Transformers Addict

Requests Open! Send me whatever transformers goodness your heart desires and I'll pop out a drabble for yuh! Feel free to ask me questions and shit too. Nsfw! 18+

[lovemesomerobobois]

Jetfire x Starscream

Rated M, set in the Siege Universe

Jetfire wished he could get through to Starscream, if only to make him understand why he defected. But, as is the way of life, nothing goes to plan.

Jetfire paced the ruins, anxiously checking the sky for Seekers and the ground for Decepticons. He was both desperate and worried that Starscream would show. Jetfire had pinged him the coordinates where he rested in hopes that they could make amends, but the longer he waited, the more concerned he became. Finally, in the distance, he could make out a slipstream headed by a familiar red flier. Jetfire exhaled when Starscream landed and wasn’t backed by the rest of the Seekers. 

“Talk fast,” Starscream snarled, marching forward, “before I deactivate you.”

Jetfire held up his empty servos. “Starscream, I beg you to understand why I—”

“Killed Skywarp? Abandoned me? Forsaken everything we busted our afts to gain? I’d love to see you beg, but you won’t be getting any forgiveness. Not from me or any other Decepticon.”

“Megatron—”

Starscream lunged for Jetfire, servos finding their hold on his neck. They rolled in the ruins until Jetfire managed to pin Starscream under him. He writhed, spitting in Jetfire’s face and kicking his legs.

“Let go of me, you traitor!” he howled. “I’ll tear you apart!”

Jetfire let his weight settle atop Starscream, effectively immobilizing him. “I couldn’t let Megatron destroy our entire race!”

Starscream beat his fists against Jetfire’s chassis. “You and your damned morals. Who cares about the Autobots? I thought the trine came first. I thought I did!”

“I didn’t come here to fight you, Starscream. I wanted to make amends.”

Starscream huffed and glared right into his optics. “Then get started.” He stopped struggling and a distinct snick made it clear what he was demanding. Jetfire pulled away but Starscream wrapped his legs around the shuttle’s helm. Starscream sniggered. “Beg for forgiveness and I may be inclined to show you mercy.”

Jetfire buried his face in the valve presented to him. If there was no other convincing he could do, he could at least give this to Starscream, one last time. He worked his glossa along the rim of Starscream’s valve until he was squirming again, then nipped his bright red outer node. Starscream gave a sharp cry and kicked Jetfire’s back. 

“Inside me, now!” Starscream groaned.

“But you’ve barely—”

“Now!”

Jetfire leaned back just enough to work a digit into Starscream’s barely glistening valve. He curled it against the walls, searching for sensitive clusters. As he added a second digit, he latched onto Starscream’s node and suckled it. Starscream’s hips thrashed and his spike pressurized. 

Once he calmed down, Starscream propped himself up on his elbows and stared down Jetfire. “Choose. Spike me and stay, or go back to your Autobots.”

Jetfire pulled his fingers from the other’s valve and stood up. “You can’t ask me to choose. You know I can’t.”

Starscream scoffed. “You could, but you choose not to. You chose to abandon me!” He crawled over Jetfire and ripped his spike cover off. “I’ll spike myself then.”

Jetfire let himself be laid back and watched as Starscream lined himself up. “You saw what Megatron did! Ultra Magnus didn’t deserve a death like that, and you don’t deserve to be abused either. Why can’t you understand that the Autobots can keep you safe?”

Starscream slammed his hips down, taking all of Jetfire’s sizeable spike in one painful thrust. They both choked on their moans and Jetfire couldn’t control the urge to piston his hips up into Starscream’s furiously clenching valve. 

Starscream lifted his hips. “I don’t think like a traitor,” he gasped as he dropped. Jetfire reached for his thighs, but Starscream smacked his servos away. “You don’t get to touch me,” he spat.

Jetfire spark ached and he willed his spike to stay pressurized against Starscream’s onslaught. “Megatron was going to destroy an entire race!” he gasped. “Our race! Don’t you understand that much?”

Starscream rolled his hips, helm thrown back, seeking a quick overload. “He was only going to kill the Autobots. They’re the reason our world is dead!” His valve fluttered and clenched and he bounced more fervently on Jetfire’s spike. Overload was no surprise when it came, and they both froze as Starscream rode it out. 

As he came down, he stood and Jetfire’s flaccid, dissatisfied spike slipped free. Starscream closed his panels and towered over Jetfire, disgust clear on his face. “Get out of my sight,” he said, his voice scathing.

Jetfire lay there, half shocked and half terrified. “What? No, Starscream, please,” he managed. 

“Go!” Starscream picked up the shuttle’s codpiece and threw it at him. It clanged against Jetfire’s helm and clattered back to the ground. 

Jetfire reached out to Starscream again. “Please, lay with me, just for a little while. We can talk abou—”

“If I ever see you again, I will not hesitate to kill you,” Starscream vowed.

[lovemesomerobobois]

Okay!!!!!! I know your getting a lot of mtmte, buttttttt could we get a little Drabble or whatever and mega finding out his Human s/o was a miner? Kinda like that last one just..... not like the last one?!?!? Idk I think the differences would be really cool (ya know, getting to choose being a miner, being willing, getting paid more) sooo... yeah!

Sooo they're on Earth for this one, idk why, Rodimus wanted to take a pitstop I guess and lets say something happened so they’ve been there while. I know this doesn’t do your idea justice, but I hope it is at least a little in the ballpark. I am also very very very sorry that i took so long to answer! When Megatron realized how he felt about you, he worried he was crossing a line. For a human and a Cybertronian to be. . . romantically involved seemed dangerous to him, yet he was drawn to the companionship you weren’t shy to offer. Maybe your openness towards him made you less organic and more his close equal. It was strange, when you showed up to the ship coated in filth, he was too busy checking you for injuries to be disgusted. “Sorry for the mess,” you said. “I didn’t get a chance to shower after work. We were blowing fuses and one of the tunnels collapsed so—” Megatron’s optics snapped up to your face, so intense you stopped in the middle of your sentence. He stared at you, or right through you; It was hard to tell. “What’s wrong?” you asked, voice nothing but a hush. He backed off, where he was knelt to your level he now stood, towering over, looking down at the speck of you. “Are you forced to mine?” he asked, rage lowering his tone. “What? No, not at all.” You tried to crane your neck to see his face, but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. “I mean, my gramps and my father were both miners so I guess it’s sort of in the family. But I’m not forced. I could do anything else if I wanted, you know.” Megatron hunched a bit to see your face. “Are the conditions not horrific?” You frowned. “They used to be, way back when, before all the tech. Before, yeah it was bad, still is in some regions, but here I get paid triple the minimum wage, health care, all that. If anyone’s hurt, they get airlifted out to the closest hospital. Last time someone was seriously injured like that was when I first started: A big rig fell and crushed a guy.” His expression was finally starting to loosen up as he understood. You were no slave, and you probably never would be. Strange, how such a young race could have gone through all the stages of social and economic evolution that took Cybertron centuries. Why? “Hey.” You awkwardly patted his leg, trying to be comforting but still uncertain. “Did something happen?” Megatron tried to smile but it was more a distracted grimace. He waited so long to answer that you weren’t sure he would. “Before the war, I was nothing but hardware in a mine. The horrors that I witnessed. . .” He cleared his throat and carefully picked you up. “It was what spurred me to revolt.” You saw the pain in his optics, a shadow of the memories that still haunted him, and reached out to caress the side of his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Why should I have? These things are of the past and I do not wish to relive them. Although. . .” He closed his optics and held you close to his face. “I would much rather spend my time in the moment, with you. After you’ve bathed.”

[lovemesomerobobois]

Hmmm could...we get mtmte megs dealing with a totally hammered s/o But then they start saying how insecure they are when they with him because s He’s SO AwESoMe

*taDA*

Megatron told you, how many times, that you should limit yourself, yet there he was, all but carrying you out of the bar. You just had to go and do shots with every bot on the ship, didn’t you? He scoffed to himself but when you tripped on your own pedes, he focused on keeping you steady. You were muttering something while he hoisted you up with one arm around your shoulders and the other on your waist. 

You lifted your head just enough to give him a glassy-eyed smile. Your head dropped again, and Megatron worried that you lost consciousness but then you grabbed ahold of his hip and straightened as best as you could. He watched you carefully, if not uneasily, but when you fixed him with those vividly stubborn optics he couldn’t help but smile. 

“What?” he asked. He was only slightly peeved that you were just standing there, staring at him like something out of a museum. 

“You’re fucking awesome,” you blurted. 

As soon as you said it, you slapped a servo over your mouth and Megatron reeled back as much as he could without letting go of you. The last thing he wanted was to get puked on. 

“Let’s get you back to your room,” he urged, but you weren’t budging now.

You slapped his arm weakly. “No, let. . . let me tell you,” you grumbled. “You’re just, just so amazing an— and I don’t. . . I’m not good enough for you, not what you deserve, you know. You should, should leave me for like a god or like some royal being. And—”

Megatron grabbed your chin and lifted it so he could look into your optics. He studied them for a moment, searching for the meaning behind this and finding a frightening amount of insecurity and anxiety. Your optics welled up with tears and he bent to kiss your forehelm, pulling you in for a full-body hug. He didn’t care that you reeked of booze, all that mattered was that he hold you till the shaking and tears stopped and you relaxed into his grasp. 

His face in your neck, he rumbled, “You are more than enough.” He leaned back enough to brush your drunken tears away with the pad of his thumbs. “You will always be worthy of much more than me.”

[lovemesomerobobois]

Eeeee nice impactorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr it was beautiful!! Could we get some more? Uhhhhhh maybe something like that ‘Optimus defends a/o’ thing ya did??? Or well also kup too I guess so that’s not original or anything lol

Shit I’m so sorry I didn’t get this done till now!

Okay, so this is set after he’s cellmates with Whirl on Garrus 1 and just a little bit after he’s joined the wreckers. (The IDW version) So he’s also kinda young. Hope you like it :)

It felt like it’d been ages since Impactor could say he was happy. Part of it was probably due to the buzz he was riding, but with you under his arm everything seemed light. He couldn’t think of the right string of words to tell you, so he tugged you closer and dropped a kiss atop your helm. You looked up and smiled and he swore he could feel his spark melting.

“What was that for?” you asked, grinning. 

He shrugged. “Felt like it.”

You freed an arm and slapped his ass in minor retaliation, and laughed at him when he jumped. The moons shone down, lighting up the city streets so that he could see the way you squinted at him, your optics casting a neon sheen on your cheeks, or maybe it was the booze making him see things. How long you’d waited for him, and now that he was back from Garrus 1, these moments felt more like pleasant dreams than reality. Impactor was still worried, sometimes, that he’d wake up just before he could kiss you, but he never did. 

You shook his arm gently. “What’s wrong, baby?”

He smiled and focused back on you. “Nothin’ at all. I was just thinking. . .” Thinking that he wouldn’t know peace without you. 

As you two rounded a corner and headed towards your apartment complex, three shadows detached from the wall and rushed you. Impactor tried to push you out of the fray, but one of the mechs snagged your arm and had you on the ground, twisting and spitting in your face. The other two attacked Impactor, and he fought like all Hell was breaking loose, struggling to get to you. He could vaguely hear you cursing your attacker, but he was so much bigger and there was little else you could do. 

Impactor floored one of the mechs with a swipe at his jaw and shoved the other away enough that he could barrel towards the one pinning you down. “Run,” he snarled. He stood, already squaring off against the mechs. 

You scrambled to your pedes, optics wild, and bolted out of sight. A moment later and you were back, a pair of hefty bots trailing you. The strangers descended on the fight and, just like that, the table turned. Impactor swiped energon from the corner of his mouth but didn’t stop fighting until all three attackers were knocked flat on the ground. Even then, one of the strangers had to pull him away so he stopped kicking their sides. 

The second the mech let go of Impactor, he limped over to you. “Are you hurt?” he asked, voice frantic.

“I’m fine,” you said. 

He opened his arms and you slotted in against his chassis, but he was so stiff. “I’m sorry,” he husked, servos tightening on your hips. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, but you knew that wasn’t entirely true. Knowing that he already felt so weak and useless convinced you to not mention your attacker’s vendetta for Whirl. It didn’t matter enough, you thought. “I am alive and you are alive, that’s all I care about.”

Impactor shook his helm. “I want to do better than that, for you.” After a moment, he asked, “Who were those other mechs? The ones you brought.”

You looked up and grinned. “No idea. I said I needed help and they just came.”

He snorted. “Benefit of being cute.”

“Yeah. Now let’s get you to a hospital.”

“Can’t we just go home?” He fixed you with glazed-over optics and added, “I want to hold you and pretend like I’m worthy of it.”

You lifted his chin and kissed each of his cheeks. “You will always be worthy of my love. If you ever forget that, I will be there to remind you.”

[lovemesomerobobois]

To my few followers, I swear I'm trying to be active. Between work and school haven't had much time for anything other than sleep. but FUCK SLEEP. MUST CREATE

[lovemesomerobobois]

Coullld we get reader x idw starscream? Post war, they’re maybe helping him with a nightmare and stars realizes he’s in love? It better be returned 😑 or I ain’t giving u a cookie lmao 🍪

Holy shit I’m so sorry this too forever!!!!! I don’t need any cookies, I’ll give all of mine to you. Please forgive me!

Starscream was rarely one to admit his troubles, even to you. Centuries of emotional suppression had scarred him and built walls in his mind. As much as you hated it, those walls would remain, no matter how long you two were close. Starscream already kept you at arms length as is and it was difficult to imagine things any other way. As desperately as you yearned for more, you accepted that friendship was as close as you would get to him. 

Trying to make sense a post-war Cybertron was difficult enough, but you knew there was more to the restlessness that had been consuming Starscream lately. More often than not, he remained holed up in his office, refusing to take rations and calling in to all of his meetings. 

Usually you waited until he was in his office to try and talk to him and convince him to eat, but today you woke up extra early to wait for him outside his apartment since he was only two blocks away. Technically you weren’t supposed to be able to get into the complex but the security guards were suckers for a pretty face. So you were there, waiting with two cubes of freshly purified energon and an engraved techno flower, with delicate blue petals and his name etched into the stem. You hoped to catch him on a good day, maybe cheer him up. 

You weren’t expecting the scream. When it happened, you lurched forward and checked the hall for anyone else. It hadn’t struck you before, but there weren’t any other apartments on this floor. There was another cry, sharp and warbled, and you dropped everything. You didn’t think twice before barreling through the door. The cries were quieter but more frequent when you stumbled through and into the freezing cold suite. 

“Starscream?” you whispered, briefly glancing around. The living room was spotless, the only sign of forced entry being the door you crashed through. 

A garbled, choking sound echoed through the suite as you crept closer to what you assumed was a bedroom, where the noise seemed to originate. Another cry and you were through the door, standing over a thrashing Starscream. He whimpered in his sleep and rolled over in his berth, legs kicking out and fists clenching the sheets. You inched closer, servos outstretched as if to placate him. His whines turned to distinctive snarls and he curled in on himself, protecting his vitals. Your spark broke for him, broke for his pain, broke for everything he could never tell you. You reached out, chancing a touch to his shoulder. As an afterthought, you extended your EM field, attempting comfort. 

Starscream’s helm snapped to the side and his optics flew open. His mouth gaped and closed again and you tried to ignore the tears in the corner of his eyes and the energon on his lips. He stared at you with blind optics. 

“M-megatron. . . please,” he whined. “Please.” He covered his face with shaking servos and tried to roll away, but your gentle servo kept him in place. 

“Hey, hey listen to me,” you whispered, kneeling next to the berth. “Megatron is gone. He’s gone, you’re safe.” Starscream trembled and said nothing so you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around him and comforting him as best you could. “I’m here for you, Starscream. I promise, okay?”

“You’ll leave.”

Your spark ached for all the suffering and loneliness that his voice was soaked in. How do you convince a mech who has never known trust and loyalty that you will never leave him, that you are more than a friend, that you would do anything for him, even if it meant laying down your life. Rather than speak, you settled for brushing his tears away with your thumbs. 

_____ pov shift cuz like yeah i didn’t know how else to transition

Starscream never expected to wake up to a familiar face and comforting hand, least of all from you. After all the time he spent making sure he didn’t allow his feelings for you to strengthen, here you are, holding him as if he was the most precious thing in the world. And what could he do but crumble. 

So long, so long he spent giving Megatron his everything, and all he gets is the trauma and the nightmares, the physical and mental scars that will never heal. For millennia, Starscream devoted himself to someone who couldn’t care less, and the feelings you incited in him, the warmth and peace, they were so foreign that he fled from them. But you came anyway. What did that mean?

“Starscream?”

He looked up, meeting your gaze for a fleeting moment. 

“What can I do?” 

Helm tucked into your lap, he whispered, “Love me.”

“I already do.”

“Liar,” he hissed, voice bitter. He tried to untangle himself from you, but you kept him steady. 

“I will never lie to you, Starscream,” you said. “Never. I love you, and no matter how much you try to hide or how much you struggle, I will always be here for you.” Your optics fell and it was his turn to hold your chin up. “I know it isn’t easy to love after what you’ve been through, and if you don’t want this I understand.”

Starscream never felt so warm, his spark throbbing with nothing but peace and fulfillment as he pulled you into a kiss. A kiss powerful enough to put both of your feelings into words, give them tangible meaning.

[lovemesomerobobois]

Oooo could we get some impact or and book worm s/o fluff?? Maybe post war??

Ok so for some reason this was one of the hardest prompts. . . I couldn’t figure out a decent timeline for this sucker, so I ended up settling with “after Garrus 9 but before Earth.” So imagine Impactor’s just returned to his so but they know he’ll be leaving again. 

Rated G Reader x Impactor

You knew you didn’t have long. Impactor was always on the move, never one to settle down. His next “deployment” if you could even call them that anymore, was probably lurking outside the door already. At least you got him to yourself now. You glanced from the classic Cybertronian novel in your grip to the mech sprawled out on the couch next to you. He wasn’t asleep, only watching you through half-lidded optics. 

You set your book in your lap and smiled. “I missed you.” It wasn’t the first time you’d said so, but it felt more important every time you did. Even if it sometimes seemed random. 

Impactor grinned and looped an arm around your shoulders, practically pinning you to his side. He kissed your cheek softly and whispered, “I know, doll. So let’s make up for lost time.”

You looked away to your forgotten novel. “Sorry, I—”

He snatched up the book and propped it open on his knee. “Now, where were we?”

“What?” you asked, only partially astonished but certainly pleased. “Don’t you want to go to the bar or . . .”

Impactor’s amused gaze left you speechless. For so long, you’d waited and waited for his return and seeing him now was like seeing a crystal reflect the early morning sun. Absolutely stunning. 

“I’d rather stay right where I am,” he said. He began to read aloud and you snuggled in close, clinging to him as his voice rang like a heavenly choir in the apartment. A choir comprised of lifelong smokers, that is. And yet, you adored every second of it. 

--Idk why, but every time I read the Wreckers comics, i imagine he’s got a super gruff voice so yeah

[lovemesomerobobois]

Do you write for kup from idw?!? If so do you think we could have him introducing his s/o, whose like, REALLY CLASSY AND POSH but not snobbish, to the wreckers,? And if you want more maybe s/o is a beast in battle when kups hurt?? Or just basic headcanons on him XDD

Ok, so I got a soft spot for all the old wrecks, Kup definitely included, but I’m not that familiar with the other Wreckers, so yeah. ANYWAY idk if I got the classy right but i hope you like it, anon! ❤

Rated m for language and canon-typical violence. ~

Of course their transmission had been intercepted. Why wouldn’t it be? Not as if Springer and Kup had taken precautions when setting up the rendezvous. Kup cursed as he steered the ship, avoiding shots from the ground and air. You manned the guns while Kup circled overhead the other Wreckers fighting on the ground. Everyone seemed to be holding their ground, but the rogue Decepticons were heartier than the usual run-of-the-mill crew. A challenge, but certainly not an impossible one.

From the gunner seat, you called to Kup, “I am running out of ammunition fast, darling!”

“Yeah, ‘m workin’ on landin’.”

You loved watching him work, so focused, brow furrowed and a cigar pinched between scowling lips. For as long as you’d known and loved Kup, it was moments like these when he was most invigorating, dangerously intoxicating. You soaked it up, even as you took fire on the enemy.

“Fuck it,” Kup snapped, landing atop a cluster of Cons. 

The second you were touched down, he shot up and out the door. You were tight on his heels, blaster at the ready. Outside, you were immediately flocked by enemies and separated. You thrashed, blocking fists and grubby servos on all sides while taking shots to the back. In all the chaos, you refused to be knocked down. Never again would you fall to your knees before a Decepticon. There was no pride in that. 

Roughly a mile away, Springer and the rest of the Wreckers were surging through the mass of Cons, calling for Kup. You swiveled to try and find your partner, but caught a right hook to the jaw instead and staggered backwards into another Con. The mech’s breath was acid in your nose, but when he grabbed you by the shoulders and lifted, you could just make out Kup. He was a couple hundred yards away, pinned to the engine of his own ship. His face was bloody and a mech was sinking a dagger into his midsection while others held his arms and legs.

The Decepticon crushing you whispered something filthy into your audial, but you’d already clocked out. Nothing and no one but Kup had your focus. You kicked back against whoever confined you and burst into a sprint the second your pede found sufficient footing. Shoulder down, running at full force, you cleared your own path to Kup. You lunged just as the mechs holding him opened their mouths, perhaps to warn their comrade, perhaps to mock you, but you never did hear them. Maybe there was nothing to be heard. 

The Con with the knife whirled, but your servos were already closing on his throat, your blaster under his chin. A single bullet at such close, inescapable range did exactly what you’d intended. It blew the mech’s brain module out. Not your cleanest kill, but awfully satisfying. The mech was dead before he hit the ground. 

The other Wreckers pulled up and made quick work of the straggling Cons. You knelt before Kup, holding a rag to his stomach. He glowered and started to protest, but you shushed him with a chaste kiss. 

“I know, I know,” you said, “you didn’t need my help.” You never believed that when you said it. 

Kup scoffed and looked away, avoiding your piercing gaze. He used to be thrown off by those keen optics of yours. They caught everything on the surface and in his spark and he pretended like that sort of vulnerability didn’t terrify him. Maybe it was thrilling too, he still couldn’t tell. All the centuries Kup had been alive and he still couldn’t figure himself out. You helped him to his feet and kept an unassuming arm around his waist so he could lean on you without being too obvious about it. Not like he’d been stabbed or anything. 

They were surrounded by mangled corpses, but this wasn’t anyone’s first battlefield. Impactor, oddly enough, was the first Wrecker to formally introduce himself. That had been the whole point of this meet-up. He extended a servo to Kup and then to you. 

“Impressive work,” he said. 

Perceptor mumbled a distracted greeting as he forced Kup to sit back down so he could fix the older mech up. Springer, Twintwist, Pyro and Topspin introduced themselves in that order. 

“Nice to finally make your acquaintances,” you said. That earned you a round of strange looks. You couldn’t imagine how you appeared; ragged, to say the least, covered in energon that wasn’t yours, with no shine left to your polish. But you figured the most foolhardy group of die-hard Autobots would be used to that. 

In the back of the group, Topspin muttered something inaudible. Springer, ever alert, snapped at him to speak up. Topspin grumbled something else and then asked the dreaded question. 

“Aren’t you kinda young for ole Kup?”

Kup swatted Percy’s servos away from his wounds. “Fuck age,” he snarled. 

You smiled at his curtness and added, “Age is as irrelevant now as it has ever been.”

“Pfft, like function?” Twintwist muttered. 

You stood a bit straighter, as if that were possible, and neatly folded your servos before you. “And what will you do about this. . . unseemly gap —although it wasn’t such a dramatic difference— in years?” It was a challenge, naturally, although you hoped no one accepted it. You just met these mechs, but you would defend yours and Kups’ relationship to your death. Even if it was from the Wreckers. 

Springer snorted. “No one’s going to get in between you two.” He came up and clapped you on the back as if you were old pals. “Not after seeing you fight.”

“Damn straight, no one gonna do shit,” Kup snarled. “I’ll fight all o’ Cybertron ‘fore anyone takes my conjunx away from me.”

You smiled, warmed by his declaration. You knew all too well that this stubborn old mech would go to the ends of the universe for you, and you wouldn’t hesitate in doing the same.

[lovemesomerobobois]

Okay, so LL megs are trapped in a cave in, megs is tuck so s/o starts mining, like, real mining and they’re pretty good, turns out they just learned how to mine because they were originally high class and feel sick with themselves with what miners had to go through so... yeah? Maybe some self hate because they just hate that they where such high class snobs and they’re terrible at anything they needs work??? Idk I’m sorryyyh XD

Okay, so i feel like this is some heavy shit and they would totally talk about it before hand, so like, is developing relationship okay? That’s what I’m going with, but i can change it too. BTW, love this idea!!!! 

Rated G, not very soft and fluffy. . . sorry

Their little escapade  was supposed to be reconnaissance only. Ultra Magnus had stressed that well enough before departure. The Lost Light’s planetary scanners were disrupted by the electromagnetic debris in the planet’s atmosphere, but of course that wouldn’t stop Rodimus. He just had to know what was on the thinly-veiled, rocky planet. Abandoned rocky planet. 

Surprise, surprise, rocks. Huge red-brown fissures splitting the murky sky, and crawling tunnels burrowing into the planet’s core. 

Megatron and his newfound partner (their courting had been declared only a week earlier) had split off from the group of Bots exploring the surface to poke around the tunnels. The two walked in companionable quiet, listening for any strange sounds that might indicate danger. Who knew what odd creatures dwelled in the dark ahead of them). 

A mile or so deep, Megatron stopped to examine a corroded box of sorts that was tucked into the shadows. He’d noticed the scars in the surrounding rock earlier, the silver marks where tools once struck, but so far the mine appeared barely tapped. Megatron didn’t have to call for his partner, they’d already turned towards him, optics wide in the dark. They backtracked and joined him at the box. 

Stooping down, they brushed a thick layer of dust away and asked, “Tools, you think?”

They looked up and Megatron thought, for a second, that they looked too innocent to be in a mine, abandoned or not. He nodded and glanced behind him, as if some lone remaining miner was lurking out of sight.

“I am wary,” he started, “of a mine barely touched, yet barren.” 

His significant other stood. “We aren’t very far in, though.”

“No, we are not. But do you see any sign of valuable minerals?”

“No, but—”

The tunnel trembled, scattering small chunks of rock and kicking up dust. Without thinking, Megatron threw himself on top of his partner and clutched them tight, his frame the only shield they had. The roar of the quake and falling rock was so deafening that, when everything stilled again, there was an incessant ringing in both bots’ audials. 

“Megatron?”

The voice was muffled and he wasn’t certain that someone had spoken until something moved under him. They said his name again, like they were summoning him from Deep Space, but instead of floating in nothingness, he was pinned down. He turned his helm and met familiar optics. He blinked slow, convincing himself that his lover wasn’t a hallucination. 

They wriggled from underneath him, fighting debris as they did. Thankfully, they weren’t injured and managed to dig their way to a small pocket of space, a miniature cave in the collapsed tunnel. 

“Can you hear me?” they called.

Megatron groaned, hoping they heard. Only minutes later, a sound from his nightmares rang out, louder than the ringing in his helm. It came again and he shuddered, diverting his attention to the pain in his legs and the pins and needles gathering in his joints. He teetered on the line of consciousness and emptiness, and he wasn’t sure what his reality looked like anymore. Was there someone chipping away at the rubble crushing him, or was that a demon from his past announcing its approach?

_ POV SHIFT cuz. . . yeah :)

With every swing of the pickaxe, Megatron’s partner pushed on. They had to reach him, no matter how much rock and broken earth stood in the way. They remembered their first cave-in. An early detonation on the surface had sent shocks down into the mineshaft they were working in. Three mechs died, and they —the rookie— were trapped with the others’ corpses. They cringed to think how long they would’ve been left down there had their sire not been in the Senate. 

They swung extra hard, relishing the burn in their shoulders. They took a break to send out another distress signal to anyone in range and check on Megatron. 

“Megatron, are you awake?” 

No response. 

“I’ve got to be close,” they muttered to themself. 

“A miner,” Megatron managed, “but you knew Senator Proteus.” His voice, warped with pain, echoed what little distance there was left between them. Of course he knew about his partner’s old Senate connections, but only on a superficial level. 

“I. . .” How could they explain this to Megatron? Their relationship was only budding, and full disclosure hadn’t been a condition of their courting, but it felt wrong to keep this from him. They opted for insufficiency. “I wasn’t a miner. Not like you.”

They returned to their work and Megatron returned to his plagued silence. 

Finally, finally, Megatron was uncovered and, by some miracle, the tunnel hadn’t collapsed from all the movement. His legs were ruined, mangled and completely useless. So, without a word, his partner propped him up against a sloped rockwall and continued their work, desperate for an escape route. It was difficult ignoring Megatron’s unabashed gaze, his evaluating and cynical optics. 

“You move like a miner,” he said, “but you aren’t a miner.” The question in the statement was clear.

His partner didn’t stop chipping away at the rock. “I was born into the upper class.”

“And your connection to Proteus?”

They couldn’t tell if Megatron was furious or hoarse from the dust.

“My sire, but I’m a bastard child.” As if that remedied anything. They paused to chance a glimpse of Megatron. Flat face, impossible to read. “I hated it, every second of it.”

He snorted. “You hated your privilege? I pity you.” Angry, definitely angry.

His partner, though they doubted that title would be lasting much longer, slipped on their next swing. The blade of the pickaxe snapped off its base and skittered off the rock, slashing the back of their servo. They dropped the handle and sank to the ground.

“I couldn’t stand watching the lower classes struggle while grandeur was a commonality for me. So, I blackmailed Proteus.” They couldn’t look up, wouldn’t dare meet Megatron’s gaze. “I was young and naive, making demands about an equality I knew nothing about. Proteus muzzled me, but I was dumb and stubborn. Behind his and my carrier’s backs I snuck into the mines and worked, just one of the numbers. I documented everything I witnessed, but even after it was published, nothing changed.” Recounting it all made them feel dirty and they hung their helm. “I wasn’t going to let my socioeconomic standing blind me to the horrors that so many others experienced daily.”

Megatron said nothing for a while. When he did speak, it was a sort of hush, but no less powerful than his normal tone. “What you found in the mines was truth, yet you would have never found it had you not flaunted your privilege.” He took a slow, grating breath. “So tell me, what good came of it all?”

They risked making eye contact. There was no rage in Megatron’s optics, only the exhaustion of a mech who’s lived a thousand lives. 

“What good comes from anything?”

Megatron thought a moment then beckoned them closer and took their bleeding servo. He examined the wound before pulling a cloth and bandage from his subspace and doctoring it. His grip was warm and careful.

His partner watched him work. “What good did come of it?” they asked. 

“Every time I believe I know, it is only my imagination.” He finished wrapping their servo and tugged them closer. “There is no shame in not having an answer,” he said.  

The two leaned against one another in quiet contemplation, lost to themselves and only existing in their relation to the other. Mining could wait.

[lovemesomerobobois]

Ahhhhh IM SO BEHIND ON ASKS

I’m sorry!!! I promise I will get to everyone soon!!

In the mean time.... if Swerve and Magnus banged, Swerve would totally spark up Mags. And then gave itty bitty sparklings!!!!! (I need to write this too)

[lovemesomerobobois]

Could we get some LL fort max fluff?? Maybe the reader is helping him through some of his ptsd?? Or maybe they just say that no one will ever harm him again, and well, while that’s impossible XD he can’t help but trust them????? Idk

I swear I never forget asks!!!! 

rated t (mention of past trauma) Max and his Bot SO comforting each other in the midst of panic. Enjoy! 

You were caught up in a meeting with Ultra Magnus when Max’s ping came through. You excused yourself  while Rodimus got yet another lecture about professional report etiquette. Already on the move, you called Max. Panicked invents were all you heard when the comm connected. 

You broke into a run. “Where are you?” you asked, hoping on all hope that he was safe. As safe as he could get, at least. There’s only so much sanctum to be found when the mind is the enemy. 

Still no answer. You struggled to swallow around the sudden lump in your throat. “Max?” you croaked. 

Finally, two clicks resonated over the comm. It was part of a code you and Max were still developing. So far, there was one click for habsuite and two for medbay. You pivoted and changed directions. The line remained active and you talked while you ran, praying that the sound of your voice would help ground Max. 

You practically barreled through the automatic medbay doors when they took two seconds too long to open. Ratchet was already waiting, datapad in one servo and the other free to reach out and steady you. He talked you through your panic until you stopped shaking —you didn’t realize you were until the clattering stopped. 

“Fortress Maximus is stable,” Ratchet started. “He admitted himself when he noticed warning signs.”

You ran a servo over your helm and back, worrying the metal. “Flashbacks?”

Ratchet nodded. “He’s still coming out of it, but I’ve put him in Recovery. There was an open room without any medical slabs, but he refused to see anyone, even Rung.”

“Take me to him.”

~

Max had barricaded the door with what meager furniture was available to him, and you and Ratchet could only get the door open a crack. So you sat on the floor by the opening and talking, mostly to yourself for nearly half an hour. When Max’s sobbing and warbled pleas for mercy tapered off, you spoke some more, eager for a positive reaction.

“Max? I know you’re in there, and you don’t have to let me in, but I’ll stay here.” Your helm thunked against the wall as you sagged into it. “I’m going to guard you. You and everything you hold dear. I will never leave.”

Quiet and feeble, a voice slipped through the crack in the doorway. 

“Y-you. . . you are all I hold dear,” Max whispered. 

He opened the door just enough to slip his servo through. You took hold and he squeezed as if attempting to comfort you. Although you couldn’t see his face, you could hear his tears plinking off his frame, the tears of a vulnerable mech. 

“Max. . .” Your spark ached for his, ached to give the most precious thing you possessed to him, to offer him every part of the warm familiarity he needed. You held his servo in both of yours and kissed each knuckle, where once he’d been dismantled. “No one will hurt you again,” you said. “Ever. I’ll stop them all; I will keep you safe!”

Max squeezed your servos again. 

“I know you will try,” he said.

“Until my spark gives out!” you declared.

A beat of silence passed.

“I love you,” Max whispered. Then, loud enough to be heard in the room over, “I love you!” The most potent declaration he could make when his soul was split in two and he battled himself daily. So much pain, yet he could offer his love. It was the first time he told you that and it left you trembling with grief and rage and adoration, and it was all so much. 

You brushed your tears off his knuckles where they fell. When you spoke, you whispered to hide the strain of emotions in your voice. 

“You’ll never know pain again, I promise.”

[lovemesomerobobois]

OMG you write Optimus so well!!! Could we get some soft fort max? Maybe dah reader be comforting him?? Jadkfjdkq

THANK YOU AND OMG IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER

Rated G, sweet softness: Enjoy!!!

Max was late for movie night. When Swerve started up the Earth romance and your partner was still missing, you left your energon goodies with Tailgate and called Max in the hall. The comm rang like it was going to connect but no one picked up.

As you jogged the corridors, you prayed that Max was alright. He’d gone so long without an episode, and you feared that everything he’d been keeping inside was rearing up and smothering him now. At his habsuite, you punched in the security code and shouldered you way inside. The lights were on and Fort Max was huddled in the shadowed corner behind the door. Hiding, optics wide and frenzied, blaster propped on his knee, servos denting the sturdy metal grip. You closed the door slowly and knelt before him.

“Max?” 

He flinched when you extended a servo. You forced a soft smile and he looked away, but didn’t fight as you eased the blaster from his iron grip. All the while, you whispered —he was sensitive to loud noises on the best of days— his name and sweet, senseless things. You coaxed him to stand while you put words to your love for him. Once he was on steady pedes, he made a small grunt and lurched forward, arms lacing around you and holding on for dear life. It broke your spark but you took comfort in his calming invents and steady servos on your spine. 

You reached up and pet his helm, soothing the aftershocks away. “It’s alright, Max,” you whispered, “I promise, you’re safe. You’re safe now.”

He clutched you tighter, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You peppered his finials and crest with delicate kisses.

“Don’t leave me,” Max rasped. He pulled away just enough to bump his forehelm against yours. 

You cupped his face in your servos and brushed his tears away with the flats of your thumbs. “I’m not going anywhere, honey.”

[lovemesomerobobois]

Ik you got a lot of mtmte op just now, but can we have him protecting his s/o or something? Post war would be interesting, maybe some rouge con snuck into their room or something?? Idk. Lovely writing btw!!

Sorry this took so long!! A week passed and I was like, oops I missed the asks! 

Optimus x Gender Neutral bot, rated T for language, minor violence and uhhhhh very very little possible mpreg? yeah, sorry

this kept getting longer and longer xD ENJOY!

Peace is frail in the best of times. After eons of systemic formism and violently manifested unrest and rage, no one expected anything but conflict. No matter how hard anyone tried, hatred and division persisted. 

Optimus battled with the shame of being glad that he and his conjunx avoided the worst of the danger this new Cybertron had to offer. During council meetings, when reports focused on cross faction violence and the murders of innocents, he longed to serve as an officer, to command justice in the law, but what law was there left to uphold? Even before the war, justice was a fever dream.That he ever believed in it seemed foolish now.

Standing in the hall outside his apartment, Optimus thought of this as he stared at the crumbled latch dangling from the door. He listened for some reason to enter. His conjunx was covering a double shift at the nursery downtown, so he took comfort in knowing nobody was home when the break-in took place. There was nothing particularly valuable in the apartment, but Optimus grimaced when glass shattered somewhere within. 

Fuck, he was exhausted. Worn to his wits’ end, he debated turning around and going to visit his partner while they worked. He would call Prowl to come take a look, but the situation didn’t merit much energy. 

He was halfway down the hall when a piercing cry spilled from the apartment. Going rigid, he whipped around, quickly equipping his blaster, and retraced his steps. Without hesitation, Optimus kicked the door and it swung on its creaky hinge and banged against the wall. The living room was trashed, flipped furniture, broken vases, but Optimus wasn’t expecting the glowing crystals or the blue energon flower petals scattered among the debris. He was taken aback only for a second before he spotted blotts of fresh energon on the floor. He followed a trail to the bedroom, all the while muffled cries and words swarmed him. 

He heard pleaded stops, and snarled fuck yous and then a sickening thud, a fist connecting with something solid. Optimus shouldered passed the door and burst in, overcoming the first stranger and knocking him into the wall. A second mech turned on him, knife in hand, and he ducked a swing and swiped the attacker’s legs out from under him. A cursory glance was sent towards the berth, where his conjunx was sprawled, invents coming and going with a rasping sound, but they were alive. 

The first stranger lunged for Optimus and clawed at the back of his neck as if trying to rip out his spinal cord. Optimus reared back and landed heavy on the ground, the mech pinned between his bulk and the floor. The other was struggling to his pedes, so Optimus shot out his kneecaps and rolled off the other, now wheezing, mech. He grabbed the mech’s shoulder pauldron and flipped him over, swiftly cuffing him. As unnecessary as Starscream said it was, Optimus always kept a pair in his subspace. 

He left the first stranger to restrain the second, who was groaning and cursing, clutching his bleeding knee but doing no good. 

Optimus glowered down at him, pressed the muzzle of his blaster against his helm and barked, “What did you do to them?”

The mech snorted. “Your skank would be fine if they’d listened to us.”

“Who are you,” Optimus growled. His trigger finger ached and he could care less about this piece of trash, but if he killed someone, even in defense, it could seriously hamper political delegations with the remaining Decepticon loyalists and the rogues taking refuge in the city. He tried again, “You have two minutes to explain before I blow your brain module all over the floor!”

“Fuck you, Autobot scum. You think you own the planet? You think you have any right to make decisions for the rest of us?” He spat on Optimus’ pedes. “No, you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, and we’re here to remind you that we all die. We all bleed.”

____

Prowl shook his helm when Optimus recounted the conversation. Jazz and a few other officers already dragged the rogues off, and a medic was checking on his conjunx. The two mechs stood in the hall to avoid the mess of the apartment as they spoke. 

“I’ve seen better assassination attempts from blind mechs,” Prowl grumbled. “Regardless, we’re going to have to relocate you two. There are a handful of flats West from here, should work.”

Optimus wrung his servos together, glancing inside. “Thank you.”

For a moment, there was silence. It raked over Optimus’ nerves and left him jittery and unstable. The medic still hadn’t come out. Prowl patted him on the shoulder and headed out, and Optimus continued to fret while he waited for the all-clear. 

Finally, he was allowed inside. His conjunx was propped up against the headboard, their wounds bandaged and their gaze lazy. Optimus thanked the medic and closed the door before hurrying over to the berth. His partner blinked slow as their optics brightened and they gave him a listless smile. 

“Optimus. . . Are you alright?”

Optimus climbed onto the berth and curled into them. “Yes, yes I’m fine,” he muttered. A servo on his chin forced him to look up. 

They smiled again and kissed the top of his helm. “I wanted to surprise you.”

He looked at them, confused, until they whispered two words that made him feel like he was dreaming, like all this was surreal. 

“I’m carrying, sweetspark,” they said. “The sparkling is safe, and so am I. I love you, Optimus. I could never do anything but love you, my darling.”

Optimus buried his face in their side and wept. Tears of joy, exhaustion, fear, everything poured out of him but he felt no shame in his tears. Here, in his conjunx’s arms, he was safe and appreciated and happy. He trembled with his sobs while they pet his helm and soothed his fears and his anxiety. They hushed him and chased away the dark clouds that fogged his mind. 

Optimus would die for his conjunx, and they would do the same in an instant. Perhaps that made their relationship volatile, but peace was never an option.

[lovemesomerobobois]

So from what I’ve seen of mtmte post war OP, he seems to have let his power go to his head? (I haven’t read all the comics) so what about maybe his s/o kinda telling him off with how he treats people and uses his power?? If, this is true of course XD

Not gonna lie, I’m not caught up with the comics either, so Idk but I can totally write bratty Optimus being put in his place. Hope you don’t mind the suggestive ending ;) 

t rating, gender neutral partner, all consensual suggestiveiness

Well this got out of hand. . . 

“Jazz, have you received the status reports from Cybertron yet?” 

Optimus sat on the very edge of his captain’s chair, servos clenched in his lap. He surveyed the deck and his meager crew, and through the windshield he scanned the green Earth terrain. It’d only been a week since he, Prowl, Arcee, Jazz, and Optimus’ conjunx embarked on their search for Alpha Trion, but it felt like decades. 

Jazz was hunched over the main server, tsking and shaking his helm. “Nah, nothin’.”

Sifting through a stack of datapads, Prowl glanced up. “Last we heard was from Rattrap.” He snorted, stretched and joined Jazz at the server. 

“Rattrap isn’t our liaison,” Optimus snapped. “What about Chromia?”

“It’s only been a couple of days, sir,” Jazz muttered. He and Prowl were on thin ice and they knew it. With such a small crew, it was impossible to avoid Optimus’ temper and, though they’ve all dealt with worse, it was unnerving to be belittled by the unstoppable force that was once Orion Pax. “Chromia will only report if she thinks Starscream’s planning somethin’. Nothin’ is good.”

Optimus’ fists clenched on the arms of his chair. “Is that so? Silence from a planet teeming with billions of Cybertronians is a positive sign? When has that ever been the case! Have you learned nothing from centuries of war?”

Jazz glanced from a rigid Prowl back to their fuming commander. “We might have landed in a dead zone. Why don’t I go out and get Arcee and--”

“No!” The chair creaked as Optimus pushed out of it in a flash. “You don’t move from that fucking chair until you find the messages from Cybertron.”

Prowl leaned back, feigning nonchalance. “He’s checked and rechecked already, Prime.”

Optimus opened his mouth to chew both his lieutenants' helms off, but a cold servo clamped over his mouth from behind. He whipped around, ready to strike, but Arcee protected his attacker. Arcee deflected the hit and the owner of the servo (which was once again clamped over his mouth) shoved him into the captain’s chair. He sat, mouth a tight line, glaring up at his smaller partner. Arcee hovered behind them, but tunnel vision left them the sole Bot in his optics. 

Voice dripping spite and rage, Optimus barked, “Out! All of you, out!”

Everyone except his conjunx slipped out. Even when the two were alone, Optimus was fuming. The nerve some bots had.

“You—”

They grabbed his face and yanked him forward, effectively shutting him up. They squeezed his cheeks, forcing Optimus’ lips to pucker. “Did I give you permission to address me?” they rumbled. 

Optimus tried to hide the sharp intake he sucked in. 

“Good,” they hummed, still holding his face hard enough to make his jaw ache. “Next time, I’ll let the others stay. I’m sure they’d enjoy watching.”

Optimus’ face burned with humiliation as the rage inside him began to deflate. 

“Maybe I’ll degrade you the way you step all over them, hmm? Or I could yell at you, scream and blame you for something you have no control over.” They released his face with a shove. “Or I’ll make you kneel and beg for forgiveness.” Their optics were always so soft, understanding, but now they were merciless. 

Optimus extended a servo, a silent plea for forgiveness, and they slapped his servo away. 

“On the ground, now!” They barked the order then sighed, voice losing its false cruelty. “You have to get this under control, Optimus.” 

He looked up to them from where he was on all fours on the floor, his legs shaking. He wasn’t sure if it was desperation or defeat that made him tremble.

“We’ll fix this. Even if this is what it takes.” They placed a servo atop his helm and pet a finial. “You remember the safeword?”

He had to reboot his vocalizer twice before he could croak, “Cat.”

“That’s right, my little mouse.” They knelt before him, a small smile on their gorgeous faceplates. “I love you, Optimus.”

[lovemesomerobobois]

Holy cowwww I need more of dat mtmte Oppyyyyyy 🤖🤖🤖

Honestly same tho. I gotta get the energy to write more with him xD 😅

[lovemesomerobobois]

Omg that Optimus one was amazing OMGGGGGGGGGGGG

Ahhhhhhh thank you!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

[lovemesomerobobois]

Megatron’s Origins

He was born into chaos, blind and screaming, covered in a stranger’s energon. The mech who birthed him died alone; no sire, no family, abandoned in the underground railways of a flourishing Cybertron. Megatronus’ master would eventually find the tape from that day in hopes of inspiring rage. It was foolish of the old noble to assume such rage didn’t already consume the young mech. Branded since birth, forced to work in filthy, harrowing conditions for the smallest penny, whipped and beaten, alone. . . it seemed as if his life only served to make him more dangerous: more valuable.