How do you think TFA Megatron would act during a really good blowjob? He seems like the type who needs to keep the upper hand in every situation, so even when you’re going down on him I feel like he’d be fighting to keep every moan locked behind his teeth
God I need you to know that I'm obsessed with this ask
Megatron is an absolute bastard, so if he's fighting for his life, he needs to ruin you too. Meaning - he's going to finger you during the entire ordeal until you clench down on his fingers and cum HARD
thank u all once again for waiting on this chapter! hopefully they'll be a bit more frequent over the next month now that life has chilled out a bit. happy reading, my loves! ꨄ︎
<- previous
Dust particles flurry and float all around you as you scurry across the training yard quicker than you did the last time you were here. Your feet shift against the dirt as you swing your wooden sword in hopes of landing a blow on your personal knight and, more recently, your training instructor.
Movement is made far easier thanks to the new leathers that have been fabricated for you. It's a rare sight to see you in anything but a dress specifically designed for court, but today you are fashioned in black leather hose that cover your legs entirely, and a black leather tunic with long sleeves and a high neck. Needless to say, you are far better dressed for such an activity.
Your greatest triumph as of right now is that you've actually managed to make Optimus draw his sword, rather than simply sidestepping your attacks. He parries with you, blocking all your advances.
"You are improving, Princess," Optimus announces as he flicks your sword with his. You grunt in frustration, taking another swing from a lower angle in hopes of catching him off guard.
Such a hope would be fruitless in the face of a warrior's skill, and you are soon humbled by Optimus' effortless ease in preventing you from landing an attack on him.
He tuts at you, shaking his helm at such a poor attempt to pull the wool over his eyes.
His next strike lands on your upper arm, an area you were poorly defending, and Optimus would be a fool to pass up such an opportunity. You groan at the impact, jumping away from his line of attack before losing your footing, ultimately tumbling to the ground.
Huffing, you quickly stabilise yourself and ground yourself on your feet once again. You don't bother to dust off your clothing, you've already taken enough tumbles to be coated in a layer of brown dust. Spinning on your toes, you shoot your opponent a displeased look, rubbing your arm to soothe the blooming pain forming there.
"That will teach you to better defend yourself," your knight says. "You have some distance to go if you wish to best me in combat, Princess."
A small smile forms under his faceguard at your tenacity, the stark look on your face that screams determination. Once you have your skills in order, he has no doubt that you will be a formidable opponent. Though it's unlikely you would ever reach his skill level, considering he's had millions of years to hone his abilities.
"You must be thirsty, Princess. We've been sparring for the better part of an hour. A break might be in order, wouldn't you agree?" He offers, extending his servo to take your training sword. You sigh lightly before handing it over to him, looking up into his shielded optics.
"I wouldn't turn down a cold glass of tonic," you agree.
Thessa, your lady's maid, has been standing watch on the outskirts of the training yard. It's been a delight watching you engage another in a way she hasn't seen before, but less enjoyable to watch you fail each time. She won't have the mind to mention that upon your next conversation.
"I will return shortly with some beverages," Thessa announces, her voice stretching through the field of the training yard.
You turn your head to look at her, nodding once with a warm smile as she takes her leave. You can hear the faint clicking of her shoes against the stone flooring, slowly fading out the further she gets.
"Come, Ser," you usher him as you start to walk to the edge of the training yard. You make your way to the elevated pavement that spans around the perimeter, taking a low seat to rest your aching feet. Optimus follows after placing the training swords on the wooden rack, taking a seat next to you.
The dust scattered around the yard settles, returning the training area to a desolate desert that hardly sees any use as of late. Training and battles have been unnecessary in this time of peace, which is a thing to be grateful for.
Looking down at your boots, you're greeted with blotches of brown and grey dust dirtying the previously pristine black leather. More of the dirt splays up your legs, and you dread to think what the rest of you looks like considering you spent more time on the floor rather than crossing it.
"Evidence of a productive session," Optimus says, looking at the state of your leathers.
"I would agree," you answer, taking your gaze to your reddened hands, "My aching hands speak to the productiveness, too."
"That wanes the more frequently you subject yourself to it," he tells you.
"Do your hands ache as mine do?" You ask, finding it hard to believe that he experiences muscle pain considering he doesn't have any muscles to speak of.
He brings his servos before him, displaying them to you and turning them over to show them off. "Not in the same way, I imagine. They can stiffen and seize, and often did in my early training days."
You trace the lines of his servos, the seams that connect each panel. It all works in tandem with itself perfectly, an intricacy that is not so easily fathomed. The joints that allow flexibility, the surface scratches from wear and tear, the glinting metal that seems suffocated by a layer of dust from the yard. It is a marvel wearing the mask of the incomprehensible, witnessing a greatness that has no name in any language you speak.
"You are a wonder of creation," you comment without looking away from his servos. "If all Worldlings were made in the image of The Fated Ones, I must ponder whose image you were created in."
"Flattery from a Princess is high praise indeed," Optimus says matter-of-factly, not divulging any information of his nature.
It occurs to you what you just uttered, and how that may be construed. In truth, you were not intending to lather him with flattery, but instead making an observation aloud. The revelation isn't enough to make you blush, but it does certainly pull you out of the cloud of admiration you found yourself in.
"Would you allow me to ask a potentially uncomfortable question?" Optimus approaches, hoping you'll gratify him.
You look at him with curiosity, thinking it to be out of his character to be so forthcoming. Anything to turn the topic of conversation away from your minor blunder is a blessing, so you'll take it where you can.
"Please. There are no uncomfortable questions," you answer, nodding your approval.
"What of your previous knight? Ronnin? I must admit, I have filled her role, but know very little of what happened to her," Optimus dares to ask.
You take a bracing breath, steadying the pain that arises every time you hear her name. Your lips pull into a small frown as you look forward, unable to face him when you talk about it.
"They say she was slain by a beast outside the castle walls," you inform, "But the beast which was responsible has never been caught. She had little time to say her goodbyes, let alone detail the attack. We were fortunate that Master Ephri managed to bring her to the medical unit before she succumbed to her injuries."
"Has an inquest into her death been undertaken?"
"With the dwindling evidence we have, it would be a tall ask. One could conclude that the event was one of nature. There are beasts in the Alder Woods that are known for hunting indiscriminately, and based on the trails left behind, that is where Ronnin was attacked," you explain, relaying what scarce information you have. You take another breath before peering over at him again. "So, a word of warning: avoid the Alder Woods where possible."
You can't see it, but a flicker of empathy kindles in Optimus' optics. He's known loss. It's a burden he's carried more times than he can count.
"I will heed your warning, Princess."
Silence replaces the conversation you were having, deciding that you no longer wish to speak of Ronnin. Your mourning period is over now, but the grief is yet to leave you. You can't help but wonder what it would be like if Ronnin was the one to train you in sword skills rather than Optimus. If you would take to her teaching style more easily, if she would be less punishing.
The familiar clicking of heels reenters the yard, Thessa quickly making her way in with a platter and two goblets atop it. You lean back to look past Optimus' large frame, smiling once again towards your companion. She may have been employed as your lady's maid, but you've harboured a caring friendship with her in that time.
"Your Highness," she greets, kneeling down behind you and Optimus.
"Lord Yonik advised me that I should prepare you a drink as well, Ser Optimus," Thessa says towards your knight. He peers into the goblet, seeing the bright pink colour of energon.
"You have my thanks, Lady Thessa," he expresses, reaching to grab his goblet.
"I am no Lady, Ser. You may refer to me as Miss," she corrects him politely.
"Be patient with him, Thessa," you say as you grab your drink. "He's still learning."
Your lady's maid stands, bowing her head to you before leaving once again, leaving you alone with Optimus in the training yard. Now would be a good opportunity to talk to him without any prying ears, though you suspect Yonik will be privy to any conversation you have. It's his job, you suppose.
"You know very little of my former knight, but it's dawned on me that I know very little of you," you voice.
Optimus uses his free servo to remove his faceguard, exposing the lower half of his face. He takes a sip of his drink before gazing over at you to meet your look.
"What would you like to know?"
"House Prime, was it? I must admit, I've never heard of it," you engage the conversation, passing it over to him to continue.
"It's not a House, Princess. It's a title," he tells you.
"Now you have my interest," you comment.
He contemplates how much he should tell you. What would be an error to bring to light, but what would be enough to cease your questions.
"On my home planet, Cybertron, being granted the title of Prime proves that you are worthy in the optics of our Maker. You are bestowed with a tool called the Matrix of Leadership, and you are entrusted with Cybertron's progression in the image of greater good."
"So you're a leader?"
That's what you're hearing, at least. You wonder if he has this Matrix of Leadership on him, or if the tool has been gifted to another.
"I was," Optimus states with a fraction of forlorn longing in his voice. "I relinquished my role."
"For what reason?" You pry.
He exvents, bringing his faceguard back to his face and clicking it in place. He places his drink by his side, and you get the message that he doesn't wish to speak of it. To aid the sudden awkwardness, you change the topic.
"What is that in your cup? I've never seen a beverage of that colour," you ask whilst nodding to it.
Your knight clears his vocaliser with a few clicks before answering you. "It's called energon. It's what sustains me, and others of my kind."
"Energon," you repeat, making sure you take important note of it. "I don't believe we have that in Velantra."
"Fret not, Princess. I have brought enough," he advises.
"Oh?" You voice, looking down at the fizzling drink. You're not sure where the rest of his reserves are stored, but you have a hard time believing that he's brought enough to see him through his tenure with you.
"Grant me one last question, Ser. What is a former leader of Cybertron doing here? Serving in the Velantrian Royal Court as the Princess' personal knight?"
You're not sure where Cybertron is, but it's certainly not a place you've heard of. That, paired with his metallic nature, you have to assume that he's probably not from this solar system. Intergalactic study is still young in this current society, but it seems wherever he is from is far more advanced in that field.
"I left of my own volition," he clarifies, "I believed that there was no further purpose for me to serve on Cybertron. I left the planet in a better state than I found it, and decided to hand the mantle to the next generation."
"And you found yourself on the tournament for my sword and shield?"
"Eventually," he says, glancing at you briefly. "I was wandering the galaxy for a while, and on my travels, I discovered this position. I felt drawn to it, so I decided I would try my servo at it."
"Well, Ser Optimus, I am deeply grateful for your nobility and your decision to be here," you voice lightly with a kind smile.
"And I am grateful to be in your service," he replies stoicly. "If you would be so kind, Princess, I am need in of recharge. Would you allow me to excuse myself to my quarters?"
Ah, you were wondering if he ever needed something akin to sleep or rest. He's been by your side or standing guard outside your chambers since being knighted, you were beginning to worry for his health. You take 'recharge' to mean exactly what it sounds like: his form of rest.
"Of course. You need not seek my permission to rest," you reply.
"I will keep that in mind for future. I will request that you refrain from straying too far from the castle walls if it can be helped, as I will be unavailable to accompany you," he asks calmly, grabbing his goblet before standing. He offers you his free servo, which you take softly to make it to your feet.
You're still not quite used to the protectiveness that he smothers you with, adamant on being with you as often as humanly possible, but it's not necessarily unwelcome. You do still have access to your peace, as he does not dare to enter your chambers, so you're making yourself acquainted with the highly frequent company outside of that.
. ݁ ⟡ ݁ .
The conversation you had with Optimus was both pleasant and insightful. You don't take it for granted that you're learning more about the one that is sworn to protect you, sating some of the curiosities that you've had since first laying eyes on him. His character is undeniably noble, but also stoic, which you've found marginally difficult to navigate.
Now properly dressed in your court attire, you walk through the lengthy corridors to your destination. Your leathers have been delivered to the laundrettes, ready to be worn again upon your next training session with Optimus.
Knights, Court Officials, and Lords alike all bow their heads to you as you pass them, but none of them stops you to engage in conversation. It's clear you are journeying to somewhere with intent.
When you halt outside of Lord Yonik's doors, you immediately press both hands against the towering oak to push them open.
As expected, the Chief Advisor is sitting at his desk in the centre of the room. He lifts his head from the text he was studying, immediately standing upon sight of your arrival.
"My Lord," you greet, walking into the grand room. There are a plethora of books and scrolls stored from floor to ceiling on each wall, making this a vault of knowledge fit for the King's Chief Advisor.
"Princess, how may I be of assistance?" Yonik asks with a shallow bow.
"I would like you to show me where Ser Optimus' energon reserves are," you request.
"Why would you worry yourself with such a thing?" The man queries.
"My motive is not of your concern, Lord Yonik. But if you must know, I would like to ensure that I am aware of where his vital sustenance is in case of any kind of emergency," you inform bluntly. Out of every Lord and Lady at court, Yonik undoubtedly challenges you the most. You've seen him do the same to the King and Queen, so you don't take it as any kind of personal slight, but it can still be mildly infuriating.
"Your logic is sound," he comments.
The urge to roll your eyes is only just quelled, resisting doing so in the face of the one you're asking help of in this moment. One day, you hope you may ask for something that he doesn't either combat or have a running commentary for.
"Follow me, my Princess." He gestures to the right-hand wall, taking the lead with you only a few steps behind. He takes hold of a lever that is jutting out between the shelves of the books, pulling it down to unearth a deep rumbling sound that resonates through the wall.
Shortly after, a section of the bookcase emerges before sliding across to reveal a hidden closet-sized room. These are common in the castle, and you're more than aware that Yonik knows of each and every one.
In the middle of the small compartment room, which is dimly lit by a weak candle, sits a single barrel. You furrow your brows, turning to look at the Chief Advisor.
"Is this it?" You ask.
"This is all he brought with him," Yonik answers.
Surely this is not a sufficient amount as he previously advised. You watched him drink a goblet of it in one sitting.
"Do we have means of obtaining more?" You continue.
"It is a foreign substance, of which no elements are harvested naturally on this planet," he advises you. He knows more of Optimus' nature than you do, which you expect. If anyone would know where to source more, he certainly would.
"I will need to address this with him," you mumble more to yourself than to Yonik. "Allow me to take a sample to Master Ephri, he may know of some way to formulate more."
Surprisingly, he doesn't argue with you. Instead, he walks back towards his desk to retrieve a vial from the drawer. You wait for him by the barrel, taking the vial once he hands it to you.
You crouch in front of the barrel, popping off the cork stopper of the vial before filling it halfway from the faucet. You seal the vial again, standing before offering your thanks to Yonik and taking your leave.
Though Master Ephri is undoubtedly talented, he is not specialised in botany or anything of the sort. You have little faith that he could curate something that matches energon, but you believe you know of someone who might.
You slip the vial of energon up your sleeve before returning to your quarters to ready yourself for your outing.
. ݁ ⟡ ݁ .
Mounting your white mare, you slip your feet into the stirrups before stroking her neck to greet her.
"It feels like it's been an age since we've been on a ride together, Atlas."
She snorts, shaking her head to fan her beautiful pearly mane. She is a spoiled beast, never far from a brick of salt or any other treat of her fancy. Groomed daily, and her stable is lined with the finest hay that can be harvested. She was a gift to you from your father on your 5th birthday, and you've grown alongside her ever since.
You take hold of the reins before prompting her to walk on. She elegantly moves out of the stables, much to the dismay of every fussing stablehand in your vicinity.
"My Princess! Please at least tell us when you intend to return!" A stableboy shouts to you. Many of them tried to politely prevent you from leaving, or at the very least have an understanding of where you're headed to.
"I will back before the morrow!" You call behind you before you enter Atlas into a trot, and then a canter.
You're left to assume that at least one of the stablehands has scurried to someone in the castle to inform them of your departure, but they would be far too late to stop you. You can hear an orchestra of cries and calls from the workers, likely protesting the length of your departure, insisting it wouldn't be suitable for you to be gone throughout the night.
It's of no concern to you now. If someone intends to retrieve you, they are welcome to try. But no other horse in that stable can outpace Atlas, not even Optimus' steely mount.
You canter away from the castle grounds, taking a thin riding trail that leads to a landscape of rolling hills and forests. Atlas' hooves crash against the ground as your hooded cape carries in the wind behind you. You only wear it to conceal your identity, not fancying stumbling across any townsfolk who may want to draw you into conversation. Usually, you wouldn't mind, but you have a matter to deal with today that requires prompt attention.
Once you're sure you're far enough away from the castle, you pull Atlas into a walk. You glance over your shoulder, watching the facade of your home slowly shrink in the distance. It is a mighty place to call home, and you rarely get to see it from this angle. It sits high up from the sea level, built atop jagged volcanic rock for defence purposes. It dominates the skyline of Velantra, visible from every corner in the surrounding towns and villages.
It's beautiful to see the harmony of the town you reside over, golden lamps nothing more than pinpricks of light at this distance, which seem as though the stars have fallen from the sky to bless the villagers. The ambient luminosity flickers as the day starts to retire, the sun slowly retreating below the horizon.
The journey will take a few hours, meaning you'll reach your destination well after nightfall. Luckily, even at night nothing in Velantra is completely pitch black. The moon and stars that hang in the sky are so bright that they keep the landscapes illuminated somewhat, not to mention the countless torches and lanterns that are placed around the riding trails.
Atlas takes you along the flat, grassy terrain that leads into the valleys of the rolling hills. A handful of huts are dotted along the surface of the hills, belonging to a small group of villagers.
As you disappear into the hilly territories, you pass by various locals who are on foot. They nod their greetings, which you return in kind. Atlas knows these routes well, her ease blending into yours to keep you calm on your solo travels.
The rolling hills eventually become taller, jagged mountains after what seems like a couple of hours. A blanket of snow rests over the highest peaks, and the symmetry of them strikes you with awe. This is artistry blessed to the land by higher powers.
You've entered a territory where civilisation is few and far between, these climates are not ideal for living creatures. The drop in temperature is almost immediate, sending chills down your spine.
Beyond the last bend of the mountain's path, you're met with the sight you were hoping for. A hidden, tucked-away cover that clings to the cliff's edge. A nest of lanterns decorate the face of it, only just visible through the thick fog that swallows the atmosphere.
Wooden bridges that seem older than Velantra itself stretch from ledge to ledge, crooked railings that have deteriorated over the years are wrapped with vines, and some loose ropes hang from them. There are small coves that each bridge leads to, but based on the state of the bridges, you'd hazard a guess that no one lives in them.
Atop the cliff, you can see small, quaint towers with thatched roofs that are warmly lit internally with orange firelight. Your eyes follow the tall but narrow waterfall that cascades off the edge of the cliff and plunges directly into a turquoise pool that encompasses the bottom of the cliff.
As you follow the flow of water, your eyes land on an archway that leads to an internal cave at the very base of the cliff. If your intel is right, the person you're seeking resides inside of that cave.
Dismounting Atlas, you give her a reassuring pet before leaving her to graze on the thin strip of green grass curling around the foot of the mountain.
"Stay here for me, girl. I'll be back in a moment," you hush to her. She needs the rest after such a long ride, and she's trained well enough that she won't go anywhere without you.
You cross the shallow ravine via the conveniently placed stepping stones, approaching the slightly ominous-looking cave which is said to be home to one of the most ancient beings in all of Velantra. Your steps rustle the pebbles and stones lining the pool, and despite your best efforts, you have no visibility inside the cave from the outside.
Taking the hood of your cape, you remove it from your head to make your appearance visible to anyone who might be inside looking out.
"I come seeking an audience with Sol Madeis," you call, your voice echoing through the hollow space. You're hesitant to step inside, especially considering you have no source of light to guide you, and this is unknown territory.
Upon the lack of response, you try to make your voice heard again.
"I know the hour is late, but if you would be gracious enough to spare me a moment of your time, I would be eternally grateful."
Your voice once again parrots through the rocky cave, presumably either falling on deaf ears or on no ears at all. You look over your shoulder to Atlas, seeing her contentedly grazing as you left her. This trip will have been for nothing if you don't at least speak to the one you were hoping to find. You sigh as you look forward once again, shifting your foot against the pebbles to slowly approach.
As if your advance broke into some kind of threshold, the cave billows with light like dragonfire. Your hair is swept away from your face as each torch lining the cave walls illuminates one after the other, as if signalling your path forward.
The torches crackle, taunting you to come closer and make an entrance. You lace your fingers together, fiddling with your hands as your nerves start to nip at your heels. You weren't sure what kind of reception you were expecting, but this certainly wasn't it.
Your next step is hesitant, just as is the one after. Slowly but surely, you enter the cave, following the trail of torches. This seems like the kind of place that might prey on your fear, but despite your best efforts, you can't seem to unclench your jaw.
It feels as though your heart is in your throat, almost deafening you. There are legends and ballads about Sol Maldeis, and a part of you on the journey began to worry that she was nothing more than a myth. Right now, in this fearful moment, you're praying she's a myth, and this is just a strange coincidence.
A low, humming light comes into view at the end of the cave, one that is oddly humanoid in shape. You take a brave breath as you come closer, meeting face to face with the one you seek.
She is elven in her structure. Tall, willowy, long pointed ears. The only thing that makes her different is that she seems to be entirely fabricated of yellow-white light. Her entire appearance is nothing short of dazzling. She has long, beautiful hair that reaches down past her waist, and her features are defined enough that you can make out her face. She wears a long robe, which is also woven with light. It's as though you're looking at the sun in elven form.
"Come, my child," her soft, airy voice speaks, offering you her hand.
You gaze upon it, cautious to take it. Swallowing your fears, you slip your hand into hers so that she may lead you into a separate area of the cave, one that she's decorated as her dwelling. The way she moves is unlike anything you've seen before, floating through the air like an apparition.
"Y—You are… Sol Madeis?"
"And you are the Princess of Velantra, heir to the throne," she responds.
"I didn't expect you to know me," you admit shyly.
"I know everyone born to this land," she says.
As she stops in the middle of the illuminated room, she uses her free hand to signal a sign that is unknown to you. To the side of you, from thin air, comes a throw of cushions.
Magic is not uncommon in Velantra, but you've never seen it used for that purpose. And with such ease, too.
"Sit, and tell me of your troubles."
You take her up on her offer, sitting down on the arranged pillows as she walks to a counter decorated with trinkets and crockery. You glance around the rest of the room, amazed by the maximalism that is organised so perfectly. There are hanging charms, gems, crystals, flowers, and tapestries. Nearly every inch of the cave is detailed with something.
"I'm sorry to come to you with a request," you start. She has her back to you, preparing something on the counter that you can't see. "You see, I have a new knight. But he isn't from Velantra, or this planet. Instead, he hails from the stars."
Perhaps you sound insane, but to her, you're not sure anything sounds absurd.
"I discovered today that he is fuelled by a substance known as energon. The word is foreign to me, but perhaps you know more of it," you continue, taking the vial of energon from the pouch harnessed around your waist. "I also discovered that his supply is short, and I fear for what will happen to him if he runs out."
Sol Madeis turns from the counter and walks over to you, holding two cups of tea. She sits next to you on the pillows, and you are blinded by her sheer beauty up close. She is ethereal, there is no better word for it.
You take the tea she offers you, but you're unable to look away from her.
"Continue, my dear," she prompts.
"Y—Yes. My apologies. As I was saying, he needs this fuel to live. There's no natural source for it that we know of. Legends say that you are a mystical mage who can make the impossible a reality, so I come to you with a plea."
She looks down at the vial in your hand before she takes it, bringing it up to her eye level to inspect the liquid.
"You wish to know if I can make more?" She asks.
"I would be indebted to you if you could," you reply eagerly, wrapping both hands around your cup of tea.
"Your concern for your knight is admirable. You would take the half days journey to meet with me on nothing more than a rumour, ready to face any danger that might meet you on the road here, and not bring any companion apart from your horse," she observes as she swirls the vial.
"If I may speak freely, I have recently lost my sworn protector. I do not wish to lose another so soon," you say.
"Is that so?" She asks, amused by your reasoning.
What you don't know is that Sol Madeis does not just know everyone born to this land, but also what fate has in store for them. She can see how your life will develop simply by looking at you, but these powers are not to be shared with mortals.
"I will be able to make more for you," she warmly delivers the good news.
You sigh a breath of relief, thankful that your efforts have not been in vain.
"Thank you! This means a great deal to me. Please, name your price and I will see it delivered," you offer.
"No payment or trade is required, Princess. Though I will need a couple of days to perfect the formula."
"That is more than acceptable," you reply immediately, "Please, should you ever need anything that you believe the Crown may assist you with, we will be happy to oblige."
Sol Madeis smiles heartily with a short laugh, taking her bright hand to cup the side of your face.
"Return to the palace, my child. The journey is long, and I should like to see you returned safely. I will have a Fae of Light accompany you, and the energon will be delivered to you in constant supply once ready."
next -> (w.i.p)
y’all are gonna get catapulted into some plot next chapter. anyway, i hope you enjoyed this chapter, and i hope you have a lovely rest of your week! ꨄ︎
Hey because TFA Megatron is a connoisseur of sorts, do you think he’d try a different human than his owns period pussy and be like “ :[ the flavors wrong… where are my delicious notes of copper? My hint of [very specific taste that probably came from his humans body wash or laundry detergent], this is revolting compared to my humans delicious period pussy…. :[ “
eufiufeifiewuieuifeuifueiu oh my god
This would be so funny. He's ordering Blitzwing and Lugnut to collect humans on their periods, all so he can try different period blood
Unicron*Holding Mantis in his palm*So...You're the survivor of his murders,Thank the creator you took after your carrier...
Mantis*Hasnt seen him since she was but a child*It's been so long mister unicron...I only came back to visit my bro-
Unicron*Snaps his fingers and a contract appears before mantis*Sign here Child
Mantis*Blinks and looks confused*Whats?...this?...
Unicron:Well,That Fragging Loser is dead now,Your now one my children as soon as you sign it...You'll have a whole planet of actual family,you can leave whenever you want but i do expect some texts and pic-...why are you crying?
Mantis*Touches her cheek and feels tears,doesnt flinch when Unicron wipes her tears*I-I dont know?...I just thought you wouldnt like me given who my father was-
Unicron:IM your father now,Peter Quill and You share blood...just sign it child
Mantis signs the contract and unicron simply lets her cry untill you arrived,He puts mantis beside you
Unicron:Speaking of siblings,This is Y/n,Your younger sibling,they shall be your guide on earth when peter isnt available...now i must work,See you untill our family dinners
And now Mantis is Introduced to the cybertronians friends you befriended in secret,which suprised her given Unicron HATES the offsprings of Primus-
Cyb1: Can I ask you a personal question?
Mantis: Oh, I'm now great personal question!
Cyb1: The antennae, what are they for?
Mantis: Their purpose?
You enter the room, pouring yourself and Mantis some tea,Rolling your eyed as your Friends question Mantis
Cyb2: Yes, He and I have a bet.
Cyb1: You're not supposed to say that-
Mantis:I think they have something to do with my empathic abilities,If I touch someone I can feel their feelings...
She looks at your close friend and smiles holding her hand out,asking if she may touch him,which he does...
Mantis*Looks suprised but smiles in awe*You feel love...
Cyb*Nods at that*-Yeah, I guess, yeah, I have sort of a general, unselfish love for everyone.
Mantis*Shakes her head*-No, romantic, sexual love!
Cyb1*Feels panic and he shakes his head*-No. No, I don't!
Mantis*Points at you with glee*-For them!
Cyb1*Pulls away his servo fast and yells*-No!
You turn towards them embarrassed,Only for Unicron to come and heard that...and starts LAUGHING UPROARIOUSLY-
Unicron*In his Smaller form,with a "Kiss the Chef" Apron*HAHAHAHA!?-She just told everyone your deepest, darkest secret, you pathetic worm!-HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!YOU MUSY BE SO EMBARESSED!?!-
Mantis touching Unicron and both of them bully the bot crushing on you:
Trust me...Unicron wanted to take Mantis in the break up with Ego but the lawyers didnt let him,took him awhile but now mantis is apart of his spawns...
Thank @witherlove for this inspo-
@revelboo
@aurox031
@bird-in-the-space not the four harbingers arriving to the dinner and seeing...a new chair added to the table(Harbingers:THE HELL YOU MEAN YOU ADOPTED YOUR EX'S KID!?)
@random-fandom1984
@harveybwabbit92
@tinyfroglove
Who do you guys see mantis embarresing?...Optimus Prime?...Swerve?,Megatron?
imagine wearing lingerie the same colour as your bots ehehe
i know optimus would blow a fuse
These cybertronians are not gon be able to fight well enough to keep themselves upright and to behave. They're gonna be absolute FIENDS when they see you in lace, satin or silk consisting of their colors.
FIENDS, I tell ya.
The engines on them are revving, the fans are so feckin loud that it doesn't take much for somebody walking by to put two and two together. That they are hot and bothered under the collar. Optimus would be so embarrassed later if somebody heard his horn go off and his smokestacks popping off with smoke. At that time, he did not care at all cause you're looking absolutely delicious to his optics and just begging to be devoured by him. You better hope either way you're able to walk by the end of this week.
