#devastator x reader

• Turning as he stares at you dressed in his, their, colors, he drops the other mech that had insulted him. Or one of his constituent parts? It gets confusing sometimes. Ignoring as the other mech swears at him before limping away, he lowers himself to his knees and you stumble back slightly, expression anxious. “Mine,” he growls, his other hand landing near you as he reaches and you panic. Trying to run as his servos carefully close on you. ‘Wait!’ You yelp as he lifts you higher so he can see you better. And his hand opens. Watching you tremble in his palm. ‘You can’t just grab people like that without warning,’ you say as he vents.

• And you fall over in his hand when he eases back to sit heavily, his other hand lifting to run the tip of a servo against your chest as he checks out your new combiner themed coveralls with a rumble. Trying unsuccessfully to push his servo away, you huff out a breath. “That includes humans and other Cybertronians,” you add as those red optics stare at you. You’re pretty sure you’re wasting your time trying to lecture them when they’re in this form. Gasping when you’re lifted suddenly and you fall over in his hand again, he’s pressing you flat by brushing his mouth against your body as you shove at his big face. “Do you remember the personal space talk? Boundaries?” Mixmaster had laughed his head off when you’d tried to lay down the law with them. The rest had just looked amused.

• “Tiny conjunx,” he rumbles as you push at his chin. Reluctantly drawing back some and you’re frowning up at him. ‘Don’t try to sweet talk me,’ you grumble. ‘Just because someone annoys you, it doesn’t give you the right to grab them and sling them into the stratosphere. That last mech is still in medbay.’ Do you have any idea how adorable you look fussing at him, expression serious? ‘No going Hulk on people, okay?’ Head tilting as he tries to figure out what that means, he lowers his head and you fuss about personal space as he nuzzles against you.

• Flustered as Hook just stares at you, you can feel them all staring. Because there’s no denying that this is Devastator’s kid. And you’re not entirely sure if they consider this cheating or not. Though Devastator is them. But he’s also his own person. When the combiner had sparkbonded you while the mechs were all mass displaced tiny, this isn’t exactly the outcome you’d expected. You honestly don’t think any of them had even guessed this might be possible. They’d all just assumed one of them was the sire after Hook had realized you were sparked.

• Moving closer to kneel beside you, Bonecrusher rumbles and nudges Hook’s hand aside so he can offer his servo to their sparkling. Likes how you look, their son in your arms. Even if he can’t tell what the sparkling’s altmode is. But then, a combiner siring a sparkling isn’t exactly something that happens often. Or at all. Leaning down, his cheek brushes yours as he vents. Servos flexing with the need to hold his son. And Mixmaster throws an arm across his shoulders, crowding him as the other mech tries to touch the sparkling’s hand. “Let me see,” Mixmaster growls and his plating flares slightly in irritation. Not wanting to share, wanting to have a moment that’s only his.

• Exchanging a look with Hook, Scrapper shakes his head in bemusement. Still trying to understand how this happened. Though he knows how. Devastator had taken full advantage to being closer to your size. He’d been there, felt that hungry need like they all had. And he’s growling, reaching to separate Long Haul, Mixmaster, and Bonecrusher when the three start rumbling aggressively at each other, pushing to try and get closer to you. They’re unsettled and on edge and he gets it. Knows they feel the need to combine, needing to see the sparkling as Devastator, because he does, too. Feels it aching through him, his desire, but not only his at the same time.

• Loves your warmth cradled in his big hand and he’s reaching to run the tip of a servo against your hip, growling when you flatten yourself in his palm with a cry. Is he being too rough? Rumbling unhappily, he steps over the wall of the base and into the tree line. Trying to be gentle with you, but you’re just so tiny compared to him. Sitting heavily, you yelp and your arms go over your head. Frowning, he gently nudges your side and you grab at his servo, pushing him away. “Stop, please,” you gasp and he freezes.

• Heart hammering, you risk a glance up at the giant. And his frown has your skin prickling. Making you aware that he’s not trying to hurt you, he just doesn’t understand his own strength. “I’m going to have bruises if you keep poking at me like that,” you manage, voice tremulous. That frown unnerves you. Separately they enjoy toying with you, handling you. But this amalgamation is something whole new. Seems to be a different personality completely and making him mad probably isn’t a great idea. If you don’t play along, will he hurt you?

• Inching a servo closer to you, he stops short of touching you. Asking. “Little conjunx,” he growls as you stare uncertainly up at him and cautiously lay a tiny palm on his servo. And you fall over when he lifts his hand, head lowering to vent against you as you whimper words he doesn’t know. Mouth brushing against your body, you push at his face. ‘Yes. Your conjunx,’ you gasp, squirming away. ‘Your very breakable conjunx.’

• Inhaling slowly as he rumbles like thunder, encouraging him by agreeing that you’re his conjunx might not be the best idea given what you know about these guys, but you definitely want to stay on his good side. And not squished for angering him. Eyes flicking over as much of him as you can see, you recognize parts of the Constructicons integrated into this form. “Mine,” he growls and you smile weakly. Knowing that’s going to be a problem when they separate and decide to make good on that claim, but maybe they won’t remember when they’re not Devastator? ‘That’s right, big guy. Yours.’ Nearly falling when he leans, you wince when he reaches with his free hand and just uproots an entire flowering tree, holding it up to you with a rumbling growl. ‘Oh. For me? It’s um, lovely.’

• “Mine,” he growls, taking a thunderous step forward and another human grabs you when you try to bolt. Forces you toward him. Rumbling angrily, everything’s a confusing mess inside him. His different voices whispering, upset. Someone else is touching you when you’re theirs. And your boots slide as you resist getting pushed his way. Dropping to a knee to reach for you, the impact knocks you and several other humans down. Servos closing carefully on you, caging you, your field is an agony of fear needling at him. Making it harder to hold himself together.

• Trying to squirm between his servos as the massive hand cups around you to send your heart hammering in your chest, he makes a low, groaning noise as he lifts you. And you clench your eyes shut against the rush of being lifted too high too fast. Trying to memorize the face of the jerk who shoved you at this monster so you can murder him later. If you survive. Lying in his hand, you can’t move. Don’t dare try to lean and look down, because you’re almost positive you’ve unlocked a hitherto unknown fear of heights because of him.

• So fragile. Can feel you, a tiny spot of warmth in his hand. And your fear hurts. Haven’t they tried to do right by you? Courted you? Maybe you hadn’t chosen them, but they’ve proven themselves. Haven’t Hook and Mixmaster brought you human food? Scavenger and Bonecrusher carried you outside the base for walks in the sun and woods like you enjoy? They’ve protected you. Taken care of you like you tend to them. You know them. But you don’t know him, do you? That realization sinking into them all as his head lowers and his lips brush you.

• Shielding your face with an arm when he presses his mouth against you in a kiss that covers your whole body, you whimper when he clears his vents to blast you with gale force winds that rock you. “Devastator’s little conjunx,” he growls, the words rough and guttural. Is this even still them or something new entirely? He does seem to know you. You’re not about to contradict this giant’s claim, either. Not when you like being alive and not squished by this Devastator if you make him angry. Getting another kiss that flattens you into his palm and drives the air from your lungs, you wheeze and gasp when his head lifts to growl at everyone and everything. Before he’s walking off with you. Apparently kidnapping you.

• Rumbling warily as he adjusts his grip on you, Bonecrusher growls when he recognizes Overlord. Chasing a human. And he hears Scavenger start growling a warning, too. “Hey!” You yell and he vents when the other human runs toward you. “Oh,” you murmur, stumbling back a step when Overlord swings your way, too. Doesn’t know the word you say next as you retreat with them, but your field prickles through him with your fear.

• Snarling at Overlord to back off in their own language as the miniature jet circles and the other human grabs your arm when Overlord dives at both humans, Hook tenses. And the stranger is trying to hide behind you to his annoyance. Feels the aggravation of the others building, rumbling growing louder. Barely leashed aggression spinning him tight. Before he’s reaching for Scrapper, grabbing the other Constructicon.

• Swatting at the tiny jet as it swoops and dives at your face, you’ve unlocked a new fear. Thinking of all the stupid videos you’ve seen of people accidentally flying drones into their own faces, you try to not drop any of your mechs as you fend off whoever this new alien is. And Bonecrusher pushes off of you, hitting the ground right before they’re all letting go. Then combining. Though it loses something when they end up only a foot taller than you are.

• Servos digging down into the earth, he lifts a boulder free and sets it aside before his head turns. Checking on you stretched out in the sun. Know you like being outside and he, they, want you to have whatever you want. Humans need sunshine, whispers through him, one of the voices that make him up offering wisdom as he slowly straightens. They’re social, whispers the same voice. Something about the way you look soaking up the sun leaves him off balance. Makes him growl at how cute you look relaxed, warm, and happy. Humans are tactile, too. Like to touch things and he understands that completely.

• Eyes opening when the ground shakes with his steps and his shadow falls across you, the massive mech is just leaning over you, before dropping to his knees to jar you as he rumbles, the sound like thunder rolling on the horizon. “Everything okay?” You ask, inhaling sharply when he bends over you, planting a massive hand near you and his face presses against you, forcing the air out of your lungs as he growls. Again? He’s too heavy for this even if he’s being careful not to squish you.

• Rumbling deepening to a purr when you say his name, a tiny hand pushing at his face, he nuzzles against you, venting to pull your scent deep. Can’t help it. Sometimes he just needs to do this. Sees you doing something sweet and he can’t stand it. Lips brushing you, it’s an effort to not gently bite. He does sometimes. No, that’s not him. Mixmaster. He likes to bite and there’s dissonance in that thought. A reprimand. “Devvy, I can’t breathe,” you laugh, trying to squirm free.

• You’re so small you don’t seem real in his hand. Can’t even feel your weight it’s so insubstantial. Makes him feel out of control staring at you when your head lifts and you meet his optics. And you’re his. Theirs. Bombarded with thoughts, memories, and emotions that aren’t his, but feel like they are. Like he’s held you while you slept, kissed you, and shared a meal with you. It gets so confusing sometimes, but he knows you. Knows you’re his.

• Have no idea what he’s thinking when he looks at you like that. Staring like you’re a mystery he needs to solve. And you’re still a bit confused sometimes on what you are to him. When they separate, they’re your, what, husbands? Boyfriends? You’re not really sure and it’s not like you’ve sat down and actually discussed your relationship with them. Maybe it’s not even a relationship at all and it’s just purely physical, but that doesn’t feel right. “Frowning,” he growls, his deep voice rumbling through you until you force a smile.

• Why are you frowning? Unhappy with him? Wants to reach out, brush a servo against your cheek, but you’re so small. He’d probably knock you down, might accidentally hurt you. Head lowering, you lean back to avoid him and end up sprawled in his hand as he stops just shy of touching you. Venting to pull your scent in makes your clothes and hair whip, your eyes widening. And sometimes it’s hard to think, sometimes there’s too many voices in his head and they’re out of sync, wanting different things. But right now the chaos is calm, all of him focused on you.

• Heart in your throat, because of how big he is, you turn your face away when his lips just barely brush your body. This becoming normal, his way of letting you know that he remembers you when they’re Devastator. Unresisting as he rumbles and nuzzles against you, you’re painfully aware of how easily he could hurt you. Trusting him not to as you lay a hand on his chin. “No frowning,” he growls to make you smile faintly and his visor brightens to bathe you in red light. Blowing out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, you lean up to press a kiss against his bottom lip.

• “Need,” he growls, the sound too loud, rumbling through you as the fine hair at your nape prickles. And his lips brush against you in a kiss that rocks your entire body as you flush. Realizing what he wants as you try to figure out how he thinks that’s going to work. Hear him rumbling and it sounds like thunder, his presence overwhelming as his lips press against you again, tugging at your shirt until you’re giving up and stripping for him. He’s still your guys, just all combined into one. Trust him, them, not to hurt you. ‘Careful,’ you whisper anyway.

• Like he doesn’t know. Pulling your scent deep, his mouth opens, glossa sliding against you. Chasing the taste of your need as you make a startled noise and he has to curl a servo around you to keep from pushing your body up his palm when his glossa strokes between your thighs again. Hears your breath catch, the sound so faint when you’re so small and he’s so big. Unable to spear his glossa inside you, each stroke running against your inner thighs and up against your belly as frustration winds him tight. Needs more.

• Hear him snarl to nearly deafen you, his cheek rubbing against your inner thighs and knees and you’re going to be bruised most likely. No matter how gentle he’s trying to be, he’s too big and you’re too small. His lips and glossa teasing you as he mouths against you and his shoulder hits the wall. Feeling so much more helpless than normal under Devastator’s attentions as he grunts and vents to blow warm air across you and lift goosebumps over your skin. Your own hips bucking against the friction of his glossa, letting him get this out of his system as you chase pleasure and hope no one walks over to see what’s going on.