pls read more if you’re looking to request and/or want to read more of my work ♥️
╭────────────────────.★..─╮
── .✦ 𝓻𝓾𝓵𝓮𝓼!!
if you want to request on anon, please read how to do so -> here <-
be kind, be respectful, be courteous.
no AI
minors dni on 18+ content.
note: i am happy to take requests, but it can take me a while to write. please be patient with me, i am trying my best <3
continuities that i know
╰─..★.────────────────────╯
── .✦ 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽:
drabble/ficlet — short and brief, headcanons/glimpses or half a fic.
one shot — standalone singular full chapter fic.
multi-chapter — part of a larger story, multiple full chapters.
ೃ➷ optimus prime
seperate list here
࣪ ִֶָ☾. megatron
separate list here
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ tarn
hot circuitry - 18+, one shot, inc. megatron.
sparked desires - 18+, one shot.
drabble - 18+
steelbound - 18+, one shot.
housewife - sfw, one shot.
crossed wires 18+, one shot, inc. overlord.
steelbound cravings - 18+, one shot, inc. megatron
cotton circuits - 18+, one shot.
little bird - 18+, multi-chapter.
✧˖° soundwave
steel melody - 18+, multi-chapter.
possession - 18+, multi-chapter.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ possession pregnancy hcs
shared - 18+, multi-chapter, inc. shockwave.
drabble - 18+
boiling point - 18+, one shot.
drabble - 18+
𖥔 ݁ ˖ shockwave
drabble - 18+
chemical desires - 18+, multi-chapter.
drabble - 18+
shared - 18+, multi-chapter, inc. soundwave
⋆ 𐙚 ̊. windblade
drabble - 18+
₊˚ ᗢ. elita
drabble - 18+
drabble - 18+, inc. arcee
drabble - 18+
sizzling fuse - 18+
*:･ velocity
drabble - 18+
⟡ scavengers
free use - 18+
ᯓ★ overlord
crossed wires - 18+, one shot, inc. tarn.
blue fire - 18+, one shot.
drabble - 18+
✦ ₊˚. arcee
sugar sweet - 18+, one shot.
drabble - 18+, inc. elita
ఌ︎. knock out
ficlet - sfw
shut up and drive - 18+
‧˚𓇼 nautica
little dancer - sfw, one shot.
ficlet - 18+
➸⊹ brainstorm
drabble - 18+
₊˚ෆ rodimus
blazing circuits - 18+, one shot.
drabble - 18+
taste - 18+, one shot.
ficlet - 18+
ficlet - 18+
𓆩⟡𓆪 multiple different bots
kinks - 18+
kinks pt. 2 - 18+
cuddles - sfw
cuddles pt. 2 - sfw
positions - 18+
positions pt. 2 - 18+
mistletoe - sfw
spike hcs - 18+
floating lanterns - sfw
joint popping reactions - sfw
lingerie - 18+
₊˚. skyfire
nebula - sfw
✠ dreadwing
drabble - 18+
drabble - 18+
drabble - 18+
⋆୨୧˚ thundercracker
drabble/ficlet - 18+
drabble/ficlet - 18+
on the edge of glory - 18+
ৎ୭ perceptor
starry night - 18+, one shot.
ೀ⋆ fort max
routine maintenance - 18+, one shot.
⋆‧° grimlock
ficlet - sfw
: ̗̀➛ ultra magnus
drunken love - 18+, one shot.
˙⋆✮ drift
drabble - 18+
quanto - 18+, one shot, inc. ratchet
•°. * ratchet
tempered nights - 18+, one shot.
quanto - 18+, one shot, inc. drift
. ݁˖ thunderclash
woven clouds - 18+, one shot.
⊱ ׅ ✧ combaticons
the more the merrier - 18+, one shot (all combaticons).
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i will never get over when i asked my ex-girlfriend (who used to occasionally read some of my smut) what she imagined when i described the reader as having hair (as she had a shaved head) and she said “i just think of you?” like it was THE OBVIOUS ANSWER
yes, u read that right, my ex-gf used to read my smut and rather than imagining herself, she imagined ME. crazy levels of cuckolding there
hello my angels!! yippee, another chapter! i'm really starting to sink my teeth into this story now. i hope u enjoy reading this as much as i enjoy writing it >:3 𑣲
<- previous
Optimus has one servo resting on the handle of his sword as he paces down the tall, lengthy corridors to reach your chambers. He had a successful recharge cycle, ready to face the next couple of weeks stronger and more alert. He only needs to rest once every two weeks, but he does require about 24 hours to take a full, uninterrupted cycle that properly revitalises him.
From an adjacent hallway, Lord Yonik appears in front of Optimus. Your knight nods politely at the Lord, not intending to make a stop. Yonik seems loyal and respectable, but there's a sense of distrust that Optimus holds towards him. If it can be helped, he'd like to keep their interactions to a minimum.
"Ah, Ser Optimus. It's fortunate I ran into you," Yonik speaks, halting in front of the metallic man. "You've not seen the Princess yet, am I right?"
With a shallow shake of his helm, Optimus confirms Yonik's thinking.
"Right. I should let you know that they took leave of the castle grounds yesterday unaccompanied, they were gone for a fair few hours, but they did return safely in the early hours of the morning. This may come as a surprise to you, but fear not. The Princess is known to be freespirited, so you will have a hard time confining them when they wish to roam free."
It's hard to read Optimus' expression when it's covered in its entirety, but Yonik can sense that this news has perturbed your sworn protector. Yonik is certain that Optimus will soon adjust to your nature, harbouring a better understanding that you don't always seem to follow requests, either from higher-ranking individuals or not.
"I appreciate you telling me this, Lord Yonik."
"Of course, it's only right that you should know such a thing. The King is already aware of their unscheduled absence."
"Will that be all, my Lord?" Your knight asks, hoping to wrap up this conversation sometime soon.
"Yes. I apologise for delaying you," Yonik says, sidestepping soon after to remove himself from Optimus' path.
The duochrome mech marches on, continuing his journey to your quarters. His steps are now heavier, more adamant. He asked one thing of you: do not leave the castle grounds whilst he recharged. And what did you do? Exactly that. Insolence is what it is.
Optimus knocks on the large oak doors to your chambers, waiting patiently for a response. He can hear murmurs inside, likely you and either your lady's maids or ladies-in-waiting.
After a few moments, one door cracks open slightly to reveal Thessa, who cranes her neck back to look at your visitor. His bright blue visor bores down in her direction, his large frame engulfing the entire slight opening.
"I would like to speak with the Princess," he says bluntly.
Thessa turns at her waist to look back at you. You're sitting at your vanity, with Phria behind you combing the length of your hair.
"I'm not sure—"
"It wasn't a request, Miss Thessa," Optimus sharply interrupts.
Your lady's maid awkwardly clears her throat, not one to stand up against any kind of authority. She steps to the side, opening the door more to allow Optimus in. Entry to your quarters like this usually wouldn't be sanctioned, but with two bystanders present, an exception could be made.
"It is not very knightly for you to barge into a princess' room like this, Ser," Phria comments snarkily as Optimus draws up behind the two of you. You can see his reflection in your oval mirror, looking at him through the image. It seems he is not in the best of moods this morning. You can only imagine why. He says nothing in response to Phria, and doesn't engage in conversation with you, silently expecting you to make your excuses.
"Thessa, Phria, would you mind leaving us for a moment?" You ask without looking away from your knight.
"Are you cer—"
"Please," you cut Phria off before she can finish.
The two women glance at each other uncertainly, but know not to challenge a direct request. They turn on their heels, making a hasty exit, but remaining close by on the other side of the door. It's almost scandalous to leave an unchaperoned male— knight or not— organic or not— alone with a princess.
"I am told you were unaccounted for last night," Optimus says, his tone strict and straight.
"'Unaccounted for' seems like an exaggeration. The palace knew that I had left," you reply. It's true. It's not as though you fled in secret. Many witnesses saw your departure.
"And yet I explicitly asked you not to leave," he retorts sternly.
Your brows furrow at his tone, turning around on your stool to face him properly. You look up at him, still in your evening robes. The King might keel over if he found out you were alone with Optimus right now, especially considering the connotations such a thing can have in this day and age.
"I am the Crown. I may move around my realm as I please," you challenge, cocking your brow. It's true that Optimus is there to keep you safe, but you are not a child in need of constant supervision, and he'd be wise to learn such a thing.
"You are my responsibility, Princess. I do not impose sanctions on you to keep you restricted. I request you act with a modicum of wisdom so that I can serve my role efficiently. I swore an oath to protect you, but your actions last night prevented me from fulfiling my sworn vows."
They're stringent, hard words. A tone and manner of speech that not many would speak to you with, save perhaps the King himself. Your obstinance fizzles slowly once you realise that Optimus' concerns are rooted somewhere deep and meaningful, your displeased expression fading into calmness.
"Please accept my apologies, Ser. I assure you that I did not mean to worry you," you relent with a sincere apology.
The slight recoil in his frame tells you that he was not expecting you to apologise, but to instead continue challenging him and his judgement.
"I was advised that you are freespirited. I do not wish to dull that trait of yours, as freedom is your right as a sentient being. I would simply like to be made aware if you intend to leave again, unchaperoned or not," he requests.
"Of course. I will be more considerate in future, and ensure I enlighten you to any plans that see me leaving the castle grounds."
Again, Optimus finds himself at a loss for words at your willingness to accept fault. He believed you would argue, that you would not take kindly to a lecture from someone who does not hold the equivalent of your station.
"For what purpose did you leave, if I may ask?" He eases away from scolding you.
"Before I answer that, tell me why you misled me on your supply of energon? You told me you had plenty, but when I sought your reserves, I was surprised to see you only had a single barrel," you counter, tilting your head slightly with curiosity.
For a moment, it looks as though he isn't certain how to answer that. As always, it can be difficult to discern how he feels or what he's thinking thanks to his covered face, but sometimes his body language gives you certain tells.
"I— I did not wish to concern you with trifling matters," is all he says.
"Trifling?" You echo, cocking one brow. "You believe the vital sustenance of my sworn protector is a trifling matter? I apologise, Ser, but I could not disagree more."
He invents shortly, and you wish to interrogate him more on the matter. If he knew he would be leaving Cybertron permanently, why did he not ensure he had enough energon to see him through? Why would he not keep to other mechanical planets which would surely have supplies of energon?
Your desire for further questioning will have to wait as a sight catches in the corner of your eye. You turn your head, peering out of your window. Three large, striking dragons, which are known to this land, are taking flight above the city.
Standing from your stool, you walk over to get a better look. An uneasy frown forms on your lips as you follow their movements, circling the skies like a bad omen.
"The dragons are unsettled," you comment.
"How can you tell?" Optimus asks after he follows you, watching the magnificent beasts soar through the skies.
"It's rare that all three of them emerge from their keeps. Contrary to what you might believe, they're fairly docile in nature, yet prophetic. If they've been stirred in this way, it leads me to believe something is out of balance."
. ݁ ⟡ ݁ .
Sitting upon your father's throne, you have been seated before a crowd of villagers and townsfolk alike. They have gathered to make their petitions, relaying whatever struggles they might be having and seeking aid from the Crown. You've heard close to 15 petitions at this point, and now, only one remains.
She is petite in stature, with sun-kissed skin, large brown eyes, and short brunette hair. She seems no older than 18 years of age, and her energy tells you that she is incredibly overwhelmed to be here.
The last petitioner looks to you, knowing that it's her turn to speak now that all other 14 civilians have left one by one. You smile warmly at her, sensing her anxiety. She staggers in a low bow to you, and you must assume that this is her first time making a request to the Royal household.
"You need not be nervous. Please, tell me your name," you request softly.
"M—My name is Aswin, Your Grace," she stutters.
"Okay Aswin, how may I be of service to you today?"
"Our livestock has suffered a terrible disease outbreak. My family and I rely heavily on this livestock for funds and sustenance, and we fear that if the disease spreads any further, we will suffer terribly in the coming months," she splurts all at once, as though she could not be more eager to part with the words. You nod along, showing your true attention to the matter.
"I see," you hum, "I am deeply sorry to hear of your troubles, Aswin. Rest assured, the Crown does have access to healers who specialise in animal and livestock care. They are roaming healers, but if we send word for them, I'm sure one of them will be able to reach you before the week's end."
Her brown eyes light up at your positive news, clapping her hands together as a giddy gasp is sucked through her smiling lips. That seems to have eased her anxieties, at the very least.
"My family and I are indebted to you, Princess," she says, lacing her fingers together before bowing deeply.
"Please rise, Aswin. No debt needs to be paid to us. It is our responsibility to care for you," you reply truthfully. "Will that be all today?"
"Yes," she says as she rises, nodding her head.
"Good," you say with a smile, "You may return home. Please provide my guards the location of your farm on your way out and I will see to it that the healers are sent your way as soon as possible."
"Thank you," she replies humbly, the smile unable to be wiped from her lips.
As the final petitioner leaves the throne room, the space becomes your own once again. You sigh lightly, sitting back in the chair to contemplate how to now put your words in action in the swiftest way possible.
"You have an admirable trait of empathy, Princess," Optimus says to you.
"It is my duty to help," you tell him, "I hear these petitions and do whatever I can within my power, the Crown's power, to aid the people. Peace is something my ancestors have worked hard for. One day, when I sit the throne officially, I hope to continue that.”
"I have no doubt that you will, Princess," Optimus replies.
Duty and responsibility, especially that in relation to a large group of individuals, is another thing that Optimus understands well. It came with the territory of bearing the Matrix.
"It goes without saying that I will require a strong, faithful knight by my side to rule efficiently. I do hope that you see yourself living up to that task, Ser," you comment with a slight smile.
Before Optimus can think to answer, the roaming restless dragons let out a unanimous roar that shakes the foundations of the castle. You gasp sharply, the immediate panic shooting through you.
Upon the blazing sight of dragonfire erupting from each beast, both you and Optimus snap your sights to the closest window. You stand from the throne, descending the steps quickly before running over.
Optimus follows hastily, looking over your head to see what is happening. The dragons bellow and roar, blasting their fire off towards an approaching threat. You look over the vast seas, but nothing greets your line of sight.
One dragon flies towards the castle, circling it somewhat protectively, as the other two fly further South. You curl your hands over the window ledge, leaning further with anticipation.
Another clattering of noise alerts you as two sailors from Lady Ayla's navy come running into the throne room, their armour clinking and clashing noisily. They screech to a halt in the middle of the grand room, panting labouriously as they gaze upon you with terror.
"My Princess!" One shouts, "There are assailants! Many of them! All metallic in nature. They are flanking us in the Southern Seas. We tried to blockade them, but they are giants and easily disarmed us. Many of our ships have been sunk by the attack. Lady Ayla ordered us to sail here as quickly as we could to alert you!"
Your eyes widen at the shocking news, snapping your head to Optimus. Metallic in nature, they said. Your knight stares at the sailors without uttering a single word.
You recall Lady Ayla expressing that there was unusual unrest in the Southern Seas in the last Council meeting, and that the King approved her request to funnel her forces into this investigation. It seems that Lady Ayla did indeed have something to be suspicious of, and your father's initial dismissal of the matter was ridiculously foolish.
It's hard to make sense of this. You've never faced an attack, and you've not been taught what to do in the event of one. An unease shifts through you, a dark shadow of worry curling its talons around your throat in an ominous threat. Your fingers tingle with what can only be described as adrenaline, your pulse beating so fiercely in your ears that you're losing your centre of gravity.
"Does the King know of this?!" You question sharply, trying to keep it together in the face of peril.
"You are the first person we came across," the other man says through his heavy breaths.
"Alert the Royal Guard!" You order, "Have them ring the bells in the surrounding towns and villages, make sure the citizens retreat to any available bunkers."
"R—Right away, Princess," the first one to speak voices, bowing briefly at you before they turn and scutter off as fast as they can.
"What do you know of this, Ser?" You ask Optimus with a hint of suspicion laced into your words.
"There is no time," he utters quickly, twisting his frame towards you before you can make sense of it. There's no opportunity for you to flee as he grabs you by your waist, hoisting you up to fling you over his large shoulder. You yelp as your body conforms to fit in the space between his elevated pauldron and neck.
"Wha— What are you doing?!" You yell, knocking against the back of his metal frame.
"I must get you to safety quickly," he answers as he begins to pace out of the throne room, as if that makes it justified for the way he's handling you in this moment.
"Unhand me, Ser! This is an absurdity!" You shout, struggling in his grasp.
"As soon as I have you somewhere safe, I will."
"Need I remind you that you are not to touch me in this way?!"
Honestly, you wouldn't have thought his memory was so short. You only just lightly reprimanded him for touching your hips, and now here he is, flinging you over his shoulder like some brute.
He hastens through the winding corridors of the castle, the race of time weighing on his spark. He marches up some steps, jostling you in the process. You yip, planting your hands against his wonderfully carved back struts for stability.
If any Lords or Ladies see you like this— or Gods forbid— the King, Optimus will surely have his helm mounted on a spike in no time. You barely have the breath in your lungs to shout for help. The floor beneath you rolls past your sights until the stones become motioned blurs, his pace far exceeding that of any human.
All of this hassle, and still you are without an explanation.
"I am your Princess! I demand that you tell me what is happening!" You continue to yell. You don't like pulling the I am your Princess card, but it feels necessary in this moment.
"They are foes. It seems they have tracked me down to this place, and as it stands, none of you are safe. I must dismantle these adversaries as soon as I am able," he explains quickly, the words fluttering from him as though he does not have the time to do so.
"So they are here for you?!"
"I believe so."
He pulls you down off his shoulder, holding you around your waist before yanking open the door that he's stumbled across. If he remembers rightly, this leads to the West-wing tower. This should be the only point of entry and exit.
"You have brought war and ruin to my doorstep. What exactly are you?!" You demand.
"When I have eliminated the threat, I promise I will answer your questions in full," he says.
There's a part of you that wants to bite his head off for being so difficult about this. It is your right to understand what is afoot, especially considering your sworn protector seems to be involved.
"I must call upon my Autobots," he says, but you are sure if he's telling you that or himself.
Before you can open your mouth to ask what an Autobot even is, Optimus' chest cavity begins to hiss. Transformation seams that run horizontally through the broad, red chest piece begin to separate, and with it, a magnificent light unearths.
You have to squint to prevent yourself from being blinded by the initial light. It swallows any and all shadows in the immediate vicinity, and once you've somewhat adjusted, you find it easier to look again.
It is breathtakingly beautiful. It feels as though you are encountering a colour that your eyes were never taught to see. As you focus, you can make out its shape. It's spherical in the centre, with something that looks like an ocean blue gem set inside. The golden sphere is housed by two symmetrical silver handles, which have some glyphs inscribed along them which you're unable to decipher.
You are struck with a profound sense of awe, looking upon the gift of life for a species that you were never meant to be acquainted with. This is a deep sense of divinity, but you're unclear whether you should worship it or run from it. It's a miracle in physical form, hailing from a universe that has no obligation to make any sense to you. It is utterly captivating, your eyes glued to its beauty.
"Princess, I must express the importance of you remaining here until I retrieve you."
Without allowing you to protest, he shoves you through the open door, causing you to lose your footing and stumble into the small landing ungraciously. The door shuts behind you, soon followed by the sound of a bolt locking the door. There is no natural daylight in here, your only visibility is provided by the flame torch set in the stone walls. You spin on your toes, lunging towards the door before banging on it with both fists.
"You cannot imprison me in this tower, Ser!" You shout, "This is treason! Unlock this door!"
Whatever orders you issue go unheard. Optimus has already left, and there is no one in this tower nor this wing of the castle to hear you. You grunt lowly in frustration, pulling back from the door.
Looking to your left, the only thing in here is the set of stairs that leads to the top of the tower. With nought else to do, you gather the skirt of your dress before quickly ascending the steps.
They're old and uneven, but surprisingly, you manage to get up them without a hitch, even in the low light. Luckily, there are further torches lining the walls, so you are not rendered to complete darkness. You know there are a few windows towards the top, which should hopefully give you a view of what is occurring outside.
You're mumbling to yourself, cursing Optimus' audacity to handle you so unceremoniously and then proceed to shove you into a dark, long-forgotten tower. He may best you in combat, but you could teach him a few things about manners and decorum.
Outside of the tower you're ascending, Optimus is running to the closest exit. The Royal Guard have assembled, ready to take on the imminent threat that is about to land on the shores of Velantra. As he meets them in the foyer of the castle, he reverts to his former self and begins to issue orders.
"You must protect the civilians!" He barks to the soldiers and knights, "Your first priority must be protecting the innocent and defenseless. I will face the enemy, and I have called upon my allies to assist!"
"We are untrained in the art of war, Ser!" One from the crowd calls.
"I am well aware. Rest assured, I know these enemies well. I can fend them off, but I need you all to act as a unit to protect the people of this land."
None of them wishes to argue with Optimus, who has easily fallen into a leadership role. He seems experienced in this field, so they will place their blind trust in him and simply hope for the best.
With their orders delivered, the Royal Guard begin to file out of the main entrance of the castle, dividing themselves up to assist any civilian who needs it. The King and Queen are already being looked after by their own sworn protectors, and you should be safe in the tower, which is a mountain of worry lifted from his shoulders.
Optimus takes his leave from the castle to make his way as quickly as he can towards the labyrinth-like city, aiming for the shores of the Southern Seas.
Once you finally reach a window, you stand watch to see what's happening. The enemies are still not in sight, but instead, you see egg-like pods hurtling from the sky directed towards the sea, possibly a dozen of them, give or take. They rocket down with a trail of white clouds in their path, descending upon the calm seas with force.
Upon impact with the water, enormous plumes of water mushroom up before splashing back down. Whatever they are, you sure hope that they are on your side, rather than the approaching enemy's. Almost immediately, the surface of the ocean breaks as multiple metallic people, seemingly the same as Optimus, erupt from the depths.
You brace one hand against the cold stone of the window frame, bating your breath as you wait to see their next actions. Water cascades off them as they stand firmly against the seabed, the water level reaching their knees. There's one who is primarily yellow, another red, another white and blue, amongst others.
To your surprise, a growing figure starts to develop on the far shore. You gasp as your sworn sword and shield begin to grow to an astounding size, standing taller than any of his comrades, entering the ocean which is soon to be his battlefield. Your other hand covers your mouth with sheer surprise, completely unaware that Optimus had this ability to grow. If the sight of his allies is anything to go by, this seems to be his natural size.
He joins his Autobots, gesturing to them with a verbal order that you can't make out from this distance. A nibbling sense of unease pits itself at the bottom of your stomach, and suddenly, you feel too lightheaded to pay the view sufficient attention.
"Optimus!" Bumblebee shouts, "So this is where you fled to?"
"There's no time for that right now, scout."
"'Cons?" Ironhide asks.
"It would seem so."
Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear.
"Optimus!" Megatron bellows, his roar rumbling the water's surface as the horizon becomes occupied by enemies. "Did you think you could evade me?"
"The war was ended!" Optimus shouts back, crossing the water to meet his old enemy.
Megatron's appearance is sharp and jagged, with silver metal armour that has dangerous points and cutting edges. Placed in the centre of his chassis is an emblem which is whirring with spinning light. It is a purple translucent window to his spark, one that powers his army. His Decepticons, since losing the war and being stripped of their strength by high-ranking Autobots, now feed on their Master's spark energy.
Optimus narrows his sights on it, knowing exactly what his target has to be if he hopes to eradicate the threat. Whatever transpires here today, Megatron's progression into Velantra cannot be permitted under any circumstance. Optimus will fight until his spark withers if need be.
"That is where you are wrong," the silver mech sneers, drawing his sword. Optimus does the same, about to demonstrate that raw fighting power that he possesses. The gap between the two closes startlingly quickly, the drag force of the water hardly putting a damper on their respective speeds.
The age-old enemies clash immediately, sparks flying from the impact of steel on steel. The other 'Cons and 'Bots engage in the skirmish, sloshing the water of the sea as though it's a mere paddling pool for them. The lines each faction formed quickly collapse into melee. Some have cannons that are mounted within their frames, a truly revolutionary sight for your organic nature.
"It must have cut deep when you were disgraced, Optimus," Megatron taunts as they bounce off each other's attacks, the two seemingly evenly matched. "When you were shunned by the majority of your forces for your continuous blunders. For your inability to make good on the promises you made."
"You know nothing, Megatron," Optimus retorts.
"You turned your back on Cybertron. You are an abomination to the Makers!"
The resounding clashes of battle ring heavily through the atmosphere, each and every one of them thinking about victory and victory alone. The battlefield swallows them in a storm of steel and cannon fodder. The anger that roars through the song of the fight is raw and pronounced, existing as a sole entity rather than a shared emotion. Whatever trials and tribulations have been faced by these warriors have amalgamated into something much larger and uglier over the years.
Optimus fights on, even though Megatron's words have a shattering truth behind them that echoes inside of his spark. Blades shriek as they meet, the grinding bind of sword against sword clattering across all friends and foes.
"Fighting for the weak is what caused you to be banished in the first place, and here you are, repeating your mistakes!" Megatron continues to berate.
It's hard to think about, even more painful to recollect. Optimus tries not to let it eat at him whilst he's currently defending a civilisation of innocents.
"I have only ever acted in a way I believed was right," your knight defends himself, slashing Megatron's armour along the front.
The warlord staggers back with a heavy grunt, a thick line of blue liquid pearling along it forming on his chassis. His grip loosens slightly around the sword, but he is more tenacious than that. Despite the lost lifeblood, Megatron doesn't hesitate to reengage his opponent.
Optimus blocks his attacks with ease, but the impact of steel on steel shudders up his arm struts. He's fighting this battle with purpose, he has something to protect once again. The memories of his final days on Cybertron are plaguing his mind as he fights on with more vigour than before, his unresolved discontent rearing its head.
Disgraced.
Devalued.
Banished.
He's always believed in freedom for all sentient beings, sometimes to a fault. He protects those who cannot protect themselves. At times, he's prioritised other species over his own. It's within his nature, he cannot help but be the way he is. It's an admirable trait, but crippling. He was accused of being unfit to lead the cause, that he'd rather see Cybertronian losses over any other race. It was selflessness to a damaging degree.
Did some of his actions lead to unnecessary loss of his comrades? Possibly. Definitely. But did he think his actions were justified in the moment? Yes. He's never doubted that.
There are some who still subscribed to his beliefs, such as the handful of Autobots who have shown up for him now. But when the Galactic Council decided that he should be stripped of his social standing, he implored those who still followed him to denounce their faith in his own cause. He could handle being shunned as long as he alone was driven out, but he could not bear it if his closest friends and confidants were held in the same judgment.
The vile emotions simmer within him, spoiling his tanks as the reality weighs upon his shoulders once again. His distraction causes him to misstep against Megatron, suffering a blow to the chassis that has him hurtling back before crashing into the sea.
He groans deeply, the salty seawater flooding into his transformation seams. He attempts to sit up, but before he can, Megatron is on him again. The silver warlord practically mounts him, pushing his frame under the water. A ripple of rumbles bubbles from Optimus' struggle, and despite the pain of losing everything he'd known, he tries to think of what he has now.
You and your court have welcomed him graciously, tending to every need he has. None of you knows the extent of his past, all the responsibilities he once handled, but you still treat him like an esteemed individual. His time here has only just begun, and he doesn't want to see it wasted.
He pushes against Megatron's force, turning the tables with sheer strength alone. He manages to throw Megatron off of him, clambering to his feet and grabbing his sword from the seabed.
"I won't let you destroy this planet, Megatron," Optimus declares boldly, lunging for his nemesis. Megatron is still gathering his senses from being thrown through the air, only just making it to his pedes. Optimus, despite his bulky size, is surprisingly swift.
The knight's sword pierces through his opponent's chest cavity, targeting the spark which keeps the other 'Cons functional, the metal buckling beneath the blow. The sword emerges from Megatron's back, soaked in blue liquid. More energon spits from between the silver mech's sharpened dentae.
Megatron parts his derma to say something, but all that materialises is a choked, staticky noise. His optics flicker, his arm strut pulling back slowly as though he's attempting to land a blow on Optimus.
Fresh energon trickles down the hilt of Optimus' sword, covering his servos. He doesn't let up for a moment, keeping his enemy staked. His blade is caught in the casing of Megatron's spark, tearing through it with determination.
As Megatron's spark depletes of energy, so do his Decepticons. They become sluggish and rigid in their strikes, making it simple for the Autobots to evade. One by one, the enemies fall like dominoes, crashing into the shallow sea water. Without their Master's lifeline to sustain them, they're rendered empty husks.
The warlord's optics offline, but Optimus knows that this isn't death. He's fought far too many battles with Megatron to know it's never going to be that easy to eliminate him permanently.
Once Optimus is sure the threat is neutralised, he pulls his sword from Megatron's chassis. Energon drips from the blade to the sea, spreading across the surface like an oil spill. The blue colour shifts to greens and purples, circling Optimus' frame to grace him in a halo of Megatron's defeat.
next -> (w.i.p)
idk if y'all can tell but i'm kinda bad at writing battle scenes </3 i struggled so much with this LOL
desperate to write for tarn again but the tarn fuckers are not in my inbox so just know when i write for tarn i know there is no demand for him but I LOVE HIM
Could u maybe write autobots/decepticons x reader lingerie preferences? Like headcanons.. (Reader can be human or cybertronian, whatever works or is easier lol🥲)
My first time requesting, kinda shy.. ive also seen ur profile and writing and it's amazing love!
*⁀➷ lingerie
ft. optimus prime, megatron, tarn, windblade, brainstorm. 18+, minors dni
you are always welcome to ask in my inbox!! :D i wasn’t sure who you wanted, so i went with my faves tehe
optimus prime
he’s a lacy bodysuit kinda mech. he looooves seeing you in his colours, it makes him feel strangely territorial. even though he loves your body, if you’re wearing a red bodysuit with blue thigh highs, you best believe he’s just slipping the underneath of the bodysuit aside and fuck you that way. don’t expect him to be able to look away from your hips and tits
megatron
lingerie? i don’t think so. he likes you fully naked, that’s his favourite sight. actually, he’ll get down and dirty no matter what you’re wearing, but he sees any clothing as an obstruction to what he really wants
so, if you’re trying to surprise him, just wait naked on the bed. you’ll be up all night with your favourite lunatic warlord <3
tarn
he doesn’t mind if you’re wearing a two-piece or one-piece (like a bodysuit), but please, don’t miss off the thigh high stockings. those are what REALLY gets him going. tarn is so down bad for thighs it’s hilarious
he’ll take off whatever you’re wearing on your body, but he’ll insist you keep the stockings ON during sex
windblade
y’know those babydoll night dresses? i think she’d like those!! anything flowy and pretty, preferably in pink or purple. she’d be up touching you alllllll night, just wanting a piece of all THAT!
brainstorm
he’s a simple man with simple pleasures. any matching bra and underwear will do him juuuuust fine. i kinda think of him as a tits guy, so if you’re wearing a plunge/push-up, expect him to be borderline motorboating that rack, amen.
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*jumps straight into your window* akdjfkkskcjkc since you wrote for TFA Optimus, what are the chances to get something for TFA Megatron (anything you'd like !)
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ tfa megatron x human fem reader 18+
-> warnings/tags: minors dni. slight exhibitionism, large size difference. 1.6k words
guys. i have a confession. i never finished tfa LMAO. i've written this as though it takes place after tfa, but obvs i don't know the ending so if megatron didn't actually go free in tfa at the end, just pretend he did for the sake of this fic LOL
Even for a being as old as Megatron, life has a funny way of humbling us all. Megatron has conquered worlds, he's commanded legions and armies. He's survived Optimus Prime, the Autobot Elite Guard, and more than one humiliating encounter with particularly irritating humans.
All of this, and yet, he felt woefully unprepared to deal with you.
There you are, sitting silently on the armrest of his chair with a datapad in hand. You are a tiny creature, more than happy to sit cross-legged in his presence, without any unease of being on a Decepticon ship.
He stares at you, and even though he's burning holes into the back of your head, you aren't even flinching or stirring in the slightest.
"You are angry with me," he states plainly.
"Hmm?" You voice, not looking away from the datapad, "I'm not angry with you."
He narrows his optics at you, mildly annoyed at your nonchalant tone and refusal to look at him when he's talking to you.
"You have not spoken for twelve minutes," he says, believing it's sufficient evidence to his claim of your anger towards him.
"I am reading, Megatron," you reply, using your thumb to scroll onto the next page. "It's hard to talk and read at the same time."
"Only for you," he snarkily replies.
You roll your eyes at his unnecessary comment, lowering your datapad and twisting at the waist to look back at him.
"You are an ancient, mechanical being. Your mind is different to mine. You can do things that I can't, like reading and talking without hindering either," you explain to him. It's something he's already well aware of, but you tell him like he's a child anyway.
"I am aware that you are a small organic," he replies in that deep, alluring voice of his.
Rather than giving him another parry to this conversation, you simply stare blankly at him.
"That wasn't an insult," he clarifies.
"I know."
"Good."
More silence festers in the bridge of the ship, your competition of eye contact soon being broken by you so that you can go back to reading. There's no point in doing a staring contest with Megatron, considering he doesn't need to blink.
Megatron shifts in his seat, feeling as though he's made an error somewhere. He had been trying, and so far, that seemed to be the problem. He was trying.
For someone who has spent centuries viewing affection as a weakness to be exploited, the concept of caring about another individual simply because their happiness mattered to him was maddeningly difficult.
His difficulties do not lie within the characteristics needed to maintain the relationship, and he hopes you know that much. He understands loyalty, protection, possession. But what he doesn't seem to understand is the dozen tiny rituals that were expected to communicate his affections.
You've mentioned them before: flowers, dates, holding hands, remembering your birthday. Saying 'I love you' without following it with a threat.
Wherever he can, he's been reading up about physical affection. It's common between Cybertronians as well, but his experience of it is lacking. He's been far too concerned with world domination than letting his optics wander.
He wraps his servo around you, plucking you from the armrest of his chair. You yelp as he brings you closer to him, unfurling his clutched fist so that you can sit in the palm of his servo. He takes your datapad with his other servo, pinching it between two digits before placing it down.
"What was that for?" You protest with a pout.
"I think I know the answer to your displeasure," he says.
With his foredigit and thumb, he pinches the hem of your skirt before tugging on it, testing the elastic over the curve of your hips.
"Wh— What are you doing?!" You stutter.
"Trying to make you less angry."
"This is a strange way to do it!"
"If you would let me do what I need to do, you will see."
He frees you of your skirt, but his large digits are nowhere near nimble enough to rid you of your underwear. He paws fruitlessly at the flimsy fabric, unable to get underneath. He groans with a furrow of his optical ridges.
"Take them off," he orders, pointing at them.
You mewl with a sense of awkwardness, hooking your thumbs under the waistband to push them down your legs. You keep them bunched up in your hand, coiling your legs closer to your body to preserve your modesty.
"Let me see," he orders again.
"You're— mphf— being impossible," you bemoan lightly, looking away from his red stare.
"I won't ask a second time," he drawls.
Relenting, you gradually spread your legs for him to see. His optics glimmer at the wet sight that greets him, your body already buzzing with lust and excitement, even if your mind hasn't caught up yet.
A startled moan leaves you as he drags his glossa between your legs, getting every part of your pussy soaked in one fell swoop. You gasp, planting your hands on his faceplates to steady yourself.
You were never angry to begin with, but with the way his glossa explores you, you couldn't be further from anger.
"Oh fuck— Megatron!" You cry.
"I like how you taste," he burrs, his words vibrating through you. You whimper, grinding your hips pathetically against his large glossa. The friction feels so good.
You did start wondering when your relationship would develop to this point. Physical affection has been scarce, likely due to the difficulty of it. But at least he knows how to use his glossa.
"Don't stop," you plead breathily, your eyes rolling back. Your clit is throbbing against his enormous glossa, elevated more so by your weak attempts of grinding against him. He's too large for you to do so, leaving you a whimpering mess who can't do anything but receive.
He eats you hungrily and greedily, indulging himself in your sweet core. Your legs are already quivering, having to bite your lip to stop yourself from making noises that will travel through the entire ship.
You didn't quite expect your first intimate time with Megatron to be carried out on the bridge of his ship, but it's better than nothing, you suppose.
With his other servo, he takes your leg with two free digits to spread you wider for him. You whimper as you stretch impossibly wide to accommodate his large glossa. He laps at you as precisely as he can under these conditions.
"You're so good at this," you pant. "How are you so good at this?"
Maybe he's more experienced than you first thought. You have a hard time believing he's been intimate with an organic before, and frankly, the idea of it makes you jealous.
"I'm a fast learner, little one," he replies with his glossa still doing what it does best.
A subtle hissing sound comes from below, and just as you're about to ask him what it is, he quickly pulls his glossa away and rolls you onto your front. He holds you steady as you're now facing the floor, but you're completely unable to miss the view of his enormous spike bobbing between his legs.
His intake returns to you, earning another lustful sound to erupt from your lips. His other servo wraps around the width of his spike before he starts tugging at himself.
You moan pathetically, enamoured by the pink fluid dribbling from his tip. He eats you out from behind, licking you in the same rhythm that he's toying with himself.
You're so glad to see that he has something that's compatible with you. The next challenge will be overcoming the size difference. Once you have that sorted, you can get fucked senseless by your crazed, evil lover.
His glossa prods at your hole, pressing to seek entry. You shudder another low moan, clawing at his digits for purchase.
"Too big," he burrs, "It won't fit."
"Keep licking me," you plead.
"Do you like it?" He chuckles before drawing his glossa over you again. You wriggle your hips back in search of more, desperate for his wet glossa.
"Yes!" You cry, "It feels so good!"
"Don't stop making those pretty noises for me," he demands into your heat. You're not willing to refuse him, no matter who might accidentally listen in on this.
"You're so well behaved," he coos as your taste spills down his throat, "It won't take long to train you at all."
"Megatron, please! I'm close!"
Close? Close to what?
With a pitchy shrill, your body shakes with the force of your orgasm. Your vision blurs as you release that tangy taste over Megatron's glossa. He groans as soon as it blesses him.
His cooling fans click on, regulating his temperature as the taste of your orgasm made him even more ravenous than before. He almost devours you, making you scream from the overstimulation.
"Megatron!"
It's messy and loud, a mix of his oral lubricant and your own pleasure gathering on the inside of your thighs. He's jerking himself ruthlessly, eagerly seeking his own end.
"Oh my God, please! It's too sensitive!" You whimper loudly. He refuses to stop indulging in you, taking every drop you have to offer.
He takes one last lick, savouring it, as he finally gets off on it. He spurts a thick load of transfluid from his spike, it shooting out until it splatters over the floor of the bridge.
So....I absolutely loved the deathsaurus one!!!! So would it hurt to ask if I could get one with my favorite blue boy, Thundercracker. I let u choose any scene u prefer :)
༄.° thundercracker x human fem reader 18+
-> warnings/tags: minors dni. dom-ish reader, sub!thundercracker. edging, teasing, praise, orgasm denial. 2.1k words
asked my bestie who is a thundercracker expert on what they think he’d be into and VOILÀ, here we have it! enjoy my loves 💕
It would be a fair statement to say that Thundercracker is an outlier amongst his Decepticon peers. He's always been the most morally just and fair of all of them, seeking to avoid unnecessary pain inflicted as a result of this seemingly fruitless war. There was a time when Thundercracker thought he was on the right side. Where he believed he was doing the right thing.
That was a long, long time ago. Since then, he finds himself wandering in the Decepticon ranks without rhyme or reason, wondering what he's doing with himself here. The other seekers look down on him, almost disgusted with his balanced outlook on life. He doesn't make any waves, he's helpless but to follow Megatron around as if he's leashed.
Then there's you. Who's been passed off as a pet, something to keep Thundercracker entertained in the moments where his crushing duty isn't suffocating him. Megatron would never allow a human to be aboard the Nemesis if he knew what you really did for Thundercracker. The other 'Cons would never let him hear the end of it, either.
You're not exactly a dirty little secret, as your presence on the ship is definitely known, but that's about as far as it goes. The others are not aware how intimate the two of you get behind closed doors, or how much respite you truly provide the blue seeker. He often finds himself worn down and tired, but you never fail to revitalise him. He's grateful for you, that much cannot be denied.
Right now, there's something he needs from you more than the energon that flows through him.
"Tease me," he ardently requests. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, peering down at you kneeling before him with his exposed spike loosely held in your hand.
"Tease you?" You repeat, kissing up the length of his spike as you maintain eye contact with him.
"Yeah, you know about edging?" He says, rocking his hips lightly against the plumpness of your lips.
"Sure do," you reply before licking along the parallel panels.
"That's what I want you to do. I want you to edge me over and over. I hear that the eventual overload is unlike anything else."
"Oh really?" You coo, licking his length from the underside.
His intake drops open partially as he looks down at your lustful gaze. You are truly a sight to behold when you have his spike balancing on the bed of your tongue.
"So you want me to suck you over and over? Denying you release? Taunting you?" You ask sultrily.
Thundercrackers moans at your words alone, jutting his hips to feed his spike into your mouth. You huff a laugh, evading his attempts and continuing to lick on the underside of him.
When you reach his tip, you close your lips around him before sliding him into your mouth. You go down as far as you can, using one hand to hold and squeeze the base of him.
Without hesitation, you start sucking him properly. You use your tongue on the sensitive panels underneath, moaning against his length.
His smooth tip hits against the back of your throat, drops of his prefluid trickling down. It's addictive to suck him like this, from the way that he feels in your mouth to the sounds he makes.
Staticky, low moans tumble from him, motivating you to keep on going. You slurp and enjoy every moment of it, savouring his taste on your tongue.
"Love it so much when you suck me, y'know that?" He whirs, lust clouding his mind.
"Mmm," you hum in response, your mouth too full to give a real answer.
"Yeah, don't talk with your mouth full, baby. Don't you know it's rude?" He taunts with a sly grin. Your pussy throbs from his condescending tone.
"Baby— ffhh— I'm so close," he borders on whimpering.
That's your cue.
You come off his spike with a pop, leaving a string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to the tip of his throbbing spike. You pant for air, peering up at him through glassy eyes.
"Fuck," he curses as his optics flicker.
Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you can't stop the sly grin forming on your lips as you huff a short laugh.
"That's what you asked for, no?" You tease, deciding to gently jerk his length now that those crucial few seconds have passed.
"Do it again," he orders, jutting his hips forward to seek your mouth once again.
You don't need to be told twice.
Taking his spike back into your mouth, you let him glide down your throat before you suck again. You hollow out your cheeks, making sure he's entirely enveloped in your mouth.
"So good, so fucking good," he praises as his processor reels from the pleasure. It takes all of his willpower to stop himself from rutting into your mouth like a beast in heat. Primus, if he had it his way, he'd fuck you face until you're dizzy. Another time, perhaps. When he's in charge, not you.
His spike is an impressive size, large enough to make your jaw hurt. Your hand jerks the part of him you can reach, barely able to have your fingers touch. You suck him greedily, deriving more pleasure from this than you'd care to admit.
He groans low in his vocaliser, threading a servo through your hair to tangle the length around his digits. He's not forcing anything, just guiding you. You push him deeper into your throat, making you gag, but learning to live with it. Your eyes start to water as spit drips down your chin, the sounds of your wet mouth are beyond salacious.
You can feel the thrumming of his excitement in the length of his spike. He's teetering on the precipice of euphoria with each suck, his overload not far at all.
Humming into the metal, you pull your mouth off him again. He stutters a hot moan as he grinds his hips into the air, lacking a sufficient amount of friction.
"You knew I was close," he whines.
"I knew. That's why I stopped. I'm liking this," you coo before you stand. You reach down again, grabbing his spike, but not doing anything with it.
You get a bit closer to him, hoisting your knee onto the bed by his thigh strut so that he can feel the heat of your body.
"Please, baby," he whines as he thrusts into your hand. "Please let me fuck you, I need it, please!"
You giggle as you squeeze him, amused by this desperate display of lust. Lowering yourself, you stop mere centimetres from his lips to add another layer of edging.
"Oh, you wanna fuck me, hm?" You taunt, grabbing his servo with your free hand. You lead him to your clothed cunt, tucking two of his digits underneath so he can feel your slit through your underwear. "You wanna put your spike right here?"
"Yes, yes," he babbles.
"Then come take what you want," you challenge.
With a speed expected from someone like him, he grabs your waist before quickly spinning you and tossing you onto the bed. You land with a grunt, bouncing on the mattress as your breath is immediately stolen from you.
He circles you, mounting the bed by his knees before grabbing the elastic waistband of your skirt, fiercely yanking it down to start undressing you.
You arch your back and gather the material of your top in bunches, hoisting it up your torso before sitting up as much as you can to throw it off. You make quick work of your bra as well, and before you know it, you're entirely nude before him.
He splays a firm servo over your chest, pushing you back with urgency to have you pinned on the bed. Your legs fall open naturally for him, all but welcoming him to claim what is his.
Crawling between your legs, he settles. His spike bobs, more fluid spilling from the tip as he aches with need. He's never needed to overload more, the desperation is riddling him.
"You ready, baby?" He coos, jerking his length to guide it to your waiting cunt.
"More than ready," you reply breathlessly.
With that, he slides his spike in. The stretch feels so good, a moan lodging in your throat already.
"Thundercracker!" You moan, your head dropping back against the pillow. You scream into the air above as he strikes his hips over and over, bouncing your tits from the force.
"I need this. I need you," the blue mech utters as his processor becomes possessed by the feeling of your hot core.
"I'm all yours," you sigh airily, "Use me however you like."
"Mine," he growls before tucking his perfectly carved faceplates in the valley of your neck. He plants hot, open-intaked kisses there, claiming his territory.
Every inch after beautiful inch of his spike that he pumps in and out of you bends your mind into new shapes, your pitiful moans and mewls a far cry from the taunting behaviour you held earlier.
You moan shamelessly as he fucks you with enough power to have you gradually moving up the bed. Thank goodness you have a soft mattress under here. Being fucked like this on his metal berth would definitely cause a few bruises.
"Your pussy feels so good, I can't believe it. Primus, I'm so sensitive right now," he mutters against the clammy skin of your neck.
You slide your hand down between your bodies, using your middle finger to start circling your clit. He's probably going to finish quicker than usual, so you've gotta do what you need to in order to reach your peak around the same time.
He's a mech possessed by his lust. He's riddled with need, taking exactly what he wants from your body.
One servo grabs one of your bouncing tits, kneading the plump flesh as his unrelenting thrusts continue to undo the seams of your mind. He pinched a nipple lightly between thumb and foredigit, basking in the twist of pleasure forming on your fucked-out features.
"That's it, huh, baby? You like that? You like when I tease you?" He says through a heavy grin.
Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, your aching fingers still drawing tight little circles over your clit as he rolls the bud of your nipple, making sure you're stimulated everywhere all at once.
When you don't answer him, he slaps your tit. You yell, which soon turns into a long moan.
"Spike is so good you can't find the words, hm?" He taunts.
"F—Fuck, yes! Thundercracker!" You shriek, your toes curling into the sheets. You can feel your wetness slipping from your hole down between the valley of your ass, starting to pool onto the bed.
When he teases your nipple again, the stimulation overrides you. You gasp as you arch your back, your pussy fluttering around his absurd girth. The peak is quick, but not underwhelming by any means. It strikes through you, kissing every limb in a matter of seconds. It leaves you breathless and speechless as stars circle in your vision.
"That's all I needed," Thundercracker comments, infinitely more turned on by you finding your peak before he can. Even when he's on edge and wound up, you still find your pleasure first, and that strokes Thundercracker's pride in a way no one else can.
He shudders as an intense, drawn-out overload racks him. He spurts rope after rope of transfluid right into your pussy, slamming his hips until he's buried to the hilt. He's as deep as possible, and the bliss is just as it was promised to him. The gratification of finally achieving overload crosses his wires and fries his circuits, throwing his helm back in ecstasy as a low moan rumbles from him.
"Fuck yeah," he curses, "That was good."
He stays bottomed out inside even when the seemingly never-ending flow of transfluid ceases. He drops his helm back down, venting quickly to cool his frame. He watches the rise and fall of your chest before he collapses onto it.
You groan from the sudden weight of him, but it's not severe enough to stop you from breathing. Wrapping your arms around him, you sigh in the peaceful aftermath.
i know we’re only four chapters into by blade and steel but i’m already cooking up my next big fic (tfp megatron, it’ll be called welded souls) and it’s gonna be so smutty but also slow burn (fucking but denying any deeper emotions mmmmmm yum)
Hi friend, hope life has been treating you well. This not a request, more of a question really.
I have been thoroughly enjoying Blade and Steel, I love the world you are building and how you have characterised Optimus. I mean it when I say I am LOVING it.
I have so many questions; Is there more to Ronnins death than we are led to believe? Why is Optimus so secretive about why he left his planet? Does he still have the matrix? And why did he lie to reader about having Energon?
There are likely more questions I have but I can’t think of them right now. And I don’t expect an answer for any of these questions anytime soon. I love stories that have you asking more and more questions as things progress.
But I will ask just one:
Will we see any other Cybertronian characters in later chapters?
Again, hope you are doing well and take care pookie. 🥰🫶
hello my love!! i hope life is being kind to you as well <3
i'm so glad you're enjoying it!! i'm having a lot of fun writing it, especially the world building. i didn't get to do a lot of world building in across the divide so it's been a nice change for me!! >:)
OKAY! to answer your questions, i'm gonna put them under the cut. i'm not gonna give any spoilers but ANYWAY:
Is there more to Ronnin's death than we are led to believe?
yes. yes there is. but that's all you're getting out of me for now >:3
Why is Optimus so secretive about why he left his planet?
it's not so much that he's secretive. he explains in the chapter that came out yesterday that he simply didn't feel there was anything left for him on cybertron, and he moved on, giving the mantle to the new generation. there might be A LITTLE bit more behind his reasoning, but all of that will be revealed in due course.
Does he still have the matrix?
... perhaps
And why did he lie to reader about having Energon?
u will find out xoxo (if i tell you here, it will spoil the next two chapters)
Will we see any other Cybertronian characters in later chapters?
i'm gonna leave this design of megatron right here... and you can decide for yourself if it means any others will show up or not!
basically, i wouldn't ever write a plot point without having intention behind it. my mega chunky fics like this and across the divide are planned from chapter one to the final chapter before i start writing. i know it can be frustrating waiting for those plot points to be explained and/or expanded on, especially when a work in still in progress, but your patience is greatly appreciated, and you will have your answers soon enough!! :D
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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 ->
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
Hiiii I did a little study of your Oppy design because it's so cool!! I'm still trying to figure him out as I haven't drawn armor in years hehe. I hope this is okay!! 👉👈🥺
omg this got swallowed up in my inbox bc there was an influx of asks BUT WOWOWOWW omg he’s so BEAUTIFUL!! i love your art style, you’re genuinely so talented!! thank you so much for taking the time to draw this <3 you ATE !!
Not really a question, more of a comment- across the divide was so good I legit had to print it out to have a binder copy- the purification of the internet is terrifying and I was mortified over the idea that this would potentially get sniped :[
I’m not going to distribute it, obvi. This is just for me and my autistic ass because you wrote the characters SO DAMNED WELL that it’s influenced the way I write these characters, as well-
Thank you so much for making this, I adore it endlessly!!!!
i am literally SCREAMING this has gotta be the BIGGEST compliment i have ever received!! thank you SO MUCH RAHHH i’m so flattered what the HELL!! i don’t even know what to say rn FJSKJDKSJD. if u ever want to see any kind of spin off chapter for ATD you just LET ME KNOW and it will be done 🗣️‼️
literally kicking my legs and twirling my hair rn, i deadass can’t believe it. to think anyone would like my work enough to want a physical copy blows my MIND
Hello! I first started reading your fics on Ao3, and I am obsessed with how you write! The detail, the thought put into the plots, it's amazing! You seriously are such a talented writer, and you are giving me the motivation to start writing my own stories again. I have had horrible writer's block for the past few years, and after reading your stories, it's giving me the motivation to start up again.
I was wondering if you were going to do a part four to 'Danger: High Voltage?' I love how you write Optimus 🫣 I am so invested in seeing what happens next with Megatron as well. I am curious as to what Optimus will do when he finds out about what Megatron did, too.
Again, your writing is beautiful, and please take your time and give yourself breaks!
‧₊˚ tfp optimus x human fem reader x megatron 18+
• danger: high voltage — pt. 4 • 5.7k words
-> warnings/tags: minors dni. minor injury, hard sex, squirting, spit/oral lubricant (for megatron). oral, soft sex (for optimus).
HELLOOOO sailor. thank you so much for the kind words. i really appreciate it!! i do love writing so i’m glad ppl are here to read it. i would LOVE to read some of your stuff sometime!! pls send it my way!! writers block do be kicking all our asses fr 😩
<- previous
"What deal do you have with Megatron?" Ratchet asks.
Now is the time to ask. When no one is around, so he can speak his mind freely.
Optimus looks away from the monitor he's working on, landing his sights on his oldest friend who is staring back at him with a thoroughly knowing look.
"I thought Bulkhead had a screw loose when he mentioned it before," Ratchet continues upon Optimus' reluctance to reply. "When he hinted that the human had something to do with why the Decepticons have been unusally quiet."
Optimus listens without interruption, running possible excuses off in his processor. It isn't within his nature to lie, but Team Prime would never understand the nuance of this situation.
"But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Without a word, they vanished from the face of the Earth for months. All of sudden, they reappear without explanation. Since then, they leave for a week, then they're here for a week. Like clockwork. Without failure. It's stringent, too stringent to be passed off as a fluctuating work schedule. And don't get me started on the sounds we hear coming from your habsuite when they're here—"
Ratchet stops himself from the cringe. The idea of being so intimate with the native species of this planet has his chipsets sparking. You're all lovely, but interfacing is another matter.
"We know, is what I'm trying to say," he says. "We know that your relationship together isn't what it was when they were under our care before. I'm not judging you for that, take your pleasures, Primus knows you deserve them. But Optimus, I'm worried."
"There is no need for concern, old friend," Optimus speaks, trying to issue any ounce of reassurance he can without putting his ped in it.
"Then tell me what's going on with this whole thing!" Ratchet pesters, frustrated that he's being kept in the dark.
Optimus exvents, dropping his helm with a shallow shake as he contemplates his options. His digits flinch at his side as he can't help but imagine what you're up to right now.
Ratchet looks at him expectantly, the gnawing anxiety pitted in his frame telling him that his suspicions may very well be true.
"There's a truce," Optimus starts. "The Decepticon activity is low because Megatron and I have come to an agreement."
"Which is…?"
Well, it's not as if Ratchet isn't smart enough to have pieced it all together by now anyway. There's no point in denying it anymore.
"One week I have the human, the next, Megatron has them. We share them," Optimus tells with an uncomfortable look on his faceplates.
"For what purpose? How does one human prevent Megatron from wreaking havoc as he has done for many millennia?" Ratchet asks, truly confused.
"There are… Certain affections in place."
"So you're both interfacing with the human?"
"Yes," Optimus says awkwardly, dryly. He looks away again, too bashful to look at his medic.
"This is absurd, Optimus. A flimsy scheme at best. You know this won't hold for long, right? You realise that? Please tell me you realise that."
The Prime can't help but pull his derma into a taut line, shifting his gaze to the floor. Ever the optimist, he wants to believe that the truce will hold. It's either optimism or flat-out denial, but Optimus isn't sure he wants to know which it truly is.
"I think if you could see the way Megatron is with them, you would understand why I have faith," he mumbles quietly. Perhaps he isn't as confident in this plan as he first thought.
"But it's Megatron. His fancies change on a whim. He's unpredictable and volatile. How long will it take before he tires of this new toy and moves onto the next?"
That's a very good question.
• ꨄ︎ •
"Please Megatron," you whimper as you wrap your legs around his waist. "My pussy is so tired."
"And yet here you are wrapping your legs around me," he coos smugly as one servo trails over the length of your thigh. "You're too embarrassed to admit that you can't get enough of me."
Every day. Multiple times a day. Sometimes multiple rounds in a row. It's relentless how often he's fucked you over the last week. You've barely had time to sleep, all thanks to his ambitious goal of having you squirt. To prove that he is better than Optimus.
Right now, you're sitting on the desk in your room (which isn't really a room, but an open space in Megatron's habsuite), your pussy soaked from the glossa fucking you just received. Once again, he failed to make you orgasm to the heights he was seeking, but he won't give up so easily.
He grabs his spike, leading the weeping tip to your thoroughly used hole. Pressing in, he earns a fractured moan from you as the stretch stings. He slips every inch of his thick spike back into your welcoming cunt.
You stifle a grunt, your eyelids fluttering shut as you ball your hands into fists over the desk. Your muscles are fatigued from how much work he's been putting in with you, so at least he's been gracious enough to put you in a position where he has to put in most of the effort.
More of your moans are rendered muffled as Megatron draws his derma to your lips, connecting in a hot kiss as his thrusts start to pick up. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, cupping one hand on the back of his helm to keep him close. You're hanging onto him as he fucks you for what must be the fifteenth time this week.
His glossa traces over your bottom lip tentatively, and you're surprised that he's being so polite with his wants. You open your mouth for him, allowing his glossa to slip inside. He winds around your tongue, demanding the highest form of passion you can muster. You whimper into his mouth as you feel your lust overcoming you, fuelled by the sensation of his thick tip knocking against your G-spot.
The warlord's former statement about keeping you with him until he can manage to make you squirt holds weight. You're due to be returned to Optimus tomorrow, but at this rate, you don't think that's likely. You have tried to squirt for Megatron. You've thought about it, tried to focus on it, but it never happens. Regardless, you still reach mindbending orgasms, but it isn't enough to satisfy him.
One servo hooks under the bend of your knee, keeping you hoisted on his waist, as the other threads through the roots of your hair. You moan again, slipping your hand from the back of his helm to the nape of his neck. Your fingers brush over the cabling that lives there, taunting that particularly sensitive spot.
A mix of his oral lubricant and your saliva escapes from the corner of your mouth, running down your chin and continuing its path down your neck. His pace continues to be hard and fast, causing the legs of the desk to grate and rasp against the floor.
"Tell me how much you love it," Megatron breaks the kiss to say. The words bounce off your lips, your hazy eyes locked onto the damaged creases stretched over his derma. "I want to hear you say it."
"You know I love it," you reply breathlessly, squeezing your walls intentionally to make him falter.
He nearly growls as his grip on your hair tightens, but rather than wincing, you simply plaster a shit-eating grin on your lips. You squeeze again, tightening your legs around him to pull him impossibly closer.
"Little minx," he chides flirtatiously, upping his pace. "You know exactly what you're doing, don't you?"
"Yes Master," you hush back, pulling up for another kiss. He indulges you for only a moment before using his sharp dentae to nip at your bottom lip.
He slams his hips at a pace that has sweet cries tearing from your throat. His tip brutalises your walls as the desk beneath you threatens to break.
"Don't stop, Megatron!" You beg, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.
Using the grip on the roots of your hair, he pulls your head back so that you're looking straight up at him. He loves that pathetic, teary look on your face. Flushed expression, glassy eyes, pinched eyebrows. It does more for him than you know.
"Beg me for more," he gruffly demands.
"Please, Megatron! Master, please, please, please. I want it all, I want all of you. I want you to fuck me until I squirt everywhere and pass out."
Debauchery. That's what this is. Pure debauchery.
"You're good at that," Megatron titters with a sharkish grin. He brings his other servo up to your face, gripping your jaw to wrench your mouth open.
He spits into your mouth, which surprises you enough to jolt you. Your eyes shoot wide open as you gaze upon his smug look, licking his derma with his ridiculously long glossa.
Obeying his unspoken command, you swallow. His grin only widens at that, making sure to bully your pussy the best he can.
Choking on your euphoria, your vision blurs as you arch your back. You cry out as your orgasm pierces through you, your legs wrapping tighter.
A forceful, heavy stream of cum squirts from you to splatter all over Megatron's abdominal plates and interface panels.
Your partner nearly startles himself on a gasp as you shower him with your pleasure. He looks down between your bodies with awe.
"You did it," he mumbles before looking up at your teary-eyed expression. Your breath leaves you in labourous pants as your mind scuffles, trying to anchor yourself back to reality.
Before you can even think to reply, he splays one large servo over your clammy chest before pushing you down. Your back meets the cold surface of the desk, which is a small win in this moment.
He bends over your body, his sharp dentae immediately seeking out the column of your neck as he continues thrusting into your used pussy harder and faster than before. You whimper as he grates the sharp points over your neck, taunting you with the promise of being marked even further.
"N—Not my neck, Megatron," you mewl.
Surprisingly, he listens to you. But instead, he lowers down to your collarbones. You gasp for breath as he digs his dentae in, immediately breaking the skin. A shrill cry leaves you as blood is drawn from his assault, your back arching as though you're trying to escape him.
His servos grip your hips, digging his sharp talons into the flesh he finds there in some possessive tirade. This is how he claims you as his. He litters you with flesh wounds that heal into light scars, so that you can be reminded for all eternity who laid claim to you.
You suck a breath in through gritted teeth as more blood pearls along the surface of your skin, your brain already fractured from the intense orgasm earlier. It's hard to stay alert when he's like this. Animalistic. Brutal.
"Too hard, Megatron! It's too much!" You cry. You feel like he's going to fuck you to the brink of passing out.
How does anyone have so much energy? He's been going at it non-stop all week. He spends more time in your pussy than anywhere else, and you, for one, are utterly exhausted.
He licks away the blood smearing over your collarbone, but his pace doesn't ease.
Luckily, the brutality doesn't last for much longer. A deep, chesty groan rumbles from him before he slams his hips one last time, shooting his thick load straight into your sopping pussy.
He fills you to the brim, far too excited at the prospect of you finally squirting for him. You writhe beneath him at the warmth pooling inside of you, your hot skin leaving condensation over the cold desk surface.
"Take it all," he growls.
"I will, Master."
After a few moments where the only sound in the room is your needy pants, he pulls out. The ache of him leaving you is both blissful and painful.
Your abused, gaping pussy gloops with his transfluid, already leaving a river of it on the surface of the desk. You're too exhausted to say or do anything, so you lie still basking in the respite. You finally squirted for him, so hopefully, this mindless and constant fucking will cease.
"I enjoy seeing you like this," Megatron says coyly as he ghosts his servos down the length of your thighs. "Completely at my mercy, ready to collapse from a rough interface session."
"I know, Megatron," you lethargically reply.
His sharp digits gently caress your cheekbone as he admires your fucked out expression.
"Optimus will be expecting us soon," he hushes lightly. There's no disdain, unlike times before. He's achieved what he wanted, so he's content to release you back to the surface of the Earth to be reunited with his rival.
You turn your head to kiss his palm, looking up at him through the corner of your eyes.
"I'll miss you," you utter.
"You could stay," Megatron responds with a grin.
As tempting as that sounds, you're looking forward to seeing Optimus and getting some recovery time. Something still simmers in the air between you and the warlord, a silent truth that your feelings towards Optimus are stronger than towards him. You've denied it, but the truth is plain to anyone with eyes.
"I could," you say, "But I like it more when the two of you don't fight. It saves my planet from destruction."
"How noble of you," Megatron sneers, dragging his servo to trace the fresh wounds on your collarbone. You wince from how sore it feels, squirming a little.
The bite marks between your legs that you received earlier today throb as you try to focus on anything but the dull pain of all the bites and scratches he's adorned you with.
• ꨄ︎ •
Finally back with Optimus, you decided you weren't in the mood for pleasantries with the others. You requested to immediately be brought back to the habsuite for some peace and quiet.
Optimus, though reluctant, agreed. It isn't like you to be so standoffish with the others like that, but he decided it would be best to take you somewhere you were comfortable, and then ask questions.
"You look… So tired," Optimus expresses his concern, looking down at you as you both stand in the habsuite.
"Thanks," you reply lethargically.
"I did not intend for that to come across negatively," he defends quickly. "Was your time with Megatron… Eventful?"
"You could say that," you answer.
His frown deepens at that.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" He asks, his intentions pure and meaningful. Since the truce, he's been able to explore other things on this planet as well as actually enjoy some free time. If you need anything, he has the time for it.
"Maybe just some cuddles," you say. They've been lacking as of late. Megatron's obsessive goal of having you squirt, and mostly failing, has left him so frustrated that he's hardly even kissed you outside of the incessant fucking.
"Of course," he replies.
He scoops you up off the floor gently, elevating you to place you on the berth. He sits comfortably in front of you before mass displacing, bringing him to a smaller height for an optimal cuddle size.
He shuffles back until his back is against the wall, then opens his arms to you. Feeling welcomed, you smile warmly before walking over to him. You mount his lap, one knee on either side of his hips. He wraps his arms around you, embracing you kindly.
You reach down by his side to grab a small square-shaped pillow. Placing it on the top ledge of his chassis window, you proceed to settle into the shape of him before resting your head on the pillow.
His spark whirs with warmth as you melt into the comfort. He dreads to think what Megatron had you doing over the past week to have you in this state.
Running his servos softly over your back, he hopes to comfort you further. He pairs it with a couple of short, delicate kisses to the top of your head, nuzzling your hair for his own enjoyment.
"The others have become suspicious," Optimus says lightly to stir the silence.
"Of what?" You reply.
"Of everything. Us, your schedule, the reluctance to answer anything."
"You aren't a particularly good liar," you say with a small smile.
"I take that as a compliment," he answers before kissing the top of your head again.
"What did you tell them?"
"Only Ratchet, and I know he won't tell the others. But I told him the truth. It's hard to lie to someone who has known me for as long as he has."
"I take it he wasn't very happy," you mumble.
"Never mind that," he hums.
The Prime slips his servos under your top to explore you properly, massaging the curves of your waist, but quickly halts when he feels a texture change on your skin. He hums, feeling the lines carefully to understand what it is.
You whimper lightly as you shift on his lap, ghosting your hands down to his to stop him.
"What happened?" Optimus asks cautiously. You pull back, sitting straight on his lap to look him in the optics.
"Megatron," you say just below a whisper.
"Can you… Tell me about it?" He asks lowly, the words falling lightly on your ears.
"Do you really want to know?" You retort.
"Of course I do," Optimus insists.
"It probably sounds worse than it is," you preface, but your eyes fall to his chassis windows so that you don't have to look at him. "He hooked me up to a cortic patch, and it gave him front row tickets to the things you and I got up to. It probably won't come as a shock that he became jealous, and well, it took off from there."
"So he did this to you on purpose?" Optimus pries.
"Not— Not quite. It was a byproduct of how rough he was being with me when we… Yeah."
Optimus doesn't need to know that you were perpetually dragged back into Megatron's berth to the point where your pussy ached. That's too much detail, and Optimus is a smart mech anyway. He can make sense of it without you spelling it out.
"How could he think to hurt you?" Optimus asks into the ether, a question not intended to be answered.
You draw in for a soft kiss, needing to feel his derma on your lips. The kiss is featherlight, so gentle it could bring you to tears. What an honour to bring such a big, strong mech to the brink of peace with your touch alone.
You stifle a whimper as you roll your hips, feeling the heat pool between your legs. With each movement, you get a bit bolder, grinding down onto his interface panels.
"Your body needs rest," Optimus says between kisses, holding onto your hips. He knows what Megatron would have put you through.
"Don't you want to?" You ask, a little disappointed.
"That's not what I said," the Prime answers.
"Can we, please?" You ask into the kiss. You know he's likely hesitant after seeing your minor injuries, and you know there's an element of guilt at play that he willingly hands you over to Megatron every week.
"Are you sure you want to?" He asks, adamant about your explicit consent before taking this anywhere.
"I always do with you," you answer.
"As long as you take it easy," he compromises.
He kisses you harder, holding firmer onto the back of your head as he shifts his weight forward to start leaning you back, the pillow on his chassis tumbling to the berth. You moan against his derma before wrapping your fingers over his chassis window, prompting him to stop moving.
With one servo on your head and the other wrapped around your back, he's practically cradling you as he displays his love for you through kisses. You know what he wants by trying to shift the positions.
"You always eat me out. Please let me return the favour," you ask sweetly.
"But I enjoy it," Optimus reasons with you.
"And I thoroughly enjoyed the one time you let me suck you off," you whimper in return, "Do you not like it?"
"I do," he admits, carding his digits through your hair to cup the back of your head. "But servicing you brings about another level of satisfaction for me."
You hear a subtle hissing sound coming from below. You break the kiss completely to peer down, seeing Optimus' interface panels disengaging.
"But since you asked so nicely, you can do with me as you please."
You have to stop yourself from salivating at the sight of his thick, multicoloured spike. You reach down between your bodies, wrapping your hand around it before giving a few experimental tosses.
Optimus' digits toy at the hem of your top, telling you loud and clear what he wants. You let go of his spike to take your top off, throwing it behind you before moving onto your bra, which follows the same path as your top.
The Prime almost coos at the sight of your tits, unable to help himself from taking a handful with both servos. You sigh a light moan as you grab his spike again, jerking the sensitive metal to work him up.
He kneads your breasts, but you pull away from him too soon for him to fully enjoy himself. You lower yourself, bringing your mouth to his tip.
You lick the tip, lapping up the small amount of prefluid built there. One servo returns to the roots of your hair, stabilising himself and prompting you.
Deciding you're no longer willing to wait, you open wide to welcome him. You latch over his tip, swirling your tongue around before gradually working more of his spike in.
You take most of him into your mouth, his length sliding down your throat to make sure you remember the shape of him. Your plump lips wrap around him, conforming to the ridges as you suck.
Megatron has trained you tirelessly in sucking spike. It's more often than not that you're on your knees rather than him on his. This much Optimus has to be grateful for.
You bob your head up and down, causing a flurry of wet gagging noises to erupt from you. Optimus exvents a low moan as he looks down at you, watching his spike disappear into your warm mouth.
He tastes so delicious, you don't think you'll ever be able to get enough. You moan over the metal, fresh tears springing along your waterline.
"Hmmph— That feels good," he vents, his optics dropping half-lidded.
His praise only fuels you, eggs you on in a reaching hope that he'll dish out some more. You use your tongue in tandem with your sucking, making sure every inch of him is stimulated. Your throat opens up so nicely for him, more than happy to accommodate his impressive size.
There's no doubt that there's no place he'd rather be than tucked between your thighs, enjoying his meal as many times as you'll let him, but this is divine. He's always been more of a giver than a taker, but when you suck him like this, he could be persuaded.
When he starts pushing your head further down, it's mindless. He isn't meaning to, but he's selfishly chasing more. You moan again, feeling your pussy throb with new excitement. You certainly don't mind being used by the Prime.
He forces your mouth to move on him exactly as he determines, exactly what works best for him. The noises spilling from you are obscene, but they're music to Optimus' audials.
You're growing wetter by the second, the seat of your underwear now sticking to your heat as you allow him to fuck your mouth to his spark's content.
"You have a talent," he murmurs thoughtlessly. He wonders where you learnt to service spikes so well, but then, he decides he doesn't want to know.
Saliva escapes from the corners of your mouth to run down what little length of his spike you can't swallow, pooling on his interface panels.
He can't wait to fuck you after this. To have your pretty pussy squeezing his spike until his optics offline. You make him feel better than anyone who came before you, and he detests that he must share with Megatron.
"Get ready," he warns, and it's all he gives you before he overloads.
Warm, heavy fluid shoots right down your throat, forcing you to drink every drop. You gulp it happily, pulling off his spike for air as soon as you can. The faint tingle of his transfluid bubbles over your tongue and at the back of your throat, producing more tears in your eyes.
You blink them away before sitting up properly, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your shorts and underwear at the same time to push them off you. You plop them next to you before excitedly crawling back onto Optimus' lap for the main event.
He rumbles disappointedly as he takes in the wounds littering your collarbones, his audial ridges pinching in concern. He must've missed them when you took your top off earlier.
Suddenly, you start to feel semi-insecure over the appearance of them, shying away from him and splaying one hand over them. His optics snap up from your chest to your eyes, shooting a sympathetic look your way.
"I'm sorry, my love," he mutters, "I didn't mean to make you nervous."
He places a reassuring servo on your arm, running his thumb back and forth.
"Come here," he requests, urging you further onto his lap. You comply, moving closer to him and lifting your hips to put his spike in between your legs.
"That's it," Optimus encourages, looking up at you as your wet pussy shifts over the tip of his spike. "Whenever you're ready."
Lowering your weight, you let his tip slip inside your waiting core. You moan at the stretch, sliding down his length until you're seated on his lap.
"You're doing so well," Optimus praises you, placing his servos on your hips the moment you start riding him. You're steady at first, giving your aching muscles a warm-up for another round.
"Is this okay?" Optimus asks as he strokes your hips with his thumbs. You hum your approval, rolling your hips slowly over his spike. Megatron has tired you out, but you want this right now.
"Optimus," you moan, bringing one hand to cup the back of his helm as the other rests on his shoulder. The space between your lips is filled with your pants and moans.
"You'll tell me if it gets too much?" He hushes. He wants this, truly, he does. But he can only imagine what Megatron got up to with you over the last week, the marks and fatigue wracking your body are evidence of it.
"I promise," you moan lowly.
Another round with Megatron would probably prove to be too much. But with Optimus? You'll never tire of it. You're imbued with a new vigour as soon as you set your eyes on him.
He cares. He's soft. He's gentle. He's everything Megatron isn't. You have endless energy for it and him, because he allows you to go at your own pace. He gives, whereas Megatron takes.
Breathy moans tumble from your lips as you place your forehead against his helm fin. His gentle servos smooth over the curve of your ass, before one slips up to the small of your back. No sharp talons, no deadly dentae.
Optimus' optics flicker, his processor being drawn to the highs of his ardour. You always feel so good, but he adores it when you ride him. It does something particularly sinful to him. Each glide of your pussy over his hard spike ruins him further, his spark whirring rapidly in his chassis.
"Mmph, fuck— Optimus," you whine.
"I love you."
The confession doesn't fall from your lips, but his. You stifle a gasp as your shock causes you to stop riding him. His dreamy expression hardens a fraction as he's torn from the haze of the moment, focusing his optics on you properly.
The weight of his confession dawns on him almost immediately. You notice a flicker of worry spark in his endless optics, fearing the worst.
"I— I apologise," he says quietly, flinching to pull his servos off your hips.
You immediately stop him, laying your hands over them to keep them placed on you.
"Why apologise?" You ask.
"I… It was inappropriate," he remarks, somewhat regretfully.
Taking your hands off his, you snake them round his shoulders to cup the nape of his neck.
"Did you mean it?" You question, drawing your lips closer to his derma as you eagerly await his reply. A few moments pass where nothing is said, the weight of the silence inflating your lungs with anticipation.
"I did."
You whimper at that, closing the gap between you to kiss him. He returns your passion in kind, humming lowly as you resume riding his lap.
"I love you," you confess, "I love you so much."
He moans into your mouth as he grips your hips tighter, fuelling your bounces by helping you move. The two of you kiss as though it's the last thing you'll ever do.
"I wanted— to tell you— in a better way— than this," Optimus speaks through breaks of the kiss. You mewl as you claim him for more, slipping your tongue into his intake to deepen the kiss.
He's helpless but to comply, dancing with you in any way you like. You breathe your lust into him, conveying your love with every move.
"Just keep saying it," you plead as you part for air.
"I love you," he burrs again, "I love every part of you."
"Please don't stop," you breathily implore.
"I've loved you for such a long time. Before you were taken from me. Before I knew the truth of your fate."
Right. It's been so long that you almost forgot that Megatron kidnapped you with the intent of using you as a hostage, only to realise that he enjoyed you far too much and decided to keep you for himself, leading everyone to believe that you'd died.
"Holy fuck, Optimus!" You moan, throwing your head back as you feel the rapid climb to your peak seizing you. He gazes up at you as if you are the most beautiful creature he's ever laid eyes on, his processor and spark entirely dedicated to you in this moment.
"Cum for me. Please, cum," he begs you, sliding his servo up from the small of your back to the middle of your shoulder blades.
Aiding your journey to release, he lowers his helm to latch onto one of your nipples. You shudder a moan as he suckles on it, stimulating the sensitive flesh.
You arch your back, pressing your chest further into his face. He hums against you, sending little vibrations through your body. You gasp another moan as you feel your legs beginning to tremble.
With a pathetic whimper, you find your bliss. A hot flush courses through you as your lower half contracts, your pussy cinching around Optimus' girth. You milk him, eager for his transfluid dumped inside of you.
"Well done," Optimus praises after releasing your nipple. "That was so good, you did so well for me."
You continue bouncing on him, slickening his thick spike further with your release.
He knows you're tired, he can feel it simmering under your skin. You don't need to squirt every time with Optimus, he already knows where his talents are. You're motivated to fuck him like a turbofox in heat, but your exhaustion cannot be denied.
"Please fill me, Optimus," you mewl eagerly.
"I'm close," he huffs.
He moans heartily as he reaches his climax, squeezing your ass with both servos as he fills you just as promised.
You whine whilst slowing down on top of him, eventually coming to a stop and sitting with his spike lodged inside. You catch your breath, trying to ignore the burning muscles in your legs. It was worth it, no doubt.
"Are you okay?" He asks softly.
"Mmhm."
"Would you like to go back to cuddling?"
"Yes please."
He supports your back as he shifts down the berth, reclining to lie down flat. You reach over to grab the discarded pillow from earlier, plopping it on his chassis again so that you don't wind up with a horrific neck ache.
You sigh contentedly as you return to embracing him, glad to be with him in this moment.
"This week is going to go so fast," you bemoan. You're missing Optimus already even though you still have a full week left.
"He can't have you back," Optimus says as he lightly drags the tips of his digits up and down your back to soothe you. "I won't be able to live with myself if you set foot on the Nemesis again."
"What about the truce? It's going well," you answer with an air of sleep.
"I'm not concerned about the truce anymore. My concern lies with you. Unless, of course, it's your wish to return."
You roll your head on his chassis to look up at him. Gazing into those swirling optics, seeing the truth in them. He doesn't want you to go back. He wants you to stay with him. To choose him. Though he would not protest if you decided to return to Megatron, as freedom is your right, he would not enjoy it.
"My wish is to be with you, Optimus. I meant it when I said I love you. It might be selfish, as I know it would call off the truce, but I can't deny what I want."
"Then you can stay with me. Let me deal with Megatron." He smiles softly down towards you, a rare sight indeed.
i truly love writing this story but it takes SO LONG for me to pump out the chapters. if u wanna see more pls lmk but it can take me a hot minute to write!!
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