#Lord Commander Primus | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

in1-nutshell · 6 months

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How would the tfp cons react to finding a pod fill with small and squishy sparklings (I headcannon sparkling looking like mashbellows blobs untold they grow giant size)

Love the concept of little bean sparklings!

Hope you enjoy the Cons reactions to the little beans.

TFP Cons reacting to finding a bunch of sparklings in a pod

For the sake of the story, the pod full of the beans conveniently landed on the Nemisis flight deck one night. A couple Vechicons had retrieved the pod at the orders of Megatron. He is fully expecting a magical relic of the past or some more Dark Energon… not a bunch of sparklings inside the pod.

Megatron

Oh, this is not what he is expecting… not at all.

“What in the Pit is this?!”--Megatron

“Those are sparklings my liege.”Starscream

“I know what they are!”—Megatron

His honest reaction would greatly depend whether or not he is on that space coke, I mean Dark Energon.

If he was on Dark Energon, the chances of all the sparklings surviving their first night would be slim to none. Not caring if they even survived. The only chance the sparklings would have of surviving is if the grace of one of the higher officials decided to keep them. Sadly, few would truly be up to the challenge.

If he isn’t on Dark energon, then he would be a bit concerned in why the sparklings are in the pod. But it is war after all and sadly this isn’t too out of the ordinary.

He would assign different Vehicon’s to different beans and have them all sent to Knockout and Breakdown for a checkup. He might think at first that this could be a waste of resources. But after a few days of seeing his troops with the sparklings, Megatron sees a boost in morality and a strange sense of hope in the ship. Hope that caused the movement in the first place. Hope that didn’t seem to come by so often on the ship.

He has ‘stolen’ a bean from time to time. Not even the Mighty Megatron can bend to the power of The Bean Eyes.

“Lord Megatron! I’ve been looking—what are you...?”--Starscream

Megatron mid cooing at a laughing bean.

“… You saw nothing Starscream.”--Megatron

“Understandable my liege. I will be taking my leave.”-- Starscream

Starscream

He is concerned about the sparklings, not that he shows it outwards though. Starscream had plans before the sparklings came along. He was on his way to try and overthrow Megatron and now he must do sparkling duties. The universe must be playing some cosmic joke on him.

“Pitiful thing. You probably don’t even know the first thing about being a Decepticon.”--Starscream

Giggling bean noises

“…Well, I suppose I could teach you. Yes, then you will pledge your loyalty to me!”--Starscream

“Starscream who are you talking to?”--Knockout

“None of your business Knockout!”—Starscream

As Second in Command he helps oversee the sparklings needs overall. As in the statis of their health, possible predictions for vehicle mode, who is their favorite Decepticon on aboard the Nemesis...

Like Megatron, Starscream has taken a habit of ‘stealing’ a Sparkling or two. Except when he has the beans, he tries to instill some sort of loyalty in preparation for his reign as Leader of the Decepticons. Which doesn’t seem to work well on Starscream’s part.

“Now repeat after me. Hail Lord Starscream.”--Starscream

Laughing Bean noises.

“Wow not even they take you seriously.”—Knockout

Soundwave

*Adoption papers processing*

While he also oversees the sparklings as Third in Command, Soundwave knows how to take care of others. He has been known for stealing the most sparklings out of the entire Nemesis.

“Soundwave do you have the reports taken—”--Megatron

Soundwave carrying five beans in his tentacles and two in each servo.

“…”--Soundwave

“… I’ll come back later then. Carry on.”—Megatron

He often plays funny little noises to make the beans laugh. Most likely the first on board to get attached to them. When he misses some of the beans, he will deploy Lazerbeak to go see if they are okay in their caregivers’ arms. Primus help the poor soul who decides to be mean or hurt the Sparkling. That is a one-way ticket to the moon.

“Soundwave! Respond! As Second in Command of the Decepticon army I order you—”

Recorded giggles plays

“… I give up.”--Starscream

Knockout and Breakdown

Oh… oh…

Why? Out of all the places on this planet, did that pod have to land on the Nemesis?! The ship isn’t exactly known for being a welcoming place, much less for sparklings. It’s not that the pair hate the sparklings, on the contrary.

The love seeing a bit of Cybertron untainted by the war. But now they have come into the war whether they liked to or not. Knock out while prides his finish, will put it aside while dealing with the multitude of messy sparklings.

“Hey no! Put that down! No! No! How did you even get up there!?”—Knockout

“Lighten up a bit Knockout. They’re just fine.”--Breakdown

“…There’s one about to fall off your servo.”--Knockout

“Ah!”--Breakdown

Breakdown has no problem getting dirty for the sparklings, hut is extremely anxious around them. He could accidentally crush them! He really doesn’t want that.

They don’t part take in the ‘stealing’ of sparklings, as they regularly come and go in the medbay. The pair both genuinely care for the sparklings and are a bit protective, especially if they come in hurt.

“Oh, Primus what happened to them?!”--Knockout

“I don’t know. I accidentally bumped into them—”--Starscream

“You bumped into them!”—Breakdown

Dreadwing

Oh, he loves these beans.

He is one of the few Decepticons with some kindness left and is not going to let bots like Starscream take advantage of them.

“I will be taking them today.”--Dreadwing

“It is my shift to look after—”--Starscream

“Consider this me taking your shift then Starscream.”—Dreadwing

He loves his time with the sparklings. He does a descent job in taking care of them. Makes sure all under his care are well and takes regular trips to the Medbay if something doesn’t seem right.

Besides Soundwave, probably the second in the ‘stealing’ sport. He tells stories to the little ones of life before the war and how the war would be over soon so they could all go home together.

“We are missing 5 of them.”--Breakdown

“Have you checked with Dreadwing.”--Knockout

“Not yet.”--Breakdown

“He probably has the rest.”—Knockout

Shockwave

He doesn’t do much with the beans.

Probably didn’t even know they were around until Soundwave came to the lab with some in his servos.

“…”--Soundwave

“… Explanation.”—Shockwave

Won’t interact with the sparklings much, not even if he has duty with them. Shockwave most likely built a crib to contain the little beans.

Does not partake in the ‘stealing’ of the sparklings.

It is illogical.

Predaking

What is this bean? Why is it so small?

He is confused at first seeing the sparklings, but once educated about the basics, he is ready. Does not matter if he is in his bi-pede mode or not, he is making sure all these beans are protected with his huge limbs.

Does not let them anywhere near Starscream.

“I order you to hand over the Sparklings beast!”--Starscream

“Did you hear something my tiny warrior? It sounded like a little pest.”--Predaking

“How. Dare—”--Starscream

Starscream is now shrieking trying to avoid the flames of Predaking.

He also plays and ‘steals’ them away. He is close ranking to Dreadwing on how often they get stolen.

“We are missing 7 of them!”--Dreadwing

“Where could they—”--Knockout

“Found them.”--Breakdown

Predaking napping in his dragon form cuddling a bunch of beans.

Soundwave snaps a picture that no one knows about.

Arachnid

Okay even if Megatron was on Dark energon, there is no way this Spider is going anywhere near the sparklings.

Point blank. She will not go anywhere near them.

#transformers x reader #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp megatron #tfp starscream #tfp soundwave #tfp knockout #tfp breakdown #tfp dreadwing #tfp shockwave #tfp predaking #tfp arachnid #maccadam

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onlyyvette · 1 month

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TF Titty Headcanons Pt. 2

❏* — warnings — sub/bottom characters(decepticons) + dom/top reader + robotitties + lactation + praise + boobjobs + masochism + piercings + Starscream is a narcissist + size kink + mommy kink + breeding kink + Megatron definitely rewards his top soldiers with his body + in this world you're either a creamer or squirter +

❏* — a/n — pt 1 got so much positive feedback so I'm just happy that I was able to do a part 2!! And if I do a part 3 I'll most likely do the autoboobies again

also omfg I wrote

➾ DECEPTICONS

✦ Megatron - Contrary to popular belief, Megs has average sized boobs for a mech his size, but they still seem pretty damn huge to most since not many mechs are his size. That is until you compare them to another mech's like Optimus (say whatever you want but Optimus outboobs Megatron). Megs doesn't care too much about his tits, seeing them as just protoform sitting on his chassis, but he does like to have them played with once in a while. Megatron only interfaces with his top soldiers, and even only the best of the best get to see their lord's magnificent rack. When he does 'face with them, he always orders them to treat him like any other mech they would fuck, the feeling of being treated like a fling always getting to his head. Despite how meaningless his refineries are to him, his partners see them as an absolute blessing. The lucky shmuck who's not only able to be graced with the sight of Megs' boobs and also being able to feel them up will never forget it. His tits have a subtle softness to them that's fucking amazing, perfect for shoving their helm into. Megatron is surprising pretty vocal, letting out gruff moans whenever his tits are fondled with. And every single time, without fail, his crimson optics will be locked onto his partner's as if he were teasing them. Something the Megs is very willing to do is give boobjobs to his decepticons that are doing an exceptionally good job at taking down any autobot forces. He'll reward them by lifting his tits up and down the mech's shaft, keeping eye contact as his optics are blazing with unspent charge. And if Primus themself has blessed a mech, they'll be treated to Megatron lavishly sprawled across a wide berth, clutching the sheets as a spike ruts into him, striking as many nodes as possible with greedy servos all over his tits, feeling them as much as they can. Megatron's optics dim as he shivers from the pleasure of having his subordinate treat him as just some random fling. His vocalizer releases moans becoming slightly higher pitched the more his nozzles are twisted and pulled on and he just can't wait to do this again.

✦ Soundwave - With the decepticon third-in-command may be hiding many secrets about himself, his tits are most definitely one of those secrets. Soundwave's tits are big and busty, a more gray color. He's one of the few mechs who actually lactate, and when he does, it's usually not too much energon but it can leave his tits feeling very sensitive. He's usually able to deal with it himself, but when it gets too much those are the times he'll seek out partners the most. Everyone who's slept with Soundwave have the same exact thoughts. He has the best tits they've ever come across. Soundwave doesn't think too much of his boobs, yet whenever people get to feel them up and lap up any energon leaking, they'll never want to go back to drinking energon normally again. Mechs who get to feed off of Soundwave's leaking titties always grope them slowly with their servos, massaging them nicely as they coax more energon out. Usually, Soundwave turn his vocalizer off since he isn't too fond of making noise from pleasure, but it's so obvious how good he's feeling when his whole entire frame is trembling and the way he tries to sneakily press his digits into his leaking valve. Whenever Soundwave begins to lactate and has a mech sucking on his nozzle, he can't help but feel something maternal in his code to get sparked up by anyone suitable, to have transfluid pumping into his forge, to carry sparklings that'll one day need to feed from him too. When he gets like this, he becomes more shameless when interfacing, doing everything in his power to get the mech pumping their spike into him to pump in a heavy load of transfluid too. He'll do everything he needs to do, whether it be tightening his valve callipers, rocking his hips back into thrusts more, or pushing his tits further into his partner's faceplate. As long as it'll result in transfluid spills into his forge he'll be happy. And he won't be satiated with just one overload. Even when his partner needs a break from fucking, he'll just find himself on top of them, working his servo up and down their shaft before it retracts as he strakes them back to full pressurization, just before sinking back down on it all over again.

✦ Starscream - Starscream has slightly smaller than average titties, but in his opinion, it's the shape that matters, and not the size. He's very right about that when it comes to his tits. His tits are a dark grey that match his face and are perky with a surprising amount of bounce to them. As the #1 narcissist of all Cybertronians, Screamer absolutely prizes his boobs. While he might start angrily huffing when his tits are fondled by his partners, it's all a farce. He's an absolute slut for having his boobs played with. Whenever he's self servicing, while his digits are busy circling his node, his other servo is gliding over his cockpit, sliding upwards until he feels soft and sensitive protoform. He lets out soft pants, his plump lips falling open as his optics narrow to slits-- he would never get tired of it. Whenever Screamer's partners want to touch his tits, he always snaps at them, saying some shit about they're too perfect for them to dirty with their servos, yet he can feel his valve throb at the thought. The only times Screamer doesn't allow his partner to touch his tits is when they're his size, but he might let them if they grovel. But when it's a mech much bigger than him? It's a whole other story. He would die before saying out loud but he's addicted to having big, warm servos on his tits, dwarfing them as they manhandle them with ease, pinching his nozzles with flat digits pads or just giving them a nice, long squeeze that'll have him struggling to not moan like a pleasurebot. With his larger partners, without them even needing to ask, he's already in their lap, legs wrapped around their waist as his chassis transforms away and reveals his rack. He arches his back so that his tits are pressed onto his partner's frame and looks at them with a knowing smirk-- he knows they won't be able to resist. It always ends with him letting out shrill cries of pleasure, truly living up to his name as his his valve is drilled into and his tits are thoroughly abused.

✦ Skywarp - As the resident Nemesis Fragbuddy™️, it's no surprise that Warp has bigger than average tits. His tits are light gray and have big, perky nozzles that are always begging to be pulled on. He owns crystal and metal pink barbell nozzle piercings that are (unsurprisingly) always seen gleaming on his nozzles. Skywarp's an absolute masochist, loving the feeling of his tits being roughly fondled or bitten down so hard he leaks energon. Warp fucks his way around on the Nemesis looking for not only the best mech to fuck him but also someone with hands big and skilled enough mess with his tits the way he likes it. He isn't really a big fan of having his boobs softly caressed and massaged-- he need them to be -- he wants his tits to be absolutely bruised, aching and possibly even bleeding when his partner is done. It's the only way to get off by playing with his tits. Since Warp has slept with a lot of the decepticon crew and is a kinky fucker, he's definitely had some interesting things done to his boobs. He's had people bring magnets close to his nozzle piercings, forcing his piercings to follow and tug on his nozzles until he's squealing. Skywarp's given plenty of boobjobs too, sandwiching a spike between his pillowy tits as he rubs them up and down his partner's shaft and if he's lucky to have a partner bigger than him, their spike will reach past his cleavage and find its way into his already drooling intake. His favorite thing ever is to have his tits roughed up while someone's banging up his valve. Just having a nice, thick spike plowing him is more than enough to get him off, but having a mech bite down on his nozzles, pulling on the piercing as the other hand mercilessly gropes his soft mesh? He'll for sure be an incoherent mess, optics rolling back as he's giggling stupidly from the pleasure wracking his frame.

✦ Thundercracker - Despite this seeker's standoffish, slightly prudish behavior when it comes to the discussion of interfacing, and his truly romantic personality, he has a huge rack hiding behind his armor. Out of all of his trine, Thundercracker's boobs are the biggest, bounciest, and the most attractive. Screamer and Skywarp are so totally jealous of him but truth be told, TC would definitely trade his with theirs anytime. He found it a nuisance to have such soft protometal sitting on his chest and the sensitivity that comes with it. They're just so soft and flimsy, making it so much easier to grope them with wandering servos and watch as the sensitive protometal nearly spills out between digit gaps. And it's exactly what other mechs think of them. Thundercracker hates to admit it, but would die to have someone worship his tits, pinch his nozzles and bring one into their intake, murmuring on the soft mesh about how fucking perfect his boobs are. TC's face would be so flushed, coolant dripping down his faceplate while he tries to keep his cute moans from escaping his vocalizer. The sweet praises would go to his head and He 100% will melt into the touch of his partner if they did that, maybe even hook a leg around their waist and beg for them to fuck him already before he's overloading already, creaming around nothing while his needy valve clenches pathetically on a spike that isn't there.

#vetty's works. ✿#vetty's thirsts. ✿#dom reader #top reader #transformers #transformers x reader #valveplug #megatron #megatron x reader #soundwave #soundwave x reader #starscream #starscream x reader #skywarp #thundercracker #thundercracker x reader #maccadam

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orion-nottson · 9 months

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devil’s in the details | tfp!megatron x reader

A/N: i have tfp megatron brain rot. like i know he’s cray cray and deluded, but literally so am i we’re made for each other he’s mine

also this obvi deviates from canon, bc there is no way on god’s green earth that dreadwing and starscream could coexist semi-peacefully.

also, please be warned that i haven’t written transformers fanfic since i was like 14 💀💀 fought for my LIFE with the terminology (had to check my old WATTPAD stories to find some vocab 💀)

summary: lord megatron propositions you. it’s a rather bold request.

content: SMUT, 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, femme!cybertronian!reader, seeker!reader, sticky sexual interfacing, breeding kink, wee lil bit of choking, technically boss/employee relationship, power dynamic (it gets semi-resolved), implied past relationship/thought unrequited love, average decepticon emotional constipation, business arrangement procreation

word count: 6,367

~ * ~ * ~

The Decepticon warship lingers somewhere over the southern pole of Earth, resulting in a dramatic decrease in temperature, even with the efficiency of Cybertronian technology. You shift your wings for the umpteenth time, armor plates releasing air to alleviate the discomforting chill that’s started to bother you. Of course, it was far from being so cold that you needed to worry about your core temperature, but you are a Seeker from Vos, and Vos was always warm.

The thought makes your wings tremble again, so you hurry yourself to your quarters with a bit more haste.

It wouldn’t suddenly be warm and tropical, but at least you’d be able to curl up and shiver in privacy. Recharge sounds particularly nice too, considering you’ve been up for several cycles trying to appease Lord Megatron’s endless demands. Inwardly, you roll your optics— There seems to be nothing you can do that would satisfy him.

The corridor finally breaks into the wing that houses Decepticon high command, where yours and your fellow officers reside. Your room is down almost the entire expanse of the hall, the turn right before where Megatron’s personal habsuite lies. From where you’re walking, you can spot the sleek, black metal door. A chill runs up your back struts, and your processor convinces you it’s from the icy cold that’s overtaken the Nemesis.

“Curse this inhospitable, organic planet.” Muttering to yourself dissuades you from also blaming your Master, who was no help either, if you were to be honest. He could shove his “not wanting to expend precious Energon on unnecessary heating” decree up his tail pipe.

You resign yourself to some rather cold nights for the foreseeable future. Perhaps... If you played your cards right, as the humans say, you could convince Soundwave to pilot the ship north. Maybe somewhere near Hawaii...

A sharp, gravelly voice from behind you calls your name, and you spin around to see your Lord and Master a ways down the corridor from you. Immediately bringing yourself to attention, you straighten your back struts and bow politely.

“My liege.” You say, thanking Primus you’ve become so accustomed to Megatron’s thunderous shouts that you no longer jump, let alone flinch, when they occur. The silver mech strides up to you easily, displaying all the strength of a warrior in the confidence of his steps.

“Retiring to your quarters?” He asks austerely, as if he’s ever concerned himself with your whereabouts, let alone personal routine. Unease creeps up on you, so you shift on the thrusters of your peds and cross your servos over your chassis. Wings fluttering, you reply slowly, “Well, yes.”

“Allow me to accompany you there.” The silver mech says brightly, and it’s such an absurdly peculiar request for both the mech saying it and the situation at hand. You instinctively snort a laugh.

“I do believe I know the way to my own habsuite, my Lord.” You say before you can stop the words from coming out, and immediately regret them once they do. You meet Megatron’s hard stare sheepishly, wings dropping timorously. Forgetting your place in the grand scheme of things is not wise amongst the Decepticon ranks.

To your utter shock, you’re not met with a vicious reprimand and instead Megatron grins— this wickedly suave thing— and purrs, “Humor me.”

And all you can say is, “Of course.”

Megatron hums appreciatively, brushing past you as he takes the lead, like he always does. You step in time behind him, nearly colliding into his back struts when he suddenly halts, and you stumble backwards a few steps. The looming mech pivots, glancing down at you with a quizzical expression in his glowing optics.

“Seekers are a rare breed, yes?” Lord Megatron asks, and whatever game he’s begun to play with you genuinely stumps any reasoning you attempt. Opening your mouth, your optics dart over his face, trying to decode whatever message your Master is sending and coming up empty.

“Er... Yes, my liege? Even before the war, Vos was not a populous city-state. There are probably... even less now.” You reply cautiously, becoming very put off as Megatron takes a step towards you. He looks as impassive as ever, though you’re beginning to see a very curious appraising expression overtaking his faceplates. It begins with the upcurve of his mouth, derma pulled into the most wolfish grin you’ve ever seen on the mech.

Utterly bizarre. Your processors want to reset because this Megatron is starting to look like the studly gladiator of Kaon you’d hear be lasciviously giggled about, not the ruthless, merciless tyrant he’s supposed to be.

“I have a rather... avant-garde proposition for you, my most loyal Seeker.” Megatron purrs, his servos clasped easily behind him as you’ve seen him too many times before, often when he schemes. He’s also talking to you as if this is casual, expected business of him; matter-of-fact and cordial, with his usual cool drawl.

Before you can reply, Megatron turns sharply once more and begins walking down the corridor, stopping after a few steps when he realizes you hadn’t started with him. He turns his helm to look back at you, this time there’s this strangely unreadable expression on his faceplates.

“Follow me.” He says simply, and without a second thought, you do.

Even though you’re a Seeker with naturally long legs, his pedsteps are even longer strides, so you have to exert some effort in keeping up with Megatron. It adds to the growing franticness that’s begun to bubble up inside your chassis.

While not exactly fear, though that’s certainly part of it, you’ve been a Decepticon and aboard the Nemesis under Megatron’s direct command long enough to know that when he becomes cryptic, it means trouble. Or at least a command that you’d rather not be the one to deal with. Bluntly asking what the frag he’s on about wouldn’t be the best course of action, but you know that he likes you enough not to offline you immediately if you did.

So you do.

“My Lord, what exactly are you asking of me?” You inquire, noting with slight abject horror as Megatron approaches the door to your quarters and types in your lock code with ease. Of course, he is the leader after all. Instead of answering your question, he makes you feel even more uneasy by throwing you a mysteriously sultry look and quipping, “Let me have you if only for a breem. Or longer should I entertain you.”

You catch the flash of his ruby optics, their intentions indiscernible, and then he disappears into your habsuite like it’s his own.

There’s something to it, an itch of a thought that’s begun to decipher the puzzle and put together the pieces. Lately, Megatron has been far more... involved with you, more eager at your presence, and it was blatantly obvious that he grew quite miffed when others got too close. It was no secret to anyone— From Soundwave and Starscream to a lowly technician— that Megatron had an optic for you (many did, frankly) and thus he was quite possessive of your wiles and charms as well.

This line of thought leads you to step into your room, slowly and evenly as if it’s unmarked territory and not the quarters that were assigned to you millennia ago.

“Lord Megatron...” You trail off, catching his stare just as he sets your old null ray back on your weapons rack, where most of your old, dismantled, and prized tools are located. Your null ray had been a favorite, until some blasted Autobot blew out the important bits that kept it working. That had stung, and even eons later you still curse that specific Autobot to the Pits.

Megatron flexes his claws, and with a flourish he clasps his servos behind him once again. His red optics scan the entirety of your quarters, lingering on your berth until they come back to rest on you. His gaze is equal parts unnerving and fascinating, as if he’s deconstructing you armor by armor, stripping you down until he’s watched your spark pulse.

His optics, like twin red suns, center you at their universes, and you feel oddly... flattered at their amorous disposition.

“It is no secret that I have watched you for some time.” Megatron starts, tilting his helm as he becomes pensive. You nod dumbly, hardly processing a word he’s saying. Megatron takes a single step towards you, looming like a shadow. In the dim lighting of your room, his silver armor catches all the chiaroscuro, his violet accents hued to black. Only his glowing, fiery optics remain bright. He continues.

“I admit,—” Megatron drawls your name deliciously, “— That I have found myself... captivated by your beauty. Entranced by your prowess, both in battle and mind.”

“I...” Your vents hitch, wings shivering at the praise. Blinking rapidly to ensure this isn’t some monumentally vivid dream, you clear your intake and say, “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, my Lord.”

Megatron laughs, that slight chuckle that sounds halfway between his engines roaring and something genuine that comes from the spark. The silver mech’s rolls his shoulders, armor hissing as it releases air. Wildly, he confesses something you never would have expected from him, “I believe myself bewitched.”

His servos have clasped themselves into fists at his sides, and briefly you wonder if he’s angry with you, then his entire frame relaxes like he’s decompressing after a long spar with Dreadwing.

“Tell me, my little Seeker, why have you denied yourself of me for so long?” Megatron asks it like a tease, like he’s some boon to be revered or a sacred sword to be wielded. Heat rises beneath your armor plating, and your processors race kilometers a nanosecond to find a suitable answer. Or at least one that doesn’t make you sound like some lovesick femmeling.

You couldn’t lie and say you had no... feelings for your Master, who was as handsome and dark as he was powerful and cunning. Megatron was once a gladiator of Kaon, and gladiators on Cybertron were what you had often admired, marveling at their strength, drive, and raw spark. Megatron had been no different, though you also found his commanding presence and impressive intellect to be even more attractive.

That was really why you’d joined the Decepticon cause all those millennia ago; Drawn to your Master’s fight to bring equality to the rigid castes and to seize control of the Energon supply to better disperse it by his charismatic allure.

And somehow, Megatron knew all of this.

“It would have been insubordination if I acted upon my... desires.” You reply, crossing your arms over your ample chassis with a shrug. Megatron matches your collected temperament with a hum, staring down at you with unreadable red optics.

“Indeed. Though I wish you’d had disobeyed, my little Seeker.” Megatron purrs, taking a step towards you that closes the space between your frames and boxes you in. His EM field magnifies the atmosphere around you, tingling at the periphery of yours.

“M-My liege?” You gape, faceplates feeling hot as metal left in direct sunlight. He chuckles, and sinfully the tip of his glossa runs over his pointed denta. Your spark skips a beat, owlishly watching

“If I had known sooner that you wanted me as direly as I did you, then this song and dance would have concluded vorns ago.” Megatron growls, optics flashing with not anger, but lust. He takes another step, and you’re speechless.

“That being said, I am patient. I have no qualms with how long we have waited, nor will I if you choose to wait longer.” One of the tyrant’s long, clawed digits clicks at the bottom of your chin, tilting your face upwards. His touch is delicate, like you’d break if he pushed too hard. Honestly, you probably would if he did. Part of you wants to see him try.

“What did you want to ask of me?” You whisper, optics fluttering until they stay half-lidded and dewy under the carnal scrutiny of your Lord. Megatron grins, a sliver of sharp denta flashing in the lowlights of your habsuite. He takes a final step towards you, a half-shuffle that does well to close the gap between your frames, the air warming from the work of your combined engines. You hope he feels the way your spark races, hope he feels the heat emanating from your core.

“Give me an heir, carry a sparkling of my code and stand beside me as my queen.” With each word, laden with desire until it shows in his optics that drip with lust, Megatron has you against the wall of your habsuite, one servo tracing the sleek edge of your wing.

It’s entirely intoxicating, and against your better judgment and all remaining reason— and mostly because you haven’t had a good, hard frag in ages— you moan.

It’s a soft, angelic sound that barely catches on the audials, but it makes Megatron grin like a shark. You gasp, affronted, optics flickering, “My liege!”

“Have I offended you?” He breathes, and suddenly his mouth is against your neck cables, each word leaving the softest of kisses on your Energon lines. Your resolve nearly crumbles entirely, each brush of his dermas like a shot of high grade to the systems. You sigh, vents hissing, and place one servo on his chassis. Beneath the broad expanse of silver armor, his engines rumble like thunder on the horizon. It makes you pulse with need.

“No.” You whisper, wanting to sing as Megatron kisses the slope of your jaw, then pecks the side of your mouth, agape with shock. He pulls back, the heat of him evaporating as soon as he’s once again standing at his full height. You tremble, not from the cold, but from his absence.

It’s not something you’d ever given much thought about, your feelings towards your Lord and Master, but it’s something that’s come rushing back. All the suppressed thoughts, the dashed dreams, the impossible futures... They come back to you and leave you weak in the knee joints, cooling fans whirring from the memories of the fantasies you’d entertained when you’d had long midnights alone.

“What say you then?” Megatron’s stare is hard, unshaking and fully serious. He wants to have a sparkling with you, wants you to bear him an heir— He wants you as his queen and equal, to stand beside him and lead the Decepticon cause. The expression on his face is a cross between a wild animal, wanting to ravage you the nanosecond you say Yes, and the warlord with enough resolve and self-restraint to accept if you say No.

It’s all so much at once. Eons of time made up in just a single question. Details and technicalities will have to be conferred over later, as for now you’re content with the conditions as-is.

“Well... You are a handsome mech, my liege.” You reply, teasing him by placing a chaste kiss directly on the Decepticon insignia on his chassis. He doesn’t say anything, only his engine rumbles more audibly. You look up at him and salaciously imply with a coy smirk, “I do believe we’d make a fine clutch of sparklings.”

And then you find yourself swept up into his arms, back struts and wings pressed against the wall, your Lord’s hips slotted perfectly against yours. The more base urges inside you squeal, your Seeker coding nearly overtaking you and having you present to him like a turbofox in heat.

Not one to be outdone, Megatron quips, “And you are quite the striking femme— Shall I ravage you against the wall or your berth?”

You laugh, cut off only when Megatron captures your dermas in his, drowning you in the roughness of a mech starved of Energon. He kisses like he owns the practice and has made it an artform; Dragging your dermas with his, glossa invading your mouth, denta nipping dangerously close to sensitive nodes and wiring. You moan and gasp, coming to the realization that one of your servos grips his wrist and the other is flat against his chassis.

You shutter your optics, reveling in Megatron’s power and dominance, wanting so desperately for him to devour you. The warmth blossoms, spreading throughout your core until you feel charges pulse at your interface panels that have you whimpering.

After what feels like vorns, Megatron parts and your dermas unlock with a metallic pop. Megatron’s mouth ghosts over yours, and he hums as he repeats himself, “Berth or wall, little Seeker?”

“The berth, my liege.” You urge breathlessly, a delighted sound escaping you as Megatron heaves you from the wall and carries you to your desired destination. He isn’t gentle when he deposits you on your berth, doesn’t mind the wings, so you hiss when your back struts connect with the metal beneath you. Megatron manages to keep himself between the smooth metal of your thighs as he hitches one knee up onto the berth.

“I wonder,” Megatron stops to kiss you deeply once more, making your processors spin, “If this is an auspicious position for conception.”

A bite to the dermas stifles your wanton moan. Your Lord may not be fully aware of it yet, but each mention of being sparked, of bearing his heirs, has your more base urges spiraling out of control. While Vos was not populated by many Seekers, the need to breed is more hardwired into the programming than most other frame types. His words act like fuel to the fire.

“O-Oh— I can only hope.” You gasp, your whimpering cries smothered by Megatron’s dermas in yet another bruising, brusque kiss. This time, he lingers, slows down as if he savors the taste of you on his glossa. Your servos grip his shoulders, smoothing along his breadth before your pointed digits grip at the armor panels high on his back. Megatron responds most enjoyably, using one servo to anchor himself above you and the other to caress down your body.

His servo travels from the curve of your waist, talons scratching at your paint, down to the slope of your hip where it rests heavy and warm on the junction of your thigh. He teases the sharp point of his thumb digit on the transformation seam nearest your interface panels, causing you to arch your back struts like a cat. Megatron uses this opportunity to settle a servo on the low of your back struts, where he pinches at the sensitive nodes at the bases of your wings. That makes you cry out, your cooling fans whirring loudly as a charge builds up deep inside you.

You’ve never been this close to an overload so quickly before, though you’ve had many sleepless nights built up to bring you to this moment. And Megatron proves his expertise in the berth, past rumors and gossip proven to hold more truth than you once thought.

Your entire frame feels electrified, your lower body feels like it’s on fire, the heat centered gloriously on your interfacing parts. Particularly your valve and anterior node, which feel wet and pulse beneath the panel with each of your sparkbeats.

“You react so gratifyingly.” Megatron purrs, his gravelly drawl like fine high grade on the audials, uncharacteristically sweet and sensual. He glances down at your interface panels, where your glowing transfluid is beginning to seep out along the seams. With a devious grin, Megatron meets your gaze just as he presses his thumb digit to your overheated panel.

“Megatron!” You cry his name, forsaking honorifics, and nearly overloading on the spot. Almost unconsciously, you send a command and your valve panel slides open, revealing your weeping slit and throbbing anterior node. You cry out again when Megatron wastes no time and starts tight, small circles on the sensitive bundle of mesh wire and circuitry.

“Beautiful.” He hums, quickening his pace on your anterior node as he notices sparks fly as your charge builds. You grip his back, claws digging at his silver armor and leaving scratches in his already worn paint. Megatron leans in, steals your dermas in a kiss, keeps circling your wet node, and just as you see warnings for an imminent overload— He stops.

The charge doesn’t die, but it decreases to a staticky tingle, and you part from the kiss, scandalized that he’s prevented your overload. You gape at Megatron, giving him a glare that could rival the World Destroyer’s himself. He only offers you a sly look.

“My liege.” This time you growl the title past grit denta, bucking your hips against your Master’s still servo. He hums, your anger meaning nothing to him, though indulging you by brushing two digits along the transfluid-soaked mesh of your valve. You gasp, optics blowing wide as he pushes them in, mindful of his sharp claws, stretching you wonderfully.

There’s a slight burn at first, pain sensors sending alerts, alleviated as your frame adjusts to accommodate his thick talons. Megatron eases his digits back until they are almost out completely, then sinks them back in. Your knees come up, peds shaking as you hook them behind his back struts.

“Patience, my dear,” Megatron kisses your neck cables, “Is a virtue.”

And like he had your anterior node, he works your valve slowly, steadily building the charge that buzzes all the pleasure centers in your frame. Warnings for an overload screen your vision again, this time your optics flicker as it grows closer. Staccato vents escape your intake, fans skipping cycles and hitching, encouraging Megatron to go faster, digits plunging in and out of your valve with sopping, moist noises. The room smells like interface; the tinny tang of transfluid, the almost-burnt smell of metal-on-metal friction.

You moan, this time a long keen that crackles in your audials, and Megatron responds with the first pleasured sound you’ve heard from him: A low, throaty groan that he practically strangles in his intake like he doesn’t want it to escape.

“M-My liege, plea-please.” You whine, writhing, bucking your hips even as Megatron’s servo relinquishes your wings in order to still them. You sob, systems on the fritz as the charge crackles, your overload closing in due to Megatron’s working servo and digits. He laughs again, the breathy one that you adore, and surprisingly heeds your plea.

“I want you like this when you take my spike.” Megatron hisses, doubling his pace and making you scream. The wet squelch of your mesh grows louder, and with each thrust of his servo, his knuckle joint brushes your throbbing anterior node, whiting out your optics.

“I want you disheveled.” The tyrant presses close to you, tightening the cyclic thrusts of his digits, biting at the base of your neck cables. Your helm lolls to the side, voice crackling in constant whines as you squeeze your optics shut. He growls, sharp denta piercing an Energon line close to your shoulder armor, the pain mixing with pleasure and having you singing.

“I want you desperate.” Megatron snarls like an Earthen beast, the gruffness of his voice matching the hot stretch of your valve. Transfluid soaks the inner seams and mechanisms of your thighs, spilling onto your berth below. Megatron drags his dermas to yours, his glossa hot and heady as he shoves it in your mouth and dominates the kiss. You moan against him, gripping him tight and hearing the sound of metal screech as its torn.

The silver mech groans, low and rough, breaking the kiss and allowing his helm to fall besides yours. To the cables and wires of your neck, he leaves open-mouth kisses, condensation hot from his vents, then pulls himself up to your audials and whispers harshly:

“I want you as mine.”

The last word is punctuated by a hard push of his digits and his thumb squashing your anterior node, and your overload hits you like a system crash. You wail, wings fluttering and hitting the berth with metallic clangs as your body seizes, the charge overtaking your processors. Pleasure like molten lava consumes your frame, transfluid squirting out onto Megatron’s forearm like paint.

The overload lasts eons, like some supernova of a dying star. Your legs lock, armor plating shivering, wings hitched high and scraping against your berth. Maybe this is what death is, you think illogically, Maybe I’ve joined with the Allspark.

“Beautiful.” Megatron breathes again, his optics glowing in awe, “Positively beautiful.”

It takes a click for your processor to compute what he said, then another for your optics to blink back on. Coolant tears leak out the corners, blurring your vision. Your mouth gapes, dermas damp with condensation, your cooling fans whirring in loud in your audials. The grip you have on Megatron loosens, servos slipping until they fall upon his shoulders.

The charge in your valve mesh and anterior node quivers and bounces, and you realize with a pleasant tremble that Megatron’s digits are still firmly inside you.

“Megatron.” You coo his name, “Megatron.”

He says yours back, like all you’ve done and are doing is exchanging designations in a routine meeting and it reminds you of a time when things were simpler between the two of you. It’s been eons since Megatron’s seen you the way his ruby red optics gaze upon you now, eons more since you’ve felt seen.

War has made you both volatile, too tough and too angry to do anything else but fight, and fight some more. But here, in the privacy of your berth, blanketed by the secrecy of darkness: War can’t touch you. Nothing can.

“How I have yearned for you...” Megatron cups your faceplates, his servo cool against your overheated frame. You smile, still hazy from your overload and the lingering sensation of his other servo very much connected carnally to you, feeling like you’ve overdone yourself on too much high grade.

A switch flips inside you, the one that reminds you’re no fainting femme, but one that asks and will take regardless. You are a Seeker, after all— It’s in your code to want offspring.

“Give me a sparkling, my Lord.” Even though your voice wavers, it still sounds like an immutable command. The contemplative look on Megatron’s face morphs into the devilish one, and he snarls, removing his digits from your core. A thin line of gooey transfluid stretches between you and his servo, until Megatron brings it to his mouth and his glossa licks along the length of his digits. His optics narrow in as he hums.

“You presume you can command me.” And yet he obeys again, his interface panel unlatching with a hiss. His spike emerges, a long, thick one that fills in sections, ribbed along its length. Glowing transfluid oozes in droplets from its tip, rolling down the underside of his spike. Your jaw drops, both in want and slight alarm— Megatron is a large mech, you should have better anticipated a large spike.

“Know this, dearest: I will take you, ruin you, fill you up until my code takes.” Megatron promises, lining his bobbing spike up with your throbbing valve. He then grabs your hips, propping them up for a better angle. You quiver, writhing on your berth and bracing your servos on his forearms. His armor is hot under your touch, and your claws dig into the smooth of his paint. Then you match his stare, licking your dermas.

“Frag me like you mean it.”

Megatron suddenly thrusts his spike into you and you wail, unforgiving of your smaller stature. The delicate mesh and sensitive wires give and mold around the hot rod of his pulsing length, forming a slick suction around your lover. He groans, easing back then thrusting in with earnest. Your thighs tremble as you take him, each rimmed circlet of his spike passing into you, dragging deliciously on your valve’s walls.

It’s a tight fight, even with being loosened by Megatron’s thick digits. The transformation seams on your hips and thighs stretch, soft whirs and clicks as your frame adjusts to take him. He’s the biggest you’ve ever had, and the strongest too. The power in his hips drives you up the berth, and he pulls you back down.

You can’t meet his thrusts, but you try and buck your hips in time with him, erratic at first. Megatron’s servos are locked on you, guiding you when your movements skip or miss. All the pleasure centers in your frame are alight, charges sparking and fritzing along your circuitry. Another overload builds, a hot, deep bubbling in your core.

With each thrust of his spike, your valve squelches, the mesh slick and hot with transfluid. More drips down your legs, your aft, onto the berth, leaving everything tacky. Megatron hits a particularly sensitive node deep inside you, one you didn’t even know was there, and you keen. Coolant tears prick at your vision again, escaping the corners and rolling off your faceplates.

“How badly do you want it?” Megatron seethes, and you could mistake his lust for anger. He seizes your neck cables, dangerous talons threatening Energon lines, as he demands, “How badly do you want me?”

“Desperately.” You wheeze, optics whiting out as Megatron squeezes your neck cables just so as he gives you a series of particularly rough thrusts. Your peds tighten on his back, urging him deeper. Your Master vents, harsh and hot, his engine rumbling loud in his chassis.

“You will look...” Megatron chokes on a groan,”... Excellent with a trine at your hip.”

That makes you whine, Seeker coding squealing and preening at the thought. A trine. Three little sparklings just like their carrier. You’d delight in carrying them in your gestation chamber, wanting to see yourself change and swell to accommodate them.

“I want... I want,” Your voice cuts out, broken by a sob, and you can only manage a tight, “I want that!”

“Good.” Megatron pistons his hips like a jackhammer, his rhythm not breaking once. Powerful thrusts meet the wet heat of your core, the tops of his thigh armor clanking loudly against your legs. The overload warnings start appearing once again. Megatron hisses when your valve tightens around his length, and it prompts him to pick up the pace.

“You are so pretty.” He growls, leaning in to recapture your dermas with his. As he kisses, he doubles his speed and the strength behind it. You moan and sob into his mouth, servos gripping him by the back of the helm. His glossa battles with yours, his sharp denta nicking you more than once. Then he switches to kissing you deeply, soulfully, like he’s found salvation in your dermas.

It’s as you’re so viscerally connected to Megatron that the heat in your core reaches a boiling point, the slow-building electricity coming to its peak. Your valve walls spasm, the giving mesh convulsing in the telltale sign of your overload on the horizon.

Somehow accomplishing it, Megatron kisses you deeper, his faceplates flush and hot against yours. A particularly hard grind of his spike on the sensitive nodes of your valve has you gasping into the silver mech’s mouth. Your optics squeeze shut, you feel like your core is about to explode with heat—

Your second overload hits, just as spectacular and wonderful as the first. Electrified charges bounce between the mesh of your valve and Megatron’s throbbing spike, transfluid soaking him and yourself once again. It’s only after your audials tingle that you realize you’ve screamed loudly enough to reset them. Your systems crash, processors overheated and cooling fans hitching and trembling. With a hiss and a long grunt, Megatron follows you over the edge as well.

Warmth blooms in your core, pleasure nodes and receptors picking up the hot liquid feel of Megatron’s transfluid deep inside you. It comes out in spurts, and he rides his overload by continuing to push into you. As your optics come back online, you catch him hunching over you, ceasing his thrusts in favor of pressing as close as he can, spike still weeping transfluid and coating your inside walls.

Megatron hisses and groans, his frame shivering just once as he finishes, lazily bucking his hips thrice to empty himself completely. He doesn’t disengage his spike, leaving it to soften in your overworked valve. You can’t feel your peds, not after the overload you just experienced, and your entire frame shudders when he nips at your neck cables once again.

For a while, he hovers above you, his EM field embracing your frame. Softly, your servos caress his upper back struts, the tips of your digits dancing along his seams. His servos finally release your hips, revealing he’s left shallow dents in your armor. No matter, you’d wear them proudly.

“Do you have fiber cloths in your refresher?” Megatron asks, breaking the comfortable silence, his vocal processor crackling only slightly. A twitch of the helm is the best “Yes” you can offer, and brutally Megatron parts from you, drawing a soft whimper as his spike and warmth leave you. The thought of sliding your interface panel back on crosses your mind, but your anterior node and valve are still throbbing so tenderly you can’t will yourself to do it.

You hadn’t realized you closed your optics until Megatron’s approaching pedsteps makes you open them again. He stands before your sprawled, ruined frame, a sheer fiber cloth in his servo, reaching to clean you. Silently, he wipes up the glowing transfluid that’s stained your berth, then moves to clean what’s left on your body.

For a long few moments, the sounds of your cooling fans cycling down, wings softly scraping on your berth, and Megatron’s movements fill your habsuite. At some point, you hear the distinct click of Megatron’s interface panel closing and you tilt your helm up to see him putting his spike away. Also distinctly, the slight burn of soreness as Megatron wipes your exposed valve of excess transfluid.

You’d need to wash regardless, but it’s the thought that counts.

“That was...” And you have no words. Your voice sounds distant and far away, like you’re listening to yourself whisper from miles away. Megatron hums to fill your silence, then you hear the muffled sound of the cloth being discarded somewhere in your room.

“May I join you for the night?” Your Lord’s question is far more polite than it needs to be, considering the circumstances, but it’s

“Of course.” Your answer is quick and sure, marked by the tremendous effort you put in to roll onto your side, even though you still can’t quite feel your legs. You watch Megatron around your berth and sit at your side. He stretches, silver armor plates shifting and whirring back into place, the length of his back struts revealing his hidden Energon lines.

Then he swings his peds up and lays beside you like it’s the most normal action he’s ever done. Though you do have to scoot over until your wings stick out past the edge.

“I would like for this to be a repeated venture,” Megatron teases after he settles himself, “And if you will accept, for this to be continued past a successful newspark creation.”

He glances at you out the corner of his optic, its glow dimmed. You smile.

He’s never been one for grand romantic gestures, never one to speak about softer, kinder things like “love” or “sparkbonding”. It’s unbecoming of him, the Leader of the Decepticons, former gladiator of Kaon, dark Lord and powerful Master. You don’t know if he’d ever pose the actual question, or if it will remain as nebulous, vague riddles and coded phrases for you to decipher and analyze. It isn’t in Lord Megatron’s making to be tender— At least not in the explicit regards.

“I want nothing less for the sire of my offspring.” You reply, your frame curling around the curve of his chassis, servo finding the same spot it always had: Right above his insignia, above his spark. His engine rumbles evenly, the steady drumming could bring you to power down, though you’re kept awake by the pleasant ache between your legs, the chill of the Nemesis, and the pride in bearing your Lord an heir.

~ * ~ * ~

epilogue

Your berth is too small, much too small, for two Cybertronians attempting to recharge upon it. Megatron keeps an arm wrapped under and around you to prevent you from falling off, your frame halfway atop his. One of your servos rests under your helm, the other lazily traces invisible shapes on his broad chassis. Both of your EM fields mingle, the waves pulsing to each other in rhythm.

Earthen hours have passed since your coupling, and though you’re tired, you find yourself unable to slip into recharge.

“My Lord?” You catch his attention, Megatron optics flickering back as he pulls himself from the onset of recharge. Part of you regrets keeping him awake— Primus only knows how many sleepless nights your leader subjects himself to— and the other part of you quietly marvels at how he was nearly dozing in your arms. What show of trust is as great as that?

“If I am to carry, this means the Decepticon cause loses one of its strongest warriors—” You sigh happily as the warlord shifts so that his servo rubs your wings, tenderly caressing sensitive transformation seams and Energon lines. What more you wanted to say dies on your glossa, too caught up in the tender display of affection your Lord gives you.

“A temporary hindrance.” Megatron rumbles, shuttering his optics once again and stating, “The Decepticons will prevail.”

It falls quiet, fully so for a handful of clicks until you pipe up again.

“... And, we will need protoforms. And transitionary metals and alloys. And start the process of distilling Energon into low-grade, sparkling-safe—”

Megatron silences you with a deep kiss, one that has you purring in delight and cupping his faceplates. He lingers on your dermas for a few beats, his EM field heavy and warm on yours, lulling you closer to recharge. Megatron parts, settling down on his back struts, his frame creaking and hissing air as he relaxes. Then he sighs:

“We will discuss technicalities in the morning.”

#transformers #transformers prime #tfp #tfp megatron #megatron #megatron x reader #megatron x you #megatron x femme #megatron x cybertronian reader #cybertronian reader #femme reader

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bloodmoon-bites · 9 months

Text

A twisted embrace |:| TFP Megatron x reader|:|

Warnings: Hints towards sex work and homelessness other then that i think that's it Word count: 2.2k

Megatron stood there, looking out the massive window that sat in the warship’s command center. It had been so long, and he was blissfully unaware of what was happening on the landing strip of the ship, unaware of who had returned after all of these years. That was until he heard a voice come through his commlink, Starscream.

“Lord megatron!” The mech said through the commlink, “im heading towards the bridge, we have a… visitor” Starscream said to megatron, as he began leading the visitor into the warship when Starscream heard megatron finally reply, “Who is this… visitor?” megatron replied, a tone mixed with his usual venom for the 2nd in command and a bit of curiosity, his optics went wide when he heard Starscream’s response, a single one-word response that sent so many emotions through Megatron's whole body, ‘Y/N’ and with that, he immediately sent everyone out of the room, and standing there alone he waited. Your pov

You walked behind Starscream, back straightened as your optics met with the optics of many confused Vehicons, many of them stopping in their tracks to stare at you, others stopping and bowing. You had practically started the whole deception movement with megatron, the two of you meeting in the gladiator ring, and when he saw you hold your own you immediately gained his respect, the pair of you growing close as you spoke of the corruption that the caste system held, talking about how the council needed to be overthrown, how the system needed to be changed for the better of Cybertron. You had been there for him when he started his campaign, standing beside him through every speech, even making some of your own, while he had appealed to the miners, the physical laborers, mostly mechs, you appealed to the femmes, pulling them from the streets from the clubs, telling them of your’s and Megatron's plan. By the time you two had gained a massive following he had moved to try and appeal to the council to become a prime, he preached how the caste system was breaking Cybertron, and how its citizens were suffering. They had thrown him out, denied him, all because of some archivist who thought peace would work. The two of you had founded the Decepticon movement and you two were going to see it through. But your time had been cut short when everyone thought you had been killed. In reality, you had been captured by a wreaker crew and they faked your death, borderline torturing you for information, and when you didn't give it up they knocked you into stasis, making you miss half the war and ultimately missing the destruction of Cybertron. Until one day you woke up, your stasis chamber had lost power and you woke up, alone on a dead, abandoned planet you once called your home. You flew around the entire planet looking for any sign of life, and when you found none, even both Kaon and Iacon were abandoned, you proceeded to planet hop, going from planet to planet, chasing down every last lead on where the Decepticons had gone to, and finally you found them, on a small planet known as earth. You quickly grabbed as much energon as you could and took off for Earth, praying you weren’t too late, that you hadn't lost, and that megatron was still there.

Now here you stood, walking behind his new 2nd in command towards the bridge on primus you’d be lying if you said you weren't nervous, being out of the game for so long had a toll on a person, especially if that person had been alone for so many years. The closer you got the more nervous you felt until you reached the door and somehow, some way all the fear was gone, you were nothing more than content. As you sighed the door clicked open, the door sliding away to reveal an empty bridge and… him, back turned head perking up slightly at the sound. Then you heard him speak, “Y/n…” he said quietly as he slowly turned around, and you began walking ahead, optics never leaving his form as you approached him, taking small steps towards the mech you had once called your friend, the mech you had grown so close to all those sleepless, painful nights in the pits. Once you reached him he was fully facing you, him looking down slightly as you looked up at him, the height difference was there but not by much. The pair of you stood in silence for so long, just looking into each other's optics, trying to understand if this was real or just a trick being played on them by their minds. He slowly moved a hand up to your shoulder, laying it down on it a small smirk fell on his lips. He could touch you, feel you, and he knew… he knew you were real, that you were here. “Y/n, it’s been too long… we thought you had died,” he said lowly, voice quiet, nothing close to the booming voice he normally held when regarding his troops, his hand never left your shoulder throughout the entire conversation, almost as if he feared that if he stopped touching you, you’d disappear.

“Yes… I was made well aware of that when I awoke alone on Cybertron. I had been taken captive by a wreaker team, they tried to pull information out of me but when they were unsuccessful they put me in stasis, I just woke up a few years ago… I've been looking for our team ever since” You took a pause before looking down, “and truth be told part of me had feared we lost, I was unable to find any Decepticons for a long time before I finally ran into the DJD a few months back on Medarin, they told me where to find you” she finished as she looked up at him, placing your hand on top of his as you shook your head, brows furrowing, “what happened when I woke up… cybertron… its gone…” you said you had been so confused, how had the war gotten that bad? After he had explained to you what the Autobots had done, how they had fought the Decepticons to the point of killing their planet you were pissed. You just stood there, blank-faced, pissed off, and physically unable to form a single word out of how shocked you were by everything he had just told you, you had hated Cybertron for how it treated you, but you missed your home, and knowing you’d never be able to return, all because of Optimus and his Autobots you were enraged. As you slowly began to calm down megatron put a hand on you and told you he’d show you around. And he did, he showed you what rooms were what, where you would be staying, and where his room was should you need him, even going as far as programming a 2nd room code in his door just for you in case you had to get in.

You quickly began to grow reaccustomed to the fighting, the day-to-day fighting, only this time it was between you and a small band of remaining Autobots, fighting mostly over resources to survive. At first, megatron had you overseeing mining operations to get you back into the swing of things but the first time the bots broke into a mine you were over seeing they were so confused as to how you were there, even Optimus had no clue how you had gotten to earth, but then again he didn't have much time to think before he was met with a well-deserved punch to the face. After that megatron let you out more and more, you were finally back to being able to do things again, and it wasn't long before Starscream betrayed him and he was run out of the Decepticons and you were placed back in the spot of second in command. You were constantly seen around Megatron, almost attached to his hip, the pair of you cooking up strategies, talking over what to do with a mine, the both of you were growing close again, and a familiar warmth grew in your spark for the mech again. Once again though for the sake of the war, you pushed it aside, feeling that the cause was more important than your happiness. While this went on for a while the feeling grew more and more overwhelming as the two of you grew closer. You sat there in his room, holding a glass of high grade in your hand, sipping the glass little by little as you waited for megatron to return to his seat beside you. You swirled the liquid in the glass, watching the way it made a mini whirlpool, when you heard pedesteps you turned around to see megatron returning, walking towards you with a small smile on his face. The both of you had been talking a reminiscing on the past, the few good times you two had when you were younger, before the war. When he sat back down he handed you a datapad and then you remembered why he had left in the first place, he had gone to grab some of his old poetry. You smile as you sat your glass down and unlock the datapad, looking over a few of his poems before placing the datapad on your lap and lookingg up to him with a soft smile before sighing and speaking up, “Megatron I need to talk to you…” you said before taking your glass and quickly downing the half of it that was left. The mech looked at you confused, his smile gone replaced with a look of confusion, “oh?” he said as he sat up a little straighter, his eyes narrowed slightly as you spoke up again, “I just need you to hear me out okay? Just let me speak before you say anything.” you said as you turned yourself around in the chair looking forward, before turning your head around to look back at him, “We’ve known each other for a long time right?” He nodded, “Well, I know we’re good friends for so many countless years, but for so long… so so long… I’ve…” You went quiet, trying to find the right words, you didn't want to mess this up, “I’ve fallen for you Megs… I am so in love with you, I can even begin to describe it, and i’ve tried to keep it under wraps, to push the feelings away because we have a war to fight, but I can't keep lying to myself, I needed to at least tell you, rather you feel the same or don't… I needed to get it off my chest.” you whispered the last part softly as you looked away from him again, staring at the floor.

He sat there, silent, and unmoving, for once he didn't know what to say or do but stare at you, his optics widened and his lips parted as if he was trying to say something but nothing came out. Finally he got ahold of himself and he put his hand under your chin, slowly tilting your head to face him

He pulled you towards him and he took your lips into his, kissing you with a fire and passion like no other. Placing a hand on the back of your head he led you through the kiss while his other hand moved to rest on your waist, and after a few minutes, he slowly pulled away. 3rd person pov As megatron pulled away from her they par sat there, with their eyes closed and foreheads pressed together. Megatron opened his optics first, looking over her face with a smirk, he had felt the same about her for a long time, he had been so torn when he thought she died, he had locked himself away, letting Soundwave take momentary control over the Decepticons, he had let himself go. Now here she was, they had shared a kiss, she told him she loved him… He wasn't about to let her go again. He watched as she slowly opened her optics, and as they sat there staring at each other with smiles on their faces. Y/N leaned forward, pressing their lips together, sharing a soft passionate kiss, nothing but love flowing between them as she leaned into him, her body perfectly fitting in his grasp. After a few more kisses the pair pulled away from one another, looking into each other’s eyes their silent conversation spoke more words to the other than any they had said before. Megatron’s hand moved, resting on her cheek, he ran his thumb over her bottom lip as he gazed into her optics. Megatron slowly stood up and led her to his bed. He laid her down on the bed, placing a soft kiss to her forehead as he leaned in and laid beside her, pulling her into his arms he smiled as he tucked her head under his, the war still raged on but even within this twisted embrace, there remains a flicker of hope – a whisper of salvation that their bond might offer something more than just survival.

#transformers #transformers prime #transformers x reader #transformers prime x reader #Megatron x reader #tfp megatron x reader #Bloodmoon-writes

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this-is-my-world-beware · 10 months

Text

Starshock future interaction

Starscream became aware of the pressure on his wrists and pedes, and onlined his optics and found himself in a dimly lit room. Focusing his optics on the furniture nearest to him, he saw general medical equipment. A scalpel, some circuits and cables, a welder, but the odd one out was cans of polish. In his colors as well.

Ratchet wouldn’t bother to bring out polish, and Knockout definitely would keep the red shade for himself. That only left…

There was a hiss of an opening door, then heavy pedefalls. Starscream lifted his helm as high as his restraints allowed his frame to move, and saw the distinctive pentagonal helm and twitching finials. Shockwave’s optic glowed at the sight of Starscream as he lumbered over. Starscream kept his optics on him until Shockwave was looking down on him prone on the cot, finials rotating.

“How dreadful to wake up and see you. I was hoping I was at least captured by agreeable company,” he sneered at the Decepticon scientist.

“It is illogical to expect an agreeable mech to be one’s capturer.”

“And I definitely didn’t miss hearing you go on about logic.”

“You would be wise to keep your commentary at a minimum. It is in your best interest Lord Megatron does not notice your presence here.”

Starscream’s sneer fell immediately.

“Megatron isn’t aware I’m here?”

Shockwave did not answer. Instead, he turned to the datapad beside him and did Primus knows what with it.

Now he would admit he was feeling a bit uneasy. He assumed Megatron had ordered his capture, therefore giving him some protection. Megatron wanted his former second back in his position online. But if Shockwave had captured him without notifying Megatron, he was at his mercy. As great a telepath Soundwave was, he couldn’t read a field across galaxies. This lab was far too dingy to be situated on the Nemesis.

Starscream really shouldn’t be so bold. He was tightly restrained and alone with the “logical” brute.

But it has been a while since he’s messed with the cyclops.

“Fine, I’ll believe you haven’t told Megatron. But I don’t see any reason to hold my glossa. We’re in your off world lab, aren’t we?”

“Intuitive as always.”

“Watch your tone!”

“You’re not in any position to make commands, Starscream.”

“Ha! Aren’t I? The Autobots Are looking for me, and the Decepticons in pursuit. You will have to explain to Megatron why you’ve been keeping me here.”

Suddenly, Starscream’s helm jolted up with the force of a servo slamming into the cot. A sharp tip of a digit was dangerously close to the delicate wiring in his neck.

“Megatron will not be finding you. You only have me to rely on for your continued safety and health.”

Shockwave’s voice became almost a growl when he referred to himself, and his field felt slimy and heavy on Starscream’s frame. It was unnatural how emotional his field was, pulsing with anger and coiling around him obsessively.

“…Relax. I don’t understand what you’re getting so worked up about. It’s not logical to be so upset over me.”

Shockwave’s optic gleamed ominously. Starscream began to internally panic watching his finials rotate forward and backward.

The cot creaked when the weight of Shockwave's frame eased off, and Starscream quietly sighed in relief when Shockwave turned away from him.

"You could at least tell me what you intend to do with me," Starscream muttered.

"You will assist me as my lab partner, as you did before your defection."

Starscream glared at his restraints.

"This isn't how to treat a partner," Starscream snapped. "At least, not in a lab," some mad part of him added with a laugh.

Shockwave tensed, long enough for Starscream to notice a shift in his field, before returning to his work.

"Remember something, did you?"

Shockwave didn't respond audibly, but the quiet hum of running fans told him everything.

"You must have been lonely in my absence," Starscream cooed.

"Starscream. Desist."

My, he actually sounded troubled. Starscream smirked. How fun.

"I'd be willing to let you have your way with me."

Shockwave’s helm snapped up, optic dim.

“If you let me go after," Starscream added, tone serious.

"That is unacceptable," Shockwave said without hesitation, and he went back to quietly ignoring him.

“Fragger.”

#shockstar #Starscream #shockwave #transformers

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skylarkking · 1 month

Text

To Heal a Mockingbird

A TFA Ratchet x Mech!Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Chapter 1: A Decepticon's Decision

A/n this story takes place partially pre-series before going into the series.

------

'War raged across the planet, just like our lord wanted. Death, destruction, chaos, all of this was his doing.

And I was one of his soldiers.

But how far can a soldier go before he begins to break? Before he crumbles? Before...'

"This is stupid." I muttered to myself as I stared at the datapad in my grip and the words I had written on them. I ended up turning off the data pad and returning it to my subspace before flopping back onto the cold berth of my quarters.

I stared blankly at the ceiling with crimson optics and a tired gaze, my mind running and racing despite not having a proper recharge in a very long time.

War had been raging my homeworld for Primus knows how long, a war I once thought was justified.

But with recent events, my loyalties and morals had begun to come into question.

"Y/D! Report to the Nemesis! Now!" My commanding officer, Starscream, shrieked over the comlink.

"Yeah, yeah, calm your circuits, Screecher." I grumbled in response.

"GET TO IT OR-" He started to bark before I cut him off by hanging up, my frame slowly rising up from the berth with a stretch of my wings and a satisfying round of pops from my joints.

I made my way out of my quarters and into the hall of the barracks I resided in, several other Decepticons looking over to me with suspicious glances before returning to their usual business.

I ignored their gazes and turned down the hall towards the take-off strip. My form shifting after a running head start sent me into the air. I cut through the skies with the grace and speed of a true Seeker, something that I was proud of but was far less vocal about compared to my C.O.

I eventually made my way towards the Nemesis's flight deck, where my forms shifted again as I landed. Almost as soon as my pedes made contact with the metal plating, Starscream came out and began to lecture me about 'being disrespectful' and 'uncooperative'. I tuned out most of what he said, at least until he said something that actually caught my interest.

"We have an Autobot prisoner for you."

Starscream's words caused me to perk up curiously, my optics meeting his as a result.

"Sir?" I asked. "What do you mean you have an Autobot prisoner?"

"Well, if you had been paying attention -"

"Aaaaand here we go again." I muttered to myself, cutting the second in command off.

"As I was saying," he continued with a growl. "We have an Autobot prisoner who may know the location of a great power source. However, I believe he needs some.... convincing."

I sighed in annoyance and waved my servo in a way that conveyed my distain for the whole affair.

"Like I told Lord Megatron, I'm no longer practicing nmemosurgery."

"Yet you still have the probes." Starscream said, followed by a smirk. "Surely they aren't there for show."

"Look, I don't think it's a good idea, okay?" I said firmly with narrowing optics. "But... I'll see if I can coax the information out of this bot."

Starscream sneered with a dark chuckle and motioned for me to follow. I reluctantly complied and followed the seeker inside the Nemesis, where we weaved through the various corridors to the brig. Inside one of the cells was a bot with a red and white paint job who looked no older than I was. His frame mildly dented and scratched from what I inferred was a struggle. Judging by the markings on his frame, I could tell he was one of the Autobot medics, something I did not like.

"This is the bot you want information from?" I asked Starscream with a hint of disgust in my tone.

"He knows where the power source is. All you have to do is make him talk." Starscream growled.

"Both you and Lord Megatron know that I do not harm medics!" I snapped. "It's dishonorable!"

"You and your stupid sense of honor!" Starscream barked. "Just shut up and do it! Unless you want me to get Lugnut to tear your sorry paint job apart!" I flinched in fear at the thought of the hulking mech, a shiver running up my spinal strut and causing my wings to fold tightly against my back. "That's what I thought." Starscream huffed. "Now get to it!"

"Y-yes, sir." I stammered out as I entered the code to the cell and retracted the bars. The medic scooted back and away with fear as I entered, his baby blue optics practically staring into my spark.

It made me nervous.

"Commander, please leave us be so I can focus on my work." I said to the seeker.

"Ugh, fine!" Starscream muttered. "Don't screw this up!"

Once Starscream was out of audial shot, I knelt down by the injured medic and carefully took his more injured arm into my servo, my optics quietly inspecting the dented and cracked metal

"What's your name?" I asked as I ejected out one of my various repair tools and got to work on fixing the medic.

"Wh... why do you care?" He asked with a quiet voice.

"Because I like to know the names of my patients." I said, not even looking up from my work. "My name is Y/D if you'd care to know."

"I... I'm Ratchet." The medic said with an increasingly confused expression on his face.

"Ratchet... I like that name." I said nonchalantly. "It suits you."

"Oh, um... thanks?" There was a long silence as I repaired the medic before Ratchet spoke again. "Why are you doing this?"

"Hm?" I questioned as I looked up at him. "Doing what?"

"Helping me. Why.... why are you helping me?"

"Morals." I said flatly. Thankfully, that answer seemed to satisfy the medic, and I was able to finish the repairs to his frame.

"Thank you." Ratchet said with a strange sense of awe.

"There is no need for niceties." I said. "But nothing comes for free, and you know what I wang."

"You want to know the location of the energy source. Well I can't tell you."

"This energy source must be powerful if you are willing to hide its location from me." I said.

"Listen, if Megatron gets ahold of this, everyone and everything on Cybertron will be destroyed." Ratchet said with increasing earnest. I studied his expression for any malicious intent or falsehood, but I could not find any on his face or in his optics.

"This... power source you Autobots are hiding. If it is this powerful, why have you not used it?"

"Because using it would be the death of us all." Ratchet said grimly. "And.... it wouldn't be right to use a source of life for a weapon of death."

Those words clicked in my mind, telling me exactly what the power source was in an instant.

"The power source," I said with an urgency in my voice. "What is it?"

"I... I shouldn't - "

"Please." I practically begged barely above a whisper. The medic paused a moment before sighing in defeat.

"It's the Allspark."

The energon in my tubing practically froze in place, my optics widening with an increasing fear.

"No, it... Megatron wouldn't dare...." I whispered. "He wouldn't.... would he? Sure, he's strong-willed and stubborn, but... this..." I was so shocked by this revelation that I ended up staring blankly at the floor.

"You didn't know that was what he was after, did you?" Ratchet asked. I shook my helm, and in that moment, I truly began to question my loyalties.

"He never told me anything." I said quietly. "I... I can't let this happen. I won't let this happen." I stood up and offered a servo to the medic. "Come with me, I'm going to get you out of here."

Ratchet took my servo, and I pulled him up on his pedes, the pair of us quickly darting through the halls and towards one of the shuttle bays. I shoved the medic inside and forced it to deploy, the medic and shuttle drifting off into space.

"TRAITOR!" I heard the bellow of Lugnut roar, my helm whipping around to see him, Megatron, and Starscream all aiming their weapons at me.

"I KNEW HE WAS A SLIMEY AUTOBOT SYMPATHIZER!" Starscream shrieked. I ejected one of my blades and held it defensively, my focus entirely fixed on the glaring warlord.

"Is it true?" I snarled. "Are you really planning on using the Allspark as a weapon?"

"Of course I am." Megatron growled as he drew his own blades. "Too bad you won't be alive long enough to see it come to fruition."

"Then I'll just have to stop you."

--------

Next Chapter: Here

#transformers #art #drawing #sketch #transformers animated #tfa #tfa fanfic #tf fanfic #transformers fanfiction #fanfic #male reader #x reader #reader insert #tfa ratchet

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nevis-the-skeleton · 1 year

Text

Shockwave and the names of his Creations (my AU, TPS)

In my AU, Shockwave is really lame for finding names for his creations, really lame.

Vehicons

*Shockwave is in his lab, and has summoned the Decepticons high command to come, to show them his now completed work. Megatron, Starscream, and Soundwave soon arrive, and the scientist introduces a group of three Vehicons, before declaring*

Shockwave: I present to you our new army. The Vehicons, they are easy to produce, and have a minimum of intelligence to be autonomous.

Starscream: How did you build them?

Shockwave: Thanks to Soundwave's plan.

*Soundwave makes a startled move, and turns to Megatron with a slightly annoyed move*

Megatron: You created Cold Constructions?

Shockwave: No, my Vehicons are nowhere near as sophisticated as the Cold Constructions.

*Starscream looks unconvinced and a little angry, and Soundwave crosses his arms*

Shockwave, sighs: I assure you, these are not Cold Constructs.

Megatron, to Starscream and Soundwave: What Shockwave did is useful for our cause, think about it.

Starscream: Yeah…

Megatron: Well, they have names, so we can recognize them?

Shockwave: Of course. *points to the first Vehicon* it is called 3D0U4R, *points to the second* B45T13N, *points to the third* M4RCU5.

Starscream, indignant: Those aren't names!!

Shockwave: Of course it is.

Starscream: Those are registration number!

Shockwave: Perfect names for drones.

*Starscream glares at Shockwave, and Soundwave's screen turns red*

Starscream, angry: That's stupid! In addition these numbers have no logic!

Shockwave, indignant: Of course it is!

*Megatron motions for everyone to calm down*

Megatron, scold: Seriously, how old are you?

*Starscream pouts, and Shockwave turns to Megatron*

Shockwave: I assure you that these names-

Starscream, whisper: Registration number...

Shockwave, tilts his antennae back angrily: Those names are logical.

Megatron: Explain to us then.

Shockwave: Alright.

*Shockwave then began an explanation that no one understood. And no matter how much he explained in every possible way, the others did not see the logic which seemed obvious to the scientist.*

The Insecticons

*Shockwave had created a new army, for him more powerful than his Vehicons, now obsolete. Megatron, Starscream, and Soundwave enter the lab, and the Seeker cringes upon seeing the Insecticons*

Shockwave: I present to you my new invention.

Megatron: Impressive.

Starscream, discreetly: But what are these monsters…?!

Shockwave: Insecticons, more powerful than Vehicons, but also dumber.

Soundwave: < They > < have > < names > < ? >

Shockwave: Of course, we have Insec-1, Insec-2, Ins-

Starscream, stop Shockwave: I stop you right now!

*Shockwave moves his antennae back, before turning to Starscream*

Starscream: Give them true names! Not stupid registration numbers!!

*Megatron raises optics, but Soundwave nods in great approval*

Shockwave, turns to Megatron for intervention: Lord Megatron…! It's absurd!

Megatron: I don't see what's wrong with giving them real names?

Shockwave, shakes his head: It's useless, they were created to fight and to die on the battlefield. They are drones, like Vehicons, they have no value! Not enough to have names!

*These words lead to the anger of the two Cold Constructions in front of him, who glare at him. Starscream lifts his wings high, as Soundwave clenches his fists*

Starscream, annoyed: Give them names right now!

*Shockwave sighs heavily, before looking one last time at Megatron, who nods. The scientist points to the first Insecticon*

Shockwave: Your name will be… hm… Bombshell! *points to the second one* you, Shrapnel! *points to the third* Deathduel, *the fourth* Bombduel, *the fifth* Deathshell, *points to the sixth* Due-

Starscream, angrily: I swear on Primus that if you give another "-ell" name to the next Insecticon I'll kick your aft!

Shockwave, stares coldly at Starscream, while pointing at the sixth Insecticon: Kick back.

Starscream: Grr, you-

Megatron, grab Starscream: Alright, time to go.

*Megatron ends up bringing out Soundwave and Starscream, even though the Seeker mostly wanted to gut Shockwave*

*In the end, it was Starscream and Soundwave who find names for the other Insecticons*

The Predacons

*Shockwave created his first Predacon, i.e. Predaking (who haven't his name yet). Shockwave hadn't necessarily been looking for a name for his creation, but end up thinking that saying "hey you" isn't really correct*

Shockwave: You know, I've been thinking about it, and I think it's time I got you a real name.

*Predaking shakes his head with interest, apparently very excited to have one*

Shockwave: So, I'll call you...

*Predaking shakes his tail impatiently*

Shockwave: Predacon!

*Predaking is suddenly a lot less excited*

Shockwave: What? You don't like ?

*Predaking walks away, disappointed, and grunts slightly upset*

Shockwave: But, it's a very good name! You are the only Predacon, it's logical that this is your name! Hey, wait! Come back! Predacon!

*Predaking doesn't turn around at the appellation, and flies away*

~-~

*Shockwave has created two new Predacons which are Darksteel and Skylynx. They had remained in the vats when Shockwave was on Earth, but upon his return to Cybertron, with Dreadwing, he had opened the vats. But then again, they don't have names. Darksteel walks closer, and says*

Darksteel: Hey, Mr. Shockwave, could we have names other than Predacon-2 and Predacon-3?

Skylynx: Yeah, where at least would one of us have to be Predacon-1! Why can't we be called Predacon-1?!

Shockwave: Because a Predacon before you was already called Predacon. And so, it was him, Predacon-1.

Skylynx: Lame…

Darksteel: But I want a real name! A cool one like yours, or Dreadwing's!

Skylynx: Oh yeah! That's a hundred times better!

Shockwave: *sighs*…

Darksteel and Skylynx: Please! Please! Please! Please! Please!

Shockwave: … Well, okay!

Darksteel and Skylynx, happy: Yeah!

Shockwave: Alright, you *points to Skylynx* I'll call you Preda, and you *points to Darksteel* King… *Antennas droop sadly* Like this, when I'll call you both it'll make Predaking *light sob*

*Darksteel and Skylynx look at Shockwave in confusion, and Dreadwing intervenes*

Dreadwing: Hm… so… uh… No… Come with me you two, let Shockwave work, we'll find names together.

*Finally, the two Predacons chose their names themselves, with the help of Dreadwing*

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hallucinateonpaperspines · 1 month

Note

cybertronians aren't aware what Guardians are, are they ?

Not really, no.

Truth, especially historical truths, can be very easily twisted and diluted over time. Partly because of the whole "winners write the history books" but also because there are so many facets to events and people that fade with witness's memories or as generations pass by. Sometimes it's because one piece of the story seems more important, or it serves an agenda, sometimes it's because there's no one left to tell the forgotten pieces, and sometimes it's simply due to improper record keeping that details are lost and stories skewed ever so slightly. And none of this is ever really a constant phenomenon, those alterations occur depending on the situation and the people, so different groups may have different versions of the same story but still miss key or minor details.

Slightly depressing and fascinating, there will always be a foundational truth to history, a fact of what actually happened, but so much of the why, the reasonings, the details of the mundane can be forgotten and left to speculation. You'll never truly know, because you'll never be there and experience it for yourself.

Kudus to the monuments and graves and imprints that people have left behind. Complaints scrawled into books. Building projects dedicated to great loves. Skeletons surrounded by nit-nacks that mattered to the deceased. Faded etchings of names on stone that have lasted where the memory has not. Fragments of lives that we can only speculate on and stories we can only guess at a few chapters of.

Ehem... weird rant aside, the same principle also applies to the Guardians in OT&T. They're a people who hail from the very earliest part of Cybertron's history, a very controversial and secretive piece of it even if they were important. Every bot has a different idea and awareness of what a Guardian is but none of them know the truth of it.

Bulkhead as a construction worker, a laborer, would not have received any education pertaining to Cybertron's history, and as a lower-level mid-classer, there wouldn't be much mingling between higher-level elite or low-class superstition. He knows the basics, Primes are leaders appointed by Primus, but he knows nothing about Guardians.

Bumblebee is a war frame forged during the early days of the conflicts that would become the Great War and was never meant to be anything but an enforcer for the council or a scout. Usually, he would also not know anything beyond the basics, other than an awareness of the vacant High Protector role, but he is aware that mythic beings would be the ones to claim that title through Ratchet.

Arcee, assigned as a caretaker and teacher on pre-war Cybertron is aware of the basics. The Primes, the Council, and the several Lord High Protectors emerging every few centuries alongside a 'false' prime and served as global military commanders. She knows nothing about Guardians.

Ratchet as a doctor catering to the elites, including several politicians, could mingle with such minds and accompanying ideas. Throw in a chatty archivist apprenticed to the great Alpha Trion, and Ratchet arguably knows more than some of the more educated High Caste. He is well aware of the politics involved, of how a legitimized Prime can overturn The Council and supplant them if so desired. He knows that for a prime to legitimize themselves to the stagnant populace is to embody traditional examples provided by the original 13. And that, outside of bearing a prime-only relic, the easiest way for a potential prime to be legitimized is by partnering with a High Protector. A mimicry of the myths of the 13 and their Guardians, a symbol of the modern ideal of guardianship, a Prime must have a Protector. A nod of respect to Cybertron's origins, a mark of strength, and a promise that their leader's spark would extinguish before harm would befall Cybertron. Its a political statement and the Guardians are simply the long forgotten origins of it.

Optimus Prime knows that the Guardians are not a myth, that they existed and were real. He knows they were gifts from Primus. Relics of potential. He knows that High Protector was a singular title for one selected Guardian per prime among the masses. He knows that every true Prime has a Protector, and the Protector could be the key to everything. He does not know where they originate from. He does not know who they are. He did not know they could be children. He does now- He does not know where his promised Guardian is.

Airachnid hails from a heavily organic colony world. Other than being notably pacifist, written off for being beastformers, her people also were heavily superstitious story keepers. Some collected stories of the future, prophecies of the ancients and of their own seers, others cultivated and preserved tales from the past. The tales of ancient revolts and monsters among them. Airachnid nows the Gaurdians as rarities and creatures of great value. She knows stories of them being organics that house silver internals, sparks that burn bright but burn short, prey to be wielded and displayed. She knows a new Guardian has appeared somehow, and she sees a prize worthy of her hunt. A truly endangered species and something to steal from the Prime.

The Vehicons know nothing. Nothing at all about the Guardians, but they're hearing a lot about JA332's "Spawn of Unicron"

Megatron knows that he should have been Optimus' Lord High Protector. An equal and respected leader. He knows stories of Guardians from his time in the pits. Tales he heard alongside retellings of Megatronous' strength and follies. Stories of a long-dead race that rose against the Primes and lost. Of creatures that predacons bowed to, servants that tied themselves to their masters, how a few foolish slaves Guardians stood against the wise and benevolent rule of their superiors, and how a race was wiped out for it. He heard tales that the Cataclysm did not come from the stars but from the scorned. Of slaves driven made and turned into sparkeaters. Of living relics that were trapped and suffered. Megatron knows which stories he believes. He named himself for the Fallen for a reason.

Makeshift, Breakdown, Knockout, and Wheeljack don't know anything and they don't care to know anything more. They've got better things to do, reclaiming their dignity/squishing an organic, getting that new buffer for someone special/working on exposure therapy, providing exposure therapy/showing off their lustrous finish at the races, and tinkering with grenades/regular facetime with Bulk and Miko, like winning a damned war.

Starscream knows the myths, he just doesn't believe them. If he must listen to a sparkling story he would prefer Vosian tales instead.

Soundwave has a collection of historical manuscripts, stories, and theories at the tip of his digits. He hasn't had a need to examine them. Yet.

None of them would think a human would be a Guardian- not at the beginning.

The Shadow knows. Time has not diluted his memory.

#ao3 author #ao3 #tfp #transformers prime #aligned continuity #of timelines and trolleys #ashlyn moore (oc)#info dump #everyone has a different piece of the puzzel

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tagedeszorns · 6 months

Text

Eidolon-cake for Marine Meat Monday!

Because I am on a roll, promoting the Lord Commander Primus.

#warhammer #horus heresy #emperor's children #adeptus astartes #Marine Meat Monday #Lord Commander Primus #Eidolon

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assortedvillainvault · 2 years

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Hello! Chance anon here! Can we get a continuation of the Blitzwing headcanons with how any or all of the personalities flirt with the human reader, please? I hope you’re having a wonderful day!

Chance anon you're single handedly fuelling my decent back into transformers hell, ily so much. My days are indeed wonderful so far, hope yours is too!

Blitzwings three personalities are... on a similar mission, but good lord they can't coordinate:

Icy x Reader

If the other two weren't so damn forward you would have no clue that his intentions were to date you. The problem with presenting as cold and unfeeling...people won't actually notice when you DO feel something. RIP.

Icy is, however, extremely observant and has the clearest memory of the three. All your little offhanded comments and throwaway remarks are stored in his head clear as crystal, there is NO chance that he's forgetting your meetups, hobbies or preferences.

He's actually dedicating energy to spending time with you and remebering what you like, which is something we doesn't do even for most members of his own team. It takes some...education on human customs and shopping (We do Not. Discuss. The Amazon delivery incident.) but his gift giving game is on Point.

He's also straight up the most likely to hit you with an innuendo with a completely blank expression, mans poker face is flawless, you've straight up considered thereapy for some of his one liners becuase SIR that did not sound innocent in the slightest you can't just DO that do you even KNOW WHAT THAT SOUNDED LIKE BECAUSE YOU'RE PLAYING IT LIKE YOU DON'T-

He does. He very much does. He delights in your flustered screaming and the second you realise this and reciprocate he's going to pounce.

Hothead x Reader

Hothead isn't just 'angry', though that is his go to emotion for a variety of reasons, he's actually just 'feelings' amped up to 11.

There's. There's going to be a lot of screaming. Invest in some earplugs. Please.

A lot of his backtalk and accusations (the time you were accused of being a spy for autobot high command was a definite new one) are actually fronts for awkwardness and soft fuzzies that he has no clue how to process.

He's the personality you see more than you hear, funnily enough. Typically when Blitzwing interacts with you a ~Feelings~ moment will occur, he will switch in with a a specacular stuttering blush and just as quickly switch out again to Icy or Random in a desperate attempt to play it off.

In the absence of meaningful words, he's going. To Flex.

No seriously he loves feeling your eyes on him when he's doing something impressive, Blitzwing is phenominally strong and experienced but among decepticons open admiration is discouraged. Your sparkly eyes and awed gasps are pure high grade for him.

He's going to bench press his colleagues. He's going to punch his colleagues. He's going to start a brawl with his colleagues that gets him in serious trouble but the sheer glory of a one handed vistory against Lugnut while you were watching is going to put a swagger in his step for weeks.

If someone insults you or, primus forbid, puts you in actual danger, all bets are off that mech is getting Murdered.

He's possessive and Touchy. You're not getting rides, but you are getting picked up more often than you're walking.

He cannot take or give compliments though. It's hilarious.

Random x Reader

Anon I hope you're ready for...everything. Random is, uh, a lot.

One thing nobody seriously seems to realise about Blitzwing is that his intelligence, which most associate with Icy, actually applies to all three personalities. Icy simply applies it in the most recognised ways because hes the only one who cares about their actual JOB as lieutenant.

Random will apply that intelligence to absolutely steamrolling your personal space and boundaries with his shenanigans. You're going to have to get firm about things like clothes (which he likes eating) and privacy (he has absolutely tried to watch you while you shower. Not to be creepy, but becuase TF's have no concept of clothes or nudity and he wanted to keep talking to you.)

The MOST openly affectionate. Will serenade you in the hallways. Will hold you in his hands and dance with you. Will lick you in front of other cons as a show of dominance. Starscream has refeused to touch you since, which was the desied effect.

Absolute cuddle bug with zero filter. Will staright up purr and nuzzle his way right into your heart. Will physically cherish absolutely every inch of you and not shy away from any details.

Has a tendency to get distracted easily by whatever aspect of you has caught his focus this time. You're probably going to have to repeat yourself numerous times as your voice has become his soothing backdrop for his focus to fly away to.

He's a gift giver like Icy, but it's everything he's managed to steal ever. A shiny rock, a nice tree, a car, a moose (Blitzwing wtf), someones ARM-

Will be the first personality to be vulnerable with you. This is a huge milestone. Random's jack O'lantern grin is not a permanent feature, and if he's letting you see that he's sad and tired and lonely then congratulations my friend - you are in, and the tree of them will not be letting you go for as long as they function.

#Thanks so so much for the ask!#I would actually die to date this mech I hope you like these #Thalassa responds #transformers #Blitzwing #Blitzwing x reader #maccadam

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the-consortium · 1 year

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Thank you for the tips for dealing with the Eternal Annoyance! While we are at it, how is your relationship with Eidolon going? I heard there might be some, er, tension between you two?

"Tension?" The Chief Apothecary raises a brow and turns away from his current project. One of the small mutants comes shooting out from under the table and sets about quickly wiping everything down, removing blood and spraying the surfaces with sterilium from a large plasteek bottle. A second of the creatures covers the body Fabius has been working on with a cloth and switches on a stasis field that kicks in with a high-pitched whirring and the pale blue of UV light. Fabius snorts. Expressing all the contempt of the galaxy in one sound. "Tensions! Yes, when was there not between us? Eidolon is the master of jealousy. Of everything and everyone. And even though I don't care one bit about the continued attention our esteemed sire keeps giving me at the most inopportune moments, that doesn't stop Eidolon from hating me because of it." The Chief Apothecary rubs his chin, stares into the middle ground without fixating on anything. The sounds of research on living objects - mainly muffled screams - filter faintly into his laboratory from the areas of his colleagues. "It's not that I don't appreciate his competence and determination. Every Astartes of the Third is perfection and precision embodied in his field - even if, unfortunately, many have forgotten that in order to serve their monster. His fixation on Fulgrim, on the other hand, is unfortunate and gets in the way of much of what he actually wants to achieve. But it's not my job to make him realise that. I work with him when it serves my goals and everything else is just a feeling. And unlike most of my brothers, I try not to make my decisions based on sensitivities. Eidolon is a gifted demagogue - at least when it comes to his affairs. And I suspect many of the Third see him as some kind of brilliant entertainment and diversion, which is why they follow him." A brief grimace that is hard to interpret, then he adds, "Something that could probably be said of my consortium as well. I'm afraid I have to have that much self-reflection." A shoulder shrug repeated by the Chirurgeon. "I suppose the Lord Commander Primus and I are not entirely different in some things after all."

#Warhammer #Ask Post #Roleplay #Fabius Bile #The Consortium #Chief Apothecary

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lordstarscreamluvsspikes · 4 months

Text

Starscream x Megatron (lemon)

Erm so I genuinely don't know what happened, I hope you enjoy? I'm horrible at writing smut, and sometimes I'm AMAZING with details, other times I genuinely look like a child trying to give details 💀 Anyways, enjoyyy~

Warnings: Oral, spanking, degrading, leash/pet play(?), breeding. Oh yeah there's aftercare :3

Rating: Mature

Starscream, the infamous second in command, was in his room, relaxing after a long flight. He was lying on his bed, humming and listening to soft tunes he found from an earth app. He had been gone for a while and he needed to unwind.

He heard a knock at the door, and he got up to answer it, expecting Knockout to come asking for help with buffing for the sixth time this week. It was Megatron, to his surprise. "Megatron!" The seeker exclsimed, rather excitedly as he opened the door wider. "I assume you know why I'm here?" Megatron asked, his smirk almost apparent. Starscream, who was a little too excited for his own liking, nodded. "Come- Come right in! I wasn't expecting it to be today..." He said, wings fluttering and flicking.

Megatron raised an optic ridge, crossing his arms as he walked in. "Is that so?" He asked with a bigger smirk. "Ahem, yes..." Starscream fiddled with his digits, a sheepish smile on his faceplates. "Then I expect you to know what I'm going to do to you?" He stepped closer, hooking his servo around the TIC's waist. "For... The most part..." He refused to make optic contact, until Megatron hooked a digit onto his chin and made him look. "Then bend over your berth, plates off."

As if just some drone, he obediently bent over, releasing his plates to show his half erect spike and glazed over valve. "My my Starscream, such a slut, hmm?" Megatron chuckled, using his pointer digit to swipe fluids from his puffy grey valve and lick it. "So sweet too..." Starscream awaited for the sensual pain to be inflicted upon his aft burner. When he felt nothing, he groaned and looked back. "Mm, apologies. I am merely admiring the view." Megatron chuckled, before swatting his aft. Starscream arched his backstrut, whimpering. He hit again. And again. And again, until the seeker was sobbing, wiped fluids pricking at the edges of his optics. "Dear Primus! Please my liege, no more teasing.." Sure he wanted to be spanked, but he became more and more needy for him.

Megatron pulled away, kissing his aft. He then lifted his hips, making Starscream yelp. "I think I'd much prefer a view on my face." Megatron purred seductively. Starscream opened his intake to question, before situated on the warlords faceplates. Starscream, of course embarrassed, whined and groaned, hiding his face. "I swear, you're such a te- a-aH! Lord Megatron! Frag!" He cried out, wings shooting up, optics open wide.

Megatron thoroughly enjoyed the noises he received, and he needed more. He sucked and lapped at him, growling possessively and digging his digits into Starscream's thighs and hips. Megatron felt like Primus himself had praised him with such a glory. The seeker had begged for a while now to do something intimate with him. Sure, they were getting better with their own 'friendship', but he never knew he'd quite enjoy this.

Starscream rode his face, feeling his overload begin to approach rapidly. But before he could get that last feel, feel the overload claim his valve, Megatron pulled away. "You overload only on my spike. You got that, seeker?" Megatron growled.

Starscream was tossed onto the floor, almost fully collapsing. Starscream groaned and rubbed his helm. He opened his optics, being yanked once more, and being leashed. "What in-" He groaned when his spike was stepped on. "Don't talk." He obeyed, huffing. Megatron sat on his berth, opening his panel and holding his spike. Not like he needed to, it was already so erect it stood on its own.

"Suck. Make me proud, Starscream." Starscream crawled over, gently grabbing the erection and kissing the tip. He slowly sank his intake down, taking all but maybe an inch. He gagged, optics rolling back. He slowly relaxed his frame, before moving up and down slowly. He heard the mech above him groan, and he figured that just have been good.

"Such a pathetic slut. All you do is whine and beg and act so goddamn pathetic... And mh, your spike is so small! Quite a pathetic thing. Primus I'm going to claim you in so many ways, it'll hurt when I'm done..." He pressed his pede tip against the seekers spike, slowly grinding and making the seeker whimper and whine, grind onto his pede. He sucked harder, trying to taste his fluids. And the twitching could only indicate one thing; he was close.

"Enough." Megatron growled, ripping his helm off of his spike. He gripped his chin, looking over him. He spit on his face and pushed him off. "So pathetic." The degrading should have hurt. Starscream knew that. But it didn't. It aroused him more, made him want to beg for more.

Starscream panted and looked at the mech with almost pleading optics. "Come," Megatron commended gently, letting off of his spike "sit on my lap Starscream." Starscream slowly climbed up onto him, straddling his hips. "Mm, my liege..." The seeker groaned softly, looking up to the mech. He took a slow sniff of the air, since the warlords intake was slightly open. No high-grade, no dark Energon, nothing. Maybe Megatron was just in a good mood? He waited for some response. Anything. "Starscream... Mm, you know, I've often fantasized about seeing you do submissive and vulnerable for me. Optics so heavy with lust, frame coated with condensation. Now here I am. The reason you're so submissive. What ever did I do to deserve you?" Starscream wasn't expecting to hear that. He expected something so... Kind? It wasn't exactly kind, but it was definitely kinder than 'pathetic slut'. Not that he didn't enjoy it during berth room time, but still.

"I... I don't understand the question, my liege." Starscream said softly. Megatron grunted and nodded, lifting him up and dropping him onto his spike. Starscream yelped and arched his backstrut, whining out and sobbing. He gripped Megatron's shoulders tightly, digging his slim digits into his shoulder plating.

"Primus, slag, have you always been this tight? I need to interface with you more if so..." Megatron growled out, opening his intake and clamping down into his shoulder. The bite made Starscream whine louder, frame trembling. "Lord Megatron, m- My liege, I beg of you, harder..." He said in just barely a whisper. Megatron lifted him, before slamming him down again. He continued with his harsh thrusts, hitting into him faster and harder, growling into the mechs audio receptor. "You're mine Starscream... You understand that?! You're mine!" Megatron growled possessively, frame trembling while he grasped the seeker. He craved Starscream in ways he forgot he could ever feel. He kissed the wound, licking it gently. The way he touched him made Starscream wither and desperately buck against him.

Megatron reached down to rub his outer-node, making the seeker cry louder. Starscream whimpered and sobbed, feeling washed fluids start to seep out of his closed optics. Megatron pulled him closer, rutting into him like a wild animal in heat. Starscream could only make poor excuses for words, whining and crying. He had a hard time doing much of anything, so the hard force was almost too much.

"I'm going to fucking breed you, slut... I'll make you mind once and for all. You got that?! You'll bare my sparklings like the slut you are.." Megatron growled out to him. Starscream wanted to beg. To ask for more, but all he could make was whines and loud cries of the warlords name. "Dear Primus, Megatron! Gh! Please I'm so close, I'm so close!" He managed to say after collecting himself. "Overload for me. Show me just how much you enjoy my spike!" Megatron growled louder, forcing his spike deeper. Starscream overloaded, optics whiting out. He cried in ecstasy, making a mess of pink liquid onto the sheets and his thighs. Megatron bucked up once more, completely filling the mechs tanks. "Such a good mech... So good... Mm.." Megatron he spoke softly, sighing. Megatron kissed his helm, pulling out his depressurized spike. He cradled Starscream, watching as the seeker slowly fell into recharge. He kissed Starscream, Starscream's kiss lousy. He instantly fell asleep, embraced in Megatron's arms. "Good good mech... My good mech... You're my good mech.." He spoke to him with such gentle words, his voice trembling as if afraid he would disappear. He fell asleep after a while of watching him, smiling to himself. He was content. And he didn't plan to let him go. Starscream was his, whether he liked it or not..

#megatron #megatron x Starscream #tfp starscream #tfp megatron #tfp #transformers #transformers tfp #tf #valveplug #lemon #smut #transformers smut

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