#nitro zeus

[revelboo]

All Transformers crybaby designs so far…

[revelverse]

Can Nitro wifey get it finally? He’s been so patient 😈

🤣 sure 🔞 MDNI mass displaced mech 🌶️

Needy

Nitro Zeus x Reader

• Turning, you startle as a big hand smacks the wall near your head and even mass displaced he’s massive as he leans down and rumbles, that single optic focused on you. And you’re guessing he likes the apron. Though it could also be the fact that there’s nothing on underneath. Heart hammering, you’d thought this might be the easiest way of letting him know you’d decided. By playing wifey and pretending to clean the chaos of his habsuite while wearing that stupid apron he’d found and brought you as a joke. “This for me?” He asks as he vents, his engine noise almost animalistic sounding to leave you breathless with anticipation. Reminding you that he’s not safe even if he’s relatively tame with you.

• “If it is?” You counter and his spike stirs because you scent of need and heat. Been patient. Kept his hands mostly to himself. And okay, maybe he’s stolen your coverings after you’d taken them off to stroke his spike until he’d overloaded a few times, but he’s been good. Deserves a reward. ‘Then I get to unwrap my present, right?’ Reaching to pluck at the material when he wants to pin you and claim you. He goes still when you smooth your palms up his chassis and loop your arms around his neck, his mandibles flexing. “Well, you’ve been so good,” you tease.

• And you suck in a breath when he palms your waist and lifts you, your back hitting the wall as his spike releases to pressurize, brushing against your belly through the thin material. “I’ve been a fucking amazing husband,” he growls as you inhale shakily. Always forgetting he can move like that when he wants to. Hands clinging to him as his mandibles brush your neck, you shiver in his arms, feeling the hard length of him rocking against you as your toes curl. His big head nudges yours and you realize you’d shut your eyes. “You sure?” That low, growling question decides for you.

• “I’m your wife,” you whisper and his hungry tension eases. Hips rocking as he lazily moves against you, teasing you both, you’re tugging at the bottom of the apron with one hand to get it out from between your body and his and he nearly overloads at just the feel of sliding the underside of his spike against you. ‘Damn straight, you are,’ he growls, sharp denta clenching. And you wiggle when he tries to line up with you, the head of his spike sliding against you. ‘Been playing without me?’ He rumbles and you look embarrassed but don’t deny it. Grunting when he sinks into your slick heat, you’re tighter than he’d imagined. Feel so good he’s venting raggedly as his fans kick on, fighting the urge to frag you hard and fast.

• Gasping his name as he stretches you, his hips roll and you can feel every ridge and bump on his spike. Head falling back against the wall as he thrusts, you’re not sure what you’d been so scared of. He’s never hurt you even though he’s had plenty of opportunities. He’s taken care of you instead. Waited rather than take what he’d wanted. Let you play along even when you were still thinking about escaping. “You my wife,” he snarls, the words not quite a question, but a demand, his hips pumping and you hang onto him, that single optic hungrily watching as you whisper yes, legs wrapping around his waist.

[baja-blast3r]

Aaaand we’re back 🤍 Part 3 of my AU without context (imagine the last one is Starscream plz, drawing is not available at this time)

• Part 1 & 2 •

First one was a redraw of a meme made by my oomf @paranoidagents

[bezilvalentine]

Jingle jingle pay attention

[flightless-magpie]

Im sorry but there is NOT enough bayverse decepticon stuff out there. Yeah, Optimus is great, but I wanna see some Nitro Zeus, perhaps some soundwave? A little Shockwave sprinkled in. Is that too much to ask? Just let me simp for these idiots please!!

Like yeah, bayverse is no where near being the best transformers media out there, but it was the first one I ever saw, so it has a special place in my heart.

These big ugly idiots need some more simps, and by that I mean someone needs to write some simp worthy fanfic so I don't have to do it myself.

[omgeveryusernameistakenicanteven]

Love Connection-Nitro Zeus

This is a matchmaking AU for all Transformers media! I'm not too well versed in lore, so don't expect a masterpiece. Inspired by @revelboo's Soft AU (super good, if you like transformers check it out!) but more focused on the matchmaking/marriage aspect. If you want to feel free to request characters :) Reader IS GN, one use of 'wife' but how people call men/NB babygirl or wifey.

Being married off to an alien robot wasn’t exactly in your 10-year plan. It certainly wasn’t your idea. That honor belongs to your father, who heard about the possibility of accessing an untapped retail market and practically shoved you at the recruiter. Honestly, you’re not too upset. How long have you drifted directionless in life? At the very least, you can go shopping on your new husband’s money rather than your father’s. As long as he likes you…

When Nitro Zeus first heard of a new matchmaking program the humans set up, he laughed. Over the next several weeks though he found himself surrounded by mechs and their new squishy conjunxes . Worst thing was they seemed happy, incredibly happy. As soon as they got matched up they’d walk around with their plating puffed up and gleaming, chuckling with the sweet ethereal little being on their shoulder or cupped in their servos.

Aw, frag, why can’t he have that? That’s how he found himself here; in a large, concrete building staffed with hundreds of the little organics. One stares at him from the elevated hallway across the building. A few other mechs are in the building with more wandering the complex outside. He sidles up to queue behind a vehicon, who shuffles uncomfortably at his presence. When it’s his turn he stares at a little organic sat at a desk. They’re positioned on a catwalk about optic-level. They shuffles some papers around, pick up a pen, and address him in a bored tone. "Name?"

The whole process takes half an hour, questions about his creation, upbringing, alliances, skills, alt-mode, income and social standing. She waves him to the left where they take his height and weight then assign him a class. Afterwards they direct him to a photo station, and he strikes a pose, flexing as the camera flashes once and he's waved on. Lastly, they tack weld a plate containing his designation number and class letter to his shoulder plating and assure him it will be removed once his match is assigned and recognizes him. Apparently, there had been some situations where humans confused similar colored mechs.

So this is the place, huh? You crane your head back all the way as you enter the building. There's a spacious lobby, greeting desk, and four elevators that people flow in and out of constantly. Tapping at the counter, you greet the receptionist then chime, "I'm here for the matchmaking program. My father should have called." She brings up your account information and directs you to the correct floor, then turns back to chatting on the phone.

A light ding announces your stop, and your jaw drops when you step out of the elevator. You're several stories up and to your left the long hallway is lined with floor to ceiling windows that look out into a massive room. That's them, aliens puttering about below. From your position you're looking down on most of them. Except for one, dark blue in color. You watch him stride past, so in awe it takes you a second to realize there's a person sitting on his shoulder. They spot you and wave wildly, cheering when you wave back and drawing attention from their spouse. He turns to glance at you but doesn't slow his stride. Soon enough he's ducked through the doors past a shorter, steel gray one with a single glowing red eye.

Jolted out of your amazed staring when someone rushes by you with a stack of papers. They're cursing all the way down the hallway and into the elevator, jamming the button repeatedly as if that would close the doors faster. You hurry down the hallway, searching for the office you were supposed to meet in.

Finally, you knock at the door and enter with a sheepish smile. "Sorry I'm late. I found the windows."

The man behind the desk nods reassuringly and answers, "You're not late at all, actually. We tell all applicants a time fifteen minutes ahead of schedule for that exact reason. Please, sit, and we'll get started."

You do as he asks, jittering with excitement now that you're actually here. The man starts with a list of questions, likes, dislikes, fears, preferences on the 'alienness' of your new partner and age. They also take a general assessment of your appearance and health, for insurance reasons, he says. With that done you take a picture and get a little lanyard with your picture, an ID number and current match status.

When all the bureaucracy is out of the way the man pulls out a tablet and passes it to you. "The profiles I bring up will appear on that. Please, let me know if you see anything you like. Don't be shy." He pushes his glasses up his nose and continues, "If you have any starting preferences that would be helpful."

"Well, who has the most money?" At this he gives you a look over his glasses, and raises a brow before scrolling for a bit and pulling up too profiles.

"This is Mirage. Cybertron elite, Class A2, suitable for a life integrated into human society, incredibly wealthy." You nod and swipe through his profile. He's handsome, you notice, a charming smirk and laidback demeanor. Also, apparently fourteen feet tall, woah. Ideal for your father's plans. Just as you open your mouth to speak his picture blinks gray then disappears. "Ah, better luck next time. Got to be quick with these speedsters. Hottest thing since sliced bread."

"Next up is," he draws out the S sound while searching then mutters, "aha, here. Blurr. Famous racer on Cybertron, best one around, apparently. That's earned him more than a few credits. He's a bit jumpy though, doesn't slow down much. Class A3. Bit high risk, but capable of integrating with little effort." His profile is similar to Mirage's, but with more information on the 'employment' section. He's also a bit taller at nineteen feet. How are you supposed to...consummate, then? It might have been achievable with Mirage but certainly no taller.

"That face is not inspiring confidence," the man states, shuffling in his seat. "How about this, what would you normally look for in a human partner?"

Oh, this just got twenty times more embarrassing. You should say something posh, someone with a boat, impeccably gelled blond hair, a country club membership, manners and etiquette. Instead you stutter out, "Uh...I don't know. Big, I guess, and strong. A little rough and tumble, but not mean. Just someone that's confident and can handle himself. Someone that can dance." That last bit is added on as an afterthought, videos of dancers playing in your mind. You'd always admired them, that cool confidence, the ease of movement.

He nods, clicking his tongue a few times, and, apparently finding nothing, refreshes the page. "Ooh, a fresh one. Here we are..." He stalls on the R, and taps a few keys to hold the profile. A new picture appears on your screen. Your eyes widen. It's the gray one you saw earlier. "Nitro Zeus. Second Wing Commander. Class D5. You can't bring this one home to daddy, let's say." Immediately, you're transfixed. This one is far larger than the other two, you'd seen if for yourself. That's cause for concern, or would be, if you could bring yourself to care. He's also got a less human face, instead a vertical sort of mouth, a single red eye, and two sweeping horns. More noticeably he's flexing Mr. Olympia style. You giggle, and swipe down to read more of his profile. Most of it is bare bone facts, and you're almost surprised when you find yourself wanting to know more.

"How do I-" The man leans over the desk, head resting on the backs of his intertwined fingers. "Find out more? I'll send a message over to the communications department. They'll contact Zeus here, bring him in for a meeting, and, if he likes what he sees, you should get word within the day.” Nitro Zeus's picture on the screen draws your eyes again. It seems nonsensical, but he's infinitely better looking than either of the robot supermodels. At least, to you he is.

A message buzzes in his comms, and he flicks it up onto his interface. "Would you look at that?" One of the little organics is already trying to snatch him up. He knew they would, or that's what he tells himself. Organics could look past his more irregular features where cybertronians could not, surely. And he was right. Satisfied, he strides back to the main building, ready to meet his wife and see what this organic craze is really about.

[blueey-jayzilla]

Another self-indulgent nitrozues for the pile

[glasseldritch]

I will inevitably make themn into stickers and charms b