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
heat signature - 18+, one shot.
needs.exe - 18+, one shot.
drabble - sfw
drabble - sfw
titan love - 18+, one shot.
drabble/ficlet - 18+
danger: high voltage - 18+, multichapter, inc. megatron
burning steel - 18+, multi-chapter.
synth-chromatic - 18+, one shot.
drabble - 18+
valentines - sfw
drabble - sfw
dusted pink - 18+
balanced - 18+ (ish)
chiffon thrills - 18+
࣪ ִֶָ☾. 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
₊˚. skyfire
nebula - sfw
✠ dreadwing
drabble - 18+
drabble - 18+
drabble - 18+
⋆୨୧˚ thundercracker
drabble/ficlet - 18+
drabble/ficlet - 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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Just wanted to check, how is that knight au with Optimus going 👀👀👀
IT'S COMING. IT IS. I SWEAR. the skeleton is basically finished now so i have a structure for it. i just need to start WRITING IT. i'm hoping once life is fine and normal again i can get to it!! i'm thinking (but not trying to pressure myself) to get it out in july, but i will ANNOUNCE when i have it in the baggggg >:))
(u optimus fuckers (me included) will have some optimus smut tonight tho <3)
Life can get overwhelming sometimes, and the fact that you're still trying your best even when things are difficult says a lot about how much you care about your readers. Your health, your happiness, and your well-being will always matter more than any update schedule or fic upload.
I know a lot of us found comfort, joy, and excitement through your writing, but that's because there is a real person behind those stories. A person who deserves the same kindness and patience they give to everyone else. If writing one fic a week feels like too much right now, it's okay to slow down. It's okay to rest. The people who genuinely appreciate your work aren't just here for the content; they're here because they appreciate you.
Please give yourself the same grace and understanding that you'd probably give to someone else in your position. You don't have to earn rest, and you don't have to push yourself beyond your limits just to keep people happy. Your stories will still be there when you're ready, and so will your readers.
For now, focus on getting through whatever you're dealing with, one day at a time. I hope life becomes a little gentler with you soon. Thank you for everything you've already shared with us, and thank you for continuing to try even when things are hard. We're rooting for you, and we'll be here whenever you're ready to come back. Take care of yourself first, you deserve that more than you know. ❤️
you are so, so kind!! thank you so much for being so caring <3 this is truly very sweet of you. i'm trying not to be too harsh on myself. i genuinely do enjoy writing though, and it's very cathartic for me (yes, even when i'm writing sinful things). i'm missing it like CRAZY right now, but hopefully life will get back on track soon!!<3
kinda going thru it atm guys i’m so sorry for not being super active </3 hoping life will be back on track soon and i’ll be writing more often ASAP!! trying to post at least one fic a week but even that is a stretch for me rn so i rly appreciate everyone being so patient <3
The people need to see the warlord whimper for reader!
₊˚ ✧ tfp megatron x human fem reader 18+
-> warnings/tags: minors dni. dom!reader, oral. not thoroughly beta read. 3k words
thank you so much for the patience on this one, i know it took me a hot minute to get round to it <3 i hope you enjoy!!
Life can sometimes be tedious for a human on board the Nemesis. No day is like the other, but you're rarely permitted to partake in any kind of activity. Megatron protects you to an almost obsessive degree, not allowing even the slightest hint of danger to come your way.
Thus, you're often left to your own devices in the perimeter of your shared habsuite. Megatron does what he does, which you understand to be something morally reprehensible and possibly a significant danger to your home planet, but often, you find yourself looking the other way. It isn't your business.
That doesn't mean that you like to stay put all of the time. One can only stalk around the same four walls so many times before you start to go a little stir crazy. Megatron has increased your luxuries in here in hopes that you'll never tire of it, but you still want more. You've become greedy like that. You have an arcade, a gaming station, and an activity area with trampolines and such. But that stuff can be boring when you're alone. It's only really fun when Megatron is here with you.
Speaking of, he hasn't been back to see you in what feels like hours. Maybe even close to all day. It's hard to tell the passage of time in here, so you're left hazarding guesses based on your body clock.
So, you're currently standing before a full-length mirror next to your bed. You're clad in the skimpiest excuse for lingerie that a human could fathom. Purple lace and string are just barely keeping you decent. You play around with the elastic around your hips, making sure it sits just right, before you put your plan in action.
Content with the way you're put together, you reach for the device on your bedside table. It could be considered a phone, but the only person you can contact with it is Megatron. So, most of the time it's just a paperweight.
You pull up the camera function, posing in the mirror before snapping a few quick pics. You decide not to dawdle on it, out of fear that you might back out if you think about it any longer. The thrill of doing something like this sharpens your senses like a whetstone on steel, you just can't seem to resist.
Swiping up on the pictures, you send them straight to Megatron's processor. Exactly where all communications from you go. You think he's probably in a meeting with his high command right now, which means that your little gift might be a welcome surprise to motivate him through the rest of it.
You put the device back down, and wait for the cogs of your plan to start turning. You grab a sheer purple robe from your bed, threading your arms through it and leaving the front untied. Who knows how long Megatron might take to respond? He's a busy mech, after all.
On the other side of the Nemesis in the bridge, the images flash up in Megatron's processor. The orders he was barking to his vehicons are strikingly interrupted, turning into mumbles and jumbled words as his optics flicker with light.
It's certainly a feat to catch the Mighty Megatron so off guard.
━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
Playing with one of the arcade claw machines, you push and pull the lever in attempts to grab the plushie that you're after. The uses are unlimited, and without cost, so you can do this for as long as it takes.
Just as the claw goes down to grab on, the habsuite doors hiss open. You hear the unmistakable booming steps of your gargantuan lover, his keen optics already scanning the room for you.
There he spots you, in the row of arcade machines along the right-hand side of the room. He nearly growls, causing you to shift your focus from the machine over to him. You turn on your heels, looking up at him with a sheepish smile. You're still there in only lingerie and the robe that leaves nothing to the imagination.
He moves over to the machines, shifting down in size at an alarming pace. He's got an expression on his features that you can't quite read, and that feels dangerous. Exhilarating, but dangerous. You chuckle nervously as you start to shuffle back through the row of arcade machines, trying to put space between you.
It doesn't take him long to be at a suitable mass-displaced height, and he doesn't hesitate to start stalking you through the single alley. He looks at you with fire and lust, like an animal honing in on its prey. Your breath starts to pick up as you continue to move back, almost without meaning to.
"Megatron," you announce his name softly.
"You know what you did," he responds, closing the gap between you quicker than you can extend it.
"Are you angry?" You reply, truly not sure.
That's when your back hits against the wall. You're backed into a corner, and with large machines on either side of you, there's no place left to go.
He draws in, standing mere inches away from you. He looks down at you, engulfing you in his wide shadow.
"Far from it," he replies, trailing his servos up to grab the slopes of your robe. He pulls the material, pushing it over your shoulders. You let it go without protest, allowing it to fall to the floor in a light puddle.
"You distracted me in front of my troops," he hushes, hooking his talons under the straps of your bralette. He lets the material run through his touch as he moves down to the cup without actually removing anything. "You made me fumble my words."
"Then I suppose I got a good reaction out of you," you reply, your tone more confident now.
"Will you make good on your senseless teasing?" He says with a quirk of his optical ridge.
With strength befitting of a mech of his stature, he tears your bralette in one action. The scraps of material fall off you, which proves to send a bolt of excitement through you.
He maintains eye contact even as he dips slightly to grab the flimsy material of your underwear, tearing that clean off you as well. You don't flinch or gasp, you simply enjoy what he's doing.
"You should get on your knees," you hush to him.
"You would like that, wouldn't you? For me to bow to you?" He retorts, nipping your bottom lip ever so lightly.
"Am I not deserving?" You ask quietly, "Am I not the one who always has you crawling into the berth for more of my pussy? Have you ever been like that for anyone else?"
He practically purrs at your filthy words before landing his derma on your lips again. He takes exactly what he wants at a suffocating rate, but you manage to keep up.
Like gravity demanded him, he drops to his knees, breaking apart the kiss. You sigh as you peer down, seeing his ruby eyes looking up at you.
"Is this what you were thinking?" He asks, kissing against your pubic mound to tease you whilst maintaining eye contact.
"Nearly, all that's missing is a little more of your glossa doing what it does best," you reply sultrily.
His long, snake-like glossa rolls out of his intake, already dripping with lust. The length of it slides through your folds and teases your clit as if it has a mind of its own.
You moan, placing both hands on his helm for stability. He starts to play a tune on your body that he knows will make you cave in no time.
"Oh, baby, just like that," you moan with a whine.
His glossa is an invention of pure genius. It winds and slides with utter ease, and doesn't have any issues in stimulating every corner of your twitching pussy. It's such a treat whenever he goes down on you.
One large servo wraps around your thigh, hiking your leg up to hook it over his shoulder. You moan airily at the new position, curling your toes behind his back struts. It gives him easier access to you, and right now, he's exactly where he wants to be.
You can't look away from him. You're obsessed with the sight of him on his knees before you, servicing you exactly how you need. This is what you've fantasised about for so many nights.
Your back arches against the wall as he swirls his glossa around your clit. He laps at you with eagerness, desperate to get you to your peak. Your taste is one of the finest things in the universe to him, he can't get enough. He drinks from you, sating himself in the storm until he's full.
Right now, you're calling the shots. You led him here with those indecent pictures, and now he's following your every whim. He's moaning into your cunt, sending vibrations through you that manifest as pitchy whines from your lips. You want him to keep going until you're on the brink of exhaustion, until you can't feel your legs.
His talons clench onto the meat of your thighs harder, trying to anchor himself to reality as he feels his senses being lost to clouds of lust. You pull him deeper into your pussy with your hands, needing more of him. You start to grind your hips against his faceplates, smearing your essence all over his intake as his glossa sloppily keeps up.
Up, down, round and round. His movements are relentless, he won't leave you guessing for a single moment. You are the only meal that could ever hope to satisfy his hunger. Thank God he doesn't need to breathe, it means that he can indulge himself in you as much as necessary.
You're so worked up that you're not sure how much longer you'll last. Usually, you like to bask in it when Megatron goes down on you. But everything leading up to this was so thrilling that you're already teetering on a high. You're gasping, little moans and mewls, tightening your hands on his helm until your fingers go pale.
He knows it won't take much longer. Your tells are glaringly obvious to him, and it only motivates him to work harder. He punishes every one of those sweet, sensitive spots of yours. Every sound uttered from your lips is for Megatron's audials only, and he's drowning in them.
"Close! I'm so close!" You moan out as your legs start to quake. Megatron's strong servos keep you steady, steadfast on his mission.
Your body feeds on lightning as your end unravels in your core. The cliff's edge is a feast for your nerves, your veins dining on adrenaline as you cum all over his beautiful face. The rush continues to climb through your spine like a shot of fire, leaving you almost drunk on the velocity.
Sliding your leg off his shoulder, you huff a few short breaths as he begrudgingly parts from your needy pussy.
"Lay down," you demand hastily, placing your hands on his shoulders to urge him back.
"On the floor?" He asks with a glint in his smile.
"I can't wait another second," you answer. Surprisingly, he follows your request and reclines back onto the floor. You quickly straddle him, slotting your knees on either side of his hips to hover your dripping pussy over his throbbing spike.
"Come take a seat on your throne," he suggests with a playful grin.
You shoot him a grin of your own, grabbing the base of his spike to hold him steady before you lower yourself onto him. You moan at the stretch, at the way he glides effortlessly into you. You were made for him, and your body is proof of that. The two of you fit together like lock and key.
Wasting no time, you start to move. You ride him with a strong roll of your hips, earning a satisfied grunt from the beast beneath you. His servos find your hips, grabbing onto them. The curves your hips fit perfectly into his servos.
You bounce on it like it's the last thing you'll ever do. You're selfishly chasing your pleasure, using him as your personal sex toy. His enormous servos grip your hips harder as his vents get more staticky.
To Megatron, you are a temptress sent to him to distract him from his mission. He hates to admit it, but you do a fantastic job of it. There's never been a time when he's been able to resist you.
You're almost halted with surprise when you hear him groan, followed by a familiar warmth spilling inside of you. You look down at him with shock, slowing your pace a little. You didn't expect him to finish so fast, that isn't like him.
"Mmph, fuck," he grunts with heavy vents. "Don't stop. Keep riding me."
"Can't get enough?" You giggle with a light roll of your hips. His premature release stirred something up inside of you, and you like it.
"Do it," he nips.
"Say please," you taunt.
He growls beneath you, not one to take a bruise to his pride so easily. He grasps your hips tighter, enough to almost make you wince, but you hold out.
"Stop teasing me," he grumbles.
"Na-uh," you stand your ground, "I wanna hear you say it."
You squeeze your pussy on him, trying to teeter him on the edge. You do it in waves and pulses, making his optics flicker. You will get what you want.
"Please," he whimpers desperately.
You have to stifle the shocked gasp your body almost made. Whimpering? From Megatron? The mighty leader of the Decepticons?
"Oh," you sigh before you start to move again. "More of that, please."
He groans, pinching his optical ridges into a frown as your movements up their tempo. He lets out a vented moan, feeling his leg struts fizzle with pulsing electricity. He's so sensitive right after an orgasm, but he'd be damned if he tells you to stop.
There doesn't seem to be an ounce of embarrassment from Megatron regarding his whimper, which proves to you that you could make him to do it again. Maybe it was a slip of the glossa, but it had your clit throbbing with excitement. You're even more motivated and eager now.
"Make that sound for me again," you plead with a whine. You never thought dominance would feel so exhilarating, but when you have one of the most powerful entities in the universe preening beneath you, it gives a different kind of thrill.
He's too lost in your pussy for any pride to take the forefront of his processor. He lets go, and with it, comes another whimper. Right now, you can lead him anywhere, and he'll happily follow.
"That made you wetter," he hushes as his helm tips back. The pleasure engulfs him in his entirety.
"Because it's so hot when you do that," you answer.
His previous overload is already spilling out of you as you move. It's making a mess of your pussy, his spike, and his panels. The high fizzles through you like uncorked champagne. It's wet, hot sex that might go on all night if you two don't rein it in. Sometimes the two of you can get so high on pleasure that you go at it for hours on end without even realising. You're grateful to have a lover who has the level of stamina he does.
His optics refocus, drawing over to your body. A film of sweat is already forming, making you almost glisten in the low light of the room. Your chest rises and falls as you try to keep your breathing steady. But his favourite sight is definitely your tits bouncing in time with your movements. His optics lock onto them, imaging how much he'd love to suckle on your pert nipples right now.
"You like what you see?" You hum, ghosting your hands down to rest over his, which are still gripped around your waist.
"Yeah," he replies airily. He's never felt this swept away by an encounter with you before. With anyone, to be specific. Your body does something intoxicating to him. "You have no idea what you do to me."
"Fuck," you curse in response, "You make so horny, Megatron."
"Please cum," he whimpers once again. When it rains, it pours. He'll never hear the end of this after tonight, something you assume will not best please him. You're chasing his whimpers like wolves chase scent, tugging at his leash whenever you feel it may be near.
"How about you overload in me again and I'll do it? I wanna be full of your transfluid, Megatron. Wanna be practically bursting at the seams with it," you admit hotly.
"That's all I needed," he groans, fuelled infinitely more by your seductive words.
Upon your command of it, he finds his second overload of the night. He spurts hot, thick fluid straight into your cunt to mingle with the remnants of his previous load. He stutters a vent as his hips buck up into you, riding his high for as long as Primus will permit it.
"Holy fuck, Megatron," you moan. You're loving this new side to him. You never took him to be the type that would behave this way, but you certainly aren't complaining. Your bones are itching for that edge that you're so familiar with, leaning towards the chaos like flowers towards the sun.
As his reward, you hurtle off the same edge of euphoria. You choke on a moan as your hips refuse to stay still, your pussy tightening around him in an attempt to milk anything he has left. You sing with wildfire as your synapses flare, living on the sparks of this encounter. Megatron groans, finding a last bit of pleasure in how your pussy grips him.
Maybe you'll have to send him risky stuff more often.
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should actually have a full fic up tmrw btw <3 but here’s a lil smth for now!
Strong servos are planted on the back of your thighs, pushing your legs up so that he has an unobstructed path to eating you out.
His glossa laps at your sappy pussy with a ravenous hunger. It’s bordering on embarrassing how sloppy and loud he’s being; moaning into you, slurping on your juices. Even the most salacious would blush.
“God, that glossa of yours is divine,” you moan mindlessly.
He hums into the meat of your pussy, far too gone to give any real thought to a response. You whimper as you try to grind your hips up into his intake, greedy for even more.
Every stroke of his thick glossa has your head spinning and leaves you breathless. There are worse ways to start your morning, that’s for sure.
‘Megatron, where are you? You’re late!’
Ultra Magnus pings in his comms. It momentarily pulls Megatron out of the fantasy.
He parts with your pussy for just a moment to send a reply, but the first millisecond of his invent, your hands fly to his helm to pull him back down into your pussy. He makes a startled noise, which carries over on the comms.
‘Megatron?!’
“Don’t you dare answer him,” you moan as his glossa gets back to work. “You need to finish what you started.”
‘S—ohf—rry, busy.’
That’s the only answer Magnus gets before Megatron disables his comms entirely. Albeit muffled by your hot cunt.
do you have a specific playlist you listen to while you're writing fics?
hmm, no not particularly!! when i’m writing bigger fics (like across the divide) i have a playlist, but other than that, i don’t!! i just find tiktok edit audios that slap and listen to them on repeat jfksjfdk
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Could you please do something about how Optimus prime LOVES to see you in his colors and gets riled up whenever he see you in them? Could be fluff or nswf, idc I need to read this
ৎ୭ optimus prime x human fem reader 18+
-> warnings/tags: minors dni. clothed sex, public sex, no foreplay, praise/good girl mention. not thoroughly beta read. 2.5k words
hello little gay ppl in my phone, i am back from the dead. i definitely needed a few weeks away from writing, so i rly appreciate how patient y’all have been <3 i hope you enjoy this!!
Warm air encapsulates you as you run your hand over the stone bridge. The sun is low, nearly fully set, and the wind is benign. A gentle river courses beneath the bridge, stretching out far before you.
The chiffon material of your loose dress flows elegantly as you walk, your heels clicking against the cobblestone beneath you. It's a beautifully crafted dress you're currently wearing. It has a halter neck and a floor-length, a-line skirt. It ombres from red to blue, a very intentional choice. You've paired it with silver bracelets, earrings, and arm cuffs to pull the look together.
Crossing the bridge, you walk over to a white, floral-design gazebo, which has vines and flora winding through the intricate design. You find respite from the warm sun in the shade, stepping towards the front of the gazebo. Your path is stopped by the same stone wall that's connected to the bridge, keeping any pedestrians safe from the river before you.
You rest your forearms against the wall, leaning forward to watch how the water ripples and flows with the current. It glistens with ribbons of orange and gold, carrying the secrets of the world into its ocean.
Optimus and you are currently stationed here. For how long is anyone's guess. It's an organic planet, which makes it easier for you, but more difficult for your lover.
You see his form approach over the treeline. He's hard to miss, especially at such a size. You're in love with a titan, often too big for any world you find yourselves on.
The tree branches rustle as he pushes them aside to move through them, verging on the bank that drops off into the river. You smile at him as his optics fall onto you, most of his face covered by his mask.
He enters the river, disturbing the peaceful current. The water only comes up to about his mid-calf, and it sloshes as he starts to wade through to reach you. You watch him approach, standing from your relaxed stance to stand upright.
The warm sun reflects off his polished frame so beautifully, as though he's been kissed by the angels. He seems relaxed, like he isn't carrying the weight of the universe, which is a welcome change for him.
He approaches the cobbled stairs that lead up to the platform you're on. He mass displaces whilst still walking, timing it perfectly so that he's the right size by the time he takes his first step.
Your eyes continue to follow him as he ascends, the water running off of him and leaving pede-shaped water marks along the floor.
Making his way to you, you can sense the warm smile situated beneath his mask. You turn your body to face him, admiring him in all his glory.
"You are beautiful," he hushes, sounding almost breathless, if a mechanical being was capable of such. His optics roam the silhouette of the dress, making sure to admire every fibre.
You smile softly in return, reaching your hand out to thread your fingers through his digits. He steps closer to you before pulling back his mask, drawing your hand up to place a gentle kiss on the back of it.
The blush that dusts over your cheeks is so juvenile it's almost embarrassing. You should be used to his romantics by now.
"I wore this just for you," you admit quietly.
He admires you some more, taking every millisecond he can to bathe in your beauty. In how perfectly the dress fits, and how wonderfully it complements your complexion.
"And I have never been so impressed with a sight in all my life," he replies softly.
You can't help the smile that pulls over your lips at that, dropping your head a little from how giddy he's got you feeling.
"You sure are a sweet talker, huh?" You say. It should be expected from a leader like him.
"But not a single word is a lie," he remarks, pulling you in closer so that he can settle his other servo on your waist. He smooths his touch over the side of you, letting the material run under his digits. His optics are glued to your torso and midriff.
He hums as he grips your waist tighter, practically groping you at this point. His bright blue optics analyse every fibre of your dress, and the curves that he can see silhouetted beneath.
"This is really doing it for you," you tease playfully with a coy smile.
"Most definitely," he replies almost mindlessly, too focused on how amazing you look. He's never been so turned on by his own colours before. "You belong in an art museum."
"Platitudes," you dismiss, but your smile doesn't fade.
"Not empty ones," he counters, settling his other servo at the back of your head. He leans down for a kiss, which you return enthusiastically.
His derma are soft and warm. They're inviting, embracing you softly in a way you can't refuse. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, rising up on your tiptoes to make the kiss easier. Even mass-displaced, he's a fair size bigger than you. Something tells you he enjoys that, which is why he doesn't make himself any smaller.
He grips your waist a little harder, kneading the flesh he finds there. You let out a small whimpering noise, coming undone incredibly easily. Who could blame you? Just look at him.
But that's exactly what he wanted. Exactly what he was seeking. Without wasting time, the servo on your waist slips down the chiffon material of your dress, cupping underneath your thigh to hike your leg up against him. You curl your calf around to keep yourself on him.
His derma slide from your lips to your cheek, slowly making his way down to your jawline, then following to your neck. You sigh as you crane your head to the side a little, giving him better access.
There's no question about what he wants right now.
"You wanna do this here, Optimus?" You ask, settling your hand on the back of his helm whilst he continues with his flurry of affection. He grinds his hips against your clothed pussy, making you whine out.
This area, although shrouded by vines and flora, is still fairly public. Any of the natives could stumble upon you here, and you're not sure of their public indecency laws.
Normally, Optimus wields better control over himself. But right now, he's utterly ravaged by the deep urge to have you. Seeing you in his colours does something to him that he can't explain. It's unbecoming for a mech of his nature and standing.
"I always want you, no matter where," he says against your skin. His servos fall to just below your hips, gathering up the chiffon material of your skirt in bunches.
He digs underneath the bunched-up material, seeking your underwear. His thumbs loop through the waistband as he drags his kisses slightly lower, just brushing over your collarbone.
Pushing the underwear down, he gets them far enough until they fall on their own. His servo ghost up the inside of your thigh, tracing the smooth skin all the way to the apex. You whimper as he strokes your slickening core, testing the waters.
"Already wet," he mutters. He pets over your entrance, making you preen up onto your tiptoes to catch his derma in another kiss. He drags his digits through your folds, spreading your essence all over you.
"Hold your skirt," he requests lowly. You comply, taking the front of your skirt and keeping it up. His servos trail around to the back of your thighs, hoisting you up with ease.
You let go of your skirt, letting it cascade down around your hooked thighs and a part of his abdominal grates. You hear the hiss of his interface panels opening, and you feel the presence of his impressive spike deploy from its array. It balances beneath you, a fraction away from the split between your legs.
"Are you okay to do it without foreplay?" He asks, mindful of your well-being. You'll always come first, but right now, he's chomping at the bit to start.
"Yeah," you whisper back, trying to keep your voice down.
He angles his hips beneath you, diverting his thick tip to your hole. You shudder a breath as he settles, feeling the heat of it radiate onto you. He grunts as he starts to push, begging to be permitted beyond the resistance of your tightness. You mewl lightly as he slips his head inside, easing you down onto his length.
His servos shift to your ass, giving him a better hold to sheathe you onto every inch. You sigh with pleasure as you feel his spike make a path inside of you.
"Taking it so well," he praises, "You're doing amazing."
Locking your legs tighter around his waist, you let him bounce you. His servos cup nearly your entire ass, making it easy to move you.
Your pussy squeezes him tight. You're more turned on by the risk of being caught than you'd like to admit. Optimus loves that about you. So bashful and modest until you're coming apart on eight inches of pure heaven.
"I can't believe how beautiful you are," he mutters in awe, his optics fixed on your clothed body. With or without clothing, your body is the hottest he's ever seen.
One hand moves to the side of his helm, splaying your fingers out to touch as much as you can of him. Your mouth drops open in a breathy moan, dropping your head down to place your forehead against his. He grunts as your pussy swallows every inch of him with glee.
He should be aiding his Autobots right now. He should be working with them on the next plan of action, he should be fulfilling his duties. But here he is, deep inside your dripping cunt instead.
It's allowed, right? He does so much all of the time. Surely he's allowed to indulge himself in some mindless pleasure here and there.
"You can have this, Optimus," you hush, reading his mind. His energy is clear to you. He has a bad poker face whenever you're around. "You're allowed moments where you feel good for the sake of feeling good."
"It's you that makes me feel good," he replies. Your pussy is so wet already that a ring of dew is already collecting at the base of him. Your heat is like a second home to him.
"Trust me, you make me feel good as well," you murmur back, drawing in to kiss him. He hums into the act, melting from your delicate affection.
You're making weak, fragile little noises as he has his way with you. You don't know who might end up walking by. It bothers Optimus when you're quiet, he likes to hear you scream and moan. But he gets it, he supposes.
He loves feeling your body pressed against his. He loves getting to see your face and hear your sounds of pleasure uttered right into his audials. Being close with you is what really makes it for Optimus. He's not really into fucking, or quickies, he prefers to take his time. Right now might be considered a little bit of an exception to that rule, however.
"These colours suit you so well," he mutters, hungry for more. He looks down, watching the mounds of your tits bounce beneath the sheer material.
"Because they're your colours," you reply with a sly smile. "Makes you feel territorial, doesn't it?"
"You might be right," he says.
"Might be? You undersell it. I know it gets you worked up to see me parading your colours like this, to make a show of who I belong to."
He moans, pulling his optics up to look at you. You're flustered and bothered, restraining yourself as much as you can.
"You know me too well."
"I try," you hush in return before swiping your tongue lightly over his bottom derma, pleading for him to open up. He captures you again, this time winding his glossa with your tongue. You moan into his hot intake as you feel your pussy throb with anticipation and excitement.
The pliant flesh of your ass spills through the gaps between his digits as he bounces you on him. It's so easy for him, it requires little to no effort.
"I'd love to see you wear my colours more often," he admits, almost pleading. He thinks of all the different kinds of attire you could wear. Tops, skirts, socks. Nightwear, lingerie. Maybe more, maybe toys that match his colour scheme. Who knows.
"I'll make sure of it," you respond. It gets a unique sense of pride swelling in his chassis, like he sees that you're just as proud to rep his signature colours as he is.
"I couldn't believe my luck the first time I had you in my berth, you know that?" He declares, knowing that his smooth voice often has a powerful effect on you. "All these years I've been alive, and I've never known pleasure like I did that night."
What an honour. To bring a being as old and experienced as him to the heights of ecstasy.
"Organic pussy does it for you, hm?" You tease seductively.
"Just yours," he retorts, "Nothing else comes close."
You can tell he's being truthful by the expression on his face. He's submerged in a new kind of bliss as your pussy moves up and down his spike. It doesn't even occur to him that you're in public. Right now, it's just the two of you.
"Mmph— Optimus," you moan pitchily. A little pout forms on your lips as your brows crease, the pleasure starting to possess every inch of you.
"Feels good?" He asks, admiring that look on your face.
"More than good," you reply, the words tangled in a moan.
"Why don't you cum for me, hm? Paint my spike that milky colour I love so much?"
You whine, knowing you're close. It won't take much more, truly.
"Tell me what I wanna hear," you request.
"Oh, you're my good girl, aren't you? Such a beautiful little thing as you make my spike wet. My good girl that always cums for me."
You moan, much louder than anytime before, as his words prove to be your undoing. Your toes curl as your eyes roll into the back of your head, releasing your pleasure. Your tight pussy squeezes him, begging for everything he has.
"That's it, just like that," he moans as he feels your release cover him. He captures your lips in a heated kiss, needing just a little more to get himself there, too.
"Overload inside of me, Optimus," you beg into his intake. "Fill me up, I want my pussy to be the colour of your transfluid."
He groans deeply. It would be so fitting, wouldn't it? Adorned in his frame colours on the outside, stuffed full of his pink seed on the inside.
"You're filthy," he huskily replies.
"And you love it," you retort.
He kisses you again before shortly following with a powerful overload. He vents into your mouth as your tongue enters, looking for his glossa. Gratifying you, he lets a dance commence as he spills every drop inside of you.
Propped up on the kitchen counter of your idyllic cottage, your clothes are strewn on the floor, long forgotten at this point.
Your lips are in a heated battle against his derma as his servos roam you. Kneading the mounds on your chest, squeezing your hips, grabbing you to his spark’s content.
His hips thrust like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to experience your needy heat. He slides in and out, making sure you feel every inch. You’re moaning and whining into his intake, your hands snaking up to curl around the back of his neck.
Deft fingers find their way into the cabling you find along his neck, teasing them with fleeting and sensual touches. He vents into your mouth as his hips stutter for a moment.
“Put another baby in me, Megatron,” you request ardently. “Keep fucking me until I’m carrying a whole litter of your sparklings.”
He moans, moans, against the soft flesh of your tongue. He grabs your hips with both servos, gripping you tight. You know he has a breeding kink, and he keeps bringing up the topic of trying for another baby. He’s such a good father, so what’s the harm in gratifying him?
“We’ll need to fuck all night in that case, Starlight,” he utters.
“It’ll be worth it,” you reply before ghosting your hand down to one of his. You grab it, leading it over to where your womb is. His servo cups over it so tenderly, as though he still feels the remnants of your pregnancy.
“Think about your seed taking, about my stomach growing just like before,” you whisper, pulling his servo north to cup your tit. “And how full of milk I’ll be. You liked sucking on my tits last time, didn’t you?”
Next, he whimpers. He actually whimpers, and it takes you by surprise. You make a small yip of a noise, pulling back in shock. In all your years together, you’ve never heard him make a sound like that.
Now, you’re determined to make him do it again. You do have all night, after all.
Remember your oneshot where ATD reader gets sent back in time? Walk with me on this.. reader is sent FURTHER back in time and pays a visit to our dear Megatron during his mining days?👀
You don’t have to write anything on this, This has just been lingering in my mind since reading the first one LOL Hope you have a wonderful day and thank you for spoiling us with every fic you write!!🩶💜
⊹˚.* miner/gladiator megatron x human fem reader
-> tags: suggestive content. 3.7k words
ouuughhh anon i like the way you THINK!! nothing explicitly freaky happens in this chapter, but as the ask implies, it exists in the across the divide universe — enjoy!♥️
Sitting on your haunches with your hands planted on the cold, metal floor, you peer up at the gargantuan enclosed environment you find yourself in. Your hands ball into fists, your nails dragging up some of the dirt and grime from the floor. The air here is musky and thick, every breath is a fight to survive.
The walls that tower above you are made of metal, but are arched with some skeletal-looking decor that lines the length of the corridor. It's as though you're in the ribcage of a fearsome mechanical beast. The light is low, making it difficult to make out anything. Your breath leaves your lungs as quickly as it enters them, acute dread starting to sew itself through your nervous system.
Perhaps you're destined to constantly be at the receiving end of physics-bending portals that love to spit you out into different periods of time. Right now, that's the only logical conclusion you've come to.
You can hear a muffled, booming sound from a fair distance away. It rumbles through the floor, vibrating through your hands and shins. It sounds like cheering, but it doesn't really help you understand where you are.
On stiff but shaky legs, you manage to get to your feet. You plant one hand against the wall for stability, taking a deep breath before looking down the length of the hallway. It's glum and gloomy, and humid beyond belief. With no clue as to where you are, you decide that exploring your surroundings is your only option.
Your hand runs against the cold wall as you walk, moving closer to the pinprick of light you can see in the distance. You assume that the cheering you can hear will be revealed to you in full once you emerge from this dark hallway, and maybe someone who can help you get back to the Lost Light, and most importantly, Megatron.
Stale oil and crusted energon collect under your fingertips as you continue on your path. The air feels dangerous, like it's coiling around the width of your throat and threatening to snuff out your life. You do everything you can to battle through it, focusing on the deific light that presents itself before you, getting closer with each step.
As you reach the end, the unison of cheers and chants becomes so loud that it makes your eardrums vibrate. You have to squint at how bright it is now, but you remain fixed to the wall. Adjusting your sights, you realise that you're in some kind of stadium. Rows upon rows of spectators lined up in a huge circular space, all pointing towards the centre so that they can enjoy the show.
"Megatron!"
"Meg— A— Tron!"
"Yeah! Get him!"
"Megatron!"
The yowls are thundering, like hooligans at a sports match. As your eyes cross the arena floor, you realise that you are indeed watching another form of sport. Blood sport. Or maybe better described as energon sport.
You witness a large, grey mech with red accents and black decorative swirls on his plating pummeling another mech. You recognise the attacker immediately as Megatron. You're reminded that Megatron once told you he modelled his current look off the appearance he had when he was a gladiator, so that he could always remember where he came from.
He's visibly far more staunch and aggressive like this. Spurts of energon spray everywhere as Megatron demolishes his opponent below. He has his dentae bared, his optics blazing wildly. It's the image of desperate survival. Of doing what he must in order to see the next cycle. It's kill or be killed, all for the viewer's pleasure. It's unethical and immoral under every definition of the word, and you can't help but observe in morbid awe.
For a moment, a damning moment, the aggressive beast looks up from his opponent. His optics dart in your exact direction, which steals the oxygen from your lungs in a startled gasp.
As he stares, he realises that there's nothing to be seen. There's nothing where he's looking, despite some invisible force urging him to gaze in that direction.
The faltering second is all it takes for Megatron's opponent to grasp at what little power he could. Wrapping his arm struts around Megatron, he rolls with him to turn the tide. Megatron grunts as he suffers a blow to his faceplate, but it doesn't cause any lasting damage.
Resorting to more violence, Megatron secures his arms around his enemy before engaging in his alt-mode transformation.
The act, whilst wound around another mech, causes his poor opponent to be ripped in half. A piercing, shrill sound cries out from the loser, a sound so pitchy it causes you to wince. You squint, shielding yourself from the graphic view.
The uproar from the crowd is enough to cause the supports to shake. Their golden victor reigns supreme once more, never failing to be entertained by such barbarity.
Megatron's engines idle, rumbling lowly as he basks in the glory. It's a desired side effect of the role he plays. They're chiselling away at him like he's fine marble, forming him into something mortals could only dream of.
He transforms back into his bipedal form, clenching his servos beside him before raising one fist to secure the win. The mechs circling him continue to clap and cheer, as if they didn't just watch a murder right before them.
Maybe, just maybe, you see how the warlord was born.
With this, it's his third win of the day. Which means he can now retire to his cell for a much-needed rest. Other gladiators can now take the centre stage to sate the endless need that these bloodthirsty aristocrats have.
He storms through the stretch of the arena, heading straight for the exit that you're currently glued to the wall of. You watch with bated breath as he approaches, but it doesn't seem he knows you're there. The crowd claps and chants his name to bid him a farewell, until next time.
Energon drips off his servos, leaving a trail behind him. It seeps into the cracks and seams of the metallic floor, threatening to rust it even further. A deep scowl is present on his features, one you recognise from the first few meetings you had with him.
This is where the miner-poet died, and the tyrant was born. These fights hardened him, they whittled him down until he snapped. You're not sure how far through that transformation he is at this point. The gravity that bends around him isn't quite as noticeable as the mech you're married to. He carries less sin, less tragedy. Less bitterness and anger.
The egg is only just starting to crack, from what you can tell. You like to think you know Megatron pretty well at this point.
He closes in on the exit, swallowing you in his shadow. You keep close to the wall as your eyes follow him, contemplating whether or not you should say something and make him aware of your existence.
Up close, it's definitely Megatron. Younger, but still him. He doesn't have those lines in his face which you know signify his age, and his optics are shaped a little differently.
He walks past you a few paces, but then, he halts. That same invisible entity roots him in his place. He turns his helm, looking back at the way he came. Just as before, he doesn't see anything.
That is, until your small form shifts in his peripheral vision. His optics snap to you, and he slowly pivots on his pedes.
"What are you?" You hear him ask just under a whisper. You're a tiny little thing, even smaller than a minicon. Yet… Strangely Cybertronian in structure. Bipedalism, a similar facial structure, and apparently sentient. Like some distant cousin of his species that was abandoned by evolution.
Before you can answer, he darts down to grab you around your waist. A squeal spills from you as he brings you closer to his chassis, shielding you as though you're a fine bottle of engex that another inmate might try stealing from him. Perhaps you are his winnings for today. He would've preferred a full meal, but he won't look a gift horse in the mouth.
He marches towards his habsuite, if it could be even described as such. A cell is probably a better term for it. It lacks security or privacy, with no door or barrier to prevent outside forces from coming in. He moves quicker than you can register as he turns into the equally derelict, barren space, which shares its atmosphere with the hallway connected to it.
Despite your struggle, you're not being very loud. No verbal protests except the meek sounds of writhing and huffing. Something gentle courses through Megatron's circuitry at your presence, as if you're slowly sedating him. Bringing him down from the adrenaline high of tearing through a dozen enemies for the upper echelon of society's entertainment.
He feels an innate sense to protect you, to keep you shielded and safe under his powerful servo. The same servo that just tore helms from shoulders will now guard you under his safety.
Sitting on his chipped, worn berth, he pulls you back to take a good look at you. He recognises the air of familiarity that you carry, and he knows it can only mean one thing.
"Why do you have my mark?" He asks, "You have my scent."
To be extra certain, he brings you to his faceplates. He presses your midriff up against his hooked nose, inventing to drag the smell of you deeper into his sensors. You yelp, not expecting such boldness. Your Megatron has never resorted to smelling you so overtly before.
"Megatron!" You cry, planting your hands on his helm. He continues to pull in your scent, nuzzling under your t-shirt to drag the bloodied metal of his nose along your bare skin.
"How do you know my name? I've never met you before," he remarks, the words bouncing off your skin. Aside from the fact that this mech literally becomes your husband in the future, he should've guessed that you'd pick up on his name from the endless chants of it in the arena.
"N—Not yet," you manage to respond.
"What does that mean?" He asks, pulling back from you to look at you. The red of his optics is much richer and deeper than the mech you're married to, like he's truly yet to see any authentic light in his life.
"Well… You do meet me, eventually. In about four million years," you explain to him, knowing how absurd it sounds. "This thing keeps happening to me where I'm sucked into portals and it's spitting me out into different timelines, each time I stumble across a previous version of you. I know that sounds insane, but you have to believe me!"
He studies you for a moment, notes the glint in your eyes and the slight tremble of your bottom lip.
"I believe you," he speaks lowly, pulling you close to smell you again. "Why would I have any reason to think you're lying?"
Huh. That's certainly a different tune from what you've received in the past. Maybe he's not incredibly cynical and suspicious at this point in his life.
"That's… That's great, I appreciate that," you mutter, a little flustered. "I miss you, though. I'd like to return to you. The future you. Do you know anyone who might be able to help?"
Pulling back again, he turns your question over in his processor. His optics scan down your body as his other servo comes up to drag his pointer digit down your torso, feeling you up.
"I do not," he mumbles, tracing the curves of your body. "It's nothing but brute strength and bellows down here."
Disheartening to hear, but you aren't surprised. Perhaps the same thing that happened last time will happen again, where the portal returns to spit you back out into your current timeline. You'll just have to wait and see, or maybe wait for your Megatron to find a way to retrieve you. You do not doubt that he will.
"What are you?" Megatron asks for the second time. He grabs your ankle between his thumb and foredigit, letting go of your waist with his other servo. You yell as your body flops down, dangling now by your ankle. He rotates you slightly to get a good look at all of you. He's never seen anything that looks like you before.
He's far more curious than the mech you're familiar with. You can tell he's younger, not yet hardened and brutalised by the cold, cruel universe.
"I'm a human!" You yelp. You trust that he won't drop you, but you can't be sure. Falling from this height would definitely kill you.
"Huuuman?" He repeats, tasting the word.
"My species doesn't exist yet for you," you try to tell him, struggling with the pressure of being hung upside down. "Can you please put me the right way up? This is uncomfortable."
He hums before satisfying your request, grabbing you by the waist to spin you back into the position he had you in previously. He pokes against your thighs and stomach with the digits on his other servo.
"You're so soft," he remarks, "How do we know each other?"
"We met on a ship," you say vaguely. You're mindful of what they call the Butterfly Effect. You don't want to say anything damning which might alter the trajectory of the future.
"We must be close," he speaks, his optics honing in on the vial that hangs around your neck. With a delicate digit, he knocks the vial to slosh the liquid around inside. "You have my innermost energon, as well as my mark."
"Yes, we have a strong bond," you answer.
"How strong?" He counters, shooting you an intrigued look.
You feel your cheeks flush with heat at the expression he's giving you. You aren't sure what to make of it, whether he's teasing you or genuinely unaware.
"We uh— We're what humans call married," you reply, hoping that the term is alien enough for him not to understand.
"Hmm," he vocalises, "I've never had a sparkmate before."
So he does understand. Maybe he can sense it, like he could the last time. Something about the Conjunx bond transcending timelines.
"How does that work?" He asks curiously, looking down at your legs. He grabs your ankle again, but this time pulls your leg outwards to spread you wide. "You are so small, after all."
You fight his hold, yanking your leg away to close yourself off from him out of mild embarrassment. You never thought Megatron could be so outspoken and borderline crude. He's immensely curious about you, not being shy to poke and pull at you to sate his questions.
"We— We have our ways," you stutter, "You'll find out for yourself."
"I suppose I can be patient," he answers, tilting his helm to the side as his hungry optics continue to roam you. He looks as though he wants to strip you bare and find out how the two of you make things work right now, but he senses your uncertainty.
And you're not uncertain because you don't want to, or that you're uncomfortable. It's the nagging voice in your head reminding you of the Butterfly Effect, which Brainstorm has lectured you on endlessly. Having sex with past Megatron, when he was in his stealthbomber form, was risky enough. The only difference was that at that point, Megatron was too far gone in his twisted ideology. Nothing you did would ever have steered him on a different path.
But to a Megatron this inexperienced? Things could work out differently. For better or worse. Maybe you'd have the chance to stop the war from ever happening, or you could cause a fate far worse. It's not something you want to tamper with. Only monsters play with the universe like that.
"How did you get back to your timeline before?" He asks, running his digit up and down your side as though he's gently petting you.
"Uhh… I just did, I guess? Another portal opened up and I got sucked back through," you recount your previous experience.
"Until that time, you're mine, right?" He concludes with a dull glint in his dark optics.
"Yours in every lifetime," you reply quietly.
"How romantic," he chuckles airily.
"Coming from the poet," you retort with a sly smile.
"Gladiator," he corrects pointedly, as if he's ashamed of being labelled as anything else.
"Yes, miner-turned-poet-turned-gladiator," you reply coyly, "I remember your history. I'd never forget it."
He brushes his nose against your torso again, addicted to scenting you. He's never laid his mark on another before, but he's enjoying the experience. You receive the gesture more easily this time, relaxing into the touch that is foreign yet familiar at the same time. It's soft, wrapping you in a fur-lined piece of heaven to make sure you feel protected and secure.
"Well, little human, I must recharge following my victory. Would you like to rest with me?"
"Is it safe to?" You ask, mindful of how open this place feels. You wouldn't be surprised if an attempt on his life is made.
"With me? Always."
You should never have questioned it. Of course, you'll always be safe with Megatron.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
Shooting up from a gust of wind startling you, you yelp as your head hits the underside of a table. Whatever is on top of it rattles, the metal object undulating as it balances again. You groan in pain, placing your hand on top of your throbbing head.
Gathering your senses, you shimmy out from underneath the table. Looking around, you recognise that you're in your greenhouse, and spawned right under the table that hosts your very first plant from Megatron.
You stand, still cradling your sore head, making sure that the striking golden vase didn't sustain any damage from your knock. All seems to be okay, so you huff before rubbing your head a little to soothe it.
Turning, you start to walk towards the door. You should probably find Megatron. You have no idea how long you've been gone, so he might be worried.
As if the Devil heard you speak, the doors open before you can reach them. Megatron immediately moves into the room, seemingly relieved to see you.
"Little Light!" He announces, clamping the wrist-mounted mass displacement device on. He shrinks down to the height you're used to, closing in on you.
"What's happened? Are you hurt?" He asks semi-frantically, eyeing up the hand currently placed over the top of your head.
"Just had a little bump," you reply. He ushers your hand away, insisiting to let him take a look. He cups your head with his servos on either side, tilting your head down so that he can inspect the damage. No blood, and no obvious swelling.
"Where were you this time?" He probes, ducking down to give the gentlest of kisses to the top of your head.
"If you can believe it, with you. Again. Gladiator you," you explain with a sigh. All these portals really take a physical toll on your body. It's not natural for you.
"So, a much younger version of me, hm?" He says, hooking his foredigit under your chin to angle you so that you're looking up at him. He has an optical ridge perked, and you know exactly what he's thinking.
"Nothing like that happened this time. You were more just curious about what I am and where I came from."
"You really need to draw back how many portal adventures you go on, you frighten me to death when I can't find you," he says before picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You sling your arms around his shoulders as he walks with you.
"You know I don't mean to go on them, right? It just keeps happening to me," you defend yourself playfully as he sets you down on the counter.
"I'm going to need to chain you to me at this rate," he jests, placing his warm servo against the side of your head. He brushes his thumb over your cheekbone tenderly, billowing a relieved exvent from his grates.
"I'm not strictly opposed to that idea," you respond with a toothy smile. "Are you sure you wouldn't get sick of me?"
"Me? Sick of you? I don't think such a thing is possible. In fact, I think your presence would make much of my work go much quicker. Especially Magnus' tedious ship reports."
"Hey," you protest lightly, "He's just being thorough. Besides, you always pay every report a lot of care and attention."
"Of course, someone has to. Primus knows Rodimus won't," he replies before pressing a gentle kiss to your browbone.
"It's a hard life, isn't it, Megatron?" You coo with faux sympathy.
"I'll lock you in the brig for that," Megatron jokes with you, poking your side softly with his other servo. You giggle in response, finding his response endearing.
After a few moments of stifled laughter, you come out with another question which has hung in your mind for a while now.
"Can you… Smell your bond to me?" You ask curiously.
He shoots you a curious look in response before a small smile stretches over his derma.
"Smell it?" He repeats, "It's less of a smell, more of a sense, I suppose."
"And can others sense it?"
He chuckles lightly, dipping down to kiss you. You sigh into it, wrapping your legs around him almost on instinct. He brings himself closer, pressing his hip panels flush against you.
"They can," he whispers against your lips, "So yes, every Cybertronian we come across knows you're mine without even having to ask."
You pull him in for more kisses, settling your hands over the back of his helm.
"Your former selves call it a mark," you say through the kiss. "Pray tell, how did you mark me?"
"Allow me to demonstrate," he hushes huskily before disengaging his interface panels, deploying his thick and heavy spike to show you exactly how he laid his mark on you for everyone else to sense.
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i’m going to take another short break <3 i think it’s good for my mind palace to detox every few months!! i’m hitting writers block HEAVVYYY. i’m logging out entirely, i shall be back in two weeks!! expect a lot of megatron and optimus content when i return >:) and also the final two chapters of little bird for tarn!!
