Doctor Silver Head

Y/N: Optimus, you ready for the Halloween party tonight? Optimus Prime: Ready is... a relative term. I attempted to “carve” a pumpkin. It exploded. Y/N: …how big was the knife? Optimus Prime: A short sword from Cybertron. Slight miscalculation in force. Y/N: So basically, your pumpkin became pumpkin soup? Optimus Prime: On the bright side, Bumblebee claimed it was “aesthetic.” Y/N: That’s one way to start a trend. Optimus Prime: I still lack... a costume. Humans disguise themselves to honor spirits, yes? Y/N: Technically, yes—but we also just like candy and chaos. Try something ironic. Like...go as a *truck.* Optimus Prime: That was... *unnecessary.* Y/N: Sorry, couldn’t resist. Optimus Prime: What is your costume, Y/N? Y/N: Vampire barista. Black apron. Fake fangs. Coffee addiction. Totally me. Optimus Prime: *Impressive disguise.* I almost did not recognize you. Y/N: Flattery from a 28-foot Autobot leader? My Halloween is complete. Optimus Prime: Y/N, I brought candy. 60 kilograms of miniature chocolates. That’s... appropriate, correct? Y/N: Dude, you’re about to make every neighborhood kid worship you. Optimus Prime: Then I have achieved... morale victory. Y/N: Okay, but next year we’re doing matching costumes. I’m thinking vampire barista + giant espresso machine...guess who’s the machine? Optimus Prime: I shall accept this duty... in the name of Halloween and for you.. Y/N: ......

Submissive! Yandere! Megatron x Dom! Female Human Reader Headcanons!

Megatron is utterly consumed by you. He craves for your approval and any form of attention you give him sends him into a spiral of obsession. The moment you give him a command, his world revolves around fulfilling it, no matter the cost. In his optics, you are the only one who matters, and everyone else is a distraction he’ll swiftly eliminate.

Beneath his towering form and commanding voice, there’s a vulnerability he hides in your presence. His desire to please you runs deep, and he finds himself trembling, both from fear and longing, each time you demand his obedience. He doesn’t want to disappoint you, he needs to be the one to serve you.

He craves your touch, but it’s twisted. The gentler you are with him, the more it drives him wild. A light caress, a single brush of your fingers across his cold armor, he shudders like he’s been touched by fire. His obsession grows darker with every moment you allow him close, and he begins to need you. He’ll pull you into his arms, forcing you to feel his power, before whispering, “No one else will have you. You belong to me.”

Megatron is always second-guessing himself around you. Does he measure up? Are you satisfied with him? The thought of losing you to someone else makes him desperate, leaving him clingy, vulnerable. When you grow distant or show disinterest, he begs for your attention, desperate for a simple sign that he’s still worthy of you.

The moment another being—human or Cybertronian—so much as looks at you, Megatron is consumed by jealousy. His voice darkens, deepens, and he insists you come to him, pulling you away violently. He won’t hesitate to remind you that you are his "gently." Any flirtation from someone else is met with ruthless punishment—Megatron will destroy anyone who dares to threaten his claim on you.

In private, he’s your devoted servant. Megatron kneels before you, submitting completely. As he speaks in a low, desperate voice, "Command me, Master. I exist only for you." You’re his reason for existence.

His affection is dark, almost suffocating. If you push him away or give any hint of disapproval, he becomes furious. He may lash out—controlling you, pulling you back into his grasp, to remind you that you belong to him. "You think you can reject me?" he’ll hiss, his hand locking around your wrist, "You’re mine. No one will take you from me."

Thank you!

Under His Control (Optimus Prime AOE X f!reader) Oneshot!

Summary: Captured by the Autobots after being suspected of working with KSI, you're interrogated by none other than Optimus himself. Cold. Intimidating. But when you refuse to break, he takes a darker route, not torture, but psychological dominance. He knows your weaknesses, especially the one you don’t want to admit: how you want to be near him, even now. The line between captor and protector gets dangerously thin.

The metallic walls of the Autobot base felt like they were pressing in around you as you sat bound to the cold chair. The air was thick with silence, the hum of distant machinery barely cutting through the tension that hung between you and the towering figure before you. Optimus Prime, once your ally, now stood as a judge, jury, and executioner in the same breath.

His gaze was unyielding, his optics glowing a piercing blue as they fixed on you. You could feel the weight of his stare, each glance sharp, as though it were slicing through you. The room was suffocating, the temperature rising by the second, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the tension or the sheer heat of his presence.

You had been accused. Working with KSI. A traitor. A lie.

"I didn’t—" you started, trying to find your voice, but Optimus held up a hand, silencing you instantly. His fingers, sharp and intimidating, almost glowed in the dim light.

"Don’t," he said, his voice deep and gravelly. "I know what you did." He took a step closer, his massive form overwhelming you. "You think I don’t know what you’re capable of?"

Your breath caught as his presence filled the room, his towering frame nearly dwarfing everything in sight. But it wasn’t just his size that rattled you, it was the intensity. The sheer force of his being that seemed to envelope the entire space.

He didn’t give you time to speak. Without a word, his large hand reached down and gripped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. The touch was rough, possessive. His fingers dug into your skin enough to make your heart pound in your chest.

"I’ve never trusted you," he murmured, voice low and thick with something darker than anger. Something primal. "But now… now I need to make sure you understand just how far you’ve crossed the line."

He wasn’t asking for your compliance. It wasn’t a request.

It was an order.

Your chest heaved in anticipation, the heat building between you both. The tension was unbearable. You didn’t know if you should fight him or fall to your knees in surrender. Your body trembled, caught in a web of fear, desire, and something far more dangerous. And then, Optimus leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

"Do you understand?" His voice was a whisper that vibrated in the space between you. "You belong to me now. I will break you, piece by piece, until you see what you’ve done."

The words sent a shiver down your spine. You tried to ignore it tried to push the thought of what you knew he was capable of but it didn’t work. He was right there, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. He was the storm, and you were caught in its center.

Optimus’s grip on your chin tightened, forcing you to meet his unrelenting gaze. His lips brushed against your skin, just a breath away from your ear.

"You will be punished for your betrayal," he said, his voice like a dark promise, his words laced with an emotion you couldn’t fully understand. "But first, I want you to feel what happens when you defy me."

Before you could react, his lips crashed down on yours, not gentle, not even tender, but with an almost brutal urgency. The kiss was hungry, desperate, claiming. His hands found your waist, pulling you roughly toward him until your body collided with the cold, unyielding frame of his. You gasped into the kiss, and he didn’t waste a moment, his tongue invading your mouth with a dominance that made your head spin.

There was no hesitation. No room for any ounce of doubt.

His large frame loomed over you, caging you in. The scent of him, metal, oil, something primal, filled your senses. You could feel his heat radiating against you, his body pressed against yours with such force that you could barely breathe.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you fought the need to surrender. But with each touch, each breathless kiss, it became harder to resist. The fire that sparked between you both burned hotter than anything you had ever experienced. His hands roamed down your sides, possessive, claiming, leaving trails of warmth in their wake.

The kiss deepened, each movement deliberate, pushing you further into the haze of desire that clouded your mind. You couldn’t think, couldn’t fight it anymore. Every touch, every brush of his body against yours sent waves of heat crashing through you. "You will learn your place," he growled against your lips, his voice dripping with authority. "And once you do, you’ll beg me to never stop."

His words sent a shock through your body, the combination of fear and desire threatening to overwhelm you. Your body responded to him, despite every logical part of your mind screaming for you to fight, to push him away. But there was something inside you that wanted this. Something you couldn’t escape.

Optimus’s hand slid beneath the fabric of your shirt, his touch searing against your skin. He was rough, his fingertips pressing hard against your ribs, his grip like steel. The power he held over you was suffocating, and yet, you couldn’t help but lean into it, your body betraying you with every movement.

"Do you feel that?" he asked, his voice hushed, almost a growl. "That’s the difference between you and everyone else. You think you can escape the consequences. But I am the consequence. I will own you."

You swallowed, fighting to steady your breath as he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes. His expression was unreadable, but the flicker in his optics betrayed the storm inside of him.

"You’re mine now," he said again, his voice a dark promise. His lips hovered over yours, his body practically vibrating with tension. "And I will never let you forget it."

Electric Whispers (TLK Bumblebee X Fem!Human Reader)

The night air was thick with warmth, the hum of cicadas barely audible over the distant rush of the wind. The battle was over, but the adrenaline still pulsed through your veins. Not from fear. Not from war.

From him.

Bumblebee stood before you, his optics glowing softly in the dim moonlight, his massive frame casting long shadows over the earth. He had his voice now, a gift restored after so many years of silence. And the way he spoke sent shivers racing down your spine.

“You’re staring again,” he rumbled, amusement lacing his deep, almost velvety voice.

Your lips parted slightly, a flush creeping up your neck. “Can you blame me?”

He chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chassis, and something in that vibration struck deep in your core. He took a slow step forward, towering over you, his vents exhaling softly.

“I should be the one staring,” he murmured, optics flickering as they scanned over your smaller form. “You’re beautiful.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You had never heard him say it before, never in his own voice. The radio clips, the gestures, the way he had always protected you spoke volumes, but this? This was something else.

Bumblebee’s servos reached for you, warm metal brushing against your skin, careful, reverent. His touch sent a shiver racing down your spine, your body responding to him in a way that was both instinctual and terrifyingly overwhelming.

“I’ve always wanted to say that,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “To tell you how much you mean to me. To tell you how long I’ve wanted this.”

His massive fingers traced along your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his optics. You could see it in them, the hunger, the hesitation, the raw, unfiltered devotion.

And then he kissed you.

Or at least, as close to kissing as he could.

His faceplate pressed against your lips, the metal warming under your touch. His vents hitched, his grip on you tightening as your fingers curled into the seams of his face, urging him closer, deeper.

“Y/N, you don’t know what you do to me,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against yours.

His hands were large, powerful, and yet infinitely gentle and they trailed down your sides, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat between you was intoxicating, a slow-burning fire threatening to consume you both.

“I need you,” he confessed, voice raw with longing. “Tell me you need me too.”

Your breath came fast, your body arching into his. “I do. I always have.”

A deep, guttural sound rumbled from his chest, the vibrations spreading through you. And then he was everywhere, his lips trailing along your throat, his servos gripping your hips, pressing you impossibly close.

Bumblebee had always been your protector. Your best friend. Your everything.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was yours. Completely.

The night stretched on, heavy with the weight of what had just transpired between you and Optimus. His frame still trembled slightly, vents releasing uneven bursts of heated air. He held you carefully—almost too carefully, as if the sheer force of his emotions might break you. But he didn’t let go.

He couldn’t.

His massive servos curled possessively around your waist, pulling you closer, his helm resting against your smaller form. You could hear the deep, rhythmic hum of his spark beneath his plating, pulsing hard and erratic—far from the controlled, unwavering Prime the world knew.

He was still lost in you.

Optimus had spent centuries keeping himself composed, controlling every emotion, every urge. But you… you shattered that control. And now, he couldn't—wouldn’t—let you go.

His optics followed your every movement, hyper-focused, obsessed, drinking in every shift of your expression, every breath, every tiny quiver of your lips. You were his now. Completely.

His servo tightened slightly around your waist, just enough for you to feel the weight of it. His voice, deep and raw, rasped against your skin: “You belong to me.”

The words weren’t a question. They weren’t even a request. They were a statement of fact. A vow.

If another Autobot dared step near the outpost? His glowing optics darkened, his entire frame going rigid, positioning himself between you and them. They were no threat, not really—but the mere thought of someone else even looking at you made his circuits burn.

Jealousy settled deep in his spark, something he had never allowed himself to feel before. But now? The idea of you giving attention to another—laughing with someone that wasn’t him, touching someone that wasn’t him? It infuriated him.

“No one else,” he murmured, pressing his helm against your shoulder, his massive frame coiling around you like a shield. “Only me. Say it.”

You swallowed hard, fingers brushing the seams of his faceplate. He leaned into your touch desperately, his vents shuddering. “Only you, Optimus,” you whispered.

He exhaled sharply, and if he were human, you swore he would have moaned.

---------------

But even in his possessiveness, his devotion—fear crept in.

Had he been too much? Had he let himself go too far? The thought made his grip on you loosen slightly, his optics dimming with something that almost looked like regret.

He wanted you so badly, and for the first time in centuries, he had taken something for himself. But now, the weight of it terrified him.

He was a warrior. A Prime. A machine built for battle, for war. And you? You were everything he was not. Soft. Warm. Human. How could you ever truly belong to him?

“I should not have…” His voice wavered, and you had never heard it sound so fragile.

You reached for him, your hands brushing his battle-worn plating. “Optimus,” you murmured, commanding his attention. “I chose this. I chose you.”

His optics flickered, uncertain, searching. “Even knowing what I am?”

“Especially knowing what you are.”

And just like that, his resolve snapped all over again.

He crashed into you—holding, cradling, devouring.

This time, when he kissed you, there was no hesitation, no restraint—only pure, unfiltered devotion.

---------------

Optimus had fought every battle, faced every enemy—but nothing had prepared him for this.

The instinct was primal, something ancient buried deep within his coding. Now that he had you, his entire being demanded more.

He had always known about sparkbonding, the Cybertronian act of permanently linking one’s spark with another’s essence. It was irreversible. Sacred. And now…

He wanted it with you.

His fingers trembled as they traced your skin, optics burning with something deeper than desire—something eternal.

“I want to bond with you,” he admitted, voice raw. “To make you mine, forever.”

You felt the weight of those words. Cybertronians didn’t bond lightly. It was a lifetime commitment, a merging of souls, a connection that no force in the universe could break.

“What does that mean?” you asked softly.

He gently cupped your face, his digits careful, reverent. “It means my spark will recognize you as its mate. That I will always feel you. That no matter where you go, I will be with you.”

His vents hitched, his body trembling with restraint. “But if I do this, I will never be able to let you go.”

The weight of his words settled deep in your chest, but there was no hesitation when you whispered: “Then take me, Optimus.”

His entire frame shuddered violently, his optics burning with unrestrained devotion.

He pulled you flush against him, his servos curling possessively around your body. His chest plating shifted, parting slightly, exposing the faint, pulsing glow of his spark. You gasped as the warmth of it enveloped you, a sensation like nothing you had ever felt before—like pure energy, raw and electric, pulling you in.

And as you reached toward it, allowing yourself to be claimed by him, Optimus whispered your name like a prayer.

Because tonight, you were not just his lover.

You were his bonded love. His forever.

Tag list:

Summary: Optimus Prime—leader of the Autobots, a warrior, a protector, a Prime. To the world, he is a symbol of strength and unwavering resolve. But to you? He is yours.

Warnings: Submission, yandere behavior, possessiveness, mild degradation

Like a Loyal Dog, Wagging His Tail Just for You

In battle, he is the fearless leader, issuing commands, standing tall, unshaken by war. But the moment he sees you? That all crumbles.

His glowing optics soften, his frame relaxes, and if he had a tail, it would be wagging uncontrollably.

You barely have to say a word before he’s at your feet, kneeling, massive servos resting on his thighs as he waits for your touch.

“You have returned to me,” he murmurs, pure adoration in his voice, as if you had been gone for years instead of mere hours.

Craving Your Touch, Desperate for Your Praise

The weight of leadership is suffocating. The Autobots need him. The world depends on him. But he? He only needs you.

He practically melts at the slightest touch—your fingers in the seams of his faceplate, nails dragging lightly down the plating of his throat, a soft caress along his helm.

A low, shuddering vent escapes him, his frame trembling under your touch. "More," he whispers, his voice pleading.

He needs your praise. Tell him he’s good, tell him he belongs to you, and he will do anything.

If you call him “good boy”? His whole frame locks up, a shudder running through him as his vents stutter. Prime, he needs to hear it again.

A Yandere in Chains, Bound Only to You

He is obsessed with you. Not in the way a leader protects his ally—but in the way a beast craves its master.

He watches you. Always. His optics track your every movement, memorizing the rhythm of your breath, the tilt of your head, the way your lips move when you speak.

Jealousy? It burns in his spark. Rage? It simmers beneath his plating. But he never lets it show—because you wouldn’t like that. And he wants to be good for you.

But Prime will hurt anyone who touches you. They won’t live to regret it.

"You don’t need anyone else," he murmurs, pressing his helm against your chest, clinging to you like a lost spark. "Just me. Only me. Say it."

And Prime, when you kiss him? His whole body shudders with bliss.

Submitting Completely, Breaking Under Your Command

The strongest being on Earth, the leader of an entire faction, kneels at your feet.

Willingly.

Desperately.

He whimpers when you deny him, shudders when you praise him, melts when you touch him.

"Use me," he begs, optics burning with need. "I exist only for you."

When you tug him by his chin, forcing him to look up at you? His vents stall, his frame locks, and his spark pounds so violently he fears it might shatter.

He Would Kill for You. He Would Die for You.

No one is allowed near you without his permission. No one speaks to you without him watching. No one dares to touch you.

If someone tries to take you from him? They disappear.

You don’t ask questions. He doesn’t offer answers. But the way he clings to you afterward, whispering your name like a sacred prayer? You know.

And Primus, the way he shakes with bliss when you stroke his faceplate and say, "Good boy."

That alone makes the carnage worth it.

You Are His Master. His Goddess. His Everything.

To the world, he is Optimus Prime.

To you? He is nothing without you.

"I am yours," he whispers in the dead of night, curled around you, his massive servos caging you in, holding you as if you might vanish. "Forever."

And Primus help anyone who tries to take him from you.

You: Why do I hear sirens?

Mirage: Okay, before you freak out, just know that technically, I didn’t mean to start a police chase.

You: Mirage… what did you do?

Mirage: In my defense, they looked like they wanted to race. You: YOU WERE AT A RED LIGHT!!

Steel and Skin (Bayverse TLK X Fem!Human Reader)

The night was quiet. Too quiet.

It was a rare thing, peace. The battlefield had long since faded behind them, and yet, war still raged within Optimus. It had been months since he had returned to Earth—since he had been freed from Quintessa’s grasp—but the echoes of Nemesis Prime still clawed at his mind. The guilt. The shame. The loss.

And yet… here you were.

Soft. Warm. Human. Everything he was not. Everything he had sworn to protect.

You sat beside him in the secluded Autobot outpost, your fingers trailing absentmindedly across the cool metal of his servo. It was a touch he never thought he could have, never dared to dream of. But when you looked up at him, eyes full of something so gentle—so unwaveringly devoted—he felt his carefully constructed walls begin to crack.

"You're thinking too much again," you murmured, shifting closer.

He exhaled a vent of warm air, the soft rumble of his spark echoing in his chassis. "It is difficult not to."

A sad smile played at your lips. "You always carry everything alone."

"I must," he whispered.

"No, you don’t."

You reached out then, pressing your palm against the center of his chestplate, where his spark pulsed faintly beneath layers of metal. He stiffened at first—fragile, human hands touching something so vital, so sacred—but he did not pull away. He couldn't.

Because for the first time in centuries, he felt wanted.

And that terrified him.

"I don't deserve this," he murmured, optics dimming. "Not after what I've done."

"You do," you countered, firmer now. "You’ve fought, you've suffered, and you still chose to protect. You still chose to come back." Your fingers splayed wider, tracing the subtle pulse beneath the plating. "Let yourself have this, just once."

Something inside him broke.

His massive servos trembled as they came to cradle you, as though you were something too precious—too fragile—to be held by hands that had known nothing but war. He lifted you with reverence, bringing you closer, pressing you against the unyielding surface of his frame.

His frame tensed beneath your touch. A battle unlike any he had fought raged inside him—a war between restraint and the overwhelming need to feel you. To touch. To take.

"You are fragile," he rasped.

"And you are careful," you countered, moving closer. "I trust you."

A sigh escaped your lips as you nestled into him, your warmth seeping through the cold metal, thawing something deep inside him. He turned his helm, pressing the tip of his noseplate to your temple—a touch that, for him, was as intimate as any kiss.

His voice was hoarse, reverent. "You are my light in the dark."

Then he kissed you.

Or, at least, as close to kissing as a Cybertronian could. His lips were too rigid, too alien—but Primus, he tried. His mouth pressed against yours in soft, deliberate movements, his vents exhaling heated air between each kiss. His servos tightened around your waist, his massive frame shaking as he struggled to contain himself.

But you didn’t want him to.

"Optimus," you gasped against his lips, fingers gripping the seams of his faceplate. "Please, don’t hold back."

A deep snarl rumbled through him, a sound of raw possession, and then suddenly, you were beneath him—pinned gently against his plating as he devoured every whimper, every gasp you gave him. His mouth trailed lower, pressing heated kisses along your collarbone, over the thin fabric of your shirt. His servos, massive yet infinitely careful, slid along your thighs, parting them just enough for him to fit between them.

Your skin burned under his touch, electricity crackling in the air between you. A Prime. A warrior. A god among machines. And yet, here he was, unraveling for you.

"Tell me to stop," he growled against your skin, though he prayed you wouldn’t.

You pulled him closer, arching into his touch. "Never."

His optics flared, and the last of his restraint snapped.

And when he spoke again, it was no longer as a Prime or the last of his kind.

It was simply as Optimus.

Part 1

Optimus sat beside you, the cool night air wrapping around both of you as you leaned against his massive shoulder. The war had momentarily quieted, and the Autobots were resting at a hidden outpost. The only sound between you was the distant chirping of insects and the faint hum of his spark.

He loved moments like this. Loved when your hands brushed against him during routine check-ups, when you unknowingly soothed dents and scratches on his plating. He craved those touches, yearned for them in ways he knew he shouldn’t. Sometimes, he let his injuries linger just a little longer than necessary, just to feel your hands on him again.

But you didn’t know that. You couldn’t.

If you did, would you still look at him the way you did now? Would you still press against him so easily, seeking comfort in his presence?

Optimus shifted slightly, his vents releasing a quiet sigh. You glanced up at him, eyes soft with concern.

“You okay, big guy?”

He hesitated. He wanted to say yes. Wanted to keep this safe distance where he could admire you from afar without the risk of ruining everything. But the weight of his feelings had grown unbearable, clawing at him night after night, leaving him restless and aching.

“…No.” His voice was lower than usual, almost strained.

You sat up, turning to face him fully. “What’s wrong?”

His optics dimmed as he searched for the right words. But words had never been his strength when it came to this. To you.

Instead, he reached out—hesitantly, as if afraid you would flinch away. But you didn’t. You never did. His massive fingers brushed against your hand, so small and fragile compared to him, yet the only thing that ever made him feel whole.

“You… mean a great deal to me,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.Your brows furrowed.

“Optimus, you mean a lot to me too—”

“No.” His grip on your hand tightened just slightly. “Not as your leader. Not as a Prime.” He exhaled deeply. “As a mech who has longed for you in ways he should not.”

Your breath caught.

His spark ached as he forced himself to continue. “I have tried to suppress these feelings, to ignore the way my very core calls for you. But it is futile. Every time you touch me, every time you look at me, I find myself craving more.” His voice wavered. “I have wanted to hold you. To keep you close. To—”

He cut himself off, ashamed. “But I know… I should not. I know I cannot ask for something I have no right to have.”

Silence.

Optimus steeled himself, preparing for rejection, for you to pull away, to confirm his worst fear—that you could never see him as more than a machine.

Thank you and hope you have a good day! :D

Safe In Your Arms (Tfp Optimus Prime X Human Reader) Oneshot!

The hum of the Autobot base was soft in the background—machines whirring, distant conversations from the others, the occasional clink of Ratchet working late into the night. But in your little corner of the base, it was just you and Optimus.

You were nestled comfortably against him, resting in the massive palm of his servo as he leaned back against the wall, the gentle glow of his optics watching you with quiet adoration. His other hand carefully cradled your back, his touch light but steady—protective yet impossibly tender.

“You seem at ease,” Optimus murmured, voice deep and smooth, rumbling beneath you like distant thunder.

You smiled sleepily, nuzzling into his warm metal plating. “That’s because I am,” you admitted. “You’re like a giant, sentient heated blanket. Who wouldn’t be relaxed?”

Optimus let out a soft chuckle, the rare sound vibrating through his frame. “I do not believe I have ever been compared to a blanket before.”

“Well, you are now. A very cozy one,” you teased, shifting slightly to get even more comfortable. His armor, though solid and strong, held a warmth that you had come to love—constant and steady, like a beacon of safety in your life.

Optimus gazed down at you with an expression so soft it made your heart ache. “It brings me great comfort to know that you feel safe in my presence,” he said, his thumb gently stroking along your side in an absentminded, soothing motion.

You sighed happily, reaching up to place a hand against his plating. “Always. I trust you with everything, Optimus.”

For a moment, he said nothing—only watching you, processing your words as if they carried a weight he was both grateful for and deeply humbled by. Then, with a rare, gentle affection, he brought you closer, resting his helm lightly against you in an almost human-like embrace.

“As I trust you,” he murmured. “Rest now. I will keep watch.”

You smiled against his plating, the sound of his spark a steady lullaby in your ears. “You know,” you mused, looking up at him, “for someone so big and strong, you’re incredibly gentle.”

Optimus tilted his head slightly, his expression softening. “With you, I must be.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “You are… infinitely precious to me.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. “Optimus…”

His servo lifted, cupping you carefully, his thumb stroking soothing circles against your side. “I would keep you here forever if you wished it.” His voice was softer now, almost reverent. “To hold you, to cherish you… It is a privilege I do not take lightly.”

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks as you nuzzled closer, tucking yourself fully into his embrace. “Then don’t let go,” you whispered.

Optimus exhaled slowly, a deep, contented sound, as his arms curled protectively around you. “Never,” he murmured, his optics fluttering shut. “Rest, my spark. I am yours… as you are mine.”

And as you lay there, safe and cradled in his hold, you knew there was no place in the universe you would rather be.