❝this is a blog about transformers. i post soft content, but some of my stories include mature themes that are not suitable for readers under 18, so i kindly ask: MINORS, PLEASE, DO NOT INTERACT. all of my posts come with warnings, so be sure to check them out.❞
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─ do you want to request me something or just chat? no need to be shy, i don't bite. just click that little button up there﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒
Why do I want Prowl to meet Olivia Benson LMAO like it'd be so cute to have this grumpy giant alien robot from space interact with this tiny fish🤌
ᝰ.ᐟ ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE・CH. 6
( paring ) prowl x gn!human!reader
( genre ) grumpy x sunshine
( warnings ) neutral-gender reader (suitable for any reader) ﾉ physical and psychological violence ﾉ blood (not excessively graphic but present) ﾉ tension ﾉ suspense ﾉ mild torture ﾉ mutilation ﾉ comfort in the end ﾉ english is not my language.
( word count ) 4,1k
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┆.˚⋆ author's notes ⋆˚.┆ hello everyone! sorry for the delay in bringing a new chapter, in the final notes I explain what happened. just stopping by before the reading to say that this chapter is a bit more tense and violent than usual, but don’t worry, it won’t always be like this. corrections and constructive criticism are very welcome, as well as comments, likes, and reblogs. someone asked me about this before, if you’d like to be added to this story’s tag list, just let me know. anyway, enjoy the chapter!
the popcorn’s pops in the pot faded into a distant noise, mrs. jenkins’ voice on the other end of the line had already become incomprehensible to you. a cold spread through your body, the most terrible sense of dread clouding your mind. what would you do in that situation? you didn’t know where prowl was, but you were certain he was far away. you could try to contact him, but it would take time for him to get there – and what would you do until then? you needed to get out of there immediately. you had no idea who that person sitting on your sofa, wearing the face of your kindly elderly neighbor, really was, but it was definitely not good, and certainly not normal.
your gun was on the second floor, on top of the dresser and next to olivia’s tank. olivia. god, you couldn’t leave without her, no way. she wasn’t just a fish – she was your best friend in the darkest time of your life, abandoning her would be a cardinal betrayal. you needed to figure out a way to get upstairs to the bedroom, grab your gun and olivia, and escape the house without letting that thing notice. stealth had never been your strong suit, but this time it could cost you your life.
you took a deep breath, slipped your phone back into the back pocket of your jeans, and walked to the pot on the stove. you grabbed a bowl and poured all the popped popcorn into it, then walked to the fridge and poured a glass of soda. you’d need to keep up appearances. pretend everything was normal and don’t let that thing realize you knew about it.
with the bowl in one hand and the glass in the other, you walked back into the living room and set them down on the coffee table. even with your head bowed you could feel the fake mrs. jenkins’ gaze on you, and summoning your courage you lifted your eyes to stare at her. how had you not noticed before? those apathetic eyes, dull and lifeless. completely different from the kind, maternal eyes of the real mrs. jenkins. it was an almost perfect copy, truly. in looks it imitated her completely. but something was missing, something warm, something alive, something real. that cold, emotionless stare made your whole body crawl, it reminded you of a predator watching its prey, waiting for the right moment to strike. and in that scenario, you were the prey.
the thing forced a mechanical smile full of teeth, an insincere expression that didn’t reach its eyes. “thank you, dear. how kind of you,” even the rhythm of its voice sounded wrong, like an act. “you seem nervous, are you alright?” the question caught you off guard and you took a few seconds to smile and answer, trying to sound casual. “i’m fine, mrs. jenkins. you know how it is, my stomach’s been off today, i think i’ll need to use the bathroom,” an awkward little laugh escaped your lips. “but i’ll be right back. make yourself comfortable.”
you backed away in slow steps, trying to keep eye contact as long as possible, afraid to turn your back and be attacked. it didn’t even make a move for the glass or the popcorn, only following you with its gaze and that same terrifying smile. you breathed in and turned, climbing the stairs while trying to keep a normal pace, not running. when you finally reached the second floor you let out the breath you’d been holding. you hurried into your bedroom and shut the door behind you, leaning against the wood while your eyes scanned the room frantically.
your thermos came into view and immediately an idea struck you. in long strides you grabbed the bottle from the nightstand and went to olivia’s tank, opening the thermos lid before plunging it into the aquarium to let the water fill it. gently, you coaxed olivia to swim into the bottle and when she did, you capped it. “sorry, little friend, i know it’s terribly small, but we’ll figure it out.” you grabbed your gun beside the tank, checked the ammunition, and tucked it into the back of your waistband, using your top to cover it.
you ran to a bag hanging on a hook and shoved the bottle with olivia and some extra ammo – which you’d taken from the desk drawer – into it, slinging the strap over your shoulders. then you walked to the door and counted to three in your head before opening it all at once. that’s when your blood froze and color drained from your face. the thing that was impersonating mrs. jenkins stood in front of you, the same cold, empty look staring into the depths of your soul. you spent a few seconds putting the facade of calm back on your face, your throat as dry as a desert as you said, “mrs. jenkins, are you alright?”
the corners of that thing’s mouth curved upward slowly into a grotesque smile, its head tilted slightly downward, looking up at you and exposing the lower part of the sclera, giving it an even more disturbing appearance. “you took a long time, i came to see if you were okay.” a nervous laugh escaped your lips and you scratched the back of your neck before replying, “i’m fine, just a bit under the weather.” you glanced over the thing’s head then placed your hands on its shoulders. “look, mrs. jenkins, your hair’s a mess. i know how much you hate being untidy. here, let me show you the bathroom so you can fix it.”
you turned it and began to gently push it toward the bathroom, opening the door and leaving it there. it faced you again, but before it could say anything you cut it off. “there, take your time.” you smiled, closed the door, and spun around, sprinting for the stairs while grabbing your phone from your pocket and calling prowl. he answered quickly, his voice casual. “hey, chatterbox, missing me already?”
“prowl, this isn’t a joke, i need help,” you said fast and low, trying not to let the thing hear you as you ran down the stairs. “mrs. jenkins came to my house and i let her in, but it’s not her. the real one called me and she’s far from here. prowl, i don’t know what that thing in my house is, but it’s not human.”
“what?!” his voice on the other end sounded annoyed and sterner than usual. “i told you not to open the door to anyone… ugh, get out of there immediately and hide. don’t try to fight. i’m on my way.” before you could say anything else the call ended and you reached the front door. but when your sweaty hand met the cold knob, it wouldn’t turn. “shit, what!?” you spun the knob over and over, pulling at the door uselessly, realizing it was locked. you frantically searched for the key in the little dish on the entry table, but it wasn’t there.
“looking for this, human?” a cold, mocking voice said behind you, and you took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment before slowly turning around. when you faced the thing, you saw the cynical smile it wore as it dangled the house key between two fingers. “i must admit, i didn’t think it’d be this easy to fool you, but using the face of that old stupid bitch was a decisive move.” the thing stepped closer, and you stepped back the same distance. “you know, at first i was going to kill her. i thought about skinning her alive, ripping off every little finger while listening to and recording her delicious screams of pain and terror. then i’d replay them on a loop to recharge, like a sweet lullaby.”
it kept advancing with elegant steps, like a feline. “i was going to hang her from your kitchen ceiling, make it a work of art to surprise you when you came home. oh, my sweet human, i’ve killed many organic species as insignificant as yours, but i must admit, none are as beautiful on the inside as you. the living crimson of your blood and your palpable fear are just… thrilling! but the old woman left before i could have my fun, so all i could do was take her form and have fun with you. after a few questions, of course.”
“what do you want with me?” you asked, trying to sound braver than you actually felt. when the thing took another step forward, you immediately drew your gun, aiming it at it. “one more step and i shoot.” it let out a harsh, mocking laugh that sent chills down your spine – but it stopped the moment you pulled the trigger, the bullet hitting its chest. the thing looked down at the hole in its torso, then back at you, its expression even more terrifying than before. “you vermin…”
it started moving toward you faster now, and you backed away, firing again and again – to no effect. a shot to the chest, the stomach, the legs… they only slowed it down, never stopped it. until you aimed at the head and fired, sending it crashing backward onto the floor. you lowered your gun, hesitating, too afraid to approach. but you didn’t have to, the thing began to rise again, slowly. a hole pierced straight through its head where its right eye had been, letting you see through it. it looked even more furious now, and if it had only considered killing you before, the task had definitely jumped to the top of its list. “oh, for fuck’s sake…”
you shoved the gun back into your bag beside olivia’s bottle and ran desperately toward the kitchen, hoping to escape through the back door. but your hope died the moment you saw it was locked too. “son of a bitch!” you tried the window next, but remembered it was jammed, something you’d procrastinated fixing. you glanced around and grabbed the first thing in sight – a kettle – and, without thinking twice, smashed it against the glass until it shattered.
you climbed up onto the counter and started crawling through the window, but just as half your body was out, you felt hands grab your legs. you looked back to see the distorted version of mrs. jenkins yanking you back in with terrifying strength and fury. you kicked at her to break free, and when the sole of your shoe left a print on her forehead, it only seemed to enrage her further.
with one brutal pull, the thing threw you back inside, your spine slamming against the cabinet beneath the sink and knocking the air out of your lungs. before you could recover, it was on you again, gripping your neck and hauling you upright. “you’re only prolonging this by resisting, but you know, i love a good game.” your fist clenched, and you punched it square in the jaw, then again, and again. you struck its arm over and over where it held your throat, but it was useless, it only tightened its grip. the thing yanked you closer and slammed its forehead against yours, the headbutt so precise it left you dazed for a few seconds before hurling you across the kitchen.
“for a human, you hit pretty well,” it sneered. “the others we captured didn’t have that kind of willpower, they died begging for mercy. when lord megatron’s done with you, i’ll make you a trophy. you’ll decorate my shelf of souvenirs from this pitiful galaxy.”
as it advanced, you staggered to your feet, still dizzy from the blow. you tried to back away, but your steps were short and unsteady, a sharp pain in your ankle told you you’d probably twisted it in the fall. you glanced over the counter and spotted a large kitchen knife, you grabbed it tightly by the handle. as soon as it got closer, you spun around and drove the knife with all your strength into its neck, hoping at least to buy some time. but as if it were nothing, it grabbed the back of your neck and slammed your head against the counter, leaving you dazed. it pressed its full weight on you to keep you pinned while using one hand to grab your arm.
“i’m loving our little game, sweetspark,” it hissed, “but i think it’s time we leave. before that…” it paused, and with its free hand yanked the knife from its own neck. “how about we leave a gift for prowl?” it stretched your hand out flat on the counter and drove the knife through your pinky, sawing it off slowly, agonizingly.
the desperate scream that tore from your throat was music to its ears. tears burned your eyes before spilling across the counter where your face was pressed. when it finally finished, it licked your blood from the knife and stabbed it into the wood. “let’s take a little trip, sweetspark.” it threw you onto the floor, grabbed the back of your shirt collar, and began dragging you through the house. “you’ll love the cage i’ve prepared just for you.”
you didn’t even try to fight anymore, exhaustion and pain were consuming your body little by little. when you reached the living room, the thing kicked the front door open with one brutal strike, splintering the wood completely. it dragged you across the unkempt grass in your front yard, the cold night wind brushing your face and drying your tears.
then the sound of screeching tires pulled you out of your haze. when you turned your head, you saw a car speeding toward you. not just any car, prowl. with one last burst of strength, you lifted your arms and wriggled out of your shirt, leaving it clenched in the creature’s hand. you crawled across the grass as far as you could before turning just in time to see prowl slam straight into the thing, launching it through the air. in an instant, he transformed, landing in a fighting stance. and within seconds, another robot appeared, the same one that had attacked you both before. barricade.
barricade’s sadistic grin was nightmarish, making your skin crawl. it was the same smile you’d seen on the false mrs. jenkins’ face just minutes ago. “prowler, prowler… we couldn’t wait, so we started the party early. you know, they're quite the fighter. i’m curious how much i can play with them before they break.”
“not my human, your fragger.” in a burst of rage, prowl lunged at barricade, landing a rapid flurry of blows. the decepticon fell, shaking the ground, but prowl grabbed him by a leg and in one motion lifted and slammed him back down like a ragdoll. “i swear on my spark, you’ll pay dearly for laying a single digit on them. i’ll end you, and i’ll enjoy doing it.”
barricade rose and activated one of his weapons, aiming it at prowl. but before he could fire, prowl was faster – he shot barricade square in the midsection plating, sending him staggering backward and crashing into half of the real mrs. jenkins’ house, obliterating that entire side. prowl advanced, grabbed barricade by the door wings, and ripped them off with brutal force. the guttural roar that tore from barricade’s vocalizer was deafening, and in a desperate counter, he struck prowl several times, throwing him back into your house and bringing part of it down.
you curled into a fetal position on the grass, clutching the bag with olivia’s bottle tightly to your chest. you could feel the cold night wind mixed with the dust and debris from your collapsing home brushing against your bare skin. your eyes squeezed shut as silent, hot tears streamed down your face. all you could do was pray that prowl would win, that this nightmare would finally end. the adrenaline drained from your body, replaced by exhaustion. little by little, the sounds of battle became distant noise, and just before darkness claimed you, you heard the sound of tires screeching against asphalt.
₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊
slowly, you wake up to distant voices talking. you couldn’t tell if they were speaking another language or if you were just too confused to understand. your eyes tried to open, but the brightness in the room made that almost impossible. your head felt heavy – actually, your whole body did, as if it weighed a ton. you could tell you’d been medicated, yet the pain still managed to cut through the haze of drugs.
fragments of what had happened began returning. being alone at home, mrs. jenkins’ visit, realizing it wasn’t really her, getting beaten by barricade, prowl showing up to save you. if you were alive, then he must’ve succeeded. you felt something cold and metallic brush against your face, and instinctively, you leaned into it. your eyes finally opened, meeting the bright blue optics of prowl, who was gently caressing your cheek with the tip of one digit. “awake, chatterbox?”
you caught the sadness hidden in the smile he tried to pull and brought your hand up to touch his digit. “you know,” you murmured, voice hoarse but teasing, “when i was a kid, i used to dream of a prince on a white horse coming to save me. never imagined my prince would be an alien in the shape of a fairlady z.” prowl let a soft laugh escape and brushed under your chin lightly “thank you for getting there in time, prowler.”
“not exactly in time,” he replied, before taking your other hand, the one wrapped in bandages, missing your pinky. “that bastard... i swear, i’ll make him pay for touching you.” you lifted your bandaged hand, staring at it for a few seconds as the memories came back. the agony, the pain, the helplessness. but you were alive. alive, and more determined than ever to take down whatever the decepticons were planning in that city. you looked back at prowl, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you flexed the pinky of your other hand “it’s okay, handsome. i still have the other one. that’s enough for me to promise i’ll help you guys however i can, and that we’ll fight those sons of bitches together.”
another autobot approached, carrying something that looked like a tablet. despite being made of metal, he somehow managed to look utterly exhausted, like someone who had lived through too much of this crap already. you recognized him from the last time you’d been at the autobot base, the grumpy, bad-tempered medic who vaguely reminded you of dr. mccoy from star trek.
“you got lucky, prowl’s human,” he said flatly, tapping a few notes on his huge datapad before glancing back at you. “barricade’s usually a lot more violent and sadistic in his attacks.” he grabbed another device from a nearby table and passed it over you as if scanning your body. “i did what i could, treated your wounds, medicated you. besides a severed finger, you suffered three concussions, a broken rib, a sprained ankle, and a fractured nose. i’m not sure if you’ll remember, but you put up quite a fight when i had to fix your nose. for someone so tiny, you’re really fierce.” you turned to look at prowl, recalling vague flashes of him holding you still with his massive servo while you screamed bloody murder.
“anyway,” ratchet continued, “you’ll recover. but if you feel anything wrong, tell prowl so he can bring you back here. if it gets serious, we’ll have to take you to a human doctor. you’re both cleared, get some rest, prowl.” ratchet gave a brief nod and walked off. prowl offered you his digit to hold, helping you sit up on the massive berth. for the first time, you managed to get a proper look at the place – it made you feel like alice after drinking the shrinking potion. everything was gigantic. “you didn’t rest, did you, prowl?” you asked, still glancing around the strange, hyper-technological med bay.
“no. i stayed here with you,” he said simply, shrugging slightly before carefully scooping you up in his servos, making sure you were secure against his chassis as he began walking. “and how long was i out?” you asked, settling into the warmth of his palms, the cold air of the base brushing against your bare skin. you weren’t wearing your clothes anymore, just a loose white nightgown and your feet were bare, one of them wrapped in bandages. “for four of your days,” he replied as he left the med bay, walking through the corridors. “and you stayed by my side the whole time, without sleeping?”
“we don’t require as much rest as you humans do, chatterbox. but yes, i stayed online the whole time. i failed you once, i wasn’t going to fail again.” you smiled softly, looking up at his chin, but chose not to say anything. as you both walked through the corridors, other autobots passed by. some smiled and greeted you, others looked either overly excited or deeply uncomfortable to see you. “where are we going?” you asked.
prowl hesitated before answering “to my habsuite. you’ll be living with me from now on.” he paused, optics lowering to meet your gaze. “your house was destroyed in the fight. i’m sorry. we managed to salvage a few things, but honestly… i’m not sure everything we picked up was actually yours. mrs. jenkins’ house was destroyed too, and the items got mixed together.” that explained the grandma nightgown you were wearing.
suddenly, a realization hit you and you tried to stand up in his servos, only to fall back on your butt. “prowl, olivia. i… she was with me. what happened to her? don’t tell me she-” prowl stopped in front of a massive door – like everything else there – and keyed in a code. the room inside was spacious, sleek, and perfectly organized, though somehow lacking warmth. he walked toward what looked like a nightstand the size of a small house and gently set you down on it. on top of it stood a human-sized bed, a small clothing rack with a few outfits, most of which you knew weren’t yours. a neat row of shoes, and a dresser with familiar items like a hairbrush, a handheld mirror, and a bottle of perfume.
then prowl opened a compartment on his own chassis and pulled out a fish tank, slightly smaller than the one you used to have at home. inside, an olivia benson swam peacefully, completely unfazed by everything that had happened. prowl held the tiny tank in his huge servos with extreme care. “olivia’s fine. i kept her in my subspace to make sure i could take care of her properly.” he placed the tank on the dresser, opened the lid, and sprinkled in some fish food – which he also seemed to pull out of nowhere. “she’s a good animal.”
you stepped closer to the tank, meeting your fish’s slightly cross-eyed stare. she looked a little plumper, but definitely still your olivia. watching her dart around excitedly to eat, a small smile tugged at your lips before you turned back to prowl. “prowler… you made my fish fat.”
“what? of course not. she looks exactly the same,” he said, narrowing his optics in mild offense. “maybe you didn’t feed her enough.” you couldn’t help but laugh, limping to the edge of the huge nightstand you were standing on. “where did you guys even get all this stuff? medicine, bandages… this bed isn’t mine.” prowl handed you the bag of fish food, his optics narrowing slightly. “bumblebee, me, and the others… borrowed them from a few places. we’re still missing some things, like a proper spot for you to wash up and, uh, handle your human necessities. but wheeljack’s working on that.” you knew exactly what that meant – they’d stolen it – but you weren’t about to call him out. not after learning he’d stayed awake for four days straight taking care of you. “come here,” you said softly, motioning for him to lean down. when he did, lowering his large faceplate close to you, you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “thank you for everything, prowler.”
┆.˚⋆ author's notes ⋆˚.┆ hi again! i hope you enjoyed the chapter. sorry for being absent for so long, a few things happened over the past months that left me without much motivation to write. i went through a case of sexual harassment at work (which has already been properly handled), and balancing my job with college and writing time has been complicated. my depression, as always, doesn’t make things easier either. on top of that, i’ve been facing a big creative block regarding transformers, which only made my anxiety worse, but i hope to overcome it soon. i also have a serious problem of never feeling like what i write is truly good enough, i’m working on that by trying to post things as they are, without putting so much pressure on myself. this wasn’t a chapter i considered genuinely good, but i decided not to overthink it. even though summer is still a month away here, it’s already unbearably hot, kind of a silly detail, but for someone with low blood pressure like me, it’s rough. anyway, i won’t drag this note on too long. i hope you liked the chapter. i don’t want to make promises i can’t keep, but i’m trying to set up a posting schedule to update this story at least every two weeks.
Shell, could we get a spicy alphabet for Megatron?
ᝰ.ᐟ MEGATRON'S SPICY ALPHABET
┆PARING: megatron x gn!human!reader
┆WARNINGS: nsfw・explicit sexual content・no mention of reader's intimate anatomy・english is not my language
┆WORD COUNT: 3.8k
⋆˙⟡ A/N: yeaaaaahh!! i'm so glad someone asked for more spicy alphabet. let's fucking go!
✴︎ A: AFTERCARE
what they’re like after sex.
megatron may not be the most romantic mech in the world, but he definitely takes time to care for you. of course, he first appreciates the view, memorizing how stunning you look after he’s completely ruined you. he loves seeing you wrecked against the berth sheets, not a single coherent thought behind those cute eyes, completely drunk on sex. then he’ll get up and fetch a container of warm water and a soft cloth. he’ll clean your body of his release and settle you comfortably against the pillows. finally, he’ll lie back down beside you and pull you closer, savoring the warmth and softness of your body for as long as he can.
✴︎ B: BODY PART
their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s.
honestly, he doesn’t consider himself a handsome mech, at least not conventionally attractive. but he knows he has his strengths and a certain kind of charm. his favorite part of his own body is his chassis. he likes the appearance, the structure, it makes him robust. he also likes the contours. he loves how you lean on it when you ride him.
on you, he loves your thighs. he loves how soft they are, how the skin yields under the touch of his servos. he adores when you wear clothes that show them off, or when he can rest his helm against them. but he also loves how hot and delicious they are when he’s fucking them. feeling you squeeze his spike between them while he ruts until overload is, without a doubt, in his top three sensations.
✴︎ C: CUM
anything to do with cum, basically.
megatron has a guilty pleasure in painting you pink. he can’t help himself. your hot, familiar mouth wrapped around his spike, licking from base to tip, sucking with conviction. your gaze under your lashes locked onto his as he buries his digits in your hair — it’s simply the vision of paradise. how could he not contribute to that masterpiece? when he overloads, he spills across your face, watching transfluid run down your soft skin, some caught by your outstretched tongue while the rest drips from your chin. or when he’s taking you from behind, he almost never misses the chance to dirty your ass cheeks with his climax.
✴︎ D: DIRTY SECRET
pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs.
he wouldn’t admit it, it makes him seem like some desperate young mech with no control over his urges. but when he’s alone and can’t pull you from your duties for a while, he takes a piece of your clothing left behind and uses it. be it a cotton shirt or worn underwear, he vents deeply, capturing every trace of your natural scent, then wraps it around his spike, fucking into it until it’s drenched in his transfluid. if it happened to be your favorite piece, sorry, but he’ll make it disappear. he won’t leave evidence of his “crime.”
✴︎ E: EXPERIENCE
how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?
in his time as a miner and later as a gladiator, megatron didn’t have much time to think about interfacing. he was busy with survival, for example. but once he consolidated his position as decepticon leader — ooh, this mech knew how to make up for lost time. he indulged in everything imaginable. megatron has had multiple partners, sometimes more than one at the same time. he’s experimental, after all, how can you be sure you don’t like something without trying? even if you’re his first human partner, he definitely knows exactly what to do, where to touch, and how to touch. at the end of the day, he learns fast.
✴︎ F: FAVORITE POSITION
doggy style. definitely. fucking you from behind, one servo locked around your nape while your ass bounces from the force of his thrusts and your pretty hands spreads your cheeks wide so he can watch his spike sliding in and out, disappearing inside you. it’s the best part of his day.
✴︎ G: GOOFY
are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous?
no, megatron is not goofy during sex. quite the opposite, in fact. he is extremely serious, focused on his own and your pleasure. jokes and laughter are not for him, and if you try, he’ll shove two digits into your pretty mouth to silence you.
✴︎ H: HAIR
do they care if you’re shaved or not? do they have any preference?
yes, he has a preference, and his preference is the bush. shh, no arguments. megatron lives for the rainforest between your legs, and if you ever showed up completely bare, rest assured it would go down as one of the worst days of his life. okay, it’s your body, but know that he’ll complain until you let it grow back. maybe he’d accept it better if you shaved almost everything and asked your waxer to leave a cute “m.”
✴︎ I: INTIMACY
how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect.
he can be rougher in the moment. as said before, he’s not the most conventionally romantic. that doesn’t mean he loves you any less, only that he shows it in different ways. during sex, expect firm thrusts, love bites, spanks followed by massages, and servo marks on your hips.
✴︎ J: JACK OFF
masturbation headcanon.
not a big fan of doing it alone. when he has no other choice, he relieves himself as he can, hidden in his quarters or in the wash racks. but his favorite is mutual masturbation. it’s intimate, exciting, delicious. he loves feeling your soft hands pumping his spike while he explores your body.
✴︎ K: KINK
one or more of their kinks.
this mech is freaky, kinky as fuck. we could list a few: size kink, edging, degradation, brat-taming, overstimulation… the list is long, we could be here all day long.
✴︎ L: LOCATION
favorite places to do.
you’re soft, he needs to mass shift to fuck you, so his favorite place inevitably became his berth covered in pillows and blankets, in the safety of his quarters. but now and then, he loves breaking routine — dragging you into a supply closet or bending you over the conference table when no one is around.
✴︎ M: MOTIVATION
what turns them on, gets them going.
just one look from you or a casual touch and he’s hard. there isn’t something specific that makes him crave you — the truth is, he’s always craving being inside you. it doesn’t matter if he’s in a mind-numbing meeting with ultra magnus or one of rodimus’ endless monologues, his processor drifts, half the time imagining being between your legs, the other half tasting your lips and feeling your warm skin.
✴︎ N: NO
something they wouldn’t do, turn offs.
as much as megatron loves marking you with bites and claiming you with love bruises, he is not comfortable with too much spanking. he knows full well he could break you apart like a tower of legos with a single slap. rushing you to the medbay mid-fuck with his spike still hard, having to explain to ratchet why you’re a wreck of a human — that’s one of his worst nightmares.
✴︎ O: ORAL
preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.
definitely prefers receiving. don’t get it wrong, he’s not selfish. in fact, he loves losing himself for hours between your legs. but the feeling of your mouth sucking his spike, swallowing him until you gag, it’s irresistible and addictive. you on your knees in front of him, hair gripped tightly in his digits as your head bobs… it’s an exercise in control not to thrust and fuck your throat. and when your magic tongue slides down to his valve? he can’t last more than a few minutes.
✴︎ P: PACE
are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.
usually, megatron’s rhythm is slow and rough — steady, powerful thrusts that make your body vibrate. but if he’s in a particular mood, or you ask for something gentler, he won’t mind going slow and sensual.
✴︎ Q: QUICKIE
their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.
his favorite. for megatron, five good quickies beat one long session. he enjoys both for different reasons, but quickies have his spark. he can take you hard, then head right back to his duties as co-captain. only benefits.
✴︎ R: RISK
are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.
megatron likes risks, even if he won’t say it aloud. it’s more complicated with you being human and him needing to mass shift before you can be intimate, but that only makes him more creative — like taking you in the ship’s ventilation shafts.
✴︎ S: STAMINA
how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?
if there’s one thing this mech has, it’s stamina. he can go for multiple rounds without showing the slightest sign of fatigue. don’t bother competing, you’ll lose. but he’ll only go as far as your limits, respecting your body. after a nap, if you want more, he’ll be waiting with his spike hard and biolights pulsing.
✴︎ T: TOYS
do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?
he likes the idea and he’s open to it, but most of the time using them on you. nothing like fucking you while pressing a vibrator against you, or binding you with cuffs and a blindfold so you can’t see or touch him, only receive.
✴︎ U: UNFAIR
how much they like to tease.
megatron loves teasing you. dark, hungry glances, servos lightly trailing over your body while he keeps his optics locked on something serious ultra magnus is saying, kisses and bites on your nape, grinding over your clothes — before suddenly turning away and leaving you desperate. it’s his favorite pastime.
✴︎ V: VOLUME
how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.
he isn’t very loud, his sounds are deep groans in your ear, low growls, grunts, and the occasional roar of his engine as he nears climax. the real noise is metal against your skin.
✴︎ W: WILD CARD
a random headcanon for the character.
once, you managed to convince him to try toys on himself. while you slid a vibrator into his valve, you sucked his node vigorously and stroked his spike. the combination of all the stimuli you gave him made him overload harder than almost ever before, to the point he struggled to close his modesty plate afterward.
✴︎ X: X-RAY
let’s see what’s going on under that plating.
ooooh, his spike is big. i know it, i know it’s big! and not just regular big — he’s massive and thick. thick enough to scare you at first glance, wondering if it could really fit. using the same calculations as optimus, we could say at full height he’s about 90cm (35 inches) long and 27cm (10 inches) thick. mass displaced, that becomes around 40cm (15/16 inches) long and 9cm (3.5 inches) thick. in short: he’s terrifyingly big, intimidatingly thick, with a dark gray shaft, black head, and glowing purple biolights. it would take practice, patience, and plenty of prayers to whichever deity you believe in that he doesn’t split you in half by accident.
his valve doesn’t fall behind either. large, fat, and delicious. outer lips black, inner lips the same shade of gray as his spike, a beautiful, plump, purple node, and biolights pulsing invitingly, luring you closer.
✴︎ Y: YEARNING
how high is their sex drive?
high, definitely. he’s happy to match your pace, never pressuring you. but if you want to keep up with him, i suggest you start training your cardio because for him, every day, multiple times a day, is ideal.
✴︎ Z: ZZZ
how quickly they fall asleep afterwards.
megatron has trouble sleeping. memories of his gladiator past and regrets from his warlord days haunt his dreams. he takes a long time to drift off, usually lying awake in silence, memorizing every detail of you in his processor.
┆SYNOPSIS: optimus has lost much in his lifetime, but with you, he dares to create something just for you both: a gift forged from his own metal, carrying a promise of forever.
┆WARNINGS: just fluff・english is not my language
┆WORD COUNT: 1.6k
❝I WANT TO WEAR HIS INITIAL ON A CHAIN 'ROUND MY NECK, CHAIN 'ROUND MY NECK
NOT BECAUSE HE OWNS ME BUT 'CAUSE HE REALLY KNOWS ME❞
⋆˙⟡ A/N: of course we can have more optimus, in fact, we should have more of him! since you didn’t specify whether you wanted fluff, angst, or smut, I went with fluff. I hope you guys like it!
── .✦ ONESHOT
it was a warm, sunny day. not a single cloud drifted across the blue sky, and the breeze that played with your hair carried that unmistakable scent of the forest: fresh, earthy, and alive. mass displaced, optimus sat on the grass, his back resting against the trunk of a tree that had clearly stood for centuries. you sat on his thigh, leaning against his chassis while reading a romance novel aloud. it was one of those rare days of peace where he could afford the luxury of a break.
with his optics closed, optimus let himself enjoy the sound of your voice. to be honest, he probably wasn’t even paying much attention to the story itself. the warmth of your body against his and the melody of your voice were more than enough comfort. “he holds my hand and brings it to his forearm. i let out a gasp of pure surprise when i see the letter ‘a’ drawn in a delicate, fine-lined font. ‘now you’ll always be with me,’ paul says with a wide smile.” you read the scene, wetting your fingertips on your tongue before turning the page.
one of optimus’s servos moved to your hair, and with his characteristic care he gently stroked the strands — no matter how many times he did this, he was always captivated by their softness “paul has only known alice for two months. why would he mark himself permanently this way without knowing if it will last?” the deep timbre of the mech’s voice reverberated through your whole body, making you chuckle. you lifted a hand to meet the servo that was still caressing you and interlaced your fingers with his digits. “because paul and alice are young and foolish. we do foolish things when we’re young, and he believes he loves her.” shifting in his lap to face him, you met the sweet glow of his optics. “when we love someone like that, we always want to carry something that reminds us of them.”
optimus gazed at you with tenderness, storing every detail of your expression in his processor. back on cybertron, it had been common for couples to carry pieces of each other as a symbolic way of showing commitment — proof they were each other’s conjunx. but with the war and the fall of the planet, even though couples still existed, the tradition had lost its strength. there were far more urgent things to worry about… like survival. optimus vented a sound suspiciously close to a sigh, the corner of his lip curling into a faint smile. “i could carry something of yours,” the mech said in a playful tone. “i’d proudly show your claim on me.”
you laughed, your thumb tracing over his servo. in that place, surrounded by nature and the presence of the one you loved, everything felt lighter. it was easy, almost too easy, to forget about the war his people were still fighting, and the ever-present fear of losing him. “if i could, i’d carry you with me all the time…” your voice took on a wistful tone, but your eyes overflowed with love. a different glimmer passed through the mech’s blue optics as a thought took root in his processor. slowly, he leaned forward, pressing his forehelm gently against your forehead before sealing your lips with a tender kiss.
₍ᐢ‥ᐢ₎
after that day in the forest, optimus couldn’t get your words out of his thoughts. from the very first moment you met, the connection had been immediate. even though at first both of you were afraid to confess your feelings, it had always been clear to everyone else that you were pulled into each other’s orbit. in his long life, optimus had been certain of very few things — but one of them was that you were his great love.
in the days that followed, the leader of the autobots carried a very clear mission in mind: to give you something of himself, something that could show you belonged with him, something that would guarantee you always had a piece of him with you wherever you went. optimus knew it didn’t matter what others saw, that what truly mattered was what you both shared. but so many things had already been taken from him. he had never truly been allowed to keep something only for himself. was it selfish of him to long for a physical symbol of your bond?
he didn’t have much spare time, always consumed by his duties as a leader, but every klik he could claim, he dedicated to your gift. sometimes he stayed online through entire recharge cycles, shaping the piece with special care and precision, struggling with something so small yet determined to make it perfect. on the nights you stayed at the base, in his habsuite, he kept the project hidden away in one of his desk drawers, making sure you wouldn’t see it until it was ready.
once, during a mission, optimus had been thrown against a cliff with such force that the impact created a crater. among the rocks and soil, he found a gleaming blue stone — bright and charming, just like you. the blow had hurt, oh, how it had hurt, but at least he had found that gem, and he knew without question that he would weave it into the project.
days of work followed, wrapped in small omissions and half-truths. optimus hated lying, especially to you, but it would be worth it. inside a wooden box, a small favor miko had managed for him, rested a beautiful necklace, crafted from his plating, carrying the little blue stone in its center and the letter “o” hanging from it. with a satisfied smile, optimus closed the box and placed it in his subspace.
you were already waiting for him at the base, sitting cross-legged on an old sofa tucked into a corner. he could have sworn his spark pulsed faster just from the smile you gave him. optimus approached and knelt down, reaching a servo to gently caress your cheek with the tip of his digit. “hi, babe…” you whispered, tilting your head into his touch, seeking his familiar warmth. “hello, sweetspark… are you ready?” he asked softly. you nodded in confirmation, giving him space to transform.
out on the road, you leaned your head back against the seat, trailing your fingers over the autobot symbol at the center of the steering wheel, feeling the seat belt tighten across your body. you didn’t know where your boyfriend was taking you, but you knew you trusted him with your life. after a few minutes, the two of you arrived at a wide, open place.
as soon as optimus stopped and opened the driver’s door, you hopped out quickly, walking forward, enchanted by what you saw. the natural landscape was breathtaking, and on the horizon the setting sun painted everything in peace. you turned to optimus and saw him approaching, mass displaced, a sweet smile resting on his lips. the orange tones of twilight bathed his metal frame, making him look even more magnificent — if such a thing were even possible.
when he stopped in front of you, he knelt again, still towering over you, but at least a little more within reach. like a magic trick, optimus pulled the wooden box from his subspace and extended it carefully toward you. “optimus, what’s this?” you asked with a soft laugh, holding the box in your hands. “open it and see,” he replied simply, his servo lifting once more to brush reverently against your soft skin.
the moment you opened it, your breath caught. inside was the most beautiful necklace you had ever seen. it was discreet, yet it carried his colors, and in the center rested the blue gem and the letter “o.” your eyes immediately brimmed with tears as you glanced between the necklace and the mech you loved.
with his usual devotion, optimus took the necklace and slipped it over your head, adjusting it carefully so that the letter rested close to your chest. “i have lost many things in my life,” he began, his voice steady but filled with weight. “i’ve sacrificed countless others for the greater good. for a long time, the only certainty i carried was that death would one day come, that my spark would one day cease to pulse.” he paused, cupping your face gently with both servos. “but now that i’ve found you, my greatest certainty is that i love you, and i want to spend whatever time we have left at your side. you are my guiding star, my anchor, my safe harbor. and so, i offer you this gift. it was forged from my plating, crafted especially for you. i want you to accept it as proof of my love and my promise to always remain by your side.”
the tears that had been threatening finally spilled, warm against your cheeks, while a shaky smile tugged at your lips. “of course i accept it, my love,” you whispered, placing your hands over his servos as he wiped your tears with his thumb. “you’re everything to me. thank you for this…” the mech leaned down, finally closing the space between you, and kissed you with slow, deep devotion, his glossa exploring every corner of your mouth.
when air became necessary, you pulled back just enough to take him in fully. a comically desperate expression overtook your face as you squeezed his servos with all the strength you had. “optimus, i don’t have anything for you. i need to give you something too, i have to claim my mech!” your voice was so serious it was impossible to resist. a soft chuckle escaped optimus as he tried to reassure you that it was perfectly alright.
Hello Shell! May I request smut of IDW Rung and a reader that deals with chronic pain? Him massaging the reader halfway through because hips start cramping up with a migraine wanting to form too.
ᝰ.ᐟ ADORE YOU・RUNG
┆PARING: rung x gn!human!reader
┆SYNOPSIS: when pain keeps you restless, rung’s quiet care soon turns into something deeper. In the dim glow of his habsuite, tenderness and devotion give way to slow kisses, whispered love, and the kind of intimacy that heals more than just pain.
┆WARNINGS: nsfw・afab reader (they/them pronouns)・soft porn・oral sex (reader receiving)・mass displaced mech・english is not my language
┆WORD COUNT: 1,3k
❝I'D WALK THROUGH FIRE FOR YOU, JUST LET ME ADORE YOU❞
⋆˙⟡ A/N: i also suffer from chronic migraines and hip/lower back pain. sorry for taking so long to reply, i hope you enjoy it sweetspark!
── .✦ ONESHOT
stretched out on your partner’s berth, surrounded by soft pillows and warm blankets, you tried to endure the migraine that stole your peace. rung’s habsuite was dark, bathed in a pleasant dimness while faint rain sounds played through the speakers — something you had missed ever since boarding the lost light.
with a soft hiss, the habsuite door slid open and rung entered, his quiet steps showing how careful he was not to disturb you. that was one of the things you loved most about him: rung showed his affection in the smallest gestures. he always served your tea at the right temperature, remembered your favorite drink at swerve’s, dug through the earth archives just to find your favorite book and read it within two days so you’d have someone to talk to about it. small things that made him such a devoted partner, and you thanked him for them every day.
he approached the berth quietly and leaned over to check if you were asleep. you moved the arm covering your eyes and opened them, smiling as your gaze met the glow of his blue optics behind his glasses.
“am i disturbing you, my starlight?” rung’s voice was low, full of concern. your hand reached up to touch his chin “you never disturb me, love.”
the corner of his mouth curved into a small smile as he leaned closer, warm air flowing from his vents above you. you caressed his audials while he gazed down with tenderness. “ratchet said there’s nothing we can do but wait. the medicine he gave you should start working soon.” a small laugh left your chest as you shifted in the pillows, trying to ease the ache in your hips. “i told you, it’ll pass, you don’t need to worry. now, why don’t you come up here and lie down with me, hm?”
rung pulled back just enough to climb onto the berth and mass-shift. he paused only for a moment to recover from the sudden drain of energy before crawling up beside you, lying down among the pillows. you turned on your side to face him, your eyes meeting his optics. one servo cupped your cheek with reverence, though worry lingered on his features. you pressed your forehead against his forehelm, your nose brushing his in an intimate gesture. he was the best partner you could ever ask for, though lately, with him so busy with his patients, it was hard to find a moment alone together. your lips found his in a slow, exploratory kiss, heavy with pent-up desire.
against his mouth, you whispered “you know what would really help my migraine?” his answer was a muffled sound, unintelligible. you continued “feel you…” rung pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. his expression was a mix of desire and care. his voice was low, optics glowing in the darkness “are you sure, starlight?”
“make love to me… it’s been days since i touched you, since i felt your warmth. i’m almost forgetting what it’s like to have you inside me.” that earned a quiet laugh from him. with infinite gentleness, rung eased you back into the pillows and positioned himself above you. his mouth returned to yours with reverence, trailing kisses from your lips down to your neck and collarbone. his servos traced your body through the lost light uniform until they found the zipper at your side. slowly, rung pulled it down and peeled the fabric away.
you propped yourself up on your elbows as he slid the suit over your hips and legs, massaging along the way. the discarded clothing was left in a corner as his lips returned to yours, then traveled lower again — across your neck, chest, teasing your nipples with warm glossa and tenderness. one servo caressed your soft hip while the other braced his weight, careful not to press too heavily against you.
rung kissed a path down your stomach until he reached your thighs. adjusting the pillow beneath you, he lifted your hips to the perfect angle. a sigh of relief left your lips and you smiled faintly at his thoughtfulness. he pressed a kiss against your clothed sex before sliding the thin underwear aside with slow care. more kisses followed along your inner thighs, closer and closer to where you ached most. warm vents brushed over your skin, raising goosebumps, and rung smiled at your reaction.
then his glossa slid over your folds, savoring your familiar, addictive taste. his lips sealed around your clit, sucking with practiced devotion that drew soft moans from you. you lifted your head to watch him, but your body soon melted back against the berth as he pushed his glossa inside, fucking you with a slow, sensual rhythm. he alternated between thrusting into you with his glossa and sucking your clit, his own muffled groans swallowed by your sex. “yes, right there… don’t stop, don’t stop, love…” your voice came out rough, intoxicated by the pleasure he gave you.
rung didn’t stop. he worshipped you with his mouth, savoring you as if you were his last meal, his servos gently stroking your hips all the while, soothing the pain even as pleasure consumed you. when your climax finally hit, you came on his glossa with a sinful moan of his name. rung savored every drop, his hips grinding against the berth, desperate to free his spike. your gentle hands stroked his helm as he climbed back up to meet your eyes. your lips sought his hungrily, sighing at the taste of yourself on his mouth. “i need you inside me… fuck me,” you whispered into his audial, answered by a low groan.
rung lay beside you, pulling you gently back against his chassis. he kissed your neck and shoulder as one servo slid down your body to your thigh. he squeezed softly, then lifted your leg with care. with a soft click, his modesty plate retracted, and instantly you felt his spike pressing against your ass. your hand reached down between your bodies, wrapping around his length, stroking a few times and brushing your thumb over the tip already leaking pre-fluid. rung groaned hoarsely into your ear, and your entrance clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled. you guided his tip to your opening, and with a slow push, he slid inside you easily.
the sensation of your hot walls clenching around him made his optics roll back as his forehelm rested against your shoulder. rung stayed still only for a few moments before beginning to thrust slowly, his hips rolling in a sensual rhythm. your moans and his blended into an intoxicating symphony, his servo still holding your thigh caressing reverently. between ragged groans and heavy breaths, rung whispered declarations of love into your ear — how beautiful you were, how perfectly your body held him, how much he adored interfacing with you, but above all, how much he loved you.
his thrusts grew firmer, faster, as both your climaxes approached. he released your leg gently and slid his servo down to your clit, rubbing in tight circles. the combination of sensations made your eyes squeeze shut, louder moans spilling from your lips. a few more thrusts and you came, trembling against him. he kept thrusting until he overloaded, spilling hot transfluid deep inside you. his movements turned sloppy and slick as he tried to prolong the pleasure, his ragged vents mixing with the pounding of your heartbeat. his frame burned with heat, systems fighting not to overheat. rung pressed gentle kisses over your shoulder, up your neck, finishing at your temple. one digit traced lazy, abstract patterns over your hip as he whispered in your ear “did your migraine ease, my starlight?” a soft laugh slipped from your lips as you closed your eyes. yes, the migraine was gone.
⋆˙⟡ A/N: yesterday i logged out of my account and couldn’t remember the password to log back in. i kept asking tumblr to send me the password reset email, but it never arrived. i almost had a heart attack! i’ve been using variations of the same password since i was 11, so i tested all the variations until i finally got back in. and when i managed to log in, the password reset email finally showed up.
Two Ideas for Human EM Fields because I see writers go with "Humans Have Weak EM Fields" and nothing else.
1. Humans have Huge Uncontrolled EM Fields
Imagining the bots coming to Earth and being completely overwhelmed/over stimulated with emotion. These tiny little creatures feel so strongly that it can even sway the emotions of a bot if there is a group .
Imagining a Jazz in a flash mob, overwhelmed by the pure joy, fun, and excitement people feel together and getting the urge to bounce and dance.
Or Maybe Knockout at a drive in theater- the movie might be ass but it's less the content of the film for him, but the feelings that come with it. Swooning at the strong feelings of love, dampered by the feeling of dismay- nothing's made him feel this strongly in a long time.
Lastly, at the Lost Light. Imagine the bots feeling your pissed off aura and being surprised when the tiny little you bounds the corner. Unnerving a few when you smile and joke even when they can feel the heat of your anger.
2. Humans have EM Fields, but they can only be felt with touch.
Imagine catching the interest of Shockwave, who stumbles when he first laid servo on you. For the first time in forever, he could feel a strong emotion. Nothing like the dull, mudded feelings he usually has- but pure joy, fear, anger. Shockwave becoming obsessed with the high of the emotion and following you like a lost dog, holding your hand to feel your daily round of emotions.
Imagining a touchier bot like Rodimus or Swerve who fall for a human as they can feel the love though a small graze against the shoulder.
Rodimus who scoops you up in a hug because he loves feeling the whirlwind of shock, confusion, and giddy joy you go through when you recognize him.
Swerve who seeks your touch after a bad day, leaning his head against yours as he feels your quiet solace that washes over you because you feel safe around him, because you love and trust him so dearly.
It's my first time requesting someone so can I request Ironhide x GN! Reader or Fem! Reader, like in a enemies to lovers kinda way
LOVE&WAR — CH. 1
Paring: Ironhide x gn!human!reader
Trope: Enemies to lovers
Synopsis: After the revelation of the Cybertronians, humanity found itself divided between the hope for peace and the fear of the unknown. To seal the alliance between species, the Inter-Species Coexistence & Living Program was created, pairing human diplomats with members of both factions in public partnerships. But not everyone believed in this harmonious future. Amid human protests and Cybertronians who saw the project as a waste of time, you were assigned your partner: Ironhide. To him, humans were far too fragile and volatile to deserve his trust. And to you, Ironhide embodied everything most difficult in a partner: outdated, stubborn and arrogant, testing every drop of your patience. The problem? There was no option to switch. Every spot was already filled, and the two of you were stuck with each other. Now, under the media spotlight and the watchful eyes of the world, only two choices remain: learn to coexist or turn the peace treaty into a ticking time bomb.
Warnings: Bound Partners AU. This story will eventually contain sexual scenes, so MDNI. Potential sensitive topics addressed in the story will include a trigger warning before the chapter.
Word count: 1,2k
❝if all is fair in love and war, i can't do this anymore❞
A/N: Dear anon who sent me this ask, I’m really sorry for taking so long to reply. I hope you like it!
── .✦ CHAPTER ONE
The revelation of the Cybertronians on Earth completely changed the course of humanity. For years, the idea that we were not alone in the universe had been purely speculative — until the war between Autobots and Decepticons became impossible to hide. Cities were devastated, battles raged across human soil, and there was a constant uncertainty about who truly held control of the planet. It took more than courage to keep Earth from becoming just another battlefield in a war that was never ours to begin with. In an unprecedented effort, governments around the world united to negotiate directly with the leaders of both factions. After years of grueling discussions, an Interplanetary Peace Treaty was finally signed.
As a symbolic gesture of this new alliance, the ICLP — Inter-Species Coexistence & Living Program — was created, though the public quickly gave it the nickname “diplomatic match.” The idea was simple: each side would provide a few of their own, and every participant would be paired with a human partner. Not just as allies, but as living proof that two species so different could indeed coexist, and as a demonstration of goodwill to uphold the fragile peace. Together, they would appear in the media, attend official events, and above all, embody mutual trust.
And that was exactly where you found yourself now. You had been present through every step of the negotiations; your diplomatic skills had been crucial in reaching this outcome. Ever since you were young, you remembered reading books and watching films about alien life, always wondering how it was possible that we could be alone in such a vast universe. The revelation of a world as strange as Cybertron, and of its towering metallic inhabitants, was nothing short of extraordinary. So when your superiors asked you to help with the peace treaty, of course you accepted without hesitation.
Now, you too were part of the “diplomatic match” program — and you couldn’t be more anxious to meet your assigned Cybertronian. All you knew was that they were an Autobot, and one of the older ones at that. You had no idea what to expect from this first meeting, but you knew you wanted to make a good impression. Since you’d be spending a lot of time together, you hoped to build a strong friendship.
You barely rounded the corner into the avenue when you saw a small crowd gathered in front of the ICLP’s operational base gates. Angry people shouted hostile words against the program and the Cybertronians, waving signs and placards. You slowed down and honked a few times so they would clear the way to the checkpoint. Some glared at you, but eventually let you through.
“Good morning, sir,” you greeted the guard at the booth, pulling up the badge hanging around your neck. It displayed your name and possibly the worst ID photo you had ever taken. The gate lifted, and you drove inside, heading straight for the parking lot where a spot had been reserved for you. Once you parked, you grabbed your backpack from the passenger seat, slung it over your shoulders, and headed toward the massive building. The place was spotless and impeccably organized, with only a few guards at the revolving doors and a receptionist seated behind a long marble counter. You approached, cleared your throat to catch their attention.
“Good morning, how are you?” you said politely. They offered nothing but a strained smile, as though being there already cost them too much effort. “I’m part of the program. I’m here for my first day.” The receptionist asked for your badge, typed some information into their computer, then returned it. “Go through that door. Someone will guide you from there. Good luck.” You nodded and walked toward the dark glass door. As soon as you stepped inside, you found yourself in a long white hallway with a single heavy metal door at the end. Cameras on the ceiling followed you as you walked. Stopping at the door, you knocked three times, and it opened with a metallic groan.
A nurse dressed entirely in white — cap, mask, long gloves — guided you to a chair, where you sat. With surprising gentleness, she took your left arm and rested it on a padded support. She asked permission before rolling up your sleeve, and when she noticed your wary expression, she smiled calmly beneath the mask “Don’t worry. I’ll just inject a small chip into your bloodstream. It’s only to allow the organization to monitor your health during the project.”
You gave a reluctant nod and looked away as she cleaned the area and prepared a syringe, the thickest needle you had ever seen. You didn’t recall reading anything in the contract about health-monitoring chips, but to be fair, you had skimmed most of it after page seven. When she was done, she placed a small child-themed bandage over the insertion site and instructed you to move on to the next room. Following her directions, you passed through another metal door and found yourself face-to-face with one of your superiors — an elderly, bald man who barely reached 5ft. He smiled without showing his teeth and extended a hand in greeting. “Good morning, dear diplomat. I trust you’re eager to meet your Cybertronian partner.”
“You have no idea how much,” you replied warmly, gripping your backpack strap a little tighter. “Then follow me, please” He led you down a corridor lined with doors, until finally stopping at one that stood farther apart. Opening it, he revealed a vast chamber. Bright lights illuminated the space, and advanced machinery hummed as it worked nonstop. You had lost all sense of the outside world inside this underground facility, not even realizing how far below ground you had gone. You both stepped onto a walkway overlooking the area, and he began explaining the basics of the base’s operations. Then, heavy footsteps echoed, and from a distance you spotted two Cybertronians approaching.
Even though you had helped with the peace treaty, you had never been this close to them, and their sheer size was still staggering. One of them you recognized instantly: Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. The other, with his crimson frame and perpetually stern expression, was new to you. As they drew nearer, the scale difference became overwhelming, you and your superior looked no larger than ants by comparison.
“This is Optimus Prime, Autobot leader. I assume you’ve seen him in the news before,” your superior said. You offered a warm smile and extended your hand. With careful precision, Optimus clasped your entire hand between two of his digits and gave the gentlest shake he could manage. Your gaze then shifted to the other mech, who seemed physically pained just to stand there “And this is Ironhide. The two of you will be partners in our program.”
Your smile brightened as you stepped closer to the railing, extending your hand again. “It’s a pleasure, Ironhide. I’m-” but he leaned down suddenly, lowering his massive face to just inches from yours. A gust of hot air vented from him, making your hair sway. “So, you’re the little child playing diplomat I’ll have to tolerate?” His deep, rumbling voice sent a shiver through you. Your smile vanished instantly, replaced by indignation. Did that rust bucket just question your professionalism and years of study? “Are you always this bitter? You certainly speak poorly for someone who’s supposed to represent his people.”
Hey! I just discovered you today and can I just say that your Prowl x reader is just so good! I loved it🥰! I honestly can’t wait for more! But I understand that life can sometimes not go the way we like, so take your time. And I think you did great on the fourth chapter 🦭✨👍🏻! I loved it! It made me laugh in, and I can’t wait for their relationship to begin to grow. Keep doing your best, bestie!
ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE — CHAPTER FIVE
PARING: Prowl x GN!Human!Reader
TROPE: Grumpy x Sunshine
WARNINGS: None
WORD COUNT: 2,1k
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The cool breeze against your face was a relief on that hot day. You leaned your elbow on the open window and rested your chin in your palm, adjusting your sunglasses with the other hand. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, and looking ahead on the road, you could see the landscape warping with the heat rising from the asphalt. It was your day off, and Prowl’s. Well, a day off from the police, because for the Autobot it was just another workday dealing with his alien affairs. “Is it much farther, Prowler?” you asked, bored. You’d been on the road so long that you had lost track of time.
Prowl grumbled a simple no, the Autobot insignia at the center of the steering wheel flashing with his voice. You two had been working together for a little over two weeks now, following the exact same strict routine every single day. Patrolling together during the day as police officers, handling mundane incidents and investigating possible Decepticon activity. At night, he would stay at your house, hidden away in the garage, trapped in his alt mode. Sometimes he would head out to drive around the neighborhood, making sure everything was in order, that the place was clear of Decepticon scum.
The mech adjusted the rearview mirror to get a better look at your face and studied your thoughtful expression. He had already noticed that for the past few days you seemed more downcast, more pensive, as if something was bothering you. Prowl wasn’t familiar with humans, nor could he truly consider you a friend, but with the forced proximity between you two, he had grown to appreciate your company and had begun to understand you — at least enough to know that when you were this quiet, staring into nothing, it wasn’t a good sign “What are you thinking about, chatterbox?”
Prowl’s deep voice pulled you from your thoughts and you gave him a faint smile, shaking your head “Nothing much, Prowler, just some ghosts from the past,” you answered vaguely, shifting in the leather seat and folding your hands in your lap. You didn’t want to remember the failures that had brought you to that moment, even knowing they would haunt you again sooner or later. “We’re here,” he said simply, coming to a stop in the middle of nowhere, on a dead stretch of road. You had only been there once before, but you remembered the hidden entrance to the secret base.
Once inside the base, Prowl opened the door on your side so you could climb out, and you did. As the mech transformed, you pushed your sunglasses up onto your head and watched intently, fascinated by the entire process, from the sounds to the way he grew, becoming imposing. It was still strange to think that your work partner didn’t actually look like the form you saw every day, but when he crouched and extended a servo to lift you up to his faceplate level, you couldn’t deny how striking he was. Different, alien, but undeniably beautiful.
Prowl carefully curled his digits around your torso and lifted you up to optic height. He took a few seconds to study your expression, your curious eyes shone with excitement and your lips curved into a wide smile. “What is it?” he asked, optical ridges furrowed in confusion. You reached out and touched the side of his faceplate gently, letting out a whistle “Wow, Prowler, up close you’re actually kind of handsome.” The mech seemed surprised at your words, shutting his optics and venting warm air in your direction, making your hair sway. The corner of his mouthplate curved in the faintest of smiles, betraying his usual stern expression. He began walking with you still in his servo “Is that a smile? Did I just make you smile?” you teased, laughing softly.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” As you both walked deeper into the base, you took the chance to observe everything and everyone. Bots were moving around, busy with their own tasks. Every now and then, one of them would pause to look at you, surprised to see a human there. Some offered polite smiles, others stared as if you were the strangest thing they had ever seen. And maybe you were. To them, you were as different as they were to you.
From a distance you spotted Optimus Prime. It was impossible to forget a figure that imposing once you had seen him. Prowl approached the Autobot leader with calm steps, and when he was close enough, he called out “Prime, do you have a moment to talk?” Optimus turned and regarded the mech before him, his gaze shifting to the human figure he carried in one servo. You gave a wide smile and waved energetically, your voice more enthusiastic than you expected “Hello, Mr. Optimus Prime, how are you? Did you do something different with your paint? It looks shinier than the last time I saw you.”
Optimus smiled behind his battle mask and returned the wave, lowering a single digit to gently tap the top of your head. “Hello, little one. I’m well, and you?” The mech holding you cleared his vents and pulled you closer to his chassis, discreetly moving you away from Optimus. The leader’s attention immediately returned to Prowl and he gestured toward the meeting room “Of course, Prowl. Please, after you.” He stepped into the room and pulled one of the chairs back to sit. Carefully, Prowl set you down on the table in front of him, allowing you to sit but keeping his servo hovering protectively above you like a shield “What would you like to discuss?”
Prowl’s posture in the chair was impeccable — straight-backed, optics narrowed. The digits of his free servo tapped against the metal tabletop, betraying the mech’s tension. His deep voice took on an even graver tone than usual “Prime, over the past weeks, I’ve identified clear patterns of Decepticon movement in this region. They are no longer content to remain in the shadows. They are becoming… careless. More brutal. There is no longer any concern about masking their presence.” He paused and projected a hologram onto the table, several red points scattered across the map of the small town and its outskirts “These are logs collected during patrols. Localized explosions, power outages across entire neighborhoods, encrypted communication signals… all closer and closer to the underground reservoir.”
You felt Prowl’s servo tighten slightly around you, an involuntary reflex of the tension he was feeling. “And not just that,” he added, “they seem to be fighting each other for territory. It’s only a matter of time before the humans notice something.” The room fell silent for a few moments until Optimus finally spoke. His voice, deep yet calm, filled the air. “Your assessment is correct, Prowl. And it concerns me as much as it does you.”
The leader set one servo on the table, tracing imaginary lines across the surface with the tip of his digits. His narrowed blue optics remained fixed on Prowl’s map “But we cannot expose ourselves recklessly. The people of Earth are not yet ready to know that our war has reached them.” You raised your eyes to Optimus, surprised at his calm demeanor, though deep down you suspected it was only a facade. Unconsciously, your hands began stroking the warm metal of Prowl’s digits. Curiously, that contact calmed you “But… what if the Decepticons do something that puts us all at risk?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.
Optimus regarded you for a few seconds, as though weighing the weight of your words “Then, little one, we will be ready to protect you,” he turned his gaze back to Prowl “But until then, we need vigilance. And prudence.” Prowl vented a low sound, almost like an impatient sigh “Prudence will not stop Megatron from draining this city dry. We need to act before it’s too late.” Optimus inclined his helm slightly, as if acknowledging the strategist’s point, but his tone remained calm as he replied “And we will act, Prowl. But not at the cost of revealing who we are to a world that does not yet understand what we represent.”
-`♡´-
The drive back home was silent. The entire way, Prowl hadn’t said a single word. “Prowler, are you okay? Do you want to talk?” your voice came out soft, tinged with worry. It took him a few seconds to answer, and when he did, his tone sounded almost weary “I’m fine. It’s just that… sometimes I think Optimus is too soft to make certain decisions.” He didn’t know exactly why he was opening up to you like that, but in that moment, it felt right “We’re in a war. We need to make choices, and not all of them are noble ones. But they’re the ones that need to be made.”
As soon as he turned the corner, he picked up your house in view. Pulling into the driveway, he stopped and opened the passenger door “Chatterbox, I’m going out on patrol. Go inside, lock the door, and don’t open it for anyone.” You didn’t argue — just nodded, pulling the garage remote out of your jeans pocket and leaving it on Prowl’s dashboard “Alright, handsome. Try not to stay out too late,” you teased, trying to lighten the tense mood before stepping out of the car.
You walked up to your front door, unlocked it, and slipped inside. The moment the lock clicked behind you, you rushed to the living room window just in time to watch Prowl speed off into the night. A heavy sigh escaped your lips. Deep down, you understood his frustration. Truth was, you could see both sides clearly, and you knew this was a ticking bomb ready to go off at any moment.
Shaking off the thought, you made your way into the kitchen, deciding on the perfect cure: a big bowl of buttery popcorn, a cold Coke, and a terrible comedy movie. The best way to end a day like this. You set the kernels on the stove to pop, then returned to the living room, scrolling through the streaming menu in search of something.
The sound of the doorbell pulled your attention. You walked to the door, leaning against it to peek through the peephole, and smiled when you saw Mrs. Jenkins. “Good evening, Mrs. Jenkins,” you greeted warmly as you opened the door, meeting the older woman’s eyes “Can I help you with something?” The woman gave you a small smile, though her eyes flicked past you, scanning the living room as if she were searching for something “Hello, dear. I just wanted to see how you were doing,” she said, her voice as polite as ever, though carrying a strange stiffness beneath it.
“Come in, please. I’m making popcorn to watch a movie. Would you like to join me?” you offered, stepping aside. She entered right away. “Make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll just check on the popcorn.” You hurried back into the kitchen, giving the pan a quick shake as the popping intensified. That was when your phone buzzed. Pulling it from the back pocket of your jeans, you glanced at the caller ID. Mrs. Jenkins.
You let out a small laugh and answered anyway, your voice amused “Mrs. Jenkins, you know you don’t have to be shy walking around my house. You can just come into the kitchen,” you teased, setting the pan aside and heading for the fridge to grab the soda. The woman’s voice came through the line, calm and cheerful “What are you talking about, dear? Anyway, sorry for calling so late. A package was delivered for me today, but I’m not home. I left for my sister’s birthday cruise. Could you hold onto it for me? I’ll be back in two weeks.”
The smile on your face vanished instantly. A cold chill ran down your spine. She kept talking, but her words blurred together, no longer reaching you. Your legs carried you toward the kitchen doorway almost on their own. When you finally had a clear view of the living room, you clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle the sound of your shock. There, sitting on your couch with unnerving, perfect posture, was Mrs. Jenkins. But if the real Mrs. Jenkins was on the phone with you… then who was that in your living room?
Author’s Note: Hello everyone! Here’s another chapter, I hope you enjoy it, and I apologize for any mistakes. I really want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the support and kind words, it really motivates me to keep writing. ⋆ 𐙚 ̊.
PARING: Megatron x GN!Human!Reader x Rodimus Prime
SYNOPSIS: Aboard the Lost Light, you, Earth’s ambassador, find yourself irresistibly drawn to Rodimus and Megatron. Amid burning desires and intense touches, the boundaries between you all are pushed beyond limits.
WARNING: NSFW, AFAB!Reader (they/them pronouns), porn without plot, mass displaced mechs, threesome, oral sex, double penetration, explicit language.
WORD COUNT: 2,3k
❝fucking two bad bitches at the same damn time
at the same damn time, at the same damn time❞
Honestly, in all your career as an ambassador and diplomat for Earth, and ever since you’d accepted the invitation to travel aboard the Lost Light, you never imagined you’d find yourself in a situation like this. Scandalous, controversial, yet unbelievably arousing. You felt Rodimus’ warm frame pressing against your back, his firm servos roaming your body, digits slipping under your loose shirt in search of bare skin, while his metal lips trailed wet kisses along your neck and nape. He nipped at your earlobe, earning a soft laugh from you as you draped your arms over his where they gripped your waist, “Easy there, Hot Wheels. I’m not going anywhere,” you teased, voice dripping with mischief. The mech vented hot air against you, making your hair stir, before letting out a low chuckle. His blue optics locked with the red ones of Megatron, who was seated, watching the two of you with a sly smile.
“He’s never been the patient type, sweetspark,” Megatron’s deep voice rumbled with amusement, his helm tilting slightly, optics narrowed as he studied you and the other mech intently. Rodimus rolled his optics, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed the fact that he wasn’t truly bothered “Sorry if the idea of having you both is making me horny as hell,” he muttered against your neck, his lips sealing over your skin to suck, leaving a reddened mark and pulling a sigh from your lips. Rodimus’ grip on your waist tightened before he lifted you effortlessly, walking toward Megatron. The larger mech adjusted himself on the pile of cushions he’d been lounging on, welcoming you into his lap as soon as Rodimus set you down. His large servos immediately found your thighs, caressing over the fabric of your pants.
Your eyes met his, and you took in his features. Just hearing his name was enough to send a shiver of fear through your former colleagues and allies. You remembered the first time you’d seen him — no longer the warlord he once was, yet still wearing that serious, unyielding expression that warned he wouldn’t be the easiest crewmate to approach. Who would’ve thought that months later you’d be sitting in his lap, aching to feel those firm lips all over your body? You cupped Megatron’s faceplate with both hands, your thumbs brushing over the smooth lines of his cheeks while holding that dense, hungry stare he gave you. You leaned in, pressing your lips lightly to his in a brief kiss, before catching his lower lip between your teeth and biting, surprised at how it yielded slightly, softer than you’d expected. A low growl rumbled from his voicebox as he tried to deepen the kiss, but you pulled back, placing your index finger against his lips. He smirked faintly, then opened his mouth to catch your finger between his denta, nibbling lightly, just enough to make you shiver without breaking skin.
Meanwhile, Rodimus’ servos slid beneath your shirt again, finding your nipples. Skilled digits began toying with them, alternating between gentle teasing and light tugs. His heated frame pressed tighter against your back as he knelt behind you, the whirring of his fans growing steadily louder as he fought to keep from overheating. You reached back until your hand found his helm, stroking along his audials “How about we get rid of these covers, hm? I want to see the masterpiece underneath…” You giggled softly, raising your arms so he could pull your shirt over your head and toss it aside. “Much better,” Megatron rumbled, his massive hands engulfing your waist almost entirely. Instinctively, you began to roll your hips, grinding against the modesty plate of the former warlord while biting your lip. One hand gripped his shoulder plating for balance while the other braced against his chassis.
Rodimus’ digits wandered up the back of your neck, threading into your hair before giving a light tug that drew a moan from your throat and tilted your head back. He leaned in, brushing a kiss against your cheek before murmuring in a slow, heated tone “So damn gorgeous.” He leaned further, pressing your chest against Megatron’s chassis and effectively sandwiching you between them. “Megs, what do you say you put that mouth of yours to good use and make them feel incredible?” The larger mech’s mouth curled into a predatory grin as he reclined until his back met the cushions “With pleasure…”
His servos slid to the waistband of your pants, playing with the fabric before simply tearing it apart as if it were nothing. You could only laugh, future-you would have to figure out how to get back to your habsuite without any bottoms. Right now, the only thing you could think about was how impossibly sexy both mechs made you feel with those ravenous stares. Just as easily, Megatron ripped away your panties, grumbling about the excess fabric hiding what he craved. His hands returned to your waist, lifting you until your core hovered mere inches from his lips. You immediately placed both hands on either side of his helm “Wait, wait, wait… Are you sure?”
Megatron’s crimson optics locked onto yours, a flicker of palpable indignation sparking there “Sit on my faceplate and put that sweet valve on my mouth, darling,” the words came slow, dripping with arousal. Without waiting for a reply, his massive servos gripped your thighs and pulled them down, your slick heat meeting his mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut, lips parting around a low moan as his glossa circled your clit before sliding lower to taste your entrance. Rodimus groaned at the sight, freeing his semi-pressurized spike and pacing around until he stood in front of you. One servo stroked along his length while the other cradled your face, a digit brushing gently along your cheek. Instinctively, you leaned into his touch and, when you opened your eyes, your gaze met his.
You felt like you could drown in that beautiful blue. Rodimus watched you almost reverently, drinking in every detail. From the moment you’d first stepped aboard the Lost Light, he’d noticed you — something inside him had shifted. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed about this, Ambassador,” he murmured, his digit trailing from your cheek to circle the outline of your lips “How many times I’ve touched myself imagining this mouth of yours…” Your lips parted, and you drew his digit into your mouth, sucking gently while looking up at him through your lashes. The sight of Rodimus stroking his beautiful spike, orange biolights pulsing and the red tip dripping with pre-fluid, made your mouth water. You opened wide, tongue out in a blatant invitation. He chuckled and stepped closer, holding his spike at the base and lightly tapping it against your cheek “Greedy little thing, want me to frag your mouth?”
Your face twisted in pleasure when Megatron’s glossa pushed inside you, fucking you with steady strokes. You immediately began to roll your hips, grinding against his faceplate in search of more friction. Megatron stopped thrusting his tongue inside you, licking from your entrance up to your clit before sealing his mouth around the sensitive nub. His servos gripped your thighs hard enough to leave marks, optics squeezed shut as he devoured you like it was his last meal, like pleasuring you was better than any overload.
You held Rodimus’ thigh with one hand while the other reached for his spike, stroking it from base to tip with a wicked look in your eyes. Your tongue swirled around the head, earning a groan from him as his servo slid into your hair, gripping without pulling. You smirked and began kissing along his length, tracing your tongue over the glowing biolights that flared brighter at your touch. When you returned to the tip, you wrapped your lips around it, sucking slowly while using both hands to pump him “Frag, sweetspark… That’s so good…” You ground harder against Megatron’s mouth, the larger mech giving you the best oral of your life. Looking down, you found his optics open — he winked before scraping his denta just barely over your clit.
Rodimus tugged lightly at your hair, drawing your attention back to his spike. You took more of him into your mouth, bobbing your head in steady rhythm. He groaned openly, savoring the sight of your eyes locked on his while his length disappeared past your lips. Each time you took him deeper, you relaxed your throat, pushing to take as much of him as possible, your moans muffled around the thick spike. With the way Megatron was working your clit and thrusting his glossa inside you, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. A few more strokes and flicks of his tongue, and you came hard, your whole body trembling as you clung to Rodimus’ thighs.
Megatron drank in every drop of your pleasure, not caring if his tanks would need cleaning afterward, delighting in the view of Rodimus fragging your mouth. As the waves of your climax faded, you tapped Rodimus’ thighs twice, asking him to step back. When he did, a thin string of saliva stretched between your swollen lips and the red head of his spike “I want you both, now. At the same time.” Megatron chuckled darkly, delivering a sharp smack to your ass that drew a moan “Sure you can handle that, darling?” Rodimus crouched, kissing you fiercely before leaning back with a playful tone “They can. They’re a greedy one.”
The former warlord opened his modesty plate, freeing his massive spike and giving it a few slow pumps before gripping your waist and pulling you toward his hips. He was even bigger than Rodimus, and for a moment you wondered if you could truly take them both. You’d done it before, but never with sizes like this, let alone Cybertronian. Still, you began grinding along Megatron’s length, coating him in your own slick. His digits slipped between you, pressing into your entrance before sliding inside, scissoring gently to stretch you open. You pulled Rodimus closer, claiming his lips in a heated kiss. After several moments, you broke away, panting, and whispered between breaths “Do it, fuck me.”
Megatron withdrew his digits and gripped his spike, lining it up. When the head finally pushed inside, both of you groaned long and low. He was deliciously thick, the slight burn of the stretch making your eyes roll back. Slowly, you sank down on him, your tight heat wrapping around him in a near-perfect vice. He’d never felt anything like it — so hot, so impossibly snug — that he almost overloaded then and there. Rodimus moved behind you, one servo braced gently on your back to guide you forward against Megatron, pressing your chest to his chassis “Watching you two frag is ridiculously hot… You have no idea,” Rodimus murmured, leaning in to kiss your bare shoulders as he stroked himself “Megs, open them up for me?”
Immediately, Megatron’s servos slid to your ass, spreading you wide. Your rim twitched under the exposure, your head resting against the heated metal of his chest. While pumping his spike with one servo, Rodimus brought the other to you and pushed a digit into your asshole, moving it a little before sliding in a second. His motions stay steady for a while, your combined moans mingling with the obscene sound of your cunt swallowing Megatron’s spike, creating a sinful, indecent melody. When he finally reaches his climax, Rodimus lines his spike up to your ass and overloads in you, letting transfluid spill while using his digits to push some of it deeper into your asshole. Then he grips the base of his spike and presses the head against your entrance, forcing until it finally yields and swallows the tip.
The sensation of being fucked in both holes was glorious, and you cling to the mech beneath you. Rodimus begins pushing in deeper, your body easily yielding to the stimulation. When he’s almost all the way inside, a long moan slips from his lips, his helm dropping forward until his forehelm rests against your shoulder “Primus… So tight and perfect…” Megatron’s movements, which had stilled for a few moments, start again gradually until he’s pounding into you with the same vigor as before. You feel incredibly full, an incomparable sensation unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. Rodimus joined the rhythm, your combined pace driving moans from all three of you. Megatron’s deep, rough growls mixed with Rodimus’ shameless sounds, both mechs lost in the tight heat and in each other.
Megatron’s servo suddenly hooked around Rodimus’ neck, dragging him down into a filthy, intense kiss. The sight of the two mechs locked together made you even wetter, your free hand slipping between your bodies to rub your clit in tight circles. A few more deep thrusts, and Megatron overloaded hard, pumping thick, hot transfluid deep inside you, his grip on your thigh bruising as he held you flush. Rodimus wasn’t far behind, pounding into you through his own climax and filling your ass with heat. Even as you were still plugged by both spikes, pinkish fluid began to spill from both holes. A few more strokes from Rodimus and rubs to your clit pushed you over the edge, your body shaking violently as your orgasm hit.
Spent, you slumped against Megatron’s chassis, Rodimus draping himself over you without putting his full weight down. Being trapped between the two was hot, almost uncomfortably so, but you didn’t care. Your breathing was ragged, matching the sound of the mechs’ cooling systems working hard to bring their overheated frames down. Megatron’s servo stroked along your side with reverence, the other brushing affectionately over Rodimus’ audials “I’ll take care of you both before we keep going…” he promised. You let out a breathless chuckle at Rodimus’ low groan, murmuring, “Yeah, Roddy… we’ve got all night.”
Author’s notes: It wasn’t even 6 a.m. when I woke up today and thought about writing this. I looked at myself in the mirror exactly like this:
WARNING: This post contains explicit sexual content involving Optimus Prime and a human partner. Do not read or interact if you are underage. Gender-neutral reader with no mention of intimate anatomy, can be interpreted by any type of reader.
WORD COUNT: 1,8k
✦ A: Aftercare
What they’re like after sex.
For Optimus, aftercare is essential. He takes a few minutes to recover while gently stroking your back and playing with your hands. Then he shifts into full caretaker mode. He carries you to a warm bath, washes your skin to remove any dried transfluid, massages your sore muscles, and covers your face with tender kisses. If you’re hungry or thirsty, he’ll immediately go fetch something for you. To him, this is a ritual that must never be forgotten.
✦ B: Body part
Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s.
Let’s be honest, this mech is gorgeous. Body tea, coochie good. But he’s incredibly humble about it.
His favorite part of his own body is definitely his servos. He’s obsessed with how they can completely envelop your small human body, even when he’s mass displaced. It’s those same servos that gently cup your face, caress your soft skin, and bring you pleasure until your eyes roll back.
His favorite part of your body? Hard to choose. He genuinely loves every single detail from head to toe. But if he had to choose, he’d say your ass. Size doesn’t matter, he just loves it. Grabbing, stroking, kissing. And when he’s giving you backshots? The way it bounces is his favorite thing.
✦ C: Cum
Anything to do with cum, basically.
Optimus has no shame or disgust when it comes to this. He’ll overload wherever you allow it, but he loves doing it inside you, just to watch his transfluid slowly drip back out.
✦ D: Dirty secret
Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs.
His dirty little secret is that he loves leaving you smelling like him, then walking around base with you so the other Autobots know you’re his — and exactly what you two just did. He acts totally nonchalant, but inside, he savors every reaction.
✦ E: Experience
How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?
Optimus is literally millions of years old. Of course he’s had previous partners, both committed ones and a few casual flings, before and during the war. But he’s also gone long periods without any intimacy because it simply wasn’t a priority in those conditions.
You’re his first human partner, so things were a bit awkward at first. Still, he’s very experienced. And given that human and Cybertronian anatomy below the belt aren’t that different, he definitely knows how to make you feel good.
✦ F: Favorite position
Optimus loves positions where he can see your face. He wants to watch your parted lips moan, your eyes roll back, your expression twist with pleasure from what he’s giving you. If he had to choose just one, it would be mating press, no contest.
✦ G: Goofy
Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous?
He’s more on the serious side. Occasionally he might let out a soft laugh or a sweet little comment, but he takes sex very seriously.
✦ H: Hair
Do they care if you're shaved or not? Do they have any preference?
He genuinely doesn’t care. It’s your body, your choice. If you prefer to stay completely smooth, great. If you like it natural, that’s great too. But if you really insist on asking, he’ll shyly admit he loves how soft your hair feels against his plating.
✦ I: Intimacy
How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.
Absolutely romantic. He’ll hold your hand, intertwine your fingers, whisper in your ear how good you feel and how perfectly you take him. He’ll kiss you over and over, praise your body, and pull you close to his chest with every thrust.
✦ J: Jack off
Masturbation headcanon.
It’s not something he does often. He’ll only do it in specific cases — like if you’re apart for too long, or if you tease him and he doesn’t have the chance to drag you somewhere private.
✦ K: Kink
One or more of their kinks.
Optimus is actually pretty vanilla. None of his kinks are too wild, but he’s very open to exploring things you’re interested in, as long as they don’t compromise your well-being.
He’s into praise (giving and receiving), light bondage, dirty talk, orgasm control, roleplay, and size kink. That last one hits hard when you’re on all fours and he’s gripping your waist.
✦ L: Location
Favorite places to do.
He’s not a fan of unusual locations. He values the intimacy and privacy of the act, so he’ll always prefer quiet places like your shared room, preferably on the berth. He also enjoys shower sex, especially when he sees your handprint fogging up the glass.
✦ M: Motivation
What turns them on, gets them going.
All it takes is one sultry look from you and this mech is painfully hard. He’s a sucker for dirty talk. Start telling him what you want to do with his spike or valve, how hot he is, how well he frags you, and he’ll have you pinned down and headed straight to pound town.
✦ N: No
Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs.
He will never hurt you. No matter how much you beg, plead, or cry for it, he won’t do anything that risks your safety. He knows exactly how strong and large he is, and even though he has control over his strength, he would never take even the slightest chance of harming you. You’re the most important thing in his life, he’d never risk that for a new experience.
✦ O: Oral
Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.
Oooh, this mech loves oral — both giving and receiving. He loves when you suck his spike and take as much as you can, and when you pay special attention to his valve, sucking on his node and licking him from end to end.
But he also adores it when you grind against his faceplate and lose yourself in the pleasure. That’s why his favorite is 69, double the fun, double the pleasure.
✦ P: Pace
Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.
Definitely slow and sensual. He likes taking his time as he frags you, savoring the way his spike slides in and out while watching your every expression. But he can also go fast and rough, never too rough, though. It depends on how needy he is in the moment.
✦ Q: Quickie
Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.
He’s fine with quickies, but it’s not something he seeks out often. He prefers having you in his arms and taking all the time in the world to satisfy you. Still, he knows that being Autobot leader can take up a lot of time, so if he realizes he’ll be busy for hours, he’ll swing by and take care of you real quick.
✦ R: Risk
Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.
Even though he likes having you walk around smelling like sex and him, the idea of being caught absolutely terrifies him. Once again, privacy is important. The riskiest he’s ever gotten was fragging you in the briefing room while most of the team was out on patrol.
✦ S: Stamina
How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?
He’s got solid stamina, can go for up to five rounds without showing signs of fatigue. But he understands that as a human, you can’t keep the same pace, and he deeply respects that. So he’ll go as long as you can handle.
✦ T: Toys
Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?
Optimus was pretty clueless about toys until you introduced him to them. And honestly? He enjoyed it. From vibrators to erotic massage gels. They’re not essential for him, but if you bring it up, he’s totally in. One of his favorite memories was when you used a double-ended dildo together.
✦ U: Unfair
How much they like to tease.
Hilariously, he tries to tease you — but he ends up breaking first. The plan was to drive you wild with dirty whispers and “innocent” touches, but next thing you know, he’s painfully hard and ready to go.
✦ V: Volume
How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.
He’s very vocal, though not overly loud. He’s not shy about showing how good you make him feel. He’ll moan into your ear, growl, gasp, beg. This mech gets lost in pleasure and ends up whining for you.
✦ W: Wild card
A random headcanon for the character.
He loves grinding you against his spike or valve while in his full-size frame. When you wrap your arms and legs around his spike and start humping, he’ll throw his helm back, optics fluttering, moaning openly.
✦ X: X-ray
Let’s see what’s going on under that plating.
Okay, math isn’t exactly my strong suit, but let’s give it a shot.
Assuming Optimus is 10 meters tall in full size, and using human proportions — where a 1.75m tall human has an average 13.1cm penis (about 7.5% of total height) — then 1000cm x 0.075 = 75cm (about 29 inches). But let’s be honest: with the Matrix and all, he’s probably above average. So let’s say his spike is 85cm, around 33 inches. Now for the diameter: for a 13.1cm length, average diameter is 3.6cm, which is about 27.4% of the length. So 85cm x 0.274 = ~23.29cm (about 9 inches thick).
My headcanon is that he can mass shift down to about 3.5m (11ft), making his spike around 28cm long (11 inches) and 7cm thick (nearly 3 inches). So: he’s huge, pretty, slightly curved, gray-bodied with glowing blue biolights on the sides and a large red tip. As for his gorgeous valve? Not doing the math here, but when excited and in full height, the exposed node would be about 9cm (3 inches), and the entrance could expand up to 30cm (12 inches). It’s beautiful, full, with a shiny red node and glowing blue biolights along the outer lips.
✦ Y: Yearning
How high is their sex drive?
His sex drive is pretty average for a sexually active mech, about 4 times a week would be perfect for him. But again, he completely respects your preferences and is more than happy to match your pace, whether your drive is higher or lower than his.
✦ Z: Zzz
How quickly they fall asleep afterwards.
He never recharges until he knows you’re satisfied, safe, and asleep. Only once he hears your steady breathing, sees your peaceful face, and feels your body snug against his, does he finally allow himself to rest.
⋆˙⟡ Just a few silly little things I think about the seekers. I could talk about these three all day, I still have a few more things in mind.
WARNINGS: I don't think there's anything particularly sensitive or mature here, but I do mention mental health topics like anxiety, insecurity, and trauma.
WORD COUNT: 1,9k
STARSCREAM
✦ Starscream has FOMO. He simply cannot stand the idea of being left out of anything. So even if he's utterly exhausted, he’ll push himself to experience and do things — especially if other high-ranking Decepticons like Soundwave or Shockwave are involved.
✦ Which brings us to the second point: he's deeply insecure. He would never admit it and hides behind a facade of superiority. But deep down, he’s just an anxious sparkling. If he walks into a room and hears a group of Decepticons laughing about something, he’ll immediately assume they’re mocking him. This causes a lot of conflict, especially with his trine, because Starscream doesn’t know how to communicate and instantly jumps into defensive aggression.
✦ Absolutely praise starved. Compliment him, celebrate his achievements, acknowledge his rare good intentions, for Primus’ sake, validate this mech. And not just in a romantic context. He’ll probably act nonchalant, but deep inside he’s kicking his legs and giggling like a schoolgirl.
✦ We all know how intelligent he truly is, and that comes from his curiosity and hunger for knowledge. Despite constantly saying things like “humans are primitive and pathetic creatures,” he spends hours reading and studying human history. He devours files on the Ottoman Empire, the Qing dynasty, pre-Columbian civilizations, the Haitian Revolution… What captivates him most are the behavior patterns, political consequences, and repeating details. He’s arrogant, conceited, and absolutely thinks he’s the last cube of energon on Cybertron, but he knows knowledge is power. And he would never let a weapon like that go unused. Still, if anyone tries to ask or peek at what he’s reading on his datapad, he instantly closes all tabs like he just got caught watching intergalactic porn.
✦ He loves being challenged and proving he’s the best at something. Want him to do something, but know he’s an arrogant bastard? Just say he couldn’t possibly do it, or act like it’s the hardest thing in the universe. He’ll instantly lift his aft from the chair just to show off how great he is.
✦ Going back to points one and two, Starscream is incredibly sensitive to rejection, especially when it comes from his trine. One cold gesture from Thundercracker or a snappy reply from Skywarp is enough to crush him inside (even if he keeps acting like nothing happened).
✦ In a romantic context, he knows he’s attractive and desirable, and he absolutely flirts without any real intention — just to keep potential admirers around. But the moment someone rejects his advances, he spirals. “Why did that little thing reject my flirting?” “Who do they think they are?” “I’ll make sure they fall for me, just wait.” And that person becomes his latest obsession, at least for the next few weeks.
✦ He definitely talks during recharge. And it’s creepy as fuck. Skywarp has multiple recordings of him insulting Megatron and ranting about how he’d be a much better leader for the Decepticons.
✦ In another life, he would have made an excellent teacher. Despite his arrogant tone, he has a true passion for teaching and is surprisingly patient with younger bots. When he starts explaining something, he gets excited, smiling brightly with shining optics. He loves teaching anything from physics to flight maneuvers, but because of the war, we’ll never truly know how brilliant he could have been.
✦ He’s afraid of attachment, because the war has taken so much from him — family, friends, lovers. He knows that with the history of betrayals and death, if he truly loves someone (in any sense), it could turn into just another weakness. And he already has so many.
THUNDERCRACKER
✦ Thundercracker constantly struggles with imposter syndrome. He’s brilliant and capable of extraordinary things, but there’s a persistent voice in his processor that keeps diminishing his achievements, yelling that he’s a fraud and that any success is just dumb luck. His trine tries to help, but sometimes it’s really hard.
✦ Even though he can’t consume it, and honestly doesn’t even want to, he absolutely loves the smell of coffee. Especially freshly brewed, which he considers far superior to machine-made. He even befriended a barista using his holomatter avatar just to sit quietly at the counter and enjoy the aroma.
✦ He tends to feel invisible sometimes. He’s the most emotionally stable one in the group (if we can even call it that), and his feelings are less “loud,” so he ends up thinking no one truly cares about what he feels. But Starscream and Skywarp do care, they just don’t know how to show it.
✦ He loves flying alone at night. That’s when he can think clearly, away from the chaos of the base. It’s also when he comes up with ideas for his stories and scribbles notes into his flight logs… but deletes them before anyone can see.
✦ He harbors deep resentment toward Megatron. Thundercracker is a Decepticon, but he has his own principles. He joined the cause for a reason, and once he realized how far things strayed from the original purpose, he was deeply disappointed. Beyond that, he will never forgive Megatron for what he did to Starscream. He saw it all up close, spent sleepless nights tending to and comforting the other seeker, and he knows exactly how those experiences shaped one of the brightest yet most broken beings he’s ever known.
✦ He is fiercely loyal, especially to those he loves. And the minute something threatens them, he becomes brutally feral in order to protect them.
✦ He has the patience of a saint and can tolerate a lot, but when he finally snaps, it’s genuinely terrifying. Thundercracker never raises his voice, so when he does, it means the line was crossed long ago.
✦ Throughout all the systems and galaxies they’ve passed through, he’s always loved watching the skies. The stars, the suns, the constellations. It gives him a sense of belonging and calm. On Earth, Thundercracker can identify every constellation, cloud type, and weather pattern. He secretly keeps records of every kind of sunset he’s seen.
✦ He’s thought about deserting more than once, but right now, the only thing keeping him there is his trine. Whenever he gets too quiet, Skywarp knows what he’s thinking and casually says, “We wouldn’t even know how to live without you, TC.” And that alone is enough to make him stay.
✦ He’s the unofficial–yet very much official–counselor of the trine, even though he rarely follows his own advice and his emotions or personal life are usually a mess.
✦ Thundercracker loves reading and consuming other forms of human romantic media. His favorite author is Jane Austen, and he’s read all her works. Pride and Prejudice is his favorite, and he enjoys everything from the classic version to modern adaptations like Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. He also loves reading other romance authors and has a particular fondness for women writers. From more recent books, his guilty pleasure is The Love Hypothesis, and though he would never admit it, he fell hard for Dr. Adam Carlsen.
SKYWARP
✦ Skywarp is smart as fuck, like, genuinely brilliant. But he deliberately pretends to be dumb or clueless just so people won’t ask him to do things. It doesn’t work on his trine, though — they know exactly who he is.
✦ Which brings us to the second point: he constantly uses weaponized incompetence. He’s perfectly capable of doing tasks flawlessly but will intentionally pretend not to know how, or do a terrible job out of sheer laziness. He doesn’t care if that ends up overloading the others, he just doesn’t want the work. Again, this doesn’t fly with his trine. The first time he tried it with Starscream, the seeker made his life miserable for an entire month.
✦ He’s absolutely impulsive and gives in to intrusive thoughts way too easily. He doesn’t think twice before acting, especially if he believes he’s right, and that’s gotten him into a lot of trouble. One time, he grabbed Rumble and shoved his head into his mouth. Just because. He won’t admit it, but he actually likes the cassette — they have a total frenemies dynamic.
✦ The moment he first heard rock ‘n’ roll, he fell in love. His favorite band is AC/DC, and every time Back In Black plays, he pretends he’s the one playing the guitar solos.
✦ Skywarp also loves reading, but unlike the others, he leans toward science. As mentioned before, he’s brilliant, and his strongest area of knowledge is species biology. Every time they visit a new planet, he makes a point of learning about the native life forms. Not because he actually cares about them, just pure curiosity.
✦ He’s a total party monster, especially in his pre-war days. He was the kind to stay up for days partying and still show up to his duties like nothing happened, without a single cycle of recharge.
✦ He’s a contemporary poet. He’s capable of saying the most beautiful and profound things — then ruins it all with a dirty comment and a sly smirk, as if it meant nothing.
✦ He became addicted to reality TV after discovering The Real Housewives, and his favorite is The Real Housewives of Atlanta.
✦ Surprisingly, he’s an artist. Skywarp draws and paints extremely well. When he’s bored, he’ll sit across from someone on the Nemesis and start sketching. He’s made detailed portraits of Megatron, Shockwave, Soundwave and the cassettes, Starscream with a cape and crown, Thundercracker smiling under a sunset. But he keeps it all to himself.
✦ He has anxiety, and his trine helps calm him down when things get overwhelming. There have been times when he teleported randomly because the anxiety got too intense.
✦ He’s extremely touch-starved. He loves hugging and being hugged, doesn’t mind public displays of affection, kisses his friends on the cheek just to annoy them, and always has at least one servo touching someone he’s close to — whether it’s a servo on the shoulder or a gentle head-pat.
DYNAMICS BETWEEN THE THREE
✦ If they’re sharing the same space, they naturally align during recharge. It’s an automatic habit: their frames fall into flight formation. Intuitive. Unconscious. Deeply comforting.
✦ If they don’t do that, they’ll likely recharge in a pile. One on top of the other, simply because it feels comfortable and safe. It brings a sense of home and belonging.
✦ They fight a lot. A whole lot. And usually over the dumbest things, like a datapad out of place or someone using the other’s polish cloth. But it’s only between them. The moment someone else tries to interfere, they immediately become defensive and close ranks.
✦ They love provoking each other just to get a reaction. Two of them might be peacefully working in a room, and the third shows up, turns off the lights, leaves the door wide open, and walks away. No reason. Just because.
✦ They have shared memory logs. Small clips of flights, laughter, training, defeats, victories, rants about other Decepticons. They store these fragments in a secret memory core, accessible only by the three of them. It’s an unspoken collective diary, a sort of scrapbook.
✦ They would do literally anything to save one another. Lie, fight, kill, die, and live. Loyalty between seekers is everything, and they’re the only family they have.
✦ They have a language of their own, one only they can understand. They use it when they need to open up more deeply, where words in Standard Cybertronian just aren’t enough.
I desperately need more of your Prowl fic🙏🙏 I love that he's slowly beginning to warm up to reader and I crave that mutual pining trope👌👌
⋆ 𐙚 ̊.𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑
ᴘᴀʀɪɴɢ: Prowl x GN!Human!Reader
ᴛʀᴏᴘᴇ: Grumpy x Sunshine
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: Mild suggestive/ironic language, reference to domestic violence (non-graphic).
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2,4k
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⋆ 𐙚 ̊.𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑
You were sleeping peacefully, your body wrapped in a soft, warm blanket. “Hey, wake up…” Prowl’s voice came out low and surprisingly gentle, but you just groaned in protest and pulled the blanket higher over yourself, mumbling, “Just five more minutes…” Before you could drift off again, a loud honk startled you awake, heart pounding as you bolted upright on the mattress. “Good morning, chatterbox,” the mech said, and you could hear the mischievous little smirk in his voice — like scaring you awake was the highlight of his day.
“Morning…” your voice came out dragged and slightly grumpy as you yawned. You stretched your arms, arching your back in a big lazy motion, and then caught sight of your reflection in Prowl’s shiny surface. You looked awful. Messy hair, slightly puffy eyes with dark circles underneath, and an absurdly sleepy expression. From the corner of your eye, you saw Prowl’s side mirror twitch, as if trying to get a better look. “You look terrible. Get up and get ready, we need to go to the station.” You narrowed your eyes in his direction. Not being able to see a face was both a curse and a blessing, you couldn’t see the judgmental expression, but you also couldn’t flip him off directly “Thanks for the pep talk, Prowler. Nothing like waking up feeling cherished.”
As you got up and glanced around, trying to decide where to start tidying up, Prowl answered in that same neutral tone that always made you roll your eyes with a small smirk “You’re welcome.” You folded your blanket and started deflating the mattress, the bot watching you silently. Humans were weird. He was certain of it. It was already strange enough to recharge in vehicle mode with such a small, fragile organic creature sleeping next to him, but it somehow got worse when that creature wouldn’t stay still. Why couldn’t you just lie down and shut off? Every time he was this close to recharge, you would move again. Tossing and turning, flipping onto your stomach, throwing your arms off the mattress. Not to mention the times you started muttering nonsense like ‘Sorry sir, I forgot my uniform’ or ‘I don’t want to go to prom alone’, or just... Straight-up gibberish between laughs.
And when you didn’t talk in your sleep, you snored. Loudly. Like a roaring engine. Prowl had to run a quick search to make sure that was normal for your species. He was honestly afraid you were dying. And frankly, he didn’t want to have to deal with that. Apparently, though, it was normal. He was also pretty sure he saw drool coming out of your mouth at some point. Disgusting. And bizarre. What hole had Prime thrown him into?
Once you finished tidying up the garage, you went back inside to get ready. You took a hot, quick shower, packed your bag with your things and uniform — remembering what Sergeant Smith had said — and then fed Olivia Benson a bit of fish food. “Girl, I really need to introduce you to a friend. He’s grumpy, but I’m sure he’s got a good heart… Well, heart-ish, I guess. But he’s a good one.” Then you said goodbye to the little fish, went to the kitchen for an apple, and headed back to the garage. “Prowler, I’ve got no breakfast. We’ll have to stop at Starbucks,” you said, taking a bite of the fruit and leaning against the doorframe. “And I want to ask you a few things about your kind. First off, why are you all so tall?”
Prowl muttered something unintelligible and, had he been in bipedal form, would’ve definitely rolled his optics. You grabbed the remote to open the garage door, and before pulling out, he projected the illusion of his avatar. The moment he stepped outside, he saw another human. Older, way older than you. She wore floral-patterned coverings, round glasses with a little beaded chain, and her short hair was pure white. She adjusted her glasses and smiled sweetly at the avatar. Prowl stared her up and down, then mirrored the gesture, flashing a wide grin.
You looked from Prowl’s avatar to Mrs. Jenkins, then back to the bot. What the hell was he doing? If that was meant to be a smile, he seriously needed more practice. It was bizarre and unnatural — crooked lips, every tooth showing. He looked like a maniac. A very embarrassing maniac. You cleared your throat and smiled at the elderly lady, walking over to the small fence that divided your properties. She shut off her garden hose and stepped closer too, bringing a trembling, wrinkled hand to your cheek and giving it two soft, affectionate pats. “You look lovely today, dear,” Mrs. Jenkins said sweetly, then glanced at Prowl and back at you. “Is that your new boyfriend?” You gave an awkward little laugh and shook your head. “He’s a work friend, Mrs. Jenkins.” She just looked you straight in the eye and said softly, “He’s handsome… a little strange, but handsome.”
-`♡´-
Prowl was driving through the town streets, his avatar’s hands stiff on the steering wheel. It was still strange to think he was a conscious being and not just a car, and that you were inside him. “If you spill crumbs from that thing on my seat or get me wet with that weird drink of yours, I swear I’ll throw you out,” he warned. You stared at the avatar while taking another bite of your donut. He didn’t even bother pretending the avatar was the one speaking — the voice came straight from him. “What’s the first rule about being inside me?”
“Don’t eat while I’m inside you,” you replied, then took a sip of your caramel frappuccino with whipped cream and extra drizzle. “But I can’t patrol on an empty stomach, so either I eat in here, or I pass out.” And honestly, he was starting to prefer the idea of you passing out. At least that would mean you’d be quiet. Ever since you two had arrived at the station, you hadn’t stopped asking questions about Autobots, Cybertronians, and their war. And if at least the questions were useful, he might have answered them with some satisfaction. But so far, the most serious thing you’d asked was ‘whose face was on the Autobot emblem’. Through the side mirror, Prowl looked at you sipping that brown sugary concoction like it was ambrosia, making strange slurping noises through the straw. “You’re going to die if you keep drinking that. Have you even checked how much sugar is in there? Because I have. According to my research, it’s not healthy for your kind.”
You ate the last bite of your donut and popped the lid off your cup so you could scrape the whipped cream with the straw “No regrets. I’d do it all again,” you said, then brought the straw tip to your lips and licked it, getting a bit of cream on your mouth in the process “Prowler, you didn’t answer me. What’s the deal with your horns?” He let out a noise suspiciously close to a sigh. “They’re chevrons.” You went back to sipping your drink. “Yeah, chevrons. That orange and white medic back at base had them too.” You couldn’t remember his name, but surprisingly, he seemed moodier than Prowl. “What are they for? Like, a dominance thing? The mech with the biggest chevrons gets the most respect? But Mr. Prime doesn’t have chevrons… Or do you use them to fight? Like, ramming heads like moose?”
What was wrong with you? What kind of questions were those? Prowl couldn’t understand how your organic processor worked — or how you’d made it this far in life using it. “Using chevrons to fight… What kind of primitive creatures do you think we are?” You shrugged and kept playing with your straw. “I don’t know. So what are they for then? Are they for attracting a mate? Like, the biggest and pointiest chevrons mean you’re the hottest and get to reproduce. By the way, how do you reproduce? Do you have a penis or a vagina?”
Prowl slammed the brakes. You jolted forward and then back, hitting your seat’s headrest and spilling some of your drink on your uniform. For a few seconds, the only sound was the engine humming, vibrating through the entire car. “Chatterbox, do you like games?” His voice was controlled, but there was something else in it, something serious and very, very irritated. “Then let’s play a game. Put as much of that sugar bomb in your mouth as you can and keep it shut tight. Whoever talks first loses.”
Prowl was annoyed. No, he was offended. Outraged. Who in their right mind asked those kinds of questions? You tried to say something, but he cut you off with a loud “shh!” and ordered you to keep drinking. He was now using the same tactic he used with Bluestreak when the younger bot wouldn't stop talking. Apparently, both of you only shut up when your mouths were full of something. Then a call came through the radio — finally, some action, even if it was something as mundane as a human issue.
“Unit 04, Unit 04, please respond. We received a report of domestic disturbance at 347 Maple Street. Neighbors reported shouting and possible threat with a object. Middle-aged female, possibly agitated, in an argument with her partner. Situation may be volatile. No signs of a firearm at this time. Unit 04, please verify. Backup available if necessary.”
“Unit 04 en route. ETA five minutes. Proceeding with caution,” Prowl replied, accelerating as he turned the wheel. You wisely chose not to say another word. When you arrived at the address, you could already see a bit of commotion out front. A middle-aged woman was arguing with a neighbor while swinging a wooden rolling pin. Not far from them, a man sat on the small front porch steps, clutching his left arm, twisted at a very strange angle, clearly broken. You and Prowl’s avatar stepped out of the car, him with his usual unnaturally perfect posture and icy blue eyes. When the woman noticed you approaching, she turned to face you, irritated, arms crossed and still holding the rolling pin.
Prowl subtly positioned himself in front of you, shielding you from a potential direct hit. You raised your hands slightly, giving a sheepish smile as you tried to talk to the woman. “Ma’am, can we talk? I’d really appreciate if you could put the rolling pin down first.” The woman stepped closer, still gripping the object. Prowl immediately pushed you back, placing himself fully between the two of you. She couldn’t have been more than 5 feet tall, extremely short, but the scowl on her face reminded you of a high school teacher you once had.
She gave Prowl a once-over, then dropped the rolling pin. “I don’t wanna talk to you, Hot Wheels. I’ll only talk to them.” You stepped out from behind Prowl and looked at the woman, encouraging her to speak. “The good-for-nothing husband of mine was gettin’ on my nerves. I was tryin’ to make a pie for our son’s wedding, and he just kept bugging me, sayin’ it wasn’t good enough. So I smacked his arm with my rolling pin. Then this nosy neighbor called the cops.” Prowl just observed the entire situation, shifting his gaze from you to the woman, and then to the other two humans nearby. And suddenly… Fighting Decepticons didn’t seem that bad. It was definitely better than dealing with petty human drama. By Primus, why him, of all bots?
-`♡´-
After your shower, you slipped into the same pajamas from the night before and sat on your bed with your phone in hand. You replied to a few messages from friends and family, and a familiar ache filled your chest. You were far from everyone, alone in this new town, and now tangled up with an alien faction. As much as you tried to keep a positive mindset and smile through it, it was hard to do that when you were by yourself. All you wanted was to curl up in a fetal position and cry. A notification sound pulled you out of your thoughts, and when you looked at the screen, a chill ran down your spine.
Sometimes I wonder if you miss it. Me, us.
I know things got out of hand that night, but you always knew how to handle chaotic situations… I thought you'd be able to handle that one too.
I miss how things used to be. I miss you.
Unknown number. But you knew it was him. And it made your blood boil. Your vision blurred with tears, but you didn’t let them fall. They weren’t tears of sadness — they were pure rage. Rage for what he’d done. Rage for being so stupid. Rage for almost losing your entire career over it.
The soft sound of the doorbell snapped you back to reality. You got out of bed and walked through the house until you reached the front door. When you opened it, there stood Mrs. Jenkins, holding something in both hands wrapped in a cloth. “Good evening, my dear. I figured you’d be hungry after a shift, and I saw your colleague’s car pulling into the garage,” she said with a light-hearted giggle. “You two must be starving! So I brought you some dinner.” You smiled, emotions tangled in your chest, and without thinking, stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug. She let out a surprised little noise and gently patted your back. “Thank you, Mrs. Jenkins. You’re the best…” You two chatted briefly before she said her goodbyes and you closed the door, food container in hand. It was still warm and smelled incredible, nothing like a homemade meal to end a long, exhausting day. Once again, your thoughts wandered to Prowl and how he must be feeling, alone in the dark garage. Even if he couldn’t eat human food, you decided you’d have dinner beside him anyway.
Outside, not far from your home, another police car sat parked under a tree, hidden in the shadows. Barricade watched intently, keeping track of every movement, especially yours. Now he knew where you lived. And he knew that damned Prowl was with you. A watchdog for some pathetic human. Pathetic. But… He had to admit, maybe the two of you could be useful in finding the other Autobots. And he couldn't wait for a rematch with Prowl.
Author’s Note: Hi everyone. I know it took me a long time to post this continuation, even after I promised it wouldn’t take so long, but some things have happened lately. To start, my 96-year-old grandmother has been showing symptoms of dementia, and I’ve been taking care of her. Anyone who’s gone through that knows how hard it can be. I also had to deal with an audit at work and since I work in finance, everything had to be perfect, which was incredibly exhausting. Oh, and my old stalker decided to crawl out of whatever sewer he was hiding in, but honestly? I’m no longer a scared girl, and I think I’m too old to keep quiet about certain things. If he bothers me again, I won’t hesitate to handle it, even if it comes to fists. And the cherry on top, I have depression and anxiety. One of my medications ran out, and it took me a while to get a new prescription. That led to a bit of a relapse, and I didn’t have the energy to do anything. I’m feeling better now and getting the treatment I need. I’m not going to make any more promises just to end up breaking them, but I’ll try to post more this week. Sorry for the rant, and for the crappy chapter. Honestly, I didn’t like it, but it was the best I could manage right now. Thanks for reading! <3
