[fictional character fucker] 🔞

HI HELLO I bit the bullet and decided to make a self ship/ X Reader blog.

You can call me Rabot! I'm HE/HIM queer. I'm an adult, FYI! I'm from the internet age when giving your info out is bad, so I'll be vague outta habit, but I am an adult. Minors DNI, please. I'll be posting smut occasionally. Also, DNI if you can't handle Dark content (noncon, yandere, other mature/problematic written topics). I write them.

This is a sideblog for me, so if you follow me as another imagine blog, we might be mutuals you just can't see it <3 also I have the social skills of stray ant after covid lockdown so please be aware I'm a bit fucking strange and unusual. It's not usually done maliciously. Please be patient with me to a degree I'm sorry I was born stupid.

. ⋰ ꒰͜͡ ྀ ❤︎ ͜͡꒱ ˙ ִㅤֺ ִ ⁝ .⠀[What's this blog for?] ‘ ⋰ ꒰͜͡ ྀ ❤︎ ͜͡꒱ ˙ ִㅤֺ ִ ⁝ ִ

1] so I have a place to reblog others x reader content

2] so I can post the little bit of x reader stuff I write for myself.

My blogs specifically for scenarios/Headcanons of the short. The type with bullet points and such from fictional characters. Or the longer run ons, it all depends on how I feel.

I write for Gender neutral Readers and Masc or Male readers! I'll do Fem or girl stuff only when I think a character would specifically act differently in that regard compared to a masc or male reader and It's also done when I want to.

I Sorta do requests! I'm mostly just planning on writing for myself, so to speak. You're more than welcome to send ideas or ramblings about characters in my inbox, but I don't wanna promise I'd be able to fill in any requests. If an idea or thing interests me, I might make a drabble or hcs in response to your ask.

If I don't respond to an ask, it either doesn't strike any inspiration in me, or I'm just saving it for later. (Or I deadass do not know what to say and deleted it.). I'm here for fun and a good time this isn't gonna be a job for me especially when I don't get paid to do it.

• Transformers! <- my thing rn! I'm newer! I watched TFONE and got weird about robots. Talk to me about the G1 cartoon all three seasons, TFO, Beastwars. And Prime

• ONE PIECE <- I like pirates. I tend to get obsessed with one piece in small bursts that come and go. I'm currently up to date on the manga.

Any other fandoms I may write for are more spontaneous things. Since I do not control the inspo and I have no clue what my brain will choose next. You can still talk to me about those fandoms/characters too!

❌Any type of Mess play is a hard no for me (Vomit, Watersports, Scat.)

❌Knife or blade play is a no.

❌Also absolutely no forced pregnancy please thanks. (I don't mind noncon by itself or even preg talk/content just don't mix the two please)

❌ No Forcefem.

❌ I do not consent to AI of my works or my works being trained for AI.

I block people liberally who post in the general "x reader" tag and don't tag properly or warn for she/her and assumed women reader. I'm tired and just not dealing with it at this point. TAG YOUR SHIT CORRECTLY PEOPLE! Do not tag it as "x gn reader" When the character calls reader "pretty girl" be serious right now.

#Rabot writes (My stuff)

#Rabot Requests (Asks I've written for)

#Hop skip (Me yapping about things)

#🥀(Angst)

#🔞 (smut/nsft)

#💛(Platonic)

#💌(Purely Romantic)

#🩹(Comfort)

#🩶 (Yandere) I only really like what's considered "light" Yandere, I like obsessive vibes but don't typically enjoy like the whole "hurting you or your loved ones" type of stuff.

My ao3 is here! where I cross post my stuff in case Tumblr just gets unplugged one day

[Transformers Masterlist]

[Misc Masterlist]

"Ravage! You know you won't escape on your own!" Megatron follows after the cassette he knows all too well. Data stick in between her jaws and running as quickly as she can to evade him. The woods aren't as thick where they are currently- A more open space. So she cannot simply slip through the bristle and disappear into the greenery.

He's almost upon her- close enough he knows she may do something drastic and he lunges before she can make her own dicey decision.

One that does not follow through when Megatron is slammed into the ground much sooner than he would have, if his momentum carried through like it should have. A weight- one he registers lately as a mech had sent him right into the ground. With enough force to feel it in his denta.

Rock and dirt fly and Megatron curses before hauling himself out of the small imprint in the dirt. Cannon raised and ready to fire if given the opportunity.

But instead he freezes. Stops dead still and his cannon powers down immediately.

Because the mech now only a couple pedes in front of him is no other than you.

When he lowers his cannon you just turned your attention onto Ravage instead. So he takes a step forward fully ready to tackle you if he truly needed to-

"Ravage. Return." It's a short order. One that stops her and him just like that. Because you'd said it.

She stops and glances at Megatron and then you. Like she didn't want to leave you to fend for yourself.

Like you couldn't fight him with enough force to make him regret every decision he's ever made leading up to this. (Like he wouldn't do that regardless if you weren't as strong as you were.)

You stared at one another for a moment before you nodded.

That was apparently enough for the cassette and she turned to Megatron one more time to snarl at him. Before dashing off into the brush- information going with her. You now standing directly between Megatron and his assignment.

A quick com flag tells him Optimus is still busy with the seekers. He meets your hard gaze with one of his own.

The silence is practically deafening.

He breaks it.

"I'm not going to fight you."

You scoffed a disbelieving laugh "Yeah?" Your optic ridge arched and a smile on your faceplate. It was not a happy thing.

A beat passed.

Then your expression dropped and you frowned at him. "You're serious?"

When he doesn't respond and keeps his expression sure, you sighed.

You shuttered your optics closed before slowly shaking your helm and lowering your fighting stance. One of your servos finds the back of your neck to rub. "Primus, you continue to find new ways to disappoint me." Megatron has to fight the flinch the casual words bring.

Without giving him another glance, you turned on your pedes and begun walking in the direction Ravage had gone in.

Megatron freezes before he gains his wits again. Once he does he follows after you with a bit of speed. Just to make sure you don't get away from him.

He should fight you. He should capture you. He shouldn't be allowing you to simply turn your back on him and walk away. Not when you were directly attacking G.H.O.S.T operations. Not when you were what was preventing him from retrieving the stolen information Ravage had made off with.

But he finds he cannot bring himself to do it. It had been a long- a very long time since you'd not immediately attempted to kill him.

It had been an even longer one since the last time you'd even spoken to him.

He had begun to assume after all these years you'd decided to torture him specifically by staying silent In his presence.

So he follows. Follows after like an alleyway felinoid who had been given scraps.

It's a causal pace of travel. Not hurried in the slightest. Because he knows the longer you stall the farther Ravage gets away from him.

He knows you're playing him to a degree at the very least. But he also knows if you'd wanted to, there was absolutely nothing stopping you from fighting him with every plate and nanite in your frame. But you hadn't- you were kind. Still even after these years and his own actions. Underneath that exterior of a hardened Decepticon was you- though more so it was not the only part of yourself. It was you. He would not deny that. Capable of brutality and beautiful just the same. Pretty- Handsome.

Multiple earth descriptors pop to the forefront of his helm.

Like nothing had changed in these years.

A fabrication that he couldn't even attempt to entertain when your kindness ran thin and you'd finally spoke again. Voice flat. Completely absent of the affection you once felt for him. Void of even the calm relaxed tone you would proudly reward him with, when he was alone with you. Holding only restrained contempt for him now- it's much more devastating than it should be after these years. (He doesn't know if it ever won't be.)

"You gonna tail me till I get tired and beat you senseless?"

"I want to talk." It's more honest than he thought he would allow himself to be.

You continue your way through the woods brushing away stray branches that come too close to your frame as you walk on. "Then talk. I'm not gagging you. Am I?" You very well may be, the way his throat tightens when he even thinks about where to start.

He dismisses the immediate urge to apologize. He's apologized to you more times than he believes he can count. (Yet it will never be enough.)

Next he smothers down the rather desperate admittance of "I miss you." Keeping it buried somewhere deep within his spark. Knowing he had no right to say that now.

Not when he left you.

Megatron sighed softly to gather himself together. To attempt to be cordial. To be as well behaved and as he presentable as he can. You deserved nothing less. (But you simultaneously deserved more than he could ever give.)

"I wanted to invite you to visit a... dear friend of mine." With me is unspoken but still sits obvious and heavy in the air. You are undisturbed as you continue forward so he also does. "I know I've wronged you in ways I can never make up for- done things I cannot undue. But I would like... I would to make things- better." He purposefully avoids the word "fix" because he knows there was more than likely no fixing what he'd done. "To not..." He stops with the thought he was going to say.

Because "to not leave you in dark" is so cruel of a thing to say he almost cannot believe he even considered it. Not now. Not after all these years. He's attempted, (Not nearly hard enough. Not nearly enough.) to pretend this was anything more than a rather poor attempt of Megatron trying to ease the pain in his spark.

The guilt in his processor.

But it was more than that-! He wanted you to not have to hate him so thoroughly. He wanted you to have some form of closure just like himself. He wanted you to met Dorothy and actually talk to him and her.

(He wanted you to have the same clarity like he had. To realize you've truly been doing wrong. That it didnt need to be this way.)

"She's... why I realized I'd done wrong." The words are heavy on his glossia. "I'd like to show you why I changed at the very least. To truly let you understand why I did what I did."

He feels comfortable with the offer- you'd always preferred to keep innocents out of the war whenever possible. (Even back when he would directly involve them despite your wants.) You did the same on earth. Elita reported you'd even saved a Bus full of civilians on her last encounter with you. When the multiple mech fight had led to stray blaster fire almost blowing the defenseless vehicle to bits. It survived. So did everyone aboard it. Simply because of you and no one else decided to act.

Because you decided to do the right thing.

"Glad she was worth changing for." There's no venom in your tone. Simply a flat edge of sarcasm to it. But the words might as well have been engraved on your knuckles and smashed directly into his unguarded olfactory.

Words he cannot find a rebuttal for- you'd expressed your doubts to him before. You'd done so countless times before over the many many vorns you’d known each other. The frequency and weight behind those concerns only increasing the longer the war continued. Worries about the cause. About his actions. About him- About what he was doing.

About what he was becoming.

The worry of someone he held closest to his spark but concerns he'd ignored or dismissed as if they were nothing more than the yelps of a glitch ridden turbofox.

As If they were nothing more than the scorn and things hurled at you both, for daring to challenge the system you'd both been abused by.

He would bury your words. Bury your concerns underneath his own words. Underneath his own ideals. Underneath reminders of why you'd both forsaken Cybertron and his oppressors. Reminded you why he had to. Why you had to. Why this was all necessary.

Why you'd both turned your backs on acts and depravity that were unforgivable on cybetron.

Turned your backs on bots who fought against you or refused to see things from the Decepticon viewpoint.

Turned your backs on the true weight and full severity of the atrocities the Decepticons committed.

And he'd done the very same to you in the end.

He'd abandoned you as easily as he had the rest of his former mechs. Without warning. Without word. Without what he knew must have seemed like care.

"I-" he paused. "… I know I've wronged you but I know you also don't necessarily agree with the current Decepticon cause." It's an audacious thing to say- scummy even when considering everything. But Megatron also knows it's true.

It has to be. He knows you're good. You're a good bot. A mech he's known was truly good as long as you'd been friends.

A mech much too good for a mech like him to have sullied.

He knows you're still good despite it all. Despite how much he's hurt you. Despite how furious you rightfully were with him.

He knows you can still do the right thing. If any Decepticon could. It would be you.

"Yeah, maybe theres a touch of tension. And well...  at least I know Starscream." You shrugged simply continuing on as you spoke. Not even turning your helm back his way once the entire time he'd been following you. "He's actually not too bad when you're not trying to kill him every other cycle. I might even say we're actually- friends now."

"Starscream-?" He cannot stop himself from responding to the outrageous idea.

Friends-? Friends? You and Starscream?

Surely you must be joking.

You always butted helms- yes, there was an underlying understanding between the two of you in a way two Decepticons who despise each other could only have. But you both clashed- verbally and physically more times he could count. The thin air of professionalism you'd both retrain always threatening to give way to energon being spilled.

And you were supposedly friends now-?

"Yup." You popped the end of the word against your derma. Some lingering hint of amusement in your tone. The only emotion he's had privy to this entire trek through the woods. "Again we still argue sometimes, but we're actually pretty good to one another. I actually know him enough now I trust him with my life. Yes, I'm serious about that."

The frankly unacceptable notion has him balking at the back of your helm. "You cannot-!" you did in fact already confirm it in the same vent. "Starscream- Starscream-!?" He stresses because he cannot not. His traitorous second in command!? You cannot put that amount of trust in him-! He'll end up getting you killed the moment it serves him!

"Yeah, that's what I said. He's mellowed out actually after the years." Ten earth years was hardly enough time to mellow even the outer layer of that seekers personality disorder. "Unlike some mechs I actually know him and what he's going to do and what to expect from him. Surprise surprise betrayal actually isn't one of the thing's I have to expect from him. Funny isn’t it?" The implication makes something hot and demanding unfurl in his chassis. In a way he hadn't felt in a while.

Funny was certainly a way to put it.

A sick joke.

The idea that you- the notion that you'd even imply- all but state that Starscream. Starscream of all mechs was more trustworthy than Megatron. That you trusted him more. That you were having conversations with him regularly. That you were allowing the seeker to have access to yourself as a friend. To willingly give Starscream your time- your softer side. Your more honest disposition.

The unsaid idea that you valued your relationship with Starscream over him.

The fact that it very well and easily was more than likely true now, was enough to drive Megatron to act recklessly.

He impulsively closed the distance he'd mechanically kept between you two almost immediately. His arm shooting outwards to grab onto your pauldron to all but yank you to face him. To force you to look at him-!

"You know me-!" Is what manages to sneer out of his mouth in a fit of frustration. You knew him. You knew him better than anyone else on this planet. Probably in this solar system. The years- the vorns- the decavorns you'd spent together. As friends let alone together. You must know he had good reason to do what he'd done- you have to know he didn't mean to harm you like he had. You have to know he had to do what he did when he had to.

You have to know he still loves you.

Like a trigger to a blaster you swing back around and strike his servo away from you. It stings and your plating flares in fury. Your optics lock and they're like a sniper sight with how the pin point accuracy the look you give him lands. Em field near choking against his front with a rage he has not seen directed at him from you in a very long time. Even through the years of fighting he'd been subjected to from you after his defection. "I thought I did-!"

It's sharp. Like you'd grown tired of entertaining his desperate attempts to hold onto something that had already slipped through his digits like sand.

Your plating that had tightened and angled in rage, flattened right back out after the snarl before you'd sighed. It was weary. Tired- not even surprised. It was resigned. Like you were expecting this.

Your posture straightened and your pauldrons went loose. Like there was no point to the aggressiveness you'd glimpsed him with.

You make optic contact with him that's not a glare for the first time the entire exchange.

It is easily more devastating than the glare. Your gaze is almost soft. Even. Sure. Expression almost empty. But there was hints of what felt like blatant alarms to Megatron’s audials from what he registered it as.

Disappointed. Accepted disappointment.

Your optics dulled when you'd held each other's gazes for a moment.

When you spoke again your voice was even. Flat. A sense of exhaustion in it that was subdued. Quiet and somber to an almost wistful degree. A small huff- a ghost of a laugh escaping you when you opened your mouth again.

"I really thought I did."

He froze- his lines ran cold.

His fuel tank churns.

He cannot get himself to respond back.

And like a coward he simply stands there in stunned silence when you finally grow tired of his inaction. You turned and walked off back through the tree lines. Taking off into the woods with a controlled even gait. Not even rushing or running from him- simply leaving at your own pace.

…

He vents for the first time in klicks when you'd been out of sight for who knows how long.

He manages a thick swallow- How? He does not know. His throat cables are so tight they feel like they may snap underneath the amount of tension stuck in them.

He grits his jaw and his servos fist tight enough at his sides they ache. He resists the urge to turn and slam his fist into the closest tree. Ending the thought alongside the idea of burning the entire forest down. He would not. Only because of one fact that pushes to the forefront of his helm.

A fact he's come to terms with over the years of his change and all the things he's done that he cannot undue.

Megatron had only himself to blame.

Support divider credit: @/cursed-carmine,

Bumblebee was never the type of bot that liked to kiss

He was always just so adverse to it- or to pulling his mouth guard down at all really. Which you minded a little, but you'd usually just give him a quick peck on said mouth guard. The way Bumblebee’s door wings would flutter a bit every time you'd do it, only encouraged the behavior.

But after his vocalizor was repaired, it was like he was infected by a virus or something!

Which is how you ended up here-!

Both your spikes trapped between where your frames were slotted together as close as they'd go.

You tried to lean back a bit, only for Bumblebee to follow after you- not even allowing the chance of a moment of disconnect. You moan when Bumblebee’s hips jut and your spikes slide against one another. Bumblebee hums and you can feel the sound buzzing against your own glossia. His servos are digging against the dips of your hips. Your own servos on his waist and trying to get some type of control with how unreasonable his mouth was against your own.

You have to swallow when some more oral lubricant hits the back of your throat. The sound of the simple swallow so fragging loud in your audials alongside the other buzz of everything else. Bumblebee’s own noises you're fragging tasting, both your quick vents- another rock of Bumblebee’s hips makes the sound of metal on metal hit the air. Both your frames pressing on one another's. You grunt and you just know you're gonna be covered in streaks of bright yellow and black by the time you get out of your lovers habsuite.

Bumblebee’s glossia finds your own yet again and you press back against him trying rather foolhardily to match his insatiable desire to kiss. The touch of your derma against one another only easing when Bumblebee pulled back to explicitly push forward with more vigor. Derma quickly slipping and re locking just the same to let your glossia’s slide against one another.

You hummed and tried to pull back just a moment to let your helm clear a bit- but Bumblebee only followed you again.

A muffled sound of protest caught in his mouth as one of his servos caught your jaw. Urging you back against him just as badly as his mouth was. You'd huff if you could, but you just had to swallow another batch of both your oral lubricants. One of your servos grabbed onto one of his pauldron tires for purchase. The high strength rubber warm underneath your digits. His voice caught in his throat when you did it but it also didn't slow him down even slightly. But it was fine because you finally just decided to slack. You just needed a klick or two from Bumblebee's insistent oral fetish. Your glossia laxed too, fully content to let Bumblebee do what he'd wanted to your mouth in the mean time.

Bumblebee moaned against you and was undeterred by your sudden submission. Servo tilting your jaw a touch against his own mouth. Bumblebee started dragging his glossia along the indents of your denta. Glossia lingering over one of your fangs whenever he would pass by one. The flat of his glossia would lightly graze over the sharpest point of it.

You offlined your optics while Bumblebee just kept kissing and kissing- your helm was foggy. And your thoughts were indistinguishable from the charge being vaulted around inside it.

Whoops sorry! Can't function at the moment because you're quite literally being kissed stupid right now by your significant other!

Your own hips rocked this time causing another hot drag of friction to roll up and nestle against your spark. You moaned and Bumblebee just kissed you harsher at the sound. Your own muffled noises becoming almost indistinguishable from Bumblebee’s own. You needed some type of control here- something to give you an up. Bumblebee already had the advantage of pressing his full frame weight down on top of you. You needed-

A quick flick of thin metal made your almost offline optics snap back to full function.

Your servos slowly left Bumblebee’s tire and the side of his waist. Instead allowing your digit pads to drag along the plating on his chassis towards his upper back and-

Bumblebee’s almost shout caught in your mouth when you latched onto his doorwings. His hips jumping automatically when you started worrying your digit pads against the very base of them. You vented a laugh through your olfactory when a high pitched keen still managed to escape Bumblebee.

Your derma was slick with oral lubricant- oral lubricant you could feel starting to go down your chin and threatening to roll right down your throat. Bumblebee just adjusted his grip on your hips and rutted forward rather roughly. You ended up lightly nipping him when it had happened. The continued enthusiasm and lack of the sour taste of engeron told you it was minimal.

Certainly not enough to stop Bumblebee from rutting against you again and again. And still not enough to make him pull away from your derma- your own spike throbbed when you bucked against him. Your digits continued to squeeze and lightly pinch at delicate door wings. Enjoying every twitch from them and subsequently every twitch in Bumblebee’s hips. His pace even stuttering when your digits followed along to trace both black stripes on each wing-

Your plating bristled the wrong way when part of your spike pressed against one of the pointer points of one of your frames kibble on his next heavy rut.

You tried to break the kiss in discomfort to readjust but Bumblebee followed you yet again. Your servos left his wings when he unaware just rutted forward just as rough-

A sound caught in your throat and your em field must have jumped the wrong way, because Bumblebee froze and finally pulled back.

You gasped and half choked on the abundance of oral lubricant still left over in your mouth after Bumblebee’s glossia left it. You then huffed in greedy steaming vents. The air puffing from both your over heated vents so thickly you thought your optics might get obscured by condensation. "What- What's wrong?" Bumblebee murmured through his own haze, voice thick from what he was putting you through. Bright blue optics still laced with obvious concern- even when they were so bright right now it was making you want to cycle your optics just looking in them.

You had to swallow again to try and find your vocalizor. You swore you left it around here somewhere- Before eventually managing to croak out that your spike is pressing against the wrong thing.

His optics widened a touch at the comment, chin dipping against his own chassis to where you were both as flat as you could be against one another. And he saw what you meant almost immediately and cursed quietly. "Sorry- just-" your servos flew onto his hips just when he released yours so he could adjust his position. Your spike slid back against Bumblebee’s own, making you hiss a vent half in relief and half at the contact.

"Better?" Bright blue hovered above your own faceplate. You both huffed and panted while you watched your lovers optics cycle In thought while gazing down into your own.

You said “Yeah” and before the word fully left your mouth Bumblebee’s own crashed back against yours. His servo back on your jaw and other now on the front of your chassis. Black servo trailing against your metal in a heated haze before slipping his glossia back into your mouth. You bucked up against him, while you used your grip on his hips to help guide him with each roll of your hips. Bumblebee whined against you and the heat quickly returned to the tempo it was before the blunder.

You mumbled out his designation as well as you could, trying to tell him you were gonna overload before any spiking even happened-! The gasping half muffled admission only caused Bumblebee to rut more feverishly.

Slag-!

Your servos gripped Bumblebee’s hips harder, dragging him closer to help with his own desperate pace.

Bumblebee’s chassis pressed flat against your frame like glue. Spike dragging sweltering on your own-! And you end up overloading with a muffled groan arching up. All while Bumblebee only made an effort to push you back down into his berth through his own overload. You’re stuck swallowing down a whine that was very much not your own at the end of it. Metal burning against your own and threatening to scorch if heated any further. Soft heady sounds passed between derma with each now lazy buck between one another.

The rutting continued only slightly less urgent now. The wet slide of your spikes only accentuated by each others transfluid.

Bumblebee swallowing around your glossia when his hips jump with a bit more vigor manages to pull an embarrassing noise out of you.

Bumblebee half pulled away to murmur something against your derma. "Spike, Please-" before locking you in another demanding kiss. You had no clue if he was begging you to spike him or if he was begging to spike you.

You could probably find out if he stopped assaulting your mouth and glossia for five fragging klicks-!

Divider support credit: @/cursed-carmine

Wildrider is a mess of energy and chaos and he loves the insanity it can bring. He fully and genuinely believes that he is courting you in the most obvious way possible. And that he is doing the best job he possibly can. I believe I have said this almost verbatim on here before but Wildrider going "hey watch this-!" Before hurling himself into a cliff and destroying some trees with the rebound it causes. As he goes flying through the air the other direction. You know the trope/thing of someone going "Hey this ones for you." Before they shot a hole in one on a Basketball court? Okay for here it's that, but it's the equivalent of Wildrider going "Hey this one's for you-!" [*Misses basketball hoop shot and instead sends the ball crashing through the nearest window and causes a car to crash in the backround*] but like... he thinks he's nailing it. He's so annoying you should probably beat him up for this. And if you're a con like i'm picturing for this, that's just Tuesday for your allies being annoying.

Drag Strip is second on this- however the tricks are more of a happenstance addition to the fact he's primarily trying to be a showboat about his speed. He's obviously showing you who's the fastest- it's him! He might as well throw in some tricks and stunts to make it flashier. He's almost as in his helm with "how well he's nailing this/how he's wooing you" as Wildrider is. Except Drag Strip's self conscious aware enough that he can tell when you aren't paying attention to him. Or if you're extra exasperated with him too. Which only makes him worse in trying to court instead of throwing him off. Because he is not a loser. Drag Strip is. Not. a failure. He'll get into his head about his insecurities with courting you and then it's down hill. Because if Wildriders also trying as obviously as he is they're gonna start crashing into each other. Drag Strip trying to sabotage Wildrider to no avail vs Wildrider having "two birds dancing together in the wild makes them both more desirable" logic about it- So he's all for it. And starts ramming Drag Strip back when it's for your attention.

Dead End. Oh, Dead End. He's kinda fascinating about this because I do actually think he would. Just not 110%-100% about it as the above two. But I think he'd be surprisingly into it as a way to attempt to court. Or at the very least he likes using it as a way to make you look at him. He's not entirely doom and gloom and he does hold value in his own frame. Value he holds decently high for himself and one he puts considerable effort into making look good, and kept up on the by to by. Yes, everything's worthless but he's going to look good doing it so help him. So it's a rather easy (and low effort) way to get your helm turning and your attention onto him and his paint. Which depending on the success can have him putting even more effort into his polishing and subsequently eventually more tricks. Won't sabotage the other two surprisingly but will retaliate if it's brought on him first.

Breakdownnnn. A double sided blade. He might. At least if he sees the rest of them doing it he might as well-! (He'd rather not stay on the sidelines away from everyone else cause he starts thinking about potential getting got chances since he's alone.) He wouldn't employ it often though- he's not starting it first ever either. If it works and your optics are on him then it's a bit of a rush in the good way. But its also a rush in the bad way because your optics are on him. He struggles. Would rather try and court more normal ways (he's bad at it. He's so bad at it. He bails on most planned attempts because he can't get himself to commit at the last moment). But he can also sorta pretend he's just doing stunts with the others and you might see him and think it's cool- but others might also see it. And he usually ends up wiping out/crashing the most in this scenario. (Whether it's one of his multiple frame issues acting up or from him freaking out.)

Motormaster is the least serious about it as an attempt to court and the least likely to do it to begin with. And it's more so a consideration he might make if he's training- or passing time destroying things with the other Stunticons. When you just happen to be near by. It's less something he'll go out of his way to do and more of a- "Well, I'm already here. I'm already at the party. I might as well show off." sort of thought process. Granted it's more in this specific way because Motormaster like... As himself is particular about how he presents himself and his rank. If you're below him in rank or the same rank in the Decepticons then he won't do it to begin with. But that's more him and his view on himself. Why lower himself for it? You should be showing off to him. (Lololol if you're not pinning for him same as he is you, he gets to suffer then.) If you're above him in rank he's more likely to "show off" but he does that in battle as opposed to doing road tricks.

"Indulge" GN Autobot Reader x (TFP) Decepticons Your hot and you can and will kill them [Mature but not explicit]

Smut and the like:

"Indulge" GN Autobot Reader x (TFP) Decepticons Your hot and you can and will kill them [Mature but not explicit]

Sideswipe was getting antsy after your guys last battle with the cons.

Okay maybe "antsy" was the wrong way of putting it. His sparkdamn modesty panel was urging to pop whenever he kept stealing glances at your frame.

Sure, you were pretty easy on the optics- especially for a bot your age. They all fragging knew that. But Sideswipe watched you take down Motormaster so- ruthless wouldn't be the right way to say it. It didn't exactly match the smile on your derma. Or the almost lazy action behind your fighting moves that were critical in putting Cons to work. But you took Motormouth down and you took him down hard.

Sideswipe actually had to stop where he was on the field to gawk at the last couple moments- because frag... you really did know what you were doing. All before you practically flattened the big glitch with how hard you downed him. You only laughing and casually pulled yourself up off the con. Before leaning down to say something to him- a playful grin on your faceplate.

And Sideswipe realized he wanted to fight you. That he needed to spar with you again.

He knew he was being a bit of pervert with the thoughts of sparring.

He'd imagined getting up close and personal when you closed the distance to break his form. The frame to frame contact was the biggest thing his processor kept on imagining when he thought about it. You close- real close. Metal sliding against metal…. His own processor flicking between sparing and actually really getting close and personal with you.

Sideswipe wanted to grab and tug you even closer. But he also knew you'd probably break his hold easy before you'd knock him flat on his sorry aft.

But Sideswipe kinda wanted that too right now...

Primus, Sideswipe needs to self service or 'face soon before he physically asks you to kick his aft for his own enjoyment.

...

But maybe he could just ask you to 'face-? Like... casual?

Sideswipe knows you fool around with the other officers- it was like an open secret.

The way you and Jazz would get real close with each other. No kissing but you'd practically be on top of each other at some points.

Prowl's doorwings were tense and the long looks he'd give you when he thought no one was watching.

Optimus's over expressive finials and his own optics brightening so easily with some of your comments definitely didn't hide much at all.

And It would be stupid to assume you and Ironhide weren't screwing like petrorabbits behind closed doors.

Then Wheeljack accidentally tuning into that last "performance" you'd done with Ratchet just flat out confirmed the rumor.

It had him and some of the others sitting there waiting for the "go" from Prowl to raid the Decepticons.

All while slack jawed hearing you getting your spinal strut bent by Ratchet the whole way through. Loudly and so so hotly the entire time. It was so distracting that they almost missed Prowl's call to charge-! And Sideswipe was left powering through the most annoying bout of charge in his array after hearing you like that. Hearing you both like that. Frag- was older bots being freaks a true stereotype!?

Sideswipe was so fragging upset he wasn't built to make quality audio recordings. Because if he was- he'd have that entire frag session between you and Ratchet burning an echo in his audials with how many times he'd of replayed it directly into them. But nope! Had to be built a war frame without good audial recorders! Forced to simply recall the entire thing from his memory banks!

The things Sideswipe would do for a copy of you moaning like that...

So yeah. That’s definitely part of why he's so heated right now. He's been remembering it and thinking of you on your back with Ratchet on top of ya and you both trading paint so hard the fragging medical slab was creaking- Okay! Sideswipes just gonna go ask! Really he can just ask. You were laid back enough even as his superior officer Sideswipe didn't think you'd do anything. Or be too mad at him if you didn't want to fool around.

You'd probably just say no and maybe tease him for it.

And if you said yes-

Frag. Sideswipe wants you to say yes.

When he finds you, you're in the hallway walking along just reading through a data pad. So Sideswipe smooths his plating to be inviting and he just goes for it. Stepping in your path, making you stop to look up at him.

Your derma just curls into a lazy smile. "Pookie, what can I do for ya?"

Sideswipe’s plating twitches to ruffle wrong in annoyance at the ridiculous pet name you still just kept on using.

He shoves the urge to frown aside and tries to get his game back together from the quick curved lobb ball you'd started with. Throwing him off balance already- he can still win this.

So Sideswipe sighs and smiles, casually placing his servos on his hips and putting his plating back in order to try and visually put out what he wants to ask.

His plating not quite showing the deeper dips to hidden seams but close to it. And it definitely catches your optics. You only look back up with an arched optic ridge. But smiling all the same- only still waiting for him to start talking. So Sideswipe does and starts with your designation before he gets into taking his shot.

"- So, I was just wondering... Autobot to Autobot if you'd maybe be interested in some... under the table training." He smiles, trying to look sultry. "Plus I've been good on keeping myself in one piece recently. Did what ya said and I've been making an effort to stay outta of the medbay- for two weeks even!" Which was true. Sideswipe had almost made it to a month without any major injuries. This was the longest he's gone without a trip to Ratchet since they got to earth. "Don't I deserve- something good- for doing good? Being good."

You just barely tilted your helm to the side- but your optics slightly crinkle in amusement. You subspaced your datapad to bring a now free servo to your faceplate to prop under your derma in thought. "Hm-? Under the table training? And what exactly would this under the table training entail?"

Frag, you just want him to say it, say it.

Maybe Sunny was right and you did get off on embarrassing them all.

But Sideswipe had some scenes to recreate with you that'll match some of those sounds that have been crammed into his processor for days.

"Well, just some... one on one time alone together. We can do the training room- your habsuite, or my habsuite. What do ya say?" Sideswipe feels brave so he takes a step forward and into your space. Leaning closer to you slow but causal and lowering his volume before letting his em field spill against your frame. Sideswipe let's just some of that want, that's been thrumming in his chassis for what feels like forever, slip a lil’.

He keeps optic contact with you realizing he really does like the particular shade your optics are this close.

But he really thinks he'd like them even more if they were a lot brighter.

"You said you're always up for teaching the rest of us what you know as an older bot. So... how about you give me some more teaching of the- fun kind. What do you say?"

You stare at him. At the distance you’re at Sideswipe can see your optics are cycling in thought. Your smile actually disappearing before you exaggeratedly seemed to think to yourself. "Hmmmm." The drawn out hum from you only makes his digits twitch when he thinks about reaching out and making that sound turn into a moan.

Finally you turned your gaze back to him. And your smile returns- but now it's more loaded. "You're cute I'll give you that." His plating twitches under the attention. "But- just that." Your servos find your hips, leaning partially back into his space. "Cute. But I ain't about to be rewarding that type of cute." Oh, fraaaaaag. Sideswipe's plating shifts back to normal and he tries not to let his em field show all his disappointment.

Your servo raises and you waggle your pointer digit at him "I think... I'll let you off with a warning for indecent behavior towards your superior officer." Ugh. Okay fine. Nothing lost, nothing gained then. Except maybe some of Sideswipe's pride.

"Though I am a sucker for spoiling you all. So I'll at least… give you that reward for doing such a good job keeping yourself together. Just this once so you don't back slide into bad habits." Oh, really? Like what-? Sideswipe’s still kinda sour about the rejection and he knows it's not gonna be what he needs from you right now so he sorta glances at the wall.

Absentmindedly wondering what you'd give him instead for his good behavior of behaving and not “Throwing himself into danger at every opportunity on the battlefield”. Which blows- He had more than a couple of ideas just last fight with the Decepticreeps he avoided doing.

His thoughts are cut short when your raised servo reaches out towards him to grab onto his pauldron.

He has half a moment to register your smile curling even more- all before you yank him forward.

Sideswipe not ready for the move at all, almost gets pulled right off his pedes by you. He barely finds his balance when his chassis knocks right up against yours and-

"Hm-!?" Sideswipe’s shock gets muffled when your derma are suddenly just locked against his own. And he barely realizes that part before you casually slip your glossia into his slack mouth! Hello, Primus!?

Sideswipe’s servos latch onto your wrists when your own move to cup the sides of his face. Urging him forward all while your derma press against his own harder. Your derma are soft- frag! Your glossia slides against his own right when your em field slides down his front. It makes his thighs tense, and his next instinctive swallow taste like high grade.

And Sideswipe thinks he might get addicted to the taste of you.

He can't really hold back the throaty sound he makes when your demand intensifies. Glossia pressing against his own and making charge slip down his intake. Derma pressing and only breaking away every few moments to just re connect back to his own again.

Then you pull your glossia back and before he can follow after. And you bite him. Your top denta nips his bottom derma firmly. Not enough to break the top layer but enough to have Sideswipe feeling weak in the knees.

He manages to catch the moan that wants to sound out of his chassis- but you must still feel his em field pulse. Because your own field flexes in bubbly amusement when you smother him yet again back into making out. Sideswipe kisses back- glossia trying to match your intensity. While your em field boldly fans out and against the dips of his own frame.

Just when Sideswipe feels like he's finding some semblance of a strive against ya, you break away leaving him venting in whiffs of steam. "There's your extra special one time reward solider.” You smile better than he probably ever could have when he was trying to flirt. Just the little thing had his plating twitching. “One just for you. For your reward for breaking your record on keeping yourself outta Ratchet’s plates. But also here's your warning. If you repeat the same rule breaking then I'll be forced to punish you for it. And trust me I'll be enjoying it a lot more than you will be." There was an edge to the end of your words. An edge usually reserved for Decepticons right before you really started kicking tailpipe. Theres a hot jolt of charge that volleys right down his frame at the words- Hitting his array with no mercy and full force.

But the heat in your field lowers to barely warmer than what it regularly is. And he's stuck waiting for what you're gonna do next.

Are you taking him to your habsuite- or do you wanna go to his? Or did you actually wanna go to the training room? Or are you gonna kiss him again-?

He’s hanging on every word and he thinks he’ll be thinking about rewards for the next couple of fights.

"So keep being a good boy, and behave. Because that wasn't exactly appropriate on shift behavior from you, solider. Flirting with one of your superior officers- really, Darling?" You tutted your glossia like you were scolding him for it. Like you hadn't just had your glossia on the back of his denta. Your em field was still warm. And Sideswipe could tell you were enjoying yourself this close to him.

"So-" Your digits brushed along his cheeks, your faceplate close to his and the most sultry amused look on your faceplate. And it makes his helm run wild on what he wants to do with you first.

You pull away and your em field fully goes with it. "How about you get back to your habsuite, Pookie? Long day- you could use the rest. Stop flirting with your commanding officers and expecting anything good out of it, alright? And keep yourself together more often. It's good for you." And then you turned on a pede and start walking in the opposite direction of Sideswipe’s habsuite.

And the opposite direction from him.

Sideswipe cycles his optics faster the farther you get away from him.

And then it hits him what just happened and what's happening. "Pookie" hitting him like a piece of shrapnel to the back of the helm.

You- he!? You're just gonna do that and then walk away like nothing even happened!?

Sideswipe’s engine wants to turn over and even rev when he realizes you're turning the corner in the Ark hallway.

But you stop when you realize Sideswipe’s staring. Making optical contact with him again.

All before you smile, bring your digits to your derma, and blow him a kiss. "Don't stay up late now, Doll." it’s almost sung.

And just as quickly as that hits him you’re turning around the corner and leaving-!

Sideswipe’s engine does rev this time and he's running now. Running after you and making an effort not to transform on instinct to chase faster. You can't just do that and leave-! Oh, Sideswipe was gonna get you back for that-! He can't get in trouble for it right? You started it!

His processor is running as fast as he is and he's thinking about what he's gonna do when he catches up to you.

All before Sideswipe turns the corner in a rush and nearly slams into a mech.

The Mech isn't you.

It's Prowl.

Standing there and jerking backwards when Sideswipe almost runs into him full speed.

Ah-!

Sideswipe’s em field pulled back quick enough he made himself flinch at the rush backwards it had done.

But it still apparently wasn't a fast enough abort that Prowl didn't feel exactly how he was feeling right then and there.

Prowl's optics cycled and he slowly and mechanically looked over his own pauldron.

When he spotted you Prowl's wings flicked once, then tilted before he turned back to Sideswipe.

Uh oh.

Sideswipe knew just enough wing speak from Bluestreak and Smokescreen to know that was not a good sign.

"Sideswipe... If you have enough time to even entertain such thoughts- let alone seriously consider them; you have enough time to be placed on a double position today." Sideswipes optic’s snapped wide at the words. All while Prowl, the sadist he was, just kept on talking-! "Which will be starting now due to your apparent lack of discipline. You're expected at the front of The Ark with Hound in less than five klicks." Sideswipe bit back the urge to curse, not wanting to give Prowl the satisfaction of his frustration. He sure as slag wasn't about to spill what had just happened to Prowl of all bots-!

So he forced himself turn to go do exactly that. Chanting curses in his processor instead of muttering them. While Prowl just turned and walked back over towards you.

Sideswipe only stopped when he was about to turn the corner fully, to look back in your direction.

Prowl was talking to you now- you only chuckling and saying something that made Prowl’s door wings readjust.

That should be fragging him-! Sideswipe scowled when he watched you actually lean closer to Prowl to tease him about something.

But you must've felt Sideswipe looking because your helm turned his way. Making the two of you make optic contact again.

Your derma curled further and you just offlined one optic to wink at him.

He had to physically restrain himself from giving into the very real urge to chase after you again and show you exactly how much he appreciated it. (He doesn't know if he would be more upset if you kicked his aft for it or if you didn't)

"Sideswipe." Prowl reminded him he was in trouble and also being watched- by Prowl's now very hard stare.

So Sideswipe huffed and turned on his pede to go do his double.

He wasn't exactly able to get the memory of your glossia in his mouth out of his processor for the rest of his double shift.

Divider support credit: @/cursed-carmine

⦉Summary ❥ ⦊ Meeting Ironhides courted and settling to dismiss a small crush. While Chromia gets on Ironhides aft for not confessing yet.

⦉Genre/theme 𖥔 ⦊ Romantic yearning/Misunderstandings, It also gets a bit horny at the end

⦉Warnings ✘➥ ⦊ Perceived unrequited feelings (Reader doesn't let 'em get them down though, Ironhide and Chromia squabble a bit

⦉Pronouns ★ ⦊ You, Your, Yours, Them, They

⦉Notes ✚ ⦊ Older Flirty Reader, Reader admits to having a little bit of a crush on Ironhide in their own thoughts, gets a little horny at the end when Chromia says "-inbetween the two of us." To Ironhide.

Y’know getting accidentally booted to cybertron wasn't in any of your guys plans. But whatever- you kicked Shockwave's aft down a ledge and you'd gotten to socialize with the other Autobots. Some you knew personally, others you didn't. One who you didn't know was Chromia.

Before you even knew who she was, you all watched her yank Ironhide into a kiss on the derma. It was the more- intimate kind of kiss.

And you all stood there in sudden stunned silence as she pulled away and introduced herself and said she was courting Ironhide.

Which… was certainly something.

Inferno hurriedly whispered to you asking if you'd known he was courting anybody.

To which you quickly whispered back you had no fragging clue either.

So after that quick excitement you'd all moved to finishing things up here before you all went back to earth.

You'd decided to socialize with some of the femmes since you wouldn't be seeing any of them for a while. You'd gradually floated from femme to femme through the base as the time went on. From Greenlight, To Firestar, To Elita even, to the point the only femme you hadn't managed to track down yet was Chromia. Moonracer had seen you wandering and you'd asked if she'd known where she went because you wanted to be friendly.

Moonracer told you exactly where she was, which was in their newly made canteen area. So you'd found Chromia there drinking alone and after grabbing your own cube you'd slid right into the chair across from her at her table. Which- she seemed tense from the start. That or awkward. Trying to keep up with the light casual talk you'd started up with her. Her expression just slightly forced in a way you could just tell.

And you'd thought it was going rather well- or at least you did until your optics caught the fact Chromia was sneaking something underneath the table.

Something suspiciously detonator shaped.

"Ah, going to create a disaster to get away from me?" She paused immediately; some semblance of surprise in her optics. You tutted and pushed your knuckles up under your chin while worrying your optic ridge dramatically. "And here I thought I was being such a charming guest that I'd at least get through one cube; before any well timed and totally unsuspicious events occurred." You shook your helm slowly. "For shame... Though you must tell me what I'd done wrongly enough for the... rather explosive present" you smiled at her.

But she smirked before pulling what you could now tell was undeniably a detonator out from under the table. "Ah- caught. Didn't think you'd have optics still sharp enough to spot something like that." The lack of blinking on the explosive show'd she had yet to activate the timer to use it.

She subspaced it before her servo reached for her cube again. A new focus now present in her optics. "What did you say your designation was again?"

"I didn't." But you kept friendly and gave her it anyway.

Once your designation left your derma, something perked in her optics.

Recognition.

Ah. How did she know you? Or know of you better.

Her smirk turned into a proper smile and she chuckled. "Oh- Well it's nice to finally meet you properly. Ironhide’s told me about you for the longest time." Ah.

"Only pure riveting and positive things I'm sure." You flashed her smile that you'd tended to give when you couldn't be damned to hide the fact that you might be up to something.

"Oh, surely." Chromia sipped her cube. "Told me all about that one time you'd- oh, so purely- somehow managed to stuff a live petrorabbit into his chassis compartment when he was in recharge."

You chuckled at the slightly older memory of the entire debacle.

Ironhide hadn't realized the mechanimal was even there until you'd both gone to get your rations. The petrorabbit having gotten fussy at that point, and had knocked open Ironhide’s chest compartment from the inside out. You were at least quick enough to catch Ironhide’s cube when he dropped it. While he fumbled to catch the petrorabbit suddenly hanging out of his front. "Oh, an oldie but a goodie." You tilted your glass as the energon swirled around in its cube, following your touch. "It's also good to meet Ironhide’s sparkmate. We hadn't known he managed to actually court somebody till we saw you both kissing each other."

Her smile immediately dropped.

It wasn't into a scowl or such but her derma flattened and the amusement that had been twinkling in her optics all but died. "… You didn't?" Oh dear.

She seemed a bit... perturbed. Ah, a touch annoyed she'd been kept under wraps was she? Ironhide would be in for it later.

"No, kept that one to himself. You know how he is though. Always keeping the softer parts of him to himself." Ironhide, gruffer and not exactly a mech to share the heavier stuff all too often. He'd been that way almost as long as you'd known him. But honestly you were glad Ironhide had a someone like that at all. And the fact it was someone who's great for him made it even easier to accept. Chromia really did just seem to fit right next to Ironhide.

A smile climbed onto her faceplate and it was strained. She laughed but it sounded just a touch devoid of humor. "Oh- don't I certainly." Your own smile curled a touch as you in real time watched Ironhide inadvertently getting himself into hot slag.

Her expression finally slacked when she sighed heavily and brought her servo up to pinch the space between her optics. She pulled away and put her cube down on the table with a touch more force than necessary. Causing some drips to bounce out of the cube and onto the table. "I'll have to- straighten him out… before we ship you guys back to that blue planet of yours."

"Ah, I'd ask you to be gentle with him but I know that approach doesn't exactly tend to work with Ironhide." You nodded before clasping your servos together onto your own cube in front of yourself and half bowed to Chromia. Servos around your cube held up like how humans tended to pray to their gods. "So instead I'll ask that you at least keep him in one piece."

Her actual smile returned- now more reserved but it found itself back on her derma regardless. "No promises. But if I do take any pieces off of him I'll keep them in a box, so your medic will be able to put him back together afterwards." The slight amusement in her optics returned now accompanied by an almost cutthroat glint to it. It coupled together with her faceplate in a complementary way. Making her look like even more of a powerful beauty-

Ah, you shouldn't be entertaining that little thought. Not while you were having the last cube you'd be having with Ironhide's courted for a while. You were all going to be sent back to earth in a few joors.

Exploring that little thought would definitely be saved for a lonely night in your habsuite instead. It can slot together neatly along with your other- innocent daydreams of the other bots you so commonly entertained those sorta thoughts with.

Chromia smiled and you could feel your optics focus on how it framed her face so well. You offered an honest smile back, not letting the lower blues settle into frame. You were genuinely happy for Ironhide and you were genuinely glad for Chromia.

"Cheers to a lovely future." You raised your nearly empty cube casually "One we can hopefully enjoy together and the Decpticons disbanded."

Chromia huffed a laugh and knocked her cube lazily against your own. "Well there's a dream I can get behind. Cheers" You both knocked back the rest of your cubes in one go. Afterwards you made optic contact again and held it for a moment before you both chuckled.

You made sure to keep your energy the same level and mood as you chatted away the rest of your time together. There's no point in moping on the impossible maybes anyhow. You were old enough to know better than that. Getting upset over impossibilities and closed doors- You had plenty more enjoyable things to indulge in than the blues.

So you guess your little crush will just have to stay a maybe in another universe…

One that's not this one anyway.

Ironhide was taking stock of what they'd be taking back with them. A few items only, since Optimus didn't want to be taking resources they'd probably be needing more here than they'd be needin' on earth. But Elita was damn fragging persistent if nothing else. So they compromised and they were taking some tech and other materials they couldn't be getting, or making back on earth.

Or Ironhide was taking stock until Chromia said his designation and made him turn.

"Ironhide."Chromia's voice was clipped, but not mad yet- just yet anyway... Aw, slag.

"Yeah-?" Ironhide knew they'd missed each other but he hadn't exactly done nothing to warrant genuine rage outta his courted.

At least he didn’t fragging think so.

"Ironhide- have you not fragged them yet?" And Ironhide realized it was a look of frustrated disbelief on Chromia’s faceplate.

Ironhide cycled his optics and scrunched his olfactory at the blunt question and also in confusion.

Who the frag-?

Ironhide remembered you’d said ya were gonna be acquainting yourself to the femmes for the next joor.

And Ironhide just knew she was talking about you.

Oh, Primus-

“Ironhide." Chromia stressed his designation rough and her frame stepped closer towards himself. There was a sharpness to her that Ironhide hadn't been on the receiving end in a sparkdamn while.

He snapped his gaze away and glared at the wall. Before gritting out the truth. "No-!"

"Ironhide- Really!?

"Oh, like it's so easy! Why don't you do it then!?"

"I just might if you don't get off your sorry aft and tell them how you feel!" Chromia pinched the area between her optics "I can't believe you- trapped on a distant planet with them for actual centuries-! And you still haven't confessed!"

"Things haven't exactly been some fancy ol' vacation away from the war, Chromia! We've been fighting the cons! We've been busy! And we were in stasis for all those centuries!" Ironhide pointed out. He'd only had a few human years to try and get the point across. Not even a vorn! Let alone a decavorn!

"Oh, don't give me that! You've known them longer than you've known me! And-" Chromia latched onto Ironhides arm making him look back up to catch her gaze. "I know sparkdamn well you've been loving them long before you ever loved me."

Disbelief and a heavy feelin' he didn't enjoy feelin much’ at all knocked him one right in the chassis. "Chromia-!"

"Oh, don't try and give me any slag about that Ironhide." Chromia leveled him with an unimpressed look. "What friend had to listen to your freak out when you first realized you liked them like that?"

Ironhide’s optic ridge creased having to remember the embarrassing fragging event. They weren’t even courting at the time- Ironhide knows they weren’t even flirting with the idea either yet. But he opened his mouth to confirm the fact anyway. "You-"

"Who exactly was it who listened to you bemoan about not knowing what to do about your not so little cyberpuppiod crush?"

Ironhide scowl became a frown "You-"

"And who the frag was it who you looked in the optics before you got on The Ark and who you told you were finally gonna tell them how you felt sooner then later?"

Frag- She remembered that too? Even though it was so much longer ago for her then it was for him?

Ironhide sighed his shoulder struts slacking "You."

"Yeah, that exactly-!" Chromia thunked a digit pad right against his windshield glass. "And I have had to sit and watch you drag your pedes and fumble your way around your feelings for them this entire time! And I'm telling you to finally get off your aft and tell them!"

"I can't Chromia-" she just didn't understand it-!

"Don't start using 'can't' when you mean 'won't' ironhide!"

"I don't wanna ruin it!" Ironhide snapped and when he saw Chromias expression and realized what he just fragging said.

"Ironhide what do you mean?"

His jaw shut closed firm with a click.

He tore his gaze away and glared at the wall.

"Ironhide."

The way it was said made him at least look back at her.

She was calmer and a touch softer but still with an undertone of firmness.

He finally just cursed under his vents before steeling himself. "Fine- fine! I don't wanna ruin... I don't wanna ruin what we've got. There- fragging happy?"

Chromia stared at him for a few moments before she deflated. Her plating fallin’ back down where it had been raised in irritation. Her posture wasn't as invasive either. She stood up straight instead of squaring like she was ripe and ready to grab him and teach him what not. "Ironhide- it's not a friendship ending event. And even if it were the way you talk about them, I know exactly how close the two of you are. Something as benign as you catching feelings shouldn't ruin the literal vorns you've been friends."

Ironhide furrowed his optic ridge at the comment. "That's exactly my sparkdamn problem, Chromia." he sighed heavy before he scrubbed his servo over his faceplate. "We're close- we're so close it just makes it so much fragging harder." If you weren't as close as you were with each other Ironhide woulda confessed nearly as soon as he fragging realized he even felt that way about ya. But- you knowing him so well. And him knowing you so well...

It made it messier.

Chromia shared a stare with him.

Her optics searching through his own frame.

Before she finally sighed, and broke her gaze with him. "Fine. You are actually scared." Ironhide’s plating clamped down on himself.

"I ain't-!"

"Oh- what are you then Ironhide?"

"That..." Ironhide’s engine growled and he grabbed the back of his neck with a palm. "I'm just fragging... cautious."

One of Chromia’s optical ridges arched. "Literal vorns worth cautious?"

Ironhide didn't respond.

"Okay- okay. Look. I'm not gonna say I get it. I don't exactly have experience in this exact sort of situation. But- Ironhide. Don't you think that you should tell them so you don't regret anything?"

....

Would he regret it more then he would if he did end up ruining what you had now?

A servo on his gauntlet made him refocus. Chromia was closer and she moved to grab his servo between both of her own. She squeezed- not painfully tight but grounding. Something warm brushed over his front and Ironhide was laxing when it curled around his frame. Chromia’s em field was touching him light but sure.

"Now you wanna act like a kicked turbofox? I'll let you. But only for a bit." Her digits rubbed over his servo. "Because I know you want to do this and I know sparkdamn well you're strong enough to do it." She leaned up and kissed him one right on the derma. Ironhide’s optic ridge stopped pulling together so tight. When she pulled back she let go of his servo. "Even if I'm gonna have to kick your aft into gear every time you start dawdling again."

Ironhide sighed and let his em field push back against her own. Letting his own field do the talking for him when his glossia wasn't working too well.

Chromia’s own expression soothed in response all before she smiled. "I didn't even know them before. But now that I know how much of a catch they are- You better get your hold on them before someone else does. I've seen just how the other Autobots here have been looking at them- pit Ironhide! some of the femmes have been taken in by them too and they haven't even been here for a full cycle!"

Her slight amusement peaking against him made Ironhide scoff. "They're always like that, Chromia. They ain’t exactly all too shy about being friendly with everyone or making themselves comfortable with almost anyone." You enjoyed being yourself and most things wouldn't ever stop ya from doing that.

Ironhide’s known ya too damn long to assume ya were ever gonna change about that.

"Well..." Chromia moved her servos to her own hips before her smile curled just a bit more at her derma. The sudden brush of heat against his front that came after made Ironhide still. "I think they'd look real nice in between the two of us."

"Huh-?!" Ironhide must have heard her wrong because- because what the frag?! You can't just go and charm Chromia too!

Chromia was only amused when Ironhide’s disgruntled em field pressed back on her own. Her smile curlin’ sultry instead. "What? Not like you're the only one who thinks that old flirt is a bit cute. C'mon at least picture it with me Ironhide. I’ll take their mouth cause out of the two of us you deserve their aft with the way you've been staring at it when you think no one's looking."

Ironhide’s optics brightened and his plating fluffed. He'd only looked once the entire time you'd been here-! And even then he only fragging did it because you were bent over helping Inferno with something! Ironhide didn't just make a fragging habit of- gawking at your behind like some pervert-!

"Chromia-!"

"Ironhide." Her servo reached out before her digits started trailing light against his chassis. "Them gasping and making all sorts of sweet sounds for us." Chromia traced over the edge of his windshield glass. The warmth of Chromia’s own charged interest threatened to run over Ironhide’s own field the longer the conversion continued.

His own processor stuck picturing exactly what she was telling him to.

"That nice shade of paint they've got getting a little bit sullied with a very fine nice shade of... pink?" Her digit caught on his windshield wiper- and she dragged her digit pad over it real slow like, before she started pressing down against it. "And that damn smile of theirs just fragged out of them… Doesn't that sound real nice?" Her em field spiking a bit in warmth when Ironeshide’s own involuntarily popped a bit in activity at the imagery.

Because it sound a bit more than just fragging nice to him.

"You've still got a joor here..." she stepped closer again her frame pressing up against his own now. "Wanna do a quickie and swap thoughts and ideas on what we wanna do to them?" A rush went right down Ironhide’s spinal-strut at the idea.

And Ironhide knew he was gonna be needing to take back his own internal comment about not being a pervert real quick...

Divider support credit: @/cursed-carmine

If Prime isn’t on the battlefield for any reason Megatron at least knows he’ll get a worthy fight if you're there. It's also tantamount to accepting failure on a mission if he allows you to operate freely on the battlefield unchecked. He knows only Soundwave or himself stands a proper chance of infringing on your objectives in a fight. Simultaneously irksome and exhilarating, the fact that you're such a capable warrior. A mech of few words that knows what they want. And that’s to snuff his spark. He's more than once attempt to play into your good graces- with words and promises. It was always futile. He'd offered to once give you anything you'd wanted if you joined The Decepticons. You'd asked "anything?" To which Megatron assured.

You'd then proceeded to ask him to die for you before rushing him yet again. He can't help but admire the pragmatism.

It reminds him of the arena- the pit. But more akin to his earlier years. When he was still finding his strive. Having to stay on guard, lest he be killed by one misjudgment on an attack aimed right for him. The brutality of your strikes. The way you come after him with the sole intention of killing him. It's not one he faces very often with Prime. No... you're a warrior through and through. You're ruthless. Especially so for an Autobot. But the ruthless core of your actions is simply a by product of your cold disposition. A detached indifference to the energon you spill, and the damage you deem necessary to inflict on another mech. Truly, a one mech army. A commendable opponent and one well deserving of his time.

Your looks are simply another discrepancy to your lethality. Most bots who are that up on their own up keep, tended to be vain. Not willing to risk serious damage to their frame (like Knock-out). But instead they simply sat as an accessory to your status as a fighter. He'd taken note of it the first time you'd fought- it had lead to his downfall when he'd made the very lethal mistake of underestimating you. Megatron has entertained the thought of his victory over you. Of beating you truly and claiming you utterly and thoroughly. Occasionally envisioning Prime there having to watch what he does to one of his mechs. Or even desecrating you as completely as possible. Breaking your modesty panel off of you, leaving his trace on every plate of yours, and discarding your battered and used frame for Prime to find.

There were certainly a prime number of choices- ones Megatron had zero qualms in indulging. And none he wouldn't hesitate to put into practice when he finally bests you.

Call Starscream every name In the book! He knows not to take chances with you around. And he doesn’t feel bad about being insulted over his rightful caution. Especially not when Decepticons that didn’t take the same cautions, were woefully unprepared for the damn force of nature you were on the battlefield. Most either being injured badly enough to know to never make the same mistake again. Or they certainly never would, because you’d deactivated them and didn’t allow them the second chance to begin with. He will retreat as quickly as possible considering whatever circumstances he finds himself in with you in proximity to him. No! He does not squeal when you show up out of seemingly nowhere- Knock-out! He's simply- surprised you are as well- covert as you were. That's all!

He'll fight you if he has to of course. (When turning his back on you was much more dangerous than facing you helm on.) He feels like he's been forced into a spar with Megatron! He's on his heels and doing his damnedest just to survive. You don't even dignify him with hello- or "stop right there con-!" No, nothing! He can't fluster you into giving him even a micro fraction of leeway. You still have that cold detached expression on your faceplate regardless of what he says. The only thing he has if you pin him, is utterly and completely groveling and begging. Pleading for mercy is the only thing that gives you slight hesitancy in just outright killing him. And it is groveling on a level that Starscream barely ever even employs with Megatron. His optics might be leaking coolant. Though you always leave him alive when he refuses to fight you back- you also always brutalize him. You without fail sever his connection to his own wings. A fate he's had to multiple times suffer the long repair of. (The fragging agony of-!). A servo full of times was more than enough for an entire function for Starscream!

And yes there is some rather telling... discrepancy between your looks and your lethality. But attractive faceplate and frame aside- any mech has the capability of being lethal. He's attempted to praise you for said looks to appease you (to no avail). And perhaps- perhaps mind you, Starscream occasionally... reflects in a more perverse manner. His thoughts tend to drift towards servitude. Not to you! No- no-! Of you to him. Of you seeing the error of your Autobot thinking and simply- pledging your loyalty to him. Swearing servitude to him. On your knees and servos willing to do anything to please him. Having a mech such as yourself to his beck and call, only concerned with anything you could do to satisfy his ideals, his plans, his needs. To have such a powerful bot readily following his every command. It is quite the... thrilling fantasy to indulge in.

It's not something Starscream ever entertains seriously- only on very lonely charge heavy nights. Because surly there was no chance you'd never have an epiphany of such a drastic sort. But there's no harm in a mech having ideals... now is there?

He sees you sometimes before he even hears you. Which is a fact in it of itself to how dangerous you were. Soundwave didn't know how you did it. You were just as cybertronian as the rest of them. Yet it was hard to hear your mass- even the ever light sound of your plating shifting. Even after this long at war he still has trouble pin pointing your exact location, before you deliberately make yourself known. Full sneak attacks are only something he ever has to worry about because of your existence. The reason he'll stay on his pedes outside of The Nemesis when you could be anywhere. There aren't many who can match him on the field. There were even less who could actively make Soundwave work as physically hard as you do.

There's a bit of a thrill to it all, having a competent opponent. It is a minuscule amount of enjoyment mind you. The only reason he leaves The Nemesis is when he has a mission. Mission that you have no problem or hesitancy in blocking or even destroying his progress on. You are the biggest problem above Optimus Prime himself. Simply because Optimus Prime will focus on Megatron if he has to choose between him or Soundwave. While you will make the effort to fight both of them simultaneously to keep either one of them from leaving your focus. It's the closest he's come to seeing you fighting up hill. But you still never allow either of them to inflict lethal damage onto you. A small part of himself has vowed to beat you. He does note he has the least amount of audio recordings of your vocalizor saved out of any of the Autobots. Even less than your medic. He doesn’t know why that very fact irks him.

The fact that you're a rather attractive bot hasn't been one he's paid too much attention to. For the first couple of decades you've been an enemy to The Decepticons anyway. The longer you proven yourself a problem- the longer you prove yourself a major player in the war; the more noticeable the fact becomes. At this stage of the war on earth, Soundwave has more than once (on his down time and privacy), envisioned a proper victory over you. Since it's fantasy and no more he let's himself indulge on not immediately killing you. Instead holding you down with his servos and body weight, before using his prehensile cables to explore over your frame. Explore your array too. Making a point to use the recordings of your own allies voices to splice some choice mockery; Over the state you've become.

Fantasy is fantasy. Soundwave knows and he knows he wouldn't hesitate to properly take care of you if he ever had the opportunity to deactivate you... surely he would.

There's bots she knows she should be wary of and bots Airachnid knows she needs to be very prepared for if she's going to cross them. You fit slotted perfectly in the latter category. You were merciless, unforgiving, and determined... A mech after her own spark. Troublesome that you were cross faction from one another. She finds she'd more than likely enjoy your interactions if you'd both bore the same badge- at a point in time anyway. What with her solo work. But wistful and rather pointless daydreaming aside- she has a strut to pick with you. As do you her, though you seem to treat any enemy with the exact level of violence you deem necessary. Oh, it is a marvel to watch you work through mechs. Less so being the one on the receiving end of your icy glare. But she was a hard bot to pin down.

She rather finds herself growing frustrated when you utterly and truly do not seem too emotional invested in much of anything. Though the ferocity in which you attack shows anything but. Which in turn only annoys her further, the longer she begins to even consider the very notion that you'd find her not worth your emotions. But you care. Oh, you care. About your team mates. She's seen the look in your optics when you'd last rescued Arcee right before Airachnid could sink her claws into her spark chamber. Your expression much the same as always, but the look in your optics was ferocious. Like a beast more than a mech staring her down and daring her to run so you can give chase. She finds herself having to make solutions on the very spot lest she actually be captured and slaughtered for sport. It's a touch exhilarating- a pain absolutely. But the rush she gets when she realizes she'd gotten away from you. Oh, it is delicious.

She's used to being the hunter, not the hunted. Oh, but you? You're no prey. You're a predator. She might even say apex if she was feeling so generous. Something she laments when you've clearly got such a lovely "coat". The things she could do to you. The things she would do to you given the proper chance. She'd play with you. And she would thoroughly enjoy her time pulling you apart plate- by plate. How you'd squirm. How you'd gasp. How you'd groan. How you'd beg. She would indulge but she wouldn't kill you however. No, you were a prize fair enough and a tribulation great enough- she'd keep you. As her personal pet. You should feel honored, truly. A title in her vorns of function she's only ever entertained bestowing Arcee. She'd keep both of you as her lap cyberhounds if she was ever given the opportunity to do so. Airachnid has-… practice breaking new projects in. She would just positively adore breaking her two personal pet projects in.

Details- and options. So so many options on how she could play with you if you did end up in her claws. Till then she can make note of her ideals as a diligent reminder.

Knock Out utterly despises you. Yes, dangerous, a menace in a fight. With a cold calculated nature that’s much more in tune with a hardened Con than any soft sparked Autobot. (And soft sparked you were anything but.) And most of all Knock out cannot forgive the outrageous fact that you look that good while doing all of it. Knock out likes to play with his food but you tend not to dally in any way. Strikes and coming after them (himself included) as soon as you’d gotten the opportunity to make yourself a problem for them. Cold and to the point, no affection for talking or some good fashioned banter. Gaze sharp and not even dignifying any of them with a proper emotional reaction. As if Knock out wasn’t worth the effort to give him anything other than that cold calculated gaze of yours.

It infuriated Knock out more than he’d let anyone know.

But petty spite and hang ups aside Knock out was still a medic. One of the best The Decepticons had to offer, clearly. And certainly no slouch in a fight or with his energon prod. But a medic none the less. He was far from a push over in a fight. But Knock out wasn’t delusional enough to think he’d be able to take you down with anything other than luck and a very good shot. He’s seen you get into it with Megatron himself. Megatron actually gets excited when he sees you in a fight. That is an automatic "No thank you" from him. So he delegates himself to not sticking around when and if you make yourself known in a fight. Because you weren’t worth the helm ache and the utterly egregious amount of damage you can and will deliver upon him given the opportunity.

Though Knock out was an opportunist. And even he couldn't deny exactly how fetching your frame and chassis were, aesthetically anyway. He's not exactly shy in his admiring. You don't exactly seem to mind, and if you did you haven't made a point to say anything about it. (Or increase the already present brutality in your actions.) He does fantasize about getting a hold of you. Maybe after Megatron got a lucky shot. Or some other extremity that allowed your capture. Regardless, you end up in Knock out’s grasp either way. And he would thoroughly take his up most care in positively ruining your paint job. Both in salacious ways and also maybe in more sadistic methods of indulgence. Finishing his work off with carving "Knock out was here" with a claw either on your inner thigh or directly above your modesty panel.

Knock-out positively adored breaking things up and taking them apart. Even more so when he breaks something pretty and handsome all at the same time. How invigorating it is to watch premium bots fall oh so very low...

It’s the drum of the fight that keeps Breakdown going when the energon starts spilling like a broken undercarriage, more often than not. He keeps going, he keeps fighting, he survives. And he counts his deeds and his damages after every fight. To keep himself ready for the inevitable next. But all the prep in the sparkdamn world, still wouldn’t make him feel like he’s ever actually ready to go pede to pede with you on the battlefield. But slag rarely ever cared if you actually were ready or not to fight for your fragging survival in war. So Breakdown grits his denta and does his damnedest to not get turned into scrap, when you decide to clash with him. Breakdown wasn’t a rookie, he was a wrecker for frags sake. He's been a front liner long after that. So he knew a thing or two about fighting and his way around a war zone.

And despite that all Breakdown still feels like he’s treading water to stay functional whenever your cold optics lock onto him. Your demeanor compared to your frame might be jarring to some- well, he knows better. Especially when he’s worked with Knock out for however many vorns and seen how sadistic the medic can be when he wants to. That an attractive frame didn’t mean slag about the bot actually strutting around in it- Airachnid is another example of the same fragging thing. Sure, it’s a bit of a trip up seeing how good you can look practically slathered in energon. And your weapon still brandished promising to add to the amount you were already drenched in. But Breakdown isn’t dumb enough to let it distract him when those optics of yours are trained right on him.

In terms of fantasy- okay maybe maybe Breakdown lets himself indulge in a little bit of his imagination when he actually has the time to treat himself. How that frame of yours might look even better underneath his own. Him actually managing to break that cold expression always on your faceplate with how he uses you. He thinks you'd look sweet with that cold look fragged out of you. Or maybe your weapon underneath his own chin. And you ordering him on his knees in the middle of a battlefield with only the two of you left on it. But again Breakdown isn’t fragging stupid enough to let them be anything other than late night fantasies. You’ll just be his... dirty little self service secret. It's also why he keeps his mouth shut when he hears Knock out growl "Oh, the things I would do to them-!" Under his vents after a class with you.

Breakdown can deal with his attraction to Airachnid or any other con just fine. But… you were the sinfully sweet thing caught underneath his armor he didn't have a problem keeping hidden (for himself only anyway.)

There are many opponents Dreadwing has heard the tale of through the Decepticon ranks. The Prime himself the most exalted and hated- scorned. For what he is. For what he represents. For what he is not. But you? You were spoken of with fear. Tales from bots seemingly haunted by the mere encounter. Tales from those bragging about having simply survived crossing paths with you. The ones most taken by fear would speak quickly and in a panic, hushed words. As if you were some fictional pit spawn. (And not a real tangible enemy, any of them may face.) As if somehow you would hear the words your enemies spoke of you. As if you would hear the hearsay spoke within the ranks from wherever you presently were; and hunt them down yourself for the mere transgression of slander. He always scoffed at the notion- tales were tales for a reason. They were built on speculation and emotion- and in this case gossip.

Though be that as it may, Dreadwing would have done well to heed the many warnings told to him time and time again. He may have been at least a fraction more prepared. When he had learned that monsters from tales are typically inspired by the horrors of reality. You'd almost killed him- he was woefully unprepared and had even underestimated you; when he had seen with his own optics that you were a real mech. Not a ounce of pity or even scorn on your faceplate when your were halfway through ripping his spark out. Covered in his and other troops energon. He was only saved when your attention was driven elsewhere- when Megatron had gotten a hold of your ally. You abandoned him immediately to rescue them. Dreadwing learned well enough never to allow his guard to drop around you, lest he be killed on the spot. A frightful opponent and one well deserving of the tales spun of them.

Your... appearance he will admit rather shamefully was a part of the reason he had underestimated you as much as he had. Yes, you were clearly capable- with the energon you had spilled and the weapon you brandished unflinching at him. But there was a particular... credence to a way warriors had a tendency to look. A mold you did not entirely fit- a bot he would believe he would have seen on an advertisement when Cybertron was still populated and functional to a degree. Maybe a film. Not one he would be actively struggling not to perish to. With a faceplate that is something even he would- in the privacy of his thoughts- admit to finding... attractive. The ferocity and danger of your being only seemed to accentuate your beauty. A plague on his thoughts off the battlefield. And on it when he has a particularly close encounter with you. He does not indulge too much- (you were a filthy Autobot after all!) But even Dreadwing can't help his thoughts wandering when he self services to take the edge off. Your derma, the shape of your frame, that sharp cutting gaze of yours. Your very being a bewitching, perilous, and handsome call.

The very fatal attraction that Dreadwing simply cannot seem to shake in his more heated lunar cycles of privacy. It threatens to haunt him and cause his own demise.

There are a multitude of bots who need to be kept on high surveillance on the battlefield and off the battlefield. Powerful figures who can turn the tides of battle, and who are to be treated with caution. Mechs who are of high interest and high resource deficit to handle. Optimus Prime was the second Autobot on Shockwave's priority list. The first Autobot on his priority list would be you. You were a stalwart in the Autobot faction and had been for the entirety of your enlisting. Cunning, efficient, and hazardous to any Decepticon you deemed your opponent. A helmache to him when you would turn your attention onto him. Or his projects, if Shockwave happened to be your objective. A mech he will not hesitate to shoot first if he registers you in his peripheral. His chances of survival drastically decrease if he would entertain anything less.

Your pragmatism is something that- bothers his allies to a... substantial degree. In Shockwave’s case he recognizes the mutual comprehension, you seem to wordlessly share with one another. Even as enemies. You are going to strive to kill him. He is going to fight while simultaneously attempting to do the same to you. There is nothing less or more to bother with. Unless you are aiming to destroy his progress or projects. In which case he will need to be twice as proactive to prevent total destruction of his works. Something you have... no grievances in partaking in. The efficiency in which you are capable of operating that particular endeavor leaves Shockwave a touch... irritated. He can't recall any other bot who's made him squeeze his own fist harsh enough he’s popped a digit joint lose.

Neither can he recall himself even- entertaining more then necessary procedures. He's well aware it would be a waste of time. He would kill you first and foremost if he had the opportunity. However, rather perplexingly, Shockwave finds himself becoming- fixated. On particular opportunities he could partake in if Lord Megatron left you as his responsibility after you'd been subdued. Perhaps Shockwave would be- given the order by Lord Megatron to... Indulge. Something Shockwave has found Lord Megatron had a frequency of doing- employing acts for seemingly nothing more than… his own sadism. The possibility was quite high considering Lord Megatron’s pension for such decisions. Logically Shockwave had taken it on himself to then find what would account as “Indulgence” under such a hypothetical order. Opening you up and mapping out your internals would be a possible conclusion. To find out the logistics of what made you such a competent soldier. What he could not see on the surface with only his base optical output. What made you, you.

What made you whole.

… Shockwave believes he may be able to fulfill such an order to Indulge when he imagines your faceplate overwhelmed and your optics brightened. Responding to his touch and his experimental- maintenance.

Dividers credit: @/cursed-carmine,