guess, it’s easy.  It’s ‘yes.’  It’s ‘I want to try this.’  But for everyone else, it’s…”

“None of their business.”

“I know, but, it kind of is.  ‘Cause you’re… you.”

“Mm…”

“But… if you want to try being together, I think it’s worth the scrutiny.”

“Are you okay with this?”  Megatron rested a hand over Rodimus’ racing spark.  

Rodimus kept that hand there.  “Who hasn’t tried to kill their partner, right?”  He bit his lip.  “It’s… we were at war.”

“It was still wrong.”

“Yeah…”

Rodimus shook his helm, as if he was shaking those thoughts from his processor. “Okay.  Since you’re trying to get a new start here or whatever, let’s just… start fresh.  You and me. Like I’d stayed in Tarn and we got to see where this was going.  Okay?”

“Alright.”  

“I know it can’t be exactly like that, but… I just don’t want us carrying all this scrap around with us.  We’re just two mechs in a relationship.  ‘Mkay?”

“If that’s what you want, Rodimus.”

“I just wanna be with you.  Because it really does just… feel right.  I dunno why.”

Megatron lifted one of Rodimus’s hands to his mouth and left a gentle kiss.  “Some sparks are just drawn to each other,” he whispered, “and we don’t know why.”

Rodimus smiled.  “Poetic bastard.”

After sharing an amused and quiet moment, Megatron asked, “Are you still as insatiable as Hot Rod was?”

Rodimus grinned and pressed himself to Megatron.  “Wanna find out?”

[dildo-swaggins-t-baggins]

Rodimus writes a list of all the reasons why he hates Thunderclash, then leaves it in his desk drawer. One of the others sneaks into his room, finds the list, and reads it over the ship's intercom system. Rodi is furious - not only has his privacy has been violated, but everyone is focusing on the fact that he "said" such nasty things about Clash instead of WHY he "said" them (since he mentioned all of his insecurities and the fact that Clash is so much better than he will ever be in the list).

Howdy, so first time doing this, and kinda excited but still nervous, let me know what you think! I also wanted a bit more angst being that I have no self control.

Lost Light, a ship full of mechs who had fought through 4 million years of war, highly qualified for anything the known and unknown universe would throw at them. But then again being on a ship for so long could only result in some sort of ‘horseplay’. For the most part the day was as normal as ever, simple routine, checking the mission log, and progress. And then it happened, it felt like he was going 100 mph and slammed into a concrete roadblock.    The ship’s internal speaker screamed to life, halting the crew, every mech stopped and listened. Rodimus’ peds slammed into the floor so hard that sparks shot up, Drift did the same and they turned to the tiny wall speaker.    “To the crew, a tiny memo from our beloved captain,” The speaker whined as the mech cleared his intake. “‘A list of what I hate about Thunderclash:”

   He couldn’t tell what happened first, if his optics popped out of his helm, or if he changed into his alt-mode and flew down the hall. Drift was right on his bumper the whole way.    “1:Thunderclash has this horrible paint job, what did he do? Blindfold himself and chuck a bunch of darts at a color wheel?Not only that but red? Red optics? Wow that’s sooo friendly, 10 out of 10, goes with the slag color scheme.” They passed Swerve and Ten who almost dropped their new shipment. “2: Why is he even a ‘hero’? So what, you were shot in the spark and lived, who hasn’t been shot in the spark? I don’t understand why everyone looks up to him? He’s just like everyone else and has a bad paint job.” They drifted around the corner, scaring Brainstorm, who attached his harness to the ceiling and lifted himself out of their way. “3:And then there’s this stubborn ‘fan club’, always following him around, stalking him, kinda feel bad for the guy, like hello? Give the poor mech some space to at least walk?” They slid into the lift Drift typed in the code, tapping his ped. “I’m thinking whoever is behind this, they’re going on the next mining shore leave with Megatron.” He hissed. “Why’d you write that?” Rodimus’ engine roared, praying to Primus that the lift would just move a little bit faster! “I couldn’t recharge that one night when I was paired up with Thunderclash on shore leave, and I had a quick com session with Rung, and he suggested I write down what I don’t like. Kinda helped me out. It’s not supposed to be read out loud.” The lift came to a stop and as soon as the doors were open enough for Rodimus’ alt-more to fit he floored it. “But that’s not the worst thing about Thunderclash, I think the absolute worst thing would be his oblivious nature. It’s bad when he hardly notices everyone falling onto their knees to kiss his aft. But it’s really bad when he can’t simply read the signs.” “Frag, frag, frag.” Rodimus hissed, spotting the captain’s office just ahead, a group of mechs jumped seeing his frame speeding right towards them with no indication of stopping. He started taking names of all of them, let Megatron sort them out. “I get it, honestly, he’s got this stupid puppy love crush on me, and it’s honestly embarrassing that he can’t simply take a very, VERY, clear ‘no’.” The mech snorted. “It’s kinda pathetic, thinking that I would be caught dead with that-” The door opened when he sent the code, changing into his root-mode and using his servo to catapult himself, then landing on his peds and front flipping into the office. “-the absolute wreck of a Prime.-” His ped smashed into Getaway’s golden battle mask, Getaway was thrown to the ground Rodimus’ peds firmly planted on his helm. With a flick of a digit he shut off the internal comm system, and turned his attention to the mech under him. Getaway was knocked out, then again having your helm slammed into the floor so hard that it creates a mini creator can do that to a mech. Rodimus spun around seeing a sea of not so happy optics glaring at him. “Frag.” He ducked as an empty cube was thrown at him, Drift sliced it in half and shut the door. Rodimus sunk behind his desk, wondering if the door was going to hold, and what to do with a knocked-out Getaway?

______________________________________________________________

He vented again, his whole system wheezed, peeling open his optics once more with a slight inhale. His systems reported that he was dangerously low on washer fluid and that was bad, and he didn't want to replace his ‘friendly’ optics anytime soon. With a huff he pulled himself out of his berth, rubbing his faceplates, he could still feel the moisture that clung to his cheek plating. Nothing like doing a double shift and getting ready to recharge and then you hear everything one of your captains hate about you being broadcasted over the whole ship.    It felt like another fusion cannon to the spark, but this time it was Rodimus pulling the trigger. With a vent he pulled himself to the washroom, giving himself a good splash of cleaning fluid to the face. Then he stared at himself, eyeing his white orange, gold, blue and light teal, and to top it all off, his flashy decal. Admittedly the whole speech hurt, and he could grin and bear it, but what hurt was the last comment. “‘It’s kinda pathetic, thinking that I would be caught dead with that absolute wreck of a Prime.’” He quoted his captain, feeling his spark plummet again and his optics sting from the lack of washer fluid. “I-I suppose it is ‘puppy love’.” He forced himself to smile. “I’m sure the crew-no my…’fan club’? Is giving him a hard time.” Thunderclash vented turning away from the mirror.    He jumped hearing a ping at his door, giving himself a quick shake, and trying to put on a tired-looking face, he opened the door.    Riptide and Velocity briskly stepped in, Riptide pulled him back into his hab while Velocity glared out the door and locked it behind them, his two blue friends spun around and stared at him. “Did you hear it?” They both asked at the same time.    “Honestly? Yeah.” He chuckled, it was dry and hurt his intake.    “Thunders, honey.” Velocity pulled him into a hug.    “Don’t you mind that.” Riptide patted his back.    “Yeah, don’t let that get your down, alright?” Velocity pressed a kiss to the side of his helm.    Riptide fell onto his back giving him a strange but loving hug. “Yeah, don’t let yourself get wrapped up in that.”    He smiled. “Thank you, both of you. I’m more worried about the captain.”    Velocity grit her denta. “What?”    “Why?” Riptide asked his rudder snapping back and forth.    “Well, it’s no secret that I’m more liked and my ‘fan club’ is going to be coming for his helm. Not only that but he’s the kind of mech that will beat himself up over this.”    “Oh, so what are you planning on doing?” Riptide asked.    “I was thinking if there was a way to tell the ‘club’ to leave it? And if he asks about it I’ll just say I was in recharge.” Thunderclash shrugged. “And I’ll just leave him alone, give him his space.” That did hurt, like stepping first into acid, he didn’t mean to crowd the captain, he just wanted to know Rodimus a bit better. Normally watching him from afar, and now he would just not watch the brilliant captain in action. “Oh well, I’ll be fine.” He grinned as it felt like another shot tore through his spark.

[amaltheeia]

Another writing warmup, because Proteus gives me the creeps and I’m projecting that onto Shockwave.

warnings for: stalking, threats of violence (implied), just proteus

His first mistake is taking the balcony exit.

For those with aerial alt-modes, it provides a quicker escape from the noise that is the interim conference centre. Meetings here are rare--usually only for the select few that occupy what he’s started calling the inner circle--but the Senate building is under modification. Something to do with Sentinel and the guard introducing tighter security measures. Cameras, audio equipment, the whole brigade. 

He’s not one to lay down on these things, but Proteus has him beat. Argue against them, and you’re apathetic to the safety of the general public. As he’s pushed out of the fold, he’s had to learn some hard truths about what the future is going to be like. A lot of giving, not so much taking.

But speak of the undertaker: there Proteus is. He can’t be missed, not with his gold trim that reflects every ray of light that crosses him. He’s glowing like some kind of deity. To many, he is: he’s become a symbol of malfeasance, the protector of the corrupt.

He hopes to sidestep him and be on his way. Unluckily for him, Proteus turns just as Shockwave exits, and waves away the mech he’d been talking to, mid-speech.

“Senator Shockwave,” he calls out. It’s loud enough for everyone in the general vicinity to hear. “Come join me.”

He knows what he’s doing. To ignore him would make Shockwave look rude. Proper social etiquette leashes him, dragging him over to Proteus.

He walks close enough to be heard, and then spits out the first excuse that comes to mind. “I have work at the Academy, I’m afraid.” He forces a smile onto his face. “Another time, maybe, so I can fully appreciate what you have to say.”

“Oh shush. Spare a click, come here.” His voice hardens, as if to push Shockwave into believing it’s an order. As if to make matters more humiliating, he points down at the ground to where he wants Shockwave to be.

Shockwave tests the weight on his pedes, then walks over. He eyes Proteus with suspicion, keeping a reasonable, but far, distance between them. 

Proteus takes note with a soft grunt that pushes hot air out of his vents. The exhaust fans over Shockwave, a brief pause in the cool night air.

“I’m sure you don’t scoff and moan as much when you’re asked to speak to Dai Atlas.”

“Because Dai Atlas and I are friends.”

“Ouch,” Proteus says, smiling. “No time like the present, however.”

Shockwave can’t tell if he’s joking. To play it safe, he doesn’t chuckle. Proteus doesn’t like being made into a humorous subject.

(He’d hate hearing about the jokes the outliers make. They get pretty creative.)

He hopes the pursuing silence will convince Proteus this is a waste of time, but for the second time that night, he doesn’t get lucky. Proteus is still circling his kill.

Proteus eyes him thoroughly. “What colours are you thinking of next?”

“What?”

“You scratch at the finish on your fins when you’re thinking of a colour change.”

It stabs at something deep inside of Shockwave, a fear he didn’t realize he could have until the words left Proteus’ mouth. The other Senator wastes no time elaborating on it either.

“What’ll be this time--oh, let me think,” he raises a hand to his temples, “what colour haven’t you done in a while? It’s getting hard to remember, with how often you change it.”

Shockwave pauses. It’s an odd question, one he’s not sure is asked with complete innocence.

No point in lying though. “Blue and red, if you must know.”

“Blue and red,” Proteus repeats. His mouth curls. “It’ll be hard to tell us apart.” As if it’s supposed to be a compliment to him.

“Not your shade. Something lighter,” says Shockwave, almost overlapping Proteus before he can finish.

A dark shadow passes over Proteus’ face, taking the humour along with it. The Proteus he knows from the closed Senate sessions comes out, and gone is the benevolent persona he wears for his constituents.

“I don’t see why you’re so,” he grits his denta, “hostile to me. You do all this work to counter us and always leave with nothing to show for it.” 

“You wouldn’t understand why I do it.”

“I don’t. You turn on the very system that gives you what you have now.”

Shockwave shrugs. “I’m afraid we were never meant to compromise. You see what you’re doing as justified, as I do my own ambitions. That won’t change. Respect our differences, and there shouldn’t be any trouble.”

“That’s what you choose to believe. We all have a choice.”

“Not when it’s concerning what’s right.”

Proteus’ face twists. “Cut the slag,” he snarls. “We don’t exist in a binary. It’s not good and evil, it’s just better or worse. Good mechs do horrible things all the time, but it’s for the greater good. You just never learned that.”

“Or maybe you just can’t see it, because it wouldn’t fit your vision.”

On cue, Proteus looks up at his sky spies, no doubt with a few lenses pointed at them. “You do right by the criminals and leakers that come to you for help, instead of what’s best for everyone. That’s why our visions are different. If you had your way, the whole of the Senate would collapse.”

Shockwave flexes his fingers, saying nothing.

“Speaking of criminals: that cop of yours, Orion Pax, was out by the Ark-1 Monument a cycle ago. He seemed happy to see you. How about that?” says Proteus, with only a hint of glee. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s back from the dead.”

Shockwave flinches, though he keeps his faceplates clear. “Were you spying on me?”

“It’s not spying if it’s in public, and you’re a very distinctive mech.”

Proteus has the added size to intimidate him with. Shockwave takes a step back from the balustrade.

“What I do outside of the Senate is none of your business.”

He can’t move much farther back without drawing the attention of others, which is exactly what Proteus wants. An audience only ever benefits him.

“Not when you’re a Senator.” Proteus’ voice has turned deep. “What’s the concern? If you’re not doing anything wrong...”

“It’s an invasion of my privacy! You have no right.”

“We’re living amid the Clampdown.” The words spatter like acid. “No one has the right to privacy. Since you’re always so up our afterburners about practicing what we preach, I thought you’d be pleased.”

“Pleased? Forgive me for not finding the thought of you hanging over my shoulder reassuring.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. I’m protecting you.”

Shockwave tenses up. The urge to shout profanities is off the scale, but he knows it will only give Proteus ammo.

Proteus takes over: “Call them what you will--I think Decepticons has become the universal term. Someone like you--high profile--is at risk.”

“Well, call it luck that I befriended a police chief then.”

Shockwave looks over his shoulder, trying to discern whether it’d be a good idea to depart from the conversation now.

Proteus advances on him, forcing himself into Shockwave’s line of sight. The look of satisfaction on his faceplates Shockwave’s tanks churn.

“Orion Pax cannot protect you. It would be wise to reassess where you have put your allies.”

“I don’t need the protection of anyone, thank you.”

“Really? In times like this, you need more than a police chief to be sure that those conspiring against you aren’t about to get the upper hand.”

“Meaning you?”

It tames the other mech’s expression. “Oh, come now. As I said, it’s not too late to give up this pursuit of yours.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Proteus takes him by the arm before he can step away. Shockwave pulls, but Proteus won’t release him.

“Don’t test my patience. I’m giving you a chance here.” He leans in close. “If you know what’s best for you, you’ll darken that shade of blue, Shockwave, and accept my offer.”

“I don’t need handouts, especially not from you,” he growls, taking his arm back.

He prides his ability to keep his voice stable, considering it’s Proteus he’s talking to. There’s something larger than them that’s being propositioned here. Accepting anything he says, even something minor, will spin into some big conflict, he’s sure.

He quits while he’s ahead, turning his back on Proteus in a way he’s sure will be bruising to the ego. Leave Proteus without the last word and he combusts on the spot. 

Which he does.

“You fancy him!” Proteus shouts, as if an accusation. The words singe his backstruts. It makes Shockwave turn, out of fear someone else will hear and speculate if Proteus continues.

Proteus’ grin is not kind. He shortens the distance between them once more. “You always did have a thing for dissenters. A shame; power should be kept in the Senate.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s an Autobot, yes?” Without waiting for an answer, he proceeds. “Self-proclaimed, and all. Mechs like him, they won’t last long. He’s going to keep speaking up, and it’ll be the death of him.”

The thought of Orion and death in the same sentence makes his spark ache. Anger quickly replaces it, surging up and out of his voice box before he can hold it back.

“You don’t touch him.” He shakes with fury.

“Always so emotional.” Proteus smirks. “How about I make you a deal: I don’t touch him, and in return--“

Shockwave points a finger at him. “There’s no ‘in return,’ you don’t touch him.”

Proteus grabs his hand and takes it in his own. His grip threatens to disfigure the joints. Trying to provoke him, no doubt. Or at least, that’s what he chooses to believe. The other option is a lot less pleasant. 

“You don’t call the shots here,” he hums. “So you should probably think about being nicer to me. For both his sake and yours.”

Shockwave doesn’t humour him with another word. He’s down the winding steps and headed Primus knows where before Proteus can say any more. Consequences be damned, he won’t subject himself to another minute of that nonsense.

His first thought is to go to his sanctuary, his School, but armed with the knowledge that Proteus has been following him, it isn’t a risk he’s wanting to take. Those ice-cold optics pierce him long after he’s gone, following him into the next cycle and then on.

He doesn’t know the extent of Proteus’ envy. His anger, he’s familiar with. It's made to look restrained, but can easily be minded if you know him personally. 

Envy? Oh, it makes bigger mechs devolve into an entire moral upheaval. And Proteus never had morals to begin with. He loathes to think about what he’ll do to Orion, and how he’ll justify it when the dust has settled. All in the name of a conquest.

Suffice it to say, he’s more worried about Orion than he is himself. That’s his second mistake.

[the-odd-job]

Harem AU Chapter 4 - Choose Your Fighters

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Characters: Megatron, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Starscream, Knock Out, Skywarp, Starscream (brief), Unnamed Characters Relationships: Megatron/Sideswipe, Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe/Sunstreaker, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker, Skywarp/Starscream (brief) Additional Tags: Sticky, Throatfuck/Deepthroat, Oral Sex, Referenced Gangrape, Humiliation, Forced Twincest, Repairs, Orgy (brief background), Size Difference, Coercion, Angst, Hurt/Comfort Words: 11829

Revised version of Chapter 4, as posted on AO3. 

Again the changes are TINEH, so if you read the first version then you won’t benefit much from this one.

It just continued.

They refused to fuel at first. Megatron merely shrugged that off and continued fragging them—he and his damn spike wouldn’t stop hurting them—until they were both running on fumes. They’d barely drank anything on the way to Kaon, and after their arrival it had been almost nonstop interfacing. It took its toll on them.

And Sunstreaker didn’t much fancy the thought of being so weak he couldn’t put up even a token of resistance against Megatron.

So they had finally agreed to fuel, downing the ridiculously high quality midgrade distrustfully. But they were exceptionally low on energon. Even if it was drugged, it was fuel.

It turned out it wasn’t drugged, as far as they could tell anyway. It only provided them with a much needed burst of energy and renewed their will to fight, even if they were fighting the inevitable.

They didn’t really want to get back into Megatron’s reach after they’d had the moment’s reprieve provided by fueling. So they didn’t. Sunstreaker escaped into the lounge through the surprisingly unlocked door; Sideswipe crawled under the massive berth. Good luck trying to get him back out from under there.

But of course Megatron had his ways to get what he wanted out of them. If he couldn’t force Sideswipe to come out, he could… Motivate him to do so “willingly”. 

Which meant first catching Sunstreaker. He took some pride in lasting a little longer against Megatron than the first time. The lounge provided more options for evasion, because Megatron didn’t climb over objects, he circled around everything.

So all he needed to do was keep something between them at all times.

It worked for a time, but Megatron was depressingly proficient at this particular game. Despite his best efforts, Sunstreaker got herded back into the berthroom, and this time the door definitely locked after Megatron.

The very sparsely furnished berthroom didn’t provide a lot in the way of cover. He was cornered in short order, then dragged back to the berth.

Megatron threw him onto it and Sunstreaker caught himself with his arms. Before he had the time to turn around to face his assailant, Megatron had joined him, pressing his helm against the berth and pulling his hips up before slamming home. Sunstreaker groaned into the bedding as Megatron set up a punishing pace, his hips near denting the plating of Sunstreaker’s aft.

“Your brother can come out,” Megatron growled at him, “or you will remain as the sole recipient of my attention.”

He could feel Sideswipe wavering, his desire to protect his brother… Whose desire? The desire of them both, aimed at the other. Clashing.

Sideswipe would stay safe under the berth. Sunstreaker could handle this.

Sideswipe wanted to spare him even some of the abuse, or at least share it with him instead of forcing him to take it all alone.

But he managed to convince his twin to stay under the berth for now.

Megatron just wasn’t done with him, far from it. Before he’d even reached his first overload, he caught Sunstreaker’s arms and yanked them back, putting a painful amount of strain onto his joints and forcing his back to arch well past comfort. All the while he kept slamming into him, hammering now into an area he hadn’t reached previously thanks to the change in posture.

It hurt. Primus, but it fragging hurt. Sunstreaker grit his denta and tried to bear the pain silently, but couldn’t quite contain his grunt at a particularly hard thrust.

Megatron transferred his hold of his arms into one servo, trailing the other one along his frame. Sunstreaker’s plating clamped tight and Megatron’s touch left a crawling path behind wherever it went.

Eventually it slipped up along his front until it reached his throat. Megatron wrapped his servo around it, tilting Sunstreaker’s helm back along with the rest of his spine.

And he kept tilting it, forcing his back into a more and more extreme arch, bending him into a shape he wasn’t ever supposed to be in. Sunstreaker didn’t scream even when his frame protested with bursts of agony along his back, components grinding together and stressing against each other, but a low sound of pain still rose in his throat.

Sideswipe couldn’t take it. He scrambled back from under the berth just when one of Sunstreaker’s spinal struts finally gave in to the pressure and fractured with an audible crack.

“I’m out, I’m out, just stop, please!” Sideswipe yelled over Sunstreaker’s howl, but…

Megatron did indeed stop, releasing his throat and arms and shoving him back onto his front. Sunstreaker’s frame barely thanked him for being freed from the unnatural posture. His back still ached with the pain of abused parts, his HUD uselessly listing the damage done.

But at least no further injuries were being inflicted.

Megatron continued to thrust into his valve even as he flicked just one digit at Sideswipe. “Come here.”

Sideswipe didn’t, right away, but when Megatron landed his servo on Sunstreaker’s back, right over the fractured strut, and started to press down…

Sunstreaker’s yowl was enough for Sideswipe to rush onto the berth, tears falling along his cheeks.

They were each other’s weakness, weren’t they? Not wanting to see the other suffer, and easily manipulated because of that. Megatron was making full use of it now.

“Lay down on your back. Spread your legs,” were the orders given to Sideswipe, and he followed them with clear hesitation. 

But he followed them all the same. Sunstreaker tried to rise onto his arms to have a better view of what was happening or about to happen, but Megatron shoved him back down and left his servo at his back, a heavy reminder to stay down.  

Stay down and take his spike.

He growled, but he wasn’t in the best position to try for disobedience without risking more severe injuries. And Sideswipe was shackled by the same concern. Sunstreaker was at least able to turn his helm to look at his brother. Sideswipe was staring at Megatron with wide optics, their spark fluttering with fearful anticipation. Trepidation.

It wasn’t pain that was imposed on his brother. Megatron stuck two of his digits into Sideswipe’s gaping valve that easily took them after being stretched so far by Megatron’s spike, but instead of anything painful… He started to stimulate Sideswipe.

Sideswipe went stock still for a moment, before the worst of the shock wore off and he tried to scramble away and close his legs simultaneously.

Megatron pressed harder on Sunstreaker’s back. Sunstreaker ground his denta together.

Sideswipe stopped in his escape, panting like there was no tomorrow. “Please, please stop, I don’t want this..!” No no no no echoed in their spark, but Megatron was just as pitiless in this as he was in everything else. Unable to move away in fear of hurting Sunstreaker, Sideswipe sat there and cried as Megatron proceeded to pleasure him with skill that wasn’t really that lacking. He knew where to touch and how to move his digits to wake up Sideswipe’s frame, and in short order Sideswipe’s ventilations were hitching and he was fighting back his moans. His valve was lubricating, finally, where Megatron’s spike just hadn’t managed it through the simple pain and discomfort it caused.

But here Sideswipe was now, his valve slowly leaking more than just transfluid.

It was like Sideswipe was in trance, unable to tear his optics away from the servo fragging him in all the right ways.

Then it got worse. “Show your spike.” At that Sideswipe’s helm shot up, his overbright optics staring at Megatron.

“Please, no.” Whatever Megatron’s reasons for wanting to see his spike were, they couldn’t be good, both twins agreed on that instantaneously.

When Sideswipe didn’t obey right away, Sunstreaker could feel that servo pressing against his back again.

Sideswipe cried harder, but shook his helm, over and over and over again.

The pressure increased.

Still Sideswipe refused. “Just frag me, use my mouth, whatever! Please don’t–”

Sunstreaker tried so hard to stay silent, but when the already fractured strut started to break apart entirely under the weight Megatron was applying onto it, he couldn’t contain his hoarse scream. Sideswipe cried out with him, but finally his spike cover snapped back, his spike pressurizing halfway from its sheath. His frame was getting more and more aroused, but Sideswipe tried to fight it back.

It wasn’t really working out for him.

Megatron removed his digits from Sideswipe’s slick valve and wrapped them around his spike instead, perfectly proportional to Sideswipe’s frame, but a dwarf next to Megatron’s.

And Megatron started pumping it. Gently, just the right way to ratchet Sideswipe’s pleasure higher. Sunstreaker could feel all of it, the sensation bleeding from one spark-half to the other.

His frame was responding too. His ventilations turned heavier as heat began to build in his groin. His valve started to lubricate, easing the passage of Megatron’s spike among the straining walls.

He hated it instantly.

Megatron teased Sideswipe’s spike into full pressurization, and then... 

He pulled out of Sunstreaker. His spike abandoned his valve, leaving it horridly empty and struggling to return to anywhere near its original size, but Sunstreaker still vented in relief.

He had no doubt it would be very short lived, but fraggit, he would take it. 

Megatron’s servo remained on his back, keeping him pinned in place, but he moved off to the side. Sunstreaker couldn’t help but puzzle over what he was doing.

His blood froze at what Megatron told Sideswipe next. “Mount him.”

“What?!” they asked at the same time, dawning horror crashing into them from where they’d already thought they were slowly getting used to the treatment—that they’d seen it all already.

Sideswipe’s voice was pitched higher than Sunstreaker had ever heard it before. Sunstreaker struggled against Megatron’s servo, trying to get up and away and escape the whole damn situation and oh Primus not that–

But Megatron pressed down on him until he was screaming in pain all over again. Sideswipe was yelling too. “Stop, stop, please! I’ll do it, I’ll do it! Sunny, Sunny please…”

Their spark was full of pleas from one side and the other until it all blurred together into one big mist of I don’t want to.  

Despite his words, Sideswipe didn’t move. Sunstreaker was panting from more than just his fading arousal, Megatron’s servo relentless over his breaking spine. His armor was rendered next to useless in the face of the tyrant’s strength. It was like there was nothing protecting the broken spinal strut, and honestly, as far as Megatron was concerned there probably wasn’t anything in his way.

He could have just easily just ripped their armor off if he pleased. Was this mercy, to still get to keep his plating?

Pain. It made his mind race like crazed turbofoxes, no sense to the desperate thoughts that chased each other in tight circles around that one physical sensation. He couldn’t think straight when Megatron kept hurting him, Sideswipe reluctant, so reluctant.

But his brother’s cooperation would end this.

So, which was worse? Having his back entirely crushed, or getting fucked by his brother?

Why were those the two choices they had?

Where had things gone so wrong?

But he wasn’t going to beg to Sideswipe. Fraggit, crush his spine for all he cared, Sunstreaker kept fighting his thoughts all the same every time they whispered Sideswipe could end this.

Convince him to end this.

No. Their resistance may have been for naught, but he was not going to give up on it. Megatron and his treatment, he was never going to subject himself to it willingly, he vowed that much to himself. If that meant injuries, so be it.

Megatron was not going to get what he wanted so easily.

As resolute as Sunstreaker was with that thought… His frame protested. It protested hard, flooding his HUD with warnings and alerts, informing him of this and that. Pain radiated all around his body from the central point at his back. Deliriously he wondered how much more it would take to fully compromise his protoform and start crushing his other internals.

And how quickly the damage would reach his spark chamber.

Optics tightly shut and genta ground together, Sunstreaker was too distracted with his quest to withstand to focus on the outside world. It sounded like there were words being exchanged around, someone moving…

Then the pressure was gone all of a sudden. He sucked in one sharp ventilation of spark deep relief a second before a spike was inserted into his valve. He jumped and tried to pull away on reflex, but one of his helm fins was grabbed, pulling his neck into an awkward bend to keep him from completing the motion.

As quick as he could, Sunstreaker took stock of the changes in their predicament. Megatron was holding his fin, and Sideswipe–

It was Sideswipe’s spike in him.

“Frag you!” Sunstreaker growled at Megatron, glaring at him with all the vile hate he could muster—and oh, there was a lot, despite the short time they’d known the mech for. Sideswipe didn’t move, but he became all too aware of his servos resting on his aft, and… His spike. His brother’s spike. Nothing compared to Megatron’s, it didn’t add to the painful ache of his valve, to the damage done before lubricant had added itself into the play.

And with how many times he’d already taken Megatron’s spike, his valve was slow to adjust to a smaller intrusion.

“That is precisely the plan,” Megatron responded with that stupid, all too common retort, hunger in his optics as he looked down at them. Then there was a clang of metal outside his immediate field of view and Sideswipe jolted, jostling his spike deeper into Sunstreaker’s valve. Sunstreaker bit his lip at the feeling.

It wasn’t that he didn’t find his brother attractive. He could acknowledge that Sideswipe was desirable. Easy on the optics, nice to look at, sexy, however you wanted to put it.

But as attractive as he found him, he wasn’t attracted to him. He’d never wanted to berth Sideswipe, not once in his life. They kissed, they made out, but that was where their interest ended.

And now he had his brother’s Primus damned spike up his valve, when neither of them wanted it.

Megatron slapped Sideswipe’s aft again, and Sideswipe jerked his hips forward to escape the impact.

Jerked them against Sunstreaker’s aft, rocking him in turn.

“Move,” Megatron said evenly, and Sunstreaker could feel him slip his digits back into Sideswipe’s valve. Sideswipe shivered in response, but didn’t move for the longest moment, before Megatron put his claws to use and struck the inside of Sideswipe’s valve.

Painfully. 

Sideswipe yelped and his hips danced right against Sunstreaker’s aft in his twin’s attempt to evade the claws. It moved his spike inside him, and again Sunstreaker tried to pull away, hissing and growling wordless threats–

But Megatron still had a hold of his fin and yanked his helm as a reminder of that fact. It kept his head down and pulled to the side, stretching his neck cabling in a way that was anything but comfortable—controlled the rest of his frame with the threat of how much more Megatron was capable of.

“Move,” the order repeated, this time more firmly, and Megatron began to pump his digits in and out of Sideswipe at a pace that was nothing but rough.

But after all the abuse they’d already been through, it was pleasure compared to the rest.

Sideswipe moaned, and whimpered, and Sunstreaker could feel his twin’s vocalizer and engine hitching from the force of his sobs, no matter how he tried to quiet himself… But he started to move, rocking between Sunstreaker’s valve and Megatron’s digits.

Pleasure was lighting up in him, and Sunstreaker’s frame responded in kind even through the pain in his back. The disgust in their spark doubled, all of the negative coursing in from both of them making their spark swell and shrink at the same time—the helplessness, so much helplessness; their fruitless attempts to try to avoid everything that had been done to them so far; the revulsion towards the things they’d been made to do and were being made to do; the I don’t want this that filled every second of every moment, and still the inevitability of it all.

Given no chance to truly escape, provided with no more options than what Megatron saw fit to grant them, their frames first turned into dolls and then used against them…

He would’ve rather stayed as just a doll over this. Having his frame abused against his will, that he could take.

But forced to participate? To enjoy it? To be turned on by it?

Hard limits were being crossed left and right.

And the same that applied to Sideswipe went for Sunstreaker: after all the pain Megatron’s spike had caused, Sideswipe’s was pleasurable in comparison. It wasn’t like he had no sensory nodes in his valve, and no matter how badly those had been mistreated by Megatron, they now responded to the draw and thrust of his brother’s length. He wasn’t being stretched to painful proportions and left feeling like his valve walls were just going to peel off.

Instead there was lubricant slicking the way and a spike that was none too large, and none too small. His calipers began to tighten after a delay, providing a perfectly snug fit for Sideswipe’s spike.

Like they were made for each other. And considering their frame specifications matched almost to the last detail, that was practically the truth.

Didn’t make him want it any more.

But his frame responded no matter how much his mind and spark fought against it all. Even the strain on his neck began to translate into something that just ratcheted his arousal and charge higher as Sideswipe continued rocking.

Sideswipe was moaning in earnest now, unable to keep quiet. Even Sunstreaker struggled, biting his glossa to prevent himself from voicing his pleasure—he didn’t want to give Megatron that satisfaction.

He could feel Sideswipe’s hate towards himself for not being able to do the same.

Sunstreaker didn’t know what to do about that.

Megatron eventually removed his digits from Sideswipe’s valve. Sideswipe stalled a second later, but Sunstreaker’s temporary relief at the lack of movement died a brutal death the moment Sideswipe groaned, a sound that spiraled into a flat out cry.

It wasn’t an altogether pained sound.

Sideswipe’s valve was practically sopping from Megatron’s administrations and the further stimulus of his spike in Sunstreaker’s valve. When Megatron pushed his massive girth in this time… There was the pain from a sore and abraded valve.

But there was barely any of the same friction left that there’d been before, the chafing all but gone.

Instead there was the mind numbing pleasure of having your every node stroked so thoroughly, of your loosened valve being stretched just right.

Megatron was ruining their frames, forging them anew to what he wanted from them. Their mouths, their valves—if it was too tight for him, this for sure was fixing that issue entirely.

Hate only burned brighter at that thought, joining his arousal in heating his frame. His face was twisted into a snarl even as he was held in place by Megatron’s warning grip, his frame shaking with anger. How many layers of rape was this even, at this point? He didn’t want to be spiked and pleasured by Sideswipe, Sideswipe didn’t want to spike and derive pleasure from him, Sideswipe didn’t want his valve used or pleasured… And all of that was happening at once.

And if Sideswipe had hated himself before, that dam broke now completely. Tears were streaming down his face like rivers composed of sheer pain, his optics locked to the ceiling in an effort to not look at who he was spiking right then. Sunstreaker gasped at the maelstrom of torment that their spark turned into as Sideswipe reached some limit within himself.

As that limit was broken through by Megatron’s decree.

There was apology. So much apology it made Sunstreaker dizzy, kept him from taking immediate notice when Megatron began to move, using Sideswipe’s valve as roughly as he ever had.

And Sideswipe… His frame turned on him entirely, sandwiched between a spike in his valve and his spike in a valve. Sunstreaker could feel the ecstasy rocketing through him even through the sting of his damaged valve.

Sunstreaker’s valve was just too perfect of a fit.

Megatron had just molded Sideswipe’s valve too well.

He couldn’t deny the effect Sideswipe’s sensations were having on him, either. They flooded their storming spark and made him experience just what Sideswipe was experiencing, drowning him in the same physical rapture.

But it was only physical. As much as it muddled their thoughts, making it hard to think beyond every second of pleasure, it did nothing to erase the feeling of how much they didn’t want this.

Sideswipe didn’t want Megatron’s spike, or Sunstreaker’s valve. Or Sunstreaker’s spike for that matter.

Sunstreaker didn’t want Megatron, or any of the things belonging to Sideswipe.

This wasn’t wrong. He knew most siblings were happy to frag it out with each other. Why not?

But they had never wanted to.

And here and now, that didn’t matter anymore.

Here and now they’d already been through hell of the likes they’d never imagined in their worst nightmares, and it just kept getting worse.

When were they going to hit rock bottom? How much more could they be degraded before there just wasn’t anything more to do to them?

How the pit were they supposed to survive that far, or make it through the impact of that rocky ground rushing up to meet them?

How was he supposed to stay sane in all this?

Sideswipe wasn’t moving himself anymore, but every hard thrust Megatron made into his valve rocked his frame, emulating thrusts into Sunstreaker’s valve and jolting his frame on the berth’s surface. He could barely even call it Sideswipe fragging him, it was more Megatron fragging the both of them—holding him still with the strain on his neck, and trapping Sideswipe between their frames.

And the pleasure kept building. Sunstreaker closed his optics against it, feeling the familiar enough crest of it all approaching. His fans worked overtime as Sideswipe’s spike continued to pump into his valve, the calipers already tightening out of his control and drawing more moans from his twin.

Sideswipe tried to hold back, but his frame’s march towards climax was relentless under the assault on his privates. His emotions peaked at the same time as his frame did—disgust hate sorrow hurt shame—the first pulse of his brother’s come in his valve sending Sunstreaker over the edge too, if the bloom of completion across their spark wouldn’t have done it already. His back arched despite himself, but even the pain of that wasn’t enough to quell his climax. Overload crashed through him, tightened his cables—Sideswipe’s claws dug into his hips, his valve rippled wantonly. Both their valves did, and Sideswipe’s feelings—shame shame shame—only multiplied when the erratic clenching of his valve pulled Megatron into completion with them, his transfluid deposited deep into Sideswipe’s valve.

To join all that there already was.

And it just would not end, the pleasure dancing between them and lengthening both of their overloads for what felt like an eternity.

An eternity of bliss and revulsion.

Sideswipe collapsed over him in the aftermath, strutless from the strength of their overload. He moaned weakly when Megatron pulled out of his valve to a veritable flood of transfluid and lubricant.

Shame and sorrow intermingled now that the deed was one. Sideswipe’s shame for having to do this, for having enjoyed it, and their shared sorrow of what they’d been driven into. Their choice, all stripped from them. Their will, what they wanted... Ground into the dirt like it meant nothing.

A part of Sunstreaker hoped it would finally be over as Sideswipe’s spike slowly depressurized back to its sheath, vacating his valve. In what world was this not enough?

A larger part of him made a well educated guess that Megatron was nowhere near done with them.

In their world this was not enough.

He wasn’t sure the shock of being dragged into Kaon had even worn off yet. It hadn’t really had the time to do that with everything that had been happening, with all the more reasons for shock they’d been given.

Reality was going to hit them in the face sooner or later, he was pretty sure of that. For now things still felt… Unreal.

Like this was just a nightmare, even though he knew it wasn’t.

His helm fin was released and Sideswipe was pulled off of him, by Megatron, until his brother fell against the tyrant’s chest, still too far from having full control of his frame to protest with anything more than the wounded sound he made. Without his weight, Sunstreaker slowly got his arms under himself and pushed himself to his hands and knees, turning to look at his brother and their tormentor.

His back raved at him for every movement he made, but he didn’t want to just lay there like a dead thing, waiting to be fucked over and over again.

He could feel a mix of fluids seeping out of his valve, and one look at Sideswipe showed his twin’s valve in a similar state. Sideswipe’s optics were still a little far off, but he was moving his frame in small, restless motions, his disquiet with being pulled against Megatron clear as the day for anyone who cared.

Megatron didn’t care, merely trailed a servo over his brother’s frame until he’d tipped his claws into the mess streaming from Sideswipe’s valve, and... 

Brought them back up to shove them into Sideswipe’s lax, unresisting mouth.

Sideswipe didn’t want that. His frame didn’t move, but internally Sunstreaker could feel him recoiling and trying to gain full control over his faculties again, just so he could stop it.

But when had that worked? Sideswipe did indeed gain enough of his movement back to bring a servo to Megatron’s arm, trying to push it away–

Megatron responded by shoving his digits deeper until Sideswipe gagged on them.

Sunstreaker growled, but his arms were shaking from both the overload and the simple pain his back was casting into all of his limbs. His frame might’ve been sturdy enough to make up for the broken strut and accompanying damage, still allowing him movement, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

So there was little he could while Megatron lazily pumped his digits in and out of Sideswipe’s mouth, his gaze passing between them as if he was considering what to do with them next. Sunstreaker didn’t like that look one bit.

Sideswipe gained more coherence, and with it, more fight. He brought his other arm up too, using both of his servos to try to push Megatron’s servo away, and he was putting actual force behind it.

Megatron, true to form, ignored it aside from shoving his digits deep and keeping them there even as Sideswipe gagged again, harder this time.

The harder Sideswipe pushed on that arm, the deeper the digits went, until they were flirting down the passage into his throat and it was a fight and a half for his brother to keep his frame from heaving entirely. That was when Sideswipe finally relented, his arms losing their tension and just… Holding onto Megatron’s even as his tank threatened to rebel from the treatment.

But as soon as he did, Megatron pulled his digits further out, only giving them a pair of shallow pumps before removing them out of Sideswipe’s mouth entirely. Lesson learned, Sideswipe didn’t try to hurry the process up by pushing on Megatron’s arm, fearful that it would’ve just gotten the whole thing to continue.

“To the edge of the berth,” Megatron said suddenly, speaking to the both of them from the looks of it.

Sunstreaker growled. Sideswipe shook his helm in a no.

No more of this.

At the very least, Megatron didn’t look surprised at their defiance. Had they gotten him to expect they’d struggle against him? That was good; it meant their fight hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Even if it had done them no good whatsoever.

Like he hadn’t any of the previous times, Megatron didn’t let the issue just pass. The tyrant pushed Sideswipe off his chest and slipped off the berth, but before Sideswipe could move out of his reach, Megatron had grabbed his ankles and pulled him to the edge, flipping him to his back.

And then Megatron was once again situated between his brother’s thighs. Sideswipe tried to pull away experimentally, but Megatron only grabbed his thigh and put an end to that before it really even began.

“You too, Sunstreaker.”

Both twins started at his name being used. Somehow he hadn’t thought Megatron even knew their designations. He certainly had never asked for them.

But it probably shouldn’t have surprised him that he would have his ways of learning. They had told them to Starscream, at least. Maybe he had passed them along.

Although small compared to everything else, it still felt like a violation, irrational as that might’ve been.

His name used or not, though, Sunstreaker didn’t move to obey. Instead he lifted his lips in a snarl and stayed right where he was—safely out of Megatron’s reach, not about to get grabbed. If Megatron wanted to get a hold of him, he’d need to leave Sideswipe, and then Sideswipe would have his chance to escape.

Except…

With a growl of his own, Megatron stabbed his claws into Sideswipe’s open valve. Sideswipe howled at the simple pain of it as his valve walls were tested nearly to their limit, nearly puncturing, and Sunstreaker suddenly found himself very motivated to get a move on. His back punished him for every movement, but that wasn’t anything compared to what he knew Megatron was capable of doing to Sideswipe.

So he scrambled his way across the berth’s surface to Sideswipe’s side, their spark flaring with an anxious ‘what now?’.

At first it was nothing unusual. Megatron removed his digits from Sideswipe’s quivering valve, only to replace them with his spike instead.

But Sideswipe’s valve was wet and had barely had a moment of reprieve between then and now. The intrusion… Could have been worse, as much as Sunstreaker hated the thought of them getting used to this abuse.

Sideswipe didn’t make a sound, staring sightless at the ceiling as Megatron started moving. Leisurely, like it was an afterthought to whatever he was really thinking about doing. 

Sunstreaker waited tensely, but he didn’t have to do that for long. Megatron just loved ordering them around. “Coax his spike back out.”

Sunstreaker balked at the command and Sideswipe covered his face with his servos to try to stifle the sob. Their spark screamed no more, but Sunstreaker felt stuck.

Do it and suffer, or don’t do it and suffer.

He stared at his brother, first at his hidden face, then… His optics trailed down his frame until they reached his recessed spike.

Sideswipe didn’t want this.

Sunstreaker didn’t want this.

Who the fuck cared?

Coax his spike back out.

It was bad enough when Megatron had done it and forced his frame to experience mind blowing pleasure. He’d used both his valve and spike at the same time before, but… Never like this

Never with a valve that held his spike so perfectly, or with his own valve stuffed as full as it had been.

He’d spiked Sunstreaker. That was just wrong. Not in the grand scheme of things, but between them. Sunstreaker had never wanted his spike, and he hadn’t wanted Sunstreaker’s valve, and he definitely hadn’t wanted Megatron up his valve at the same time as he was forced to exploit his twin. 

But what choice had he had? Would Megatron have really crushed Sunstreaker under his servo if he hadn’t obeyed? He had little doubts about that.

To protect his brother, he had to hurt him.

In a way. Not physically; Sunstreaker’s frame hadn’t hurt from more than what Megatron had inflicted on him.

But fragging him was assault all the same.

And now Megatron wanted them to continue in that vein.

Was nothing sacred to him? Not their wills, not their frames, not the relationship he had with his twin… It didn’t include fucking, it just didn’t!

Megatron was set on tearing it all down so they’d learn their place. What had he said earlier? How long ago had that even been? Time was starting to turn meaningless in the unending torment.

Learn to spread their legs.

Learn to use their mouths.

For his pleasure.

Megatron hadn’t been kidding, had he?

And it had been better when Megatron had focused on just that, on taking his pleasure from their frames without any heed for their comfort.

Now, instead, the way Megatron was moving in and out of his wet valve was lighting up his sensors in most pleasant ways, the still existing sting of valve mesh and calipers pushed past capacity only adding to it. He’d always liked it a little rough.

But he would have never interfaced with someone of Megatron’s size, if he’d had a say in the matter.

He couldn’t believe his frame was even adjusting this damn well to it. 

But he was managing to keep his spike down, at least for now. Except Megatron wanted Sunstreaker to do something about that.

Sideswipe didn’t want to look, his optics closed and his servos over them for good measure. He could still feel Sunstreaker’s distaste of the situation, his calculation of what his options were. Sideswipe didn’t want this, and… Sunstreaker didn’t want to force him through it even less than he wanted to do it.

And he really didn’t want to do it.

There was a hiss when Megatron just grabbed his brother by the helm, and Sideswipe shivered when he could feel the proximity between them growing until something was pressed against his spike housing.

No, not just something. Sunstreaker’s lips, forced there by Megatron’s immovable grip on his helm. Then, a growl, coming from Sunstreaker as Megatron began to do to him what he’d done to Sideswipe earlier—tightening his hold until only pain and pressure warnings remained. 

The intent was clear. Get to work.

Sunstreaker resisted for the longest moment, just his lips pressed against Sideswipe when he very well couldn’t move away no matter how he wanted to. Sideswipe could feel them first pull into a snarl, then into a grimace as the damage on his helmet multiplied.

He held on for longer than Sideswipe had. His protoform was crushing by the time Sunstreaker finally vented heavily, steadying himself before Sideswipe felt his lips wrap around the head of his spike, barely reachable from how unwilling it was to even peep out of its sheath.

Megatron’s grip didn’t go anywhere, but it lightened until it was just firm instead of crushing. He continued to move in and out of Sideswipe’s valve, making it harder and harder to keep his spike from responding as Sunstreaker flicked his glossa over the tip.

Disgust was pouring from the both of them, but what were they but cornered and helpless? Sunstreaker did what he had to to save their health, maybe their entire lives.

“Sideswipe, why don’t you appreciate your brother’s efforts. Open your optics. He’s putting on quite the show.”

Sideswipe cried into his servos as Sunstreaker’s administrations faltered at the words. A squeeze of his helmet was enough to prompt him back into action, but Sideswipe couldn’t bring himself to look like Megatron wanted him to.

The tyrant’s hold on Sunstreaker’s helm kept tightening, though. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Sunstreaker moaned in pain, the vibrations of the sound doing things to his spike, but Megatron’s threat was clear as day. Sideswipe still heaved several shuddering ventilations before he slowly peeled his servos from his face and opened his optics, staring at the ceiling.

Unable to look down his frame, knowing what he’d see.

Megatron was having none of that. “Optics here.” His grip on Sunstreaker’s helm didn’t relent, and Sideswipe could feel his twin’s growing delirium as his frame was broken bit by bit, the agony of his helm adding to the one already existing in his back.

Sideswipe couldn’t take it. He couldn’t put Sunstreaker through it.

So he looked.

Megatron was staring down at him, gaze intense, hungry. At them both really, like this was the best kind of visual entertainment.

Sideswipe’s optics were drawn lower though, and then he could see Sunstreaker, and he couldn’t look away, compelled to witness a disaster he couldn’t escape.

Sunstreaker’s helm was held against his crotch by Megatron, his brother on his hands and knees next to his supine frame. And Sunstreaker… He was doing it, no matter how reluctant he was even visibly, even more so in their spark. Dread of what he would still be made to do once Sideswipe’s spike pressurized...

Sideswipe tried so hard to keep his spike from doing that, but between the stimulation of his valve and his spike tip, it was a battle he was losing steadily. His spike began to push out little by little, but Megatron didn’t let Sunstreaker pull back even a little bit, instead forcing his brother to take the spike directly into his mouth.

Sunstreaker hated it. It didn’t stretch his mouth the way Megatron’s spike had, but Sunstreaker still hated it. Sideswipe could feel his torrent of emotion thundering in their spark, anger rising on top of it all.

But it had no outlet.

And Sideswipe couldn’t ignore the warmth and wetness that encased his emerging spike. Without much warning his spike surged the rest of the way into full pressurization, slipping into Sunstreaker’s throat as deep as it could go. Megatron kept Sunstreaker’s helm in place, his lips pressed solidly to Sideswipe’s crotch.

Sideswipe moaned when Sunstreaker swallowed on reflex, his intake rippling fantastically around his sensitive length. Megatron made a pleased sound too before letting go of Sunstreaker’s helm.

But the moment Sunstreaker tried to pull off his spike, the servo returned with a tut tut and pressed him back down on him. “Service him.”

Sunstreaker’s spark surged with despair at the order and the hated feeling of a spike lodged deep in his mouth. He swallowed again, without meaning to, and this time Sideswipe couldn’t help throwing his helm back as pleasure lighted on his spike, radiating into his valve that rippled around Megatron’s intrusion in return.

Megatron chuckled, his servo resting as a heavy weight on the back of Sunstreaker’s helmet. “Well?” the tyrant drawled, and Sunstreaker panted hard at the thought of what he was told to do.

He didn’t want to do this and Sideswipe didn’t want to receive this. Megatron’s patience ran out first, before Sunstreaker had won or lost his internal battle. The grip on his helm tightened enough to take a good hold of it, and then Megatron began to move Sunstreaker helm, up and down along Sideswipe’s spike.

It was heaven and hell at once. Their spark hurt from the strength of the emotion filling it, the rape it was suffocating them.

But it felt so good. Sunstreaker’s glossa danced against his spike despite himself, some desperate attempt to push it out of his mouth even as Megatron made that completely impossible. His throat contracted with every push inward, not quite a gag but a reaction to the intrusion anyway. His denta scraped against his spike just so, not enough to hurt but adding its own edge to the sensations.

And Megatron kept fragging his valve. Sideswipe stared at the ceiling, his vision turning staticky from pleasure as it built, taking him higher with a promise of another spectacular overload. “Optics, Sideswipe,” Megatron reminded him, and with some effort Sideswipe directed them back down.

Watching as Megatron moved Sunstreaker’s helm up and down his spike at an increasing pace. Sunstreaker was crying again. It didn’t matter that Sideswipe’s spike wasn’t anywhere near the size of Megatron’s, Sunstreaker still hated it, the feeling of having his throat opened over and over again, mouth held open by his girth. Drool was running past his lips, wetting his spike and groin—adding to the mess already there, lubricant and transfluid painting his entire crotch.

Seeing Sunstreaker abused like that was enough to stomp down on his arousal, but only for so long. He couldn’t deny his frame and the dual pleasure of having both of his penetrative equipment fragged. His ventilations turned faster, frame heating despite the efforts of his whirring fans.

And Megatron continued until Sideswipe couldn’t take it anymore, his back arching, hips bucking up into Sunstreaker’s mouth to the smallest of groans from his brother. It was all too late, overload hitting him hard, his spike unloading deep into Sunstreaker’s throat, his valve spasming around the impossible stretch that was Megatron’s spike.

“Swallow,” he could dimly hear Megatron order Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker only growled, lengthening his overload with the vibrations sent along his spike. A moan was drawn from him.

Sunstreaker didn’t swallow as told, Sideswipe’s transfluid draining from his mouth and down Sideswipe’s spike. Megatron growled too, yanking Sunstreaker away—and Sideswipe hated the part of him that missed the warmth of a mouth on his length—followed by a clash of metal on metal and a pained grunt from Sunstreaker.

And Sideswipe’s mind escaped to a nevermore place as he tried to just survive the rest of the days Megatron kept them in his quarters.

A winged frame in black and purple greeted them as they exited Megatron’s wing of the palace. He didn’t know how long it had been, only that it was too long. His legs were weak, his valve throbbed and leaked down his legs in a never ending stream of transfluid and lubricant. He was low on energon and charge, and he hurt all over from all the times they’d pushed Megatron too far and felt it on their frames.

Sunstreaker was in an even worse shape, his damaged back arguably the worst of the injuries either of them had suffered. Now his ventilations were quick and shallow, pain his constant companion.

“Hi! I’m Skywarp.” Sideswipe struggled to focus on the present reality at the voice, his optics slow to make sense of what he was looking at.

One of Megatron’s mates, based on the markings on Skywarp’s wings, identical to Starscream’s.

Identical to the ones decorating their backs.

Sideswipe stared at the Seeker blankly, and Skywarp stared back for an awkward moment before the flier rocked on his heels. “Soooo… How’d it go?” he asked, giving their frames a good once over and wincing a little bit at what he saw. “Megatron can get pretty rough on first timers.”

“It went fine,” Sideswipe said numbly. A complete and utter lie, but he didn’t really want to talk about how not fine he felt.

Skywarp just nodded, accepting the answer, although he had to know it was the opposite of truth. But Sideswipe was grateful when he didn’t push.

“Knock Out’s ready to do your repairs,” was all Skywarp said before turning to lead the way to the harem wing. Apparently they were just going to get escorted from place to place. Sideswipe wasn’t sure if it was to keep them from getting lost, or from escaping.

Or trying to escape, anyway. He didn’t know the palace’s layout at all, and there were guards and servants all over the place. Any escape attempt would’ve been pretty doomed to fail.

And right now… He really didn’t feel up for doing much of anything, nevermind something that would’ve required lucid thinking, planning, and general movement, like trying to escape would have. Exhaustion was bearing down on him, he hurt, and he just wanted to rest.

Repairs? They were in need of some, so returning to the medbay… He didn’t really want to after what they’d already gone through there too, but it was necessary if they wanted to stop the aches in their frames anytime soon. It was a good idea.

Besides, they’d most likely be put into stasis for the repairs. It wasn’t really… He wouldn’t be conscious enough to appreciate it, not like he would have been in recharge, but it was better than nothing. Maybe they’d get a chance to properly recharge at some point too.

So they followed without a fuss, too tired and beaten to really even put up a fuss anymore—defeated. They’d lost the battle.

But not the war. That would continue. Megatron wasn’t going to break them so easily.

Determination built a housing in their spark even as they quietly followed Skywarp into the harem wing and to the medbay. Skywarp filled the silence with some nonsensical prattle about a show he had been watching—or at least it sounded nonsensical to Sideswipe.

Just as likely was that his processors weren’t running fast enough to keep up with the one-sided conversation.

Knock Out had one look at them as they walked into the medbay before shaking his helm. “And here I was hoping you could at least keep your valve covers.” Exasperated? Amused? It sounded like so.

Sideswipe didn’t much appreciate the amusement, and neither did Sunstreaker. Both of them growled at the medic, who ignored the sound and just gestured at two of the medical berths. “Well, hop on and let’s get started. This might take a while.”

Again, it was the smart thing to do. They needed those repairs.

And Knock Out… Didn’t seem like a very nice mech. He was incredibly flippant about everything, about all the straight up suffering, but at least he kept things professional.

It could be worse.

Sideswipe dragged himself to the further berth and let Sunstreaker have the nearest one. They both climbed onto them and laid down like good little mechlings, ready for Knock Out.

Skywarp bid them goodbye before he took his leave. Sideswipe stared at his back until the medbay doors closed after him.

Skywarp was lighthearted, somehow. Sideswipe couldn’t understand how he was able to keep a hold of a spirit like that, but he envied the mech.

Then his attention turned to Knock Out. The medic came to the space between their respective berths, scanning the both of them. He shook his helm again, sighing. “He really does make an unfortunate habit of breaking you lot… Ah well, I’d be out of a job if he didn’t.”

There it was again, that… Lack of care. Like it didn’t matter that they got raped and beaten to their limit—like the medic only cared about how it inconvenienced him.

Somehow Knock Out fit right into the image he’d built of this environment, cruel in his apathy. Just letting everything happen and only fixing the physical signs of it.

Sideswipe couldn’t find it in himself to get angry at him right then, though. His spark was far too raw, still trying to come to terms with his preexisting emotional mess. It was too tired to add anything more to the writhing pile of blackened, battered emotions. He stared at the ceiling instead, letting the medic’s words roll over them as Knock Out listed some of the damage just his scanners were picking up. Sunstreaker’s broken strut and strained back components were obvious, as were the dents on them, their practically caved in helmets, missing valve covers, abraded throat tubing and valve lining, and probably a few broken calipers to go with it all.

He also mentioned something about Sunstreaker’s shoulder joints.

There would probably be a lot more upon physical examination. What had he said before Megatron had summoned them? That he’d need to do full repairs on them at some point, go so far that the wear of street life was erased from their frames?

Now was probably the time he would do that. Sideswipe wondered how long that would take.

How long they would be out for.

“I’ll fuel your frames while you’re under,” Knock Out said, and Sideswipe focused on his words a little better, glancing at the red medic just when he tapped one of his slim claws on the berth next to his helm. Sideswipe took the prompt and turned his helm to the side, giving him access to the medical port at the back of his neck. Knock Out plugged in, went straight for the commands for medical stasis, and then everything was black.

The first thing Sideswipe did when his systems started to come back to life was feel. 

Did he hurt still? Anywhere? Everywhere?

Only… His throat and valve. They still felt like they’d been abused relentlessly—you know, exactly like had happened.

So that hadn’t been fixed.

But the rest of his frame? There was that slightly detached sensation of parts that hadn’t yet fully integrated with his systems, but that was it. 

He hadn’t even realized how many minor aches he’d acquired over their vorns in Iacon’s gutters. Now all of those were gone, just gone, and his frame felt like it was fresh from an assembly line.

The bigger things were gone too—the dents Megatron had landed on them, all of that swept away like they had never existed in the first place. His helmet was in perfect shape again. The only notices on his HUD were about his throat and valve, otherwise his systems read full soundness. His valve cover was in place too.

And his frame was clean, at least on the outside and around anything Knock Out had worked on.

He turned his helm to the side just when the medic finished ending Sunstreaker’s stasis protocols and watched and felt as consciousness returned to Sunstreaker’s frame too.

The same thing applied to him. No hurts aside from his throat and valve; even his back felt almost like it had never been damaged in the first place. 

“How are you both feeling? Any undue sensations?” Knock Out asked once Sunstreaker too had finished bringing his systems online and opened his optics.

“Almost as good as new,” Sideswipe responded honestly for the both of them.

Almost.

“What about–?” he tried to continue, but the words didn’t quite come out.

“Oh, your intakes and valves?” Knock Out caught on quickly anyway, like he had answered that question several times before. “Those are only replaceable with Lord Megatron’s explicit permission. Aside from calipers.”

And when Sideswipe checked his alerts again, that turned out to be true enough. While there were notices of his throat tubing and valve mesh, there was nothing about his calipers needing any attention anymore. The thought that Megatron controlled how much those parts hurt or didn’t hurt was pretty depressing, but… What were they going to do about it, really?

All in all he had to admit that Knock Out had done exceptional work with their frames and been thorough as hell.

It had also taken him some time. A little over a full orn in fact, which Sideswipe assumed contained Knock Out’s recharge and other breaks on top of the time spent working on them.

But it was an orn they hadn’t been abused during, even if they hadn’t had the sense to appreciate that.

“Are we free to go?” Sunstreaker asked, something Sideswipe was eager to know as well. He looked at the medic expectantly.

Knock Out smirked. “From my medbay, yes.” He said that as if he was harmlessly teasing them instead of reminding them they’d lost all of their freedom and rights in one fell swoop.

That they weren’t allowed to go where they wanted to anymore. Stuck, although Sideswipe didn’t know the exact limits of their cage. Only the harem wing unless they were told to leave it on Megatron’s bidding, or was there somewhere else they were allowed to go to as well?

He didn’t feel like asking. Instead he swung his legs over the berth’s edge in time with Sunstreaker and they both made their way to the door, Sideswipe still in wonder over how effortless movement felt now compared to the before. 

Had he ever been in this good repair? When he was first activated, maybe.

They were already almost through the doors when Sideswipe turned partially around and, “Um… Thanks for the repairs.” Manners, right?

“It’s so nice to be appreciated. You’re welcome,” Knock Out said with that smirk, and Sideswipe didn’t know him anywhere near well enough to decide how serious or sarcastic the mech was being.

He hastily beat it out of there after that, sighing with some relief as the medbay doors closed behind and left them alone in the hallway, aside from the guards at the door. But they were so still and quiet it was easy to forget about them.

Sunstreaker wrapped him into his arms right away and Sideswipe clung to him, seeking the comfort offered and trying to offer some in return.

The repairs… The state of his frame, it made it even harder to believe that all that happened was real.

If it wasn't for the ache in his valve and his throat, he probably wouldn’t have believed any of this to be more than a bad dream. The lavish surroundings—nothing but a figment of his imagination.

But he could still feel the ghost sensations of Megatron between his legs, and those of his lips pressing against the tyrant’s groin plating as he was forced to swallow his length to the hilt. That was what clued his resisting mind to the fact it was all true.

He was tired. Both of them were. Based on their fuel levels Knock Out had topped them both off before bringing them online like he said he would, but their batteries were running low on charge with a few notices prompting them to enter recharge soon.

And… Defragging would probably be a good idea too.

But he didn’t want to leave his twin’s embrace anytime soon.

They stood there, quiet and still for what felt like an eternity, no one but the guards around to see them. Then Sunstreaker carefully pet along his armor and pulled away a little bit. Not going anywhere, just… Making it possible for him to see Sideswipe’s face. “Should we go get some recharge and defrag? Everything will… Probably go better if we’re at our prime.”

Everything. They didn’t know what else there would be still. Megatron was done with them for now, but how long would that last? Would he give attention to his other mates for a change, or was he still zeroed in on them?

Would he break their frames all over again soon? Sideswipe felt that it would be inevitable at some point, because… Because this was their new lot in life. Wet holes for their master to use when and how he pleased, that just happened to be sentient too. 

But he hoped they would get some time before Megatron demanded them again. Just enough to even try to come to terms with everything. That was all he asked.

Were he to voice his request to Megatron, though… He’d probably get a laugh in his face before he was bent over the nearest surface and reminded of his place.

He didn’t want to accept it all. Beside the feeling of sheer unrealness, there was also will. Something that insisted they deserved better than this, that wanted to demand that better. Would they just allow Megatron to treat them however he wished?

Or would they continue to fight?

Would it continue to be futile?

And even if it did… Would they fight anyway?

Sideswipe nodded to Sunstreaker’s suggestion, releasing his hold and pulling away the rest of the way until only their intertwined servos remained as a point of contact. Then they walked along the long hallway, passing the library, the dining hall, the washracks, and the entertainment room—except Sideswipe’s step faltered as they came to its open doorway.

There were mecha just… Interfacing on one of the sumptuous couches. Five of them. Spikes and valves were bared, mouths were in use, and they looked like they genuinely enjoyed it. Noises of pleasure floated in the air.

Again there was that feeling of not understanding. It was as if some pieces were missing from the puzzle he was trying to build to compose an image of this place—their new life. Something about the… Perspective. Where the fragging was nothing but torment for them, for others it was… Something else. Something enjoyable.

Had they not experienced the same they were experiencing right now? Sideswipe couldn’t fathom wanting to interface anytime soon, if ever, not after the pit they had just been put through—and it still felt like it was just a little while ago, another downside of stasis. No memories between then and now to fill the gap in time.

The whole experience of interfacing… Was there anything left to do that hadn’t been soiled already? Megatron had been beyond thorough in fragging them every way he could think of, and he’d had a lot of ideas as far as making it worse and worse for them had went. Sideswipe couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t just remind him of when Megatron had done that to them, ruining any pleasant experience he might’ve otherwise had.

And the pleasure. That was the worst part, being made to enjoy the abuse. In body at least, never in spark and mind.

It was ruined, all ruined for him. Them.

But here were others, apparently completely oblivious to things like that. But they were all Megatron’s mates, right? They’d all interfaced with him, right?

Were they the odd ones out?

But then… What Skywarp had said. ‘Megatron can get pretty rough with first timers.’

Was it a suggestion that they weren’t special in the torture they were put through? That others had had the same happen to them too? Maybe even to some of the mecha now happily fragging their processors out?

He couldn’t understand it. He could feel his thoughts stalling and rotating around that one topic, trying so hard to make sense of it, but failing miserably, until his helm ached with the effort of his attempt.

Sunstreaker tugged on his arm, snapping Sideswipe out of his uselessly circling thoughts. He looked back at his brother, and saw… Concern. “I’m fine,” Sideswipe said on reflex, voice small and tight.

Sunstreaker’s lips pulled into a thin line. It wasn’t like they could actually lie to each other.

But Sunstreaker didn’t say anything, just pulled him along until they reached the big doors of the berthroom.

Sideswipe was looking forward to peace and quiet, pretending he was out of Megatron’s reach, but all of his hopes of that were crushed when the doors opened at their proximity.

Because behind the door, in the vast room with its many cots, there was veritable orgy going on.

Before he could look away, he’d already recognized Skywarp, thighs spread wide and moaning wantonly as Starscream pounded into his valve. Starscream had a dildo up his valve, big enough that just seeing it made Sideswipe close his legs tighter.

And around the pair there were several other mates sitting, laying, or standing, watching the show while they stroked their spikes or fingered themselves or each other.

Sideswipe’s thoughts whited out completely, erased with one pass by sheer shock, disbelief and disgust. He’d thought and hoped that he’d only have to worry about interface around Megatron, that he could escape it elsewhere—enjoy downtime in the harem wing if that was what it took to keep him sane.

Instead there was just… This. All of this, mecha fucking each other all over the place, and he couldn’t understand it. It made no sense!

His helm started to ache all over again, harder this time. Sunstreaker had been staring at the display with no lesser amount of disturbance, but he recovered first and dragged him away from the doorway and back down the hall the way they’d come in from. Sideswipe stumbled after him, his thoughts too jumbled to do much else.

A single clear thought did come to him after a few more steps, though. “Where are we going?” he asked, optics wide and decidedly not glancing to the side as they passed the entertainment room again. 

“To the library,” came Sunstreaker’s response, and… Yeah, that made sense.

Libraries were quiet and peaceful. What were the chances any of the harem members had decided to frag each other there?

That was the theory anyway. Sideswipe didn’t trust any of his theories anymore though, not after the depravity he’d been forced to witness and participate in from the moment they’d been dragged into Kaon.

This place was sick, absolutely sick.

And they were stuck in the midst of it all.

He wanted to cry.

Sunstreaker led the way to the library, and lo and behold, it was almost empty. There were exactly two other mecha present, one so enthralled by the book file they were reading that they didn’t glance up when the twins entered. The other, browsing at a console, did glance their way before dismissing them just as quickly.

No interfacing to be found. There were no moans, no metal hitting metal.

Just… Peace and quiet.

They found a couch in the far reaches of the surprisingly large room, tucked away between the massive shelves, and collapsed onto it. Sideswipe curled up against Sunstreaker right away, and… He was shaking. Sideswipe was shaking. He hadn’t even noticed.

But the emotional knot now being assaulted with even more emotions was a pretty good reason to have the shakes, he figured. 

It was hard to make sense of it all. There had been no time to process anything before more and more had been piled on the already painfully high pile.

First… Being taken from Iacon. Their life hadn’t been much, scraping by in the streets without anything but the contents of their subspaces to call their own. Every day you had to wonder will I get to fuel today, and many days the answer was a negative.

Had they been happy? Not really.

Had they been unhappy? Also not really.

It was just… Life. They’d always taken it at face value and enjoyed the little moments of bright in what was otherwise a gloom.

Life on the streets was dangerous, they’d always known. Felt it too, a few times. They—the leaders, the general public—liked to paint Iacon as the most desirable city on Cybertron, but from the gutters… It was hard to see that.

Hard to climb out of that predicament. Hard to get back on your feet. They’d been as stuck on the streets just as they were now stuck here; the only difference was that they’d had the entire city to roam as they pleased, fuel levels allowing, whereas now they only had… This.

Their friends might’ve noticed they’d gone missing, but being guttermechs themselves, there was really nothing they could do about it. Guttermecha went missing all the time. The enforcers didn’t bother with lowlifes like them.

They’d just quietly disappear. That had made them easy targets.

He’d hoped that someone would notice they were taken against their will during the long trip to the other side of Cybertron, but they’d had no such luck. Kaon’s corruption ran too deep, an insidious disease he’d never before even really realized existed, spreading its tendrils all across Cybertron. It wasn’t contained just to the citadel that was Kaon itself.

And then they’d arrived, and… Was this really all they’d been brought here for? There hadn’t exactly been much fanfare before they were dragged in front of a few dozen mecha, and it was downhill from there. Just… Raped over and over again. Everyone could have a turn! Enjoy their frames! Ignore their struggles, all the times they’d said no.

It was hard to think there was any other reason for their abduction, when that was all that had happened. When that was all they’d been told. First with the crowd, and then along had come Megatron, and… He wasn’t sure which was worse. The gangrape, or the undivided attention of one of the cruelest mecha they’d ever had the displeasure knowing—contested in that position only by his underlings.

He couldn’t even… Begin to understand what motivated these mecha, why they saw it as acceptable to do what they had. How they could laugh about it while tormenting them, laughing at their pain and resistance. Sadists, the lot of them, taking their pleasure out of their suffering.

The pain in his frame hadn’t at any point compared to the hurt in his spark, least of all now that the only reminders were the aches in the holes they’d used for their pleasure. The extent of the humiliation… Pride shattered into a million pieces and the pieces stomped all over for good measure. They’d been allowed no dignity, degraded with words and actions until they felt like the gutter trash they were. In pain, dripping fluids, banged up… Covered in the signs of their abuse.

What would anyone sensible have even thought of them if they’d seen them right then? Pitied them? Probably. 

He didn’t want anyone’s pity, even if it would’ve been for a good reason.

A little bit of mercy would be nice, though. 

And now what? Megatron had given them a good taste of what they could expect from their future, a-and… Sideswipe wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take, or what would happen when he couldn’t take any more.  

He curled tighter against Sunstreaker, his brother’s arm hugging around him, pulling him against his side, practically into his lap. At least he wasn’t alone, but he wasn’t sure how long that would help either of them. They were just used as tools to harm their brother—not physically, but the emotional devastation was… Thorough.

And somehow he would need to come to terms with that too, that he and Sunstreaker were likely to be made frag each other in the future too.

Could he learn to… Accept it? He loved his twin, and he’d heard of so many other pairs who enjoyed fragging each other and did it out of free will. Maybe he could too? But it was hard to overcome all the vorns he’d spent not wanting his brother that way, or the fact there was no sexual attraction between them. Absolutely none.

They’d have to create that out of thin air somehow. If they learned that… At least that aspect of their abuse could become tolerable. Maybe even enjoyable. Something to look forward to amidst all the rest.

But how were they ever going to manage that? Neither of them wanted it. That was a hard obstacle to get over. Or around.

And being forced into it anyway didn’t exactly work to make them want it any more. Maybe, maybe if they’d been allowed to approach it at their own pace, they could have achieved that.

But not when they were told to go to town on their twin without any preparation.

Mount him.

Move.

Coax his spike out.

Service him.

Sideswipe’s tears fell. And a small, traitorous voice whispered at him, that they could still do that. In between whatever Megatron wanted from them, they could practice. Take it slow. Build to bigger things little by little.

Frag their brother during their free time.

Get used to it.

Maybe make it hurt less when they were ordered into it again.

“If you want to,” Sunstreaker said quietly. Sideswipe could feel his reluctance right next to his own reluctance, but…

If it would make things even a little bit better.

“I don’t want to,” Sideswipe whispered back. “But maybe it’d be for the best anyway.”

Sunstreaker made a noncommittal sound, not agreeing, not disagreeing. Just… Not wanting.

Just like Sideswipe didn’t want.

But maybe they could use each other and their love to try to erase even some of the abuse. Repeat those things, but willingly. Make them good again. Something to like and enjoy.

Until the next time they were forced into it all against their will.

Was that their plan? Because it sucked.  

Much better would be to just… Get out of here. He just didn’t know how. Even if they could make it out of the harem wing, they’d need to get out of the palace after that, and then out of Kaon itself.

And not a lot of things left Kaon. It wasn’t permitted; the borders were closely guarded. As little as they knew about anything with only ever having gotten the most basic education, they knew that much.

No one went into Kaon, no one left Kaon.

And how long could they hide from the very ruler of Kaon in his own city?

It was hard to see a way out. Really hard. Hard to see a scenario that wouldn’t see them getting dragged back into the harem kicking and screaming, no matter how far they might otherwise get in their escape.

And he did not want to find out what Megatron would do to escapees, when even his regular treatment was… Beyond abominable. 

He closed his optics, though that did nothing to stop the tears running down his cheeks. The rumble of Sunstreaker’s engine was familiar and comforting, just… A tiny dot of solace and familiarity in what was otherwise a black sea of despair and pain.

They were so, so stuck. And so helpless. That was the worst part. Not being able to do anything about any of it. They could resist, did resist, and they still got beaten and fucked. So outclassed and outmatched.

Fuck. What were they going to do?

“We should rest,” Sunstreaker murmured, pressing his lips against the top of his helm—same lips that had wrapped around his spike and fragged him to completion.

No. He didn’t want to think about that.

The thought stayed stubbornly anyway. 

“Yeah,” he agreed regardless, because it was true. They weren’t going to make sense of anything without decent charge in their batteries, and appropriately defragged and organized processors—and memory files.

Let their minds catalog everything that had happened, put it into some order… Then look at it again.

Sunstreaker reclined on the couch until he was laying across its length, and Sideswipe settled on top of him until they were chest to chest and he could rest his helm against his brother’s shoulder. Sunstreaker kept an arm around him, a welcomed weight along his back.

Tomorrow would be a new day. Hopefully a less painful one.

And they’d find a way out of this yet. One way or another.

They had to.

-----------------------------------

( Previous / Next )

[zenniet]

Kinktober day 9

Kink: Bodyswapping

Ship: Minimus/Megatron

They both saw it as a way to walk in the other's shoes for a little while. Minimus was more averse to it than Megatron, but with a little convincing, he also agreed to give it a try.

The technology wasn't in its experimental stages anymore, Perceptor had long since perfected it, but that wasn't the issue for Minimus. He worried that, once Megatron saw himself from someone else's optics, he might finally come to the realization that he deserved someone better, someone more than Minimus. Nevertheless, for the sake of settling his own morbid curiosity, he agreed.

Waking up from the switch Megatron's body was something else. Something strange. Minimus was used to being to large in the form of Magnus, but he had never felt it while he was truly connected to the frame. The Magnus Armor always had a layer of almost dampening to it, but not this frame.

Minimus looked down at his servos, then across to the berth that Perceptor had put him on for the transfer. He saw his own frame on that one, and it almost made him disgusted. He looked so small, so fragile, even though he knew that that frame was capable of beating multitudes. Perceptor was quick to get them out of the berths and put off his leg, telling them to come back whenever they were ready to swap back.

Minimus looked down, seeing his own red optics peering up at him as they entered their habsuite.

"This," Megatron gives, well, his own servo a squeeze, "I quite enjoy."

"You enjoy being small?" Minimus asks, reclining on the berth. Megatron climbs up and lays across Minimus' front.

"I can do things like this, now." He replies, index digit swirling along the black decals in Minimus' chest.

"And you like that?" Minimus asked, bewilderment apparent on his features. Megatron rarely saw himself with such a confused face.

"Do you not like to lay on my chest and hold my servo?"

"I do, but-"

"Then how is it do hard to imagine that I would enjoy doing the same in your place? To feel you?" Megatron asked, a sly, knowing look on his face, well aware that he's got Minimus pinned. "How does it make you feel to do these things?"

"I... I like being close to you." Minimus said in a voice quiet and unbeffiting of Megatron's frame.

"And I, you." Megatron stretched and sprawled out further, "I would like to say I almost feel closer to you like this." He rolled onto his back and let his servo rest on his belly. "I wonder..."

"What is that?" Minimus asked. Megatron provided no answer besides popping his- Minimus'?- array panels.

"What are you-?!"

"Calm yourself, is it not normal for me to wish to see your array?" Megatron chuckled, reaching down to his already stiff spike only to recoil upon grasping it. The sensation was sharp, and it felt far stronger than when he was in his own body. That alone gave explanation to how Minimus managed several overloads before Megatron reached one.

"That is incredibly lewd and I demand that you- where are you going?"

Megatron hopped off the berth and sauntered over to the washracks. He pulled over the stool Minimus used to stand up to the counter and admired himself in the mirror.

"You really are stunning, Minimus," He sighed, soon returning to the berth. "I want you to Frag me." Megatron demanded, climbing back up to be with Minimus.

"You don't find that the least bit odd?"

"Minimus, we've both been around long enough to have seen stranger."

Minimus didn't know how Megatron managed to make his lithe, green frame look so charming and charismatic with just the little tilt in his lips and the way he held himself.

"If you don't won't to, then we don't have to, but I thought I should at least ask."

"... Very well," Minimus said, his cheeks flushing deeply at how perverse this all felt. He sent the command to disengage his spike paneling, "Please... Take your time." He couldn't deny that he was just a little bit concerned, not that Megatron would damage his frame, more so that his conjunx would hurt himself.

"I've fragged you before, I'm certain that I will be fine." Megatron said, moving to hold himself over the thick, blunt head of the spike. "But your concern is appreciated."

Megatron lowered himself, surprised when the spike didn't just slip right into him. He'd never felt like he'd actually have to almost force a spike to fit in him, and he was excited to see what that sensation would be. Though, just having the spike nudge and press against his entrance did feel good. He took a deep vent, allowing his cooling fans to click on before he started trying in earnest. One servo against the spike to guide it, he pressed down until the head popped in.

His optics immediately went wide, and he saw Minimus reaching out as if to stop him. He held up a servo and shook his helm,

"That certainly feels different," He said though an light chuckle. He grit his dentae and pushed a little further. He could feel every inch as it entered him and stretched each ring of calipers. Unsurprisingly, he could see the slightest bulge becoming more pronounced in his front. Minimus bit his lip, the cooling fans of the frame he was in were deafening to him, though the stimulation from his array was far duller than what he was used to. Still, that didn't subtract from the novelty and intense feeling of a valve squeezing around his spike.

Megatron looked like he was in bliss. Every time he took another substantial fraction of the spike, his frame would be wracked with trembles and shocks of pleasure. When his plating finally met Minimus', it only took a few slow grinds for him to reach overload, his valve clenching somehow tighter. His moans were distorted by static, his vents were hot enough to puff steam, his digits worked and rubbed his anterior node and his hips ground slowly on Minimus'.

"Frag, your frame's s-so sensitive," Megatron said with an almost dopey smile and half lidded optics, "Haven't had a valve overload like that before." Before he could even finish his sentence, he was already beginning to bounce on Minimus' spike again, his moans only getting louder.

"I need you to overload in me like this," He panted, lifting himself hallways off of the spike before coming back down each time. His voice was shaky and wrought with need. "I need to feel what it feels like, please?"

Minimus has an idea. Just ad Megatron wanted to try something new, as did he. He switched their positions, holding Megatron under him, his servos wrapping around his waist. Minimus started slow, with a slow grind, but quickly picked up the pace until he was near hammering into Megatron, moving him and using him like a toy.

"Yes, frag, frag- Minimus! Minimus, I'm close, I'm gonna overload again, please yes-!" Megatron's legs clamped shut on Minimus' waist as his second overload took him, his whole frame quaking and his chest heaving with his shaky moans. He almost screamed when he felt the heat and pressure of transfluid being dumped into him, filling him up and spilling out in excess. Thick globs fell to the berth, pooling where Minimus' knees pressed indents into the plush material. Mimimus' engine roared, uncharacteristically powerful and loud, his hips twitching against Megatron's with each pulse of transfluid.

When Megatron came down and allowed his optics to open, he was astonished at how much his abdomen had swelled. His servos rested on it for a moment before he found himself shivering. His frame cooled quickly, too quickly. He reached up to Minimus, who was more than happy to slowly, carefully pull out and lay next to Megatron for a moment.

"Why do you like being in my frame?" Minimus asked. "It has no merit."

"I get to feel how you feel." Megatron looked down at his servos, "See how it feels for you to rest on my chest, or to hold my servo. I wanted to make sure that it really was a good feeling for you, and that you weren't just trying to appease me."

Minimus wasn't cuddly by any means, but was that really when Megatron had thought? That he was pretending to be affectionate just to make him happy? Minimus couldn't think of anything to say. He just pulled Megatron closer. He wracked his processor for some semblance of something that would fit his thoughts,

"I enjoy every second I spend with you, even if it's in debate or confrontation," Minimus knew that he wasn't a poet. "Please, never think otherwise."

"I only wish that you would believe the same of yourself, Minimus. You have the most stunning mind, frame, and spark I've ever known. Please tell me that you will at least try to recognize that?"

With a silent nod, Minimus agreed.

[anon-e-miss]

Intransigence 5

Prowl listened as the roar of enforcer sirens and the wail of approaching ambulances came closer. He turned his helm. The great red mech Jazz had called Ironhide was not the only other Autobot who had arrived on the scene ahead of the first responders. As Prowl watched, mechanisms wearing the Autobot insignia set up a fence, blocking the scene from the quickly gathering crowd; he looked up at sky. The bright lights of the downtown largely obscured any trace of the stars. Every enforcer’s sirens was ever so slightly different. To an expert audial they were as identifiable as a mechanism’s voice. Garboil’s high pitch shriek was not amongst the enforcer sirens arriving upon the scene. Red and blue flashing lights bounced off the windows of the buildings lining the block. The fence did not move for them.

“This is a crime scene,” Prowl said, lamely.

He knew how the scene would look at first glance, just as he knew how it would look upon closer inspection. Prowl had shot Barricade in the back, and that was not a good look. But metaforensics would show the trajectory of his shot was downward. It would show that he had dived for his blaster and it would show that he had taken his shot from his knees. Nightstalker’s wound would show the shot had come from Barricade’s blaster. Internal affairs would clear him, provided they were even allowed to investigate. It did not appear the Autobots had any interest in allow the enforcer onto the scene.

“Or it’s a Decepticon attack,” Jazz replied. His servo never left Prowl’s chassis. Instead of being intrusive, it was grounding. Someone was tending to Barricade. Prowl was almost annoyed the mech lived, it was bloodthirsty of him. With the crisis over, his tactical systems retreated some and he felt the deep burn from the shock stick, the sharp pain in his leg and the great throb from his back. He hurt, Prowl mentally shrugged, better not to focus too much on any one injury. “One that might still be in progress. We still gotta figure out if Nightstalker was a Con, ‘n not just a dirty enforcer, same wit his buddies. We gotta figure out just what they wanted wit ya.”

“I do not know,” Prowl said.

It was the truth. He could not think of any particularly memorable encounter with Barricade in their brief time in the same precinct. To be completely fair, Prowl could not think of any encounters with Garboil or Nightstalker that could have sparked enough loathing to warrant a coordinated assault. There was another roar of sirens, and Prowl recognized one amongst the din, and he started to push himself but his shoulders scarcely left the ground before Jazz firmly, but gently pushed him down. He became distinctly more aware of the throb of his doorwings and tried to shift even a little to relieve the pressure. Sharp bolts of pain shot up his side.

Prowl hissed: “Flatfoot is inbound.”

“Ya recognize his siren?” Jazz asked.

“If you listen close enough, you can hear subtle differences.”

“Ironhide!” Jazz called his colleague over.

“EMS is a klik out,” Ironhide replied. “Ratchet’s got teams scrambled.”

“Flatfoot’s inbound. I want’m detained for questionin’.”

“Lots ‘o reporters swarming out there.”

“Wonder if he’ll be as excited ‘bout the cameras flashin’ when they catch ya haulin’m in.”

“I’ll make sure they get his good side.”

“I should be arguing against this,” Prowl said, tilting his helm to Jazz. He desperately wanted off his back. It was not the greatest of his pains, but perhaps the only one he could ameliorate. Again he tried to rise up. It was less Jazz’s servo this time that stopped him but the fiery pain that scorched his left side.

“Best case scenario, Flatfoot’s incompetent,” Jazz said. His servo flat against Prowl’s chassis. “Worse case scenario he’s dirty. He deserves a little public humiliation.”

“You are ruthless.”

“When it suits me,” Jazz agreed. “Stop, wrigglin’ mech. Ya need to stay flat ‘til a medic sees to ya.”

“I need to get off my doorwings,” Prowl argued.

“A’ight, a’ight I hear ya,” Jazz replied.

When he removed his servo, he did not leave Prowl to right himself but guided him upright, but only a little. Jazz shuffled around him and stopped to kneel behind Prowl, leaving him to rest against his lap. It was a deeply personal position, Prowl found, and he felt his cheekplates heat. He could not deny it was more comfortable than being flat on the ground. The pressure off his back only made Prowl feel the pain in his side more acutely. That shock stick had scorched more wiring than he would have thought possible. Prowl did not believe for a nanoklik that the weapon was legal, though he had never heard of a case involving one with this power before. The flashing white and red lights reflecting off the windows and the impatient wail of sirens announced the arrival of EMS teams. For them, the fence moved.

“This one’s critical,” an unfamiliar voice likely belonging to the Autobot monitoring Barricade spoke up. “And a suspected enemy combatant. We’ll escort you to base.”

“Nature of the injury?” Off riders, slight mech who transformed into motorcycles asked as they ran scans and performed immediate emergency care.

“Acid pellet round, upper back,” Jazz replied. “I neutralized it.”

A second team arrived, and Prowl resisted the urge to sigh as Jazz beckoned them over. He could not deny he needed repairs but this was more of a spectacle than he cared for. Prowl did not hiss with pain as the crew waved Jazz off and lowered him back flat to the ground, but it was a near thing. When the asked for a synopsis of his injuries, Prowl’s answers were clipped. One off rider asked him if he wanted a pain blocker, and he declined. Technically it was a lie, Prowl did want a blocker, rather badly actually, but he also wanted to think and he knew perfectly well the moment a blocker hit his processor he would be wading through tar. The crew did not appear to like his answer, but they respected it. When the stretcher came out, he shuffled himself onto it with their aid. The effort had his side screaming, and his servo tingling strangely. Again the crew asked if he wanted a blocker, and again Prowl declined it. This new tingling in his digits concerned him. Prowl made a fist to reassure himself that he could.

“Y’re in good servos, Prowl,” Jazz said. “I’ll see ya when ‘m done wit the scene.”

Why? To discuss the incident at greater length, obviously. Prowl dimmed his optics and turned inward. He wracked his processor, and tried to understand what would have motivated the trio to launch this attack. It was difficult to find focus, with each turn the ambulance made, Prowl was jostled and pain ripped him from his deliberations. One of the paramedics injected foam into the protoform surrounding the burn sight. Still, the tingling spread down Prowl’s leg, and it felt to him like someone was poking his palm with needles. This could not be good. Barricade’s shock stick may have done more harm than he had anticipated. Just some shorts, Prowl decided, nothing too severe. He took measured intakes, keeping his ventilations shallow as his left side throbbed bitterly around wound.

“Vitals are stable but the electrical impulses throughout are irregular along the left side. Check for reflexes.”

The disembodied voice of the ambulance filled the hold. Prowl winced as the paramedics seeing to his immediate care asked for him to perform some small movements. He was shaky. It was suddenly a great deal harder to move his digits. Shorts, Prowl had definitely developed a few shorts, and based on his worsening reflexes, they might even have been spreading. That tingling in his servo was starting to really burn, and Prowl clenched his denta. When the paramedic offered him a blocker again, Prowl just shook his helm. The last thing he wanted right now was to get loopy; he needed to pay attention. It was hard to pay attention as the burn seemed to be spreading up across his chassis.

As Prowl was preoccupied trying to get above his pain levels, he did not immediately realize when they had arrived. When the paramedics guided his gurney out of their colleague’s hold, Prowl was suddenly looking up at an ornately carved archway as he was pushed underneath it. His processor pinched as Prowl realized they had not taken Prowl to the medicentre, but to the Autobase, the Prime’s very palace. This was wrong. Prowl would have raised himself off the gurney if he had not been strapped in. He was helpless to resist, and resistance was almost certainly irrational. The Prime’s personal medical staff were reputedly excellent. The one that had seen to Smokescreen when he had dislocated a doorwing during a training exercise had been skilled, according to Smokescreen, and terrifying. Smokescreen had called him Hatchet. It seemed like an ominous designation for a medic.

“Status? Vitals?” A green mech of mixed ancestry stood over the medberth Prowl was quickly transferred onto. He hissed with pain. The medic... Tagonian? Perhaps a bit of Praxian?  Leaned over him and applied electrodes to Prowl’s chassis.

“Snapped cable and spiral fracture in the right leg, blaster wound,” the paramedic who had served as the ambulance exclaimed. “Electrical burn caused by a zooped up shock stick to the right side, just under the bumper. Electric shorts have been spreading from the burn sight.”

“Have you put any painblockers on board?” The medic asked.

“No. The patient refused.”

“Designation?” The medic asked and Prowl realized the question had been asked of him.

“Prowl.”

“Prowl. I’m Medic Hoist. Before I can examine your injuries I need to administer a blocker, at minimum. Do you system intolerances?”

“They make me loopy,” Prowl replied.

“We’ll start with a low dose,” Hoist said. Behind the Autobase’s high walls, Prowl supposed he was as safe as he could hope to be. He gave the barest of nods and could not help but release a vent of relief as the medic injected the blocker into the port on the left side of his neck. “Your ventilations are shallow, are you having a hard time ventilating?”

“Hurts,” he replied. “My back. My doors. It could just be pressure.”

“Reduce your sensory relays for me... Any better?”

“No.”

“I’m going to begin you exam now. Relax.”

Scanners crisscrossed his plating and Prowl sank a little into the fugue of the painblocker. Hoist pressed his digits into Prowl’s plating and it felt strange. Prickly. His plating was removed from his torso and Prowl only exhaled as the careful manipulation of his frame was enough to send pain burning through his side, even with the blocker. Prowl quickly fell back into the fugue. When he came out of it again, the ceiling above his helm had changed, and Prowl frowned. He turned his helm and looked at the equipment in the room. The tray of tools on a table near his doorwing. The OR.

“Prowl?” Hoist said. “Do you remember what I told you?”

“No,” Prowl replied. He did not remember having been told anything. With the painblockers making his processor fuzzy, he did not know which way was up.

“The shock stick strike caused a series of shorts that have been spreading through your chassis. We need to open you up and track them all down before they hit a vital system. We’re also going to clean up your leg.”

“Okay.” Prowl’s optics dimmed.

Wait. What did he okay? Before Prowl could ask Hoist what was happening, and what they had been discussing just a moment before, a powerful sedative hit Prowl’s systems and he dropped into stasis.

[olivia200312]

Sexy Car Wash~ Bay! Optimus x Human! Reader (Lemon)

Plot: Y/N decided to give Optimus a car was and dressed in her bikini. The Prime couldn't control himself but mate with her inside his truck.~ ;)

Ok, I did read about Bumblebee's car wash with the reader, but never about other bots. So I decided to give Optimus a chance. I know that Optimus is a truck and not a car, but I decided to call it a car wash. This one shot is a lemon!

This takes place in TF4 inside Cade's barn!

Head area:

Brain: Processor / Brain Module

Head: Helm

Face: Face plate

Ears: Audio receptors / Receptor Orifice / Audials

Nose: Enstril / Olfactory Sensor

Eye brow: Optical Ridge

Eyes: Optics

Mouth: Intake

Lips: Dermas

Teeth: Denta/Dentas

Tongue: Glossa

Chest area:

Chest: Chassis / Thoraxal Cavity

Back: Hexa-Lateral Scapula

Spine: Bipedalism cord / Back Strut

Chest and back armour:

Chest plate

Back plate

Mid-section plating

Neck guard

Side plating

Arm area:

Arms: Arms / Restarlueus

Forearms: Bitarlueus

Hands: Servos

Fingers: Digits

Arm armour:

Gantlets

Shoulder pads

Arm guard

Lower area:

Pelvis: Pelvis

Butt: Aft / Skid-Plate

Thighs: Tibulen

Calves: Cadulen

Feet: Pedes - the high heel bits are called Struts or Heel Struts.

Lower armour:

Skirt plates

Aft plate / Skid plate

Thigh guard

Ankle guard

General/Internal components:

Muscles: Cables / Pistons - It depends on the area in question.

Veins: Fual lines

Stomach: Tanks

Lungs: Vents - used to stop the con/bot from over heating.

Heart: Spark

Tattoos: D-con/A-bot Insignias and the lark

T-Cog: The thing that allows all Cybertronians to transform, be that their arms or their whole body.

Bonus:

Penis: Spike

Vagina: Valve

Body: Frame

Note: the art goes to the owner!

------------------------------------------------------

Y/N was Cade's eldest daughter. She was 18. Yes, it meant that Tessa was younger than her. Only a year younger. Y/N simply followed college online. She had a lot of problems in high school. When Cade found out, he was so mad at the school and principal that he homeschooled Y/N. Tessa was lucky that she didn't have problems. Y/N decided to follow college online and finish her studies that way. She was more glad and happy in fact.

When Y/N was young, she watched how her dad fixed things. Sometimes even build things. She found it interesting and asked her dad if he could teach her. He gladly agreed. Y/N found it hard, but she was learning and she was getting better and better that at one point, she could do it herself!

Tessa was different. She didn't have interest in how her dad and her 1 year older sister were fixing and building things. Tessa was beautiful if you see her. You know, blond hair and blue (?) eyes. She focused more on fashion but that doesn't mean that she was a brat. She was in fact kind and helpful. She had a secret. She had a 20-year-old boyfriend named Shane. Tessa knew that if she introduced Shane to Cade, then oh boy. Troubles will come. But she did tell Y/N her secret and her, being a good sister she was, kept Tessa's secret.

Now, you both noticed that their mother was never mentioned here. Well, to tell you the sad truth, their mother wasn't alive. She died when Y/N and Tessa were very young. It was sad that some kids didn't know who their dead relatives were. But Cade was a good dad and told his daughters everything about their mother. He even showed photos.

Years later, when the girls were adults (well, not Tessa since she's 17), something unexpected happened that only will happen probably in the far future (or it were only fantasies). Cade brought one day an old truck home with Y/N. Now, Cade, Tessa, and Y/N had problems with money during that time. Tessa wanted Cade to sell the truck, but he simply said no. Y/N agreed with her dad. She had a feeling that it wasn't just a truck...

When Cade and Y/N were busy at the barn, they found that it wasn't a truck, but an actual Transformer! It was the leader of the Autobots, Optimus Prime himself. Everyone was shocked. Lucas was there too. Even Tessa. When Optimus transformed, he was mad. He threatened the humans to stay away or else he'll kill them. Y/N wasn't blaming the Prime for it, but at KSI. They decided to team up with Lockdown and hunt the Autobots down... The sadly manages to kill Ratchet.

Once Optimus was calm thanks to Cade and Y/N, they all introduced themselves. The leader was thankful to Y/N and Cade. He also started to lay his optics on Cade's eldest daughter. He couldn't help but admire her beauty and personality. Even though when he was freaking tall, he actually can transform small. It's called a bipedal form. He didn't told and show it yet to others, but he did have a plan to show it very soon.

Y/N became very close to the leader of the Autobots. She fell in love with him. He was just so brave, smart, and strong. They got to know each other and chatted for hours.

Now~

Y/N just entered the barn. Her hair was in a ponytail and wore a loose F/C tanktop and shorts. She noticed how Optimus wasn't clean that she decided to give him a car wash. Well, maybe a truck wash since he was a truck and not a car. Still, car wash suited more perfectly.

"Hello, Optimus."

Optimus was in his Cybertronian form and was sitting on the ground. He looked down at Y/N and couldn't help but blush. She was wearing a bit of revealing clothes. "Hello, Y/N. Is there something you need?"

Y/N smiled. "I came here to give you a car wash since you're dirty. Do you mind if you're in your alt form?"

"Not at all, Y/N." He then transformed into his truck form and stood still. However, he can still speak.

"Are you ready, Optimus?"

"Yes, I am. Take your time much as you need."

Y/N smiled and got the water hose ready. She then turned the water on and started to spray Optimus. The water was a bit cold that the Prime wiggled a bit in surprise. Y/N giggled by his actions.

Once the Prime was wet enough, Y/N turned the water off and... took her tank top off and shorts, revealing her in a bikini. It was dark blue with red a bit mixed up. Just like Optimus' colors. Optimus blushed bright blue now while in his alt form. He started to think... dirty things about her. He was getting horny and turned on.

Y/N then grabbed a sponge and started to wash him. Optimus was watching her washing him. The soap on him was only used on vehicles and since Optimus was a truck, Y/N used it. The dirt was coming off very well. Y/N then put the soap in the bucket and grabbed the water hose. She turned it on and splashed the Prime. Once the soap was off, she turned the water hose off.

"Alright, now I need to wash your hood so I'm gonna climb on a ladder, ok?" Y/N said.

Optimus hummed. "Understood."

Y/N walked off to get the ladder, her hips moving. She felt Optimus watching her, but what she didn't know was that Prime was getting horny. He never thought that femme humans like Y/N could be sexy.

Y/N came back with the ladder and pressed it gently against Optimus' side and climbed. Once she was on the top, she made the hood wet with the water hose, and then she grabbed the sponge and washed. She heard Optimus purr and heck, even moan softly! Prime was feeling pleasure!

Y/N smirked and continued to tease him. "Enjoying it, Prime?"

Optimus was speechless. He was enjoying it but didn't expect that Y/N would tease him with her voice. Oh, she's going to get it...

Once Y/N was done washing, she sprayed to get the soap off. She then turned the water hose off and climbed down. "There you go, Prime. All clean."

"Thank you, Y/N. It was enjoyable."

Y/N smirked. "You definitely did, Prime. I heard you purr and even moan.~"

Y/N then walked off to put the stuff away. Optimus was blushing mad now. He was sure now going to teach her a lesson.

Y/N was about to put the water hose back to its place when suddenly she felt servos on her hips. Y/N yelped as she got turned around and dropped the water hose. She couldn't believe what she saw. It was Optimus! Only... smaller.

"H-How?"

Optimus chuckled. "When we were on Earth, Lennox made us these forms."

Y/N blushed. He was so sexy up close! She couldn't believe that Prime and others had these forms! And the Optimus' optics... they're so beautiful up close.

Suddenly Optimus smirked and backed Y/N into a wall. "You teased me, you know that?"

Y/N's face got redder. She didn't expect him to show this side of his. Usually, he's a calm, respectful, strong, brave, stern (etc) leader. But this side? Oh boy, this was new.

Y/N didn't respond. She was just lost.

Optimus chuckled deeply and leaned down towards her ear. "You need to be punished, my dear."

Y/N snapped awake and tried to escape, but Optimus quickly picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Y/N squealed and yelped. She started to hit his hexa-lateral scapula. "Prime!"

Optimus chuckled and opened his truck and laid Y/N down on the backseat of the truck. He then got in too, closed the door, locked in and climbed on top of her, both of his servos besides Y/N's head.

"Are you ready to be punished, sweetspark?" His voice was deep and seductive that it cause Y/N to shiver.

Y/N's eyes filled up with lust. "Hell yes."

Optimus then smashed his dermas against her soft lips, kissing her roughly. Y/N kissed him back with force and Optimus' glossa was already in Y/N's mouth, marking her territory as his. They both were just lost in pure pleasure that they're going fast. Let's just say that Y/N was already in lacy bra and panties. They were dark blue with a bit red like Optimus' colors. She was in love with the leader ever since she met him.

Optimus was roughly sucking and kissing her neck. "Look at you, laying underneath me, wearing my colors. You're so beautiful..."

Y/N's arms were rubbing her hands over his entire hexa-lateral scapula. She was basically exploring and even scratching his paint in pleasure. Once Optimus was done, he leaned down and literally ripped her bra off.

"H-Hey!"

Optimus didn't say anything and just kisses her chest everywhere, especially her boobs. He read on the world wide web about humans so that he can learn more. He accidentally stumbled about bodies and read everything about it. He was surprised about some facts of male and female bodies.

Optimus buried his helm between her boobs and licks everywhere. They were just so soft and warm that he couldn't keep it. He also read that when female humans gave birth to babies, then they can feed them with milk through breasts. Optimus then took a nipple and started to suck. Y/N moaned while stroking his helm. Optimus then switched and gave other nipple attention. He even bit them softly! When he bit, then Y/N flinched. Her nipples were hard.

Once Optimus was done, he moved his helm lower until he reached Y/N's panties. He actually also used his own denta to pull it down. Y/N blushed but giggled. She even lifted her ass a bit up so that Optimus could pull her panties off with his denta. Once her panties were on the floor, Optimus spread Y/N's legs open and started to eat her out. Y/N moaned loud. She felt his glossa touching sensitive spots. "P-Prime!"

Optimus hummed while his glossa went deeper. He was enjoying the taste and he loved hearing Y/N's moans, squeals, and screams of pleasure. It was like music to his audio receptors. He continued to eat her out while Y/N was moaning and panting.

"I-I'm cumming!" Y/N said while panting.

"Cum for me," Optimus said in a deep voice.

Y/N shivered and moaned loud. She then came and Optimus licked her juices up. Y/N panted while she laid her head on the seat. Who knew that all of this pleasure could make you tired. But Optimus wasn't done yet. He wanted to claim the human girl as his. Only his. He towered above Y/N and looked deep into her eyes. Her cheeks were puffing pink. "You taste delicious, my dear. But are you ready to be claimed by me?" He purred.

Y/N blushed. She wasn't gonna lie. She was slightly nervous, but she wanted to be claimed by the mighty strong Prime. "Claim me, Prime. I want you so bad. Fuck me so hard till I can't walk."

Optimus growled. He was so ready to frag her so hard till she can't walk the next day. He began to push spike, who was free, into Y/N's wet human valve. Y/N felt tears building from the pain. The Prime was just so huge that he was stretching her walls. When Optimus was full, he gave Y/N to adjust. He whispered sweet things into her ear to distract her from the pain.

When Y/N felt that the pain was gone, she wrapped her legs around his and wrapped her arms around his neck. "M-Move."

Optimus then started in and out, causing Y/N to moan. The Prime grunted a bit of pleasure. He could feel that Y/N's walls started to tighten in pleasure.

"F-Faster! H-Harder!" Y/N begged.

Optimus gladly granted her wishes and went faster and harder. He growled in pleasure and hid his faceplate in the crook of her warm neck. Y/N started to moan loud and when Optimus hit her G-spot, she screamed. "R-Right there!"

Optimus then began to slam her G-spot many times that Y/N will for sure not walk the next day. He started to bite Y/N's neck to leave more hickeys. He purred while enjoying hearing Y/N's screams and moans in pleasure. Y/N felt a knot in her stomach. She was coming close. She then screamed Optimus' name in pleasure.

"O-Optimus! I-I'm cumming!"

"Cum for me," Optimus growled while continue to slam into her.

The truck was also moving a bit. You know... when people were having sex inside an alt. And look at that, Optimus and Y/N were having sex inside Optimus' truck. Good that others weren't in the barn or else they'll ve been suspicious and shocked. Y/N was also scratching Optimus' paint since the pleasure was unbelievable.

Y/N screamed and finally came. Her juices were over Optimus' spike and he growled lowly and came to a lot. Y/N's gasped a bit when she felt his warm seed deep inside of her. Even to her womb. Some cum even dripped down. Optimus stayed inside of Y/N for a few minutes before he pulled out. He then laid beside Y/N and pulled her in his arms. The human girl snuggled and fell asleep. Optimus fell into recharge as well.

Finally done. I'm busy with other stories. I'm trying to update more on my one shots books. I'm also surprisingly thinking to make a one shot book of Bowser. King of the Koopas and a dad as well from Mario. He isn't getting attention a lot. Not all villains are that bad then you think.

[killerniinja]

drabble on ricochet’s past days in the dojo. tw for emotional trauma/abuse. he didn’t exactly come from any good background...

“Pathetic.” the cyberninja sensei scowled at the sight before him. He walked up slowly to the dark plated mech, who laid on his knees, exhausted from his rigorous training session. “I expected more from you. Especially you, dear Ricochet. You have the potential, but lack the ability to fulfill it.” Ricochet kept his optics fixated at the floor below him, panting quietly. He swallowed hard, hesitation and nervousness burned through him as he refused to look at his master.

“I’ve done all I can, a’ight? It’s too fraggin’ hard.” He muttered. Master Yoketron stood there, above his student. He did not tolerate the stubborn nature of this one. He could only handle so much? The sensei pursed his lips into a thin line, feeling the sheer frustration build up inside him. He then snatched his servos upon the larger bot, forcefully pulling him up to his pedes. Yoketron pointed a shaky servo at him. “Is that so? Hard? You’ve just realized that?!” He hissed. “It’s HARD for you because you do not TRY enough. You continue to disappoint me in the end. Where is your dedication?! I need to see that you can at least take on me without falling to your knees. You must be a PERFECT assassin. Undetectable, untouchable by the enemy. Without this, you are a loss to the Autobot cause.”

Ricochet frowned, still staring down at his pedes. His sensei continued his brash rant. 'Unless you can improve your fighting skills, I have other methods to make sure you do not disappoint me again.’ Ricochet huffed, rolling his optics under his visor. The anger built up in him.  'For Primus's sake, I’m not some slaggin’ programmed drone! I know what I’m doin’! Stop bein’ so fraggin’ whiny about it!!’ He snapped back.

“What did you say?!’” the sensei hissed. A mistake.

Yoketron snarled, grabbing the larger ninjabot by the chin. He then pushed him to the ground, pinning him there as he raised a servo at Ricochet. The ninjabot froze, optics widened as he felt a strong, horrifying ringing roar in his processor. Soon having his servos clamp upon his helm, panicking as he only hears the haunting words of his sensei echo in his processor.

“We talked about this, dear student.” Yoketron spoke over Ricochet. 'You. Do not raise your voice at me. Certainly not me.’

Ricochet lay hunched over, clutching his helm as he let out cries of despair. The deafening pain worsened, only to be heard in his helm. A blood-curdling scream filled the silent dojo.”STOP!! STOP IT–STOP IT PLEASE-” He hissed. Yoketron stares down at his student, a cold, wicked expression washed over their features. He smirked, tutting to himself as he lowered his servo. Ricochet suddenly felt the ringing fade away, growing quiet as he shakily lifted his helm, his own vision blurred by lubricants. He flinched in hearing them speak again- “Remember, my student. We’re here to improve your fighting skills. We must eliminate what makes you weak.” Yoketron bent down, his servo grazed over Ricochet’s face, before clutching his chin, their optics met his. “Understand?” He hissed quietly. The dark plated mech bit his whimpering dermas, nodding in return. He hated feeling this way. “Good. Do not raise your voice at me again. Do recall, I am the only one who was able to take you in, yes?” his voice grew quiet. Ricochet felt a lurch in his inside mechanisms. He wanted to turn away.

“Yes, master.” He manages to utter out. “And I was the only one who was able to see the potential in you. You are an excellent student, but you have many flaws.” Yoketron then got up, placing his servos behind him. Blood red optics narrowed to slits, gaze was still intense as ever. “So, for this moment- you will be spending some time in the confined space I have. Must you sort your reckless thoughts in there.” Ricochet widened his optics, knowing exactly what lied ahead of him. He struggled in getting up, not until Yoketron took him by the arm. He dragged the taller mech with him, speed walking down a dark hall in the dojo before they reached a dead end with a tall door. Without a word, Yoketron presses a button, the door hatch swished open, hastily did he push Ricochet inside, stumbling to the ground as he hit the underside of his chin. BANG. The door slid down shut behind him. Ricochet felt himself grow distant from everything around him, ignoring the fresh scrape from his impact. Yoketron’s cold voice echoed from the other side. “Remain here until I decide to let you out. Do not try anything this time dear student. I’ll be watching.” The metal tmp tmp of their pedes faded away to dead silence. Leaving the student to dwell in his thoughts.

He couldn’t hold it back. Ricochet cried out in anger as he punched the wall before him, leaving a dent. He stared at it before letting out a scream of rage, using his own clawed servos to gnash at the walls. “STUPID PIECE OF SLAG-

One strike after the other, tearing away the plating of the wall, leaving nothing but deep gashes upon the metal. “Stupid, stupid, FRAGGIN’ BASTARD-”

He stopped, one servo clamped onto the wall, sliding downwards.

The mech broke down, cutting back sobs as he bumped his helm onto the wall. The tears formed, falling down from his features as he silently cried to himself. “….b-bastard…” He croaked. Ricochet grinded his fists, his denta bared their fangs. All the pain, anger, frustration bled through. It wasn’t fair. It was like this. Every time. Every damn time he messed up, he was thrown in here. Or worse, having Yoketron hook him to that machine of his, dampening his processor with haunting images and words, sending high surges of electricity through the mech. Either way, he’d meet a fate where it led to Ricochet questioning his own purpose in this world. “Fraggin son of a bitch.” He said with a shaky sigh. “I wanna kill you. I wanna kill you so bad. I wanna see you suffer from my own servos.” He kept these whispered thoughts to himself. But oh did he want to actually accomplish such things. He yearned for the possibility of eliminating Yoketron, for good. After his rage fit, he laid back against the wall, optics shut, swarmed neck-deep in his own processor. How long has it been? He doesn’t keep count anymore. Not since. Why would it matter anyway? He knew he will find himself locked in this room again. With nothing but his own sanity to keep company.

Ricochet was fed up. He needed change. The sooner, the better he’ll be able to get even with his sensei.

[whirlybirbs]

i’m begging u .. can u write a rlly fluffy blurb about bee’s human getting injured and worried!bee is all over her

UNLAWFUL ARREST ;

summary: charlie, memo and you accidentally intercept a distress call.enter barricade & frenzy. it’s fight night at the junkyard. frenzy has rabies.pairing: bumblebee x human!readerrating: t for canon-typical-violence & some swearing!a/n: this was very fun to write bc i love ‘cade and i love ‘bee and i love one bad-ass reader with one (1) good wrench. set in the 2018 bumblebee movieverse!

Shit.

Charlie had woken you up out of a dead sleep, rattling your window frame with rocks much larger than pebbles to indicate the urgency -- sure enough, her and Memo were saddled up on her bike. 

Leaning out the window, you hush them both.

“What?” you whisper-yell, “Shh, stop yelling, you idiots --”

“The junkyard!” Charlie finally gets out, eyes wild, “Something’s going on. Something bad. We need to help them.”

Sector 7? The Decepticons? 

The blood drains from your face. You don’t even respond, just begin to tear your room apart in a desperate attempt to throw on a sweater and jeans and tuck the long-distance Sonic Ranger radio into your back pocket  -- your Adidas beat down the stairs as you burst through the door, meeting Charlie and Memo half-way down the cul-de-sac. You’re running, hair wild and sleep forgotten. 

“How’d you know?” you ask, lungs burning as the three of you beat the tarmac in the direction of Old Maccadam’s Junkyard. Charlie’s electric bike has a lot on you, peddling like a bat out of hell, “Is ‘Bee okay?”

“We got a call on the radio -- sounded like a distress signal -- a lot of yelling --”

You move, tugging the walkie talkie from your jeans and clicking on the signal. There’s a lot of static, and then you press the receiver.

“’Musketeers to base, I repeat, Musketeers to base.”

Nothing. Just endless static.

“What the hell?”

“I know,” Charlie says, “Sideswipe always has the frequency on. No one’s responding.”

Suddenly, headlights flood over the three of you. 

“Charlie --”

“Shit.”

You turn, still peddling, spotting the paint-job of s Dodge Diplomat behind you. 

“Is that Prowl?” you ask, confusion flooding your voice as your eyes bounce to Charlie next to you. She blinks, turning to look. 

Memo, upon hearing the name of the Autobot Second-in-Command, brightens visibly and begins waving his arms wildly. “Prowl! Hey! It’s -- it’s us! Your friends! You know --”

Suddenly, the police cruiser surges forward and it’s lights paint the night sky red and purple.

The Decepticon insignia on the hood sneers in your face. 

“Not Prowl!” Memo screeches, “So not Prowl! Bad guy! That’s a bad guy!”

“Shit!”

You both turn fast, dipping off the road and into the rocky path towards the run-down scrap-yard turned Autobot base in attempt to shake the sudden predator who’s tailing you too close for comfort.

The sand and rocks and cacti don’t do much to dissuade Barricade, though. He’s trudged through worse to track down Autobot filth. In this center console, Frenzy vibrates -- his senseless chatter seems to grow as nimble metallic servos tune his own radio to Judas Priest.

“BREAKING THE LAW, BREAKING LAW!”

Barricade doesn’t mind this Earth music too much.

The three of you hit the Junkyard’s wall fast, breaking in opposite directions along the fence. You break hard, kicking up sand and peddling as fast as you can along the western side of the scrapyard.

“‘Bee! Optimus!” you screech, “For fuck’s sake, Sunny! Anyone!”

The growl of the engine behind you startles a scream from your throat.

You cut the handlebars fast, turning into the back-end of the scrap yard and hauling your bike over the fence as fast as you can. Slipping through the gaps in the chain-link, where it’s curled and rusted, you take off on foot and are fast to duck into the shadows of the scrapyard’s rusted and gutted cars. 

At first, Barricade rolls by.

You look around wildly, wondering where the hell they all were. 

They were twenty-foot tall alien robots. They weren’t hard to misplace. 

Suddenly, the large flood lights fixed high above the Junkyard crank on -- and Barricade spies you duck fast beneath a bottomed-out Buick. From your spot, you see Charlie and Memo climbing the cat-walk, desperate to get a sight on the Autobots normally here. 

The yard is silent. 

For a second.

And then, Barricade transforms.

You reach for the radio, shaky hands tuning the dial. You whisper desperately.

“Musketeers to Car Show, we’ve got a problem here! So, I dunno, return to base!”

He seethes, peeling away the fence and taking his time to stroll through the Junkyard. “So this is what they call home now.”

Charlie and Memo freeze, gripping one another tightly. 

Barricade seems to ignore the reaction, seems to ignore them both completely. He isn’t interested in fleshlings -- he’s interested in Optimus. And that fragging scout of his. 

“Where are they?” Barricade asks casually, “Where are the Autobots?”

Red optics sweep around, no doubt trying to get a read on the absent energon signals. Even still, the three of you are silent. 

A ped crushes the car next to you like a tin-can and you squeak. 

“Frenzy,” Barricade rumbles, “Handle the humans. Pick their bones.”

“Pick our bones --?!”

“Shit!”

The compartment in his chest bursts open, revealing the three-foot tall death mini-con hankering from a snack. 

You scream then, launching yourself over the Buick and throwing the walkie talkie as hard as you can. It nails Frenzy straight between the optics, giving you enough time to book it to the main storage space -- but, Frenzy is hot on your heels with sharp denta snapping at your knees. You trip, landing hard on the concrete as Frenzy’s servos dig into your ankles. You scream, landing a hard kick that sends the mini-bots servos offline for a second. 

You bound up the catwalk, just in time to see Bumblebee make his entrance. 

Sometimes you forget he’s a soldier -- he’s strong and fast and lands lightning punches that nearly cripple the Decepticon in a seconds time. His battle-mask is up and ready, blue optics narrowed in an angry determination. 

With Barricade on the ground, those blue optics connect with your gaze. He seems to go soft for a moment, waving slowly. You laugh -- dirt covered face cracking into a grin. 

You’re enthralled, completely and totally, but the current Decepticon threat ruins the moment. Barricade pulls the scout down by his door-wings just as Frenzy chatters out a sharp cackle and continues his hungry pursuit of you.

“Get off of me, you gear shift!” you holler, hands winding into the spaces in his plating as you toss the bot to the catwalk stairs. The whole thing rattles and Charlie, up above, shouts your name.

“Catch!”

A 12″ wrench.

Or, in this case, a blunt-force weapon. 

You swing down hard and fast, catching the minibot as it rolls away and shrieks. 

Suddenly, the junkyard is flooded with more Autobots -- Prowl is first through the gates, landing a hard hit on Barricade as Bee staggers back from a blow to the processor. Optimus is next, full of grace and power as he draws his gun and nails Barricade’s shoulder amidst the scuffle. 

Frenzy, now corned by the three of you, has set it’s sights back on your ankles -- he clings, scaling the skin there and landing a harsh bite on your thigh. 

“Son of a bitch!” 

“FRENZY! RETREAT!”

You unceremoniously throw the minicon off you, hammering home with the 12″ wrench. It’s barbaric and the move even has Ironhide wincing as the small Decepticon dashes from the premise and follows the taillights of the Dodge Diplomat into the night. 

You huff, hands dropping to your knees.

“Jesus.”

Charlie, behind you, has a hand wound in Memo’s shirt. They both look shaken, albeit safe. Silence settles in the junkyard. Along the comms, Ooptimus is barking out orders. You can tell by the way his optics move.

‘Bee is by your side in a second’s time, rolling onto his knees and eyeing you with a wide and worried look. He coos, offering a gentle prod. Blood is running down your leg, ruining your jeans and splattering on your Adidas. 

“Bad dog -- zzrt -- he’ll bite ya! Woof!”

And then you laugh.

And then Charlie does. And Memo, too. 

And Prowl looks at you three like you’ve shorted out. 

“I’m gunna need,” you say between breaths, “A tetanus shot. He bit me. That fuckin’ thing bit me. It bit me.”

‘Bee whirs again, sounding sick with worry.

Ratchet steps in then, gesturing the rest of the crew to get to work at cleaning up the mess the scuffle made. He kneels, servos gentle as he narrows his optics and blinks at the wound.

“Let me clean his up,” he says slowly, “You three are lucky we came when we did.”

“We tried calling,” you mutter, “But no one was home.”

“We were trying to locate Barricade. He’d broadcast-ed a distress signal when he landed. Though, it seems our Musketeers found him before we did.”

Ratchet transforms, opening the back doors of his alt. mode. You crawl in, accepting the ride to the main hangar. ‘Bee follows close behind, the rush in his systems starting to quiet and cool. Right now, you’re the main focus of his worries -- he’ll rip Frenzy to shreds later. 

“Pants off.”

Ratchet says it so curtly, Charlie and Memo take it as their cue to leave -- so they make their way to Optimus leaving you and ‘Bee and Ratchet in the main hangar. You grumble softly at the command, rolling your eyes slightly and tugging at your belt buckle.

“Could at least take me to dinner first.”

‘Bee chirps angrily from his spot behind Ratchet. 

“Bumblebee,” he sighs, “I need to clean the wounds. I have no intent on seducing your mate.”

Your eyes widen. You blink. ‘Bee has worked himself into a flurry at that, waving wildly and buzzing more like a wasp than anything.

“What did you just call me?!”

“Will you sit?”

You do as your told, wiggling your pants off and hissing softly at the sting. There’s a lot of blood -- the gashes are deep, too. Just seeing them makes your face run cold. Settling on the edge of the bench, Ratchet deploys his holoavatar.

Older, with white hair and a kind face. His hands are gentle. ‘Bee watches the whole way. 

You try to distract yourself. 

“See ‘Bee? Nothing more than a scratch. I’m fine.”

“These are deep wounds,” Ratchet counters. You whack the shoulder of his holoform. It fizzles out at the rough contact. He yelps. “I am just being honest!”

“Yeah, well,” you chirp, “Stop being a good doctor and tell me I’ll be fine.”

“You will be fine,” he mutters, “If I can ensure you don’t get any Cybertronian-prone bacterial infections.”

‘Bee nearly wallops Ratchet himself.

“Great,” you breath, “Nice. Here I am, no pants on in the middle of the base, bleeding, and that little Decepti-freak might have given me robo-rabies.”

‘Bee drives you home that night. By the time you make it in, the sun is starting to creep up along the horizon. You crawl out of the cab, moving to tug the garage door up. You’d borrowed a pair of shorts from Charlie -- she’d had some in the basket of her bike -- and Ratchet had done a nice job at patching you up.

The bandages are tight.

‘Bee rolls into the garage. You sigh, patting his hood. He transforms slowly.

“Long night, huh, buddy?”

An affirmative coo.

“You were a bad-ass out there, though. You handed Barricade his aft.”

“Not -- zzRt -- as cool as you!” ‘Bee’s gaze is heavy though. He whines a bit, nudging his face into your hands and nearly purring at the contact, “Glad -- srt -- you’re safe with me.”

You hum, enjoying the attention. A delicate servo has secured itself to your back, nudging you close to his chest. You can feel his spark vibrate under the plating there. Two hands splay across the glossy paint there. Bumblebee coos -- it’s happy and content, not full of worry like it had been earlier. 

For a while, you two settle in like that. You crawl into his lap, curled up around a big servo. His optics dim, going from a vibrant blue to a soft, pale glow. 

But, after a moment, you break the silence.

“‘Bee?”

His antennae twitch.

“Why did Ratchet call me your ‘mate’?”

Shit.

[imababblekat]

Imagine Rung/Megatron Finding Out Their S/O Is A Dragon When Saving Them From The DJD

~

Rung:

"Tarn, please, don't involve them.", Rung pleaded, optics tearing up behind his glasses.

Before him, the leader of DJD stood rigid, grip tight with you in his clenched servo. You bit back a pained groan when Tarn swished you about like a rag doll, blood being throw from your bitten and torn leg thanks to the Pet and his way of retrieving you from your hiding place.

"Last chance, psychiatrist. Megatrons files and we'll be on our way.", Tarn leered down at him.

"Don't Ru-aagh!", you yelped, being cut off by a painful squeeze.

Rung was never going to give Tarn his patients files, it went against every fiber of his being, but seeing the way your face scrunched up in pain made it really hard not to. It wouldn't have even mattered in the end, he knew Tarn and his crew of murderous psychopaths wouldn't let either of you go if he did give him Megatrons files. He'd at least hope though that if he had, they would spare you with a quick-

"AAAGH!!!"

"Rung!!"

The orange bots upper half fell forward in his trapped seat that was actually Kaon, huffing and spitting out bleeding energon from the his captors electric shock. He looked up to see you hitting Tarn's fist with all you had, the latter ignoring your pitiful attempts of escape and to cause harm in favor of capturing Rung's gaze as it peered out behind his falling glasses.

"The files.", the tyrant said once more, his voice low and making Rung feel as though a vice was clenching down on his spark.

Mustering up what energy he had left, the psychiatrist grit his denta, optics glaring harshly now that his glasses had fallen completely off, and in a tone that even surprised him, told Tarn off.

"Go frag yourself, Tarn."

The DJD leaders optics widened behind his obscuring mask. This small Autobot sure didn't seem to have it in him, but there was no missing the cold, venomous spite dripping from not only his words but also his very own glare alone. Tarn would be lying if he said he wasn't just a little impressed. However, it didn't matter, because all that strength and bravado only caused him to let out a small, hearty laugh.

"You amuse me Autobot, but. . ."

Tarn nudged his helm back to Helex who quickly open his built in incinerator.

"I grew bored of you a long time ago.", Tarn finished with a drop in his tone.

Before Rung or even you had registered it, Tarn had thrown you back into Helex chamber, the glass door shutting tight and cutting off your terrified scream. The chamber lit with fire, covering any view of you the Lost Light psychiatrist once had, and he lurched forward only to be sent another painful shock from Kaon to stop him from calling out your name. Tarn turned on heel, walking past his closing in team members like a pack of wolves as he pulled out his communicator.

"Eyebrows made his decision not to give us Megatrons files the moment we strapped him down; we've wasted time. Do what you want with them, I'm going to call Nickel and-"

Tarn didn't get to finish, as he had been quickly interrupted by Helex screaming. He turned around fast to see the round mech fall to his knees, his friends staring at him in just as much confusion as their leader, only to suddenly have Helex throw his chamber open and a large fireball to come shooting out. Before it's path was Kaon and Rung, but the Con had only time to transformer back to bi pedal mode before being slammed and engulfed by raging flames and smoke.

The DJD grouped up before the plume of ash and smokey clouds which glowed bright red and orange, weapons at the ready and all on edge. Tarn narrowed his optics to try and make sense of what was happening within the dense cloud, when he heard another pitiful scream and sickening crunch. When it had all finally dispersed, he knew what those sounds had come from. Before him and his team stood a terrifying beast, one of hardened scales and pure muscle. Thorn like spikes poked out along parts of their armored body, and two giant, sharply pointed horns curled out from the top of their head. Two pairs of powerful wings spread out from their back, making them look bigger and more menacing. Finally, they had razor sharp eyes, slits for pupils that screamed death, smoke flowing out from their nostrils and from their mouth, the later of which was filled to the brim with insanely dangerous looking rows of teeth, some of which were piercing straight through the DJD member Kaon.

Staring straight into his spark, this creature, a dragon, tossed Kaon's half dead body at Tarns pedes. Never once did he take his optics off the creature, but from the wet feeling that began to seep the soil at his feet, Tarn didn't have to look down to see the damage his teammate was in. His guns lit, ready to fire along with those still standing, but before he could give the command, the deathly monster spoke.

"Leave.", their voice rang out like thunder and courses of other voices all together; the energon from Kaon dripping out and splattering the ground.

The two stared at one another, snake like eyes holding that of Decepticon optics, before eventually it was Tarn who lowered his stance. He was a strong, and terrifying enemy to have, and while typically one up for a good fight, he could tell this was not a foe he'd want to face, or at least today with half his team down. Saying nothing he waved to Vos and Tesuarus, the later helping up a very drained and in pain Helex to his pedes. Picking up the limp, but still barely alive Kaon, Tarn looked to the dragon once more, who of which never took their threatening gaze off him, before he finally turned to take leave.

Once the group was finally gone, and the dragon felt they were no longer in danger, they uncurled their large tail to reveal the small Autobot who had not even scratch from their monstrous display. Rung groaned, turning his helm over with flickering optics. Through what he could see of the blur above him, all he could register was the last sight of his human significant other, and their cruel death, and the feeling of immense sorrow envelope his core before he laid his helm down once more.

"(y,n), (y,n). . .", he whimpered out in a choked sob before falling into stasis.

"It's okay Rung. It's going to be okay.", you, the fiery beast who's entire body covered his protectively, whispered into his audials.

Megatron:

"Let them go Tarn.", Megatron ordered in such a calm tone compared to the way he'd give orders when the DJD member knew him at his “best".

Tarn's denta gritted, his grip on you becoming tighter as you gasp for air. The flicker of panic in the ex Warlords optics give his spark a tinge of happiness, but it was not enough. The fact that Megatron, the Megatron, a leader who Tarn had followed and devoted his life to, was not only trying to stop him from squishing any organic, but an organic that happened to be the grey mech's significant other. It made Tarn sick to his core, and he had to hold back from squishing you right then and there.

"What happened Megatron? I remember a time when we'd erratic planets filled with these disgusting things.", Tarn spoke, talking and moving you about like you were nothing more than object; a pest.

"Yes, but that time is behind us now and I've changed.", Megatron replied, taking a step forward only to step back when the other members raised their weapons with a click.

It wasn't so much a concern for his safety, but yours. Megatron could easily take all of them down, but with you at risk, he'd have to be more careful about his actions.

"Oh, trust me, I know.", Tarn glared at the Autobot badge that decorated Megatrons armor.

Megatron glanced down at the badge for a second before bringing his gaze back up to Tarn. When the later had commed the Lost Light, he'd expected they wanted him as well as any other Decepticon turned Autobot on the ship. While just outside the ships bridge, and in the midst of comforting Drift, he'd suddenly heard Rodimus go off in a flurry of curses. Ultra Magnus had been the one to come rushing out the bridges doors to retrieve him, and what Megatron saw on screen made him feel both instant regret and furious anger. He knew he should have joined you when you and a group of your other mechanical friends went to the planet below the Lost Light for some fun. If he had, he wouldn't have been staring at your terrified face on screen in the hold of the DJD, and he wouldn't be here now, by himself as requested and staring at you in the grip of Tarn's servos.

"Tell me this all just some plan of yours.", Tarn began, his voice desperate and hopeful. "Tell me that you're just trying to get close, get the Autobot's guard down so you can attack them at their weakest. Tell me Megatron! Tell me this is all just some elaborate plan of yours!"

Tarn felt his spark drop when the later shook his helm. With furrowed optic ridges Megatron spoke with a low, but sincere voice.

"The war is over, Tarn. No more fighting."

"But what about all those years. All of those years spent following your orders and the cause?"

Megatron frowned, wanting to look down but kept himself from doing so. Another regret of his; taking the lives in not the sense of killing, but wasting it.

"Make new ones. You have time now; you're life is yours now."

Tarn felt his frame shake with bitter rage. Nothing he said or could do would bring Megatron back to who he was, to who the DJD leader thought he rightfully was, that much was clear.

"Enough.", Tarn's voice dropped, Megs optics twitching at the tightness around his spark.

Tossing you to the ground, a horrifying cracking sound resided and Megatron felt his body run cold when yours stopped moving. There wasn't enough time for him to take in all that just happened, because before he knew it he had been knocked back by the heavy punch of Tarn's fist. The DJD members behind him grabbed hold, and threw Megatron to the ground, using all their might to keep him there. The ex warlord was ready to throw them off, but any strength he had was quickly depleted at the sound of Tarn's lowering voice by his helm.

"You were great Megatron. Now look at you, feeling sorrow over an organic.", Tarn spat, taking in the sight of Megatrons fizzing optics and dangerous glow emitting from his spark chamber.

"It's such a shame you won't be here to see me continue the Decepticon cause. First, starting with the eradication of orga-"

"AAAGH!!!"

Tarn quickly looked up and in the direction of everyone else's alerted attention to see Vos suddenly engulfed in a spur of flames. Distracted by the frighting display, Tarn didn't see Megatron quickly regain his strength till it was to late and he was quickly punched back in the gut. Hitting the ground with a thud he gave out the order and his team began firing at Megatron. Feeling the sharp pains of being hit, Megatron waited for more once he fell back to the ground, only to suddenly feel nothing. Looking up and around him he had been shielded by a pair of large. . .wings?! A loud roar erupted, easily silencing the sound of gun fire, and just like him, Megatron was sure the other mech's were covering their audials in pain as well. When it stopped and the wings retracted, Megatron was finally able to take in the sight of what the DJD had.

A monstrous beast surrounded him, making him appear the size of a minibot, it's body covered in scales blacker than night, and some parts rigid with thorny spikes that no one would dare to be caught by. Being as close he was, Megatron didn't need to lay a servo on them to know how strong and built their body was; they could easily break a bolder with just their hands if they wanted to. Speaking of which, they had talons that tore into the earth, and on the right hand Megs could see the glowing liquid that was someones energon. Optics following their long body, he took note of the four wings on their back, the things that had shielded him from a shower of bullets and not even looking scratched. His widened gaze soon came to the dragons head, their sharp, slit eyes focused on the startled and some petrified DJD crew, but even though it was not on him, even he had a chill run of up his spinal strut. Finally, the mouth of the horrid beast was left for him to view. Rows upon rows of teeth sharp enough to pierce the hardest metal aligned it, dripping with saliva and energon, and fumming from that horrifying maw were the flickers of reddened flames just waiting to be fired out in a display of mass destruction.

After taking in the horrifying beast, Megatron took a step back but felt something strange. He didn't feel the sense of danger, that sixth sense that was always at the nape of his neck, instead he felt something strangely safe, and even stranger, something familiar coming from this dragon. Expression no loner one of shock or surprise, Megatron turned to face the DJD, his gaze landing on Tarns. Looking away from the piercing glare of the beast, Tarn felt his spark stop when his optics were captured by Megatron. That look; that look of pure terror and death flooded his processor with memories of the past. With a beast so menacing curled behind him, ready for the moment to unleash an unimaginable peril, and an aura that screamed for any foe to run, Tarn could only stare with wide optics at the mech who gave him those feelings. This was the Megatron he knew.

Quickly jumping to his pedes, he ordered Kaon to grab the charred Vos and ran back to the Peaceful Tyranny with his beaten and bleeding teammates. Megatron alone was a fight not easily won, but with the dragon behind him, Tarn got the same spark stopping fear from them as he would from the ex warlord.

Once assured that they were no longer a threat, Megatron continued to stare at the horizon the DJD had retreated over, a beautiful sunset taking over the tense and dark situation he had been in. With the pink and orange hued sky reflecting in his optics, Megatron didn't need to look over to know what the sudden breeze beside him came from.

"Why didn't you tell me?", he murmured, tone low but with a hint of softness.

You stared at the painted sky as well, hand hesitantly reaching out to rest against Meg's metal leg, but the later not once stepping away or making any notion that he didn't want your soft touch.

"You're not the only one with a past."

~xXx~

[dildo-swaggins-t-baggins]

Can we have a part 3 of Rodimus running away from the crew with everyone feeling guilty and MUST apologize: When they find Rodimus he’s captured and hypnotized by the DJD to be the new Evil Decepticon Leader, cause unlike most bots the DJD sees Rodimus’ qualities and potential! Drift begs Rod to fight their control, but Rod says: “And go back to bots that always treated me like garbage? HAHAHAHAHA! Sorry Drift, I don’t think so!” Then Rod almost kills Megs until Thunderclash fights him! 💔

Welp I made a few tweeks, but I hope this is to your liking!

His denta hurt, grinding them down started to really wear on his jaw, he knelt down next to the colorful heavily damaged captain. He knew how this conversation was going to go, the captain was in shock, he had questions, and the whole ‘you’re still good’ thing. Rodimus rolled his optics, falling on his aft and leaning back on his servos. “So, might as well get this whole conversation over with.”

 The captain’s optics flickered, they were twisted, washer fluid pooled at the sides. “Rodimus, what? Why?” 

He didn’t like how  the captain’s voice cracked, so much emotion, wasted, then again it was him, and that was normal, always wasting time and energon on him. Rodimus smirked, feeling his lines grow cold. “Why not? Optimus knew I was going to be a leader so,” He shrugged. “It just fits.”

 The captain whined, so broken, defeated, it really did look like the poor mech was going to break down. Then again having half of your frame torn off and bleeding could do that to a mech. “What happened to you?”

Rodimus narrowed his optics, watching the captain’s energon leak out, he vented, scooting over, heating up his digits and melting the lines shut. “A lot,” Patch him up, I’m not done with him, I’m not done with any of them. He felt the blasters on his hips, the sniper rifle on his back struts, the blades on his sides, he wondered if the upgrades made him look like Deadlock at times. That was something he didn’t want.  the captain winced under him, his bleeding optics never strayed from Rodimus. “Like always, I messed up. Put the Rod-pod in orbit, and drank myself into the bottom of the brewery. Blacked out, woke up as the Rod-pod crashed into a moon, and found myself at the peds of Tarn.” He offered a glance to him, eating up the hurt look. “He didn’t kill me, threw a blaster at me, and well, we fought. I was still drunk, and well I couldn’t aim, but I could bite, and burn. Tarn picked away at what happened, and before I knew it Nickel was patching me up, kept saying I was a ‘pit spawn’. They took me in, and well the rest isn’t hard to figure out.” He finished up, grinning as the captain hissed at the new weld, clearly it was a sensitive area. “So that’s that.” He smiled, acting as if this was nothing, and to him it was, ‘bot ‘con, didn’t matter to him now.

The captain huffed, his one good arm reached out, tracing the new badge on his chassis. “Rod-”

Rodimus slapped away the servo. “That’s lord Rodimus.” He hissed, feeling the tiny flames bubble up his spoiler.

 The captain stared up at him defeated, he slumped. “You know, when you left the Lost Light fell apart, the crew were divided, Getaway...got away with it and...Rodimus we were planning on finding you!” The washer fluid didn’t stop.

There he goes again, wasting that emotion, that energy. Rodimus flashed his fangs, a habit he picked up when Tarn got a bit too close. “Well you found me, too bad,” He scanned the ruins, hearing ped steps. A sick grin spread across his intake, he spotted a mech, Autobot badge, white, black and yellow, this was too good. Rodimus rose to his peds, grabbing the rifle off his back, he whistled. Getaway froze, turning towards him, his whole frame locked up in fear. “Hi there.” Rodimus called, lifting the barrel up and aiming for Getaway’s helm.

Blam!

Getaway’s helm burst open, his frame collapsed in a twisted heap, spark fading away.

“Rodimus!” The captain gasped under him, grabbing at him. “This isn’t you!” So broken, funny that he thought that there was any hope. 

Rodimus kicked the arm away, flipping the captain onto his back and pressed down on his throat. He watched as the captain gasped, grabbing hold of his ped but unable to move it. It reminded him of seeing a fish out of water, gasping flipping, hopelessly. His comm pinged. “Yea?”

“Lord Rodimus, they’re making their way to you, we’ll intercept an-”

“No, don’t, someone told me they were looking so, might as well let them find me. Set up around us.” He ended the comm, once more turning to the captain, easing up in his throat. “How’s Drift?”

“Mute, he’s stopped talking,” He sputtered. “Rodimus, please don’t do this!” He wiggled only to have Rodimus press down on his throat again.

“And Ratchet?”

“Bad, he’s bad!” The captain wheezed out.

Rodimus tilted his helm, staring down at the not so colorful frame. “Are you dying?”

“Yes, for awhile now.”

“Hmmm,” Rodimus opened his intake then promptly shut it, hearing voices, once more a grin spread across his intake. Come, find me, find me you fraggers!

“There, over there, Thunderclash is there!” Velocity snapped, her engine roaring over the wreckage. 

The captain wheezed. “No,” He grabbed Rodimus’ ped. “Please, Rodimus don’t do this.” 

His spark twisted in on itself, much like a snake, turning, twisting, coiling around and around, willing to snap at any moment. His intake opened but promptly shut as screeching tires filled the ruins. Velocity was the first there, she instantly jumped to her peds and stared at the scene, then Ratchet who stumbled. 

“Rodimus?” The retired CMO gawked, his optics trailing all over Rodimus’ frame, taking in the new and improved. “You’re a ‘con?”

More engines echoed in the distance, to Rodimus’ right 3 other mechs appeared, Megatron, Minimus, and Drift. The taller mechs froze, optics wide, shocked. Drift was the first to react, always the first. “Rodimus?” His voice was weak, broken, like his intake had hardly moved since Rodimus left.

He hated how his spark ached, hearing the broken tone in his friend’s voice. Rodimus ground his ped into his throat, Drift flinched. “What?” He snapped, narrowing his optics, digits twitching. There were too many of them, too much anger, hurt, there was too much disappointment. 

Drift stumbled forward. “Rodimus, what?” He laughed, it was dry and hurt to hear. “This isn’t you.” He mumbled, glancing down at the mech under Rodimus. “Rodimus we’ve been looking for you, the crew misses you, Primus I broke down when you left. Please,” He was brave, his servo rested on Rodimus’. “Rodimus, come home.” His optics watered and started to fill with washer fluid, he smiled, grabbing the back of Rodimus’ helm and pressing their helms together. “I miss you so much, Rodimus the Lost Light isn’t home without you.”

He pressed down on the throat even more, fighting back that horrible feeling at the bottom of his spark. Feeling the burn around him, the captain gawked and gasped, but Rodimus was faster. The blade sliced through Drift effortlessly, right under his spark chamber, a warning, something Deadlock understood. Drift stumbled back, clutching the newly formed wound. A twin pain sprang in Rodimus’ chassis.

“Drift!” Ratchet shouted

Rodimus watched as his friend fell back, then the world spun around him as his frame was thrown. He jumped to his peds and spun to face none other than Megatron. He grinned. “Megatron the Autobot, that’s a good joke.” Rodimus chuckled, licking up the energon from his leaking lip. “What were you trying to accomplish?” 

Megatron glared back at him. “Rodimus that’s enough.” His servos tightened.

Rodimus snorted, exchanging his blade for a blaster. “Hardly,” He was always faster, he glided past Megatron, slamming his ped into Megatron’s knee, then spinning around and round house kicking the mech in the helm. Megatron hissed, he hasn’t been in battle for ages, funny that he once lead the most feared army in the universe. 

Megatron sat up, scowling but stopped when Rodimus pried off the badge. “Give it back.”

He rolled his optics. “I don’t get it, you believed that you could wear this, of all the mechs, you?” He shook his helm. “Best joke there is out there. Then again I believed in it once before, you didn’t deserve to wear this, and neither did I.” His digits played with the metal, heating up slowly, metaling it, molting it until it turned to liquid and dripped down his frame.

“Lord Rodimus.”

He turned, eyeing the massive purple frame of Tarn, his team was in place, all he had to do was snap his digits and watch as the crew was murdered. Then again that was too easy, no he wanted them to feel what he felt, lost, hopeless, alone. Discarded. 

“Orders, my lord?” Tarn rumbled standing next to him. “We could end this now.”

Rodimus held up his servo. “We could, but this isn’t the whole crew.”

“What do you suggest?” 

“One by one, let them come, the crew will look for them-”

“No.” It was weak, pitiful, hardly a word, a whimper in the darkness. Rodimus turned to the downed captain, the replacement, his spark boiled. Somehow the mech turned to face Rodimus. “Lord Rodimus, face it, you hate me the most, who wouldn’t want ‘The Greatest Autobot of all Time’ as a prisoner?” He smirked, energon leaking out of his intake.

There he was again, being honorable, stupid. “Why, you’ll die like the rest of them.”

“What, don’t want to savor this one? Then again you never saw the whole picture. No wonder you’re- excuse me, were a useless prime.” He laughed.

Rodimus burned, it would be so easy to shoot his helm off now, but he was right, Rodimus wanted to see him suffer. See the great Thunderclash so broken, shattered and fragmented, nothing but remains of the mech he used to be. “Fine, but once you die your crew is next.”

“Well good luck with that, maybe you’ll be a better aim.” he smirked, energon spilling out of his intake.