#hardshell x reader

• “Ready for your bath?” You ask, voice wavering as you bare your blunt, little teeth at him. Hissing as he crawls down the wall, you back away but don’t run. Still doesn’t really understand a little, soft creature like you courting him. Trying so hard to win him over and be claimed. Dropping to the ground, he chitters when you stumble back. “I stole you some scraps from the kitchen,” you nervously add. “In case you’re hungry?”

• Fighting the urge to run because you’d tried that the first time you’d approached him and he’d startled you. He’d chased you down and caught you in his awful bug form as your coworkers scattered. Carried you back dangling from his mandibles like a mother cat with a kitten, too. Neck craning as he looms over you, venting and growling, your heart hammers as you nervously smile. “Are you hungry?” You stutter.

• Head tipping as he pulls your scent deep, he reaches out a clawed servo to hook in the front of your covering. And you stagger slightly when he tugs you closer, his head lowering to make you turn your head away. Can smell your fear, so why choose him? Why court him? Protection? Supposes he can understand seeking strength when you’re so soft and fragile. But no one chooses an Insecticon. They take.

• Listening to everyone griping, you look for Dreadwing and lift a hand in a little wave as his frown deepens. Pretty sure he hadn’t wanted to obey Megatron and drag you over here, but he had. Everyone had except the big, scary dragon mech. He’d apparently chased the Vehicons that had been sent to tell him he’d been summoned with his human all over the ship before throwing a couple of them out of the ship. And realistically as you look at the sad little group of other humans, most of them look tired or angry. Resigned. Definitely not winning any contests.

• Rumbling softly as he studies the humans, Megatron’s lip curls. Because you’re clearly superior. How could you not be? He’d chosen you. Head turning at a shriek, he watches Hardshell wing over in his altmode, a struggling human dangling from his mandibles. And the rest of the humans scatter when he heads their way and drops his human to go stumbling before joining the rest of the them and transforming. Hadn’t realizes the Insecticon even had a human.

• No matter what, they’re getting thrashed. Staring grimly at the little humans milling about then at their mechs, Steve clears his vents. “Are we supposed to be doing something? Like a talent show?” One of the humans asks and the rest shush them frantically as Megatron slowly smiles. ‘You know this is a waste of time,’ Knockout says. ‘Look at my human and it’s obvious who the winner is.’

• “Is it?” Megatron growls as Starscream huffs, arms crossed and the warlord turns on him, smiling to bare sharp denta. “You think your human stands a chance against mine?” And his wings flare slightly, nervously trembling as he glances at you then Megatron. ‘My human could beat yours easily,’ Starscream snarls before he can lose his nerve and he hears Dreadwing’s rumbling ‘wait, they’re supposed to be fighting each other?’ Megatron turns his way, still smiling before reaching out to push him out of his way. “Your human is pathetic. Just like you.”

• Flying over the desert, he can feel his little find struggling weakly and making soft, pained noises. Hadn’t expected to leave anything alive when he’d gotten hungry and found on that little secluded building by the road crawling with tasty organic treats. Lost himself in the joy of hunting prey, going after the ones that ran first before seeking out the clever prey that had hidden. Mandibles shifting against you as he vents to pull your fascinating scent deep, you make a mewling, little pained sound, gasping.

• Remember the truck stop, the heat of the day baking you as you’d walked inside after pumping gas. The AC blissfully cold and the bell over the door chiming. A wet floor sign. Can only seem to remember in faltering snippets, your mind shying away over and over like a spooked animal. Something had happened. Weakly struggling as whatever is gripping you squeezes slightly, your head turns. That’s right. That thing happened. And you’re shaking uncontrollably, limbs stiff as you gasp and can’t even scream. Have no idea if you’re panicking or having a stroke as your teeth chatter and you’re making a low, animal noise of fear.

• Chittering feeling you trembling in his grip, he banks and adjusts his flight path. Angling upward as you shake and he lands on the Nemesis, moving through the halls and forcing Vehicons out of his way with the bulk of his altmode, hissing warnings at their stares before he enters his nest. Mandibles flexing, he releases you and you’re crawling away as he watches you, head tipping before he pins you flat on your belly with his mandibles, venting. Can hear the funny hitching sound you’re making as his head tilts to rub against you.

• Gasping brokenly as you get rolled onto your back, the thing comes apart and reshapes itself. And this form isn’t any better than the other one when it chitters, mandibles flexing and its head drops. Tense waiting for those sharp denta to sink into you, to your shock it just rubs its chin and mandibles against you like an enormous cat. Hadn’t seen what happened to the other people, you’d been hiding wedged into a corner, but you’d heard the screaming. Maybe this thing had only been scaring them? Because it’s not hurting you. But rubbing affectionately against you making a deep rumbling purr that’s absolutely horrifying. Everything about the thing nightmare fuel.

• Feels one of your soft hands on his head as you shakily stroke him and he vents to pull your sweet scent deep. Hadn’t even considered taking a queen, much less a human one, but there’s no resisting your scent. Almost addictive. Rumbling, his head rubs against you marking you with his scent. And soft hands push at his head as you make a funny noise. Bets you’re soft all over, his chin rubbing against your belly and thighs and he’s glad he didn’t devour you. You’re going to be such a sweet, little queen. Smell so good.

Next

• Mandibles flexing against you as you fuss at him, Hardshell clicks in amusement. He vents, pulling the scent of you, of your arousal deep into himself as you chatter. Amused, he drops you to hear you gasp before snagging you again midair and gently lowering you on your belly. And mass shifting, nudging your thighs open for him as his glossa slides against you to make you shiver. “Little breeder,” he growls affectionately against you, glossa tunneling inside you as he listens to your little noises. Always talking, except when he’s inside you, fragging you until you can’t focus to talk.

• Moaning as your fingers dig into the blankets, feeling that wickedly long glossa pushing inside you, curling and exploring to make your hips buck. You’re still not sure what the two of you are to each other. If he’s your boyfriend or just your giant, alien fuck buddy. He’s not much of a conversationalist, but he definitely makes up for it with mind shatteringly good sex. Grinding and rocking yourself against his mouth, feeling his mandibles grab at your hips, you groan as you come apart and his glossa laps against you before he’s shifting.

• Freeing his spike, he moves to cover you. Feeling you tremble slightly as he finds you and presses deep, stretching you. Sinking into your wet heat as his clawed servos dig into your bedding and he’s moving against you, hips snapping. Listening to you whimper, the way your breath catches. Hadn’t meant to take a human queen, but he doesn’t regret the impulsive decision. Rutting urgently against you, he hears you cry out and he keeps thrusting, trying to make it last longer until he’s roaring, frame straining as he overloads to fill you. Reluctantly slipping free of your wet heat and hiding away his spike as his plating shifts, his secondary spike pressurizing slowly.

• Thighs trembling with your release, you feel him slide against you again. Apparently deciding he wanted another round, but when he presses inside you, there’s a slight burn of being stretched. Like his spike is thicker somehow. Leg kicking out on a whimper as he slowly rocks his hips against you, working himself deep and he is bigger, almost uncomfortably so. “What are you doing?” You moan, flinching when something snares your hips, digging into you as soon as he’s buried deep. Reaching back and finding the claspers that usually lay flat and look like part of his hip plating pinning you against him. “Hardshell?”

• “Breeding,” he snarls, can’t really thrust locked inside you, claspers keeping you in place, but his hips rock and undulate against you, pressing you into the pillows as he groans. And you’re going to be a good carrier for his brood as he begins to fill you with a hiss, feeling you squirm under him, your breath catching. No longer chattering.

• You’re an affectionate little thing, so trusting as soft hands touch his head and his mandibles in hesitant exploration. “I’m keeping you,” he rasps and you snatch your hands back, eyes wide. Chuckling at your expression, he snares you with his mandibles and you suck in a frightened breath. Venting lazily to pull your scent deep, he lifts you feeling those soft hand hanging onto him as your breathing quickens. Turning, he pulls a cleaning cloth from subspace, then another. Laying them down, he eases you back down on them and you push away. Will need more most likely. Soft things like you probably appreciate soft nests.

• “You talk,” you blurt and those sharp mandibles flex slowly as his head tips. And your mind belatedly catches on the ‘keeping you’ bit. Like you’re the stray he’d taken in. Can’t look away from those sharp denta as he makes a chittering, rasping noise. ‘So do you,’ he hisses, invading your space and your elbow smacks the berth when you lean back. At a stalemate, you try to wrap your mind around a giant, alien, metal bug. That talks and wants to keep you like a pet.

• Laughing softly at your expression, his plating lifts and settles. Such a tiny thing. Fragile. Reaching out a clawed servo, you lean further back. Now you’re afraid? Venting as you stare at him, he catches your wrist and you resist weakly when he pulls your hand to him, pressing your soft palm against his helm again. Rumbling when your fingers flex, he leans into your touch as you reluctantly stroke his head. Such soft hands, has never felt anything so nice. “You can’t keep me. I can’t stay here,” you protest and you suck in a breath when he drops to lay his upper body across your middle and thighs. “I have a job. Responsibilities.”

• You’re pretty sure he doesn’t actually care about your job. He’s making a deep, hissing crooning as you reluctantly rub his head. “Responsibilities,” he echoes back at you, sounding amused. ‘That’s right. You can’t keep me, because I’m kind of a big deal. People will come looking for me,’ you lie and his head tilts, that visor brightening slightly. He can’t want people to come snooping, right? “You’re a terrible liar, little treat,” he growls and you have no idea what to say to that. “But let your people try to take you away.”