#mtmte x reader

Four weeks and three days.

You wacked the frilly hood almost as soon as Ratchet started pulling you into the hallway. He got the message pretty quick and lowered the eyesore. Even though it’s been a while you can still trace back the path to Rung’s office pretty well.

It took three weeks and two days for Rung to become fully operational and pass all medical concerns and exams. Rung quickly resumed his schedule and eight days have passed since that benchmark as well, which means it’s been three days and four weeks since you’ve last seen Rung. You think so anyways, time is a little hard to grasp here, but it’s still something human instinctive to keep track of.

Ratchet makes a left turn and passes by a squealing Tailgate, “Ah! Little Bitty sits so well! And so behaved!! Are you going somewhere with Raaaatchet?" Tailgate reaches his servo out to your helm to pat it. At least you think he’ll give you a head pat. He often gets overcome with some sort of cute aggression and squeezes your cheeks together, but he probably wouldn’t do that with the ultimate Mother Hen pushing your stroller. As Tailgate begins small conversation with Ratchet, you shake your helm and point towards the end of the hallway. You have places to be dammit! Move!

Tailgate huffs and gives you one last ruffle before Ratchet continues down the hallway. Rung should probably be one of the mech’s you tell about… everything? It’s hard to decipher what should and should not be common knowledge. He was already pretty close to discovering your origins on Earth, so you’re pretty confident that he can be in the loop for that.

But how in the loop? Should he read the log entries (and whatever else Chromedome found), or will it be a simple conversation of, I got transmutated into a mechanical body against my will, but I was born, and still think like a human. Thanks for spoon-feeding me!

It probably wouldn’t be a simple conversation but you can still hope. Maybe you can lead with simple and then let him choose if he wants to read the details? Maybe it’ll be something he pulls out of you later in life when you definitely get proper therapy.

He would probably want your opinion on it too. Eughh. What a fun and comfortable future conversation.

Ratchet curls his servo into a fist and raps it against the door, quite soon after you hear rustling from inside and Rung opens the door. He looks at you and beams. You probably had a similar expression too.

As happy as you are to see your guardian, (he is your guardian, right? It’s hard to tell.) part of you is conflicted about the confrontation that needs to happen. Do you tell him about Overlord? Rung doesn’t know about the entire situation, but he might be able to help the others who are involved! Maybe give some insight or add a valuable opinion? But that isn’t your secret to share. If the others here are willing to keep your secret then shouldn’t you keep theirs as well? But if there's more help on the situation, there less of a chance of mechs getting caught in the rampage. You could always try to share the information secretly. It’s kinda worked so far, and it’s not like anyone is really catching onto the whole prophet baby phenomenon you're trying to push.

Maybe you could simply allude to it and let others make the connections. Being a creepy baby would probably get mechs to start asking questions. Yeah, sure. Let’s try allusion and manipulation today.

Rung takes the stroller from Ratchet and sends him a small smile while gently rocking the wheels back and forth. Ratchet takes a peer into the office but Rung sidesteps to block his vision, “Ah. Didn’t mean to spy, just wanted to know if anyone was listening.”

“Is there something you need to tell me?”

Ratchet looks at you for a moment before looking back up at Rung, “Uh.. No. Not currently. But you might hear something from Rodimus or Drift pretty soon.”

“…Alright. Anything else?”

As if he just remembered something, Ratchet points a digit into the air. “Yes, actually. They had another disk flare last cycle, I saw some readings I didn’t like so I want to integrate more med-bay visits. Just as a precaution.”

“So there’s something wrong with their spark?”

Is there? You feel fine. Honestly, you feel great. That nap did wonders as it was surprisingly soothing.

“I didn’t say that.”

Rung huffs and looks straight at Ratchet who doesn’t move an inch. “But you alluded to it. If it’s readings from the disk that's something wrong with the spark, right?”

Is there something wrong with your spark? Ratchet did take your disk after it started flashing during your nap with Drift. Was there something on there? Bad things?

Ratchet looks between you and Rung and hesitates. Why is he hesitating? Normally mechs talk in front of you, about you, and frankly about things they probably shouldn’t be talking about in front of children. But to be fair you’re a baby who is supposed to only be starting to get a grasp on language, it’s only because of your mind age difference that you can understand them.

…Ah. Ratchet knows you can understand more than previously thought.

He won’t say anything he doesn’t want you to know. This change in attitude is probably something that's going to occur with everyone who gets told your secrets. That does change things a little bit, it makes you reconsider who you want into the small secret circle you are creating.

It’s much easier to come across information when no one shuts up around you and no one questions your suspicious behaviour.

Rung stops rocking the stroller and rolls his optics. “Alright. Leave me to worry I guess.”

You hear Ratchet vent, “I’m just not sure of the diagnosis yet and don’t want to tell you something I don't know is true or not, hence more med-bay visits.”

“Alright then. Update me when you can.”

Ratchet waves and walks off in a different direction than the way back to the med-bay.

You look up at Rung and make grabby motions with your servos. He gives good cuddles and you’ve quite missed them. Laughing, Rung obliges to your demand and waves the mech in his office over and picks you up.

“Can you bring in the stroller? I don’t have the spark to refuse nor any extra arms to bring the stroller in.”

You look to the direction of the waving and make a mental note to change plans for the day to have no allusions and minimal manipulations as Fort Max slowly waddles over. Despite looking small and apprehensive now, you can vividly remember the outburst he had a month ago and don’t want to trigger something inside of him again by talking about the mech who tortured him.

While approaching you, Fort Max never takes his optics off you as he slowly brings the stroller inside and closes the door.

Wait, why is he apprehensive? You turn your helm in his direction, a puzzled expression most likely on your face and Fort Max immediately stops moving.

Hm.

_______________________________________________________

It’s unsettling when Rodimus goes quiet. Elbows on the table and face in his servos.

No one in the room speaks or moves except for the occasional tap and drag coming from Brainstorm as he scrolls through the datapad. Brainstorm shows very little in his expression except for the furrow in his brows.

Rodimus mumbles from between his servos. “How many mech’s in the brigg originate from the bitlet’s ship.”

Drift sighs and counts for a moment, “…Not many I don’t think. We sent most of them back to Cybertron when we stopped at Hedonia. The only one that knew about the bitlet and the artifact is still on board, but I don’t believe that he has much information.”

Rodimus raises his helm and drags his servos over his faceplates. “Do they- …do they remember what happened to them?”

The air feels stagnant while Drift stares at the table in front of him. There’s paint chipping off on the knuckles on some of his digits, He should fix that. “… I don’t know about what they think happened. They haven’t expressed any part of what happened to them… but…” Looking to the side Drift rolls his servo in the air while trying to articulate his words. “.. But I know that they remember pain of some sort.”

Chromedome gestures for the datapad in Brainstorm’s hold to which the scientist swats at him, “Did they communicate this with you Drift?”

“There were a couple of hints, but ultimately I just talked to them. Their field confirmed the rest for me. But I haven’t had any actual conversations. At least verbally anyways. But I think they might be trying to convey something by drawing.”

Brainstorm mumbles, still reading aquaheap's datapad. “Smart bitlet.”

Rodimus raps his digits along the table. This information doesn’t change much currently, but it does mean that an investigation will likely need to be opened.

But then information would leak.

Rodimus continues to rap his digits along the table. “What do you think they’re trying to say?”

Drift and Chromedome pull out their datapads and open it to numerous pages of scribbles that start to make a coherent story once all put together.

The first drawing was the one you drew after your cognition tests in Rung’s office. Three mechs, one confirmed to be chromedome, putting a cube container underneath a ship.

The second drawing is the one you just made with Drift and Ratchet. It shows a monster stuck in a cube.

The third and fourth drawings are respective drawings of Rewind scribbled out and Tailgate laying on a slab while something scans him.

Brainstorm and Rodimus silently look over the drawings until Chromedome picks up his datapad and switches it to his calendar. “There’s also the whole, 30 minutes isn’t enough, he’ll get out, message that only could have been left by a hacker, Rewind, or the sparkling.”

Rodimus shoots his servos up in mild frustration and confusion, “What are you trying to say here??”

Chromedome switches back to the pictures of the monster and points to them, “The sparkling knows Overlord is being held in a slow cell under the Lost Light.”

Drift points to the picture of the scribbled out Rewind and sick Tailgate, “And the sparkling thinks mech’s are going to get hurt.”

Before Rodimus could connect to where Chromedome and Drift are leading him, Brainstorm does it first. “The sparkling believes that Overlord is going to escape.”

______________________________________________________

Rungs clears his throat and shuffles around slightly. His current sitting arrangement isn’t too comfortable. “Just to clarify, it was trailbreakers comments that you last remember before you started shooting?”

Fort Max winces in his seat across from you and Rung. Staying silent for a moment, he fiddles with the tiny cube in his servo’s before handing it to you. It’s hard to balance it now while as pile continues to increase and Rung’s lap doesn’t have that much space.

“…Yes. I think. I was sort of wandering aimlessly the entire cycle. I think his comments were just the… push.”

“Do you normally wonder or pace? I know a lot of mech’s find repetitive action to be soothing. Even if it's done unintentionally.”

“I … don’t really know.”

The therapy session between Max and Rung had continued (albeit with much hesitation of Max’s end), and for some reason Rung had been determined to include you for the time being. You aren’t sure if it’s more because he missed you, or if he’s trying to get Fort Max comfortable. Maybe both. But it’s not like you’re a part of conversation or anything, Rung simply keeps pointing to things that interest you. Or he tells Fort Max to give you something you like.

Like a cube.

Fort Max is apprehensive each time he leans over, but he does seem to be talking a little more freely than he did in the comics. But tunnel vision is just the side effect of a baby. It takes a lot of concentration from the caretaker to keep them happy. Especially if they recognize you for the gun you carry around.

“Maybe let’s set up a space for you. Somewhere that’s open where you can move and calm down before you hear comments again.”

But Fort Max gets a bit of leeway here as he truly wasn’t in his right mind, and judging by the amount of cubes you have to play with you have come to the conclusion that perhaps he simply doesn’t know how to apologize.

You pause with your cubes. Maybe he’s never really gotten one? That’s a bit sad to think about. But it would make sense with his overall character. You sigh vent as a guilty conscience clouds your thoughts. He doesn’t mean to be scary or threatening, and Fort Max is important to the story, so the quicker he’s comfortable with you the better.

Fort Max picks up another cube and fiddles with it for a moment before turning it over on each side. While he silently fidgets, he moves the side of the cube that has a glyph on it to face you. It’s the letter ‘a’.

Quickly you devise a three step plan to hopefully get Fort Max a little more comfortable with you. Step one, you must get his attention.

You make a noise and point to the cube. Normally, when you make noises it’s like switching inputs that you don’t have on a tv. However, this time there was a bit more control within the resonance of the static. How fun, it seems like you’re growing. Both Fort Max and Rung stop their conversation. Rung chuckles while Fort Max inches the cube closer to you.

Fort Max looks down at the cube before looking back up, “Sorry little one. I suppose I was teasing you with that cube by not letting you get it.” Once the cube is in reach you stretch out to grab it and return it to your little pile.

“And uhm.. I think.. We can try having a little space or something like that. Wouldn’t my Habsuite be enough though?”

You pick up a cube and stretch your little arms to Fort Max’s direction.

Rung watches you and hums, “Let’s try to find somewhere else. You might get a roommate one day and lose some privacy. Plus I don’t want the area you recharge to be associated with stress.”

Fort Max looks between you and Rung, unsure of what to do. You wiggle your arms a little as if you’re about to throw the cube and Fort Max quickly reaches over to scoop his servos under yours to catch it. Fort Max sits there, confused and unsure how to interact until you grab another cube and stretch out to give him this one as well.

“Do they not want the cubes anymore?”

Rung hands you a cube, and you repeat the action. “No? I’m not sure. I think they might just be sharing.”

Yes. Feel the empathy from a baby Fort Max! It is the purest and rarest form of empathy out there! (Mostly because empathy isn’t learned until a couple years from now. But whatever.) Take the baby's gift.

You grab another cube and despite Fort Max now being prepared, keep it to yourself and place it to the side of you. You repeat the action by grabbing yet another cube. The two mech watch in silence as you hold two cubes, a weak hold in each servo.

Then you start hitting them together. Quite obnoxiously. While maintaining eye contact with Fort Max. The cubes make quick hollow clinking noises and you wonder what exactly they are made out of.

Fort Max looks up to Rung for help, but is unfortunately met with an equally confused expression.

You stop hitting the blocks together, and the room falls silent. Second part of the plan, deploy the cube!

You throw a block at Fort Max.

He catches it with quick reflexes and you beam. Rung chokes on air while Fort Max sits as still as a statue.

“Bitlet! You can’t ju- I am so sorry Max! They’re normally so good.” Rung hunches over to look at you holding onto the other cube. “You can’t throw things at other Cybertronians bitty. We’re going to have to take these away if you can’t play nice.”

Poor Rung is always on the confusing end of your schemes, but hopefully he’ll soon understand. You put the other block you were holding to the side of you and wiggles your little digits. Third step of the plan, play!

Fort Max looks at you and then looks at Rung before whispering, “… do they want the cube back?”

You slump, and quickly add a step 2.5 to your plan, show.

You grab the cube you set aside and gently toss it into the air where you can catch it, before putting it to the side and expectantly look at Fort Max.

Rung makes a noise of recognition before silently laughing, “they want to play Max.” Yes! “Toss them the cube, gently.”

Slowly Fort Max hunches in his seat so that his servos are only a couple inches apart from yours, and ever so gently tosses the cube into your servos. You’re pretty sure the thing is in the air for less than a quarter of a second but you beam up at Fort Max and his mystified expression makes you laugh nonetheless.

You throw the cube back to Fort Max’s servos, and after a beat of hesitation, he throws it back to you as well.

Prepping for your next throw Fort Max makes a bowl of his servos, “… I thought they would be scared.”

You aim, and hit Fort max’s left palm. Rung readjusts his hold on you so that you can move a bit more freely, “To be honest Max, I doubt they recognize you. The mech that shouted and scared them and the mech in front of them now are probably two different individuals to the bitlet.”

Instead of throwing the cube back Fort Max curls his digits around the tiny thing and vents in and out very slowly. You look up to see his optics closed and his faceplates all scrunched up, and you can’t help but realize how human he looks.

I mean, he’s blue, but his nose scrunches the same way yours did.

You lean over to close the distance between your servos and tap his knuckles twice. There’s a faint red hue of light that tells you to look up again, and when you do you see Fort Max staring right at you.

You smile and wave.

He smiles too.

___________________________________

Ayo I am so sorry for the long wait, the A03 curse hit me like a rubber dodge ball and my appendix burst like right after my exams. Good news is that I'm fine, bad news is that I did so well in my exams that I have practicums, responsibilities, and night shifts now. (Tee hee!)

This was beyond humiliating. Cyclonus sat at the edge of his own berth, long metal cables wrapped snugly around his form. Trailing down his thighs and up around his chastis, pulling his servos behind his wings and ending in a tight knot. His modesty plate retracted with a soft hiss as his spike pressurized, red biolights pulsing along the length of his shaft as his empty valve tightened around itself. How did you manage to talk him into this? He wondered as he watched Tailgate pull himself up onto his own berth parallel to Cyclonus’.

Tailgate’s spike was already pressurized and his valve was dripping with lubricant, just the sight of the minibot seemed to make every wire in his circuitry ache with desire. Tailgate let out a slight gasp when you climbed up after him, his clear blue visor wide with excitement. His optics trailed over your body as you looked to Cyclonus, he looked so pretty like this, all tied up and desperate. And to think you hadn’t even started yet. Turning back to Tailgate as you straddled his hips, his spike pulsing against your stomach.

“Please..” Tailgate whimpered as you raised yourself up on your knees and lined your cunt up with his spike. The tip of his spike slipping in as you lowered yourself agonizingly slow, Cyclonus’ own spike twitched at the sight, desperate for some kind of stimulation. His vents cleared suddenly at the sound of Tailgate’s moans and pleas, Tailgate could barely keep his hands to himself as you slowly sank down until his spike was fully encased in your sweet heat.

Tailgate settled his servos on your hips, his digits curling and squeezing the flesh slightly. You sat there for a moment, allowing yourself to adjust to the sweet burning sensation of his spike.

You glanced at Cyclonus for a moment, his deep red optics fixated on where yours and Tailgate’s hips met. Normally his piercing gaze would make you nervous and want to shy away, to hide yourself from the sheer embarrassment of having an alien stare at your naked body. But something about the desperation in his optics sent a wave of jittery confidence through you, he almost seems willing to beg to be touched, but who he wants to be touched by isn’t clear.

Your train of thought is suddenly interrupted by Tailgate’s hips grinding up against your core as he whimpered pleas for you to move. You decided to indulge him, if only to give you an excuse to break the soul piercing eye contact with Cyclonus. You lift your hips slightly and start to sink up and down, you start slow but as the burning of his spike stretching you fades you grow bolder. You start to quicken your pace, every roll of your hips enticing those delicious moans from Tailgate as he allows his helm to fall back against his berth with a light thump.

The other berth creaks as Cyclonus leans forward to watch the scene before him intently, his wings flutter as he clears his vents once more, he can feel the plating of his face getting warmer, his biologists flaring brightly as his spike aches with need, a need for Tailgate, a need for you.

Tailgate’s grip on your hips tightens slightly, his hips bucking into your core as he begs for more. You oblige his request and pick up a steady pace that makes his back arch. His audial receptors focused on the lovely sound of metal meeting flesh as you ride him, he leans forward slightly to watch his thrusts ripple across your thighs every time your hips meet, the sweet slick feeling of you wrapped so perfectly around his spike, it's too good.

Tailgate groans as he feels that familiar growing sensation throughout his circuitry, he's so close, he wants to overload inside you so badly, to try to spark you, to watch Cyclonus try to spark you. His helm falls back to the berth and his rhythm starts to become erratic as he feels you tighten around him. Tailgate’s servos tighten around you as he moves you up and down on his spike, pulling groans out of you as his spike rubs every spot within you perfectly.

It's not long before Tailgate completely loses his rhythm and overloads deep inside you, the delicious burning feeling of his hot transfluid filling your abdomen and leaking out onto where your hips meet. Tailgate clears his vents as he sits up once more, you mumble softly as you grind your hips against him, “Don’t leave me on the edge…” you say as Tailgate lifts you from his spike, his transfluid leaking out of you.

You glance over at Cyclonus, who is still watching you and Tailgate intently. There are scratch marks from where his sharp digits were gripping his berth. Before you can open your mouth to tease him about it the smaller bot guides your hips forward as he retracts his mask to reveal his intake.

His intake was a plain hole beneath his mask, the inside of his intake is lined with a silicone like padding that glistened with intake fluids. Tailgate’s intake darted forward and suctioned onto your clit, pulling moans from you as he moved his servos from the flesh on your hips down between your legs. His digits moved to part open your folds, his own release dripping down his servo as he slid a digit into you.

Your head falls back slightly as Tailgate draws shaky breaths from your lips, your head turns at the sound of a groan. Cyclonus has always been good at hiding his true feelings, but his mask is starting to slip. His intake was parted with his denta barred  as he huffed out his vents, his biolights along his body seemed almost blinding.

Tailgate turned your attention back to him as he sucked harder as he curled his digits inside your warmth at just the right pace, it washed over you like a wave of ecstasy. You gripped the top of Tailgate’s helm to steady yourself as you came down from your high.

Your mind felt fuzzy and warped but clear all at once, you felt Tailgate’s servos grip your hips as he lowered you down onto his lap. Tailgate sits up to cradle you against his chastis as he turns to look at his conjinx, you hear him stifle a soft gasp and you turn your head towards Cyclonus.

What you saw was more beautiful than you could have ever imagined, Cyclonus’ helm tipped forward as he deactivated his optics, his spike was still erect but covered in his own overload. His fluids dripped from his chastis down to his thighs and onto the floor below him as he cleared his vent sharply, the hot air steaming from his vents.

Cyclonus reactivated his optics to see you and Tailgate smiling at him as you were tangled in each other's embrace, both your thighs slick with a mix of your releases.