#can i even tag rodimus
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Bayverse hotrod w gn human reader who literally melts if he ever flirts w them in french???
The entire movie I just wanted- no NEEDED for him to call me either mademoiselle or monsieur whilst he flirt w me cause damn I'd honestly be so flustered to even say a coherent sentence
OMG OMG OMG, WE ARE ALIKE FR FR. I am a big big BIG bayverse!HotRod lover, i simple love all Hot Rod's but him, you are right my friend! French is jsut sooo, you can't go wrong with flirting with it. Anyways, Here is you request. Enjoy :)
Pairing: Bayverse!HotRod x GN!Human
Warning: french(I know you some ppl dont like the french), fluff,
The bot leaned into the window your desk sat in front of, perfectly situated so he could keep you company why you worked. Your fingers caught typing on your laptop, the seven tabs keeping you from talking with your dearly beloved french bot. You peeked up over the laptop, watching as his optics scanned the room for the 500th time over the years, you glanced back down at your screen but looking back up to see him now staring at you.
“You know not a single one of these pieces are as beautiful as you, mademoiselle/monsieur.”
You looked away, you had no words, all of a sudden the air felt hot. Your collared shirt was starting to get tight around your neck, your hands were starting to get sweaty, and the tab you were looking at wasn’t making any sense. You got up and turned the fan towards you, standing in front of it. Maybe it was just summer air, especially being in Europe, in an old ass castle, that doesn’t even have good ac.
“Quoi, fondant comme du chocolat, ma chérie.”
“What, melting like chocolate, My darling.”
The room was getting hotter, how on fucking earth was it doing that, your hand came up to the first few buttons on your shirt, Undoing them and then moving down to grab the fabric in a pinch and pulling away and then back again, in a attempt to cool your skin. Why did he decide today is the day, he knows exactly what he's doing after all. He made the connection, you melting to french and flirting. Sometimes he could be so evil.
His optics scanned you from the window, watching you do everything in your power to cool down, from fanning yourself with a magazine, to standing in front of the fan to also holding a fresh out of the fridge water bottle to the back of your neck. Even in the middle of a heat wave summer, and sweating your own personal pool, you still looked gorgeous to him.
You turned to go back to our desk, sitting down and pressing a few buttons to light it up. You couldn’t tell if you were hot because of the 98 degree weather or if you really were melting because of him, but either way you didn’t care. He was flirting with you, arm perched on the bottom window, leaned in and resting his helm back.
“Alright, Hot Rod, Tell me what happened again.”
Sitting up in your chair and looking through your tabs, You wanted him to continue the story, you know the one about the lady who hit him with a polo mallet. He lifted his head and nodded.
“Yes, Yes, I still forget you weren’t there.”
You nodded, typing on your computer. His story was detailed, pointing out exact moments he thought you’d enjoy. At some point he was so into this story he was waving his hands around in a frenzy explaining it. His jokes were funny, funny enough to stop you from typing and move a hand to facepalm while laughing. Your laugh, he loved it, If he could he would make you laugh all the time just to hear it. When you looked up from laughing you could see his optics staring at you, almost like a puppy and you had his treats, his treats being your laugh, your existence, your everything.
“Do that again, it’s quite cute, Mademoiselle/Monsieur.”
You melted, hands stopped typing as you got up from your desk. It’s getting hot again, extremely hot, too hot. You decided you’d do the only thing you know how, kiss him to shut up. You might die if he keeps that up, and you weren’t trying to do that. You walked over to him, placing your hand on his elbow. He watched intently before moving, the hand on his elbow lifted when you saw he was attempting to move. Fixing his posture before gently grabbing your hand with his servo and bringing it up to his lips for a kiss.
“I’ll tone it down Mademoiselle/Monsieur, can’t have you melting just yet.”
#transformers#hot rod#transformers bayverse#bayverse#bayverse hot rod#transformers x reader#tf hot rod#can i even tag rodimus#imma tag rodimus#rodimus x reader#hot rod x reader#hot rod again#stars writings#tf hot rod x reader#french robot
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its halloween month so i can draw the guy undead mode again. ignore that i also drew him when it wasnt halloween
#rodimus#transformers#maccadam#robogore/#he gets green flames because thats the colour of spooky scary things#actually its because its the colour of the spell ''poison field'' in 1997 mmorpg ultima online#i dont have an explaination for why i chose that though. not even a necromancy spell#tumblr tags r truly a 10/10 feature none of the twtter guys r gonna get this exciting commentary on rodimus ultima online poison field fire#and u can easily ignore these if u dont give a shit. and i can say whatever in here#as a fun aside. instead of having it be a main part of the post#awesome ^u^ !!!!!!!!!!
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So i'm currently working on a saucy fic concept which will be my excuse to write about mtmte rodimus getting slammed down crazystyle by whomever I want, I'll explain it more under the cut with some more nsfw concept doodles but this is also a post thats an excuse to debut my NEW warning image!!
SAFE FOR WORK STARSCREAM!!
Anyway join me for my machinations(SPOILER WARNING) down here
So you know how the list, and the survey and how half of the crew was like 'I wish rodimus wasn't the captain'? So i thought to myself, what... if rodimus was like 'I can fix this with my pussy for sure.'
And he's trying to fuck his way through the whole crew(with some notable outliers- like ultra magnus bc he knows that thats gonna ruin the whole operation) in the hopes that he'll show how giving and thoughtful a captain he is- and also because hes a whore.
and so this goes great for one chapter, and then ultra magnus finds out and, in the least sexy way possible, puts a car boot on Rodimus's panels, so he can stop committing rampant hr violations.
rodimus takes this about how one would expect
HOWEVER! This doesn't deter him, because he has an intake and a dream.
But as time progresses, and rodimus's panels stay locked, he starts to get a bit antsy, and ends up developing questionable kinks about it while he becomes more and more desperate
Eventually, Magnus also figures out that he hasn't stopped suckin even if he can't be fuckin, and uh. well yknow.
This continues until Rodimus has served his time, and probably ends with him and magnus slammin down. Idk yet though! I'm gonna have fun with it.
But anyhow, I will be taking suggestions for this fic via my ask box, or in tags and reblogs, <3
#rodimus#mtmte#transformers mtmte#Transformers#my art#/nsfw#my fic#transformers fanart#valveplug#ultra magnus#transformers idw
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I was hoping to request some more first contact Rodimus 👉🏽👈🏽 Now that him and the resident human can communicate he's learning exactly what their boundaries are. Basically him just realizing how smothered they felt and falling into a much more comfortable and tentative friendship. Maybe she even explains how she doesn't like some of the things he did like not being given a choice w the laying on top of his chest plate thing?
Aahhh I’m happy to do some TCFC!Rodimus for you! After this request I did note in my rules that if you’d like a First Contact Rodimus separate from my Too Close For Comfort series you’re more than welcome to do that, it’s explained further in depth there! But seeing as you specified events from TCFC I’m assuming you’re asking for a continuation, which I’m happy to do for you :) and for those who aren’t familiar with my Too Close For Comfort series, you can find all of the parts either in my masterlist or under the tag “#too close for comfort fic”, which is listed below!
Hope you enjoy!
Warnings: SFW, GN!Human!Reader, First Contact AU
The bots did keep their promise— the Lost Light was now headed back towards Earth. But seeing as you were lightyears upon lightyears away from your home by now, you had a feeling you had a very, very long trip ahead of you.
While part of you dreaded that fact, you at least felt some relief in that now you had a voice. Gone were the days of getting dragged along against your will, with these Cybertronians none the wiser. They could understand you, and you could understand them, all you needed now was the glue to piece those two parts together: decent communication.
And that was something that, to your surprise, both you and Rodimus were keen on upholding.
There were your high days and low days, of course. Sometimes you didn’t wanna be anywhere Rodimus— your homesickness getting the better of you and pushing you away from everyone.
But there were other days where you somehow found you adored spending time with him.
Standing high in the air up on the captain’s shoulder, watching the world race by as he merely walked. Seeing the world at his level almost made you forget you were the odd one out here. You’d feel the constant presence of the captain beside you, the feeling of every little motion he made running waves through your comparably tiny form. A small huff of air blows past you, and you turn your head upward to see Rodimus gazing at you with a small, sweet smile— huffing a small chuckle through his nose.
“What?” You ask, playfully raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms.
“Oh, nothing,” he replies nearly instantly, shifting his head back forward, but keeping his attention focused on you through the corners of his optics.
“C’mon, Rodimus— I know you well enough to know when something’s on your mind.” You lean forwards just a bit to try and make better eye contact. “Well, I mean. It’s not like you’re very subtle to begin with.”
The orange mech laughs, “Hey!” and you find yourself laughing too. “I-I dunno’, I just…”
When Rodimus trails off, your grin fades. A dark, familiar feeling stirs within you. No, you couldn’t think that way anymore— Rodimus had changed. You and he had both agreed: you had started fresh now.
“I’m… glad to see you like this,” he finishes, and you release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
You tilt your head, “What do you mean?” You had a feeling that this conversation was going to be a hefty one, so you took the opportunity to get comfortable— taking a seat upon the mech’s shoulder and dangling your legs off the side.
Rodimus struggles to find his words, stammering for a moment as he turns to look at you fully. “Not sure, I mean… seeing you happy, I guess.” When you offer another raised eyebrow and a disbelieving smile, the captain chuckles. “You know what I mean! Actually happy! And not in the way that’s just me imagining it cause I couldn’t understand you and was too worried about how cute you were.”
“What?”
“Uh— ignore that last part!” He scrambles to say, and you have to hold your stomach from how hard you ended up laughing. “Look, all this is to say is— I’m… I’m glad we’re okay now.”
Once you cool down, you look up into the mech’s blue optics and offer him a little smile of your own. “I am too. I mean, back before everything, I didn’t really feel like my own person anymore. You were nice to me, of course, but there were a lot of times where I felt… dragged along. Without any real regard for myself.”
Rodimus’ expression falls, and he looks at you with furrowed brows. “What do you mean?”
You absentmindedly fiddle with your hands as you go on, “Well, uh… take for example, that night we were going to sleep and you laid me on your chest? You might have not thought much of it, but in reality, I felt… kind of terrified.”
The captain began to slow as you spoke, and though you felt it beneath you, you didn’t let that stop you from continuing— even when he eventually came to a stop. “Your… your hand was directly on top of me and I was scared of waking you up and you putting me, like— on your neck or something,” there’s a slight chuckle to your words, but the memory still stings. You didn’t even realize you had long broken eye contact with Rodimus by now.
“But… then I felt your heartbeat underneath me, and that’s really what scared me. The fact that I’m so… small, compared to you. So small that even a natural function like that shook me to my core.”
You only manage to look up when you notice Rodimus wasn’t speaking. The sorrow you thought would be spread all over his faceplate looked more like… confusion, than anything.
“I’m sorry, ‘heartbeat’?”
You’re taken aback— you don’t think you’d have to explain something like that to him. Was he being serious? “Uh, you know. Your heart? Beats in your chest? Keeps you alive?” You pound your fist rhythmically to your chest a couple of times for good measure.
The captain only blinks. “Do… is that what you call your spark?”
“My what?”
“Your spark,” he repeats, as if it was common knowledge. “Beats in its chamber, keeps you alive.” He also pounds a servo to his chassis— the clanging metal vibrating through you and stinging your teeth.
“Okay, okay, point taken,” you laugh, and it warms your heart a little to see a smile return to Rodimus’ face. “But, really, do you get what I mean?”
“Yeah, I do. Again, I’m sorry I made you go through that,” he says earnestly, and you give him a nod of thanks. Then, a yellow servo rises before you— the mech had offered it as a platform beneath you. You gaze up at him questioningly, but when the only answer he gives is a tilt of his head, the only thing you can think to do to oblige him.
Slowly, you slide down from his shoulder and land in a crouch on his palm— and as you come to your feet, the mech brings you around and over near his chest. “In that case, I wanna’ ask,” he begins as he does so, “when I bring you near my chest at all in general, do you feel… as uncomfortable?”
Your eyes flick down from his face and over to his bright yellow chestplate. The stark red Autobot brand stares back at you.
“…no,” you decide, finally tearing your eyes away from his chest and back up to Rodimus. “No, when I’m just level like this, it’s fine.”
“Okay,” he says, and slowly, he pulls you in closer. His servo bumps against his chassis, but you’re still free to roam around in his palm. “And this?”
“No,” you answer, and with more confidence this time. Though you can hear the constant rumble of his engine churning within him, you didn’t feel put off by it. “This is fine too.”
Then, your world begins to shift around you. Rodimus’ hand tilts forward, and you have no choice but to lean your hands against his chest as you’re gently held against it. “And… this?”
You don’t respond as quickly as you did before. You didn’t even need to tune in and listen— the feeling was right there, throbbing and pulsing beneath you with just as much strength as you remembered. His heart— spark, you correct yourself— there, living within him. You feel your breath start to pick up in pace, and you nearly push yourself as far back as you can—
But then, you look upwards, and see Rodimus gazing at you. Listening intently for your next words.
You take a deep breath. “I… not for now, no,” you lightly push yourself off from his chassis and the captain takes the hint, pulling you up and away and bringing you back to his face. “Maybe… maybe with a little more time, though.”
Though you give him a smile to assure him not to worry, Rodimus’ concerned pout never changes. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says, “again, the last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable here ever again.”
You actually laugh at that, though you aren’t sure why. Rodimus— the mech who put you through the most uncomfortable scenarios all the way up until now— didn’t want you to ever feel uncomfortable again. It was… sweet.
“I know I don’t have to,” you reply, stepping forwards on his servo and closer to his face. You dare to land a hand on the tip of his nose, and though the mech blinks in surprise, he doesn’t pull back. Rather, he lifts one of his own hands and very gently places a thumb on the top of your head, running it down the back of your head in smooth, slow motions.
“But, with how we are now… I’m willing to try.”
#relic writes#too close for comfort fic#Transformers#reader insert#Transformers x reader#rodimus x reader#rodimus Prime x reader#MTMTE#more than meets the eye#mtmte x reader#lost light x reader#lost light
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you flare, you flicker, you fade (and in the end, all your tomorrows become yesterdays) [ megatron / reader ]
" I don't have a heartbeat,” She sighed sadly.
He regarded her, standing by the window. Under the half-light, her limbs look almost translucent, pale if not a little blue. That's what happens to organic skin when it oxidises to rot: tearing at the seams.
" Neither do I."
In which Megatron believes the personification of his guilt against humanity has come to haunt him in the late hours of the night.
rating: not rated, sfw! + themes & mentions of death
relationship : megatron / f!reader
fandoms: transformers (idw generation one) / idw 2005 / mtmte & lost light
characters: megatron (transformers), ratchet (transformers), terminus (transformers), rodimus | rodimus prime, minimus ambus (transformers), rung (transformers)
additional tags: angst, tangst with a happy ending, pov third person, idk how to tag this, refrences to edgar allan poe, references to ancient greek religion & lore, inspired by corpse bride by tim burton, the reader is referred as she and there's no usage of you but she/her , mentions of myth & folklore, euthanasia warning, death warning
This is reposted from ao3 as it’s quite long (3,171 words)
" She said: when will we meet?
I said: A year after the war ends.
She said: When will the war end?
I said: When we meet"
— Mahmoud Darwish
01.
After Trepan — after everything — Megatron doesn't dream. He can feel his processor spin and think during recharge, but he never dreams. And so when he dreamt for the first time, he almost forgot it was possible. Almost.
His dream was a kaleidoscope of images, a flurry, a blur. His body was moving, but he remained still, watching a memory that didn't belong to him. And he knew this because he could hear the sea.
The universal translator is too gentle. There wasn't a word to describe the great ‘seas’ of Cybertron. Back when he toiled under Nova Point, he assumed — like everybody else —that liquid water was a rumour. And then he saw it, deep, silver mercury, unlike anything, roaring beneath the horizon. Yet he dreams of a sea he never saw, dark and vacuum, sealed under a storm.
Rodimus banged on his door. He was forcibly woken. Even when they were talking by his doorway, Megatron could taste salt in his denta: so foreign his intake nearly rejects it.
02.
It started with the humming. It was so quiet that Megatron wouldn't have registered it if it wasn't for how foreign it sounded: non-mechanical and soft. Too soft. A glitch in his audials was likely, with the fool's energon slowing his processor. Yet he remained sharp, vigilant the moment the sound rang from down the hall. As he tried to listen to the silence, the ship thrummed underneath his pedes. Everything else was in the right place: electric, electronic, the usual clicks from the coolers, the vents drumming above. And yet the tune remains, faint if not fading. Drift was soundless. And he was trying to focus. So when the mech asked him what was wrong, Megatron blamed the startle on the fool's energon.
03.
She watches him from the corner of his peripheral. Playful. Shy. His optics drifted from the PADD — carefully, to not alarm Minimus — to make sense of her. Ratchet said internal hemorrhaging of the wires could lead to hallucinations, where the cyberium that lined his cables would inflate and leak; poisoning the Energon.
Behind him, she waved, wrist and elbow sharp and jutting, in contrast to the smooth, metal backdrop of the office. He diverted his attention to the conversation just in time. And when Megatron raised his helm again, she was gone.
Ratchet gave him the clear; he wasn't in any way incapacitated. And when he tells the CMO about tasting salt in the back of his intake, all he gets is a funny look.
04.
Cybertronians don't have taste receptors for sodium chloride: ‘salty’ doesn't exist in their vernacular, only recently introduced through the translator. The closest word they have to describing Energon is that it burns. Just a little bit. Alkali and acid dissolving against the dentae: bubbling like sea foam against the sand.
05.
She is the name of the unknown. She died in Cybertron many, many years ago — in a time before him, in a time before the war. So those who walked after her used the pronoun to describe the unfounded. Those without dichotomy, those without truth. The Lost Light is she, and so is the vastness of space. Nautica — who is she, herself — refers to her unsolved equations as her, and so does Perceptor. She is the graveyard of hypotheses, waiting to be kissed alive.
So it’s only natural for Megatron to think she 's lab-made. An experiment went wrong, a failed refraction of light. Brainstorm did say he was experimenting with holoforms. And yet the scientist never recharges in his room down the hallway: always too busy and never wanting to be alone. So Megatron observes her like she is a creature out of a petri dish.
The ghost blinks. Once. Twice — eyelashes, batting against her rotting cheeks.
It's rude to stare. She laughed. The sound was an airy, feathered thing.
She doesn't seem perturbed by the fact that the left side of her jaw is hanging by the threads of a torn muscle. With the epidermis of her chin loose and gorged, he could inside her anatomy.
Dark red and wet, not even Brainstorm would replicate something like this.
Forgive me.
She held the wilted bouquet in her hands a little bit tighter.
It's usually bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding. Do you believe in that?
Megatron doesn't know what he believes. He lies on his slab with her sitting by his window, and he thinks of the question as recharge swallows him whole. He was on a ship, lightyears away, and all he could think of was the texture of her throat as it flakes and cracks.
He doesn't believe in bad luck, yet humans have many names for it: karma, kismet. Megatron wonders by which name he should call her.
06.
It takes him milliseconds to learn. Everything he needed to know about humans was handed to him on a silver platter, convenient and superior. Is this why he had thought of himself so high compared to them? Self-fulfilling prophecies who were so Darwinian and slow and stuck in their ways.
(Yet, in the end, weren't they like that as well? Eons to live for, and yet they waste it on killing one another. He wasted it.)
He has lived through the birth of her first rivers, the christening of her people, and the rise and fall of empires as they pile atop one another. The passing of thousands of eclipses that humans can only dream of witnessing once within their finite lifespans — and yet here he was.
The humans would call him Icarian; held together by wax and pretending it was metal, plunging to his hypocrisy as he strays further from the sun.
07.
Why a thing so innocuous? So naive and so docile.
A girl in a wedding gown.
Even when his mind tries to conjure up something beautiful, he still finds a way to corrupt it. Maybe that's why she's undead, ribcages peeking out of the tear of her dress yet never heaving to breathe. He buried his guilt, and she decayed. It's perverse and he loathes himself for it.
Megatron tells himself that's why she's here. To make him answer for corrupting her soil, and even if his pillage on Earth felt like a lifetime ago, he remembers.
The only bride that he could think of was a dead one. What does that say about him?
Without Soundwave, at least not directly, he was safe in the knowledge that no one aboard the ship could spy into his thoughts. They would find him appalling — more than they already did.It was a good thing that she very rarely approaches him when he’s outside his quarters. And in the rare instances she did, no one would acknowledge her.
The end of her dress, dragging across the floor.
Ravage tries to convince him he’s been tampered with, that it’s shadowplay. He threatens to tell Soundwave and Megatron lets him. He tells him to do whatever he wants, as long as he leaves them alone — unless, of course, he’s content with listening to an invisible orator. And so the panther slinks back into the dark resentfully, muttering to himself about how the mighty Megatron’s gone mad.
He has, hasn’t he?
08.
She remembers nothing except the ocean, cold and majestic. Where she emerged from the tides — and he notes that her predecessor, their goddess of love, was also born out of foam — flush with the sheen of the sea.
Then is grief born out of the sea? Megatron thinks. Did the Olympian create it at the same time she created love?
No. But people fight for love and love to fight. So love married war. She explained. The dyads then became synonymous.
And is that what we are? He asked her. A sequence of two, bind together to marry?
She smiled at him — bright enough to distract Megatron from the bone of her jaw that shifted from the movement. Until death do us part.
He wanted to laugh.
09.
Terminus told him the ancient world was pitch black, and if anyone from today were to travel back in time to witness it, the emptiness would blind their optics if not drive them mad. A shadow so greedy that it crowds the air with its emptiness. That time, Megatron had briefly wondered if such nothingness existed. Yet, the same darkness had forged Solus: intelligent and beautiful, she was one of the first, flares of light.
He thinks of the Prime as she offlines at the hilt of Megatronus' Star Saber. And even in her death, the last words she spoke were about love. Was that the start of the chain reactions that lit up Cybertron? Which of the two sparked the lucidity that charged life into the millions of dormant sparks? Her death or her love?
(He has to remind himself that the same love killed her.)
10.
The truth is symmetrical, cogs in the right places. Perceptor argued.
Nautica rubs the side of her helm with both servos. Her tools, messy on top of the table.
Yes, but you see, we won’t be travelling in linear time. We’re planning to break free from that. If symmetry is your truth then where will that leave us once we go on a loop?
Something inside him hitched. Oh.
All optics were on him.
What? Rodimus urged.
Nothing. He lied. I didn't know we could get stuck in time.
That’s what happens when you don’t move on. Brainstorm shrugs. Time freezes you. So you have to learn how to melt it.
11.
She says she feels cold. He assumed she felt nothing, numb as she fluttered her fingers experimentally on the shell of his armor. Numb with the same indifference she had with the lack of oxygen aboard the ship.
He didn’t stop her, trying to etch the feel of her curious touch. It felt like nothing, feather-like and ghosting across the surface like a stray draft of wind. He has to mentally fill in the gaps himself, and if Megatron thinks hard enough, he can pretend the warmth exists. That it lingers and clings to him.
Her fingers run along the ridge of his chin and the underside of his palm. Yet he's still not enough to chase away the cold.
No matter how hard she tries, her kindness has no source in his stout and unyielding world. And so he is left to wonder what it would be like if she didn’t oscillate in and out of time and space. To feel her, whole and alive, would be mercy. That would be unfair.
Time and time again, he'd ask her: why are you here?
I'm waiting for my husband. She'd tell him, small against his open palms. We're going home.
Megatron feels as if the air compresses when she speaks.
Where is home? He'd ask her. Intake dry as he swallows salt.
The darkness of his habsuite doesn’t seem to touch her features, which appear bright, as if a private sun were hanging above her brow. She'd motion for him to come closer and brush her tiny lips against his. It felt like nothing. She was a shadow that had casted herself across his face.
The sea.
12.
Megatron observes the little trinkets littered across Rung's office. They were tidy and upright, great big ships, each marking well-known voyages and exoduses. He imagines them cutting through the galaxy's undercurrent, great, metallic sails, reeling through the vortex of nothing.
Then he catches it, the small, black figure tucked away at the top-right corner of his shelf.
Rung turns around in his chair to follow his line of vision.
The humans call it a raven. Of course, they don't come in the same size. They're small, as are all things Earth.
Laserbeak is sleek and sharp. Sentio-Metallico down to his core. Yet this bird — the real one — is a void with shadows. Slender beaks made of meat, and bone for claws.
Humans called them omens.
And who would gift you a warning?
The psychiatrist looks out the window, round-rimmed glasses, clever under the light.
I don't remember. He lies, and the next time Megatron enters his office two days later, the bird is nowhere to be seen.
13.
If she is born out of the sea, then that must make her a siren. She still hums a tune he’s never heard before. And it did lure him. And when Megatron tells her this, she shakes her head.
But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more.
Cybertronians don’t cry either. He told her. And the look she gave him was withering as if he had trapped all the light and left her to sit in the dark. He was, after all, empty if not made of black holes. Is that why his spark feels heavy all the time, dense with the magnitude of his sins? And when the weight becomes unbearable, he tears himself apart, and with it he cuts through the fabric of space. The anti-matter was now leaking out of his optics, crawling past the sutures, wringing him iode by iode.
Someone was calling him, but he couldn’t hear. The forcefield was cracking, shattering with him.
It was excruciating. Yet amidst the throes, he feels it, the light-headedness, the gradual rise and lull — in a way, he was crying. Maybe he was also made of oceans.
14.
Megatron found a flaw in her story. Love didn’t marry War, and before they eloped, Love had married Creation; Solus has always been fond of metallurgy. That was her alchemy. And Venus used to seek refuge in the fire of her husband’s forge. Yet she was unhappy — why is that?
Why was he?
You could have been a creator. His corpse bride mused. That’s why you wrote.
I still do .
Do goddesses feel remorse? He thought maybe she didn't. War seduced her. And she had let him corrupt and penetrate and ravish. Megatron reminds himself it was symbiotic; she loved his wrath and his power. The Sun was their witness, and he claims she was unhappy because Creation was unkind to her. So she stared into the abyss.
And Megatron understood.
He thought of staying idle and evanesce under the mines, private and forgotten, without having dented the surface of his homeland. Now they tell stories of him, and his name is forever carved into the macrocosm. If not by words through wounds. And as the universe ages into senescence, will the pain — which echoes and expands like the gases under Croteus 12 — continue to bleed through generations to come?
Outside, he could see the field of flowers. Ebullient blue, swaying gently with the wind. With the sun on the horizon and dusk to chase away the chaos of the night, Megatron stared at Terminus, worn and confused — and refused.
This won't be my legacy .
15.
In another life, she promised, you could be a creator .
And what will I create ?
She was small, so small that he had to lift her up to his face, where she could make a motion to hug the side of his cheek with her body.
(Destiny had always made him feel small, she even more so.)
Love. You will love me.
He supposed that’s possible. He wanted, once a very long time ago, to be a medic. And maybe he could even be an explorer as he was aboard the Lost Light. Searching for lost things. Searching for her.
The blue, luminescent light above him flickered. And even higher above — two, three levels up in the sentencing chamber — the jury was deciding his fate. Footfalls chased away the sound of the sea. And so he pulled out his Rodimus star, crumpled and yellow, sitting in the middle of his palm.
She smiled sadly at that.
And will I love you well ? He asked.
You know you will.
16.
It’s like falling asleep. She promises.
He was falling into recharge, but the word sounded garish, rough. Sleep sounded more like drifting. Sinking. She was there when he laid across the slab, where the monitors beeped and chirped as they pumped fluids into his cable — and he let them, drawing the curtains close.
She tells him to inhale, teaching him how to breathe. (The juxtaposition of it all made him smile inwards.) And when the air rushes past his intake, he could taste it again. The pull, the push, the hum of the great, big tides. They roll and crash into the sand, disappearing into froth. He dreams of standing across her, now at the same height, face to face.
No longer was he her resting ground to haunt.
On the branch of a tree that appeared above him, a raven swooped down. The beating of her wings, tumbling through the mist.
My dear , the creature spoke. He belongs to the gardens with the rest of my brother's creations . You belong to the sea. With me.
His bride was pleading, telling her that life has parted them, so it would only be right for them to be joined here.
And as if pausing to give her words a thought, the Raven turned to the west and crowed. Though you may not remember it, we have been here before. It will only be fair if I would send you both back. But know that the end stays the same. What is mine is mine, and what is my brother's is his.
Megatron doesn’t dream, but now he lives in one — where reality is no more than a distant memory, an echo from another, linear time. And so the ferryman lets Megatron guide his bride atop the boat, so they can sail out together, into the sea.
17.
De ja vu , she called it. A memory she had lived through before, even if it wasn't hers.
We are traveling in a loop. It's true. The quantum jump had worked, and now they all live in a forever dream, conjured up by Brainstorm and Perceptor's simpatico. The Earthling ran a nervous hand down the creases of her clothes, hesitant with her next question. Yet, Megatron was patient. (Waiting, it was as if they were both used to that.)
I think we met in a previous life.
The glass atop the tabletop gleamed, and in the space of Swerve's bar — where the bartender was too far away to intrude — Megatron could hear the song of the ocean. There was no point in lying. He did come looking for her. And here she was, whole.
I think we did.
"And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea."
— Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
#happy late halloween lol#transformers#transformers idw#idw mtmte#idw transformers#maccadams#transformers x reader#transformers x you#tf mtmte#mtmte#transformers mtmte#mtmte x reader#mtmte one shots#lost light#transformers lost light#tf headcanons#tf imagines#tf idw#transformers headcanons#transformers hc#tf hc#lost light x reader#lost light au#transformers one shot#megatron idw#megatron#megatron x reader#megatron / reader#one shot
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I would like to congratulate you, you have a Magnus anon, Optimus anon and Now me, horny drift anon
Listen man I just think after all the shit he's been through Drift deserves to be dicked down like no tomorrow.
Merformers right, now hear me out here, I'm a firm believer Mers can have more then one mate and that mate can have one then one mate.
So Drift, a mer that got hurt winds up moved into a tank with a angel fish, a octomer and a flying fish(fucking rodimus is fast as fuck bro)
Drifts 100% giving either swordfish or Koy fish vibes.
Anyway Drift gotta get used to em sometime right? He's agressive at first, snapping at anyone who gets close to him.
But over time as he heals he grows used to them, He spends time with them by the elves first..but slowly comes around, over time ya know they court one another and wind up as mates, which 100% would confused the fuck outta the staff.
Weeks Later Drifts in heat and oh boy did the staff fuck up, and that tank is to be left alone, why? Drifts getting stuffed with transfluid by Wing, Rodimus and Ratchet
Which over the next few weeks happens a lot. And yes the staff have taken notes..for reaserch of course, totally. Until Drifts all round and stuffed with a big litter of pups
YES i have a weird soft spot for wing/drift/ratchet/rodimus like it kind of lives in my head a little bit, though i rarely see any content for this legendary foursome (which i understand, honestly) so to tug on my strings like this… hrghhh
Drift accepting the rag-tag group of mixed species mers in his tank as mates and causing the facility staff to panic a little bit because oh fuck what if they fucked up. Because merformers are still new to them and they have no idea if mers normally pick partners outside of their genotype or what kind of repercussions on the ecosystem this would have (obviously mer go cross-species all the time, they just don’t know that). But nonetheless it’s too late for them to do anything, the four are inseparable and seem to have gotten deeply territorial. Soon enough it turns out it’s because Drift is going into heat and this means they can’t allow any outside threats in, even if they’ve known the facility staff for years now (instincts are difficult to reason with…)
After a while Drift literally can’t swim an inch without one of his mates snatching him up and fucking him until he’s shaking. Not that he minds, his gestation tank is at its happiest when full of transfluid. His valve is always throbbing now, eager to take in spike after spike, load after load, until he’s finally, blissfully heavy with pups, and getting pampered by his three mates at all times <3
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Oh man now that I've seen TWO asks this day about Soundwave dying, is that the inevitable conclusion to this fic? Did I miss this big spoiler somewhere or all the clues to it? I don't remember seeing a "Major character death" tag, either.
Or is this people speculating and doing "what if"? ...not that I'd be adverse to it, especially if it made sense to do so!
Also I completely understand about work sapping all creative juices. While I don't write (I've dabbled in the past, but little 3k words or less things for OC's way back in the LJ days), I used to sketch, draw, paint nearly every day for hours before I ended up in a corporate 9-5, full time job. Even doing customer service jobs, I was able to sketch on napkins and scrap receipt paper and sticky notes.. and now I just.. can't. Its unbelievable how mentally draining full time jobs can be. Every now and then I'll get the sketch pad or watercolors out,but it's maybe once or twice a year now.
I've seen writers who do ko-fi for tips or writing commissions for certain stories (I remember a tf author I used to follow did this - where a story was only continued if the chapters were commissioned) - or even patreons, where they set up an early access to the newer chapters, and the cut scenes, additional content - have you thought about those? I think you've got a big enough following where it could be feasible to go part time! And maybe fund a self publishing of an original work sometime down the road!
>is that the inevitable conclusion to this fic? Did I miss this big spoiler somewhere or all the clues to it? I don't remember seeing a "Major character death" tag, either.
The major tag on the fic is "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings." You haven't missed a big spoiler or clues. The influx of "WHAT IF HE DIES" was puzzling to me, too, but I rolled with it.
I'm curious why people think Soundwave is going to die, when one of the major themes of the fic (at least to me, inside my head) is bringing people back from the dead. Not literally, of course. But... but did they see the whole point of what Rodimus is doing? Trailbreaker, Ambulon, and Mirage? Skywarp? Literally pulling Soundwave from the shadow zone, where life is not worth living?
There's actually a lot more I want to say on this, but I don't want to spoil the story. I have a FAQ planned for when the fic is done and I address death in it, and my approach to writing it vs JRO, and the aforementioned major theme.
I'm guessssssssinnnnnnng people are going the doom route because of the Scavengers, and because Soundwave keeps getting injured and can't be healed, and because... ? I feel like stakes have been high in the past, so maybe that's part of it, too. I won't say anything else for now, though.
This post got long so I'll put the rest under a cut.
>Its unbelievable how mentally draining full time jobs can be.
good god, yeah. low key, I used to be an artist (mostly hobbyist, a few pro jobs). I gave up and went back to writing because it's much easier/comes more naturally to me, and that's all I have energy for. I fuckin' mourned stopping art, to be honest. but you know what, I'd rather have Echo Garden than slog through commissions. I learned I'd rather create my own things than do things other people want me to do. so I guess learning that about myself was ... good. it's absolutely unbelievable how draining a 9-5 job is. I will admit I am jealous of people who have spouses or understanding parents that allow them to do art full time by providing a safety net in the form of housing and health insurance. jealousy is very human, you know :D surely there is a better balance out there for us ;A;
>I remember a tf author I used to follow did this - where a story was only continued if the chapters were commissioned
oooohhhhhhhh you know... I get it. I get people need money. but that doesn't sit right with me. I would not withhold fic like that.
>patreons, where they set up an early access to the newer chapters, and the cut scenes, additional content - have you thought about those?
I've thought about it only in the fanciful sense. To be honest, unless I was getting enough support to quit my job, it's not really going to change my life. Like, how do I say this. I won't have any more additional time in the week to write if I make $50 extra/month through patreon. I'll still be doing my full time job AND I'll have an obligation to write for people. Does that make sense? Unless a patreon offsets the actually draining thing in my life, it's just another thing I have to do.
Although 'early access to chapters' sits way better with me than denying future chapters UNLESS funded. Though paying for fic is a huge gray area and I don't think it's wise to poke that beast...
>I think you've got a big enough following where it could be feasible to go part time!
thank you, I appreciate your kindness here :D I don't think my following is big enough, though. I think the readership is maybe 1400 people? and a bunch of those are minors and most of the adult fandom is fucking broke, lol. (the tf fans with the money tend to be the major toy buying ones, not the fanfic reading ones. Stereotype, but that's my observation)
and part of the problem is my place of employment. I asked, years ago, if I could go part time (so I could practice art) and my boss said no. it's a full time only position ;A; which is why I say, unless patreon can fully support me, it's not really feasible. freelancing incurs a higher tax rate and you don't have any health insurance, so I'd actually have to make more than I am now... and given the number of absolutely fantastic fan artists I see struggling to make it with patreon, I know I can't (since fan artists make more than fan writers)
I hope that my answers don't sound dismissive. Thank you very much for your empathy and kind ideas. I don't think the fandom can support me monetarily in the way I would need, and I think their interest in me will drop as soon as Echo Garden is finished. I base this statement on the fact that TEG has exponentially higher stats than any of my other fics.
The people clearly want only one thing, and it will eventually end xD
If you or anyone else thinks I'm looking at this wrong and there may actually be a way I can write without dying, please let me know. I've thought about this for years and the above is what I've concluded.
Thank you again for the kind ask! <3
#long post#ask#creepygoth666#on writing and the reality of the day job#maybe I'm too pessimistic#if only I had a sugar spouse... lol
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One More?
This fic is for a trade with @xstrawberry-sorbetx ! I hope you like it :D
Megarod
Rating: Explicit
Tags: Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Multiple Orgasms, Aftercare, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Summary: Rodimus often doesn't know his limits, but Megatron always knows just how far he can push his frame. And he never leaves him unsatisfied.
Also on AO3
Rodimus had long since screamed himself hoarse. His lover's name croaked from his overused voicebox between shaking ventilations and gasps. Their plating rattled together and created a never ending cacophony of ecstasy.
Megatron was the only thing keeping him in place. His huge, hulking frame dwarfing his own, his sheer weight making his strength moot when Rodimus had no chance of dislodging him.
And he tried to no avail. Not willingly. No, he wanted absolutely everything Megatron was giving him—more even—but his cursed frame kept trying to squirm away. Too much, too much, it complained. His node throbbed to the point of numbness under its constant abuse from the vibrator strapped there.
He was on his third. The first two had run out of batteries and had given him brief reprieve.
But even then, he’d begged for more.
“Megs, please, I can’t—I want—nnh!” Rodimus' words came fast and disjointed. Unfinished thoughts from a processor on the fritz from overbearing pleasure.
“Shh…” Megatron’s voice, in stark contrast, was calm and static-free. It flowed into Rodimus’ audials and soothed the chaos he’d been enduring. “Yes, you can. Because you’re my good boy. You’re doing so well, Rodimus.”
He thought he might lose consciousness. Every passing moment felt like too much for his mortal frame, burning ever hotter. One of his cooling fans had spun itself to oblivion, while the others roared in vain. His plating, too, puffed out—or attempted to—trying to rid him of this excess heat. But he’d only find relief once Megatron allowed him relief.
Overload crashed through his systems and forced him into a hard reset. When he came to, Megatron hadn't stopped the push of his hips, pressing him deeper into the berth.
"How many was that? Five? I think that's a new record for you," Megatron purred in his audial.
Rodimus could do nothing but whimper.
"I bet you could do one more."
Rodimus made a choking sound as tears pricked at the corners of his optics. His calipers rippled from the abuse, lubricant gushing from his valve as Megatron's spike slammed home again and again.
"Would you like to come again for me, my love?" Megatron asked in a sweet voice to the depraved display beneath him.
Rodimus nodded emphatically.
Despite the many warnings littering his HUD, Rodimus felt safe in the strong arms that wrapped protectively around his frame. Though he wiggled, his frame trying to escape the too-much feeling, Megatron held him right where he wanted him. And right where Rodimus wanted to be.
Megatron slipped from his valve as he flipped them. Rodimus sobbed with relief, but clenched down on air as he mourned the emptiness. Never one to leave him unfulfilled, Megatron easily sat Rodimus down on his length.
Rodimus stuttered through Megatron's name. He clawed at whatever he could get his hands on, but he couldn't get any purchase. Held firm by his thighs, Megatron all but used his frame as a frag toy.
"I've got you," Megatron whispered.
Rodimus shuddered. He felt wonderfully out of control.
"F-fuck, Megs, mm…"
With all the focus on his array, Rodimus flinched at the kiss Megatron planted on his finial. He let out a high pitched note of pleasure while his thighs quaked, but Megatron held him steady.
"Easy…"
He'd lost complete control of his frame. Completely at Megatron's mercy. But he knew he'd take care of him. He knew the mech holding him—the mech ravishing him—would keep him safe. Even as Rodimus' frame told him that he needed to stop, Megatron knew his true limits.
And he hadn't reached them yet.
"Look at you," Megatron whispered in his audial. "Dripping for me. You take me so well, Rodimus. Such a good boy."
Another overload, this one not as intense, surged through Rodimus’ lines. Megatron didn’t even notice with all the noise Rodimus was making and how his calipers twitched and clenched even between climaxes. But it left Rodimus strutless, his limbs becoming dead weight.
Megatron’s spike met no resistance as he thrust up into the sopping metalmesh, splattering lubricant across their thighs and adding to the debauched mess that was their berth.
With every hit of his ceiling nodes, Rodimus lost more of what little sanity remained. The world around him turned to static. His existence began and ended with scarred gray plating and hands that nearly wrapped around the entirety of his slippery thighs.
“I want to see your face,” Megatron decided aloud.
Rodimus could do nothing but groan as he was left mercifully and horribly empty. Megatron didn’t leave him wanting, though. He carefully laid him down, even avoiding whatever mess he could, and sheathing himself inside his rippling channel. He fucked him hard, but not carelessly so. Each slam of Megatron’s hips sparked his ceiling nodes and dragged more desperate moans from Rodimus’ voicebox.
Megatron grabbed Rodimus’ legs under his knees, folding him and getting just that much deeper. It was impressive that he kept his grip, given how they were shaking and slick. Rodimus’ plating rattled wherever they touched.
“Megs, p-please,” Rodimus said desperately, not even knowing what he was begging for. “I need—need!” The static in his voice made his words nearly indecipherable.
“Hush, my love,” Megatron whispered to his mewling little Prime. “I know exactly what you need.”
Coolant streaked his cheeks and dripped into the mess of oral solvent. Rodimus’ HUD tinted the world red with warnings, but he knew he didn’t have to worry about any of them. Megatron had him.
Rodimus was given little warning before he was shrieking in overload, his aching calipers clamping down on the relentless spike spreading him open. He writhed in the condensation-soaked sheets, babbling incoherently. But no matter how he moved, Megatron held him, never stopping.
When he got the slightest control of his frame, all Rodimus could do was cry out his lover’s name in quick succession while the aftershocks rippled along his array. At some point his spike had sprung free, dribbling prefluid.
Megatron wasted no time in wrapping his hand around it and bringing Rodimus to another climax, coating him in his own transfluid. It stayed erect, still twitching and spurting out whatever remained in his tanks.
“Beautiful,” Megatron whispered. “I love seeing you like this.”
Rodimus tried to meet Megatron’s gaze, but he couldn’t hold it. His vision blurred as the ecstasy forced them to roll back into his helm, panting.
“Not done yet, are you?” Megatron purred to his shivering, fluid-drenched mess of a conjunx. “What do you think, hm? One more?”
Rodimus’ processor and array ached at the prospect. But no matter how tired, how sore, how delirious, when Megatron asked for one more, he’d give him one more.
Even if it was the third “one more.”
“Keep fucking me,” Rodimus managed to string together.
With a pleased hum, Megatron lowered himself, hips still pistoning, to give Rodimus an incredibly chaste kiss, given the situation. “Good boy,” he whispered against quivering lips.
Rodimus wasn’t even aware he was moving until he was once again sat in Megatron’s lap, this time facing him. He only noticed how his valve ached from emptiness, and then ached from Megatron’s girth filling him up.
“Hold on,” Megatron gently instructed.
Little strength found his limbs, but Rodimus readily obeyed, wrapping his arms around his neck. He clung on like his life depended on it.
“So good for me,” Megatron praised. He tenderly stroked Rodimus’ spinal strut and sent a shiver running down his back. “Don’t let go or hold back. I’m going to fuck your pretty little valve until you overload for me one more time, and then I won’t stop until I come inside of you.”
In spite of his overwhelming exhaustion and numbing nodes, Rodimus rocked his hips.
“Don’t move. Just hold on.”
Rodimus did as he was told, choking out a sob when Megatron started with slow, methodical thrusts. Each and every aching node protested. He had half a processor to beg Megatron to pull out, but he would never voice such thoughts.
“I’ll be so good for you,” Rodimus whispered.
Megatron gripped his aft with need as he moved a little faster, but not fast enough. Never enough.
“Please, please, I’ll be so good,” Rodimus begged. “Please, please, please.”
Rodimus choked on Megatron’s name as he gave him what he wanted—what he needed. His valve felt molded to the shape of Megatron’s spike. Like he would never be complete without it.
He shook violently. His strength ebbed, but he held on.
Megatron’s arms constricted around him, holding him flush. He pounded into his abused valve, mouthing at his finials. Between kisses and licks, he whispered Rodimus’ name over and over.
“Come for me, love,” Megatron said, his voice finally showing some strain.
Rodimus’ frame betrayed him and did its level best to squirm away from the too-good feeling. But he didn’t let go. He relished in how full he felt. In how Megatron’s ventilations grew ragged and his movements less careful. He slammed into his valve with reckless abandon and Rodimus could do nothing but shake and moan.
The wave of his overload crashed into his systems, and whatever words Rodimus intended to say were lost as his voicebox finally gave out. Not even static escaped his mouth, open wide in a silent cry. He felt his consciousness slipping, but before he shut down, he felt hot, thick spurts of transfluid stuffing his valve.
Rodimus came online slowly. He became aware of Megatron’s hands on him before he could see him. He blinked sluggishly, lifting his helm. It took nearly all of his strength to do just that.
Megatron’s hand moved from his waist to his cheek, which made it much easier to look into crimson optics glowing with love.
“How are you feeling?”
Blinking a bit more, Rodimus shifted slightly, feeling the blanket wrapped around his frame shift along his plating. His clean plating. But he also felt just how much he ached.
“Sore,” he said.
“Bad sore or good sore?”
Rodimus smiled. “Fucking amazing sore.”
Megatron chuckled. “You were so good for me.” He pressed a kiss just next to his audial, then whispered, “And incredibly sexy. I love watching you come undone.”
A fresh burst of arousal made Rodimus groan.
“And I love you,” Megatron said.
“I love you, too.”
“What would you like to do? Watch a movie? Take a bath? Go right to sleep?”
“Movie and cuddles,” Rodimus said.
“Done and done. I already have Die Hard ready, if you wish to subject me to that again.”
“You know I’m always down for Die Hard.” Rodimus snuggled closer, shutting his optics.
It truly didn't matter what the movie was, though, because he always fell asleep before the end of the first scene. Then Megatron would carry him to berth, pull him close, and they'd drift off together. And Rodimus would wake the next morning, wrapped up with his conjunx, with pure bliss coursing through his lines.
These sessions were one of the few times that Rodimus would wake up first, but he'd always pretend to be asleep until Megatron stirred. Because then Megatron would pepper his face with kisses, gently rousing him. He'd also bring him his morning ration in berth and they'd slowly wake up together, knowing that they had nowhere to be for the rest of the day.
It was these mornings—these moments—that Rodimus was eternally grateful to be in a universe that didn't know their names.
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holy fuck I can't believe you're reading mtmte, it's such a niche fandom. who are your favorites, aside from Megatron, that is?
OMG yes!!!! After inhaling all of Astolat's Transformers fics I was at a con complaining about how I wanted more to read. I had tried to muddle through AO3 on my own - dipping my toe into the "Transformers - All Media Types" tag - but was too overwhelmed by so many characters I didn't recognize and gave up. A very helpful fan pointed me in the direction of the IDW / James Roberts comics and I was in love. Wacky ensemble sitcom shenanigans! Community (the TV show) references! Fantastically enjoyable!
My favorite character is Whirl. I just think he's neat! He wants to make things! But he can't anymore! He's very dysfunctional and it's great. I am obsessed!
The whole ensemble is a real treat. Brainstorm and Perceptor are super fun - who can resist science buddies!!?!? Ratchet is fantastic - I always have such a soft spot for the grumpy medic character. OK now I'm just listing characters: Rung! Nightbeat! Swerve! I even eventually warmed up to Rodimus Prime, which was a surprise. So many good characters!!!!
Thanks for the ask, anon! Feel free to tell me your favorite characters / rec fic / etc!!
#transformers#fandoms that don't show up on my dash nearly enough#i should do something about that#time to go trawling for tf blogs again
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Rise of the TMNT X TFA: Former cybertronian gladiator!Splinter(Lou Jitsu) AU: One-shot 3 - A Blast From the Past(Ultra Magnus’s version)
One-shot 2: A Blast From the past (Splinter’s version)
AU concept
Warning : English is not my first language so sorry if it's confusing ! 😅
Hi everyone! Here's another one-shot I wrote for the AU! ^^
This one-shot will be about Ultra Magnus's pov about Lou Jitsu and his past as a gladiator cybertronian! ^^
(I hope I got the characters right! Sorry if it appear a bit OOC and/or confusing! T_T)
If you want to use this AU go ahead, just tag/credite me in return please! ^^
--------------------------------------------------------------
Ultra Magnus was in his office looking at the latest report he received from some of his autobots teams.
From what the report said, Decepticon activities were becoming more and more frequent with autobots teams being attacked and reports like this keep adding up to the pile.
The Magnus was about to look up another report when the voice of one of his secretaries in his communicator interrupted him.
"- Ultra Magnus sir? I'm sorry to disturb you in your work but Team Athenia came back from their mission on the space bridge 687-030 and Rodimus Prime is here to give his team's report !"
Ah yes, Ultra Magnus remembers this mission! The space bridge 687-030 was threatened to be taken by the Decepticon team "team Chaar" and team Athenia had been sent to defend it.
"-Tell him he can enter!" The Magnus answered solemnly.
"- Very well sir! "
A few nano-seconds later, Rodimus Prime entered the office, his face was professionally neutral not showing a bit of disappointment nor of satisfaction.
For Ultra Magnus this was a good sign, usually, even the most experienced and professional autobots tend to show disappointment when a mission had gone wrong so that Rodimus Prime showed neither disappointment nor satisfaction more than certainly meant that the mission did go well.
However, when he looked closely he noticed something behind the young Prime’s professional mask.
He seemed to be… Confused and hesitant?
“-Rodimus Prime reporting sir!” The young Prime saluted.
"-At ease Rodimus Prime !" Ultra Magnus answered."I could guess that the mission was a success?"
“-Affirmative sir!” Rodimus confirmed."The space bridge have been secured and the decepticons team who attacked us had been defeated! However the way which permit us to turn the situation to our advantage was… Weird?”
“-What do you mean?” The Magnus asked, confused.
“-Well, we were fighting the Decepticons and, to be honest sir, the situation was not at our advantage, when unknown neutral mechs came out out of nowhere and had fought the Decepticons and beat them with fighting techniques we had never saw before! Once the Decepticons retreated, we tried to interrogate those mechs but they disappeared before we could ask any question!”
“-Unknown fighting techniques?”
“Yes, sir! It looked similar to ninjabots fighting techniques but at the same time it was very different!”
“-I see…” Ultra Magnus answered thoughtfully.”Did you or your team noticed anything with those mechs which could give a clue about who they are or at least which faction they belong to?”
“-Well, not really… The only things we saw with those mechs is that none of them were wearing one of the two factions’s symbols so they’re more then probably neutrals, two of them were warframes and the other two civilframes…”
This interpellated Ultra Magnus, even among neutrals it was unusual for warframes and civilframes to willingly team up together.
“-...And there was also a battle cry they were often shooting during their fight! If I remember well it was… “hot soup”!”
Ultra Magnus froze at the two words, to Rodimus’s shock, the Magnus was staring at him with wide optics and a stunned expression the young Prime never saw on his superior before.
“...Hot Soup?...” Ultra Magnus repeated in a shocked whisper.
Rodimus Prime, still confused by the situation, noticed the whole room becoming silent and when looking around noticed much to his surprise that all everybot else present in the room were all staring at them in shock, one staff member even unconsciously dropped the datapads he was holding due to the shock.
This confused Rodimus Prime even more, what was going on with them? Was that something he said?
“-Ultra Magnus sir? Are you alright?” The Prime asked his superior.
Ultra Magnus blinked a few times before breaking from his shock but still looking a bit confused.
“-Hum… Yes I am fine! Thank you for your report Rodimus Prime! You are dismissed!”
Still confused, the young Prime saluted the Magnus before leaving the office.
Once Rodimus Prime left the office, Ultra Magnus turned his attention toward the bots who were still staring and made them sign to go back to what they were doing before going back in his thoughts.
It can't be HIM! It was so long ago! Could it be HIM? After all this time?
Is HE really back?
The gladiator that everybot on Cybertron knew as “Lou Jitsu”?
—------------------------------------
He remembered it as if it was yesterday.
Eons ago before he became a Magnus, even before he even became a Prime.
Back when he was known simply as Ultra, a young cadet still in the autobot academy.
Even back then, he was a serious mech who preferred working on becoming a competent and professional autobot rather than going out to drink with his fellow cadets and “having fun”.
That's why when he heard news about a big gladiator fight event which was going to take place on the colony Tsiehshi, he didn’t pay much mind to it, it wasn’t like he planned on going anyway!
Or at least he wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for Kup practically dragging him to Tsiehshi to attend the gladiator fight despite his protestations.
“-You work all the time Ultra! It’s not bad to let go of work once in a while! And besides, it’s Lou Jitsu’s potential final battle! It’s not something we can just miss!”
Lou Jitsu… A designation that he, like everybot else, knew very well.
A mysterious mech who appeared from Primus only knew, who did not have any form of identity registered in any cybertronian databases.
A mech who managed to go through and win every battle he faced in the gladiator arena of Tsiehshi despite being a civilframe.
A mech whose reputation and mystery got to such level that his designation was in everybot’s mouths.
A mech who was about to have the battle of his life, who will potentially win his freedom back in a fight against the monstrous Skullcrusher and get the right to one thing, anything, he wishes for if he wins the fight.
A fight he was dragged to by Kup and had attended to.
Even to this day he remembers this fight, the brutality, the intensity.
He remembered when Skullcrusher had Lou Jitsu trapped in his grip and was about to live up to his designation.
He remembered when just everybots in the public thought this was over, the table had turned in one battle cry.
A battle cry who ended up marked in every cybertronian’s cpu.
“-HOT SOUP!!!!”
In one battle cry, the battle drastically turned in Lou Jitsu's favor in a fight like Ultra had never seen before.
He was amazed by what he was looking at, never in his life had he seen such fighting techniques!
It was like Lou Jitsu was an unstoppable force that nothing nor nobot could stop.
It was like he was invincible!
He saw Lou Jitsu throw a final powerful blow and Skullcrusher fall knocked out on the arena's floor.
Lou Jitsu had won! He won his Freedom back!
When Skullcrusher was out the audience, and surprisingly he included, wildly cheered for Lou Jitsu's Victory, scanding his designation in a Infinite choice and amazement.
But Ultra's surprise wasn't over when Lou Jitsu told his wish to the arena master:
The liberation of all the gladiators of the arena and all of them receiving monetary compensation.
This had taken Ultra and the audience by surprise, many had made bets and theories about Lou Jitsu's wish but nobot expected it to be that.
However when the arena master tried to refuse Lou Jitsu's wish, something in Ultra made him act on his own.
Maybe it was from the excitement from the fight? Or the autobots in his programming who were scandalized by the arena master's behavior? Or maybe a mix of both?
In any case something deep inside of his CPU was telling him to act against this injustice right now!
"-IS THIS A JOKE?!" Ultra had screamed, scandalized much to Kup's surprise, who was sitting right beside him, and of the audiences, the arena master's and Lou Jitsu's who all turned their attention to him.
Normally, he would never act like this, he wasn’t the kind of mech to drag attention on himself, especially in such a way, but once he began his protest, he couldn’t stop.
"-IT WAS SAID THAT IF LOU JITSU WIN THIS FIGHT HE WOULD HAD THE RIGHT TO ASK FOR ONE WISH IN ADDITION OF GETTING HIS FREEDOM BACK! LOU JITSU WON THE FIGHT AND BY SO HE HAS THE RIGHT TO ASK FOR ANYTHING HE WANT LIKE PROMISED!"
As soon as he finished, another bot in the audience followed next.
“-HE IS RIGHT! LOU JITSU WON FAIR AND SQUARE! WE WERE PROMISED THAT IF HE WIN HE WOULD GET ANYTHING HE WISH FOR! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR TO FULFILL YOUR PART OF THE FIGHT SETTING UH?! DO YOU TAKE US FOR IDIOTS?”
Right after that the rest of the audience joined in, protestating loudly against the arena master.
“-YEAH! ACCEPT LOU JITSU’S WISH!”
“-A PROMISE MADE IS A DEBT UNPAID!”
“-YOU CAN’T JUST SAY SOMETHING WILL BE IN THE EVENT ONLY TO GO BACK WHEN IT’S NOT AT YOUR ADVANTAGE YOU SCAMMER!
“-HE WON! SO HE GET TO HAD HIS WISH JUST GIVE IT TO HIM!”
“-BHOOOOOOOOO!”
Soon enough, the whole stadium, even the other gladiators, was protesting and booing at the arena master who was panicking and trying to find a way to take back control of the situation.
The arena master’s gaze ended on Lou Jitsu, who looked at in defiance with a smirk;
“-So, what is it gonna be arena master? ‘cause it look like the public is gonna riot if you don’t take a decision, or rather the right decision, right now!~”
The arena master ended up giving in, the fear of a riot actually happening overthrowing his greed.
Ultra Magnus remembers the whole Arena exploding in cheering when the arena master had given in, everybots, spectators and gladiators alike, were scanding Lou Jitsu's name.
After that the arena master kept his word and gave their freedom back to all the gladiators and gave all of them monetary compensations to the point of ending up ruined and forced to close down his gladiator arena, marking the end of the age of gladiators.
Lou Jitsu, once free, just left Tsiehshi without leaving any traces and was never to be seen again.
Like he never existed.
But no cybertronian ever forgot about him, not even Ultra Magnus.
Even eons after he vanished, even after the start of the war with the Decepticons, even after Ultra became a Prime and eons later a Magnus.
Lou Jitsu's legend keep living on with cybertronians, Autobots and Decepticons alike, knowing him as the hero who put an end to Gladiator fights.
On Tsiehshi, a statue was erected in honor of him at the place where the gladiatorial arena was before.
Despite the eons, the memory and legend of Lou Jitsu still keep living in Cybertron history and was never forgotten by anybot.
—---------------------------------
"- Ultra Magnus sir? Ultra Magnus sir! '
A voice of Cliffjumper through his communicator broke the Magnus from his thoughts.
"-Yes, what is it?" Ultra Magnus asked when answering the call.
"- Pardon me for bothering you sir, but we just got reports of strange activities going on on Earth! According to the reports, a non identified ship has been spotted going to the sector where Optimus Prime and his team are located! "
This got Ultra Magnus's attention.
Could this ship be linked to the group of neutrals that helped Team Atenia?
This could be just a coincidence but it wasn't impossible!
"-I see… Get in contact with Sentinel Prime, Jazz, Jetfire and Jetstorm to report to my office immediately and prepare the Steelheaven! We will go investigate those activities!" He ordered.
"- Understood sir! Cliffjumper out! "
As soon as the communication was cut, Ultra Magnus began to make all the preparations needed.
Whatever those neutrals were in relation with Lou Jitsu or not, he was going to get the bottom of this!
—------------------------------------
"-Rodimus Prime! Happy to know you came back from your mission in one piece!" The young Prime was greeted by Kup in the hall of the building.
"-Kup Minor sir!" Rodimus saluted his old mentor.
“-Now now Rodimus, don’t forget that I’m retired now! no need for military titles!” The old mech corrected, smiling.”Now how about you tell me how your mission has gone? I heard from Red Alert that something really strange happened!”
“-Well…”
Rodimus then re-told once the mission’s events, telling Kup exactly everything he told Ultra Magnus earlier.
As he got to the “Hot soup” part, the young Prime noticed that his old mentor got a shocked expression just like Ultra Magnus’s earlier.
He was about to ask Kup if everything was alright when the old mech put his hands on his shoulder and stared at him with a serious look on his face.
“-Kid, I’m gonna ask you a question and I need you to answer clearly okay? Are you ABSOLUTELY sure that their battle cry was “Hot soup”?”
Rodimus Prime was getting more and more confused.
“-Yes! I’m more than certain, this is what they said! Why?”
“-Rodimus, does the designation “Lou Jitsu” ring any bell to you?”
“-Of course it does! Lou Jitsu is one of the most well known celebrity figures in Cybertron’s history! The mech is seen as a hero, there’s no one in cybertronian kind who doesn’t know him! But what does this have anything to do with…”
Rodimus stopped on track, suddenly connecting the dots.
The battle cry… “ Hot soup”...
It was Lou Jitsu’s battle cry!
“-... No way!” The young Prime slowly exclaimed, his optics wide in realization.
“-Yes way kid! If what you heard turns out to be his war cry then it more than probably means one thing…”
“Lou Jitsu is back!”
———————————————————-
TAG list:
@roseofdarkness0 , @skyite , @skatermusic , @yourpoin
#transformers#Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#transformers animated#TFA#rottmnt#rottmnt au#tfa au#rottmnt splinter#lou jitsu#ultra magnus#rodimus prime#kup#crossover#one-shot#oneshot#fanfiction#fanfic#maccadam#au idea
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For @polyshipweek 2023! 💖
Day 1: Road Trip
Completing the Connection
Day 2: Second Chances
Rating: E (overall, but not until day 5)
Chararcters: Drift, Ratchet, Rodimus, Thunderclash
Pairing: thunderdratchrod
Fandom: Transformers (IDW1)
Tags: Minimal Editing, Romantic Fluff, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Polyamory, Flirting
Fic Summary: As a still newly-minted foursome, they've come closer to one another, but one connection hasn't quite fully cemented itself just yet. A surprise retirement announcement from Thunderclash has Rodimus suggesting one last tour on the Exitus for all of them. Really, it's a chance to for a bit of vacation time with his partners on Cybertron's shanix. And maybe it might spur on a little more action between Thunderclash and Drift.
AO3 link in reblog! Sequel to Closest of Friends. :)
Ratchet was happy with Drift. Very happy. He was absolutely certain Drift was happy with him, as well. That didn't mean he hadn't noticed the way Drift and Rodimus still looked at each other on rather frequent occasion. Having his own decidedly steamy past with Thunderclash—after a momentous night of food, drink, and almost debauchery—Ratchet had initiated the conversation that brought the four of them to their current place. The only hitch in their little group coming fully together lay in the prior lack of connection between Drift and Thunderclash. (As much as Ratchet might proclaim his disinterest in Rodimus before this, they all knew better. He did have a very noted inclination toward speedsters, after all, as Thunderclash reminded him again and again with obvious amusement.)
Thus, when he slid into the navigator's seat, Ratchet watched with great pleasure as his second chance was forced to take a seat beside Rodimus' second chance and buckle up. When Thunderclash held up his hand, Drift paused for only a moment before weaving their fingers together and letting Thunderclash rest their clasped grip atop his thigh. It wasn't much, but it was a good start. He could also see the shifting of their fingers as they silently conversed in hand.
Of course.
As someone only marginally knowledgeable in chirolinguistics, Ratchet resigned himself to the understanding that not a bit of whatever they talked about would be his to know unless they decided to share. Thus, deciding it was none of his business until then, Ratchet settled in his seat and gave Rodimus a quick nod. "Get Sureshot to get those bay doors open," he said. "I'm ready to put my free time to use the way it's supposed to be."
A wide grin was tossed his way and the shuttle's comm system flicked on. "This is the Rodpod to Exitus shuttle bay crew. How about we get those doors open so me and my boys can get the slag out of here?"
Ratchet snorted. "Real professional of you."
"Exitus shuttle bay to Rodpod, I'd tell you to have a good time, but you just fragging reminded me I'm stuck here until you slagstains get back," came the response, Sureshot's tone nearly as acerbic as Ratchet at his worst. "And I mean that in the friendliest way possible, just in case someone higher up the chain asks. You got me?"
It took everything Ratchet had to control his laughter well enough that Rodimus could respond and still be heard. He'd forgotten how funny a guy Sureshot was. The narrow opticked glare Rodimus threw his way very nearly dissolved even that small bit of control he maintained. "Don't worry, Sureshot," Rodimus replied with a drawl, "your secret's safe with me."
All that came back from the other side of the line was a grunt before it closed, then a clang rang out through the shuttle bay, signaling the opening of the doors that would let them escape the chains of their daily lives. Never one to accomplish a smooth launch in Ratchet's experience, Rodimus punched the acceleration and had them all thumped against the back of their seats as the Rodpod exited the Lost Light. Once his gyros were stabilized, Ratchet reached out to give Rodimus a thump on the nearest spoiler wing, earning a wiggle of the appendage and a pouty exclamation of, "That hurt!"
"Good. I'm gonna do it every time you launch a shuttle like that again and I happen to be on it," Ratchet informed him, casting a glance back at Drift and Thunderclash to make certain they were all right. Much to his delight, the pair were probably more all right than they should have been, all things considered. He knew exactly what that smile on Thunderclash's face meant. Knew exactly what Drift's fingers were doing, slipped down between Thunderclash's thighs. Turning back to Rodimus, he said, "Best get us to our destination, hot shot, otherwise you might miss out on some fun being had in the back of the shuttle."
He fully intended to rise from his seat and join Drift and Thunderclash, but found himself caught by a restraining hand to the shoulder. The look in Rodimus' optics brought any further attempt at movement to an immediate halt. A ping to his internal comm had him opening the line to a private exchange of words from the flashy mech.
::Hey, Ratch,:: Rodimus started, his hand sliding down Ratchet's arm until it paused at his wrist. The warmth his frame exuded by virtue of his very nature soaked into the joint, gentling the constant ache Ratchet carried there. ::Not yet. Let them invite us once they've gotten comfortable enough with each other.::
Ratchet arched an orbital ridge at him, a small laugh huffing from his vocalizer as he sat back in the embrace of the navigator's seat. He knew Rodimus was right, but the sight of his old flame and his conjunx getting touchy-feely bombarded him with an increasingly warmer flood of attraction. The feel of it through their tangling fields was even more intense. Tamping down hard on the reactions of his own frame, he jokingly asked, ::When did you get so smart?::
Attention returned to the front viewport and the controls under his hands—Ratchet mourned the loss of the warmth at his waist—Rodimus replied, ::Not gonna lie. It's all Drift. Remember how he let you and me find the two of us without him? How he kept Thunders out of the way for a bit?::
Thinking back, Ratchet could see and attest to exactly how effective the strategy had been. Given the time to really learn who the other was, most of their nitpicking now resulted in the two of them fumbling their way onto the nearest berth. Before that, they'd have been more likely to put much less fun dents into one another's helms and other sensitive parts. As he recalled, Drift found something else to do every time things got hot and heavy for Ratchet with Rodimus, occasionally dragging Thunderclash off to join him when the big mech wasn't at some meeting or other. At least, until they gave each of the shrewd look and caught Drift before he could disappear on them. They'd had a grand time of it since then, but for the one missing link in their party. Only one little hitch.
Ratchet glanced back at the other two again, his spark turning soft on seeing the way Drift and Thunderclash leaned into one another. He knew very well the weight of Drift's helm on his shoulder, knew it was something he only did when he felt truly safe and unjudged. He also knew the spark-calming influence of Thunderclash in the worst of high-emotion moments. If a good and deep friendship was all they were able to obtain? Well, friendship was never something to turn one's nose up at. Far be it from Ratchet, though, to deny that he quite wanted to see what Drift looked like all stretched out on Thunderclash's monster of the spike. Or the other way around if that's how they liked it. Ratchet was good with either as long as he got to watch—and participate—eventually. Friendship with benefits was more than acceptable, as far as Ratchet was concerned.
They'd make it work, whatever happened, because Ratchet didn't think he could give it up now that he had it. His spark was so very close to full.
#polyshipweek23#maccadam#dratchet#thunderrod#thunderdratchrod#ratchet#thunderclash#drift | deadlock#hot rod | rodimus
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A little expansion upon the Getaway, Rodimus, and Liaison with an oops!baby.
I truly believe that if Rodimus shared sirehood with Getaway, he would designate their sparkling as a Fun, Morale, and Entertainment Officer, for the following reasons:
Prime-protocols, even without the influence of the Matrix, are a powerful force of core programming. It prioritizes the aid and protection of carriers and sparklings, and in the age of a dormant Vector Sigma and population stagnation… it’s hyperfocused on the only one onboard, especially of his own sparkline. Rodimus feels more settled seeing bitty in your lap at meetings as the protocols calm down at the proximity. (Btw, Getaway is in the ceiling or found a way to secretly tap into the meeting if he’s not busy with other tasks or duties. Neither Rodimus or Getaway trust each other with you and resulting newspark.)
A way to spend time with their bit with all the responsibilities of a captain. Enjoys playing tag with their EM fields and making funny faces at them to get a burbling laugh or shy smile.
At least have one officer absolutely excited over a Rodimus Star no matter the reason.
Force Getaway to eat his Fighting Words. He can be a captain and a sire and hedoesn’tneedtostepdownfromonetodotheotherTHANKYOU
Just imagine Rodimus turning to their sparkling, asking for their opinion and seriously nodding to their unintelligible babble and chips, and then going, “Yes! Splendid idea!” or “I see… I should have taken that into consideration…” or “Duly noted, but majority said no. And your mother said it’s bad to cut your sleep short.”
#transformers#transformers idw#Getaway#Rodimus Prime#rodimus#reader insert#bitlets#sparklings#maccadam#My writing#IDW#MTMTE#look these two are trying their best#you have to be the responsible one with all the brain cells
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can we please get more hypnotized rodimus please i need to inject it into my veins, tattoo it to my brain even-
YES ABSOLUTELY FOREVER AND ALWAYS-
Hypnosis is my guilty pleasure tbh- don't worry, roddy is into it <3
I'm not gonna tell you whos being shipped here, but you should tell me who you think it is in replies or tags :]
[Feeling nosy? send me an ask in my inbox!!:V]
#transformers#my art#archie answers#my requests#mtmte#valveplug#hypnosis#rodimus#/nsfw#/nsft#infer whatever ship u want hehehe#lemon
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So I am. Extremely shocked at the amount of reception my Rodimus fic has gotten, to the point where a whole AU has been created HAHAHA. So I though why not compile it all somewhere for easy access? I will put it all under the cut so people’s dashboards aren’t swamped with info hahaha
Tasty AU
General Summary
This AU takes place in a First Contact AU setting. This means that humans are completely alien to Cybertronians, and there is a language barrier more often than not. Most if not all Cybertronians do not perceive humans as fully sentient.
Somehow, humans were discovered to have an incredible taste to Cybertronians. Cybertronian’s quickly came to love the idea of savoring humans in their intakes or even swallowing them down into their fuel tanks to be plucked out again later for future use.
Humans quickly became a delicacy, Swindle leading the charge on collecting these creatures for Cybertronians to enjoy. A minority of humans managed to cut a deal with Swindle, though— they could have a few remaining colonies as long as on occasion, at least one human from these colonies was volunteered up for a mech to enjoy and eventually return back to their home. If a mech felt like it, though, they could ask for a “sacrifice” instead— where the volunteered human would have to stay with the mech for as long as the mech wanted. These aren’t very often, but they still happen.
Some mechs disagree with the use of humans for these recreational purposes, but they are a minority.
Misc.
In short this AU is vore and dubious consent galore BAHAHA. This will also be updated as time goes on and we come up with more ideas!
All asks and writings pertaining to the AU will all be found under the tag “tasty AU”! An AO3 collection made by @bookandyarndragon with works on AO3 related to the AU can also be found here! (Thank you!) If you guys want me to compile the asks here separately though do let me know! Anyone is free to write or draw for this AU, I only ask that you please tag me if you do cause holy shit I would be honored HAHAHA.
But that’s basically everything! Go off to your hearts’ content and enjoy yourselves :)
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one hundred and one nights (overlord/reader)
summary : reader gets abducted by overlord. he has an infatuation.
pairing : overlord (idw) / afab! reader
fandom : transformers idw continuity, more than meets the eye
rating : e for explicit and mild descriptions of gore & dubious consent, minors don’t interact (mdni!), not safe for work (nsfw!)
warnings : descriptions of violence, references to human disembodiment, human!reader, smut, sticky sexual interfacing
tags : a lot of references to fairytail / folklore, mostly one-hundred and one nights & this goyard painting.
I. You've heard stories about him. Luna two, Garrus-nine, Hell's point. Albeit not from Swerve, or Chromedome, or Rodimus — that would be ridiculous. Impossible, even, when his name is already non-existent in the space of a ship big enough to fit thousands of Cybertornians. Not even a whisper, as if people were afraid that a slip of his name would be mistaken for a prayer and he would come to life, emerging from the shadowy corners of the Lost Light. Optics, sickly artificial red as they burn holes through the veil. But not even Primus would be as cruel as to materialize Overlord here. At least, you had hoped.
Only several nights before were you and Ratchet discussing him. The doctor knew you deserved an explanation for what transgressed over the weekend with Fort Max, Whirl, and Rung. On who he was, what he has done, and what he will continue to do if his spark wasn't sealed in a white vacuum — serpentine green drowning in nothing. The silence stretched for what felt like years, minutes solidifying themselves midair to bake the air thick. And your mouth was dry, face drained of its color. You didn't ask further, choosing to retreat into your room, where you made the last-minute decision to sleep with the lights on.
It was an irrational fear, you thought. To be afraid of someone light years away, deconstructed and stuffed in a box.
And yet here you are, trapped inside a prison chamber with him — limbs suspended, mouth curled into a grin.
II. It was a stupid accident. A stupid, preventable accident that could have been avoided if everyone had just sat down and listened to the noises Red Alert had been talking about. Their audials would have picked up the voices, the whispers, traveling through a crack big enough for you to slip into. Down the rabbit hole, you fell very slowly before hitting your shoulders square against the crown of Overlord’s head. Slipping ungracefully down an arm, and into the palm of his chained hand. You should have never taken directions from Whirl, because God knows how long it’ll take for the crew members to realize you were gone. And how many seconds left do you have to live, considering that you had conveniently fallen into his grip? A curse. A gift.
“What’s this?” He asked aloud. A dragon waking from his slumber, voice heavy as they echo throughout metal walls, “ Hm. They brought me a plaything.”
You couldn’t speak. Stunned mute as your head barely manages to recover from the impact. The chains rattled slightly, and he squeezed you — yet you were still intact. Surprisingly whole, save not for a few bruises. He says it’s because he’s bored. And that there’s no fun in having you bleed all over when he can’t clean himself up after.
He demanded you to speak and so you did, finding courage in your voice. Yet it sounded so tiny compared to his. And Overlord reveled in this. The more you tried to prove you weren’t afraid the more he’d tighten his grip, horrified to know that this level of self-restraint had (most likely) earned you a broken rib. You wonder what would happen if he had less motivation to keep you alive.
So you became Scheherazade and spoke softly in between trembling breaths. The boiling temperature inside this circular prison may very well be the Sahara, and if you flutter your eyes shut you can hear the sand dunes sing with the wind. And you lay in a dimly lit room with your new husband, spinning him a story so that he won’t plunge his blade past your sternum — the tip of his silver knife shimmering under firelight as they nick your pulse point. Overlord was your Shahryār, yet you wondered if he was just as curious as the prince or if he was too clever to be outwitted by a story. Most likely the latter. Yet maybe he’s just willing to play along, knowing that he will always be the cat, and never the bird. That there’s only one ending — for he has robbed you of your sunrise and conquered all your dusks— so might as well make it count.
III. But maybe Overlord should’ve killed you. He should’ve snapped you in half, and if the sight would have delighted him into a good mood, it would even be painless, quick. Yet instead, he decided that you were worth more than that. This cat wanted to play with his food. Wanted to hear it sing. And so he performed a massacre and took you with him.
At least it spared Chromedome the pain of having Rewind aboard the compartment with Overlord. Instead, he had you. And ever since then you've been drifting, deeper and deeper into darkness. Swallowed by the void of space, where nothing seems to glow brighter than his optics.
IV. You continued telling him stories. It became the only thing you knew how to do, rather than the only thing that kept you alive. You were now at an abandoned spaceport, where your captor sought temporary refuge. It conveniently hovered above the organic civilization living below on Saturn. He jokes about colonizing them, yet you didn't laugh, quietly staring at the man Overlord just squished under his foot. He must've been a routine worker sent to check the premises. He could have alerted the planet below. And could've called for help.
Bile was rising into the back of your throat.
Maybe he came with a friend. Or maybe Overlord had their way with them already. As you silently wept, you turned the other way — opting to blankly stare past the window. You can see his reflection approaching, the metal beneath you tremble with each step.
" What did I say about your crying?" He crooned, a digit forcefully dragging your chin upwards. You tried to be defiant, to puff out your cheeks and stop your lips from trembling. Yet there was blood on his armor, sprayed across his face. And now there were some on your cheek, wet and sticky, enough to make the tears fall faster.
Then, amid the silence that has crowded the room, between the background hums and noises coming from the machine arose the subtle, clicking noise of a cooling fan. He pushed the tip of his thumb against your bottom lip, the red shade of his optics burning into a deep shade of garnet.
" Look at me when you cry," He commanded, " I want to see it."
V. You told him a story of the Roman titan who devoured his sons one by one — afraid they’d overthrow him. Eat or be eaten, was that what Megatron thought when he installed a killswitch in his head? You hoped this would flatter him. It did. A little too much.
VI. You usually don't talk when he's inside of you. When his spike is stretching you almost too painfully, you never make conversation, it is always the sound of your shallow breathing and his indulgent moaning, mingling together in the air. He didn't force you, no. A part of you had wanted this. Out of sheer fear or stress, you're not sure.
Either way, it's safe to say that Overlord doesn't want you dead anytime soon. Yet he's starting to get bored. Or rather, tired, of wanting. Of fighting this internal disgust in himself for ever thinking of having you like this: underneath him, writhing and struggling to have him all the way to the hilt. He has always been more glutton than prideful. And so here you two were, with his mass displaced yet hands still big enough to cover the expanse of your back — thumbs draped against your nipples. Squeezing, circling. His optics leered at the hickeys and bruises loitering your skin. He has a fascination with how they turn purple and bleed red, sometimes blooming into blue before fading. You tell him as long as he's gentle enough not to break anything, he's more than welcome to have you like this.
As insatiable as he is, that was enough for him.
" If I had known...organics were this pliant. I would have gotten myself a plaything eons ago."
He roughly snapped his hips upwards, dragging you against the berth.
" Sing for me."
Nothing made sense anymore. Not when he has you by the talons like a wild animal, hunched over to devour its prey. Atoms would condense and cluster and sink onto your skin, crowding you with heat from the brutal pace he's setting. You're afraid he'd snap your hip as he hikes up your right leg. Angling you, using you, to his pleasure. And there is pleasure out of this for you too, molten liquid tightening around your abdomen. So you indulge him. He likes seeing you cry, and so you did. Begging, whining — which only causes him to hold you closer to his chassis. The thrum of his spark against you is loud enough to send you into a headache.
It's too much. You wanted to say. But you know it's futile. So as you reached your high — spent and overstimulated from this newfound obsession of his — you could do nothing but brace yourself for the rush of trans fluid spilling down your legs. Your cunt, sore and aching as he finally pulls away.
He says you're funner this way. That's the closest thing you'll get to a sunrise.
#transformers#maccadams#transformers x reader#transformers x you#overlord#overlord x reader#overlord / you#overlord / reader#overlord idw#overlord transformers#transformers idw#tf mtmte#mtmte#transformers mtmte#idw mtmte#mtmte overlord#mtmte x reader#mtmte imagine#lost light#idw transformers#transformers lost light#tf headcanons#tf imagines#tf idw#transformers headcanons#transformers hc#tf hc
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Please please please begging for literally any heat/rut hc’s/ideas you have i’m not picky on character just pleaseeee gimme your ideas to feast upon
- robooby (it’s a side blog, also thank you for the tag! “Who put all this blood in penis” is the actual best compliment i’ve ever gotten almost brought me to tears)
first of all, i’m so sorry that this is how you find out i’m stupid as fuck and don’t actually harbour any comprehensive heat/ruts headcanons… that said, i do have decidedly incomprehensible and confusing heat/rut headcanons.
shit, where do i start… well, I like the thought of violent heats/ruts. I just feel like sexual reproduction on Cybertron would happen so rarely, so the violent heats are basically the body making sure that once the conditions for a heat cycle are met, the breeding happens, no matter what. A mech going into heat/rut would suddenly get irritable, violent, more emotional and angry, they would go out of their way to make various dominance displays to prove themselves a good mate. Oh, the war is perfect for reproductive systems to slip from a mech’s mind and then suddenly come back roaring. They kill with so much more vigour on the battlefield all of a sudden, and since that’s expected, no one really assumes that they might be going into heat, let alone the mech themselves. By the time they figure it out, no preventative methods are working. oops.
also, you wanted to go by characters? well, i can do that, but prepare for the fact that it won’t have anything to do with what i just said. i contain multitudes.
you know, I like the thought of Megatron having a heat with effects that contradict how he usually is perceived. His frame gets all hot and heavy and he feels sluggish, slow and tired, but this altered state of his also means that he tends to stop minding his strength as much, and would rather rip his partner’s arm straight off than let them leave the bed, not to mention that when he wraps his legs around their waist, it’s like being trapped in a hot cage, and it’s virtually impossible to escape. Though, for a long time, Megatron probably rode out his heats and ruts alone, or had them suspended.
Rodimus’ heats are 100% consistent with how he acts, and a total opposite of Megatron’s. He feels alert, awake, and nervous. One day Magnus definitely finds him on the bridge, his optics rolled back as he grinds his node and the underside of his spike against the edge of the control panel, too stupid with the effects of his heat to consider that perhaps touching himself might be more effective. Magnus has to drag him away while he keeps trying to hump him. Drift definitely has a violent heat/rut, which is why he tries to hide away during it, because he’d be so ashamed of himself if he’d hurt Rodimus and Ratchet… of course his wall of guilt is quickly broken by two fussing boyfriends. Ratchet definitely handles himself better but he gets touchy-feely in a way he rarely does, trying to get closer to either Drift or Rodimus. Or someone else if they’re unavailable. Magnus is the kind of guy to get through his heat without any help or anyone even being able to tell that he’s in heat, but the entire time his panels are on fire. But to actually attend to the heat would mess with his schedule, so he just has to push through with grit teeth.
#second of all. hello robooby i loved that fanfic i think about it all the time#i can probably do more but this is too long and also i don’t. remember any characters. head blank#this is a sign to never give me an open stage to talk about whatever. does any of this make any sense#valveplug#heat cycles#text
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