#predaking x reader

• Still doesn’t understand how that strange covering will keep you from falling to your death. Venting softly, he pushes to his peds as you look back at him, the wind playing with your hair. “Catch me,” you say. There’s a look in your eyes that spins him tight. Something wild and joyous that echoes through him, that feels familiar. And you turn, feet running as you leap. Throwing yourself into space. Transforming, he launches himself off the ship after you, arrowing after your small form. Had explained that you couldn’t fly, but you could glide. Could control your fall. For the most part.

• Arms and legs spreading as the wind whips you and stings your eyes until tears blind you, your heart races. That familiar rush you crave has you grinning like a lunatic. Never jumped from this high without a chute. Know how dangerous this is. But also that he’ll catch you. Head turning, you almost spin yourself end over end trying to find him. And there he is, massive wings spreading to slow himself and claws reaching for you. Tucking your arms against yourself, you speed away from him. Making him chase you.

• Growling as you try to elude him, he tucks his wings and spirals around you. How can you be so fearless? Claws reaching, you meet his optics, your own eyes wide. Your arms stretch, fingertips touching his claws. Catching you, his wings spread to slow himself. Can feel your heart pounding against his claws as you laugh. Delighting in the danger, in the joy of flying. Understands this rush, but he’s surprised that you do when your fragile body was never meant for this. Wings flapping lazily as he hangs there, he tucks you against his chassis and pulls his wings in. Free falling.

Predaking could only watch you as his beast form curled around you protectively. The sounds coming from their vocalizer sharp and painful to listen to, striking him in the spark sharply as you laid on your side on the lowest part of a hill amongst the night. Cold. Alone. Abandoned. Worthless trying to love. Predaking was wrapped around you like a protective cat, his helm leaning down to nuzzle you with his mandibles as he tried to figure out why a substance was leaking from your optics, which keep opening and closing. Not knowing whether to recharge or stay online.

His leg pressing against yours against your side, coaxing you to lay down as Predaking proceeded to groom you to help calm you down. You don't know why it has begun to eat at you the more Knock Out talked about "Valentine's Day~!" on the "Feb 14th." and how it was a human celebration of love and affection. Giving gifts with candy and going on dates, courting someone they may or may not be with, to take them to a special place. Like a restaurant. Or a movie theatre. You don't know why. But it makes you so choked up trying to figure out why you're so...not wanted? You yearned for it whenever the red fairy Knock Out opens his mouth about it. Wanting someone to hold you in your darkest hour while everyone basks in the light.

Predaking growled, his tail thumping against the grass as his optics fixed onto you. Transforming into his Cybertronian form as his arms wrap around you, spooning you gently as you cried harder, one servo holding the side of your helm while the other held your cold body close. Rubbing your side and shoulder.

"What's wrong, sweetspark? Why are you upset?"

Predaking could only ask against your helm as his chin rests against it. Optics semi blown with his affection and worry towards you, trying to comfort and help you best to his ability.

"Please...Please tell me...I need to help you."

The predacon purred, his clawed thump whipping away the lubricant on your faceplate with a soft sigh. Sitting up on his elbow as his other servo snaked over your spark. Feeling and hearing the pain within. The guilt and worry of why no one has ever given you a second glance in the most loneliest, if not, darkest, time of your life. Treated as an outcast as they move out of sight away from you. Huddled in their own groups as they chitter away about their dreams and how they are gonna get a conjux and have enough kids to make an army with the hot femmes or mechs in town. You had a few yourself. Find someone who would love you back. Someone who won't leave you out to bleed. Someone who won't take advantage of your darkest. Someone who does love you for not your protective shell, but your spark. Someone who won't disappear the moment you are fatigued or breaking.

But it was too late. Obviously. Envious and withdrawn. You would watch intently as any couple in the films Knock Out showed did their usual. Servo holding, kissing, gifting or...hugging. Something you had to ask Knock Out what it is...your ribcage hadn't recovered from that hug since. Predaking held you closer as he felt you hiccup and choke on your own tears while you were moved to sit more upright by his servos. Back against his chassis while you are seated on Predaking's shin and knee. His arms wrapping around your torso while his helm tucked around your neckcabbles. face against your chassis, the crown upon his helm gently brushing against the side of your face. A deep, rumbling purr emitted from his frame. His servo snaking down your arm, over your armour and exposed joints to your own servo.

"I'm sorry you're so upset—please tell me what happened to hurt you. Why does your spark ache? Your face is wet."

Holding it in his own as he muttered softly. You shook your helm, hiding your face in Predaking's neck from your servo. His squeezing your own while he side-eyed you in vain of seeing your face again.

"I-I'm...so lonely...No one...l-loves me. No o-one will ca-are if I'm...gone. No one does. I'm gonna die alone b-by the time thi-this stupid war ends."

You managed to choke out, trying not to break apart and scream your spark and processor out from hurting to work venting some part of that out. Predaking didn't know if that was the fastest he has ever sat up in his whole short life. But it was. His back strut plating popping and cracking in ways he might not know is possible in the average Cybertronian as a Predacon. Golden optics wide and narrowed onto you. His hold tightened as he growled. His servo leaving yours and holding your face in his servo to look you in the optics

"DON'T YOU DARE TALK THAT OF YOURSELF IN SUCH MANNER, Spectator!"

Predaking snarled, his fangs bared as he held you optic level with his, servo lifting to wipe the substance off your faceplate. Hugging you close to his chassis as he leaned back, servo holding the back of your helm protectively.

"You are worthy that of life, you deserve the love needed to heal you. I will do it myself, even!"

Predaking barked, servos sitting you down on his abdomen as one held your hip to keep you steady. The other patting your back as he laid you on his torso, holding the side of your helm against where his spark can be located. Your digits digging into his sides for some stability. Hearing his sparkbeat...calmed you...settling you back into reality. A reality where no one is turning their back towards you when you approach, like you're something to ignore. A reality where no one takes you on a date as a joke and asks why you're taking it so personally, and that it's not that deep. A reality where some predacon self-declared king is there when your own teammates aren't. They have better things to do than comfort and show weakness to a comrade in a crisis.

"No I-I'm not."

Predaking almost roared in fury, but bit his tongue instead to keep quiet, helm tilting back to catch his breath before looking down at you.

"Fine."

The predacon snarled, patting your helm and humming deeply as he slowly swayed you in his hold while he sat up, holding you like a sparkling. You whimpered sharply as you are cradled in his arms. Protected and cared for. Your optics open with some force and look up to him. His face solem and optics weary of your state. His servo rubbing your back and helm as he tried to help you. To ease you.

"I love you, my darling...please don't leave. I need you."

Predaking grumbled. Squeezing you gently in his hold as he leans down to you, his forehead against yours as he planted a kiss between your eyes. Making your face warm up in an explosion of warmth from the area. He grumbled as his servos felt you up and down. Looking for where you might be harmed and it is causing you so much pain you would resist his hold throughout, even your vents hitching when you look up to him or get moved. His warmth heightening as he snuggled you. Helping your mind ease as he traced patterns on your armour over your possibly fried nerves. Putting you into a state of recharge.

Predaking has never seen anyone in this state before. But he was willing to help when your appearances lessened to the point that he's even lucky to see you walking around instead of sulking in your room. So he had to help. No one was doing so and just seemed to shrug it off. So Predaking went looking for you, worried you might be in danger, injured or wounded, fighting a battle you can't win against an Autobot or two. Or even captured and tortured by humans. Giving himself a mission to find and protect you from any harm that lingers in the Earthling night that Cons before have disappeared in.

You didn't remember much waking up. Your frame shuddered as you moved to sit up and take in the new environment. You were back in the Nemesis in your room alongside a guest who scratched your armour up. But that wasn't much to bother you. Predaking was such a sweetheart. Peppering you in kisses and preening you like you were his own after he put you to berth, warming you up before curling around you and keeping you warm after feeding you energon and cleaning you.

Gently laying you back down when he senses movement, softly nuzzling your frame with his face while purring away to help soothe you. Smothering your abdomen and limbs with affection as he rumbled.

"How was your recharge?"

Predaking mumbled against your stomach as he looked up to you with loving optics. Optics that are able to see the true you with just a glance. You sighed, nodding as your servo lifted and patted his helm and rubbed his arm. How in the universe did this predacon bother to even care about you at all due to your nature? Your spark stinging as you watched him move to lie on you more, elongating his frame as he buried his face into the middle of where your arm and side had space.

Your optics closing as he went back to slubbing you again. His warm metal warming you up as his purring started to vibrate in the berth. Pouring all his love onto you as he mimicked kissing noses while he preened you. Grumbling with a content look on his face. Your optics closed. Finally at peace. A feeling you have never felt before in your life. Finally loved. A feeling people manipulated into your processor to break you. Cared for. An action that someone who wasn't a medic has done for you. Remembered. Something you wish that wasn't just Megatron, Soundwave, and Shockwave that does, leaving you out and cons wondering where you're even from when you have been at the specific post for vorns, forgetting and leaving you behind when the majority of you has been ripped off your exoskeleton with your energon everywhere. Dripping down the edges of the steps and down the cracks to a room below.

You sighed at the memory, optics tearing up as you looked down at Predaking. Unsure now if he really does care or is doing this as an order from Shockwave to keep you around longer.

"Do you...really love me?"

Predaking tensed, sitting up and staring you dead in the optics with a growl. The expression softened a bit as he leaned closer to you.

"You dare think of me so lowly as that, Spectator?"

The predacon growled against your neck as his servo planted next to your helm before blowing raspberries against your neck and covering you with more kisses. Making you giggle and laugh as you tried to pull away from the act.

• Venting as he circles you, you’re turning to keep an eye on him, your hose wrapping your ankles even though you don’t seem to notice. Hissing softly as he pulls your scent deep, that fascinating shift strings him tight. Demands a response. Tail sliding against your hip, he rumbles when you suck in a sharp breath. And he brushes his head against you, rumbling. Offering himself as his wings adjust, spreading slightly.

• Body getting nudged by him as he rubs up against you like an overly affectionate cat, you have no idea what’s gotten into him, but as soon as you’d entered your stall, he’d come right for you. Maybe he just wants attention? Skin crawling at the alien, rumbling purr of his, you’re not sure if you should try to reach out and pat him on the snout or spray him until he snaps out of it. “Are we good?” You mumble warily. Had been legitimately frightened when he’d come at you like that.

• Mass shifting and transforming, he feels you tense when he reaches to cup your cheek in a hand, a servo feathering against the softness of your bottom lip. And you spray your own foot and his leg, your eyes widening. Had presented himself, offered and you’d not reacted. Not accepted him even though he can scent you. Knows you’re needing. Maybe your kind need words? “I would tend to you if you’d allow me,” he offers.

• Forcing your death grip to ease up on the sprayer when you register that your boot and pant leg are soaked, he’s just staring down at you, expression dead serious. The heat of his big hand cupping your cheek brands you, making you very aware of how big he is even mass displaced. He wants to tend to you? What does that even mean? “Thanks, but I can take care of myself,” you mumble, confused. Maybe he thinks you’re the stray cat and he’s gotten it into that alien head to adopt you? He’s definitely frowning down at you, expression almost offended.

• Venting to pull your scent deep, he growls as he walks past another human in uniform and they dare to look at you. Cranking that urgency to claim you as his higher. Because you’re his and he’s not about to let you slip through his servos. Lip lifting on a growl when you make eye contact with the other human, he rumbles and they hurry away. Maybe you’re approaching your heat? And even though you’d wanted him, you’d decided he was taking too long to claim you. “I don’t share what’s mine. I won’t tolerate someone else touching my conjunx,” he warns you.

• You know that word and your eyes go wide. Sure, he’s handsome right now, but he’s still big and alien. And looking for a love connection apparently. Flushing, you try to wiggle down out of his arms and he gives you a calculating look that has you freezing. If you do get down and run, he’s just going to chase you again. You’re sure of it. Because apparently that was his version of foreplay. “And I’m honored that you want me to have your alien, dragon babies, but I think there’s been a big misunderstanding,” you try and his optics shutter as he growls.

• Sparklings? Is such a thing even possible when you’re both so different? Isn’t sure, but he’s looking forward to finding out and trying as many times as it takes. Because if it is possible, he won’t be alone. Won’t be the only Predacon left. “I’ve chosen. I accept you as mine,” he growls and your expression becomes strained. Not nearly as happy as he’d expected you to look. Isn’t this what you wanted? Is he missing something? Maybe your soft people require a bonding ceremony? “Do your people require witnesses to a claiming to honor it?”

• You have a bad, sinking feeling that claiming means sex. That he’s talking about people watching you and him having sex. And your brain goes completely blank, unable to deal with that mental image. What is he thinking? That you’d invite your parents to watch him rail you? Shouldn’t be thinking about how sex with him would work at all. Sex isn’t even on the table. Looking around, you realize he’s carrying you towards his habsuite and you probably shouldn’t let him take you in there since he thinks he’s getting some. Panicking, you latch onto the ceremony part. “No sex without a wedding,” you blurt and that handsome face frowns down at you. ‘Wedding?’ He echoes as you smile nervously.

• Stalking back and forth, he clears his vents in annoyance before finally giving in and transforming, then mass shifting, grimacing at the rush of energon usage as his clawed servos flex before he yanks open the door of the building you’d hidden in. Testing his patience and his resolve to claim you. And he freezes seeing you being manhandled by two other humans as his lip curls with a snarl that has the man dragging you just drop you and back away, hands up. “You dare to touch my conjunx?” He growls.

• Oh, you’re going to die. But so is the jerk that was trying to throw you back out to Predaking, so that’s a win. Except for the big, alien dragon murdering you, too. Though he’s not a dragon anymore and he’s definitely much smaller, as well and you just stare, unable to reconcile this form with your scary beyond all reason, alien dragon. Heart racing as his optics flick from you to the guy whose leg you’re clinging to, you feel oddly guilty like you got caught doing something you shouldn’t have which is just insane. But you still release the guy when Predaking growls and forces his way into the locker room, tearing the door off the frame and breaking the wall around it to make room for his bulk.

• You’re testing him and his optics narrow on the other humans as they quickly back away, hands up submissively. So this is his competition? They’re not exactly impressive as he flashes his denta, before bending and scooping you up. Did you want to see if he’d fight for you? If he’d kill for you? He’s tempted because he can scent them on you when he vents deeply. And you don’t resist as he cradles you to his chassis. Maybe that was only a token resistance then since you’re surrendering so readily? Maybe you’d only wanted to encourage him to chase you, tempting him into claiming you. Meaning you want to be caught.

• Frozen as he cradles you in his arms and carries you out the door, destroying the wall a bit more in the process, you feel like you should apologize. And it’s crazy, because he’s the one who’d chased you unprovoked. He’d snarled and some primitive part of your brain had absolutely panicked, recognizing a dangerous predator. “You could have simply said that you wished to be claimed,” he growls and you blink at that. Claimed? “Though I did enjoy the hunt.”

Previous

• Hadn’t expected or wanted a little human trying to court him, but you’d looked him in the optics. Approached him boldly and had put your hands, your scent all over him. Laid claim to him with a shocking boldness. And now you want to leave him? Or do you? Head lifting, he watches you stagger to your feet, groaning about ‘pins and needles’ as you rub your palms against a thigh. Maybe that was an invitation? Standing slowly, his tail flicks as you freeze. Head turning to stare at him when his mandibles spread on a chittering snarl.

• Skin crawling as your heart goes racing, because his massive head is down, jaws parted as he tenses. Like he’s thinking about pouncing you like a mouse. He wouldn’t. Right? Backing up a step toward the corridor, he hisses and even though you know better, you bolt. And he makes an ululating alien cry that has you screaming as you run. Aware of the massive alien dragon chasing you as you sprint as fast as you can. Have no idea why he’s after you, but you don’t want to find out either. Because you didn’t sign up for this.

• Snarling as he chases after you, this he understands. You’d approached him, marked him with your scent to lay your claim, and now you’re making him work to capture you. To claim what’s his. You want him to prove himself worthy. And other humans scream and dart out of his way as he chases after you. Hopes you make it last. That you evade him, make him work for it. How else can you tell he deserves to claim you for a conjunx if he can’t hunt and capture you? If you were a Predacon, you’d fight him. Make him pin you down as you tried to dominate him, but you’re too fragile for that.

• Swearing nonstop as you try to find a place to hide. Because as far as you know, he’s now hungry and decided you’re his late night snack. Hear a crash as his bulk slides into a wall seconds after you smack into it to dart down a side street of the base. Where’s a guard with a gun when you need one? Know human weapons don’t hurt these guys, but it might redirect his anger toward eating the guard not you. In a blind panic, you grab a door and yank it open, falling inside and almost choking when you realize you’ve run into the guard’s locker room and a couple of them are just staring at you. And from outside, your assigned alien roars to make you flush cold. “Help!” You gasp, moving away from the door.

Previous

• Can feel you watching his every move. Worried about him preparing human food, but really, it’s fairly simple. Set amounts of particular ingredients mixed in a certain order. Even a sparkling could follow the instructions. And it leaves his spark warm to care for you. To prepare a meal for you with his own hands. “You doubt your mate?” He teases over his shoulder and he hears your bare feet on the floor.

• “No,” you mutter immediately, though you do have concerns. “Just curious.” Because whatever he’s making has a very odd smell that you can’t quite pin down. Not bad, just unfamiliar. And you watch him tap something from a spice container into it and stir. He’s been adding quite a few spices to whatever he’s making, but he is following a recipe and you’re trying to not hover. Trying to trust your big mate. Even if you’re scared food poisoning might possibly be in your future.

• Rumbling, he spoons some of the mixture into a bowl and struggles to pick up a spoon from the drawer, dropping it a few times before successfully grabbing the tiny thing. “A worthy conjunx tends to their mate,” he says, carrying your food to the table and setting it down before crossing to you and pulling you into his frame, relaxing when you hug him. And when you lean back, he cups your cheek in a hand, a servo sliding against your skin. “Eat before it gets cold.”